This paper will be presented at the Conference, Islam, Trade and Culture: The Roles of the Arabs in Southeast Asia, organized by the National Library of Singapore and the National University of Singapore. Singapore 10 & 11 April 2010.

A New Resurgence?

The Bā‘alawī & Islamic Revival in Post-Soeharto Indonesia

Ismail Fajrie Alatas

The last decade of the twentieth century brought a new dynamic to Islam in Indonesia,

which for most of the New Order era had been excluded from the political sphere.

Over the 1990s Islam came to enjoy increasing state patronage, and this Islamization

of the public sphere could not be separated from the emergence of a new Muslim

middle class in the country. Although several works have been devoted to the study of

Islamic revival, most of them only concern political expressions of Islam.1 In response

to these works, Julia Howell argues that recent appreciation of sufism has also been an

integral part of the revival and therefore should be incorporated to present a more

complete picture of Islamic revival.2

1 See: Robert W. Hefner, Civil Islam: Muslims and Democratization in Indonesia (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000); William R. Liddle, “The Islamic Turn in Indonesia: A Political Explanation,” Journal of Asian Studies 55, 3 (1996): 613-34. 2 Julia Day Howell, “Sufism and the Indonesian Islamic Revival,” Journal of Asian Studies 60, 3 (2001): 701-29.

This paper illustrates the active roles of the Bā‘alawī in the Indonesian Islamic

resurgence.3 Throughout the New Order, the Bā‘alawī had formed strong links with

local kyais (religious scholar) managed by multiple regional educational and spiritual

centers across Java. This paper observes such network between the Bā‘alawī and the

kyais as it entered the late 1990s. I argue that by 1997, the social capital of the

Bā‘alawī and the kyais swelled with increased public appreciation of their position,

particularly through the proliferation and expansion of majelis taklim (MT/traditional

Islamic study groups). This social capital was in turn used by the military in their

attempt to control the chaotic political situation in Jakarta, following the resignation of

Suharto in 1998. As partners of the military against pro-reform protesters, the

Bā‘alawī and the kyais enjoyed an unprecedented level of publicity in the national

media. This resulted in the ascension of the Bā‘alawī to prominence on the national

stage as nationalist Muslim leaders.

As the political situation normalized in 2000, however, the Bā‘alawī and their

kyai networks were criticized for their political opportunism, which came to be seen as

a liability for the emerging Bā‘alawī younger generation. Disassociating themselves

from the old network, the younger Bā‘alawī regained popularity by establishing new

forms of relationships to Indonesian Muslim youth, mediated by new technologies

such as the internet and popular magazines. Such developments recast once again the

public role of the Bā‘alawī in terms of that of what Michael Feener has called

3 Bā‘alawī is a term used to denote the descendants of the Prophet Muhammad who came from the Hadhramawt valley in South Arabia. They are known as scholars, saints and savants throughout the Indian Ocean rim, where they migrated and intermarried with local population. In Indonesia, they are usually referred to by the honorary title habib (pl. haba’ib) or sayyid. The Ba’alawi will be further discussed below.

mediated shaykhs, that is, of Muslim leaders whose authority is expressed in new ways

with relation to both the form and content of contemporary consumer culture.4

The article is divided into three parts. The first focuses on the general outline of

the late twentieth century Islamic revival in Indonesia while enriching it with a

discussion on the Bā‘alawī and their relation to this phenomenon. The second part

examines the politicization of the Bā‘alawī-kyai network by looking at the roles

played by several Bā‘alawī following the resignation of Suharto. The last section

observes the emergence of the younger generation of Bā‘alawī and the new kinds of

networks that they have established. Before moving into these parts, however, it is

imperative that we developed some understanding of who the Bā‘alawī are.

The Bā‘alawī and their Sufi Order

Bā‘alawī (children of ‘Alawī) is a term used to denote those descendants of the

Prophet Muhammad (sāda) who settled in the Hadhramaut valley of southern Yemen.

As the formative history of the Bā‘alawī has been the subject of several monographs,

it will not be discussed here.5 One vital development, however, does require some

discussion; that of the institution of the Bā‘alawī’s own Sufi path (tarīqa).

In the thirteenth century a Bā‘alawī scholar, Muhammad b. ‘Alī (d. 1255)

instituted the Tarīqa ‘Alawīyya (the Bā‘alawī path). Engseng Ho defines this as a

complex of constitutive elements consisting of a canon of saints, texts, rituals, sacred

places and genealogies. To this can be added another element; the scholarly network in

the form of ‘iqd al-suhba (pledge of fellowship) binding people based on their

4 R. Michael Feener (Personal communication, July 2009). 5 See: R.B. Serjeant, The Saiyids of Hadramawt (London: SOAS, 1957).

adherence to the tarīqa. These elements combined to generate and transmit normative

understandings of moral order. As a complex, the tarīqa is a ‘malleable discourse’ that

evolves as it confronts new historical contexts.6

One example of the tarīqa’s malleability was its articulation in terms of

Prophetic piety by the Bā‘alawī luminary, ‘Abd Allāh b. ‘Alawī al-Haddād (d. 1719).

The eighteenth century was an era when practices of mysticism centered upon the

ideals and precedence of the Prophet reached its peak in the Muslim world, as studies

of hadīth gained prominence.7 Al-Haddād delineated the tarīqa as imitating the

Prophet internally and externally by following the footsteps of the aslāf (the

Bā‘alawī’s pious predecessors) and studying the hadīth.8 Articulating sufism in the

contour of Prophetic piety afforded the Bā‘alawī a position of prestige. As heirs to the

Prophet, they could present their intimate knowledge of the Prophet’s words and deeds

through the silsila dhahabiyya (the golden chain), a chain of knowledge transmitted

internally through the family from father to son without external mediation. As al-

Haddād remarked,

They [the Bā‘alawī predecessors] became the inheritors of the Messenger And the commander of the faithful, ‘Alī And from the two grandsons (H asan & Husayn), they inherited Then how many scholars and how many substitutes?9 Prophetic piety therefore, functioned as the doctrinal justification of the tarīqa and

validation of the Bā‘alawī elevated status. From its inception until early in the

6 Engseng Ho, The Graves of Tarim: Genealogy and Mobility across the Indian Ocean (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006) pp. 41-47. 7 Bernd Radtke, “Sufism in the 18th Century: An Attempt at a Provisional Appraisal,” Die Welt des Islams, 36, 3 (1996): 360. 8 See especially his famous work: ‘Abd Allāh b. ‘Alawī al-Haddād, al-Nasāih al-dīniyya wa al-was āyā al-īmāniyya (Tarim: Dār al-Hāwī, 1994). 9 ‘Abd Allāh b. ‘Alawī al-Haddād, al-Durr al-manzūm lidhawī al-‘uqūl wa al-fuhūm (N.P. privately printed, 2003) p. 553.

twentieth century, the tarīqa experienced substantial modifications. In subsequent

sections, we will see how Prophetic piety was further reconceptualized and redeployed

to strengthen the doctrinal basis of the tarīqa in light of the challenge of Islamic

reformism.

By the eighteenth century, Bā‘alawī migrants had settled in various parts of

Southeast Asia. Their prestigious genealogy and scholarly credentials accelerated their

integration into local elite kinships, forming the Creole cultural nexus in the

archipelago.10 The assimilation process however, was asymmetrical.11 Although the

Bā‘alawī married local women, they did not marry their daughters to non-Bā‘alawī

citing the doctrine of kafa‘ā (parity in marriageability). This served to assimilate the

Bā‘alawī while simultaneously maintaining distinctiveness through carefully defined

lines of descent.

Indonesian independence brought about a new political framework for society in

which the nation instructed its subjects to think, act and behave in a way conforming

with the new ideals of the majority. This necessitated that those with ‘foreign’

backgrounds such as the Arabs and the Chinese adapt and integrate themselves into

the dominant culture. While for Javanese or Sumatrans, it was possible to be

Indonesian while cherishing their ethnic and communitarian identities, such was not

the case for those whose ancestors came from beyond the shores of the archipelago. In

this context, several Indonesian-born Hadramis came to call for full integration into

Indonesian society, a move which secured their citizenship in the new polity.12

10 For more information see: Ho, Graves of Tarim, chapter 6. 11 Ibid., pp. 173-187. 12 Natalie Mobini-Kesheh, The Hadrami Awakening: Community and Identity in the Netherlands East Indies, 1900-1942 (Ithaca: Cornell Southeast Asia Program, 1999).

For some Bā‘alawī, especially those with ‘traditional’ education however, such a

strategy was seen as problematic because of their adherence the Tarīqa ‘Alawīyya that

connected them to a Hadrami ‘homeland.’ As the tarīqa functioned to secure their

genealogical identity, differentiate them from others, and nurture their diasporic

consciousness, it also proved incompatible with the assimilationist logic of the nation-

state. A self-conscious, creative adaptation and manipulation was therefore needed to

secure their place in the wider imagination of Indonesian nationhood while protecting

their genealogical eminence. Thus, several Bā‘alawī scholars began to reconfigure the

tarīqa in the early decades of the Indonesian republic. This was done through the

reshaping of t arīqa rituals, shifting emphases onto prophetic piety in an hadīthi

framework, and the institution of expanded Bā‘alawī textual community to include

local scholars. Such shifts in discursive practices were sustained by the cultivation of

religious networks binding the Bā‘alawī and local kyais.

Islamizing the State & Society

Throughout the New Order period, organized and political Islam had been subjected to

state control designed to obstruct it from becoming an opposition to the regime.13 The

curtailment of Islam in the political sphere induced a re-channeling of its aspirations to

different sectors of society. In the 1970s, Muslim youth and intellectuals began

forming active groups among university students. Dissatisfied with state policy,

threatened by the perceived ‘Christianization’ of the society and inspired by

international revivalist works, the latter groups began to engage in missionary

13 Anthony H. Johns, “Indonesia: Islam and Cultural Experience.” in John L. Esposito (Ed.), Islam in Asia: Religion, Politics and Society (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987) p. 217.

activities, calling fellow students to observe Islamic cultural and educational activism.

Such missionary activities sowed the seeds of Islamic revival in the country.14

In the late 1980s, Muslim intellectuals and the state made an effort to work

together. The self-repositioning of several Muslim intellectuals enabled them to adopt

a more accommodating stance vis-à-vis the state.15 In addition, the military politics of

Suharto’s relationship with General Benny Moerdani together with the rise of the

Muslim middle class persuaded Suharto to begin working more closely with Muslim

leaders.16 Consequently, Muslim intellectuals developed cordial relationships with the

Indonesian state.

The result was several state-directed initiatives facilitating Islamic

manifestations in the public sphere such as the establishment of Islamic banking

systems and Muslim intellectual organizations, the application of Islamic family law,

permission for women to wear the veil in public schools, the publication of Islamic

magazines and the broadcasting of Islamic programs on television.17 The President

himself made an extensively-televised pilgrimage to Mecca in 1990, a move seen by

many as symbolizing Suharto’s turn towards Islam. Within the military itself, there

was the rise of what became known as ‘the green faction,’ that is, generals who were

known to be sympathetic to Islam.18 The 1990s, therefore, witnessed the Islamization

of state and society. Whatever the reason for such maneuver, Suharto’s move toward

14 Ibid., p. 218. 15 Nurcholish Madjid, “Islam di Indonesia dan Potensinya Sebagai Sumber Substansiasi Ideologi dan Etos Nasional,” in Budhy Munawar-Rachman (Ed.), Kontekstualisasi Doktrin Islam dalam Sejarah (Jakarta: Paramadina, 1994) p. 577. 16 Robert W. Hefner, “Islamization and Democratization in Indonesia,” in Robert W. Hefner & Patricia Horvatich (Eds.), Islam in an Era of Nation States (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1997) p. 104. 17 For more complete discussion see: Yudi Latif, Inteligensia Muslim dan Kuasa: Genealogi Inteligensia Muslim Indonesia abad ke-20 (Bandung: Mizan, 2005) chapter 6. 18 Hefner, Civil Islam, pp. 173-4.

Islam ushered in a more liberated atmosphere in which Indonesians began to feel more

comfortable with public expressions of Islam.

Islamic revival in Indonesia was not, however, solely a top-down phenomenon.

Throughout the New Order period, there was a substantial enlargement of the santri

component in society. On the back of the regime’s policy— stressing the need to

belong to a formally recognized religion— rode a widespread fear of being regarded

as communist. With modernization, the social prestige of Javanism had waned

tremendously, resulting in the ‘santrinization’ of the younger members of abangan

families.19 Such was especially the case with those who were enrolled in universities

across the country. The enlargement of the santri resulted in vivid public

manifestations of Islamic piety.

One such manifestation was sufism’s return to prominence, contrary to the

predictions of scholars like Clifford Geertz, who argued that sufism would fade from

the social landscape as Indonesia modernizes.20 The re-emergence of sufism, however,

was substantially different from the past in that what became popular was not tarīqa-

based sufism but more a set of intellectual and spiritual set of practices aimed at

cultivating emotional states and internalizing ethical principles within oneself. The

renaissance of Indonesian sufism was the result— among others— of the influence of

Hamka, the popular Indonesian preacher, who advocated sufism without tarīqa,

thereby rehabilitating sufism from its previous excesses such as vows of obedience to

spiritual mentors and the rigidity of sufi-orders.21 The new synthesis, highly accessible

to the Muslim middle-class, presented sufism without elements which had previously

19 Liddle, “The Islamic Turn,” p. 624. 20 Clifford Geertz, The Religion of Java (Glencoe, IL: Free Press, 1960). 21 Howell, “Sufism,” p. 711.

been the sites of contention between modernists and traditionalists. Rather than

curtailing individual reasoning, the new forms of sufism emphasized intellectual and

spiritual pursuits.

This phenomenon indexes the reconfiguration of sufism into more modern and

reformist forms. At the same time, the reformists, previously vociferous critics of

sufism, began to realize the potential value of the spirituality it offered. Consequently,

both reformists and traditionalists repositioned their approach to sufism, softening the

distinction between both religious orientations.22 From being peripheral to Islam in

modern Indonesia, sufism re-emerged in different forms and successfully penetrated

its centre.

The practical consequence of this development was the proliferation of sufi-

oriented movements and study-groups. Among the elites in Jakarta, many flocked to

the intensive courses organized by the Paramadina foundation and the Tazkiya Sejati

foundation which offered a range of intensive lessons on sufism. Both groups targeted

the wealthy elite of Jakarta, emphasizing the intellectual and ethical elements of

sufism. Another form of sufism without tarīqa was the Pesantren Daarut Tauhid in

Bandung, founded in 1987 by Abdullah Gymnastiar (Aa Gym). Addressing ethical and

psychological problems, Gymnastiar drew his ideas from the classical texts of sufism

as well as from the global genre of contemporary “self-help” and “successful

management” books. In addition, throughout the 1990s, Indonesian bookshops were

flooded by translations of sufi texts, facilitating society’s further immersion in sufism.

22 Ibid., p. 713.

By 1997, the new forms of sufism enjoyed unprecedented popularity across

society, mediated especially by Islamic programs on television. Communal dhikr

(ritual chanting) associated with sufism enjoyed a resurgence throughout Indonesia.23

The participation in these rituals of prominent business people as well as celebrities

increased steadily.24 Such gatherings were also held to support political events linked

to the regime. For instance, a dhikr session attended by one thousand participants,

including religious leaders and celebrities, was held to pray for the success of the

General Session of the People’s Consultative Assembly (SU-MPR).25

In the 1990s a program called Pesantren Kilat (instant pesantren) was

introduced, aimed at amplifying Islamic spirituality among school students. Usually

held in three days to a week during the annual school holidays, the program provided

students the experience of life in a pesantren setting. They held communal dhikr,

memorized the Qur’an, and learnt religious disciplines. The participation of schools in

the program increased annually, reaching 200,000 during the 1997 holiday.26 While in

1996, 3.4 million students attended the program, the following year saw participation

jump to 6 million.27 Previously seeming mysterious and rigid, sufism was transformed

in the late 1990s to become more amenable to the spiritual needs of a modernized

society.

The Bā‘alawī actively took part in the Islamization of state and society. In the

government-controlled Golkar party, two Bā‘alawī were elected as chairmen of the

23 Abu Ibrahim, Tedy Novan & Sumanto, “’Dzikir’ Recitation Gains Popularity,” The Jakarta Post (11 August 1997). 24 Abu Ibrahim, Tedy Novan & Sumanto, “Religious Revival Becomes a Trend Among Local Moslems,” The Jakarta Post (12 August 1997). 25 “Doa Umat Islam Ibukota Sukseskan SU MPR,” Republika (22 September 1997). 26 “Peserta Program Pesantren Kilat Meningkat,” Suara Pembaruan (12 April 1997). 27 “Enam Juta Siswa Ikuti Pesantren Kilat,” Republika (19 July 1997).

“greener” (Islamic) Central Executive Board.28 Another Bā‘alawī, the Makassar-born

Quraish Shihab assumed the rectorship of the Jakarta State Islamic Institute (IAIN),

and in 1998 he was elevated to the position of Minister of Religious Affairs. As a

popular Qur’anic exegete, Shihab had his own television program and his brother, the

Harvard-educated Alwi Shihab, also had his own television show on sufism. On the

entrepreneurial front, Fuad Mashyur, the director of Maktour travel agency organized

a Pesantren Kilat trip to Mecca every holiday season. Mashyur claimed that in 1997

the package reached a peak, with 150 participants from around Indonesia. The fact that

Maktour charged US$1.850 (Rp 4.3 million) per person meant that the package was

tailored for the upper class.29

Another company dominated by the Bā‘alawī was the publishing house Mizan,

directed by the Muslim intellectual Haidar Bagir. Mizan had been instrumental in the

translation and publication of sufi texts, including the books of the eighteenth century

Bā‘alawī luminary ‘Abd Allāh b. ‘Alawī al-Haddād, as well as Shi’ite texts and a

range of other works, broadening Indonesian conceptions of Prophetic piety.30 On the

educational front, Bagir together with prominent Bā‘alawī such as Quraish Shihab,

Muchsin Mohdar (the brother-in-law of B.J. Habibie) and Muchsin Idrus al-Hamid

established the Internat al-Kausar, a modern boarding school synthesizing national and

traditional religious educations in West Java.31 The Bā‘alawī, therefore, effectively

and publicly tapped into the broader Islamic revival in Indonesia. Although none of

28 The two were Dr. Abdullah Alatas Fahmi & Ir. Fadhel Muhammad, see: “Lineup of the New Board,” The Jakarta Post (26 October 1993). 29 “Mengisi Liburan: Umrah dan Pesantren Kilat di Mekkah,” Republika (11 July 1997). 30 Allamah Sayyid Abdullah Haddad, Thariqah Menuju Kebahagiaan (Bandung: Mizan, 1989). This volume also featured a long essay by Baqir’s father on the Bā‘alawī entitled “Introduction to the Bā‘alawī.” 31 “Internat al Kausar: Mendidik Gaya Pesantren, Mengajar Gaya Sekolahan,” Republika (25 April 1997).

these personalities made use of their Bā‘alawī status, it remains, however that the

usage of surname revealed their identity to a Muslim middle class. These surnames,

which refers to their clan patronymic such as Alatas, Assegaf and Shihab reveal their

Bā‘alawī identity as these clans were known to most urban-based middle class

Muslims.

The more traditionally-oriented Bā‘alawī, meaning those who were educated in

the traditional Islamic milieu and were known by the honorary title habib, also partook

in the Islamic revival of the 1990s. Habib Ali b. Abdurrahman Assegaf, a learned son

of the eminent Bā‘alawī scholar of Jakarta also had many students among the kyais

throughout the city. In 1995 Assegaf utilized his network among the kyais to embark

on a dawn prayer campaign.32 The campaign involved visiting a different mosque

every Saturday to communally perform dawn prayer. Starting from few participants,

the campaign developed into an enormous weekly gathering attended by thousands of

participants. According to Assegaf, when he notified Suharto about the campaign, the

president encouraged such action.33 After prayer, the gathering engages in dhikr,

followed by a sermon by Assegaf, usually on topics such as Islamic piety and

devotion. The dawn prayer campaign highlights the expansion of a traditional prayer-

meeting, maintained by the Bā‘alawī-kyai clientele relationship and facilitated by the

state. Assegaf himself noted that such a gathering would have been unthinkable before

the mid-1990s, underscoring the state’s importance in guaranteeing its success.

By the end of 1997 Islamic revival and new appreciation of sufism without

formal tarīqa structures continued to rise and gain popularity among urban-based

32 “Habib Ali bin Abdurrahman Assegaf: Mengatasi Krisis dengan Salat Subuh Berjemaah,” al-Kisah, 22, II (25 Oktober 2004) p. 11. 33 Ibid., p. 12.

Indonesians. The line that formerly divided traditionalists and modernists became

blurred as sufism was reinvented to suit the spiritual needs of urban-based Muslims.

Such revival enabled the Bā‘alawī to tap into the prevalent mood, resulting in a fresh

public appreciation of their prominence. The Bā‘alawī-kyai network continued to

expand as it promoted sufi practices in conversation with the prevalent mood, and

their augmented social capital eventually drew the attention of the state and military

officials.

On 31 December 1997, 70,000 Muslims in Jakarta attended a dhikr led by

several influential Bā‘alawī and kyais together with the Governor and the Jakarta’s

Chief of Police.34 As the sun was setting over Suharto’s New Order, the Bā‘alawī

enjoyed esteemed status in a genial relationship with the people and authorities. Soon,

such liaisons proved to be decisive in the confrontation following the demise of the

regime.

The Network Politicized

The resignation of Suharto in May 1998 heralded a new era for Indonesia.35 The

previously controlled public space was suddenly liberalized under pressure from pro-

reform activists. The absence of state hegemony meant that dissenting political,

cultural and religious agendas were freely articulated. In such atmosphere, Islam was

caught between the political trajectories that divided the nation. Along with it, the

Bā‘alawī took on a range of new religious and political roles.

34 “Tabligh Akbar satu-satunya Acara Masal di Ibu Kota,” Republika (2 January, 1998). 35 For a further account on the fall of Suharto see: Donald K. Emmerson, “Exit and Aftermath: The Crisis in 1997-98,” in Donald K. Emmerson (ed.) Indonesia Beyond Soeharto: Polity, Economy, Transition (New York: M.E. Sharpe, 1999) pp. 295-344.

Following the resignation of Suharto, pro-reform student activists were divided.

Most decided to call their action to a halt as their objective had been accomplished.

Others, including those from Forum Kota (Forkot, a consortium of student

organizations from several universities in Jakarta), claimed that the substitution of

Suharto with his hand-picked successor B.J. Habibie did not amount to true reform as

the latter was seen very much as part of the New Order.36 Consequently, Forkot

continued to stage demonstrations against the new government.

Habibie’s supporters soon formed a movement to counter Forkot which they

named Komite Umat Islam untuk Reformasi Konstisional (Committee of the Islamic

Community for Constitutional Reform/ KUIRK). Backed by several ‘green generals’,

KUIRK unleashed a war of slogans against Forkot by equating political opposition to

Habibie with being “anti-Islam.”37 Forkot was accused of forming an alliance between

with the communists and the Christians, who were cast in conspiracy theories as the

masterminds behind “Reformasi” student movements. In addition, the commander-in-

chief of the military, General Wiranto began a campaign, imploring Muslim leaders to

support the government.38 These maneuvers drew Islam into the political discourse of

‘Reformation’ in the early post-Suharto period.

The atmosphere further heated up as the government planned to stage an

“Extraordinary Session” of the People’s Consultative Assembly (SI-MPR). This

Extraordinary Session was convened to expedite the election to mid-1999.39 Forkot

refused to recognize the session, calling it a political maneuver devised to legitimate

36 Kees van Dijk, A Country in Despair: Indonesia between 1997 and 2000 (Leiden: KITLV Press, 2001) p. 212. 37 Ibid., p. 213. 38 “Pangab Ajak tokoh Agama Dukung Pemerintahan Habibie,” Republika (24 June, 1998). 39 “Menunggu Perhelatan Politik dengan Jantung Berdegup,” Gatra (14 November 1998) p. 28.

Habibie’s government. Forkot’s campaign was joined by several other student groups

as well as activists and dissenters. Rallying a force of 47,000 supporters, Forkot and its

backers staged daily demonstrations against the government.40 They were backed by

several old generals formerly serving under Suharto who were known for their

dissenting opinions. These generals, led by Kemal Idris and Ali Sadikin, as well as

activists such as Sri Bintang Pamungkas, organized themselves into Barisan Nasional

(National Coalition/Barnas).41 They refused to recognize the Extraordinary Session

and proposed the establishment of a presidium consisting of community leaders and

activists to organize Indonesia’s next democratic election.

Against this background, the military decided to mount a pro-government force

to balance the anti-government movements. The military saw potential in befriending

the Bā‘alawī, recognizing their social capital and their ability to garner mass support.

On 31 July, Habib Ali Assegaf announced that the pro-Habibie General Wiranto

would be coming to his weekly dawn-prayer campaign, which would be held at the

national Istiqlal mosque.42 Assegaf hoped that such an event would draw Muslims

closer to the military. Known for his strong connection with local kyais, Assegaf

successfully managed to gather 30,000 participants to the event, held on 2 August.

Several Bā‘alawī and Kyais as well as the upper echelons of the military led by

Wiranto attended the gathering. In his speech, Wiranto stressed the need for

establishing closer brotherhood (ukhuwah) between Muslims and the military.43

40 “Mereka yang Menentang Sidang Sandiwara,” Tempo (30 November 1998) p. 49. 41 “Ketika Para Jenderal Tua Memimpin Gerakan,” Gatra (28 November 1998) p. 27. 42 “Pangab Akan Istighatsah di Istiqlal,” Suara Karya (31 July, 1998). 43 “Dari Shalat Subuh Bersama Rakyat-Ulama-Umara: Mari, Kesalahan Ini Kita Pikul Bersama,” Republika (7 August, 1998).

Criticized by the media for attempting to drag religion into politics, Assegaf

denounced the accusation by explaining the need for more intense communication

between the Muslims and the military, highlighting his role as facilitator.44 This highly

publicized event further polarized political constellation by appropriating religious

dimensions into the conflict.

On 17 August, Indonesian Independence Day, several Bā‘alawī including Habib

Rizieq Syihab, Habib Idrus Jamalul-lail and Habib Ali Baagil, who was known for his

closeness to Suharto’s family and Wiranto, together with a number of kyais such as

K.H. Cecep Bustomi, K.H. Damanhuri and K.H. Misbahul Anam met to discuss

political developments in the country. The result of the meeting was the establishment

of a paramilitary group, Islamic Defender’s Front (FPI).45 Although FPI became better

known subsequently for their violent actions against nightspots and entertainment

venues, it is crucial to note that it was originally founded as a movement designed to

garner Muslim support for Habibie. Allegedly, a number of high-ranking military

officers as well as Habibie’s supporters were involved in the establishment of the

movement, supplying financial backing and training.46 Although remaining in the

background, rumors began to spread of Baagil’s role as the linkage connecting the

military and FPI.47 Habib Rizieq became the chairman of the movement and began to

enlist supporters for the first political crusade.48 FPI recruited supporters from among

the traditional followers of the Bā‘alawī and the kyais, and joined other Islamic groups

44 “Ini Bukan Gerakan Politik!” Republika (7 August, 1998). 45 Jajang Jahroni, “Defending the Majesty of Islam: Indonesia’s Front Pembela Islam (FPI) 1998-2003,” Studia Islamika 11, 2 (2004): 213. 46 Ibid., p. 215. 47 K.H. Abdul Hayyie Naim (Interview, 22/07/2009). 48 Jahroni, “Defending the Majesty,” p. 215.

to demonstrate their support for Habibie. The leaders clearly stated that their support

for Habibie and the military was based solely on religious grounds.49 As with

Assegaf’s campaign, the case of FPI illustrate the process by which the Bā‘alawī-kyai

network was successfully exploited to secure Habibie’s political position. It also,

however, projected the Bā‘alawī as a nationalist group concerned with the fate of the

nation as exemplified in FPI’s total allegiance to the Republic of Indonesia, which was

fully integrated to the group’s ideology.50

As several pro-Habibie Muslim groups began to consolidate, on 30 September

the Indonesian Council of Ulama (MUI) staged a rally at the Istiqlal mosque attended

by 20,000 people. The outcome was the establishment of the Muslim Forum of the

Upholders of Justice and the Constitution (Furkon).51 Among the leaders of Furkon

was a retired military officer, Rear Admiral Adang Safaad. Another leader, Faisal Biki

claimed that 100,000 Muslims were ready to defend the extraordinary session. One

oral source indicates that the mastermind behind Furkon, who remained in the

background, was Habib Ali Baagil.52 Equipped with a large amount of funding,

Furkon established the Voluntary Security Guards (Pam-Swakarsa) by giving away

money for those who agreed to be enlisted. Armed with sharpened bamboo poles and

swords53, Pam-Swakarsa was ready to defend the extraordinary session from the pro-

reform activists. Biki effectively enlisted thousands of people from among the

49 Ibid., p. 215. 50 Ibid., p. 231. 51 Van Dijk, A Country in Despair, p. 335. The term furkon (Ar. furqān) carries a religious connotation meaning ‘the criterion between right and wrong’, thus in the Qur’an (2:185), the Qur’an is described as furqān, to judge between truth and falsehood. The usage of the term indicates the attempt to invest religious dimension into the political conflict. 52 K.H. Abdul Hayyie Na’im (Interview, 22/07/2009). 53 The usage of bambu runcing (sharpened bamboo poles) is highly symbolic as it was this particular weapon that was used by the Indonesians to fight the Dutch colonizers. Bambu runcing is therefore, a potent symbol of Indonesian nationalism.

unemployed and the urban-poor.54Asked about the source of the funding, Biki named

Wiranto and Golkar leader Abdul Gaffur, an accusation flatly denied by both.55

On 5 November 1998, less than a week before the Extraordinary Session, a mass

meeting of 100,000 Muslims was organized at the Senayan Stadium. The meeting

united all forces supporting Habibie, including Pam-Swakarsa under one umbrella and

projected the struggle to secure the session as a Jihad.56 Two days before the meeting,

a popular Bā‘alawī preacher, Habib Syaikh al-Jufri claimed that, far from being

political, the rally was held to express concerns by Muslim over attempts to obstruct

constitutional practice.57 During the mass meeting, an array of Bā‘alawī scholars,

kyais and Muslim activists sat side by side. Among the Bā‘alawī were Habib Ali

Assegaf and Habib Husein b. Ali Alatas. Bā‘alawī-linked kyais were also present. The

mass meeting was organized by Abdul Rasyid Abdullah Syafe’i who came up with a

new organization called the Friendship Forum of ‘Ulama, Haba’ib and Islamic Public

Figures (Forum Silaturahmi Ulama, Habaib dan Tokoh Masyarakat). Also at the

meeting were activists linked to the modernist Masjumi such as Ahmad Soemargono

and Husein Umar of DDII (Indonesian Islamic Missionary Council). The linkage

between the Bā‘alawī and the Masjumi-oriented activists was mediated by Abdul

Rasyid whose father was a pupil of several Bā‘alawī scholars as well as being a

member of Masjumi. In his speech, K.H. Syaifuddin Amsyir stressed the need to

secure a constitutional gathering while warning the military of attempts to divide

54 “Pam Swakarsa: Aktor atau Korban?” Tempo (30 November, 1998) p. 44. 55 Ibid, p. 44. 56 “Berjihad Mendukung Sidang,” Tempo (30 November, 1998) p. 48. Furkon claimed that the pro-government forces to amount to 123,500 personnel 57 “Apel Akbar Umat Islam,” Suara Karya (3 November, 1998).

Muslims and the military.58 The meeting illustrated the persistence of the network and

its enlargement to include the Masjumi-oriented activists, demonstrating its re-

politicization in the post-Suharto Indonesia.

The number of military and Pam-Swakarsa recruits guarding the parliament

prevented student demonstrators from disrupting the session. Three students were

killed and fifty were injured in their attempts to penetrate the blockade. Many were

dismayed by the result of the extraordinary session for its failure to pass the act

enabling the investigation to Suharto’s wealth and diminishing military’s presence in

the parliament.59 The session agreed to schedule a general election for mid 1999.

Despite the ensuing chaos, the pro-Habibie groups successfully secured the

Extraordinary Session.

Between the session and the general election, this group of Bā‘alawī scholars

continued in actively supporting Habibie’s re-election. Assegaf maintained dawn-

prayer gatherings attended by military and civil authorities as well as kyais.60 FPI

persisted in supporting Habibie and enjoying the patronage of the military. Nothing

was ever heard again of Furkon or the Pam-Swakarsa. The hope of several Bā‘alawī

scholars was shattered when Habibie’s accountability speech was rejected by the new

parliament, hindering him from any hope of securing a second term. This concluded

the political debacle that briefly brought together several Muslim groups in support of

Habibie.

58 “Apel Akbar Umat Islam Dukung SI MPR,” Republika (6 November, 1998). 59 “Tuduhan Makar Setelah Semanggi Berdarah,” Gatra (21 November 1998) p. 27. 60 See: “Islam tidak Ajarkan Dendam,” Suara Karya (7 December 1998); “Salat Subuh Se-Jabotabek Serukan Perdamaiaan,” Media Indonesia (14 May 1999).

The politicization of the Bā‘alawī-kyai network indicates the adaptability of this

clientele relationship to changing contexts, as testified by its reconfiguration as an

alignment fighting a political cause. Although without a formal mass following, the

network had proven its ability to build-up mass-base in a short period. Such flexibility

differentiates informal ties from formal institutions. Being adaptable also meant that

the network was able to expand to include other segments with disparate cultural

backgrounds such as the DDII activists. In utilizing the network, the military could

easily gather support informally without entailing heavy political and financial

accountability for the actions of these ‘third parties.’ The network, in a way was more

‘invisible’ and could disappear overnight if the need presented itself.

The events of 1998 brought the Bā‘alawī once again into the public spotlight.

They were portrayed in the national media as Indonesian Islamic scholars with large

followings, partaking in the shaping of the country’s future. Their speeches no longer

consisted of discourses on belief and ritual practice but became structured under the

framework of Indonesian nationhood, public affairs and common welfare. Illustrating

the development of Bā‘alawī’s public face, in January 2000, one national magazine,

Gatra placed the headline: ‘What are you Looking for, oh Habib.’61 The eleven-page

report surveyed the Bā‘alawī’s activism in the national politics as well as discussing

their background, their migration to Southeast Asia, even including their lineage all

the way to Adam through Muh ammad. This report illustrated the Bā‘alawī’s re-entry

onto the national stage of Indonesia and their success in developing public and

national personas.

61 “Habib di Panggung Politik,” Gatra (8 January 2000).

In the aftermath of the 1998 crisis, the Bā‘alawī had alienated themselves from

most Indonesians, and public opinion began to cast them as political opportunists.

Their image took more beatings by rumors stating that substantial amounts of money

were involved in the consolidation of support for Habibie. This, together with FPI’s

violent raids against nightspots earned the Bā‘alawī increasing notoriety. Such was the

situation faced by the younger generation of Bā‘alawī who began to emerge at the

twilight of the twentieth century. As young scholars finding their place in society, the

notoriety of their predecessors meant that the network became a liability. To secure

their own position, therefore, they had to disassociate themselves from the network.

None exemplified this new generation better than the young Habib Hasan Assegaf (b.

1974) who began to consolidate his own followers among the youth of Jakarta. In

contrast to his predecessors, Hasan championed direct access to the youth without the

mediation of local kyais. Such a maneuver enabled Hasan to construct his own power

base in a way that could be appreciated by the younger generation.

Old Authority Cast Anew

The negative image of the Bā‘alawī-kyai network following the 1998 political debacle,

induced the emerging younger Bā‘alawī scholars to abandon the old ineffective

clientele relationship. These young Bā‘alawī explored new ways of presenting the

traditional form of Bā‘alawī authority to suit changing context. Such realities

persuaded Habib Hasan Assegaf to found a modern movement utilizing technological

advancement in order to bypass the ‘traditional’ structure.

Observing the energy of the youth in student political activism across the country,

Hasan seemingly understood that the way to re-secure the now feeble Bā‘alawī

authority was to garner youth support. Thus in 2000, Hasan founded his own study-

group designed to facilitate his direct access to the youth. This group, solely organized

and managed by the youth, developed into a mass weekly gathering attracting

thousands of young urban Muslim from around Jakarta. Employing the internet and

modern organizational structures, every week Hasan mobilized thousands of youth for

mass recitals of the mawlid, and to listen to his preaching.62 The gathering, which

began by motorcycle motorcade around South Jakarta, was highly visible and

attractive to young Muslims. The name of study-group, Nurul Musthofa (Prophetic

Light) referred to the sufi cosmological concept of the pre-existing light of

Muhammad as direct manifestation of the Divine, which was then carried by the

prophet and his descendants. The name symbolizes the old form of Bā‘alawī authority

as the inheritor of the Prophetic light, projected through new means by Hasan.

Originally from Bogor, West Java, Hasan studied under several Bā‘alawī

scholars in Jakarta and Malang. When he was 19 years old, Hasan began to preach

among the youth of the urban-poor scattered across the outskirts of Jakarta.63 His

direct involvement with the youth resulted in his acquisition of a large following. An

energetic speaker, who combined religious learning with showmanship aided by high-

tech sound amplification system, Hasan was successful in captivating his audience.

The central message of his speeches is the imperative to establish connection to the

prophetic light which can be attained by loving him and following his footsteps

62 “Membahagiakan Anak Muda dan Orang Pinggiran,” Al-Kisah, 23, II (21 November 2004) p. 19. 63 Ibid.

through the mediations of his saintly descendants. Highlighting the special position of

the Prophet’s descendants, Hasan presented the traditional authority of the Bā‘alawī to

the new youthful constituents.64 In his gathering, Hasan discussed the notions of

sainthood, mystical stations and miracles as well as introducing his audience to the

Bā‘alawī saints in Indonesia and their genealogy. In addition, he organized visitations

to the graves of Bā‘alawī saints around Jakarta. This combination of narratives, rituals,

sites, genealogy and visitations, revived the sanctified Bā‘alawī map of Jakarta among

his followers and in so doing, Hasan re-presented the old form of Bā‘alawī authority

through new means and media.65

With Hasan, the old form of Bā‘alawī authority was re-presented through direct

access to the youth facilitated by technological developments and modern

organizational models. Although the means of conveying the authority changed, the

form of authority itself remained the same. By doing so, Hasan was able to harness the

support of the youth from the lower economic and educational backgrounds, excluding

those with higher education. The reason for Hasan’s failure to garner support from the

highly-educated youth was his inability to present his message in a way recognizable

and palatable to the reformist religious discourses dominant among university

students. The fragmentation of Islam into various ideologically conflicting groups

meant that traditional scholarship ceased to be the only authoritative source of

religious knowledge. Such was the case especially among the secular university

educated students who were more attracted to Salafism and favoured direct access to

the scriptures. With inclinations to international Islamist revivalist organizations such

64 “Majelis Taklim Nurul Musthafa: Malam Surga bagi Kaum Musa,” al-Kisah,17, II (29 August 2004). p. 89. 65 For this mechanism, see: Engseng Ho, Graves of Tarim, pp. 41-47.

as the Muslim Brotherhood and Hizb al-Tahrir, these students became increasingly

hostile to local variants of Islam and pursued agendas of Islamizing Indonesian

society. The fall of Suharto ushered in an era where these reformist and

internationalist discourses could be freely articulated in public, exemplified by the

founding of the Partai Keadilan (later on changed to Partai Keadilan Sejahtera, PKS),

which won a significant number of votes in the 2004 general election.66

These new articulations of Islam were mostly critical of sufism and its forms of

authority. Thus, for them, Hasan’s conception of hereditary privileges and authority

couched in sufi vocabularies remained somewhat suspect. In fact for many of them,

Hasan’s message could easily be critiqued as khurafāt (superstitions). This meant that

the old form of Bā‘alawī authority, as projected by Hasan, was no longer acceptable to

most high-educated youth. In order to secure the Bā‘alawī’s position in the now

fragmented Muslim community of Indonesia, a new reconfiguration of Bā‘alawī

religious authority was needed. A solution to this dilemma was offered by a young

Yemeni scholar Habib ‘Umar b. Hafīd (b. 1962) and his Indonesian Bā‘alawī student,

Munzir al-Musawa (b. 1973). This new form of Bā‘alawī authority, was the result of

an interaction between the dynamics of post-unification Yemen and domestic

Indonesian fragmentation of Islamic authority facilitated by the re-opening of links

between Indonesia and Hadramaut following the end of the Cold War.

66 Elizabeth Fuller Collins, “Islam is the Solution: Dakwah and Democracy in Indonesia,” Kultur 3, 1 (2003): 143-82.

The Verandah of Medina

The unification of Yemen in 1990 resulted in relatively free political atmosphere

where different Islamic groups sought to secure an ideological niche for themselves

amidst intense public contestations over the country’s future and religio-political

identity. One such group was the Salafi oriented al-Islah (reform) political party.

Ideologically and financially indebted to Saudi Arabia, al-Islah presented themselves

as the bearer of pristine Islam and launched virulent diatribes against “traditionalist”

scholars with sufi orientations including the Bā‘alawī of Hadramaut. Sufism was

portrayed as religious deviation, backward looking and the source of Muslim

maladies. Similar to most places in the Muslim world then, in Yemen sufism came to

finds itself on the defensive.67

The relatively free atmosphere in post-unification Yemen, however, also

witnessed sufi revivals such as those spearheaded by Habib ‘Umar b. Muhammad bin

Hafidz who in 1996, founded a ‘neo-traditional’ academy named Dar al-Mustafa in

Tarim. Defending the Bā‘alawī’s position as the bearer of authentic Islam, Habib

‘Umar embarked on a campaign of reviving sufism in Hadramaut after a long

marginalization under the socialist regime.68 In addressing the Salafi condemnation of

the Bā‘alawī for their alleged anthropolatry, grave worship and hereditary privileges,

Habib ‘Umar presented Tarīqa ‘Alawīyya in the contours of prophetic piety, by

emphasizing the centrality of hadīth studies in the teachings of sufism. Such decisive

re-imagination and re-shaping of the tarīqa enabled Habib ‘Umar to minimize the

67 Elizabeth Sirriyeh, Sufs and Anti-Sufis: The Defence, Rethinking and Rejection of Sufism in the Modern World (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 1999). 68 Alexander Knysh, “The Tariqa on a Landcruiser: The Resurgence of Sufism in Yemen,” The Middle East Journal 55, 3 (2001): 399-414.

importance of hagiographical narratives, ecstatic behavior and mysticism associated

with sufism.69 Not only did he battle the Salafis in Yemen, but he also embarked on

international tours introducing such more hadīth-oriented sufism as a countermeasure

to the global dominance of Salafism.

One country that he has frequently visited since 1993 has been Indonesia, upon

the invitation of prominent Indonesians.70 During his first visit to Indonesia, Habib

‘Umar brought back with him forty young Indonesian Muslims to be educated in

Hadramaut. By March 1997, it was reported that there were fifty Indonesian students,

predominantly Bā‘alawī, studying in Tarīm.71 Thus began the intellectual reconnection

between Indonesia and Hadramaut. It is important to note, however, that this

reconnection should not be seen simply as a rekindling of diasporic consciousness as it

involves not only Bā‘alawī but non-Hadrami Indonesians as well. These students were

treated as Indonesian international students and not as returning sons of migrants who

were there only for the sake of education. In Habib ‘Umar’s academy, these students

also organized Indonesian students’ association, thereby differentiating them from

local Hadramis.

In 1998, the first cohort of Habib ‘Umar’s students returned to Indonesia

bringing with them the new re-imagined hadīth-oriented sufism. Faced with the

similar context of a free atmosphere and expanding Salafi activism in Indonesia, these

students began to deploy new strategies to reconfigure Bā‘alawī religious authority in

69 Ibid. 70 For example, the invitation of K.H. Solahudin Wahid, the brother of the former president Abdulrahman Wahid and the head of the prominent Tebuireng Pesantren. See: Solahudin Wahid, “Ziarah ke Hadramaut,” Republika (30 May 2008). 71 “Santri Indonesia Mondok di Yaman,” Republika (22 August, 1997).

a fashion more recognizable to the reformist Salafis. One of the most prominent and

successful Bā‘alawī of this group is Habib Munzir al-Musawa.

Born in Cipanas, West Java in 1973, Munzir’s background was different from

most Bā‘alawī scholars in Indonesia. His father was a New York University-educated

journalist and except for him, all Munzir’s siblings received secular education. After

concluding high school, Munzir became increasingly interested in sufism and began to

study under several Bā‘alawī and kyais in Jakarta. During Habib ‘Umar’s visit to

Indonesia in 1993, Munzir decided to follow him back to Hadramaut.72 Habib ‘Umar

became Munzir’s source of authority and legitimacy.

Upon returning to Jakarta, Munzir secured financial backing from several donors

from among the Bā‘alawī and others and embarked on a missionary campaign across

Java. At first, he utilized the traditional clientele relationship with kyais connected to

the old network, supplying them with funds to organize oratory sessions in their

localities. Although he succeeded in organizing heavily-attended sessions throughout

Java and beyond, the campaigns did not manage to materialize into a self-sustaining

movement and no continuity could be achieved. In addition, such a capital-intensive

campaign speedily exhausted the funds Munzir was entrusted with, inviting donor

suspicion.73 As his financial means decreased, the sessions also came to an abrupt end.

Munzir came to a conclusion that the traditional clientele relationship between

Bā‘alawī and kyai was no longer effective.

Observing the roles played by the youth in mobilizing masses as well as the

success of Hasan in establishing his own power-base, Munzir altered his strategy for

72 Munzir al-Musawa (Interview, 15/07/2009). 73 Ibid.

direct access to Muslim youth. Avoiding the problematic legacies of the engagement

of the older generation and their networks with the last gasps of the New Order

Regime, Munzir established several small weekly youth study-groups in Jakarta. In

2000, Munzir set up a weekly gathering, Majelis Rosulullah (MR) in Jakarta, attended

by an increasing number of youth. He also began to manage MR branches all over the

country. By 2004, MR had fifty-four branches throughout the Archipelago.74 The

name of Munzir’s organization reflected the h adīth-oriented sufism he inherited from

Habib ‘Umar. Observing the failure of Hasan to garner support from the Salafi-

dominated Muslim students, Munzir was convinced that by presenting Tarīqa

‘Alawīyya and the authority of the Bā‘alawī in a more scripturalist mode recognizable

to the Salafis, he could win their hearts. Presenting the tarīqa in a scripturalist form,

however, did not mean that Munzir stripped it of its spiritual practices and liturgies.

On the contrary, Munzir defended practices associated with sufism such as mawlid,

intercession, and grave visitation by employing Prophetic hadīths and Qur’anic

exegesis subscribed to by the reformists. These positions are clearly set forth in

Munzir’s book, which explains Sufi practices and justified them scripturally.75

Referencing works used in reformist circles, Munzir construct his arguments in a form

recognizable to the reformists. Further supporting his authority and credibility, the

concluding part of the book listed several isnād he possessed, including a chain of the

Sah īh al-Bukhārī. The deployment of isnād reinforced Munzir’s legitimacy on matters

scriptural. Munzir, therefore, personified the interaction of domestic Indonesian

developments and the religious dynamics in post-unification Yemen.

74 “Majelis Taklim Rasulullah: Penyeru Ajaran Nabi SAW,” Al-Kisah, 4, III (27 February 2005) p. 87. 75 Munzir al-Musawa, Kenalilah Aqidahmu (Jakarta: Majelis Rosulullah, n.d.).

While the book justifies sufi practices such as grave visitation by engaging with

scriptural arguments, Munzir also organized grave visitations. He arranged public

visitation to the graves of Bā‘alawī saints around Jakarta. Taking heed not to alienate

his reformist students, he began this practice by visiting the national heroes’ cemetery

(pahlawan nasional) and hosted a prayer session there.76 In his speech, Munzir

reminded his followers of the heroes’ sacrifices for the nation, while simultaneously

discussing the permissibility of grave visitation.77 Following the success of the public

visitation to the heroes’ cemetery, Munzir brought his followers to the graves of

Bā‘alawī saints. He was very cautious, however, to present these Bā‘alawī

personalities not as “saints” but as Muslim activists and reformers. Thus, when

visiting the grave of Habib ‘Ali al-Habsji in Kwitang, Munzir discussed his social

activism, missionary zeal, love for the nation and his adherence in following the

Prophet’s footsteps.78 In other words, saints were portrayed not in a devotional manner

but in more rationalized modes by presenting their achievements in this-worldly

spheres of activity.

A similar phenomenon in the broader context of contemporary Indonesian Islam

has been discussed by Michael Feener in his discussion of the ways that more

rationalized approaches to religious figures are transforming the process of veneration

into what he called ‘appreciation.’79 The new ‘appreciation’ of the sainthood of

Bā‘alawī scholars provides a new space for communicating the saint’s worldly

76 In Indonesia, the title ‘national heroes of Indonesia’ is given to the patriots who have made substantial contribution to the history of the nation. The conferment of the title is a highly formalized event officially declared by a Presidential Decision. Such process formed a rigid and formal canon of Indonesian national heroes. 77 Munzir al-Musawa (Interview, 15/07/2009). 78 Ibid. 79 R. Michael Feener, “Shaykh Yusuf and the Appreciation of Muslim ‘Saints’ in Modern Indonesia,” Journal for Islamic Studies 18-19 (1998-1999): 112-131.

achievements, framed in the vocabularies of Prophetic piety and Indonesian

nationalism as inspiration for others. In doing so, Munzir managed to incorporate

Bā‘alawī sacred places and canon of saints into his mission without alienating any

would-be ‘reformist’ followers.

Munzir employed the figure of the Prophet as the symbol of his organization. In

this way Munzir, like al-Habsji and Ibn Jindan before him, worked to recast the

religious authority of the Bā‘alawī in the mold of Prophetic piety. Munzir, however,

presented a highly scripturalist form of Prophetic piety without explicit reference to

the Bā‘alawī, preferring to use Sah īh al-Bukhārī, which is a text of Prophetic h adīth

highly revered by all Sunni Muslims. Taking the study of hadīth as the foundation of

his organization enabled Munzir to communicate with and be recognized by the

reformist-oriented urban youth.

The reconfiguration and re-presentation of Prophetic piety was clearly

demonstrated in his weekly gathering where he meticulously combined sufi rituals

with recitals of hadīth texts. The session began by reciting the mawlid, accompanied

by drums reflecting the articulation of Sufi metaphysics in the form of popular

devotion to the Prophet. Following the mawlid, several hadīth from the Sahīh al-

Bukhārī were recited and Munzir delivered a verbal commentary on the hadīths.

Refraining from discussing sufi metaphysics, Munzir’s orations discussed the hadīths

in relation to the problems faced by the Muslims in Indonesia.80 His emphasis on

hadīth-based prophetic piety was clearly expressed in Munzir’s frequent statements of

MR’s objective: turning Jakarta into the ‘veranda of Medina.’81In doing so, he

80 Personal Observation (07/06/2009). 81 Munzir al-Musawa (Interview, 15/07/2009).

successfully tied scriptural discourses to the more general Indonesian public

discussions, thereby presenting Prophetic piety in communication with the idea of the

common good. By recasting the tarīqa in reformist fashion in communication with

contemporary developments, Munzir successfully raised his popularity and secured his

authority by capturing the scripturalist proclivities of the student demographic.

Munzir’s success however, was not solely the result of his reconfiguration of

authority to suit the changing local context. More importantly, its success lies in the

utilization of modern technology. Munzir actively utilized modern communications

technology to further his missionary agenda and enlarge his following. For instance, in

safeguarding his popularity, Munzir continued to manage direct access to his

supporters mediated by the Internet. In his website, www.majelisrasulullah.org,

Munzir administers a question-and-answer forum, where his supporters can contact

him directly, enabling them to interact directly with and even express criticism to

Munzir.82 This enables Munzir to continually re-adjust himself to the demands of his

supporters.83 Apart from this, the website also features his speeches, reports and

agendas, facilitating long-distance students and supporters. This intensive use of the

internet indicates that Munzir’s demographic target is largely that of middle-class,

university-educated Muslim youth. Munzir thus epitomizes the new phenomenon of

the mediated shaykh.

The website also generates revenue for Munzir’s organization. In his attempt to

make MR an independent organization, Munzir produced jackets, key rings, books,

82 http://www.majelisrasulullah.org/ <viewed, 10/02/2010>. 83 Munzir al-Musawa (Interview, 15/07/2009).

posters, drums and DVDs, all bearing the MR logo.84 Adopting modern marketing

strategies enables Munzir to generate income while promoting his organization. For

instance, most of his supporters wore MR jackets making the organization quite

visible in public space. With Munzir, the tarīqa was rearranged into a modern

organization similar to that of fan clubs popular among the urban youth. Munzir,

therefore, successfully constructed his movement to correspond with broader

development of branding Islamic vision such the ‘Manajemen Qalbu’ of Abdullah

Gymnastiar. Such marketing schemes effectively communicate his organization in

correspondence to Muslim consumerism in Indonesia.

One manifestation of this Muslim consumerist culture can be seen in the

popularity of new Muslim magazines. Following Suharto’s resignation, the

government reviewed the press regulations under which the Ministry of Information

could revoke a publication’s permit (SIUPP). The streamlining of the SIUPP

generated numerous new publications. During the first six months of the Habibie

government alone, five hundred new permits were issued.85 Several Islamic magazines

were released, most notably Sabili, a Salafi-oriented publication with a circulation of

around 100,000.86

This new trend drove the Bā‘alawī entrepreneur Harun Musawa to found al-

Kisah magazine in 2003. Started as a Muslim bimonthly with wide-ranging coverage,

Harun came to consider the Bā‘alawī as a niche market. Surprisingly, when he tried to

84http://www.majelisrasulullah.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=1&Itemid=3&lang=id <viewed, 10/02/2010>. 85 Krishna Sen & David T. Hill, Media, Culture and Politics in Indonesia (Oxford: OUP, 2000) pp. 69-70. 86 Syamsu Rijal, “Media and Islamism in Post-New Order Indonesia: The Case of Sabili,” Studia Islamika 12, 3 (2005): 425-470.

include stories of the Bā‘alawī saints, the market responded positively.87 Thus on its

second year, al-Kisah posed photos of Bā‘alawī scholars on its cover.88 Again, the

market responded positively and Musawa’s circulation agents requested that he

continues to put Bā‘alawī scholars’ photos on the cover. From then on, al-Kisah

became a popular magazine specially catering to Indonesian Muslims with sufi-

orientation and particularly those who recognize the Bā‘alawī’s religious authority.

The contents of the magazine focuses on profiles of Bā‘alawī saints and scholars,

reports and agendas of study-groups in Indonesia as well as articles on spiritual, legal,

dream and theological consultations. Refraining from discussing political issues, al-

Kisah mainly focuses on the world of the Bā‘alawī and their followers in Indonesia.

To date, al-Kisah’s circulation ranges from 60,000-90,000 per edition.89

Examining the section of the magazine called ‘Friends of al-Kisah’ illustrates the

magazine’s active readership though the information it provides:

Table 1: Age distribution al-Kisah active readership.

Age Distribution Total Percentage 10-19 222 27% 20-29 546 66% 30-39 52 6% 40-49 1 0% 50-59 1 0% 60-69 1 0% Grand Total 823 100%

Source: al-Kisah (January 2004 to September 2007)

87 Harun Musawa (Interview, 23/08/2009). 88 The first issue to do so was no. 19/II (12/09/2004). 89 Harun Musawa (Interview, 23/08/2009).

Table 2: Regional distribution of al-Kisah active readership

Regional Distribution Greater Jakarta

West Java

East Java

Central Java

South Sulaw esi

North Sulaw esi

West Sulaw esi

Southeast Sulaw esi

Central Sulaw esi

West Sumatra

North Sumatra

Source: al-Kisah (January 2004 to September 2007)

Table 3: Distribution of al-Kisah active readership according to educational level

Educational Distribution Total Percentage

Secondary School 37 8% High School 207 43% University 109 23% Post-Graduate 0 0% Diploma Program 28 6% Military 1 0% Pesantren 94 20%

Grand Total 476 100% Source: al-Kisah (January 2004 to September 2007)

Although far from a complete and exhaustive source, the data can be useful in

identifying al-kisah’s active readership as being mostly young people (between 15-30

years old), living mainly in Java with high concentration in Jakarta and Central Java,

educated in high schools and university. The educational distribution also indicates

that the magazine’s active readership is made up predominantly of readers from non-

pesantren backgrounds. Of 476 responding readers only 94 were educated in

pesantren. 244 respondents are still in school, whether secondary or high school and

137 are educated in tertiary institutions.

Among the Muslim groups frequently covered by al-Kisah, Munzir’s MR tops

the list. Several articles discuss Munzir and his organization.90 The magazine also

covers the visits of foreign scholars such as Habib ‘Umar to MR, adding to the group’s

legitimacy.91 Another article tells a story of a delinquent boy, who repented after

attending MR, and afterwards brought his whole family to attend.92 Such articles

helped to construct the successful image of MR among the readership and expanded

Munzir’s popularity beyond Jakarta. For instance, a letter thanked the magazine for

covering Munzir telling how through him, the writer had found the true path and asked

the magazine to continue covering Munzir.93 Another letter requested the magazine to

supply a pin-up photo of Munzir.94 A letter entitled ‘Habib Munzir my Idol!’ asked the

magazine to prepare a special section for transcript of Munzir’s speeches.95

These examples underline the powerful mediating effect of the magazine to

expand Munzir’s credibility. Recasting his organization in a popular and marketable

way attracted the attention of modern media such as al-Kisah, which in turn enabled

Munzir to be publicly more-recognized and appreciated. Such functions previously

operated by the kyais were now maintained by the media that catered to the

90 Two articles describe MR in details: “Majelis Taklim Rasulullah: Penyeru Ajaran Nabi SAW,” Al-Kisah, 4, III (27 February 2005); “Habib Berjenggot Merah,” al-Kisah, 9, IV (7 May 2006). Another article carries a biography of Munzir: “Pembangkit Bagi Ahli Surga,” al-Kisah, 3, V (11 February 2007). 91 “Habib Umar bin Hafidz di Majelis Rasulullah SAW,” al-Kisah, 6, IV (26 March 2006); “Agama itu Mudah, Jangan Dipersulit,” al-Kisah, 14, IV (16 July 2006). 92 “Berjuang tak Kenal Lelah,” al-Kisah, 21, III (23 October 2005). 93 “Habib Munzir Idolaku,” al-Kisah, 12, III (20 June 2005). 94 “Bangga dengan Habib Munzir,” al-Kisah, 16, III (14 August 2005). 95 “Habib Munzir Idolaku!,” al-Kisah, 9, IV (7 May 2006).

increasingly consumerist Indonesian Muslims. This was a substantial departure from

the earlier Bā‘alawī-kyai network, indicating a reconfiguration of religious authority in

contemporary Indonesia. With the popularity of new Muslim magazines, however,

scholar such as Munzir no longer needed to mediate the kyais and are instead

themselves being mediated by magazines such as al-Kisah and by sufi-oriented

websites. Thus Munzir epitomizes a different role from previous Bā‘alawī scholars,

that of the mediated shaykh. That is, Munzir is a scholar whose authority is expressed

in new ways with relation to both the form and content of contemporary consumer

culture.

With Al-Kisah therefore, the Bā‘alawī became established as an Indonesian

popular phenomenon, indicating their successful integration to the wider public. Such

integration into national dynamics was the result of the Bā‘alawī self-conscious effort

to adapt to the changing social and political contexts of post-Suharto Indonesia. By

continuously recasting their tarīqa in a form attractive to the changing tastes of

Indonesia’s Muslim public, the Bā‘alawī have managed to reconfigure their authority

to suit the prevalent Islamic discourse. While formerly, the Bā‘alawī needed the kyais

in establishing their authority, by the time of Munzir, such authority was generated

instead by his ability to market his ideas to correspond with growing Muslim

consumerism. By adapting to this changing notion of religious authority, Bā‘alawī

scholars like Munzir are able to secure their own authority while at the same time

become an integral part of contemporary Indonesian religious and cultural dynamics.

Conclusion On 20 March 2008, around 100,000 Indonesian Muslims gathered at the National

Monument (Monas) to commemorate the birthday of the Prophet Muhammad.

Organized by Habib Munzir al-Musawa, the celebration drew the participation of

Muslim scholars, government and military officials as well as political leaders. The

celebration reciting the mawlid written by the Hadrami Habib ‘Umar b. Hafīd, took on

the slogan of “Make our Muhammad the idol of today’s youth (Jadikan Sayyidina

Muhammad sebagai Idola Pemuda Masa Kini).”96

The event symbolized the successful adaptation of the Bā‘alawī and their Tarīqa

‘Alawīyya to the new cultural and political contexts of contemporary Indonesia. The

ritual was a sufi liturgy conveying a message of Prophetic piety recognizable to

Islamic reformists. The venue was the national monument, symbolizing the Bā‘alawī’s

continuing commitment to Indonesian nationalism. The slogan, utilizing the

vocabulary of contemporary popular cultural expressions such as Indonesian or

American ‘Idols’, communicates the message in the idiom of rising Muslim

consumerism.

In this paper I have traced permutations of the Bā‘alawī in the context of the

Islamic resurgence of the 1990s, which included the development of new

appreciations of sufism. With Munzir the Bā‘alawī, who formerly constituted a

diasporic community with their arcane and elitist sufi tradition, became an Indonesian

popular phenomenon. This shift in the orientation of the sufi path obliges a rethinking

on examining the Bā‘alawī as merely a diasporic Hadrami in post-colonial Indonesia.

In this regard, this paper demonstrates some of the ways in which the history of the 96 “Tabligh Akbar, Ribuan Orang Putihkan Monas,” www.detik.com <viewed, 10/05/2008>.

Bā‘alawī was integrally linked to the development of other Muslim groups in the

country. The surfacing, submergence, and resurfacing of the Bā‘alawī correspond with

analogous developments in Indonesian Islam more generally. This calls into question

the usefulness of continuing to approach the Hadramis in post-colonial Indonesia

through the lenses of Diaspora Studies.

It is my contention that the Bā‘alawī can be more productively viewed as part of

Indonesian Islam than as a self-referential Hadrami diaspora. By escaping the

diasporic framework of analysis, we are in a position to better appreciate the history of

the Bā‘alawī, their success in integrating themselves with the dominant discourses of

nationalism and Islamic reformism, in cementing social bonds with the kyais and other

Indonesian Muslims, while at the same time maintaining their identity, heritage, and

tradition in a coherent way. Through adaptation and creative manipulation of their

discursive tradition, the Bā‘alawī came to be recognized as Indonesians albeit with a

unique genealogical distinction. Adopting such positions enabled the Bā‘alawī to

navigate the middle way in the ongoing creative tensions between assimilation and

exceptionalism.

----------------

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Interviews Abdul Hayyie Na’im (Jakarta, 22 July 2009)

Habib Munzir al-Musawa (Jakarta, 15 July 2009) Harun Musawa (Jakarta, 23 August 2009)