A Traditional Leader in a Time of Change: The Kijaji and Ulama in West Java (PhD thesis, University of Illinois)

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Xerox University Microfilms 300 North Zeeb Roaa Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106 === [PDF page 2] === 76-24,105 HORIKOSHI, Hiroko, 1944A TRADITIONAL LEADER IN A TIME OF CHANGE: THE KIJAJI AND ULAMA IN WEST JAVA. University of Illinois at UrbanaChampaign, Ph.D., 1976 Anthropology, cultural XerOX University MiCrOfilmS, Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106 ©Copyright by Hiroko Horikoshi 1976 === [PDF page 3] === A TRADITIONAL LEADER IN A TIME OP CHANGE: THE KIJAJI AND ULAMA IN WEST JAVA HIROKO HORIKOSHT B.A., International Christian University, Tokyo, 1968 A.M., University of I l l i n o i s, 1972 THESIS Submitted in p a r t i a l fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Anthropology i n the Graduate College of the University of I l l i n o i s a t Urbana-Champaign, 1976 Urbana, I l l i n o i s === [PDF page 4] === UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN THE GRADUATE COLLEGE APRIL, 1976 WE HEREBY RECOMMEND THAT T H E THESIS BY HIROKO HORIKOSHI „XT_TrnTr,^ A TRADITIONAL LEADER IN A TIME OF CHANGE: THE KIJAJI iiJN i l l LliU. AND ULAMA IN WEST JAVA BE ACCEPTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY THE DEGREE OF. CLv£ ^ Swuos. Head of Department Committee on Final Examination! t Required for doctor's degree but not for master's D517 === [PDF page 5] === 111 ACKNOWLEDGEMENT I am greatly indebted to Dr. Edward M. Bruner for his guidance throughout my graduate school years, and for his patience with me while I was working on this dissertation. I am also indebted to Dr. David Plath for having never given up on me even after he discovered that I was not going to become a Japanese specialist, I am also grateful to my friend and teacher Dr. Lawrence Crissman for his editorial comments which I have incorporated into this dissertation. On the other side of the Pacific, all my love and thanks go to Kijaji Yusuf Tauziri and my gracious and kind hostess, Ibu Quresyn, who allowed me to stay in her house and took care of me during my field work in her village. My fond appreciation goes to my husband, Dr. Peter 6. Roe, for his moral and financial support during the past five years and for his encouragement and care when I became discouraged with my work. There have been many others who have generously offered their assistance along the way. To all these people whose names and love will always remain with me, I dedicate this dissertation. === [PDF page 6] === TABLE OF CONTENTS Page INTRODUCTION METHODOLOGY A. Research Site 17 B. Field Work and Method 26 C. Organization of the Dissertation 33 D. Relevance 35 PART ONE: THE ISLAMIC VILLAGE CHAPTER I. THE ISLAMIC VILLAGE AND THE ULAMA 38 A. The Village Founder and the Residents 42 B. Kinship System and Status Differentiation 45 C. Marriage, Residence and Mobility 49 D. Social Organization: Cognatic Kindred and Ambilineal Descent Groups 69 E. Small Domestic Units: Family Structure 75 F. The Village Unit, Boundaries and Ties with Neighboring Villages. 79 II. LIFE IN A POST-TRADITIONAL PEASANT COMMUNITY: The Pattern of Changing Rural Economy and Economic Behavior 89 A. Agricultural Practices 91 B. The Fragmentation of Land Holding in Cipari 110 C. Sources of Cash 121 D. The Complementary System of Land Tenure and Cash Economy: The Mobilization of Capital E. The Ulama and the Changing Rural Economic Behavior 128 135 === [PDF page 7] === Page CHAPTER III. LIFE IN A POST-TRADITIONAL PEASANT COMMUNITY: The Life Cycle A. Bi r th 146 146 B. Growing Up in a Muslem Community .............150 C. Marri age 157 D. Adulthood: The Woman's World 160 E. Adulthood: The Man's World 171 F. Death and Funerals 176 PART TWO: THE VILLAGE ULAMA IV. THE ULAMA AS AN INSTITUTION 186 A. The History and Tradition 189 B. Human Resources 200 C. Economi c Resources 220 V. INSTITUTIONAL FUNCTIONS OF THE ULAMA 232 A. The Ulama as Functionaries of the Mosque and Madrasah 233 B. The Ulama as Educators, Ahli Pendidikan 240 C. The Ulama as Islamic Legal Expert and Enforcer 261 VI. THE ULAMA AND THE MUSLEM VILLAGERS 271 A. The Belief System and the Function of the Ulama 271 B. The Strategy of the Ulamas' Power and Influence 294 C. Interactions between the Ulama and the Villagers 300 D. Lebaran: The Symbolic Reintegration 306 VII. THE ULAMA AND THE SUPRA-VILLAGE SYSTEMS 316 A. The Ulama and the Agents of National Systems 316 B. The Ulamas' Network and Access to Islamic Organizations 328 === [PDF page 8] === Page PART THREE: THE KIJAJI CHAPTER VIII. THE CHARISMATIC KIJAJI 344 A. The Nature of Charismatics and Charismatic Phenomena 346 B. The Nature of the Kijajis' Charisma 348 C. Preserving Charismatic Influence 364 D. The Structure and Function of the Kijaji 368 CONCLUSION 374 A. Theoretical Considerations 375 B. Islamic Scholars and the Competing National Systems 381 REFERENCES CITED 388 VITA 394 === [PDF page 9] === VII LIST OF TABLES Table Page 1. Marriages between cousins (shows wife's relation to husband) 51 2. Marriages between cousins once removed (shows wife's relation to husband 3. Marriages between cousins twice removed 52 53 4. Marriage distribution by generational differences (shows women's relationships to their husbands) 54 5. Marriage and mobility among the descendants of Zainal Abidin.... 56 6. Marriage and mobility among the descendants of Zainal Abidin (further details) 57 7. Marriage ana mobility among the descendants of Hasan 62 8. Marri ages and mobi1i ty 63 9. Marriage pattern and mobility among men 63 10. Marriage pattern and mobility among women 64 11. Fluctuation of exogamously married men and their mobility 64 12. Percentage of outward mobility against population increase 65 13. Outward mobility and its destination 66 14. The influx of outsiders through marriage 68 15. Fami ly types 75 16. Compositions of the stem families 77 17. Land fragmentation in Cipari 112 18. Maro tenants' expenses and profits for 100 bata (in rupiah) 123 19. Land tenure and cash economy 126 20. Land tenure and cash economic activity 141 21. Educational institutions (junior high level) in the southeastern district of Garut 248 22. Changes in student enrollment: Tsanawiyah 250 === [PDF page 10] === viil Table Page 23. Occupations of students' fathers 256 24. 256 Landholding among students' families 25. The status of the teachers 257 26. Change of student enrollment: SP.IAIN 258 27. 259 Educational backgrounds of the students in 1973 === [PDF page 11] === LIST OF FIGURES Figure Page 1. General map: Priangan residency 10 2. Map of area: Desa Citangtu 22 3. Map of village Cipari 23 43 Kinship ties 5. Collateral classifiers 46 Generational classifiers 46 Sundanese kinship terms 48 Endogamous marriages: Cipari Babakan 59 Levels of kindred circles 71 10. Cognatic descent group segmentation 72 11. Family composition 76 12. Kinship ties with neighboring villages 81 13. Sketch-map of water flow 85 14. Landholding in 1900 115 15. Landholding in 1930 116 16. Landholding in 1950 117 17. Landholding in 1960 118 18. Landholding in 1970 119 19. The ulamas' family: kinship and marriage 191 20. Expansion of ulama in time and space 207 21. Mobility among ulama - 1: the first and second generations, 1850 - 1900 208 22. Mobility among ulama - 2: the third generation, 1900 - 1930 209 23. Mobility among ulama - 3: the fourth generation, 1930 - 1950...210 24. Mobility among ulama - 4: the fifth generation, 1950 - 1970....211 === [PDF page 12] === Figure Page 25. Cosmology: space 273 26. Cosmology: time 274 === [PDF page 13] === INTRODUCTION This dissertation is about the kijaji and the ulama in rural West Java, Indonesia. Kijaji and ulama are titles of Islamic specialists. In Western literature the distinction between the two types of specialists has been blurred and the two have been often used interchangeably (Geertz 1960b: 134) but in the minds of Musi em followers and to a careful observer, the distinction appears clear and important to the organization of Islamic communities. Any group, community or society has some form of dominant symbols which effectively function to unify the group and induce actions from its members (Turner 1967). In the case of rural Islamic communities, a kijaji serves this role in defending the ummat (community) and Islamic ideals against threats of outside secular forces. A kijaji is a charismatic religious leader and is equipped with an eloquent tongue and a shrewd ability to read his followers' minds. A kijaji is characteristically blunt, outspoken and courageous in his demeanor and even as a scholar he far surpasses the ulama in applying the ijtithad principle (logical interpretations of Islamic doctrines). He is able to relate otherwise unintelligible theological issues to the Muslem peasants' conscience, and in essence, a kijaji appears to be the epitome of divine revelation in the eyes of the beholder. He recruits his followers extensively and lives along a major road, in a small town or even in a city. Precisely because of his very charismatic nature, a kijaji's position in the community is only temporary and transitory. Since his authority is not backed by institutional continuity, his failure to meet charismatic expectations of his followers will result in a decline of his authority. === [PDF page 14] === Since a kijaji's influence depends on his personal qualities, abilities and dynamism, his sons without necessary qualifications cannot succeed him in his position. The death of such a kijaji is usually marked by the end of charismatic phenomena, and as a result, the community will lose a unifying leader and a viable force. The maintenance of Islamic tradition therefore has been kept in the hands of the ulama. An ulama is a religious functionary. He occupies a religious office in the Islamic institution of the ulamate, which has been traditionally perpetuated by a handful of rural middle-class families specializing in producing ulama cadres and taking responsibility for preserving Islamic orthodoxy. Every village ulama owns or is affiliated with a mosque where he serves as imam sembahyang (a prayer leader) and penasehat (a preacher) of Cho'bah Friday meetings. Most ulama run madrasah (where villagers and santri students gather to learn Quranic verses and listen to the ulamas' sermons). Some of them also own and operate their own pesantren (systematic religious schools of traditional kind) where santri students are enrolled en-masse in a boarding school style. An ulama serves villagers in a remote and well-bounded community with which his family has had a traditional tie as a patron of the community. Besides his regular religious services, he provides religious facilities, administers religious rituals, settles legal disputes and quarrels, lends money if necessary, and answers spiritual and religious questions. An ulama, however, is not so much a scholar as he is a teacher, and even his style of teaching exemplifies the taglid method; blind obedience to the works compiled by preceding scholars. His authority is limited to the parochial locality. In principle, the difference between the two types of Islamic specialists is a matter of status and influence. Both of these titles are === [PDF page 15] === neither ascribed nor achieved but are conferred to individuals who are seen to have outstanding religious scholarship, moral and religious i n t e g r i t y and the a b i l i t y to teach and preach. for the differences. Age, demeanor and experience also account Each t i t l e - h o l d e r can expect resp°ct, obedience and recognition of his authority over the community, but there is a marked difference in the degree of the actual influence held by the two types of specialists. These t i t l e s distinguish the two specialists' status from each other in relation to the sacred and to the rest of the community. Consequently, the a t t i t u d e, behavior and expectations of peasant Musi em followers to each of the two d i f f e r s i g n i f i c a n t l y. The d i f f e r e n t roles and statuses of the two types of religious leadership seem comparable to the Feithian model of "symbolic" and "administrative" An aspiring ulama with a l l the necessary q u a l i f i c a - tions may in time succeed in r i s i n g to the position of a k i j a j i, but within a given system, his relationship with a k i j a j i is marked by cooperation and obedience rather than a competition. Between the two, a most enduring and comprehensive system is maintained, for the k i j a j i pump in forces of dynamic activism, f l e x i b i l i t y and change while the ulama counteract such forces with the s t a b i l i t y and continuity of the Islamic t r a d i t i o n. The important position and significant influence of these specialists in Islamic communities have long been recognized by local and national authorities as well as Western scholars (Anwar 1969, Geertz 1956, 1960a, 1960b, Jay 1963, Siegel 1969, and Benda 1958). Muslem peasants have always looked to them f o r their leadership and guidance in collective and personal matters, and these specialists have responded to such expectations by acting as guardians of the community's interest and upholders of Islamic orthodoxy. As a group, some of them gave an impetus to the rise of such peasant === [PDF page 16] === movements as the Hizbullah and Sabilillah armies during the Indonesian revolutionary wars (1945-1949), the Darul Islam movement (the "Islamic State" movement of 1948 to 1962), the Outer Island Rebellion (1958-1962), and numerous other rebellions during the colonial era. Whether these Islamic specialists could survive against the currents of socio-economic and political changes in a complex society-at-large seerns a critical question to the continuity of the Islamic religion as a viable force. Despite the fact, however, the structural and functional nature of these important figures in rural Indonesia has never been fully studied. Such questions as the economic and sociological basis of their enduring power and authority, the extent of their influences, the institutional mechanisms of their continuity, and the nature of their relationship with peasant followers have not yet been satisfactorily answered. This dissertation, therefore, aims to provide preliminary answers to these questions. It will first bring to light the organization of Islamic communities and these specialists' roles and functions. Then it will show their private and institutional strategies for preserving Islamic orthodoxy, institutions, communities and, most important of all, their own structural positions and authorities in a changing community. Theoretical Considerations The major theoretical question to be considered in this dissertation is concerned with the notion of "mediators" and "cultural brokers". This mediator concept has appeared to students of complex societies as a useful approach for analyzing changes in the community and the level of national integration. "Mediators" can be defined as individuals or a group of individuals who occupy linking positions and mediate between the community and the urban- === [PDF page 17] === based national systems. Depending upon their structural positions in the network of complex societies, these mediators could be traditional leaders who "stand guard over the crucial junctures or synapses of relationships which connect the local system to the larger whole" (Wolf 1956: 1075) and "often act as buffers between groups, maintaining the tensions which provide the dynamic of their actions" (Wolf 1956: 1076). Examples of this type of mediators have been found among the Mexican Cacique (Friedrich 1968), the hacienda owners (Wolf 1956), the African chief (Fallers 1955) and the landlords in Italy (Silverman 1965). Or, these mediators could be "cultural brokers" and modernizing agents of change who have actively sought to introduce elements of urban cultures into the community. They include, for example, school teachers in India (Mandelbaum 1960) and Mexico (Press 1969) and representative peasants in Iran (Loffler 1971). Although it is problematic to lump together the two structurally different types of "mediators", both have been said to share one inherently characteristic aspect: As the community advances from one level of national integration to another, it is to be expected that one type of mediator will be replaced by a new type in accordance with the process of socio-economic and political change in the community and the complex society as a whole. Furthermore, it has been said that modernization in time will inevitably eliminate cultural brokers and mediators altogether (Scott 1972, Silverman 1965: 188). However, the case of Islamic specialists in West Java seems to contradict and casts doubt on these assumptions. Due to their superior positions in the community, Islamic specialists have traditionally occupied linking positions, but they are no longer the sole group of individuals with access to the outside systems. Despite this fact, not only have they withstood the forces of change, but have actively === [PDF page 18] === generated essential changes in the community, creating educational and economic opportunities. Furthermore, contrary to Geertz' portrayal of the rural kijaji in East Java, those living in West Java about fifteen years after his study still manifest their de-facto power and ability to outwit even the national authorities. One easy way to dismiss the case altogether is, of course, to say that the community under investigation has not fully reached the point of "takeoff" from the traditional past. But this only obscures the problem of the structural position of "mediators", for socio-cultural change is an ongoing process, and, as some recent anthropologists have pointed out (e.g. Bruner 1966), the distinction between "traditional" and "modern" is a heuristic concept which has been arbitrarily imposed by Western scholars and does not necessarily correspond to any universal, empirical criteria. On the contrary, it is the existing "mediator" concept that fails to explain the phenomena characteristic of contemporary traditional leaders such as Islamic specialists in West Java. The trouble with most of the "mediator" studies stems from their bent toward a situational analysis of the "predicaments" of traditional leaders as manifested in the new communitynation relationship. What needs to be emphasized is that these "predicaments" have always existed in one form or another before traditional leaders, for no society is fixed nor stable, and any change inherently presents a new challenge to these traditional leaders. What is more important and fruitful than "predicament" studies, then, is the analysis of their survival strategies and the ways they have resolved these "predicaments" by making creative adaptations to the forces of change (Bruner, 1961, 1972, and 1973). One neglected fact about the individuals in the linking positions is their advantage, deriving from the position, over national or local systems. === [PDF page 19] === As Bailey has insightfully noted (1969:167-76), brokers are the ones who best see working principles of group relationships. If they are to preserve their linking positions, they must carefully control the dissemination of information from one sector to another. Likewise, traditional leaders who have guarded their linking positions over generations have inherited the knowledge of the group relationship between the community and the national systems. This knowledge of working mechanisms of the complex society is a key to their survival, enabling them to manipulate both social groups to their own best advantage. In this sense, traditional leaders such as Islamic specialists are better anthropologists than anthropologists themselves. Capable leaders in the linking positions engage in a subtle power play with the outside dominant systems while at the same time use cultural symbols to signify their relationship with their followers so as to secure the loyalty of the community. It is in this field that we can observe the masterful skill of the "mediators", and it is to this question that this dissertation is addressed. Once we examine the nature of the structural positions of traditional leaders in the community-nation integration and learn their vulnerability to and predicaments before change in the community-nation relationship, we begin to see that the question is essentially one of loyalty, for as Wolf has noted (1956: 1076) their "success in these operations depends on the size and strength of their personal followers". Here again, Bailey's observation of brokers is a useful one: Once a broker discovers (ac, a result of an establishment of a direct communication network between two ends to be mediated) that he is no longer able to withhold information from each end, he has one choice left: to pledge their loyalty to one of the two sectors. In other words, "mediators" and "brokers" are essentially temporary phenomena but === [PDF page 20] === individuals who occupy these positions may survive in a different form, as agents of one sector. This shift of positions seems to be a recurrent phenomena and is also manifested in the Islamic specialists in question. Islamic leaders are neither middlemen in the pure sense or mediating "cultural brokers" and believers in modernization. Their loyalty lies with the local community from which they derive their structual positions and the continuity of their power. Their mediating efforts, which seem so contradictory to those of other stereotypic traditional leaders, can then be seen as an aspect of their creative adaptation to change in the complex society as a whole, for in order to keep their role and position relevant, they must meet the new expectations of their peasant followers who have long learned of the world outside the community. This dissertation will analyze the nature of these specialists' roles in the changing community-nation relationship and examine their relationship with the local constituents vis-a-vis the outside systems. As a result, a pattern of their adaptive strategies to change will emerge. Note: Webster's Third New International Dictionary(1961:1491) suggests three forms of spelling the word referring to the adherants of Islam: Muslim, Moslem and Musi em. I chose the last form to be used consistently throughout the dissertation. === [PDF page 21] === METHODOLOGY The data for t h i s dissertation were collected during one year of f i e l d research, from September 1972 to August 1973, in a village near the town of Garut, Priangan Regency, in West Java. The Priangan Regency (see Figure 1) stretches along the southeastern coast of West Java facing the Indian Ocean to the south. A volcanic mountain range runs from northwest to southeast dividing the regency into the coastal south and the h i l l y northern half. The lowland south has a rich coffee, rubber, and coconut plantation economy, while the northern mountainous t e r r i t o r y depends upon a terraced wet rice agriculture and dry horticulture economy, both of which are rich by Indonesian standards. A wet and dry agriculture based on the rich volcanic soil i n the past supported the Sundanese kingdoms, as well as the Mataram i n Central Java. I t is this rich agricultural soil that also attracted the Dutch to the regency during the three and one-half centuries of colonization before Indonesian Independence in 1945. The process of sociocultural integration of the Priangan communities into the national economy and systems began as early as 1677 when the Javanese kingdom of Mataram leased Sundanese West Java to the Dutch Company. Within a few decades, Priangan became the most profitable sector of the plantation economy with i t s coffee plantations. The Priangan System (Preangerstelsel as i t was called), served as a prototype for the "Culture System" l a t e r applied to wet rice agricultural areas in other parts of Java Under this system the Dutch-appointed regents, the Bupati, became entrusted agents of the Dutch for the collection of the required amount of === [PDF page 22] === FIGURE1 PRIANGAN REGENCY === [PDF page 23] === 11 coffee from the region. Each desa was collectively responsible for submitting a fixed amount of coffee in exchange for a minimal cash return (Wertheim 1969:198-200,289-291). This system of forced labor imposed upon the villagers the heavy burden of transporting the coffee to Batavia, and supporting the Bupati's as well as the district heads' income. Under the system, the alliance between the Dutch rulers and the regents was strengthened, but it also pushed the status position of the native administrators outside the indigenous status system. The introduction of cash agricultural products and a cash economy also hastened the process of land fluctuation and the maximum expansion of arable land. The process of economic deterioration under the colonial economic system over the centuries had long dislocated parts of the peasantry from their practice of subsistence economy in rural communities. The national integration proceeded during the three and one-half year Japanese occupation of Indonesia. The highly centralized colonial state reorganized effectively the national administrative apparatus and mobilized the grassroots population for the activities and propagation of Asian Nationalism in regions of hitherto isolated islands of the archepelago (Benda 1958), In rural Priangan the process of peasant dislocation further advanced during the revolutionary war and the more than a decade-long Darul Islam rebellion. During this period, geographic mobility of the Priangan population took place in all directions. During the incipient period of the war, residents of the Provincial capital, Bandung, sought refuge in rural kampungs after the fall of the city to the Dutch. When the Dutch established the puppet Pasundan government in the Province, and removed the Siliwangi division of the Indonesian National Army from the Province to the Republican capital of Jogjakarta in Central Java, many of the soldiers' families === [PDF page 24] === 12 accompanied the exodus. Then, when the Siliwangi returned to the Province after the fall of the Renville Agreement, and the Darul Islam rebellion acquired strength in East Priangan, the rural exodus from the mountainous regions of Priangan to the cities began (Kahin 1952:320-331). This sequence of political turmoil, dislocation of the peasantry and consequent economic decline in the Priangan Regency during the first decade of Independence seems to have caused the most drastic change of this century in the process of sociocultural integration. The schism between the Communists and the Musi em-Army coalition which developed a large-scale social disruption in other parts of Java throughout the 1950's and the first half of the 1960's did not have as much of an impact on West Java as this period of revolution and rebellion. The district of Garut is located in the middle of the Priangan Regency, with Bandung to the west and Tasik as its western neighbor. Garut is basically a wet rice agricultural territory along the northern side of the hilly slopes down to the plains of the River Cimanuk, which originates at Mt. Guntur, and runs through the valley and plains of Priangan, eventually joining the Java Sea at Cirebon, the northeast corner of the Province. The river collects mountain rain and springfed waters which are essential for irrigating the terraced wet rice fields along the way. In some areas of the northern sunny side of the high mountain slopes, where water is not readily accessible, such plantation goods as tea, rubber, and cloves are produced in dry fields. The other side of the mountain range to the south, however, is an area of economic impoverishment and has suffered considerable political disruption in recent years from Communist infiltration as well as from governmental neglect of economic interests. Since the abortive Communist coup in 1965, the present government has spent money to upgrade the region to === [PDF page 25] === 13 the normal standard. Roads have been built and repaired to help the population acquire easy access to cities and vice versa, and voluntary semiofficial groups have been working to organize communities with health care delivery and school systems. The district capital of Garut is located at the foot of Mt. Guntur. It is the seat of district government and all the administrative apparatus, including the ministry of domestic affairs, the police and military headquarters. The only hospital of the district with its ten doctors is found amidst banks, mosques, a post office, and a telephone-telegraph office. The city also functions as the commercial center of the district. The market is located at the northwest corner of the city and takes up as much as a quarter of the entire city. Most of the store owners are Chinese, except a few, but practically every street vendor and shopkeeper inside the market is an indigenous Indonesian. The market is known for locally produced Batik, sheep, tea and coffee, and functions as the heart of the entire district's economic system. Until recently, the city has also functioned as an educational center for the district, but the government only recently announced it would discontinue all the university extension services at district levels in order to concentrate all the universities in Provincial capitals. It was one of the government's attempts to depoliticize regions from the influences of the urban political climate, in which the youth and students have played a major part during the Sukarno era. Within a few years the functions of the city as an educational center will come to an end. Transportation is available from the city in all directions. The major road from Bandung to the north of the city connects the city with Tasikmalaya and buses are available on this route. Bemo, privately owned public === [PDF page 26] === 14 transportation, and horse carriages are major means of transportation for the residents and they constitute an essential source of income for their owners as well as for the district government, which levies a high tax on transportation businesses. All the terminals are furnished by public institutions, but none of the transportation mentioned above is public. The only publicly run transportation is the train which also connects the city with Bandung and Tasikmalaya; but during my stay there, the fare almost tripled. Before the raise of the fare it used to be the cheapest way for seasonal migrants to move back and forth between cities and villages, but since the raise the railroad business has come to compete with the privately operated public transportation which seems to run more efficiently than the public railroad system. The religion of Islam is the most important element that shapes the lives of the majority of the population in the district. According to Sundanese folklore, Islam was first introduced to the region by a Sundanese prince, Prabu Kian Santang, of the Hindu kingdom of Pajajaran. After his trip to Arabia, where he was converted to Islam, the prince returned home and fought against his father, the king Siliwangi, to convert the kingdom. He succeeded in his attempt and his father and followers turned into "tigers in despair." The lower-class soldiers of the kingdom ran away to the mountainous Cibee of Banten Regency where their descendants, known as Baduy, still live in traditional isolation. According to the history books, however, the spread of Islam into West Java began after the fall of Pajajaran in 1579 by the Sultanate of Cirebon. Garut, like Tasik, is an orthodox Islamic area and some of the bestknown pesantren in West Java have been traditionally located in such places as Leles, Sadang, Cibatu, Limgangan, and Malangbong, the last two of which === [PDF page 27] === 15 supported the Darul Islam rebellion. In other parts of the district, particularly along the major highways and in the major tov/ns, the religious fanaticism seems to have faded away. Today there are 32 PGA (Pendidikan Guru Agama, junior high level of school for religious teachers), five PGAA (Pendidikan Guru Agama Atas, senior high level of religious teachers' school), and one IAIN (Institute Agama Islam Negeri, National Islamic Institute). In private and informal sectors, there are 262 madrasah for higher learning, 273 beginning classes, 203 formal pesantren/pondok, and regular pengajians are held at 256 locations throughout the district. Politically, too, Islamic parties have a strong hold on the district. In the last election of 1971, the votes were divided almost equally between the Islamic parties and Golkar (Golongan Karya, the functional group, and the only government supported party). No secular party other than Golkar has any representation at the district council. Religious affiliation and practice is a matter of social concern among the district's residents. During my stay, a head of the district Red Cross voluntary organization was forced to resign when his membership in an unorthodox Islamic sect, Ahmadiyah Kodiyah, was uncovered. Several years ago, a young resident of Garut was seen breaking fast during the month of Ramadan (fasting month), and was beaten to death by a group of Musi em youths. Ustads, teachers of madrasah schools, are respected members of communities, and the ulama and the kijaji enjoy unchallenged authority. The recent Islamic revivalism is in a way a response to the change in political climate. Previously nominal Muslem residents became active followers, particularly out of fear of being called Communists after the abortive Communist coup in 1965. Most children attend madrasah, if not the public school, at least once during their childhood. === [PDF page 28] === 16 The crucial event that affected the district in the recent past was the Darul Islam rebellion which sv/ept through the region during the fifties, disturbing both the economy and the social life of the residents. The city of Garut was burned three times, and villages along the mountain range were virtually emptied. The residents left for the cities and lower plains to avoid the DI's (Darul Islam's) terrorist attacks. Some rice fields were left uncultivated and where the residents remained and worked their fields, it became difficult to ship harvests to markets as the roads were cut off. The influx of rural emigrants to the cities reached its peak in 1953, most of them settling in shacks of urban kampungs. When the military reestablished security in the region toward the end of the decade, many landed residents returned to villages. However, some landless residents remained in cities, and still others commuted to cities as seasonal migrants, leaving their families in the village. One important characteristic of the residents in the region has been their renowned economic assertiveness. The seasonal migration to cities, in fact, began during the Japanese occupation when the rural economy declined considerably. Local people sought economic opportunities in Jakarta, Bandung, and Tasik as coolies, petty traders, and semiskilled laborers. Through an extensive network of kinship and friendship, and supported by their families and patrons back home, they have come to specialize in some lower branches of the urban economy. These seasonal migrants' economic activities in cities have provided vital impetus to the rural economy, as they pump their earnings back into the regional economy. In recent years, since the present regime came into power, attempts to transfer urban wealth and rehabilitate long-neglected rural conditions have multiplied. However, IPD (Iuran Pembangunan Daerah, regional development === [PDF page 29] === 17 premium, consisting of 75 percent of withheld regional taxes) and INPRES (Instraksi Presiden, presidential instruction providing local administration with 100 rupiah per capita), have not been effectively utilized due to lack of technical assistance and managerial skills. These funds tend to be distributed to numerous minor projects rather than concentrated on one large project of major developmental significance. For example during the fiscal year 1971-1972, out of 56,000,000 rupiah less than half—24,819,638—was expended before the year ended (Pemerintah Daerah Kabupaten Garut, 1972). Most of the rural population feel little benefit from the government and the future is felt to be up to the independent effort of individuals and communities. A. Research Site The first task after arriving in Indonesia was to locate a research site where I could study both the kijaji and the ulama in the context of a rural community. After a month's research on several Islamic leaders, recommended by some urban politicians, university professors and assistants, I decided to concentrate on one kijaji, who lived in the small town of Wanaraja, about a 20-minute ride to the east of the city of Garut. Wanaraja is the subdistrict administrative seat. The subdistrict stretches from the mountain ridge of Mt. Telagabodas to the north as far as the River Cimanuk, covering the northwestern slope and the lowland. Before the Chinese v/ere expelled from the administrative subdistrict levels in 1957, the highland zone with rich volcanic soil was the heartland of commercial horticultural crops largely operated by the Chinese. The Chinese, who had leased the sunny mountain slopes from the local people and the government, raised labor intensive cash crops, such as corn, beans, potatoes, and cassava. === [PDF page 30] === 18 Ever since they left the region, however, the rich economy and the source of income for the local peasantry has died out as the indigenous landowners lacked capital to continue the industry. Due to its high altitude and the lack of water supply, the high land territory is used for rain-water wet rice agriculture only once a year. During the rainy seasons it can also grow garden crops to supplement the subsistent economy. During the dry season the land turns into feeding grounds for the well-known Tajur goats. In contrast to the economically impoverished highland zones, the lowland area is a rich wet rice region, producing more than a ton from 100 bata (oneseventh of ahectare) twice or three times a year. Besides the rich quality of the volcanic soil, this high productivity is attributed to the region's abundant water supply. The mildly terraced rice fields draw water not only from the river, which has collected mountain rainfall, but also from springs. Even the long draught of 1972, which damaged most of the crop in Central and East Java, did not affect the irrigated rice fields of the area. The lowland area is also marked by an increasing tendency of land accumulation by the rich. The process of land fluctuation among the small holders on one hand, and the accumulation of land for raising cash crops by a small number of the rich families on the other, has taken place only within the past century or so, resulting in an increasing gap between the rich and the poor. During the Sukarno era this economic imbalance created political instability as the Communists infiltrated the region and agitated against the rich. The two major Communist-influenced regions of the subdistrict, Cinunuk in the lowland and Tenjonegara of the highland, were only several kilometers from the town of Wanaraja where the kijaji resides. A major population concentration is found in the lowland areas along the === [PDF page 31] === 19 major road which connects the town of Wanaraja with Garut to the west and Sukawening to the east. Public transportation is available betv/een these two points. The town is also a commercial center of the subdistrict. The market is located at the middle of the town and on Wednesdays and Sundays it brings peddlers from the highland and customers from the lowland. During the Japanese occupation, the town and the market reached their highest peak of economic prosperity. The Japanese built a sulfur factory in the town drawing hot spring water from the volcanic Mt. Telagabodas through long pipelines, and brought Japanese and Indonesian engineers and administrators to the two ends of the pipeline. The economy flourished in the villages on the mountain as well as in the town. Ever since the town and the sulfur industry were completely destroyed by local fanatic nationalists during the early part of the revolution to prevent the Dutch from stationing in the town, the economy has declined as the new government has failed to reopen the factory and rehabilitate the market. The town's market is known for such specialized items as Tajur goats, tobacco, and kropok (dried shrimp crackers). Electricity is available along the main road. It was installed by the government for its strategic purposes during the revolutionary war and the Darul Islam rebellion. All the administrative organs of the subdistrict are found along this road, including the civil administration office, extensions of military headquarters, an office of religious affairs, a health clinic, a post office, and a national bank. The number of families who enjoy electricity is limited and running water is absent throughout the subdistrict. The 70-year-old kijaji's house is located just across the market along the major road. His predecessors, his father and elder brother, were imprisoned by the Dutch in relation to the Cimareme Affair-Afdeeling B incident (Oates 1968, Kartodirdjo 1972:115-117), an anti-Dutch movement in === [PDF page 32] === 20 1919 near the town of Garut. Like them, the kijaji has been a moral, religious, and social leader throughout most of his life. During the 1930's, he served as a member of the Central Council of PSII (Partai Syarekat Islam Indonesia), then a popular Islamic party. During the Indonesian revolution, he led his own private army against the Dutch, and defended the community against the Darul Islam rebellion. Toward the end of the Sukarno era, he became a member of the National Assembly, as a representative of the West Java Province. On September 30, 1965, the night of the abortive Communist coup in Jakarta, his followers rounded up local Communists before the police learned of the event in Jakarta that night. The kijaji hab withdrawn himself from national and local party politics since the Indonesian Independence as he foresaw the destructiveness of party politics in the newly established Republic. But he is still considered to be the most influential figure of the region. His major activities consist of giving regular pengajian lectures on Thusdays at his madrasah. During the o^f-agricultural seasons, his pengajians attract audiences numbering as many as several thousands. His weekly pengajians are broadcasted twice a week from the local radio station. The kijaji, however, did not engage in pesantren teaching, which posed a problem for me. Neither did the semi urbanized background of the town of Wanaraja fit my original research design. An alternative solution to the problem was to live with his sisters in a village about three kilometers to the northeast of the town, from which he originated and where his two nephews practice religious teaching at the family's traditional pesantren. My plan was to first collect data related to the local ulama in an orthodox Islamic village, and then later to move on to the subject of the kijaji himself. In this way I had access to materials concerning both the local ulama and the === [PDF page 33] === 21 kijaji operating in different arenas. It also seemed an ideal arrangement, as it would allow me to see the whole network of influence, the structure of authority through different levels of the local community, as well as the Islamic group's relationship with the outside systems. I moved to the house of a leading ulama in the village around the middle of September. The village of Cipari (see Figure 2) is located where the sloping mountain skirts of Mt. Telagabodas to the southeast and Mt. Sedakeling to the northeast merge into the plain. Here the mildly terraced rice fields stretch along the way to the lower plateau of the River Cimanuk. Unlike large Javanese villages, Sundanese villages in highland West Java are small and scattered among the terraced rice fields, separated from each other only by rivers, fish ponds, and rice fields. The village of Cipari is located only half a kilometer off the main road that connects Garut with Sukawening to the east and with Cibatu to the north. Coming to the village from this road, one passes three clusters of hamlets, Cihuni, Ciglede and Cidewa. All these villages are geneologically related with Cipari and have exchanged daughters for at least two centuries. Even today male members of the villages attend the mosque in Cipari for their five daily prayers. The altitude of the village Cipari is 703 meters above sea level, about nine meters lower than the main road. The dirt road, originally constructed by the kijaji and his family in the forties, leads into the village from its southwestern entrance. The village (see Figure 3) is more or less closed except to the next village of Pingirsari, to the north. Other than that the village is well bounded. The western boundary is marked by the River Cibeuream which enters the outskirts of the village from the southeast and leaves to the northwest. On the south side, a sloping stretch of the rice fields comes all the way === [PDF page 34] === FIGURE 2 M A P O F A R E A: DESACITANGTU === [PDF page 35] === 23 e^nce field si) fish pond GRAVE YARD 0> garden FIGURE 3 MAP OF V I L L A G E CIPARI === [PDF page 36] === 24 down to the village boundary, and the eastern end of the village is marked by two huge fish ponds and the village graveyard. Any visitor to the village would immediately recognize the village as a fervent Islamic community. An enormous mosque-madrasah building stands at the middle of the village, surrounded by houses of the major religious functionaries. The tower of the mosque soars 25 meters from the ground and bears an Islamic star and moon emblem at its top. Before the Indonesian Independence, the village served as the center of both Islamic education and politics. Such notables as the head of PSII, Tjokroaminoto, used to visit the village. Later on, the ill-fated leader of the Darul Islam rebellion, Kartosuwirjo, was a regular guest of the village before he launched the movement. The significance of the village as an Islamic political center during the thirties and forties is still remembered by many people, including the presently active leaders of the Islamic parties. Many Islamic politicians in need of votes and endorsement of the kijaji come to pay the^r respects to the village. All the houses of the village are neatly arranged in such a way that women at home easily find their direction of prayers. The villagers view the western section of the village as superior—formal and austere. It is the place where a large pesantren was located before it was burned down by the DI insurgents in 1952. Most of the section still belongs to the ulamas' family. Today Cipari is known for its highly progressive Islamic educational institutions. A modern, two-storied, L-shaped brick building is located at the place where the old dormitories and the pesantren used to be. The school building is used for SPIAIN (Sekolah Persiapan Institute Agama Islam Negeri, the preparatory school for the National Islamic Institute), one of the two schools found in the district of Garut. It is also used for a private === [PDF page 37] === 25 Islamic secondary school, Tsanawiyah, in the afternoon as well as for the public primary school in the morning. In front of the school building is an open square, used as a playground as well as the community's gathering place at formal ceremonies. By the time I left the village, they v/ere adding another impressive building right behind the school building to the north. When it is completed, the building will accommodate high school girls who come from outside the village. At the time santri students were living in the attic of the madrasah or were housed by village families for a small fee. According to the older members of the village, the eastern section which is crowded now with tiny houses is only a recent development. Around the turn of the last century the place was covered by bamboo forests in which only a few houses were found. The presently crowded condition is an outcome of the population increase since the turn of the century. Most residents are remotely related to the ulamas' family. There is one small local general store. If a villager needs to purchase clothes or some specialized items, he must go to Cihum right by the main road, but most daily household goods can be obtained from the village store. In most villages there is at least one such store, and although storekeepers do not make any more than 5 to 10 percent profit, they can make as much as 3,000 rupiah (about $8) a month, a substantial income for a villager. There are two candy and sweets shops. Despite the modern educational institution and an influx of students coming and going every day and dominating the village scene, the villagers carry on with their own business in their traditional manner, undisturbed by the coexisting institutions. All the school teachers, santri students, and villagers come together for five daily prayers in the same mosque, join === [PDF page 38] === 26 in pengajian lessons at night, and hold Cho'bah Friday sermons and prayer meetings together. The mosque-madrasah building was built by the kijaji, his family and the community in 1934 shortly after the death of the kijaji's father. Then a young and ambitious ulama attempted to build a library and Islamic institute near Bakanloa along the main road, but the plan had to be halted when the Dutch interfered with the project by employing a group of Christian Ambonese soldiers of the Dutch Army. The fund reserved for the project was then used to build this mosque-madrasah building. The mosque means a lot to the local community. During the revolution and the DI rebellion it saved many villagers and refugees from terrorist attacks. Even when everything else was burned down, it stood intact. Today it is a regular custom for every returning seasonal migrant to climb the tower of the mosque and meditate for a while as soon as he arrives at the village. The building is divided into two sections: the western end is used as a mosque, and the eastern end as a madrasah for the santri and for the villagers to attend pengajian lectures. The upstairs of the mosque furnishes places for the santri to sleep and study. Female santri students live in a house of a junior ulama, right above the local general store. Right beside the mosque is a beduk (a huge drum made out of a hollow tree trunk) which is beaten five times daily to announce the time for prayers, and right below the drum is a coffin carrier, as the ulama say, to remind every Muslem of his fate. B. Field Work and Method I spent most of the first month visiting pesantren around the village and sometimes making trips as far as Singaparna and Tasikmalaya. The purpose of the excursions was twofold: The primary purpose was to visit other kijaji and the ulama, obtain information about their background and social networks, and study the system of pesantren and pengajian programs. The second but === [PDF page 39] === 27 more immediate reason was to give some time for the ulama, the villagers, and myself to get used to each other while accomplishing something fruitful at the same time. At first the local ulama seemed cautious and apprehensive about the goal of my research, though they showed me the best of their hospitality. The villagers, on the other hand, remained friendly but aloof, since I lived with the most powerful figure of the village and they feared offending the person by getting close to me. I was accompanied by one of the ulama or by members of the family wherever I went. Consequently, the family ended up standing between me and the villagers. It was a classic example of the ulama's role as a mediator: the ulama attempted to shield me from unpleasant encounters with the villagers, while at the same time screening me from obtaining embarrassing details concerning the village. On my part, I had no choice but to respect the ulama's authority and wait until I could establish my credibility in the eyes of the ulama. After a short while, a rather unfortunate incident helped break the wall between me, an unfamiliar foreign researcher, and the hosting community represented by the ulama. The incident centered around the old jeep which I had purchased to assist in the distant excursions to remote villages and pesantren with several members of the ulamas' family who never failed to accompany me on those occasions for security purposes. The driver, who kept the jeep with him, was one of the kijaji's younger sons. The ulamas' family had discovered within a week or so that the driver was using the jeep at night as public transportation for the driver's profit, but, out of embarrassment, kept the secret from me and attempted to solve the problem without confronting the kijaji's son with the reported facts. Meanwhile, being ignorant of what was going on, I had no reason to fire him. === [PDF page 40] === 28 Failing in their attempt, the ulama finally conceded to telling me the full story. They felt more urgently a need to restore the family's name before the community and preserve their moral authority than their hope of saving themselves before me. The whole operation to rescue the jeep away from the driver was carefully planned and meticulously executed. To conform to this scheme, I was assigned a leading role in pretending to fall sick and then to bring the jeep back to the city out of sight. Ironically, sharing in their secret plan, and taking an active part in it, seemed to have established for the first time a solid ground between the ulama and me where I was finally granted mutual trust and respect. The month of October was the Islamic fasting month when people share good will among their neighbors. The ulama invited male villagers every evening for sweets before their supper and through these informal occasions I began to associate with the villagers. Also during that month many people suffered from malnutrition and stomach ailments and I found myself in a position of treating the patients, giving advice, and providing vitamin pills. Although I must admit that my relationship with the villagers never became personal, some of the barriers that stood between us seemed to have been alleviated during this month. It was fortunate that the Ramadan month came at the earliest stage of my research period in the village. Lebaran, the celebration of the end of the fasting month, came in early November. Shortly afterward the rainy season began and everyone became busy working in the fields, and my conspicuous presence in the village was largely ignored and forgotten. For the first time I could concentrate on the basic data collecting phase of my work. The research schedule was made up of five steps: (1) gathering basic data about the village, (2) ascertaining the ulamas' role and their === [PDF page 41] === 29 interactions with the villagers and their belief system through interviews, (3) investigating the villagers' belief system and their view of the ulama, (4) observing the kijaji's charismatic behavior and its effect on his followers, and (5) relating it to the agents of the encompassing institutions represented in the local community. For the first half of the year, research methods took two forms, participant-observation and informal interviews. Such data as village social structure, the kinship system, marriage practices, subsistence activities, and the history of the community were collected through informal conversations with the ulama, local teachers, and the older members of the village. Among all the informants, the ulama with whom I stayed for the year turned out to be the most helpful and insightful assistant. To my great surprise, this ulama was a brilliant woman who held supreme authority in the village. Nobody called her ulama, but for all intents and purposes, she functioned as one. With her authority, she not only arranged meetings with the necessary individuals for interviews, but her house also provided a perfect place for informal data collecting. The front part of the house was used by the teachers who lived outside the village and commuted to the village school every day. They rested in the room, changed their clothes for prayers before going to mosque, and sometimes while waiting for the next lesson to teach, they chatted with the ulama and me over a cup of tea and sweets. I also took advantage of another valuable and informal but regular opportunity to observe and interact with my informants: when the family, the youth, and neighbors gathered at the ulama's hall waiting for the day's final prayer around eight in the evening. Since it was the most relaxed time of the day for everyone, I seldom took notes, but observed peoples' reactions, listened to them, asked questions, and discussed issues at hand. === [PDF page 42] === 30 On other occasions, I was an outside observer. Living in the house of the ulama provided me with ample opportunities to observe the relationships and interactions of the local ulama with the villagers as well as the visitors from outside the village. Any problem relating to the village affairs was handled by the ulama, including funerals, family disputes, and neighborhood quarrels. Births and deaths among the villagers were surely attended by the ulama whom I closely followed. I also observed how the ulama proceeded with the family projects and mobilized the villagers. Besides all these unexpected happenings in the house, there were also two regular formal occasions: nightly pengajian meetings and Tuesday weekly pengajians. Sometimes the ulama gave lectures at various places outside the village and those times gave me chances to compare the pattern of her behavior in the village with that outside the realm of her immediate authority. Formal interviews with the villagers did not take place until much later. Such questions as family structures, sources of income, folk medicine, their involvement during the DI insurgency, and a list of questions about their belief system, were intended to obtain statistical data and general concepts about the ulama and the villagers' world views. The villagers were notified of my visit only ten minutes in advance, and each session lasted as long as one and a half hours, sometimes running as long as three hours. I used the local Sundanese language since most villagers did not understand Indonesian, but a friend of mine, a local school teacher, helped me as an intermediary to ease their tension and interpret my questions whenever necessary. Sometimes the local ulama came along but on these occasions, the interviewer found it hard to obtain honest answers as villagers were inhibited by the ulama's presence. By the time I completed the research, I had interviewed all of the === [PDF page 43] === 31 53 households, except for a few of the mentally disturbed. After interviews with the ulama and the villagers, I finally began to work on the subject of the kijaji, with whom I had been well acquainted by then through attending his pengajian lectures, visiting him with the ulama periodically, and talking with him in informal situations. Although these informal encounters with the kijaji never failed to reveal his personality, religious insights, and ideas about his role in the community, it was necessary to make a special effort to comprehend the full range of his charisma and his world view in a systematic fashion. I used three methods to approach these problems: (1) lecture analysis of his pengajian, (2) close observation by accompanying him in his activities, and (3) formal interviews. Pengajian lecture meetings turned out to be the most fruitful occasions on which I could observe the interactions between the kijaji and the followers. It was during these occasions that one could see qualities of the kijaji which make him charismatic, things his followers see in such charismatic leaders, and how the kijaji manipulated and created a mood that was essential to the leader-follower relationship. The content of the lectures on religious questions served to fulfill my personal curiosity and satisfaction, but it was, ironically, his opinions and agitation on nonreligious matters that the audience seemed most interested to hear and was most excited about. Nevertheless, I spent some time analyzing and understanding his lectures, often asking for help from the local ulama with the interpretations. Some of the notions I had developed about the kijaji and his followers could be confirmed or expanded by following the kijaji to other kinds of formal and informal gatherings with other kinds of groups, with other ulama who looked for his religious inspirations and guidance, with politicians who === [PDF page 44] === 32 needed the kijaji's support, with the local vendors and commoners who sought from him some humble spiritual guidance and often mystical assurance. Thus when I began to make arrangements for formal interviews with the kijaji, the kinds of questions I was interested in asking him were fairly well structured and focused, although it turned out that at many times, uniquely surprising findings came out without any planning on my part. These interviews became the most enjoyable part of the entire research, largely because the kijaji was unusually uninhibited, outspoken, straightforward, and eloquent. Being a man of great respect, he was a lonely man with very few people daring to question him directly. He seemed amused and challenged by some of my questions, but he was not in the least offended. The difference between the local village ulama and the kijaji seemed to lie in this respect: he was not defensive nor did he care about preserving his good name before me as his authority was secure and he was convinced of his beliefs. A total of 13 formal interviews took place, each time lasting for at least four hours, and sometimes running for two full days. Whenever he had visitors or at every prayer hour, he excused himself saying that his anak buah (followers) were waiting for him. During these periods, I usually talked with the members of his family who tended to be far more worldly oriented than the kijaji himself. Now that I had completed the research among the ulama and their local community, as well as with the kijaji and his followers, it was time to launch into the final task: the agents of outside institutions which included local administration, the police and the military, other government extension services (such as health clinics and the agricultural co-op), and the office of the ministry of religious affairs. I was interested in local political parties as well, but since the question involved a highly sensitive issue === [PDF page 45] === 33 that countered the government's intention for depoliticization, I was restricted to talking to some leaders only privately and informally. The purpose of this section of research was to develop proper perspectives about the Islamic group in relation to encompassing systems. With this final task completed I closed the research project. Besides all these observations, participant interactions, and formal as well as informal interviews, I also used a great number of newspapers and magazines so that I could closely follow social and religious issues on the national level and see how the local ulama and the kijaji would respond to issues of national significance. Organization of the Dissertation The first problem I faced in organizing and writing the dissertation was to decide what to do and how to organize the bulk of data on the community and villagers which seemed related to the analysis of the ulama and the kijaji indirectly. The Islamic institutions and enduring authority of the specialists could not be understood in isolation and out of empirical context; and, without doubt, the structure of the Islamic community had to Le first analyzed and presented. I was not sure, however, as to how much data on the changing rural economy, living conditions, and life cycle were necessary. I felt it justifiable, in the end, to include most of this information, not only because it would provide interested readers with an ethnography of a contemporary Indonesian village, but because it seems to shed light on the ulamas' empirical and sociological roles, which I believe to be just as much responsible for perpetuating the ulamas' authority in Islamic communities as are their roles as religious leaders. In Part Two on the subject of the institution of the village ulama, particular attention will be paid to the major theme that the institution of === [PDF page 46] === 34 the ulama cannot be understood without the ulamas' families who have been the real source of Islamic orthodoxy in rural Indonesia, rather than individual ulama, or pesantrens as Geertz observed (1960a and 1965). It has been these limited numbers of middle-class rural families specializing in producing ulama cadres that have traditionally supported Islamic pesantrens, pondoks, and madrasahs and provided them with necessary human and financial resources. Part Three will clarify structural and functional distinctions between the two types of Islamic specialists in Indonesia, the kijaji and the ulama, a distinction which has so far remained obscure in the literature. This chapter will analyze what constitutes the kijaji's charismatic personality, ability, quality, and leadership, but will pay little attention to the sociological and empirical facts about the family or the community. Given the fact that the kijaji's influence derives from his charisma rather than from sociological ties with the communities, and that they originate from the ulamas' families in the first place, I believe that this approach from the point of view of charisma is more conclusive than the institutional approach applied to the analysis of the ulama. The legitimacy of the kijaji's charismatic influence derives from the individual's qualities, and the kijaji and charisma are inseparable just as much as are the ulamas' authority and their families' traditional ties with the local communities. Finally, I had hoped to include a separate chapter on agents of modernization and encompassing systems in relation to the Islamic specialists' role. Such recent developments as the neo-Islam movement, the merger of Islamic political parties under the government pressures, or the government's attempts to embrace religious leaders under its direction will probably affect the authority and influence of Islamic specialists. But since they touch some sensitive political issues, I abstained from discussing the === [PDF page 47] === 35 subject in a separate chapter. Instead, some brief references to Islamic organizations and recent developments will be made in the chapter discussing the ulamas' role in relation to the outside systems. I will also make some suggestions as to their prospect for the future, particularly on the issue of the community-nation relationship in the concluding chapter. D. Relevance This dissertation will analyze the mechanisms through which traditional Islamic specialists have preserved their institution and power. I believe that their creative role adaptation to the needs and expectations of local communities, the empirical and sociological strategies taken by them, and finally the structure of local cultural systems, are major answers to the question of their continuity. These findings are based on statistical and historical data as well as my own observations and interviews with some of the specialists. But since the dissertation is based on intensive ethnographic studies of only a limited number of the ulama and the kijaji in a specific community, it is necessary for me to discuss the relevance of the data to other ulama and regions briefly before we move on to the content of the ethnography. All the Tslamic specialists more or less face the same kinds of problems --the problems related to the institutional maintenance and preservation of their status quo against various forms of challenging forces for change from within and without the family and the community. Many well-known and unknown pesantrens and ulamas' families have failed to survive over the years. The fact that the particular family I studied in the village of Cipari has managed to preserve its institutions and authority over a century, however, automatically distinguishes it from those which have disintegrated and === [PDF page 48] === 36 disappeared. This case study, therefore, should not be taken to be a typical case, but rather one that illuminates the varied predicaments they have faced and some of the necessary strategies adopted by them tr maintain Islamic leadership and institutions in Priangan. Attempts to compare this particular case with others were made so that we could verify the points brought forth in this dissertation and generalize the phenomena from anthropological perspectives. I Interviewed other successful ulamas' families in Sukabumi, Bandung, Sumedang, and Tasik, and I checked reasons for those which failed. However, I also found vast differences from one ulama to another and from one region to another with respect to such questions as the extent of their authority, scale of influence, and the manner in which they were practiced. Some ulama were young intellectuals but commanded little influence as leaders; some were old, paternalistic, and wealthy but unable to exercise effective leadership; and still others were scholarly and effective leaders with the potential to become kijaji. There were differences as well in their orientations toward the outside world and modernization in general. These differences, however, can be explained and understood in terms of structural, rather than individual, attributes such as: kinship, historical and economic factors, and institutional commitments; whether they have succeeded in their family's traditional pesantren/pondok/madrasah institutions; whether they were "invited" ulama who had moved to new locations upon invitation from communities and wealthy members of the locality; or whether they were sons-in-law of established ulamas' families, or "emerging" first-generation urban ulama, or religious bureaucrats. We can still depict structural patternings with such variables in mind. To Illustrate examples of the ulamas' interactional patterns with local communities and the agents of outside systems, some actual events and instances cited 1n the dissertation were specifically drawn from the data on Cipari, and readers are advised not to regard them as typical phenomena among ulama === [PDF page 49] === 37 general. These cases, however, were chosen precisely because they seemed best to reveal, rather than to distort, particular families' conceptions of their structural and functional roles 1n the nation-community relationships and their aspirations for realizing Islamic Ideals out of their followers—the conceptions which by themselves are general and typical to most ulama, regardless of differences 1n their authority and institutional commitments. A final note of warning must be added. I expect that the readers will find my often contradictory feelings toward these Islamic functionaries inconsistent and uncomfortable. While I admire their courage and dedication, I was also appalled by their manipulative and exploitative domination. Agitation could easily be directed against them, as the pre-coup Communists did. I feel, however, that the problem cannot be dealt with from such a simplistic viewpoint, for both the ulama and the villagers seem to maintain interests in the present system at least temporarily but for different reasons. If one agrees with Wolf (1969) that the peasantry is basically anarchistic, no local leader can take the villagers for granted for a long period of time and expect his position to remain secure. The villagers' interests in the ulamas' services are both pragmatic and spiritual, and the ulama must meet these expectations in order to remain in their privileged positions. Thus an exploitative aspect is found in both the leader and the followers making the whole exploitation issue meaningless. Such a sensitive group relationship can be interpreted differently depending upon the interest of the observer. I will, however, present what I saw, heard and felt, as inconsistent as it may seem, and leave the readers to reach their own conclusions. === [PDF page 50] === PART ONE Chapter I THE ISLAMIC VILLAGE AND THE ULAMA Social scientists, however, as opposed to orientalists, have tended to disregard the unifying aspect of classicial Islam and have concentrated upon the particular variety of Islam practiced in a particular place or that practiced by a particular group of people. Perhaps the only social area where both "unity" and "variety" are brought close enough for examination by the social scientists is in the study of the organization, the social and political role, and the ideology of the recognized learned man of Islam: the alim, ' mullah, akhund, or kijaji. (Binder 1960:1250) The ulama are a group of Islamic legal scholars, who have traditionally functioned as the preachers, teachers, and counselors of Islamic communities and the Caliphate. Theoretically their duties as Islamic experts have been to ensure the orthodoxy of the Muslem followers' religious practices and the affairs of the Islamic State according to Islamic Cannon Law. In the local communities their domain of authority has been confined to the Islamic institutions of mosque and madrasah, in which they have served as religious functionaries. In the history of Islamic civilization in many parts of the world, however, the ulama have often emerged as leaders of social and political reform movements (Algar 1969, Baer 1971, Yalman 1973:139-168). The tendency of the ulama to assume social roles at times of political and social crisis in Islamic countries has derived first from the fact that the ulama have historically regarded themselves as the focal point of the Islamic moral conscience, and second, from the fact that they served at the mosque and madrasah institutions where Muslem followers congregated regularly. the ulama also gathered to discuss matters which have concerned the 38 There === [PDF page 51] === 39 community, ummat, and the faith. The characteristically holistic nature of the ulamas' functions and authority in the Islamic communities of Indonesia has been particular to the Indonesian context, and enhanced by the cohesive social structui'e of the Islamic communities. This nature has been directly influenced by: (a) the pattern in which Islam has spread into Java's interior, and (b) the ways the ulama have maintained the tradition of their autonomous authority in such communities. Drews asserts that the enclaves of Islamic communities in the archipelago began to emerge toward the end of the thirteenth century (1968: 443), but the significant advance of Islam began only after the coming of the Muslem traders from India around 1400 (Schrieke 1960:25) when Muslem cities such as Demak, Djapara, Tuban, and Surabaya emerged along the northern coasts of Java. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries sultanates were created in the Moluccas and Macassar in the Celebes. In West Java two sultanates were established at Banten in 1520 (Kartodirdjo 1966:32) and at Cirebon in 1527 with the help of Demak (Schrieke 1960:32). The Islamization process of Indonesia has been structurally shaped by three interlocking groups and institutions: the sultanates with their maritime economic power along Java's coasts v/ho fought and subjugated interior kingdoms; a group of foreign Muslem scholars who fulfilled the bureaucratic and ritual posts within the sultanates; and finally the sufi mystical teachers who, beginning around 1600, moved from the coasts to Java's interior and missioned there through the deliberate syncretism of their teachings with the native ones, curing the sick with magical power, and converting Hindu-Buddhist hermitages and monasteries to rural Muslem schools (Johns 1961:10-23 and Drews 1955:298). === [PDF page 52] === 40 Within three and a half centuries of Islamization, which coincided with the Dutch colonization of Indonesia, the rural ulama in West Java established solid ground upon which to establish Islamic institutions of the ulamate and the tradition of their authority in Muslem communities. Some of the early ulama consisted of converted younger sons of local rajas, who after the fall of Pajajaran Sundanese's kingdom maintained semi-independent parochial authority in the mountainous regions, while nominally under Dutch colonial authority. Some others were sons of the penghulu ("the title given by the Dutch government to the highest-ranking mosque official--a somewhat marginal officer in the colonial bureaucracy--at the regency, district or sub-district level, who was responsible for the administration of marriage and divorce regulations and for giving advice to those who requested it on other aspects of the Muslem law, such as inheritance..." Geertz 1960b: 132)who were originally sent from Banten. The spread of Islam in Priangan has also been helped by the polygamous practices among the ulama and the matrilocal post-marital residence practices among the local population. When the sons of the ulama returned from years of education at the various pesantrens in Java, they married and moved to their wives' villages. As the prestigious ulama traveled missioning remote villages, they often had more than one wife at different villages, where they regularly gave religious lectures at the request of the local rich families. When the ulamas' family had more than one son, elder sons tended to move out while the younger ones remained in the village and continued the family's traditional institution. Whenever they moved to establish new Islamic villages and educational institutions, the missioning ulama have enjoyed high respect and have held sufficient authority to shape the moral communities and to maintain their own === [PDF page 53] === 41 autonomy as distinct from the secular encompassing power, represented by the Bupati (the highest obtainable government office by the indigenous population during the colonial period). In the process of their adaptation to the local environment, the ulama have mobilized various indigenous practices and applied some censorship against counter influences. The village boundaries, for example, have been clearly defined, membership to the community has been carefully screened, and the village has been occupied by genealogically related kinsmen. The village property has been kept intact in the hands of the ulamas' family who have traditionally monopolized the leadership and the institution of the ulamate. In this way the religious and ritual superiority of the ulamas' families have been ensured by the fact of their economic and genealogical superiority, while the communities have maintained homogeneous unity. Since the time the ulamate was institutionalized, the ulama have made these creative adaptations to the local and indigenous social structure in order to continue the family's leadership and authority. The cohesive unity and autonomous authority of the ulama in present-day Islamic communities have been the direct results of their forefathers' intent to maintain this comprehensive unity and the normative structure representative of the Islamic ideal of "a state within the State." The village of Cipari is one of several such communities found in the region. In this chapter we will look into the social organization of an Islamic community and show that despite the community's adherence to the Islamic faith, much of the ulamas' relationship with the village and their authority are imbedded in the local and indigenous social structure in which they have traditionally occupied structurally superior ritual, genealogical, and political positions. === [PDF page 54] === 42 A. The Village Founder and the Residents The village of Cipari was founded by a man called Zainal Abidin around the middle of the eighteenth century. He is commonly referred to as Embah Bungsu (the youngest great grandfather), because he was the youngest of four sons of a local raja called Ayan Permana Prabu Kuncung Putih whose court was located on a hillside of Mt. Bongkok, a part of the Sedakeling mountain range to the north of Cipari. According to local folklore, all of the raja's sons but one became prijaji (the native elite who took administrative positions). His eldest son, Ariya Bandayuda, became Dal em (the next rank to Bupati, the regent) in Limbangan, then the capital of Garut. His second son, Sutankate, became another Dal em in Cikundul in the district of Cianjur (west of Bandung). His third son, Raden Seriyadi, became Patinggi (vice-Bupati) in Sadalarang (in Cinunuk, north of Wanaraja). However, he later resisted the Dutch and died in a prison in Batavia, the present-day Jakarta. The ulamas' family in Cipari believes that the spirit of political radicalism of the family in this century originated from this great granduncle. As mentioned above, the village founder, Zainal Abidin, was the fourth son of the raja. Unlike his elder brothers, he acquired an Islamic education, descended from the hillside in the early eighteenth century, married a local woman named Miah and moved to the agriculturally more productive lower plain. He changed his name to an Arabic one, and prohibited his descendants from using such noble titles as raden or raden mas. He taught at a local madrasah but had no pesantren. Zainal Abidin had three sons and a daughter (see Figure 4 ). Two elder sons moved out of the village to open their own respective pesantren, but the youngest son, Haji Samsudin, and the only daughter, Esti, remained in the village. Since Esti suffered from a birth defect and never married, the === [PDF page 55] === Jii INOM5 ACIM MCUPI 7l~rTTTTW III H*s**C2£3 £EH?S FIGURE 4 KINSHIP TIES === [PDF page 56] === 44 majority of present-day village residents are descendants of Haji Samsudin. He had a total of four wives and thirteen offspring, consisting of seven sons and six daughters. The most prominent of all his sons were his eldest and his youngest. Hasan, the eldest, was born of his first wife (who inherited a large property from her mother), and he industriously converted the dry land and opened the village of Cipari Babakan. His youngest son, Harumaen, became the most influential kijaji of the region in the early part of this century. Harumaen is the father of the presently active ulama in the village and the kijaji in Wanaraja. Today a total of 47 asli native families (of whom at least one senior parent was born and raised in the village), along with eight non-asli families, are in the village. Of the 47 asli families 38 are descendants of the village founder, and the remaining nine are believed to be related to the village founder; however except for the two families whose great grandfather was Samsudin's brother-in-law, their actual ties are not known. Among the non-natives, there are two categories. Three families, Nos. 8, 12 and 14, belong to the first category commonly referred to as pindahan, those who have moved into the village from other villages by purchasing village agricultural land and converting part of the land into their living quarters. The remaining five families are pangongsi, refugees from the village of Sindangheula. Originally the families moved to the village during the Darul Islam rebellion, and the men joined the kijaji's private army when he himself was a refugee after the town of Wanaraja was burned down in the early period of the revolution by a group of local fanatic nationalists. When security was restored in the region, however, the refugees were allowed to remain in the village since in Sindangheula tnere was no Islamic institution or ulama. None of the pangongsi, Nos. 2, 25, 26, 38 and 41, owns land in === [PDF page 57] === 45 Cipari but a number of them own land in their home village to which they commute regularly to tend their rice fields. Some of these families have asked the ulama to sell them the land on which their houses are built, but the ulamas' family refuse to sell it for the reason that it is their ancestral land and must be kept by the family for its future use in the family's religious programs. The pindahan families are very marginal to the village life since their houses are located at the outskirts of the village; the pangongsi are careful not to offend the ulama so as to secure their families' continuing residence in the village. The train!ional ulamas' authority in the village has remained intact, surrounaed by remaining members of a cognatic descent group of the village founder and the socially and numerically marginal pangongsi and pindahan outsiders. The ulama's status quo as the village leader has also been helped by the fact that the present ulama occupies a genealogically superior position as sepuh, the wise elder, to the rest of the asli members. To understand the role and the concept of the sepuh, we must now turn to the principle of the Sundanese kinship system and social organization. B. The Kinship System and Status Differentiation The Sundanese kinship system is bilateral and their system of kinship terms belongs to a bifurcate merging category. Significant distinctions are made according to the generational principle on ego's generation and his two descending and ascending generations and according to the relative seniority of connecting parents and grandparents on ego's immediately ascending and descending generations. Figure 5 shows collateral classifiers, and Figure 6 shows generational classifiers. Ego finds proper kinship terms by which to address contemporary kinsmen after combining these vertical generational and === [PDF page 58] === 46 00 00 10 00 00 00 MISAN OR SABRAINA 00 EGO 00 00 00 00 FIGURE 5 COLLATERAL CLASSIFIERS KAICIUR UDEG2 JAGAWAREN BAO BUYUT A K1/ENE PAMAN/B1B1 R A I / A D E EGO RAKA/LANCUK ALO SUWAN 1 NCU BUYUT BAO. JAGAWAREN UDEG2 KAICIUR FIGURE 6 GENERATIONAL CLASSIFIERS === [PDF page 59] === 47 horizontal seniority classifiers (see Figure 7 ). Beyond ego's grandparents and grandchildren, seniority distinctions of connecting parents are no longer made, and beyond ego's great grandparents and great grandchildren (three generations ascending and three generations descending) the same generational terms are applied. Since the Sundanese cognatic kindred extend as far as first cousins, precise kinship terms are designated for collaterals in ego's generation and his most immediately ascending and descending generations. Ego's ascending generational collaterals, uncles and aunts, are referred to as kolot or sepuh (older generation); whereas ego's immediately descending generational collaterals are classified as keponakan (nephews and nieces). But these terms are used only in the third person, and when they meet in person, they must address one another with proper kinship terms depending upon both generational and relative seniority distinctions. For example, ego's parents' elder siblings are addressed as ua_ regardless of sex differences, whereas ego's parents' younger siblings are called bibi for aunts, and pamang for uncles. In ego's generation, elder siblings are termed raka or lancuk, and are addressed akan for male siblings and teteh or ceu for female siblings; younger siblings are referred to as ade and rai. As for cousins, distinctions are made according to relative seniority of connecting parents: ua's offspring are referred to as raka misan ("elder" cousins, ego's parent's elder siblings' offspring) and ade misan ("younger" cousins, ego's parent's younger siblings' offspring). Similarly, among the keponakan (nephews and nieces), ego's elder siblings' offspring are distinguished from ego's younger siblings' offspring, alp and suwan, respectively; and cousins' offspring are also distinguished depending upon the relative seniority of the connecting === [PDF page 60] === LMiffi === [PDF page 61] === 49 grandparents, alo misan and suwan misan, respective to raka misan's and ade misan's offspring. Ego must differentiate his behavior patterns, manners, respect forms and language levels according to the kinship relationships and status differences. For example, ego must use similar or more respectful forms to ua_ (parents' elder siblings) than to his own parents; but, on the other hand, with paman and bibi (parents' younger siblings), ego can engage in more casual, intimate, and confiding relationships than with his parents or his ua_. Though seniority differences are also made among collaterals of his generation, the general classifier soderek or dulur, siblings, implies congenial and reciprocal relationships. When we apply this system of kinship terms and status differentiation to the 38 genealogically related descendants of Zainal Abidin (refer to the kinship diagram, Figure 4, p. 43), one can see that the three sisters who head the ulamas' families, Nos. 1, 11 and 20, occupy kolot or sepuh superior positions within the village founder's descent group. They refer to themselves as kolot with a humble sense of old generation, whereas the rest of the families in the village refer to them with respect as sepuh. Nos. 19 and 34 also occupy the same genealogical position as the above-mentioned three sisters, and practice their leadership role within their segmented descent groups. But, in the community-at-large, they are nevertheless regarded as being under the ulamas' authority due to their lack of religious and ritual statuses. C. Marriage, Residence and Mobility A cohesive village unity and the maintenance of village social structure can stand against counterinfluences when the recruitment of its prospective members is fairly well controlled and the outside influences to the community === [PDF page 62] === 50 can be kept at minimum levels. Various local cultural and economic factors have traditionally limited the scope of prospective marriage partners and thereby functioned to preserve the village's homogeneity. The ulamas' families have exploited marriages of their family members so as to suit their own institutional aims, but they seldom interfere with those of other members of the community. Nevertheless, village endogamy is common and the ulamas' effective authority as village socioreligious leaders has depended upon this high rate of endogamous marriage among the residents and the limited influx of outsiders into the village. In this section I will examine the local marriage practices and the consequent mobility of its residents. Among the Priangan Sundanese, the most preferred form of marriage is between cousins, whereas their desired choice of postman'tal residence is matrilocal. In practice, however, the question is a matter of choice more than of rule. We will first look into the question of the discrepancy and see some of the significant factors involved in their marriage and postmarital residence practices. The data used in this section covers both Cipari and Cipari Babakan among Hasan's descendants. 1. Endogamous Marriage Endogamous marriage among consanguinial kinsmen is preferred. The villagers say that they prefer kinsmen to non-kinsmen for their prospective in-laws because "little conflict of interest is likely to occur", but more specific and often pragmatic considerations are taken into account in their choice of spouses. I recorded a total of 102 endogamous cases among the traceable Zainal Abidin's descendants from both villages. Out of these a significant majority of 53 cases were between c o u s m s — 2 8 first cousins, 15 second-cousins, another nine third cousins, and a single incident of fifth cousins (Table 1), === [PDF page 63] === 51 Table 1 Marriages between Cousins (Shows Wife's Relation to Husband) 28 misan first cousins MZS MBS FZS FBS sabraina mindo second cousins MMZDS 6 MMBDS 3 MFZDS 1 MFBSS 1 FMZSS 1 FFZ S 1 FFBSS 2 15 sabraina mintilu third cousins MMMZDDS 1 MMMZDSS 1 MMFBSDS 2 MFFZDDS 1 MFFZDSS 1 FMMBDSS 1 FMMZDSS 2 sabraina kelima fifth cousin TBSDDSS The remaining 49 cases involve generational differences between wives and husbands. They could be classified as "cousin" marriages according to the local term, but in fact these "cousins" are once or several times removed. The highest frequency of this type took place between paman misan (wife's grandparent's younger sibling's son) and alo misan (husband's parent's elder sibling's granddaughter). Notice that much fewer marriages took place between ua misan (wife's grandparent's elder sibling's son) and suwan misan (husband's parent's younger sibling's granddaughter). (See Table 2.) === [PDF page 64] === 52 Table 2 Marriages between Cousins Once Removed (Shows Wife's Relation to Husband) paman misan MMZS MFSS MFBS FMZS FMBS FFBS paman sabraina mindo MMFZDS MFFZDS MFFBSS FMMBSS FFFZSS FFFBDS 13 ua misan MMBS 3 FMBS 2 ua sabraina mindo paman sabraina mintilu FFFBSS 1 ua sabraina mintilu MMMMZDDS 1 MMMMBSSS 1 FMFFBDDS 1 FMFFBSDS 1 MMMMZDDS FMFFBSSS But very few women narry men of their descending generations. alo misan MZSS MBDS FZSS FBDS alo sabraina mindo FFZSDS 1 FMBDDS 1 FMZDDS 1 FMZDSS 1 suwan misan FZSS 1 suwan sabraina mindo FFZDDS 2 MMZSDS 2 === [PDF page 65] === 53 Marriages with two generational differences took place only in three cases, but in all these cases it was the husband who occupied the higher generational status. (See Table 3 ). Table 3 Marriages between Cousins Twice Removed aki misan MMFBS 1 MMMBS 1 MMFZS 1 There seems to be a cultural reason why the highest frequency of endogamy takes place between cousins, why the women tend to marry cousins once removed on the ascending generation rather than descending generation, and why they prefer paman misan (grandparent's younger sibling's offspring) to ua misan (grandparent's elder sibling's offspring). The reason is to avoid conflict arising between the kinship status and affinal status differences among the in-laws due to matrilocal residence practices. For example, if a woman marries her uai misan and her husband moves into her parents' household, her husband would be superior in kinship status to either of her parents through whom she is related to her husband. According to the affinal relationship, mantu (son-in-law) must submit to his martua (parents-in-law). This is a serious problem since each must address the other with proper kinship terms. But if a daughter marries her cousin, or paman misan, or a man of her descending generation, such an awkward relationship between the in-laws could be avoided. If their concern to avoid status conflict is the primary reason for preferring paman misan for their sons-in-law to ua misan, one might expect a higher frequency of women marrying men of their descending generation === [PDF page 66] === 54 than of their ascending generation, but in practice it is the reverse. In this case, the reason is to avoid the possibility for a wife to be genealogically superior to her husband, unless the husband's inferior kinship status is counterbalanced by high social status of another kind, or the wife's parents own considerable property but have no son to look after the family and the property. (See Table 4 ) Table 4 Marriage Distribution by Generational Differences (Shows Women's Relationships to Their Husbands) Same generation Ascending generation Descending generation 53 36 13 102 On the other hand, the question as to why endogamous unions take place with a high frequency at all is related to the villagers' concern with the preservation of ancestral property. The matrilocal post-marital residence and inheritance practices have resulted in women acquiring more ancestral property than men despite Islamic Canon Law which prescribes twice as much to men as to women. Furthermore, the Sundanese avoid more than one married daughter co-residing with their parents at a time, and instead encourage elder daughters to establish a neolocal residence. This practice has caused younger female siblings to acquire more property than their elder counterparts. Endogamous unions between their offspring, therefore, have the function of preserving the ancestral property as well a as redistributing and balancing out the inherited property. Sons are entitled to twice as much as their sisters, but if they marry exogamously and must move out of the village, they usually sell their share === [PDF page 67] === 55 to their sisters. To avoid this, sons of wealthy families tend to marry endogamously and remain in the village. Among those families who are not so wealthy, however, it is daughters who are encouraged to marry endogamously by letting sons marry exogamously and move out of the village (refer to Tables 5 and 6 ). The endogamous marriages between daughters and their closely related kinsmen has the advantage of replacing outgoing sons with the family's incoming sons-in-law to take care of otherwise matrifocal families. Local inheritance practices also facilitate younger sisters acquiring more property than their elder counterparts: According to adat the major financial assistance each pewaris (heir) has received from his parents before the latters' deaths will be deducted from his or her entitled share of what is left at the time of the parents' deaths. For example, when elder sons marry, parents often assist them with the payment of a dowry. When their married elder daughter's family of procreation must move out of her parents' household for the next daughter to get married, they help her establish a neolocal residence. When their parents die, all the financial help extended to them will be deducted from their inheritance shares. Consequently, the youngest daughter who has not yet received any financial help and who has remained with her parents until their death most likely will inherit most of the tangible property left to the heirs, the house and the land. If the parents have left more than the entitled share of the youngest daughter, their elder sons and daughters may claim their share of the remaining property in cash payment from the younger female siblings who have remained in the village. If the parents have left little property, the elder siblings may receive seasonal paddy from their youngest female sibling with her. as a form of their entitled share but the property would remain === [PDF page 68] === 56 Table 5 Marriage and Mobility among the Descendants of Zainal Abidin Mobility Generat ion Marriage Stayed in the village Moved out Tc>tal Endogamy Endogamy 11 12 Exogamy 12 17 Endogamy 11 14 20 16 Exogamy 14 19 13 24 27 Endogamy 12 Exogamy 10 13 13 Endogamy 26 35 15 41 41 Exogamy 16 32 39 31 55 63 42 67 54 37 96 104 Exogamy Endogamy Exogamy Total Grand total S = sons; D = daughters This has been the traditional process in which younger female siblings have tended to acquire more parental property in the form of agriculturally productive land, whereas the elder siblings have tended to receive their inheritance in the form of financial assistance. When a younger sister's own offspring were ready to get married, however, her elder siblings would pressure her to match their offspring with hers so as to preserve the property which has remained largely intact, or to merge and restore the === [PDF page 69] === 57 Table 6 Marriage and Mobility among the Descendants of Zainal Abidin (further details) Stayed iriCipatri Generation Offspring of Endogamy Exogamy Endogamy Exogamy Z. Abidin Samsudin Abkaim Moved out Total Komarudin Sub-total 6. Madsari Komarudin Sub-total 7 11 1. Hasan 5. Jenol 7. Sewi 3. Kisa 6. Madsari Abkaim 12. Endut 4. Enti 9. Imong 14. Harumaen 7. Sewi 11. Ota 4. Enti 5. Jenol 1. Hasan 3. Kisa 9. Imong * Village endogamy between non-kinsmen. 21 29 continued. === [PDF page 70] === 58 Table 6 (continued) Stayed iri Cipari Generation Offspring of Endogamy Exogamy Endogamy Exogamy 10. Empoh (cont.) 11. Ota Moved out 14. Harumaen Abkaim Sub-total 11 14 5. Jenol 7. Sewi and more 9. Imong 10. Empoh 11. Ota 5 14 19 13 10)* 44 43 Abkaim Sub-total 1. Hasan 12. Endut 4. Enti Total 10 21 25 * Village endogamy between non-kinsmen. fragmented property, or to redistribute it among the descendants. The kinship diagram (Figure 8) showing endogamous marriages among Hasan's descendants illustrates this point. The numbers given to each offspring represent their chronological birth orders. I chose the example from Cipari Babakan for this particular case study because: (1) marriage practices among them appear in a much more exaggerated form than in Cipari due to the considerable wealth Hasan has left to his offspring, and (2) the data is much more complete than in Cipari due to the shallow genealogical === [PDF page 71] === ABKAIM KOMARUDIN SAMSUDIN Onr MUJIBA ENDUT SEfy'l :foi KISA4 UJI A=0 ENDOGAMOUS A, © EXOGAMOUS fi* MOVED OUT, I N EMF'OH HASAN IERAH1M rssrs HARUMAEN MADSAF I KULSIJJM LUKAYAO t V~£x 1 * hHAf "SA A1S fA TOHA lisw FIGURE 8 ENDOGAMOUS MARRIAGES: C I P A R I BABAKAN === [PDF page 72] === 60 depth of the family. Hasan acquired most of his property through inheritance from his mother who died at an early age. He leveled the hilly slope and converted uncultivated land into arable land and an agriculturally more productive wet rice field and fish pond. By the time of his death his wealth was such that all of his children, including daughters, could afford to make the pilgrimage to Mecca. Hasan himself married his paternal parallel cousin, and he married two of his daughters to his wife's siblings' offspring to recruit prospective sons-in-law to the role of the ulama at the pesantren he had established. These two daughters remained in the village, but two other daughters who married exogamously moved out. The most striking phenomenon is found among Hasan's grandchildren. Notice first of all how insignificant his sons are compared to his daughters Hasan's eldest son, Sarbini, became an ulama and remained in the village, but none of his offspring married his younger siblings' children, probably because they were too old for making any match with his younger siblings' children. But Toha, Hasan's youngest son, who did not become an ulama, married exogamously and moved out of the village to his wife's village, and none of his children returned to the village or married endogamously with his elder siblings' children. On the other hand, three out of the seven children of Maemuna, Hasan's eldest daughter, married her younger sibling's children. Two out of the five offspring of Lukaya, Hasan's third daughter, married her sisters' children. All five children of Hafsa, his fourth daughter, married either Maemuna's children or grandchildren. Hasan's youngest daughter Aisa had six children, out of which six married evenly with her siblings' children or grandchildren: one with Sarbini's grandchild, another with Maemuna's and Hafsa's grandchild, another with Hafsa's child, === [PDF page 73] === 61 another with Lukaya's grandchild, and still another with Lukaya's child. The fact that two of Hasan's youngest daughters,who not only married endogamously but remained in the village,had a total of eleven children, out of which ten married their maternal "cousins," shows their conscious effort to maintain close ties and to preserve their ancestral property for themselves. Thus endogamous marriages have tended to increase where the ancestral property is best preserved from fragmentation. The endogamous marriages have functioned to preserve, redistribute, and strengthen the otherwise increasingly weakening economic capability of the family. Matrilocal post-marital residence practices and a high frequency of endogamous marriage affect the degree of geographical mobility. But as endogamous marriages tend to occur with a high frequency where wealth is being kept, the economic strength of each family, and each village, also contribute to the differential degree of outward mobility. For example, under normal conditions, an exogamously married son is expected to move to his wife's village. Sons of a wealthy farmer, however, may eventually return home after a few months' ritual matrilocal residence with their in-laws, whereas sons of a poor family may continue to reside with their wives' parents or at least in their villages even after the ritual period of co-residence is over. Tables 5, 6, 7 and 8 show the correlations between types of marriages and outward mobility among the married descendants of Zainal Abidin in Cipari and Cipari Babakan. I have counted 200 descendants in Cipari, 96 men and 104 women, and another 90 people from Cipari Babakan, 37 men and 53 women. Being the economically better-off of the two, Cipari Babakan has been able to keep its 64 percent of descendants in the village in contrast to only 54 percent in Cipari. Similarly, Cipari Babakan has recorded 50 === [PDF page 74] === 62 Table 7 Marriage and Mobility among the Descendants of Hasan Mobility Generat ion Marriage Stayed in the village T01tal Moved out Endogamous 11 10 14 Exogamous Endogamous Exogamous Endogamous Exogamous Endogamous Exogamous Endogaoous 14 19 19 26 Exogamous 11 14 13 18 27 25 33 12 20 37 53 Total Total mob ility * Village endogamy between non-kinsmen. percent endogamous unions in contrast to 41 percent in Cipari. A crucial test for the village or the kindred group's economic strength can be seen in the mobility among the exogamously married sons, for they would remain in or return to their native village only if their economic capability is much better than that of their wives. In both villages about 60 percent of the women remained in the village regardless of their marriage types. While 61 percent of exogamously married men have remained in Cipari Babakan, only 30 percent have remained in Cipari (see Table 9). In both === [PDF page 75] === 63 Table 8 Marriages and Mobility Cipari Ci pari Babakan residence-mobility moved out remained 91 109 32 58 marriage patterns endogamous exogamous 82 118 45 45 Table 9 Marriage Pattern and Mobility among Men Endogamy Exogamy Cipari remained moved out 14(74%) 5(26%) 11(61%) 7(39%) Cipari Babakan remained moved out 26(63%) 15(37%) 16(30%) 39(70%) villages, however, the majority of endogamously married men have remained as expected, but still the percent is higher in Cipari Babakan. Furthermore, the significance of the economic factor influencing a different frequency of outward mobility in the two villages becomes clear when the men's mobility is compared with that of the women (Table lo). In both villages about 50 percent of exogamously married women remained. The imbalance of the population ratio between men and women in Cipari Babakan and the considerable wealth of the families seem to have kept a greater === [PDF page 76] === 64 number of exogamously married men than women there. Table 10 Marriage Pattern and Mobility among Women Endogamy Exogamy remained 35(85%) 32(50%) moved out 6(15%) 31(49%) remained 19(73%) 14(52%) moved out 6(23%) 13(48%) Cipari Cipari Babakan The examination of the number of exogamously married men remaining in the village according to each generation, as shown in Table 11, illustrates that presently a lesser number of these men remain in the village. Table 11 Fluctuation of Exogamously Married Men and Their Mobility Remained/Total no. of exogamous men In Cipari 1st generation 2nd generation 3rd generation 4th generation 5th generation 1/ 2(33%) 2/ 3(66%) 5/12(42%) 5/24(21%) 3/13(23%) In Cipari Babakan 1st generation 2nd generation 3rd Generation 4th generation 2/ 2(100%) 5/ 5(100%) 4/10( 40%) === [PDF page 77] === 65 A general increase of outward mobility over the generations can be seen when both sexes are combined (Table 12). Table 12 Percentage of Outward Mobility against Population Increase Cipari Cipari Babakan 1st generation 2nd generation 3rd generation 4th generation 2/ 3(66%) 7/ 14(50%) 18/ 50(36%) 43/ 87(49%) 2/ 7(30%) 3/ 8(38%) 19/43(44%) 8/12(66%) Total 91/200(46%) 32/90(36%) In Cipari the ratio of outward mobility against population increase has been relatively stable at about 50 percent, whereas in Cipari Babakan it has increased considerably in recent generations. Traditionally, there have been two patterns of people moving out of their home village: one resulting from village exogamy where a person moves to his or her spouse's village, and the other with an intention to migrate to a place entirely new for both husband and wife (Table 13). The major part of rural outward mobility belongs to the first category: Out of 123 descendants of Abidin in Cipari and Cipari Babakan, 75 (61%) individuals settled in their spouses' places of residence. Consequently, the distance of their mobility has been rather limited: two-thirds are within the same district, and the remaining one-third are outside the district. Only 48 cases moved to entirely new locations. In these cases, however, the distance from their home villages is greater than that of those who moved to their spouses' villages. === [PDF page 78] === 66 Table 13 Outward Mobility and Its Destination Cipari among women moved to spouse s vill age endogamy 15 exogamy Total 17 new location among men endogamy exogamy Total 22 14 Cipari Babakan among women moved to spouse' s vill age endogamy exogamy Total new location among men endogamy exogamy Total * Distance: A = within the same district B = within the same province C = outside the province === [PDF page 79] === 67 The latter type of change of residence tends to take place in one of the following three ways: (1) The new location is not entirely a strange place for either or both spouses. Often they have inherited property near the new location from which either of their parents originated. (2) They purchase some property and they decide to become pindahan newcomers of the village. (3) They own no agricultural land and decide to move to cities where economic opportunities are available; or, they have a considerable amount of property in the village but decide to sell it to their kinsmen and move to more promising frontier land in Sumatra. In recent years the number of people moving out of the village for the last reason has increased. In contrast to the relatively high outward mobility, particularly among men, inward mobility for the outsiders who wish to move into the village is extremely limited. In such a community as Cipari where the ulamas' family has traditionally owned most of the village land, the only means through which outsiders can acquire membership in the village is by marrying into the village families. The limited extent of inward mobility is fairly well controlled ty two counterforces operating to balance out such opportunities: the matrilocal post-marital residence practice brings in-laws into the village, whereas the high endogamous frequency functions to exclude them. Table 14 shows an increase of outsiders coming into the village over the generations, but it does not compare the number of affinal adult relatives at any specific time, because several generations may overlap at any time in the past history. In Cipari it appears that one-third of the total adult population has consistently been made up of outsiders who have married into the village. === [PDF page 80] === 68 Table 14 The Influx of Outsiders through Marriage The number of affinal adult relatives in the village Men Women unknown 14 32 16 12 10 25 24 58 Cipari 1st generation 2nd generation 3rd generation 4th generation 5th generation Total 32 44 25 109 Cipari Babakan 1st generation 2nd generation 3rd generation 4th generation Total In Cipari Babakan the ratio is even smaller due to the community's higher frequency of endogamous marriages. If one compares the total number of outsiders coming into the village with that of villagers moving out of the village (refer to Table 12, p.65), the outsiders replaced just about half of the outgoing population in Cipari, but about two-thirds in Cipari Babakan. The relatively small number of unrelated outsiders in a village dominated by one huge descent group like Cipari would usually find its position weak and awkward. The Sundanese families tend to be matrifocal: mothers, daughters, and their sisters and aunts dominate the social scene, whereas fathers, husbands, sons, and sons-in-law have moved into families, or are in the process of moving out. In the case of endogamously married === [PDF page 81] === 69 men their kinsmen are their affines and they own some property near the village. In the case of sons-in-law, they are not only total strangers but also their economic positions are weaker than the endogamously married men, particularly in recent years, as the result of population expansion and the inflation of land prices. Thus although matrilocal practices have functioned as a means to recruit new members to the village, the high frequency of endogamous marriage and the presence of a dominant descent group have weakened the extent of outside influences brought by these newcomers and have helped to maintain the relatively homogeneous village culture. D. Social Organization: Cognatic Kindred and Ambilineal Descent Groups In the previous sections I have shown that the ulamas' family occupies a genealogically superior sepuh position among the descendants of the village founder. The local matrilocal endogamous practices, which have limited recruitment of outsiders into the village community through marriage, have contributed to maintaining the relative homogeneity of village life and social structure. practice of authority. It has thus helped the ulamas' effective In this section I will show patterns of kindred and descent group formations and family structures, and discuss how the traditional patterns of social organization as well as the changes in the recent economy have accelerated the segmenting tendencies of village social organization and weakened its corporate characteristics. As the result of the villagers' need for strong leadership, their reliance upon the sepuh, the ulama, has increased, A Sundanese villager traces his descent through both of his parents, and he is affiliated with a set of cognatic kindred groups with which he === [PDF page 82] === 70 maintains kinship ties. Domestically, however, he is a member of a local ambilineal descent group, which although lacking corporate characteristics deriving from common ownership of ancestral land, nevertheless functions as the basis of social organization. Figure 9 shows various kindred ranges among the Sundanese. Most commonly, however, kindred affiliation and activities take place within the kindred range A which includes ego's direct lineals (parents, grandparents, offspring, and grandchildren) and his most immediate collaterals (avunculars, first cousins, siblings, and siblings' offspring). The Sundanese refer to them as their tegeus ("ours"), in contrast to kindred range B members whom they refer to as tigigir ("side"), comprising the grandparents' siblings, second cousins, first cousins' offspring, and siblings' grandchildren. The kindred range is sometimes extended to the third and fourth cousins (range C) particularly when they reside in near geographical proximity to ego, but it seldom extends beyond fifth cousins (range D). The Sundanese ambilineal descent group is based on the recognition of common descent from a male or female ancestor and excludes affines who have married members of the group. If the group is formed by descendants of a patrilineal ancestor, then the matrilineal descendants are excluded from the group. For example, Harumaen's descent group A on Figure 10 excludes both Nos. 16 and 17, as well as Nos. 13, 21, and 55. The Sundanese descent groups are usually small and lack such corporate aspects as a common ownership of certain ancestral property regulating the rights and duties of its members. These characteristics derive first from the local inheritance practices. Unless the group has benefited from inheriting a large ancestral property and thereby attempts to preserve the land through endogamous marriage of the descendants, the economic strength === [PDF page 83] === EGq EGO FIGURE LEVELS OF KINDRED CIRCLES === [PDF page 84] === FIGURE 10 COGNATIC DESCENT GROUP SEGMENTATION === [PDF page 85] === 73 of the group decreases after each generation. The result is a development of segmentation within the group. Second, the requirement of co-residence in the same or surrounding villages for maintaining membership in a descent group has traditionally minimized the size of each descent group. Third, the repeated matrilocal post-marital residence practices coupled with the relative absence of economically productive and landowning adult male kinsmen have enhanced the groups' inevitable matrifocal tendencies. Although descent groups generate little corporate activity distinct from kindred activities, descent group boundaries are symbolically and socially significant. Despite the fact that non-cognatic kinsmen and affines cooperate with one another at the time of harvests, life crisis ceremonies, or house construction, membership in descent groups is distinct from kinship and affinal ties, which are expressed particularly at the time of such ritual observances as visiting ancestral graves and praying on behalf of ancestors. The unity of a descent group and the extent of cooperation among its members differ considerably from group to group depending more upon their economic strength and the presence of male leadership than on their actual size. For example, groups A, B, and C in the village of Cipari (Figure 10) are strongly matrifocal and lack male members except for their ancestors, Harumaen, Ota, and Enti (refer to Figure 14, p.115 and Table 17, p.112) who left their descendants with considerable property. Much of the property, though since fragmented, has successfully remained in their hands. The economic strength of group A, the ulamas' descent group, is a consequence of their special concern for the preservation of property necessary to continue the Islamic institutions. In the case of group B, the head of household 34, who is the sepuh of the descent group, not only has considerable === [PDF page 86] === 74 property himself but exercises his leadership and authority in bringing the group together and generating mutual help among its members. Group D, however, lacks male members and it is weak economically. Refer to Figure 10 (p.72) again and see that their ancestor Sewi received very little property from her parents compared with her siblings, due to the fact that she had been a member of her mother's descent group outside the village. She moved to Cipari only after her mother's and husband's deaths. The descent groups E and F are descendants of Jumiah and Salkiem and not descendants of the village founder. Group E is extremely weak as it is a pure matrilineage, but Group F, on the other hand, is unique. The head of this group, the household head of 36, has acquired a considerable amount of property by purchase over the years, and because of his increased wealth, the group has expanded rapidly in the village. The remaining descendants of the village founder, Nos. 10, 19, 45, and 53, are not members of any of the village's descent groups. Some of them have returned to Cipari several generations after their ancestors had moved out of the village. In other cases, all other members of the descent group have left the village due to the group's economic incapacity. Those who have returned, however, were motivated by the property still left in the village by their ancestors, but they have their own descent groups elsewhere, generally near the village. These families may take part in cooperative activities with their kinsmen in the village, but the kinship distance and the lack of membership in any of the descent groups tends to weaken and isolate their positions. === [PDF page 87] === 75 E. Small Domestic Units: Family Structure According to the matrilocal post-marital residence practice and the traditional avoidance of the lineal family ("which links the families of procreation of several married siblings to their common family of orientation but which dissolves with the death of their parents", Murdock 1968: 239), a married daughter and her family of procreation must move out of her parents' household and establish a neolocal residence when her younger sister gets married and replaces her. Consequently, a matrilocal stem family ("link the family of procreation of one married child to his/her family of orientation in a common household", Murdock 1968:239), and a neolocal nuclear family have been the two types of traditional family structure among the Priangan Sundanese (see Figure 11). When a younger daughter is married, sometimes the parents literally cut the house into two halves so as to enable their elder daughter's family to establish neolocal residence. In reality, however, economic decline and the maximum population expansion in the village have limited the number of nuclear families, while the stem families are often more complex than the ideal type (see Table 15). Table 15 Family Types Matrilocal stem family Patrilocal stem family Neolocal nuclear family Widows (single member family) Extended family Total 24 22 55 === [PDF page 88] === PARENTAL GENERATION Panrjnnrjti Pindahan flparl S*H 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 3031 32 33 34 35 36 37 33 39 40 41 42 <n 44 4S 46U7 43 49a06 1 5 " "53 5 i 5 5 husband w1fe husband w1fe w1fe O husband O Knn.Acii O O O O husband Kife's sister SECO.DGE'ERATIOI Carried daughter Carried son asli-in-law non-asli-in-law o O Divorced dougnter Hi dewed deu^nter Unrarned sons O e O O O 0 0 asli husband tion-asli husband Unxarried daughters Adopted children O o o ooo THI'D CE'.sKnTIO'. Children of rarrled sors/daji-hters Qiildren of divorced/ widowed daughters AsujiUU grandchildren FArv'IDr S I Z E 10 5 1 10 9 2 5 7 6 7 6 8 9 8 6 9 1 11 11 6 8 2 ULCtAbhU V SEASONAL LABORERS F I G U R E 11 F A M I L Y C O M P O S I T I O N 10 === [PDF page 89] === 11 A great majority of neolocal families are made up of young couples with their children. The number of nuclear families also includes three families who have no children, and another with a grandchild instead of children, and two others with children and grandchildren. Many diverse forms are found among the stem families. Many of these families lack a father of senior generation or that of their daughter's family of procreation, or else they have extra lineals, such as a divorced daughter with her children aside from a married daughter and her family of procreation, or a great grandmother, or a divorced sister of a parent. The details are shown in Table 16. Table 16 Compositions of the Stem Families Parents, one married son or daughter and her/his family of procreation Parents, their unmarried children, one married daughter and her family of procreation Parents, their unmarried children, one married daughter and her husband Parents, unmarried children, one divorced or widowed daughter and her children Parents, one divorced daughter and her children Parents with unmarried children, married sons or daughter with his/her family of procreation, one divorced or widowed daughter with her children Grandparents, parents, parents' unmarried children, a married daughter and her family of procreation Parents, unmarried children, a parent's widowed sister, one married daughter and her family of procreation Total 27 === [PDF page 90] === 78 Four irregularities exist—three cases of patrilocal stem families and one extended family ("embracing two or more married siblings in its senior generation," Murdock 1968:237)—which exist for acceptable reasons in relation to the local residence practice. Regarding the patrilocal stem families, in one case the son is the only child of a widowed mother, in the second the child is the only normal child of the oldest man of the village (the other two children are mentally ill), and in the last case one of the only two male children and the other son has moved to Jakarta. What is probably more important in all these cases is the fact that the daughtersin-law are related to their fathers-in-law. In the same manner, the only extended family in the village is an extraordinary case: the husband of one of the two sisters is paralyzed from the waist down, and the couple have no children of their own. The fact that both Sundanese descent groups and small domestic units are strongly matrifocal, lacking male dominance and leadership, is an extremely important factor enabling the ulama to practice both traditional roles and authority. Whereas mothers, daughters, and sisters often maintain life-long ties, living in near geographical proximity to each other, interacting daily, and exchanging mutual help, the men of the village are mobile without maintaining permanent ties with each other and are not economically strong. Lineal members of the family, sons and brothers, move out of the village, and fathers and sons-in-law are often treated like respected guests of the house, while many divorced or widowed daughters remain with their parents and married daughters. The matrifocal tendency has been heightened in recent years as a considerable number of male adult villagers work in cities throughout most of the year. While the men of the family are absent from the village, mothers and married daughters === [PDF page 91] === 79 share the same kitchen and meals, gather five times daily for prayers, and attend their rice fields. When their husbands return, they separate their kitchens and cook independently. The non-asli men of the village do not necessarily have congenial relationships with virilocal asli men (born and raised in the village) who remain in the village rather than engage in petty trade in the cities. These non-asli men tend to feel ill at ease even long after their initial arrival at the village. As I will discuss in the chapter on life in a transitional society, the recent change of economic activities and the absence of men from the village's daily life has had a great impact upon the women's sense of helplessness in the world around them. The ulama who act as fathers and patrons of the village consequently assume roles that are outside of their prescribed religious roles. The function of the religion itself in this transitional society seems to have added a further relevance and meaning to the anxiety-ridden life of the peasant families. As the sepuh (wise elders) of the community, the ulama are expected to provide the villagers with security, comforts, and often financial assistance in order to ease the families' problems. F. The Village Unit, Boundaries and Ties with Neighboring Villages Most small Sundanese villages in Priangan stand in semiautonomy from surrounding villages. Boundaries are well defined and the tokok (prominent figures) of each village are careful not to interfere with the affairs of other villages unless they have had traditional kinship and affinal ties and maintain practical and functional relationships with the neighboring villages. === [PDF page 92] === 80 1. Historical and Functional Relationship Cipari has historically maintained kinship and religious ties with its four surrounding villages: Pingirsari, Cipari Babakan, Cidewa and Tegalkiang. Cipari and Pingirsari are the oldest of the five villages and their founders all came from the foot of Mt. Sedakeling, northeast of Cipari. Cipari is related to Tegalkiang and Pingirsari to the north of Cipari through its affinal ties with the founders, whereas Cipari Babakan and Cidewa are direct off-shoots of Cipari and were founded by two sons of the village founder in Cipari: Cipari Babakan by Hasan, Samsudin's eldest son, and Cidewa by Abkaim, the latter's elder brother. Their kinship and affinal ties with these villages are shown in Figure 12. Cipari is located in the middle of its four surrounding villages and functions as the center of both social and religious activities. Religious institutions All four villages have at least one lanqgar (village mosque and prayer house) and one religious functionary, the ulama or the ustad (junior religious functionaries), who, with the exception of the one in Pingirsari, are related to the ulama in Cipari. On religious holidays and for Friday prayers, however, male villagers from the four surrounding villages gather a't the mosque in Cipari. Nightly and weekly pengajian religious lecture meetings are also attended by villagers from all these villages. The members of the ulamas' family in Cipari are careful in maintaining the proper facilities necessary for them to engage in religious activities in Cipari. Sometimes they repair the paths from surrounding villages to Cipari to encourage people to attend religious programs offered in Cipari. The villagers, in return, participate in coordinated activities, such as building schools and dormitories in Cipari, and follow religious, === [PDF page 93] === Embah \ Zamai Abid/ri \(jamberea) A _ - i J \ ( c ^ e w a V ( regaigede) ° ^ H a l i r n u n a n %°'\*j& A\cT R a n t. e m c U s a m s u d ^ k, \ (kostarea) / A l i e m (cipari) Angit A f ° Ap.jahTX (cawi) TayiBJ. MuktarA f o Uf ^. M >_£ Mason u JLX—' Harumabn o iMadsari J T N —T~~ Usman Tarmidi Kohar IHasim T4M°if,bojong) •^t-nrs^sraT Hasan PINGIRSARI T EGAL K I A N G P A R I CIPARI BABAKAN FIGURE 12 00 KINSHIP T I E S WITH NEIGHBOURING VILLAGES === [PDF page 94] === 82 political, and social instructions provided by the ulamas' family in Cipari. Educational institutions The pesantren, junior and senior religious high schools, and the grade school are open to children from these villages. The grade school in Cipari was opened in 1962 and has provided valuable educational opportunities to children who otherwise might not have obtained any education at all. Before 1962 the nearest grade school was located at Cibeuream about a kilometer away from Cipari near the highway leading to Cibatu. Today it is one of five grade schools in the Desa Citangtu, and its five teachers teach 241 school children. Since then, the enrollment has increased four times. The junior and senior high schools, on the other hand, have more students from outside these villages. Graveyards There are two graveyards near Cipari, Astana Gede (the big grave) which belongs to the desa, and Astana Euri, a private family burial ground originally contributed by Harumaen and Maemuna, one of Hasan's daughters in Cipari Babakan. Ever since the early 1930's after Harumaen's death, all villagers from the two villages have been buried in Astana Euri, despite the fact that Astana Gede has more space left. Villagers from Pingirsari and Tegalkiang, neither of which belongs to Desa Citangtu, are buried in Astana Gede, partly because of the proximity to the villages but more importantly because they wish the deceased members of their families to be buried along with the members of the congregation. The congregation prays for the deceased on every Thursday night and the families fear that if their dead were buried elsewhere, their spirits would not receive the merits contributed to them by the congregation. === [PDF page 95] === 83 Boundaries Although these kinship and functional ties generate communal cooperation and the sense of shared values, each village is independent from the other when it comes to the practice of authority by the tokok (prominent figures). For example, the ulama in Cipari may give advice to non-villagers but only upon request. Even then they would do so as kinsmen, ulama, and individuals, but not as the leaders of the five villages. The ulamas' authority to act as representatives of all five villages is limited to questions relating to security, and to religious and educational institutions which they run and for which they take responsibility. At times of political and social crisis which concern the security of all these villages and require cooperation, the ulamas' family in Cipari takes leadership. If the outside authority threatens the functions of the village institutions, they act and challenge the authority as the agents of the local community which includes all of these villages. The ulama in Cipari, however, are not concerned with family affairs, disputes, and care of villagers in other villages. These matters are supposedly taken care of by the tokok of each village. The distribution of zakat (religious alms), in the same way, extends as far as the limit of the village boundary unless some extremely poor family outside the village is related to a family in close genealogical proximity in the village. Despite that, the villagers in all these villages enjoy the facilities provided by the ulamas' family in Cipari, and the ulama feel obliged to reward them when they cooperate for the ulamas' project in Cipari. This shows a subtlety involved in the practice of authority for mobilizing outside villagers, because the latter are not, under normal conditions, accessible except to the tokok of their own villages. === [PDF page 96] === 84 3. Symbolic Village Unity Access to fresh and clean water is crucial to Muslem peasants. Water is the source of wet rice agriculture, fish pond agriculture, and essential for merit-making religious activities. It is no wonder that many Sundanese villages are named after the Sundanese word for water, C K On Priangan mountain slopes where water is accessible from both rivers and springs, the control of water flow involves careful engineering by local authorities. The way it is done in Cipari shows the symbolic aspect of the communal life as well as the authority of the ulama as the village patron. Several houses, including the ulama's in the western section, have wells in their compounds, but the entire western section lacks any immediate supply of water from the ground. The rice fields in the north of Cipari draw water from one large spring about a kilometer away, but the water is not fresh or clean enough either for domestic or ritual purposes. These conditions increase all the more the villagers' dependence upon the spring water coming into the village from the ulama's fish pond located at the north end of the village (see Figure 13). The fish pond was originally donated by Hasan, Harumaen's eldest brother, as wakap for the religious and communal use by the ulamas' family and the village. The ground upon which the village is located descends in a southeasterly direction, and the water from the pond flows in the same direction. The fresh spring water is channeled through a tiny ditch along the rice field. Before reaching the village, part of the water is drawn to the west to water two fish ponds located right behind th young ulama's house. The remaining water drops at the three small fish tanks located in between houses 33, 30 and 38. The plot of land on which house 38 is built and all the fish tanks belong to the ulamas' family. From the central fish tank === [PDF page 97] === 85 „-.undergroud JfishDond water pipe icefield ^ washing place driver ^weil FIGURE 13 SKETCH-MAP ••'®.^#GRAVE YARD WATER FLOW === [PDF page 98] === 86 the water is divided in four directions, two of them watering small fish ponds scattered in the 'eastern section of the village, and eventually joining another spring located at the south end of the village. The largest portion of the water, however, drops at the communal washing place located right in between houses 27 and 30. It was constructed by the ulamas' family and provides the villagers in the eastern section with valuable clean water for ritual purification before prayers. The central water tank also provides water to another small fish tank located in front of house 27, from which an underground water pipe channels the water to the mosque and madrasah compound. It is used by santri and the villagers for washing clothes, and for ritual purification. From there, another underground pipe draws and drops the water to the second communal washing place located in front of the mosque, and to the fish pond owned by the ulama. The construction of water channels was completed by the ulama of the previous generation. It was arranged in such a way that the villagers had access to clean water, while the ulama of the village who owned the fish ponds in the village would take advantage of human wastes, melted soap, and milky waste from washed rice for nutrient necessary to raise fish. The water from the wakap pond integrates the agricultural economy, and the religious and daily needs of the villagers, but the fish pond itself represents symbolic unity among those who are involved with the ulamas' projects. The wakap pond is located furthest from the.village but on the highest slope around the area. The pond is regarded by the villagers as their communal land, something to share among the villagers and the ulama. When other privately owned large fish ponds are drained, it gives the villagers a sense of social and economic distance from the family which owns them and === [PDF page 99] === 87 which makes a large profit from them. But whenever the v/akap pond is drained, every four to five months, every villager is at the site trying to help but mostly bothering the ulamas' family as they attempt to catch and collect fish from the pond. When the task is completed the ulamas' family distributes the catch among the villagers, sends some to the school teachers, whom the ulama believes to be underpaid by the government, and gives some to patron benefactors who regularly donate funds to the ulamas1 projects. Some are kept in the fish tank for the outside guests, and for sale to raise money for the tasks of the ulama. Summary I have maintained in this chapter that the position of the traditional mediator, the village ulama, is imbedded in the indigenous (not necessarily Islamic) social structure of the local village community. The community is made up of a large descent group and some outsiders at its fringes. They practice endogamous marriage with a high frequency, and the ulama occupy the genealogically superior sepuh position. The segmenting tendency within the group, as the result of population increase and economic decline, on the one hand, and the matrifocal small domestic units and the lack of corporate features among the segments of the descent group on the other, have induced the need for cooperation among villagers under the leadership of the local ulama. The paternalistic role of the ulama has even increased in recent years as the result of social and economic changes which have had an impact upon the transitional society of the villages. I will discuss the kind of transition which has taken place in rural communities, and the nature of the effects arising from the impact of transition in the following two chapters. Chapter II will deal with the === [PDF page 100] === 88 changing pattern of rural subsistence activity, and Chapter III with the impact of social change upon the lives of villagers as manifested in their life cycles. In these two chapters, one can see that the ulama have surfaced as socially relevant leaders in the peasants' lives and community. === [PDF page 101] === Chapter II LIFE IN A POST-TRADITIONAL PEASANT COMMUNITY: The Pattern of Changing Rural Economy and Economic Behavior Since the traditional agrarian economy is based on land, the solution to the problems of population expansion has been for new generations to move out of the villages to uncultivated regions and open new productive fields. When the extension of cultivated land reached the maximum point, however, the Inevitable outcome was the fragmentation of land holdings. The introduction of a cash economy has worsened the already stagnating agrarian economy, as more and more peasants have resorted to selling their last piece of land to a limited number of large landowners for much needed cash. In the decades following the turn of the last century, West Java suffered from two types of trends: the fragmentation of land holdings among the poor peasants, and the concentration of land among the limited number of the rich. What has characterized the economic practices of an average peasant in Cipari has been and still is a small landholding with less than one-seventh of a hectare used for labor-intensive wet rice agriculture. Several generations ago, the ulamas' family was a large landowner, but today the family is not rich by local standards, the ancestral arable land having been divided and fragmented over the years in this century. There is no large landowner in the village, and economic differentiation among the villagers is low. Despite the absence of visible signs of change, a significant alteration in the pattern of rural economic practice has taken place in the village since the Japanese occupation of Indonesia. The change has been 89 === [PDF page 102] === 90 the result of increased ties between the urban and rural economic system, and the development of small-scale entrepreneurship among the peasantry. By taking advantage of the modern sector of the capitalistic economic system, the Muslem peasants have begun to earn wages as skilled seasonal laborers in urban centers and have mobilized their savings for small-scale agricultural and non-agricultural enterprises. The local ulama in Cipari has played a major role in this process of developing entrepreneurship by stimulating profit-making incentives and providing both the skills and sometimes even the capital investment. The new trend of rural-urban entrepreneurship among the peasantry has substantially curbed the otherwise inevitable force of land fragmentation and further economic decline. However, the majority of the peasants' economic goals are still land. focused upon the acquisition and exploitation of arable It is no longer clear in such a post-traditional peasant society whether their concentration on land-based economic practices derives from the "inherently" conservative nature of the peasants' orientation, whether they have simply not reached the point of economic strength and sophistication necessary to go into non-agricultural economic enterprises, or whether it is the outcome of careful calculation within the economic limit with which the peasants must operate. There have been, however, a few cases of non-agricultural enterprises among the peasantry. The pattern of a changing economy in post-traditional society, however, involves technical problems in both agricultural practices and entrepreneurship. As a part of presenting the nature of the post-traditional peasant community, I will discuss in this chapter the interdependency between the traditional sector of the land-based agricultural economic system and the modern sector of non-agricultural enterprises. problems related to the agricultural practices. I will begin with the === [PDF page 103] === 91 A. Agricultural Practices Since rice is the staple food of the Indonesian diet, the success of wet rice agriculture is the major concern not only of the rural population but also of the government. The introduction of chemical fertilizers in the late 1960's through the BIMAS (Bimbingan Masyarakat) agrarian project of the new regime's first five-year plan seems to have curbed the faltering of the nation's agrarian economy, but the year 1972 again marked a retreat from the promised future. The long drought that lasted from early spring until late fall of that year brought much damage to the nation's wet rice and secondary crop agriculture, particularly in the rainfall agricultural regions of East and Central Java and Sumatra. The failure of the rice crop placed great stress on the nation's economy. Before October of that year, the average price of rice was about 26 rp/kg in the rural areas and about 30 rp/kg in the cities, but shortly before the Lebaran celebration the price more than doubled. In Wanaraja, for example, the price went up as high as 75 rp/kg, in the nation's capital as high as 150 rp/kg, and in Sumatra more than 200 rp/kg. The government first blamed the Chinese merchants for controlling the price of rice, while at the same time adopting several policies aimed at solving the crisis, which met with little success. The economic stress was accelerated by the uneasiness caused by student demonstrations against government corruption and the spreading rumors of Communist subversive activities against the present regime. Facing the first presidential election at the National Assembly since the last Communist coup in 1965, the government felt a need for an immediate economic restoration. In an attempt to control the flow and price of rice, the government ordered farmers to sell all their harvested rice to the previously ill-famed === [PDF page 104] === 92 agricultural co-op, BUUD (Badan Usaha Unit Desa, Desa cooperation); but the farmers preferred the free market over a fixed governmental price, and sold their harvests to agents who purchased rice directly from the farmers. The government, therefore, prohibited transportation of rice from one region to another. At every post between regions military stations were set up to keep an eye on rice transportation, but that too did not see much success because officers were bribed without much difficulty. Only with the help of imported rice from Burma and Japan did the price of rice begin to fall by early February, Shortly before the opening of the National Assembly in March 1973 the price of rice went dov/n to 69 rp/kg and the problem seemed to be solved, although only temporarily. By July of that year the price went up again: 160 rp/kg in Jakarta and by the end of the month it was as high as 260 rp/kg. The soaring price of rice triggered the inflation of other major commodities. Cooking oil, which had been 100 rupiah per litre in the countryside and 160 in cities before the inflation, climbed to 240 in the villages and 320 in the cities by the middle of May 1973. The rise of prices was particularly great among dietary and chemical products. The general inflation of all the commodities encouraged even small landed peasants to resort to selling their harvest for the purchase of gold, a habit which the peasants acquired in order to stabilize their subsistence during the Sukarno era when inflation was skyrocketing and devaluation of the rupiah took place repeatedly. Their idea was not to save capital in the form of gold, but the saved gold could easily be converted into cash at the current, inflated rate, whenever money was needed. For example, a peasant with less than enough rice to support his family for the season would still sell rice, for the price of rice fluctuates up and down, but === [PDF page 105] === 93 the price of gold never goes down. So he sells his rice at the time of harvest when the price is highest, and he buys rice in turn when the price is lowest or borrows from his relatives in the village during the season. The inevitable occurred during the year 1972-1973; the price of gold doubled from 700 rp/g in July 1972 to 1400 rp/g one year later. The situation was partly helped by the devaluation of the dollar in the international market that year. As the year ended, the Chinese, who made up the majority of the nation's gold dealers, accumulated more capital in their hands, while the indigenous Indonesian population suffered from the inflation and staggering economy. The peasants' economic cycle, using gold as their form of savings and medium of transaction, has long been comdemned by economists; but from the peasants' point of view it is the best way to secure their subsistence in an economic system that is unstable and uncontrollable. Although an analysis of the larger economy and its malfunctions is beyond the scope of this dissertation, it is important for us to remember that the economic behavior among the peasantry in post-traditional societies cannot be understood without referring to events in the nation's capital and in the encompassing economic systesm. With this framework in mind, we will now examine the problems of contemporary rural agricultural practices. 1. Wet Rice Agricultural Practices and Related Problems Among the Priangan Sundanese wet rice agriculture, pisciculture (fish farming), and horticulture are practiced side by side and comprise integral parts of the region's agrarian economy. The Sundanese rice growers have the advantages of both a stable water supply from mountain rainfall and from springs, and of the mountainous topography which enables dry season farming through terraced irrigation. === [PDF page 106] === 94 The beginning and the end of the agricultural cycle differs from region to region depending upon the kinds of water sources, and upon their attempts to maximize harvests and profit from cash agricultural crops. The Priangan Sundanese have traditionally adopted a zoning system by dividing the region into several sections. All of the farmers within a given zone plant, grow, and harvest paddy at about the same time, but a few months earlier or later than in the surrounding zones. The zoning system works best for the rice growers in two respects: it helps minimize such hazards as insects, birds and rats, and it prevents a sudden price drop in rice due to flooding the market. The beginning of a zone's new season depends on the availability of water. In areas of sufficient water supply from mountain streams and springs, the time for beginning a new cycle can be flexible as compared with areas soley dependent upon rainfall. Cipari belongs to a zone which begins its new growing season with the coming of the rainy season in late November and ends it around early April; another cycle begins shortly thereafter in May and ends in early October before the fasting month. This zone stretches 4 km to the west as far as to Sadang, 3 km to the east as far as to Cinta, and 4.5 km to the SirnasasaTegalawi region. The neighboring region around Cipari's zone begins its cycle a few months later than Cipari. The reason why Cipari's zone must start with the coming of the rainy season is because some sections of the zone depend on rainfall and have no access to spring or mountain water, whereas the surrounding zones have year-long access to mountain streams from Mt. Telagabodas and Mt. Sedakeling. The zone north of Cipari, however, used to follow the schedule of Cipari's zone; but in 1972 they delayed planting and joined the Sadang-Cibatu-Tegalawi timetable because the long drought dried up mountain streams and the region had to draw water from Cinta areas where the altitude is higher than Cipari's zone. === [PDF page 107] === 95 In the rainfall agricultural areas, ploughing begins before the end of the dry season if the coming rainy season is expected to last longer and the farmers can expect to grow rice twice during the rainy season. If the rainy season is expected to be short, however, the farmers grow secondary horticultural dry season crops in their dried sawah fields for the early part of the rainy season (refer to page 107). After harvest, they convert the land into paddy fields, about a month after the coming of rain. this latter case, they cannot grow rice more than once. Rice is grown twice a year in Cipari's zone, and the farmers must prepare their fields as soon as the rainy season begins. Shortly before the fasting month starts, the ploughing is completed and the seeds are planted in the nursing bed. The yellowest and most matured grains from the previous season are selected, but if the farmer wishes to plant different - kinds of grains from the previous season, then he must purchase them from other farmers or from a local co-op. There are two major kinds of paddy grains; one is called paddy Segon and the other paddy Tangkei. Each one of them has advantages and disadvantages, and the farmer must choose one of them according to his own preference. The paddy Tangkei does not easily fall off the stalk, whereas husks and grains of paddy Segon can be separated from stalks by simply stepping on the plant and rubbing it with the feet. In areas where ducks are raised in the wet fields, farmers prefer Tangkei, but the paddy requires more work and care. For example, the plants take more days to dry and since the grains are still on the stalks, they must be spread stalk by stalk in the sunlight. Second, the paddy Tangkei must be taken to a local mill to separate and unhusk the grain requiring twice as much expense as paddy Segon which is separated from the stalks during harvesting. Furthermore, === [PDF page 108] === 96 after unhusking Tangkei yields much less grain than paddy Segon. For example, one can expect only 62 to 65 kg of grain out of 100 kg of paddy before unhusking, whereas Segon yields as much as 75 to 80 kg. What is worse, paddy Tangkei does not necessarily sell at a higher price than Segon. Consequently, large-scale rice growers prefer Segon for the easy processing, but small-scale growers prefer Tangkei for they can manually unhusk it and the majority of the grain can be saved from falling off. Both paddy Tangkei and Segon have ten different kinds of genetic strains, and some industrious farmers with an experimental bent of mind will try one kind after another. However, some farmers reported that when the same strain is planted repeatedly, the size of the grain tends to get smaller each time. I suspect the strain is probably a hybrid. So most farmers alternate the choice of grain every season. Outside of these constraints the choice of grain for each season differs from farmer to farmer and it is best to say that most of them are still in the process of experimentation. Still others follow the secure traditional patterns. A local ulama, who is progressive and experimental minded, has so far discovered through trial and error that if Seqon Perak ("silver Segon") is planted during the rainy season, it seems to grow fast, and Segon Santolo is planted during the dry season also with a good result. But when he reversed them, it took twice as much time for the grain to mature and the harvest was delayed. The later the harvest from surrounding rice fields, the more loss the farmer is likely to suffer from, depredation by birds and rats and insect pests. The season's selected grains are soaked in water for two days, and on the third day they are planted in nursing beds, called pabinihan, where they will be left for 30 to 40 days before they will be replanted in the === [PDF page 109] === 97 rice fields. During this period, the unused wet rice fields are used to raise 20- to 30-day-old baby carp. When the fasting month celebration is over and the rainy season begins, the fish dre taken out and the water is drained so the rice field can be ploughed once again. Some people with a large rice field use water buffalo for ploughing if they can afford 400 rupiah a day, but most small-scale peasants plough with a hoe. Some meticulously minded large landowners prefer farm hands to water buffalos because, according to a local folk belief, buffalo ploughing cannot crush the roots of the previous season's paddy and thus it causes some "heat" problem preventing the rapid growth of the new paddy. A farm hand is paid 75 rupiah a day with one meal or 100 rupiah without any meal (20 cents). A week after ploughing farmers transplant paddy from the nursing beds. Again, the method of planting paddy differs from person to person. Some plant meticulously by drawing straight lines and some others at random. Some people plant 20 centimeters apart, and others as much as 30 centimeters apart. Some people plant a bundle of paddy at a place, and others just a single stalk. The only common feature of the planting practice is that it is all done by women who are paid about half the salary of men. In a large rice field sometimes sticky rice is also planted. The choice of seeds and planting methods also vary from farmer to farmer, as do methods of control and the use of fertilizers. Between one and four days after the paddy is planted in the fields, fertilizer is applied and the water level is raised. The water#is drawn from an irrigation channel called a solokan, and moves through the kokocoran (water gate) into the field. When the field is divided into sections, water travels along the narrow and shallow ditch between sections and goes out through palayangan into the next field. Some people, however, do not apply === [PDF page 110] === 98 fertilizer for as long as ten days to two weeks until the time of the first weeding. Some others wait almost a month. After the fertilizer is applied, they do not raise the water level until the following day. The kind of fertilizer used by each rice grower again varies. Some people use DS (double superphosphate) or TS (tri-super phosphate) or Pusri (Pupuk Syrivijaya). After the fertilizer is added, another batch of small carp are put in the field to be raised side by side with paddy. It is said that fertilizer also helps grow fish quicker and fatter. After forty days to two months, the fish are taken out (either to supplement the owner's diet or to be sold), the water is drained, and then the weeds in the field are removed for the second time. In two days fertilizer is applied for the second time, the water level is raised, and another batch of fish is introduced. Then the field is left until the grain matures. Some people close the water gate at the time when the paddy begins to bear grain and take out the fish, while others leave the same water level until the harvest is ready. Under normal conditions, within four to five months of the beginning of planting, the paddy is ready for harvest. In Cipari they begin harvesting from late March to late April, but judging the right time of harvest requires experience. Usually the farmers would like to wait until the husks are colored completely yellow, but during the rainy season if they wait too long, too much rainfall will rot the stalks and shake off the grains. This happened during my stay and the local farmers had to harvest paddy before it was completely mature, losing about one-third of the expected harvest. The harvest season is a good time for poor families to make extra wages from farm labor. Peasant women wait at large rice fields about to be harvested. They, too, must make a right judgment as to where they should === [PDF page 111] === 99 wait, for the competition is keen. The goal of a harvest helper is to get to the site of the harvest as fast as possible and to cut as many stalks as she can. Every one is dressed in peasants' worn clothes, with a basket hung around her shoulders to put the stalks in. They have one tiny and simple stalk cutter which fits in their palm. Holding it in the right hand and manipulating stalks with the left hand, some skilled women can cut two and a half times more than an unskilled one in a short period. A paddy field as large as 100 bata (1/7 hectare) can be finished within a few hours by as many as 20 to 50 helpers. When the harvest is completed, the harvesters bring their laden baskets back to the owner's yard. Paddy Segon will be immediately separated from stalks by stepping on it and rubbing it with the feet, and the helpers get their share, usually one out of twelve. The local ulama gives one out of ten plus some extra for carrying the harvest to the ulama's house. The ulama also distributes the entitled zakat share at the site if the entitled villagers are among the helpers. The period between the harvest and the sale of rice is often very short. Buying agents have a knowledge of regional schedules and know when to make their routine seasonal visits. They are already at the site when the helpers are still separating grains. Judging the right time to sell is another one of the many calculations involved in the cash agricultural economy. If it is too early and the market is still stocked with the previous season's harvest from another zone, then.the price is low. When everyone else is selling, the price is also low. The best time is in between these two points of time. The medium-sized landowners, like the ulamas' family in Cipari, consequently must try to harvest at this very time, and their planning for planting and calculations of growing paddy === [PDF page 112] === 100 must meet this crucial demand, whereas large-scale landowners and small subsistence rice growers do not pay as much attention to such meticulous planning as the medium-sized landowners attempting to maximize their profit from their limited resources. During the spring of 1973 the price of rice continued to go up because of the rice shortage which resulted from the previous year's drought, and the confused local farmers could not apply their traditional experience to judge the time to sell their crops. Some experienced a loss because they sold at the wrong time before the price went even higher. It was, nevertheless, a good year for most farmers. Harvest season is also a good time for small children who collect the rice which falls on the ground during the process of separating the grain from the stalks or while it is drying on straw mats. They can also earn a small wage by protecting drying rice from chickens. They use the money to buy sweets or a drink of fruit juice from local vendors who come around the villages during harvest. Beggars also take advantage of the newly acquired prosperity among the peasantry, asking for donations for the promise of heavenly merits in return. The beginning of the second agricultural rice season is more hectic than the first one. The rainy season may not last long and the farmers start nursing seeds long before the harvest of the previous season. Immediately after the harvest, the field is cleared, ploughed, and the paddy must be transplanted. The anxiety is not caused so much by the soon-ending rainy season as by the necessity to follow the timetable of the area within the zones which do depend on rainfall. Along with such tangible qualifications as proper skill, experience, and judgment, to be successful in an agrarian cash economy, the rice === [PDF page 113] === 101 growers are faced with two specific problems: the control of water and the application of fertilizer. For the rest of this section I will concentrate on these problems. The land around Cipari resembles a patchwork because dry land exists side by side with land having plenty of water. The problem of the water supply is usually caused by the arable land being higher than the two major sources of water—springs and rivers. The present technological level does not allow dry land to draw water from the rivers and springs which are lower in altitude than the land. Consequently, control of the water supply does not create disputes around Cipari. In areas where water sources are limited and the land is located on a gradual slope, like in the Wanaraja or Cibatu areas, the desa administration represented by andir (Sundanese) is authorized to control distribution of water. An andir is chosen by the population and is paid at the end of each harvest season. He must be a fair man of high social and religious standing. The kijaji in Wanaraja is an andir in his desa. He has a few assistants who go around the field and inspect the flow of water every night. If disputes arise, he takes charge of solving the problems. Despite the presence of an andir, disputes often break out in violence and during the tumultuous years of the post-Gestapu period following the abortive Communist coup in 1965, there were many such incidents in the Cibatu area where the water supply was limited and had to be drawn from the southeast of the town. During my stay a woman who had been a member of the defunct Communist women's league, GERWANI (Gerakan Wanita Indonesia, Indonesian Women's Movement), stopped the flow of irrigation from one paddy and channeled it to another. In this particular case, the local police stepped in. === [PDF page 114] === 102 In some parts of Indonesia the peasantry still resist the use of chemical fertilizer, but among the peasantry around the areas of Cipari the problem is more specific: the shortage of the necessary knov/ledge concerning the proper use of fertilizer to gain the maximum advantage, and the lack of funds necessary to purchase it. The new chemical fertilizer was first introduced into the region around 1966. At that time there was only a handful of relatively well-off farmers who could afford it and experiment with it through trial and error. They did not know which brand to choose, how much was needed, nor how to apply it. Imported chemical fertilizers from Japan had instructions written in English. The local Koperta, a co-op now called BUUD, under the Department of Agriculture, distributed the fertilizer; but it lacked a sufficient number of assistants to give instructions to every farmer. In some cases, however, after the use of fertliizer the harvest more than doubled. Immediately other farmers were willing to adopt the new fertilizer though not always with much success. In 1970 one wealthy engineer from near the village of Cipari offered one of his rice fields to the Bogor agriculture students (ITB, Bogor West Java) to experiment and show the local farmers how to apply the fertilizer. Unfortunately, the project had no success largely because of the inadequate care of the paddy field rather than the improper application of the fertilizer. This failure however, did not discourage the local farmers from attempting to learn, in their own way, the best way to apply the fertilizers. The problems involved in the successful application of fertilizer are multiple and complicated. Every rice grower chooses his preferred seeds and uses his own method of ploughing and planting paddy. Furthermore, it is believed that because every plot of arable land has its own characteristics === [PDF page 115] === 103 and productivity, a type of fertilizer successful at one rice field does not necessarily work with equal success at another. One type of fertilizer must match the quality of the soil, the kind of grain, the amount of water and the kind of labor input. The problem is that nobody seems to know which type of fertilizer and method bring the best result except by experimenting in one's own rice field. Even the ulama, who were among the first to use fertilizer in the region and are advocates of modern technology, refrain from giving advice on the issue for fear that their techniques might not work in other places unless given the same kind of proper care as their own. There are four kinds of chemical fertilizers from which local farmers can make a choice. DS (double superphosphate) and TS (tri-superphosphate) are imported from Japan while Urea and Pusri are locally blended. When these fertilizers first appeared in Koperta, the local co-op, the staff members went around and explained that TS or DS should be used for the rainy season and Ureas for the dry season, but the result was not successful. In recent years, Pusri, the Indonesian product, already mixed to suit the Indonesian soil, has become more popular. The local rice growers have learned since that TS and DS help increase the amount of gram and mature paddy quickly, while Urea is good for growing healthy and tall paddy stalks and leaves but does not necessarily increase the amount of harvest. So they combine them according to the soil conditions and the local climate. For example, in the spring of 1972 they applied a smaller amount of Ureas and more of TS and DS because the long drought and many sunny days during the year help mature stalks but less rain might prevent the grain from maturing. In the decade since fertilizer was first introduced, the peasantry have advanced in their knowledge of fertilizer, but the actual use of === [PDF page 116] === 104 fertilizer is still limited to a few middle class farmers since the majority of small landed peasants could not afford to buy it or to experiment in order to discover which type and method would suit their land best. During that year new fertilizer was sold in the local store for 29 rupiah per kilogram. A small-scale farmer with an average 100 bata (1/7 hectare) would then need about 60 kg of fertilizer for a season, costing him as much as 1740 rupiah. This is about four dollars, but to the local population it is a little less than their total monthly income. The local agricultural co-op extends credit to cashless peasants to encourage them to use fertilizers, but in 1972 it charged 10 rupiah more per kilogram than in the stores. Though the arrangement is made for the peasants to return the credit only after the harvest, often the harvest is not sufficient to pay it back. For example, a 100 bata landowner could raise only 800 kg of paddy, an amount which barely supplies enough for a family of five to subsist on. A mediocre farmer would raise only about 600 kg. When a farmer fails to return his credit, then he cannot expect to receive more credit until he first pays off his debt. That is why many small-landed peasants have gone back to traditional cow dung and garbage for their fertilizer. More research and the dissemination of information about proper fertilizer application would help prevent the local farmers from going into debt and stabilize the agrarian economy. But the problem of cash shortage is a serious question. Wages earned by seasonal migrants in cities would come in handy for purchasing such crucial items as fertilizer, but again cash income from trade is not stable either. === [PDF page 117] === 105 Horticulture In regions around Cipari where most arable land with access to water is used for wet rice agriculture, horticulture plays only a minor role in the economy, and nobody raises garden crops for profit. People who do engage in this type of agriculture use vegetable crops to supplement their diet. Two types of horticulture are practiced in this region: dry season crops raised in dried rice fields during the period in between the two agricultural cycles, and rainy season crops on dry land inaccessible to irrigation water. The kinds of crops raised with each type vary, but in neither case are horticultural crops profitable unless raised systematically for commercial purposes. The rainy season horticulture is practiced by those who have relatively large tracts of land with no accessible water during the early part of the rainy season. For the second half of the season they convert the same land for the rainfall rice agriculture. Some peasants with a small plot of waste land in their front or back yards also cultivate and grow rainy season crops to supplement their diet. There are three main crops for rainy season horticulture: (1) ketela, tubers such as cassava and sweet potato, (2) kecang, lentils such as peanuts, soybeans, black beans, red kidney beans, and small green beans, and (3) red and yellow corn. With the coming of the rainy season, all three except potato are planted in rows and corn seeds are planted between the rows. To make the maximum use of limited space, they even plant various kinds of beans between the corn seeds. Corn and beans need plenty of water and that is why they are grown in the early part of the rainy season. Cassava is planted at the same time because it takes a long time to grow, sometimes as === [PDF page 118] === 106 long as eight months. Corn normally takes three and a half months, but beans take so little time that they can be planted twice during the season, and still there will be enough time left for potatos, which require little water and can even stand the beginning of the dry season. The advantage of most rainy season crops is that they can be stored and used to supplement rice between seasons when the supply of rice gets low. The rainy season crop growers are also discouraged from selling the crops because they are not very profitable. Since horticulture depends completely upon rainfall, everyone plants and harvests the same kinds of crops at the same time. Thus to control a stable flow of crops into the market and maintain stable prices is almost impossible. In February, for example, when the corn of the region is harvested, the price drops down to 10 rupiah for 10 cobs (a quarter of a cent). There are a few commercially profitable crops, such as red kidney beans, which sold for 85 rp/kg in early March 1973, and roai, turmaric, hot peppers and other crops mostly used for seasonings. These are planted around the edges of gardens and can be picked throughout the season for domestic use or for gifts to friends and neighbors. Dry season horticulture is not popularly practiced in the region. The drained rainfall paddy field becomes grazing land for water buffalo and goats, and dry season crops are raised by twice-a-year rice grov/ers in their wet rice fields during the period between the late dry season and the coming of the rainy season, when the paddy is not grown in the fields. Even then, it is too much work for them to convert the field into a crop garden and reconvert it back into rice fields, since the dry season crops are neither profitable nor storable. It is much more labor-saving and profitable to raise fish instead in the same field when it is not being === [PDF page 119] === 107 used for paddy. The sale of the fish may allow the peasants to purchase necessary fertilizer for the following season. Dry season crops are limited to those which require little water but days of strong sunlight. The dry season crop growers must judge exactly the length of the remaining dry season and the coming of the rainy season so as to complete garden crops before the time for ploughing for paddy raising. They must also consider market prices of crops since dry season crops must be sold, given away, or consumed domestically soon after harvest. If the dry season is expected to end shortly, they must choose the kinds of crops that grow quickly, like tomatos, cucumbers, eggplant and cabbage, but if it seems that it will last longer, they can raise crops which take a longer period of time but can be sold for higher prices, such as large red peppers, shallots, and onions. Piscic iture, Fish Farming After rice agriculture, fish farming is the next most profitable form of agriculture in the region. Fish make up the most easily accessible source of protein in rural areas and when they are regularly raised and sold, provide a valuable source of income for peasant families. Without a doubt every peasant wishes to own a fish pond, however small it may be, after a tract of rice field. The practice of raising fish in the rice field along with paddy has already been described, and in this section I will discuss pure fish pond farming. Though highly desired among the peasantry of the region, fish pond farming is restricted to only a few rich who have enough land to grow rice for both domestic and commercial purposes. In Cipari, for example, only 18 families own at least one fish pond and most of them are small. There are two types of fish farming: a short-term pisciculture raising only small === [PDF page 120] === 108 carp in small ponds, and the other, a long-term pisciculture, lasting three months to half a year, raising adult carp in large ponds. The first type requires much care and attention and is practiced by small landed local farmers, whereas the second type requires no labor and is practiced most commonly by absentee landowners. The short-term fish farming provides the owner with regular monthly income and is purely profit motivated. The total cycle of short-term fish farming takes between 20 and 23 days, beginning with hatching eggs in a nursing bed. In Cipari, however, only two fish ponds out of 18 are equipped with a nursing bed, and the owners of the remaining fish ponds purchase already hatched baby carp from the two families. In about 20 to 23 days, the baby carp are collected and sold. Most adult male villagers who do not engage in seasonal labor in the cities work as fish peddlers or own at least one fish pond. The owner and the peddlers engage in a credit arrangement, and the latter take 10 percent from the profit. The pond is cleared in the early morning, and the owner distributes fish to peddlers who in turn carry them in baskets slung over their shoulders and visit villages in need of baby fish to plant in their rice fields. The zoning system and different timetables for growing rice also help stabliize the fish price. The farmers who buy baby carp from the peddlers grow them in the rice field and then sell them or use them for domestic consumption. Fish farming thus aids the rural cash economy and supplements rice agriculture, particularly during the growing seasons. The base price of fish is sometimes even higher than that of rice. In August 1972, for example, the price of small fish was 150 to 170 rupiah per kilogram; but one year later it almost doubled. Every 25 days the fish farmer can get about 10 kilograms of small fish out of a 50 to 70 bata (1/14 to 1/10 hectare) fish pond, providing them with an income of 2500 rupiah. Since most fish pond owners have their === [PDF page 121] === 109 own rice field to grow rice for their families, this extra cash income can be used to purchase daily needs or be saved in gold. During the rainy season, the price of fish goes up as the demand increases among the fish pond rice growers. Small carp are the most profitable fish, but there are some other fish that can be sold for a small profit only in matured form. Nilem, Abjael and Tawes, for example, can be bought for only 100 rupiah per kilogram. Long-term fish farming in large fish ponds provides the owners with a large sum of cash income twice or three times a year. Since most large fish ponds around Cipari have at least one spring source and the water is very fresh and clean, local villagers use the water for washing rice, dishes, and clothes, and the waste water from these uses provides the fish with nutrients. Consequently, largp fish pond owners prefer long-term fish farming: The clean water washes away mold which emerges on the surface and prevents fish from growing whereas the waste water and human waste feed the fish. The absentee landowners of the large fish ponds make a trip to the site shortly before the Islamic holidays to drain the ponds and collect fish. Fish peddlers of the region gather around and wait for the distribution of the fish. Since every peddler can carry only so much for a day's trip, and they all operate on credit, there is always the chance for another peddler to get a share of fish for sale. After the pond is divided into sections and each section is cleared, villagers from surrounding villages scoop up whatever fish are left uncaught; eels and small shrimp, primarily. Large fish are caught by hand and small ones in bamboo baskets called ayakan or bubu. Out of one large fish pond, about 150 to 200 bata, they get as much as a ton of matured fish which can be sold for as much as 50,000 rupiah ($125). === [PDF page 122] === Fish pond farming is so profitable that one local fish pond owner often confused "getting fish" (ambil ikan) with "getting money" (ambil uang) whenever he talked about fish farming. In the capitalistic cash economic system, fish farming thus provides the peasantry with a valuable source of regular cash income. Many young couples thus would eat little, save money, and hope to buy a small fish pond sometime even before purchasing a rice field. Some of them who have successfully acquired fish ponds have escaped the rounds of the rural poverty cycle, but the inflation of land prices has made them inaccessible to most poor rural peasants. Where fresh and clean water is accessible, like in Cipari, people have converted village ground into fish ponds and made a successful economic recovery. B. The Fragmentation of Landholding in Cipari A study of the changes in land tenure around Cipari for the past century or so indicates some significant trends in the recent rural economy: rapid fragmentation of land on one hand, and increased absentee landownership on the other. The agricultural land around Cipari is by no means the best in the region. Before the introduction of fertilizer, an average rice field as large as 100 bata yields 400 kg at most and even after the fertilizer is used, it yields 800 kg at best. In the Wanaraja, Babedahan and Cinunuk areas it yields as much as 1200 kg. Because of the lesser quality of the soil, availability of uncultivated land elsewhere, and the fairly small population, the process of rapid land fragmentation and accumulation of land by the limited few did not begin to take place until around the turn of the last century. The impact of the cash economy and the population increase in this century, however, have rapidly advanced both processes: === [PDF page 123] === Ill half of the land in Cipari has disappeared into the hands of absentee landowners and what is left has fragmented since into numerous tiny plots ranging from 20 to 200 bata. The impact of the cash economy and the pressures upon land holdings have manifold manifestations, but the most critical one of all has been the lack of economic opportunities other than small-scale agricultural practices for adult males in the rural reas. The practice of endogamy, with an intention to preserve ancestral property, has been overrun by the increase of population as the result of serial polygamy and repeated marriages. While after every generation the landholding decreased, the total amount left by the villagers did not remain constant. For example, around the turn of the last century, Haji Harumaen, the chosen heir to the institution of the ulamas' family, owned at least 1673 bata not counting those which were sold by him before his death; but in 1973 his descendants owned only a little over half (872 bata), and the economically most productive forms of land, fish ponds and rice fields (540 bata) had been lost to unrelated outsiders. The same process took place with regard to the land originally owned by Harumaen's eldest brother, Hasan. Out of 542 bata originally owned by him, 330 bata fell into the hands of absentee landowners from Cinunuk, north of Wanaraja. The agriculturally and commercially most productive land usually falls to absentee landowners, in contrast to village ground for houses, which is usually sold to kinsmen, because the sellers need a large sum of cash, in the case of Cipari, for making a haji to Mecca or to support a political movement (refer to Table 17 and Figures 14 through 18). === [PDF page 124] === 112 Table 17 Land Fragmentation in Cipari Land use and size A. Enti (total 460 bata) Abdul Manap(s) Abdul Manap(s) Abdul Manap(s) Marzuki(s) Ecoh(d) Wikarta(s) Sukaerah(d) Encum(d) Ismael Marzuki(s) Suwaji(b) Atmaja = 50 = 150 Wikarta(s) 35 43 40 33 Ijot(d) # 100 All Muktar(h) Suwaji(s) Mansyur X 10 B. Harumaen (total 1,673 bata, 2 1/3 hectares) Mutia(w) Ecin(d) #X 450 Erum(d) #X 50 Ejeh(d) Mansyur # 30 Ecin # 23 ====== Asep X 50 # 65 # 60 Badar ====== Darta X 70 Ecin(d) # 70 Ejeh(d) Patoni ===== Danhur # 20 Mae ===== Pilot = 75 — E r u m = 100 Mutia(w) Sakina(z) Masduki(s) X 35 Hani pa(d) Qudus(s) Sukaesih(w) #X 150 Ona(d) ====== Jaroni Ebah(d) - 50 Ebah(d) = 150 Aisya Bakar(s) # 60 === [PDF page 125] === 113 Table 17 (continued) Land use and size C. Hasan (total 542 bata) = Dann> Bahrudin(h) X 50 Soma Eno/ Bustomi Sulaha - 46 Abdulgani(h) Mama(w)— J a d l d # 1 3 0 # 90 Ota ( t o t a l 425 bata) Atmaja(s) Ela(d) Ema(w) Ende Kelo(d) Murhana(d) Enda(d) Nono(d) Nono/Kelo/Enda Dame(h) Imong (total 50 bata) Harumaen(b) Koyum (son of Nono) Patoni(h) Nono — Osih X 25 X 15 = 80 u io n 100 # 20 Imu(d. of Imong)... Ijot(d) X 50 Aah(d) Wahdar(s)..Ganda(w) F. Jumia (total 140 bata) Erot(d) Enah(d) Yaya(d) Dakoni G. Sewi (total 58 bata) Emoh(d) Uminah(d) H. Acih. (total 60 bata) Emi(d) Murta(d) Madroi(h) Mina(d) Use X= 100 X 30 X 50 X 20 # 40 === [PDF page 126] === 114 Table 17 (continued) Land use and size I. Endut (total 55 bata) Patma(d) Bakri J. Jenol (total 28 bata) K. Kisa (total 30 bata) Tawian (brother-in-law of Samsudin, father to A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J and K) Emi(d) ===== Subaki ===== Enjoh ===== Holil Key_ inherited (s) by sons (d) by daughters (w) by wives (h) by husbands (b) by brothers (z) by sisters sold to related villagers ===== sold to unrelated villagers or nearby villagers sold to absentee non-villagers Land use: X - dry land either for houses or gardens # - fish ponds - - sawah, wet rice agricultural land Size: 700 bata = 1 hectare 55 28 30 60 === [PDF page 127] === 775 FIGURE 14 LAND TENURE: 1900 === [PDF page 128] === 116 FIGURE 15 LANDTENURE:1930 === [PDF page 129] === 117 WlMRTA> Absentee "Landowner e db Owned by Villagers HGURE 16 LANDTENURE.-1950 === [PDF page 130] === 118 FIGURE 17 LAND TENURE:1960 === [PDF page 131] === 119 FIGURE 18 LAND TENURE: 1970 === [PDF page 132] === 120 Before 1940 the only means of acquiring land was through inheritance or "reward". Rewards were given to individuals accepting the guilt for disobeying the government's instructions to report the deaths of persons during the early part of 1930 when an epidemic swept through Java. The Colonial government ordered that every death must be reported and every deceased person's body had to be given an injection to prevent further spread of the suspected epidemic. But the practice was against the Islamic law. Facing the conflict between religious and administrative instructions, local Muslems avoided reporting their deceased relatives until a month after the fact, by which time they could tell whether the deceased had died of the epidemic. To enforce the law, the local government sought the man responsible from each family. If the deceased man was the head of the family, then usually his affinal kinsmen accepted the charge and went to prison, but when they came out, they were rewarded by the family with a plot of land. Since the government sentenced these men heavily because of repeated resistance by the villagers, they acquired faily large-sized property at the end of their prison term. This was how Usman and Bakri, neither of whom had been landed before then, acquired property. However, since the 1940's when new economic opportunities were opened to adult male villagers, the declining rural economy which had been based on landownership has altered a little. The villagers began to take a advantage of the cash economy in rural areas and urban centers. I will discuss the changing pattern of the cash economy for the remainder of this chapter. === [PDF page 133] === 121 C. Sources of Cash Presently one-half of all of the families in Cipari own none or less than 50 bata (1/14 hectare) of arable land. Even a family of five owning a 50 bata rice field would not be able to subsist on the yield, about 400 kg at best a season. Consequently, the majority of the families in Cipari must look for means of income elsewhere. 1. Sharecropping In West Java, sharecropping is no longer a popular practice because the land fragmentation has reduced the number of sizable landowners and the limited number of large landowners prefer well-experienced, skilled sharecroppers in order to make maximum yields and profits. Consequently, the young and landless peasants are automatically excluded. Furthermore, it is not economical for less-skilled farmers to engage in sharecropping with their kin and friends on a small plot of land, for wet rice agriculture involves unpredictable factors deriving from skills, climate, and soil quality, as shown in previous sections. Depending upon the skill of the sharecropper, the landowner has the privilege of choosing one of two locally practiced systems. The skilled sharecroppers usually engage in a system called maro or tengah (half and half). According to this system, the landowner provides the sharecropper with seeds or paddy, tools, and half the amount of fertilizer, while the sharecropper must pay all the expenses for hiring farm hands and provide the other half of the fertilizer. If carp is raised in the wet rice field along with paddy, then it is the landowner who provides the baby carp. As the name of the system indicates, both the fish and the rice are equally divided between the landowner and the sharecropper. === [PDF page 134] === 122 When the sharecropper is not an established farmer himself, or the land 1s extremely productive, the landowner may demand a different ratio in his favor at the time of the contract. If the land is poor, on the other hand, sharecroppers have a better bargaining position and may claim 6 to 4 in their favor. In either case, however, the share-cropper cannot obtain as much profi t as maro tenants. The other system called sewa (rent) is extremely unfavorable to the tenants. According to the system, the landowner, being unsure of the skill of his tenants, makes a set amount of claim as "rent" at the time the contract is made. For example, a landowner may set up a limit of 350 kilograms as his "rent" out of a 100 bata rice field. When the harvest fails for whatever reasons, the tenant will be left with a debt to the landowner for the set amount. Because of the obvious disadvantage, skilled farmers avoid this kind of contract, and it is usually the less-skilled farmers that are engaged in it. Since the expense runs high and it takes both time and labor, sharecropping is not very profitable. An experienced maro sharecropper working on a large plot of land, however, brings in a sizable income, as shown in Table 18. 2. Other Local Sources of Income Since the Sundanese build their houses off the ground, practically every household raises chickens. But they are seldom raised systematically for commercial purposes. Industrious peasants also raise ducks but they are destined solely for commercial purposes at the local market. The most profitable livestock, however, are goats and water buffalo. Goats can graze on harvested rice fields during part of the year, and do not cost much to feed, while they can be sold for a few thousand rupiah. Water === [PDF page 135] === 123 Table 18 Maro Tenants' Expenses and Profits for 100 Bata (in rupiah) EXPENSES Farm hands: Ploughing (male) Planting (female) Weeding (first) Weeding (second) Fertilizer 13 manpower days 3 manpower days 3 manpower days 1 manpower day 910 105 105 35 25 kilograms 700 1830 Total expenses PROFITS Harvested crop Fish raised 300 to 400 kg, (in 1973) sold for 8 to 10 kg each x 3 times sold for Total income 16,000 7,500 23,500 buffalos, on the other hand, cost a lot to feed but can make a profitable income at the beginning of each agricultural season by ploughing. An animal can earn as much as 400 rupiah (a dollar) a day. For most landless peasants, however, water buffalo are too expensive to raise. Tangerine oranges are used to constitute the most profitable fruit crop 1n the district of Garut, but since 1960 most of the tangerine orange trees have been destroyed by some unknown disease apparently brought in by Siamese oranges. Today such plantation crops as bananas, mangos, jackfruit, avocado, coconut, and petai make up only a minor part of the cash economy since they are raised around rice fields and fish ponds. Some women make soy sauce for profit and domestic consumption. The technique of making soy sauce was introduced into the village by the kijaji's wife during the revolution when the family came as refugees from Wanaraja. === [PDF page 136] === 124 The technique quickly spread around the village. It takes several months for the soy bean to ferment, but when the fermentation is complete, this product brings in a considerable amount of supplemental income to the villagers. Such finished food products as tempe (soy product) and kropok (made from cassava or rice flour) can be productive, but they require a constant flow of clean water. At the time I was about to leave the village, one of the villagers was completing a tempe factory near a large pond. Again it is costly for any peasant unless several families pool their capital together. One family in Cipari, descendants of Pingirsari, makes bricks on their dry and non-productive land. The red clay necessary to make bricks can be found easily. They make as many as 70,000 bricks at a time, and though it takes a long time to sell them, the owner can make as much as 42,000 rupiah when all of them are sold. Another important home industry is bamboo handicrafts. Many years of experience are necessary to acquire this skill, but a few old men of the village are capable of making finely woven bamboo baskets, strainers, rice steamers, water-tight baskets for carrying fish, and bamboo wall mats. A tightly woven basket can be sold for as much as 1,000 rupiah, but the bamboo itself is quite expensive, ranging from 100 to 400 rupiah. For the elderly men of the village, the bamboo crafts make up an important source of cash income during off-agricultural seasons. These men also work as carpenters making as much as 400 rupiah a day. Due to the low standard of educational background among the majority of adult male members of the village, there is only one white collar wage earner. He is a teacher at the local school and he makes as much as 10,000 rupiah a month. During afternoons when he does not teach, he works selling fish around the neighboring villages. Because of the regularity of the === [PDF page 137] === 125 Income and security of the job, most young boys and girls attending schools now hope to acquire white collar jobs. Another form of regular income is government pensions. There are 12 pension recipients in the village, who participated in party politics before Independence (called Perintis Merdeka) and there are another four retired army veterans and teachers. The average amount of pension runs from 3,500 to 5,000 rupiah a month. But most recipients are older members of the village with more than a few plots of land and are generally better-off than non-pension villagers as shown in Table 19. 3. Wage Labor Most locally available sources of income are in reality inaccessible to the unskilled and landless younger members of the village. Traditionally, when a young villager married and started his family, he had to begin as a laborer. The old men of the village say that when they were young, they used to work as farm laborers, but such jobs were limited to only the beginning and the end of the agricultural seasons. During off-agricultural seasons, they peddled fish and made 10 percent profit from the sale. It was during this period that young members of the village began acquiring crafts and skills by associating with other vendors, fish farmers, and rice growers and by watching their fathers and grandfathers at work as carpenters and bamboo craftsmen. As years went by, they gradually accumulated enough capital to purchase a small plot of land and a fish pond and start their own businesses. Today the same spirit of economic assertiveness and achievement orientation is still alive among the new generation, but it is practiced in the cities rather than in their home territories as their fathers used to do. A total of 29 married men of the village (14 heads of households, === [PDF page 138] === u> sc o 4-> sE ta o stO CO i — Li_ Q. <u ta voco S-J2 o LO t-» to in O O O O to «*• co oo T3 to -r- J 3 o m o o LDOOLD o o o o o o o i f l o o o i n o i n o i c o o o o o CM oOLorv. CM LO o to CMCO o o m n o o o m o o o ir> m « d - o tr>cMf»» o o o o o o m o o o o o o o o o o o o CMOO cor^co c ro "O to o. tr> cr> **• r>* r««cOvoif)r^LOOLo r - m I - N CM «O N O O CO o r » i n m cMinr^vor^vococncoiocn t— •— r - u > c o c v i o u n o inooior^r^LncMrs.r>»t— to zz •ojco«3-ir>ior^cocT> C M c o « ^ - i r j t o r ^ c o c n o » — C M C O « * L O I O r ^ c o o o t — cMco«*mco r^co c n o i — CM co*3- i n co r*»oocr»Oi—CMCO^MO r— i — i — i — r — i — i— i— CM CM CM CM CM CM CSI CM CM CM CO CO CO CO CO CO CO COCO CO * 3 " «3" « * «3" « * «3" ^T ^t'st^t-IX) intSilOlOUi === [PDF page 139] === 127 2 married sons, 12 sons-in-law, and 1 brother-in-law) work at seasonal labor 1n cities. If one counts the number of sons who originated in Cipari but moved out after marriage(ll), sons-in-law of married daughters who moved out (19), and unmarried sons (10), the total number of seasonal laborers working in the cities would come to as many as 69 men. All of them work in West Java Province: 45 in Jakarta, 18 in Bandung, and 6 in Tasikmalaya. What has made seasonal labor a successful economic operation derives from their skilled labor which requires little capital to start in business. Twenty-five people specialize in shoe repairing, 28 people in watch repairing, and 3 in tailoring. There are only 13 men working as street vendors selling food and drinks. Street vendors selling eggs, chickens and salted fish need 3,000 to 4,000 rupiah a day to purchase merchandise; but shoe repairmen need only a few hundred rupiah for leather, rubber, and glues and watch repairmen do not have any more expenses after they acquire their tools. This is another reason why most young men prefer the watch repairing business to shoe repairing. The profit is also promising: one pair of shoes may run between 150 and 200 rupiah, but a watch repairman makes about 100 more from one order. Once they accumulate enough capital, watch repairmen can also engage in the retailing of second-hand watches. Since the introduction of vinyl shoes, the shoe repairing business has declined. Many landless peasants who engage in seasonal labor return home during the agricultural seasons, some to work in their own rice fields but most to work as farmhands. A day's hard labor as a farmhand will bring as much as 100 rupiah, but in a month or so they can expect to make as much as a few thousand rupiah, which is just as much or even more than they can make by working 1n the cities. === [PDF page 140] === 128 There is one family which has specialized in a sand scooping business in the nearby river. Because it is hard labor and there is a high demand for sand for brick buildings, they can make as much as 10,000 rupiah for three to four days' work. D. The Complementary System of Land Tenure and Cash Economy: The Mobilization of Capital There are three ways in which accumulated capital can be invested: (1) the purchase of land, (2) leasing land from landowners by providing a large loan, and (3) a business investment. The preceding kinds of investments are listed according to their popularity among the villagers. Purchasing land is the first priority for most local wage earners, as well as seasonal laborers with families to support. The price of rice fluctuates while the wages remain relatively stable, and although purchasing land may sound like a manifestation of "conservative peasant mentality," it has come to make more sense in recent years as Indonesia has gone through a high rate of inflation. Out of the total amount of land owned by 55 village families (total of 6,102 bata, 8.7 hectare) a little less than half (2,729 bata) has been acquired through purchase or reward rather than inheritance. 1. Purchase of Land Traditionally, the value and price of land depended upon the quality of the soil and its proximity to the nearest water sources; but since the Introduction of fertilizer, the value of land is now mainly based on the distance to an irrigated stream. The first class of land in 1973 cost as much as 3,000 rupiah per bata, the second class 2,500 rupiah, and the land without any access to water except for rainfall cost 1,500 rupiah. It would require 125,000 rupiah ($255) to purchase 50 bata of the second class === [PDF page 141] === 129 rice f i e l d, which would amount to several years of savings for a rural Indonesian family. The way villagers acquire capital f o r the purchase of land varies in four ways. Families 1, 11, 14, 23, 28, 34, 36, 40, 47 and 50 represent the t r a d i t i o n a l pattern: regardless of how they obtained their i n i t i a l amount of land, they have acquired new tracts largely through the combination of their industrious labor, shrewd economic judgment, and s k i l l s. The heads of a l l these families make up the core of the village economy today and represent the realization of Islamic economic assertiveness through t r a d i t i o n a l means only. The amount of land acquired by these villagers shows considerable strength among the older generation. Families 13, 20 and 53, on the other hand, have not acquired the land with t h e i r newly accumulated wealth, but with the capital made from the sales of their inherited land. They do not represent the most industrious group like the f i r s t, nor are they s k i l l e d farmers. Families 8, 30, 40, 48 and 49 are the f i r s t group's counterpart among the new generation. The head of family 8 has saved a l l of his salary from his white collar job as desa secretary, since he already had a considerable amount of land. The land he bought belongs to the t h i r d class, but he uses i t to make bricks and raise rainy season garden crops. The members of the fourth group have accumulated p r o f i t from seasonal labor, fish pond and/or wet r i c e f i e l d income. They are in their t h i r t i e s and mid-forties, and just l i k e the f i r s t group, they are hardworking with profit-making Incentives. The r i c e fields which they have purchased have secured their families' subsistence, and they w i l l add plot by plot to raise commercial crops with the p r o f i t earned i n the c i t i e s. The source of capital accumulation may d i f f e r between the f i r s t and the last group, but the mechanism === [PDF page 142] === 130 through which they endeavor to multiply property is the same, and is essentially traditional in nature in the sense that it is closely associated with land ownership, the securest but most uninnovative way of capital investment. 2. Gade and Sewa, Leasing of Land When one can raise a large sum of capital in a short period of time, usually by selling land, agriculturally productive land can be leased from a landowner in exchange for a loan to the landowner. According to the traditional system, the landowner pawns his land and leases the right to make full use of the land to a loan provider. The landowner usually leases his land for one of the following purposes: (1) He is a large landowner, who has enough land for his family to subsist on and make a profit from, or an absentee landowner intending to start a new business or make a haji to Mecca. (2) He is a middle class farmer and needs cash for a rite of passage ceremony for his family. (3) He is a small landed villager with an unexpected emergency expense. The loan provider, on the other hand, acquires full access to the land, cultivates it, and makes a profit from the sale of the crops, or he may even lease the land out to someone else for a higher loan, or have it sharecropped. After a period of time when the landowner returns the loan, the loan provider must return the land at the end of the agricultural cycle in the same condition as it was at the time of the initial contract. Gade and sewa are based on the same basic system between the landowner who pawns his property and a farmer who provides him with a loan. But in a rather sensitive area, the two systems differ considerably in practice, a difference which has become an issue among the ulama in the light of Islamic Canon Law. === [PDF page 143] === 131 Gade is the adat practice which is considerably disadvantageous to the landowner. The gade contract does not usually specify the length of the contract period, and unless the landowner has made enough profit by investing the loan in commercially successful enterprises to pay back the loan and reclaim the land, the contract may drag on for years and sometimes for decades. Meanwhile, if the landowner dies, the debt will be transferred to his heirs, in which case the heirs usually decide to sell the land to the creditor. Since by that time the price of land might have doubled while the loan amount has stayed the same, the heirs should still make some profit from the sale. By then the creditor, too, should have made considerable profit off the land, certainly more than the amount necessary to cover the difference between the price of the land and the original credit he had extended to the landowner. In practice, however, the seller in such a case would have only a limited chance to bargain over the price of the land since he could not sell the land to anybody else before the termination of the contract according to the adat law. The ulama condemn the gade practice as transgression against the Islamic prohibition of usury, as the creditor's profit from the leased land is regarded as his interest from the loan. The sewa system, on the other hand, specifies a lease period and requires a fixed amount of "rent" from the creditor. It is considered as "renting" the land rather than mortgaging it for a loan. Usually a small fee, a minimum of 500 rupiah a season for 50 bata, is deducted from the total amount of the loan extended to the landowner. For example, a landowner leases his land for 20,000 rupiah for a period of two years, and the creditor agrees to pay 500 rupiah a season. At the time of the lease expiration, the landowner needs to pay 18,000 rupiah in order to reclaim === [PDF page 144] === 132 the land. If the landowner fails to pay back the credit, the lease may be extended, but as each year passes, the amount of credit he owes to the creditor decreases and eventually even if he fails to return the loan at all, he or his heir could reclaim the land in 20 years. Gade or sewa could be economically productive means as long as inflation remains under control and both the creditor and the landowner make the best use of the capital or raise cash crops. For most average peasants, however, it is hard to raise enough capital to lease land. 3. Business Investments Investments in business enterprises are a recent development in rural sectors but are extremely limited as there aren't many opportunities and capital is in short supply. There is no industry or trade which publicly recruits capital investors, and the chances for investment have been confined to a few small-scale enterprises managed by families and friends. Sometimes a family will pool all of its available capital and send one of its sons to Jakarta to start peddling. This involves a very small amount of capital. Large-scale capital investmenthas been regarded as risky by villagers as they hear rumors of incidents where investors have been swindled. This happened to the local ulama during my stay in the village. He had made an investment which he regarded as an interest-free "loan", but the man who got the money disappeared when the business failed. The lack of industry, exclusive recruitment of investors only from within families, and the shaky economy, coupled with the lack of managerial skill, seem to discourage this kind of investment. This is certainly not because of the peasants' conservative mentality, as a few cases of successful business investment have begun to appear among the villagers. === [PDF page 145] === 133 From urban-centered entrepreneurship to rural land-based and nonagricultural enterprises, the current rural economic system has gradually moved to a more sophisticated level of operation. The majority of the landless or small-landed peasants practicing subsistence economy are still excluded from those opportunities arising out of changing economic patterns, but nevertheless a few examples of successful economic achievement are present. I will describe four cases which have been looked upon by the villagers, particularly the young and ambitious, with admiration and envy. Example 1: A is presently a young local ulama. After graduating from various pesantren, he decided to practice business in Jakarta shortly after the revolution, but he found himself a failure. He was easily cheated and too generous, so the business did not last very long. He returned home, sold all the land he had inherited from his father, and invested half of his capital in leasing a rice field as large as 200 bata for 200,000 rupiah ($500) and put the other half into a real estate business operated by a skilled expert. Although he owns no land at all at present, his mother-inlaw's 200 bata rice field which he attends will provide the family with enough rice to subsist on, and the rice harvested from the leased land is sold for profit. He has a pension as an army veteran, a salary from his position as a member of the Garut district council, and an irregular income from teaching at the local religious school and government institutions, and giving pengajian lectures at various locations. Example 2: B is presently residing in Bandung but he originates from Cipari. He started out as a watch repairman in Bandung but later joined the construction business in which he has been successful. He builds houses and sells them to the local or national government or private citizens. In fact, the construction and contractor businesses are the two === [PDF page 146] === 134 most successful forms of business both in Bandung and Jakarta and have produced several millionaires. As B accumulated capital, he began purchasing land; first of all, a large fish pond right outside the village. The profit from both his business and fish pond was then invested in leasing another large fish pond and two rice fields for 140,000 rupiah and 100,000 rupiah, respectively. Then he hired his brother-in-law, a resident of Cipari, as his sharecropper. Out of the 350 bata of rice fields which he has leased, he can expect a yield of as much as 2.5 tons, half of which he gives to his brother-in-law. From the leased land he makes at least 20,000 rupiah ($50) every season. Example 3: C is the son of a former ulama of the village. Since the end of the revolution, he has worked in Jakarta as a watch repairman. With the accumulated capital, he rented a 50 bata rice field for 50,000 rupiah because he did not have enough money to purchase one himself. The field is taken care of by his brother-in-law during the agricultural seasons. The leased land yields enough rice for his family to subsist on so that he can then save all the profit he makes in the city. With the accumulated capital, he has since gone into the fabric retail business at a market in Jakarta. Recently he built a new house in the village and although he owns no land, like the ulama of the first case, he is successful in improving his family's economic standard. Example 4: All three cases mentioned above are men in their late thirties and early forties, but two women about to be described here are ulamas' wives. The first woman is married to an ulama who does not practice in Cipari but is married polygamously to another woman of the village. She sold 130 bata of her rice field to her nephew and became the Tatter's sharecropper during his family's absence from the village. She === [PDF page 147] === 135 then used half of the proceeds from the sale to build a house for her elder daughter, establishing a neolocal residence, and invested the other half in leasing 40 bata of dry land to raise cash garden crops. She gives religious lectures to women in surrounding villages and in villages where her husband regularly gives pengajian lectures. In addition she sells soy sauce made by village women in Cipari. Another woman's husband, a former ulama in Cipari and a brother to the present ulama, is deceased but was also polygamously married. When he died his will specified that his younger sister was to manage his second wife's estate since his first wife had children and was economically secure but the second wife had no children. His younger sister then arranged a business investment for the wife in water buffalo trade from Central Java to West Java with the capital made from the sale of the land she inherited from her husband. She also gets her deceased husband's pension. E. The Ulama and the Changing Rural Economic Behavior Generalizing from the Weberian point of view on the Javanese Muslem's economic behavior, Geertz has asserted the economic practices among the santri, in contrast to the abangan (nativists) being "obsessive thrift" (Geertz 1956:145) and "an aggressive, self-reliant, 'free enterprise' type of economic ethic" (Geertz 1960a:236). But as I have discussed in the previous section, it is only in recent years that rural Muslem peasants began to engage in small urban-oriented free enterprise. For centuries before then, rural Muslem peasants lacked innovative economic initiative as well as opportunities under the Dutch colonial economic system. The recent development of entrepreneurship, which has altered the rural economic patterns, however, owes much to the local ulamas' initiatives rather than to the inherently ingrained Muslem's world view. === [PDF page 148] === 136 The ulamas' i n i t i a t i v e s i n the v i l l a g e r s ' economic a c t i v i t i e s stem not so much from their conviction in "modernization of the peasants" as has been reported elsewhere among the "representative" (Loffler 1971) or modernizing "mediators" (Press 1969, Silverman 1965). Rather, their motives are rooted in their goals of Islamization: They see that self-sufficiency and self-reliance among the Muslem villagers is a necessary step toward realization of Islamic goals. The ulama have preached to the villagers directly and indirectly that economic achievement through (1) putar akal (the use of an innovative and shrewd mind), (2) kerja keras (hard work), and (3) putar modal (the mobilization of capital) is an ideal for the Muslem man. They have also taught managerial and technical s k i l l s to the villagers and have generated economic opportunities. During the colonial period the villagers abstained from enterprises dealing with the Dutch out of their religious convictions against the non-Islamic colonial state, and also because of their active participation in Islamic nationalism during the f i r s t half of this century. During the t h i r t i e s, as a part of the PSII party's a c t i v i t i e s to enable the Islamic communities to become economically s e l f - s u f f i c i e n t, the local party members pooled their money, ran orange orchards, and extended agricultural services to their followers. The villagers who took part i n these projects have obtained valuable entrepreneural s k i l l s from these ulama. The traditional land-based economic success through intensive cultivation of pisciculture and f r u i t crops among the older generation in the village has been the outcome of the Islamic group's endeavors during this period. But the urban-based entrepreneurship did not take place until much l a t e r, and t h a t, too, was triggered by one innovative ulama i n Cipari. === [PDF page 149] === 137 Although there were a few villagers who worked in cities even before the Japanese occupation, none of them were quite as successful as their post-occupation counterparts. One man was engaged in barbering at Surabaya in East Java and two others peddled food items in Tasikmalaya in West Java. The exodus of rural seasonal migrants to the major cities of West Java with their highly sophisticated skills and aggressive economic assertiveness began only after the Japanese occupation. The skill of watch repairing was originally introduced by an ulama, Haji Hamim, who is the maternal uncle of the present ulamas' family in Cipari. He had bought a watch from Mecca, but when it broke he had to fix it by himself. He had lived in Bakanloa near Sukawening, about one kilometer from Cipari, but in his later years moved to Cipari and taught the skill to his three sons. All of his sons started out as clerks in a clock shop in Bandung, and they eventually owned their own shops. Another ulama from Cipari, a cousin of the present ulamas' family, was studying in Bandung at that time and he used to work in these shops. The skill was then transmitted to one of his cousins from Cipari, and then on to his nephews. This was how the specialization of watch repairing among the villagers started. The skill of shoe repairing, on the other hand, seems to have begun sometime shortly after Indpendence by a maternal cousin of the ulamas' family. Since he owned no land in the village, he was more or less obliged to engage in petty trade. He started out in Bandung, where he learned the skill of shoe repairing. As it requires less time to learn than watch repairing, the profession quickly became popular among the newcomers to the city, Most practitioners, however, had to move to Jakarta because there were not that many customers in Bandung. The business flourished for 10 to === [PDF page 150] === 138 15 years until vinyl shoes were introduced. The young villagers today seem to go more into watch repair than into the shoe repair business. Most contemporary seasonal migrants to the cities began their careers shortly after they graduated from primary school. A common pattern is that sons follow fathers and younger brothers follow their older brothers. They do not become apprentices in any real sense of the term because nobody teaches them the skill of repairing or the way to deal with customers. They learn by themselves through following their predecessors, and eventually develop their own business skills. When they accumulate enough capital, they begin their own independent businesses. Except those who have close relatives in Jakarta with whom they can stay, most of them share cheap boarding houses with at least 20 to 30 people simiarly engaged in petty trade. In some of these places residents are ethnically mixed, in others they are all from the Garut district, and in still others all of them are from the same desa village. A boarding house is rented for between 250 and 500 rupiah a month for all the tenants, each tenant contributing 10 to 25 rupiah a month for the house. They do not have a private room or a bed. What a boarding house means to its tenants is a place to sleep under a shelter. Sometimes every co-tenant specializes in the shoe repair business, and sometimes they are mixed between food vendors, watch repairmen, and shoe repairmen. They hardly socialize among themselves except to talk about their own businesses. They go to the mosque and sleep for the remaining hours. Business starts in the early morning. For food vendors it starts shortly after the first prayer at around four o'clock. For shoe repairmen, 1t begins around seven or eight. Some people must walk or take becak to the place of their work where their business operation is stationed. Some === [PDF page 151] === 139 people go around the city to sell goods or to do repairs. These people usually take the same route every day and have their regular customers. The time of their return is irregular depending upon the day's work load. I f they are busy they work u n t i l as late as five in the afternoon. I f the business is not going too w e l l, they return home as early as one o'clock. Most people, however, work continuously, even skipping both the noon and late afternoon prayers. The most desired method of operation is to have their own independent business station rather than going around the c i t y. A watch repairman usually has his own small stand consisting of a desk, with a show case on the top i f he is also engaged in sales of second-hand watches. Many watch repairmen do this only after accumulating enough capital. These stands are found mixed with stands of other vendors, who form a kind of union to protect themselves from street gangsters and the harassment of the police. I f i t is necessary to bribe the police, then the union members along the street each make small donations. The villagers from Cipari usually become leaders of such unions because of their religious adherence and moral integrity. In a similar way, shoe repairmen flock together around markets, business d i s t r i c t s, and government offices. Although businesswise the group operation is disadvantageous, i t has advantages as w e l l, again with regard to protection and also to acquiring access to a mosque from the local community. In this way the group w i l l develop congenial relationships with other vendors, shopkeepers, and residents and they can maintain regular customers. The coolie business, as they themselves refer to their operations, have provided villagers with valuable economic opportunities, but i t is not easy to make a p r o f i t and send i t home. The major disadvantage of petty === [PDF page 152] === 140 trade in the nation's capital is the high cost of living, particularly for food. Many of them eat only once a day for 50 rupiah to save money, and if they eat twice a day a total monthly food expense would be as much as 2000 rupiah. On top of that they need at least another thousand to purchase the necessary material for their work and for travel expenses to go home. On the other hand, a watch repairman can make 1,000 rupiah a day if he has five customers, though an average number of customers a day is one or two. That is why the only way for them to save money is not to go home except once in two or three months and to send their monthly income home through their homebound kinsmen. Some adventuresome ones have since moved to other cities where living expenses and business competition are less than in Jakarta, the nation's capital. Among the young married men it has become popular to bring their wives to the city. Referring to Table 20, it is evident that seasonal laborers are found most among the landless and the small-landed peasants. It is also true that the majority of them are still in their thirties and forties. For a long time, their income will make up just about enough to support their families and meet their expenses and little will be left to save and accumulate capital. Nevertheless, members of the profit-minded younger generation believe that the new economic opportunities have given them prospects for a brighter economic future. The villagers see the differences between seasonal laborers who have remained on the same economic level for the past three decades and those who have since moved from skilled labor to retail business, thus making a quick leap upward on the economic ladder. They are also aware that their economic future depends upon their savings through thrifty living and the mobilization of the accumulated capital. === [PDF page 153] === 141 Table 20 Land Tenure and Cash Economic Activity Household Amount of land (bata) T 0 t a l lype Number Divorced/ widowed with children Nuclear Compound Nuclear Compound Widow Compound Widow Nuclear Compound 0 - 50 50 - 100 100 - 150 Simultaneously engaged in Seasonal Renting Sharelabor land cropping 150 - 200 Nuclear 200 - 250 Nuclear 250 - 300 Nuclear 350 - 400 Nuclear 400 - 450 Nuclear Compound 700 Total 55 Nuclear Compound 300 - 350 Compound 27 === [PDF page 154] === 142 The local ulama have shown the ways to make, save, and increase money by engaging in private enterprises. When the ulama encounter villagers who do not take advantage of economic opportunities in the cities or locally, they scorn them. On the other hand if they are willing to try out a new enterprise, the ulama will extend an interest-free loan. One ulama described in disgust one villager whom he has helped many times in the past but who has never succeeded in any of his ventures because "he never used his mind or worked hard enough." Interestingly, it seems that economic assertiveness and newly developing entrepreneurship is not a common phenomenon in the region. As a matter of fact, the differences in economic assertiveness between villages within near proximity can be seen as a parameter of the fluctuation of wealth and property ownership. For example, a village next to Cipari, Pingirsari, used to be well-off around the turn of the last century. The villagers' grandfathers made their wealth through tobacco and sugar trade with the Dutch at Sukawening. Ever since the end of the Culture System around the turn of the last century the business has declined and the villagers have come to depend for their subsistence upon their inherited property, which has since become fragmented. In time the younger generations have wasted their wealth in conspicuous consumption, such as giving extravagant feasts at rites of passage ceremonies, purchasing motorcycles, and remodeling their flashy houses. Another village, Cipari Babakan, where Hasan industriously converted the land into productive fish ponds and rice fields during his lifetime, has also declined in recent years because of both land fragmentation and the population explosion. Only recently some villagers have begun to engage in seasonal labor like those in Cipari. Members of the older generations who still have considerable property have sold it to their relatives and moved to Sumatra to open new fields for their descendants. === [PDF page 155] === 143 The property which was once owned by families in Cipari Babakan or Pingirsari has been nibbled away gradually by two kinds of groups. One is the absentee landowners who have made their wealth either through business in cities, or by engaging in a series of land leases and real estate dealings. The other group is like the villagers in Cipari who have purchased or otherwise acquired land little by little over the years. Tegalkiang, another neighboring village, is very similar to Cipari in this respect. The village had been known for its acute poverty before Independence, but the villagers have taken every economic opportunity, willingly taking dirty jobs nobody else cared to do, working as farm hands, and following villagers from Cipari to cities to learn the skill of petty trading. The villagers have since purchased a considerable amount of property from Pingirsari. There is no ulama in Tegalkiang, but a middleaged ustad (junior Islamic functionary) nevertheless practices his religious authority as the village leader and pulls the village together in the same way as the ulama in Cipari. Pingirsari, on the other hand, is notorious for its factionalism and the absence of centralized leadership. Cipari is one of those villages which has "chosen to progress" as a result of the ulamas' conscious effort to generate economic opportunities. Summary I have shown in this chapter that, traditionally, the villagers' economic achievement has rested on the Increase of property by their engaging in multiple kinds of skilled work and by selling crops from the land, but in recent years an alternative to petty trade in urban centers, taking advantage of the modern sector of capitalistic economy, has begun to === [PDF page 156] === 144 alter the rural economic patterns and behavior. Despite that fact, however, the impact of the new economic system has not greatly changed the level of living standard, particularly among the younger generation. The development of entrepreneurship, however, promises some prospects for the future. The ulama have not feared that the villagers' economic progress might eventually threaten their economic status for they have always been the heads of their communities. The present ulamas' family, for example, has attempted to restore the wealth which was lost during the revolutionary war and has encouraged young members of the family into business rather than investing capital in purchases of arable land. Nor do they fear that the exodus of rural adult males might bring back the urban cultures and threaten the homogeneous village culture, disturbing the cohesive unity under the leadership of the sepuh, the ulama. Seasonal migrants live in urban kampungs, they do not return home as frequently as they wish, and the longer they stay in cities under extreme economic stress, the more they long to return home. They view themselves as rooted in the village, and they hope eventually to settle in the village once they accumulate capital and acquire property back home. They would not attempt to jeopardize their chances by challenging the ulamas' authority. The ulama, on the other hand, seem to enjoy news from the city. The terrible facts of city life seem to help glorify the integrated social and religious life of the village community. The changing economic prospects, however, have created some anxiety among the landless and the small landholders who continue to feel poor because of the gap between their hopes and the present economic reality. To make cash quickly, many urban and rural people have resorted to gambling and have thus lost whatever they had owned. In Cipari no such case is === [PDF page 157] === 145 found, largely because of the strong condemnation by the ulama of such practices in the light of Islamic Canon Law. The effects of change upon the lives of villagers, a problem which has added yet another dimension to the role of the ulama, will now be explored. === [PDF page 158] === Chapter III LIFE IN A POST TRADITIONAL PEASANT COMMUNITY: The Life Cycle The maintenance of the authority and position of traditional leaders depends upon specific functions they serve f o r the interest of their community. In post-traditional communities, one of their functions has been to smooth out the process of social t r a n s i t i o n. The ulamas' functions vis-a-vis the villagers are not only social and practical, dealing with specific problems and issues, but also psychological stemming from anxieties about the changing world around them. In t h i s chapter I w i l l discuss the peasant's l i f e i n a transitional society and rekted problems. I w i l l show the holistic nature of the ulama's role as a patron of his community outside the prescribed tasks of the orthodox religious teacher. As far as the ulama are concerned, their assistance to the villagers theoretically constitutes part of their e f f o r t to strengthen the ummat (community), in the same way as they have helped villagers achieve eocnomic self-sufficiency. In effect, however, these efforts help increase the relevance of their leadership roles in the new era of transition and thereby, maintain their socio-religious power i n the community: The villagers w i l l be increasingly indebted to the ulama and w i l l comply with the ulamas' wishes obligingly. A. Birth A fetus acquires i t s f u l l recognition as a person i n the seventh month of the mother's pregnancy. I t is believed that at that time the fetus 146 === [PDF page 159] === 147 receives a soul from God. In an Islamic village like Cipari, all the traditional adat related to the seventh month pregnancy celebration are no longer practiced. Instead, a pregnant woman is taken to an ulama and he is asked for his blessing on the mother and the baby. If the family can afford it, they send meals to their neighbors as a form of slametan (peace). During her pregnancy a woman may not take any drug internally, but she can rub her back with locally purchased ointment. No food taboo is imposed upon a pregnant woman and she works in the field just as hard as she does when not pregnant. In the past, women giving birth took a high risk, and even today a high death toll among the newly born and post-partum mothers prevails, partly because the extension services of modern clinics still fall short of reaching rural communities. Traditionally, local midwives delivered babies, but the paraji, as they are referred to, use no modern medicines, knowledge or equipment. In the village of Cipari one paraji is a 70-year-old woman who is a daughter of an ulama in the previous generation, and the other is a wife of an ulama who does not practice in Cipari. The majority of the local villagers still go to the paraji, since they are available any time of the day or night, and charge much less than their modern counterparts, called bidan. A bidan is a licensed practitioner often affiliated with a local, government-run clinic, and she is equipped with modern equipment and applies up-to-date techniques and medical care. Many villagers prefer a bidan to a paraji if they can afford it. A paraji charges about 700 rupiah from the beginning of the birth until the baby's fortieth day of life, but a bidan normally charges as much as 4000 rupiah, which is more than an average peasant family's monthly income. There are some other drawbacks with === [PDF page 160] === 148 regard to a bidan's practices. There are some private bidans, but still the number of bidans is far from sufficient. Furthermore, the bidans from clinics are required to teach family planning to their clients, but most local ulama and the Muslem villagers are strongly against birth control practices. As a consequence most pregnant women go to a local clinic during their pregnancy, and switch to a paraji when the time of delivery comes. The problem with parajis is their rather primitive practices often mixed with animistic adat rituals. About half a century ago some of these practices were still common, but now many of them have disappeared. For example, they used to decorate the room with young paddy, shallots, garlic, ginger, and red pepper to expel the evil spirits from the room. Painted white haspan (a bamboo rice steamer) and white apu sirih (plaster chewed with betel leaf) were fastened at the doorway, supposedly to outpower evil spirits. When the woman was about to deliver, parajis used to open all the windows and bottles in the house in association with a quick delivery. All these practices are no longer found in Cipari, at least not publicly. Villagers say that about 20 percent risk is involved in parajis' practices. The lack of proper post-natal care seems to be responsible for the high risk. Most parajis cannot tell when their clients are ready for delivery, and often give massage to the abdomen to induce delivery. If the position of the baby is abnormal, they do not know how to correct it, and sometimes even believe that the baby is dead, thus endangering both the mother and the infant. After the delivery, the parajis again give massage and tell the woman to sit up so that she can discharge the placenta quickly. Meanwhile the woman continues to lose more blood than necessary but the parajis do not provide medicine to help their clients regain strength. parajis tend to believe that unless a woman discharges a lot of "dirty The === [PDF page 161] === 149 blood", a blood clot will form inside the womb. While the mother is suffering from temporary anemia, the infant is left uncleaned, the umbilical cord still uncut. They fear that if it is cut, the mother's placenta will remain inside. Bidans can provide mothers with both modern medicines and post-natal care techniques which are much safer than those supplied by the paraji. They wait for the time of natural delivery, and if anything unusual happens, they give medicine and transfusions. After delivery, they immediately take care of the infant while allowing the mother to rest in her bed. During the past ten years about five to eight women from neighboring villages died out of mistreatment by the parajis, and a number of babies have died because of insufficient oxygen supply and infectious diseases. To solve the problem of the shortage of bidans and their expensive fees, local health clinics have put some effort into upgrading the knowledge and practice of the parajis and as a consequence the parajis' practices have improved. For example, no longer do they use a bamboo knife to cut the umbilical cord. They now follow hygienic treatment of their Instruments, refrain from interfering with their clients during labor, and allow the post-partum mothers to rest. The minute the baby is born a paraji whispers into its right ear Adzan, the prayer call, and into its left ear Komat, recitations from the prayer, to protect the innocent infant from Satan's tricks. After the baby is given a bath, she applies yellow konin (cumin) paste to help develop the skin, and places a chewed betel nut leaf on the navel, a practice which often causes infections. The mother takes a native medicine made from rinsed rice, vinegar, salt and hot water to help her recover blood lost during her labor, and to regain a normal temperature. === [PDF page 162] === 150 For the next 40 days both mothers and infants are believed vulnerable to evil forces. Both wear a piece of cloth called gurita around the abdomen to protect them from such forces and help them recover their health. In the evenings these mothers are prohibited from going out and all the food in the house must be covered to deprive spirits of food and the source of evil energy. On the fortieth day, the family formally welcomes the infant and celebrates the occasion, sometimes with a slametan feast. The infant's hair is cut for the first time and a name is given. B. Growing Up in a Muslem Community Infants are treated like treasures of the family, particularly after a child begins to walk and verbalize. Except for feeding and nap-time, mothers often leave a child with baby sitters who take the infant from place to place until the whole community is acquainted with the child. Female infants draw adults' attention and seem to acquire speaking ability much quicker than male infants. When the infant is about nine to ten months old, he learns the first word ay_a_ (Sundanese "there is"). One of the attractions of infants derives from the adults' belief that God often reveals one's fortune through infants who are totally free from sin. Adults amuse a child and ask with one hand stuck out in front of the child, "iki iki aya?" (is there good fortune?) and when the child responds with "aya", the adult rejoices and gives sweets in return. By the age of two, children acquire the most important knowledge, the distinction of social positions, and develop a sense of malu (or isin in Sundanese)--shame shyness and embarassment—before persons in a superior position. No religious education is given at this time. By the age of three, the toilet training is completed. In some cases, however, mothers still allow a child to suck from her breasts and play with them. When === [PDF page 163] === 151 another child is born, mothers begin to withdraw their attention from the elder one, a process which is often a painful one, particularly boys. for small It is around this time when boys are circumcised and acquire a new status within the Muslem community. The circumcision is one of the most important rites of passage for boys. Girls'circumcision is usually done privately shortly after birth by a local paraji or a physician. Whether a boy is circumcised or not makes a difference in his status within the community and before God. Ordinarily, boys are circumcised before reaching the age of five, but modernized young parents thinking that five is too early an age for circumcision, postpone it until much later. But children without circumcision feel ashamed before their peers who make frequent fun of them calling them "dirty ones". Sometimes children even beg their parents for their circumcision, but often the parents are financially and emotionally not quite ready. In relation to God and the religious community, uncircumcised boys are not yet considered as Muslems and therefore are not entitled to the same rights as the rest of those who have been circumcised. For example, if an infant dies before his first birthday he is not even considered as a social being. He is buried without any ritual, for he is innocent and is guaranteed automatic heavenly status. But if a child is old enough but has not yet been circumcised, he is not fully qualified to be buried in the same manner as those who have, nor in the manner of sinless infants. The particular way of burial, called layamun, implies the contaminated state before the sacred: Pre-circumcised children are considered najib (dirty) to a minor degree and must be ritually purified with water first and then with dried roasted soil, in the same manner as after a person has touched a dog. === [PDF page 164] === 152 The circumcision rite brings about a public recognition of the child's first step in making an entry to full membership in the community. Beginning a few days before circumcision takes place, the child, clad in a pici Muslem hat and a traditional Malay shirt and black pants uniform, goes around the village ceremoniously, notifying the public that he will be circumcised in a few days. In the early morning soon after the arrival of bang su^itan (a native circumcision specialist) or mantri klinik (a specialist from a local clinic) the operation takes place. Supitans are male counterparts of parajis and operate in a traditional manner without any medicine or modern tools. Scenes of a circumcision symbolically articulate a sense of sharing among members of the community. A small boy is circumcised while the elderly male members of the community hold the child. All the other young children watch from the windows. When the circumcision is over, the parents hold the child on their laps, and greet the guests who bring money to the child. All the guests then join the slametan feast. Like most other rites of passage ceremonies, the immediate family of the person being celebrated plays only a minor role in the ritual or for the preparation of the feast, for kinsmen and the ulama see to it. What counts throughout the entire ritual occasion is that everyone takes part in it, and blesses the child's future as a prospective Muslem and as a member of the community. For the next few weeks the child is naked below the waist and in a month or so he recovers completely from the wound. It is then that the child begins to acquire religious training, the second step toward full membership in a Muslem community. Village children begin to learn of the faith first from siblings and parents. The transmission of the faith from generation to generation ensures the continuity of the Muslem community and === [PDF page 165] === 153 the faith. All parents are required by Islamic law to provide their offspring with religious education. The parents also depend on their offspring for prayer in their behalf for God's forgiveness and mercy on their eternal fate after their death. Religious lessons are given to children during the late afternoon hours after taking a bath and before the day's last prayer call around eight. It is generally the time for the families to relax, eat and devote their time to extra prayers and earning merits. The local ulama makes a tour of the village or visits villagers with tasbe beads in his hands. The adults teach children songs which contain some of their religious sentiments: Anak Adam, urang didunia ngumbara umur urang didunia teh moal 1ila Anak Adam, moat t'aya nu dibawa ngan asiwung jeung boeh anu dibawa Anak Adam, umur urang teh ngurangan saban poe, saban peuting dikurangan Anak Adam, pasaran teh lolongseran saban poe, saban peuting dikurangan Dikubur teh lewih poek mungguh jalma didunia t'aya kadaek Anak Adam, dikubur teh lewih caang mungguh jalma anu getol maca Quran (translation) Adam's child, a man's time in this world 1s only temporary, the time in this world is not long Adam's child, there is no man who brings anything but cotton and the white kain (to bury the corpse with) Adam's child, time is getting short, day by day and night by night === [PDF page 166] === 154 Adam's child, pasaran (corpse carrier) is crying every day and night That in the grave it will be darker for those who are not pious while they are alive Adam's child, graves will be bright for those who like to read Quran Ilahi lastu lit firidausi ahla Ala aqwa alanaril jahim pahabri taubatan waq firdunubi pannaka gofirun thambil athuni (translation) My God, I am not good enough for heaven but I am not strong enough to stand hell Give me forgiveness and forgive all my sins Indeed you forgive big sins Some children between the ages of four and six attend the Islamic kindergarten offered by a local ustad (religious teacher) in a nearby village. They learn Arabic letters. The older children may gather at their kinsmen's house to learn ngaji, reading Arabic books. When the lessons are over, they go out to the playground and play until the evening prayer. At sunset, all the children go home, fearful of haunting spirits. The adults say that stories of spirits are used to scare chidren home and encourage religious learning, but the fear of spirits seems to linger on in the children's minds particularly because their mothers are truly afraid of them. Every evening after six, one hears children chanting and reciting from every corner of the village. Children in similar stages of learning gather at neighbors' homes and go through the same lessons with their elder === [PDF page 167] === 155 instructors. They kneel on the kitchen mat and mengaji for about thirty minutes. During the process of ngaji, respect and obedience to the line of religious authority are strictly followed. While the adults engage in sunnat voluntary prayers, elder children teach theiryounger siblings, mothers teach elder children, and husbands teach their wives. At the end of ngaji lessons, every pupil must kiss the hands of his teacher along with all the adults present in the room to express respect, a custom which also symbolizes the continuity of the faith and the structure of the religious order. Religious training makes up a significant part of the Muslem children's socialization processes. During this period a differing pattern emerges between the sexes. Girls tend to adapt to new situations much better than boys; the girl's position in the family is specifically defined as her childhood is replaced by an established relationship with her mother. Girls take care of their younger siblings, and learn to assist their mothers with household chores, and become obedient. The intimate relationship between a mother and a daughter sometimes lasts until the death of the mother. On the contrary, boys have a difficult time adjusting to change; they do not have any definite roles to play or duties to perform for their families. Just like their fathers, who feel odd in the matrilocal stem families, sons tend to be alienated and become nakal (naughty). Mothers often ignore self-indulging sons. It appears that sons are allowed to play around, engage in self-indulgence, and cultivate a rebellious spirit as part of their socialization process, for the men are to become pillars of the ummat, the providers for their families and defenders of the faith. By the age of seven all children are expected to be capable of reading Quran in Arabic, although in many cases performance is far from the ideal. === [PDF page 168] === 156 The first stage of learning their religion is understanding the basic doctrines (ilmu usurudin and tauhid), developing devotion to the Sacred Allah. They also learn the affective aspect of the religion through kiroat "chanting". They acquire the tune and the proper pronunciation without understanding the meaning of the words or the song. By the age of ten, they have mastered the concept of law and its detailed religious requirements, such as ritual procedures, fasting and proper behaviors as members of the Muslem community, including economic behavior. Even at this stage, however, most lessons require blind memorization and hardly any discussion or comprehension. Only after the age of ten is the Quran translated word by word into the local Sundanese language, which is then memorized by rote. When a child reaches adolescence and is mature enough, interpretation of the Quran is given for the first time directly by the ulama. Young boys gather at the ulama's house or at madrasah early in the morning and the evening to study with santris of the pesantren. From then on, their families are released from their teaching duties. When a child has graduated from primary school and has no plans to continue on to a higher educational institution, he may continue his training at pesantren or at home. Some attend Islamic junior high school, and many even begin to work 1n cities, accompanying their elder brothers and fathers. During early adolescence the sex differences between boys and girls emerge more and more clearly. The boys begin to acquire a different set of role expectations. By then the boys have become regular members of the allmale congregation, and they begin to relate to their fathers with a sense of awe and respect, amidst matrifocal families dominated by sisters, mothers and aunts. === [PDF page 169] === 157 Through the process of socialization and religious indoctrination into a Muslem community, children absorb the adults' religious beliefs and systems. The religion itself becomes the dominant part of their daily lives and identities. When they were but small children, the boys putting on a pici and sarong, and the girls wearing white muslin prayer robes,were only a part of their play, trying to imitate their elders. When they reach puberty and five daily prayers become compulsory, they leave behind their innocent childhood and make their first entry into full membership in the Muslem community. From then on they acquire all the rights and assume duties as full Muslem followers. At this time comes an increasing fear of the invisible supernatural world of life after death, an awareness of their weak inner soul believed to be full of temptations, and a determination to win in the life-long battle between good and evil. The Sacred Law, which they have memorized so blindly in the process of becoming Muslem followers emerges as the guide for their actions, providing them with hope for salvation in this world and the next. By accepting the Will of God for unexplainable and unjustifiable events, life that seems to be slipping out of their hands begins to make sense and fall into proper perspective. Their desire to receive God's blessings (ridroahi) encourages them to ever more meritorious acts, and here for the first time the basic religious education begins to see full bloom in the person's life. C. Marriage Around Cipari, girls get married between the ages of 13 and 18, and boys between 15 and 20. In remote villages they tend to marry much younger. In most cases adolescent marriages are arranged by their parents. === [PDF page 170] === 158 Among all rites of passage ceremonies, a wedding is probably the most celebrated and socially significant event. It involves a community of witnesses, a large sum of money, and the start of a new family. The pre-wedding day adat rituals have been totally eliminated in Islamic villages. In contrast to adat rituals, which are dominated by women, Islamic religious ritual is completely controlled by men. A wedding begins with a procession of a bridegroom from his house to his bride's house. With bursting of firecrackers in early morning, the unmarried girls of the village and all the members of the bridegroom's fmaily, except his father, help carry gifts (idah) to the bride's house. These gifts include gold bracelets and necklaces for the bride, cash of several thousand rupiah, and such household goods as soap, sheets, a sewing machine, and several batik kains. The bridegroom and his wali (escorts) lead the procession in a solemn manner. They no longer use the traditional adat costume and adornment. At the bride's house, the bridegroom's family and guests are seated on the west side, while those of the bride sit on the east. Just before the wedding contract is to take place, a santri student from the pesantren chants a kiroat, and an ulama gives a short fatwah (advice) speech. The contract, called mas kawin (marriage through gold), follows thereafter. A local official from the ministry of religious affairs sits across the table from the bride and bridegroom and the bride's wali, usually her father, sits next to the bridegroom to his right. The marriage contract is held between the bride's wali and the bridegroom, rather than between the bride and the bridegroom, or between both walis of the couple. As the gold and the money are passed to the bride's side by the bridegroom, the bride's wali and the bridegroom press two thumbs against each other's === [PDF page 171] === 159 and when the wali repeats the contract words given by the official, the contract is completed. The transaction between the bride's wali and the bridegroom symbolizes a transfer, seserahan, of the bride from the responsibility of her father to that of the bridegroom by using the money and the gold as a binding force. When the formal part of the ritual is completed, some selected segments of traditional adat are performed, such as singing of a lecturelike song by one of the bride's family's kinsmen and throwing of rice and coin money to attending children. The celebration is over when a slametan feast is provided by the bride's family. Marriage requires a total transformation on the part of men, while the transformation of women is gradual and helped by their own families. For the husband his childhood, free from all responsibilities, is completely over. He becomes the head of his family, feeds his wife, provides her with necessities, makes decisions, and takes all the responsibilities. To prepare a proper spiritual and mental strength, the husband-to-be visits the local ulama, goes through a series of sessions before his wedding, and spends more time in religious activities. To men marriage is a means of acquiring a status of total manhood. A bridegroom makes all the necessary arrangements for his wedding including negotiations of the dowry and procuring religious officials and papers, while his father remains aloof from the whole affair. The separation of the boy from adolescence to manhood is symbolically expressed on the day of his wedding. In this region, a father does not attend his son's wedding, Just before his son leaves home for the bride's house, he gives his son blessings, wishes him good luck, and sees him off at the door. When his son visits him after the wedding, he will treat him for the first time as a fully independent and responsible adult man. === [PDF page 172] === 160 For a newly married man, the transition is not an easy one, particularly under the pressures from living with his bride's family at least for the f i r s t few months. During this period, his new wife prepares and shares meals with him separately from the rest of her family, while he is expected to develop congenial relationships with both his bride and parents-in-law. In many cases the newlyweds are young—in their late teens—immature and unfamiliar with each other, and i t takes a while before they get used to the idea of marriage and their new household. For a newly married man, i t is also a period of continuous malu (shame and embarrassment) as his peers tease him about his new sex l i f e and change of status. At home the thin bamboo wall, separating the couple's room from the rest, really does not give them f u l l privacy. For a l l these reasons, the husband is more than anxious to establish a neolocal household, i f he can afford i t, independent from the wife's parents. Many young couples these days prefer to move to c i t i e s where the husband works. D. Adulthood: The Woman's World Contrary to our image of Southeast Asian women as being independent and outgoing, Sundanese women in the transitional society appear insecure, helpless and faced with a problem of fear and anxiety. Having been disillusioned by post-independence political and economic i n s t a b i l i t y, they are not sure of their lives ahead. The present government's efforts for modernization have been slow and short of producing effective results in the community. The hygienic level is s t i l l low, medicine and drugs are hard to obtain because of the high prices, and the modernizing programs such as family planning and chemical f e r t i l i z e r s have not reached the community with sufficient comprehension on the part of the recipients. Women in rural communities tend to withdraw themselves from the world outside the === [PDF page 173] === 161 community by restricting their lives to the parochial domain of the family and the community. What is more, new economic opportunities in the cities have taken their able men away from the village, leaving the women with the aged and the young. The much celebrated wedding is only meant to be the beginning of a life-long struggle for survival and security. Ordinarily, within a year or so after a wedding, wives already prepare for the motherhood to come. As most young wives still live with their parents, the period of pregnancy does not establish their full womanhood. The pregnant woman is guarded by her parents and given only minor tasks. Towards the end of her pregnancy her husband may come home from the city for a short period until the newborn 1s 40 days old. Only after establishing motherhood does a young woman mature to full womanhood, and join the women's world. Motherhood, however, is full of anxiety. The infant mortality rate is very high, as already mentioned. For example, according to the available data in the local clinic in Wanaraja, during the first eight months of 1972 437 babies were reported born, out of which 117 died within a year (a 21% infant mortality rate). The actual rate is expected to be even higher because many villagers do not report births and deaths of infants until the child is old enough to enter grade school. According to my own survey in Cipari, a total of 375 babies were born to the heads of 55 families (not including married or divorced daughters or in-laws sharing the same households), averaging about 7 children to a family. The total mortality rate among these children is 4 out of 10; out of 375 born 137 died, 95% of which were infants less than a year old. During my stay in the village three babies were born but one of them died in a month. === [PDF page 174] === 162 The high infant mortality rate is caused by malnutrition and a low hygienic standard. The newly born infants are not fed anything except crushed steamed rice before the mother begins breast feeding, out of fear that some blood clots at the time of birth might still remain in the baby's mouth. Even after breast feeding begins the mother's state of constant malnutrition and poor diet do not allow her to produce a sufficient amount of vitamin-rich milk. After four months, when mothers usually stop producing milk, a baby is fed only rice with salt. After a year, a baby is already vitamin and protein deficient. The local BKIA (Balai Kesejasteraan Ibu dan Anak, mother and child welfare center) provides powdered milk and vitamin complexes of A, B, and D, with the assistance of UNICEF, but it is only available to seriously malnourished mothers and infants. The infant care practices are not hygienically satisfactory either. The babies are usually wrapped in what is called popok, a thin cloth of diapers, for as long as two weeks to a month, but after this short period is over, they are clothed in ordinary panties without diapers and lay on a vinyl sheet or an old used batik kain. Bowel movements are not well taken care of, nor are babies always cleaned immediately. To prevent the development of rashes in this tropical weather most babies are left with their buttocks bare. The infants are not bathed in clean, germ-free hot water, but rather in cold water, or in boiled water mixed with some cold water from the well or spring. If baby powder is not available, women's cosmetic facial powder is used in its place. Consequently, the infants are prone to pneumonia and infections. When the infant is old enough to sit or crawl, no particular attention is given to the cleanliness of the floor. One of the duties of the local BKIA is to teach proper infant care, but all the available pamphlets are written in Indonesian which most rural women cannot read. === [PDF page 175] === 163 Children who have survived the critical period of infanthood are still in constant threat of diseases, parasites, and malnutrition. Pot bellies among small children are typical due to an unbalanced starch-centered diet. Their habit of walking barefoot on mud floors and paths, and eating fresh vegetables and rice with their fingers, encourage all sorts of internal parasites to spread easily. The tropical climate and the child's naked association with pet animals such as ducks and hamsters cause various kinds of stubborn skin diseases which cannot be healed easily. Clinical extension services for modern medicine and treatment, on the other hand, are hard to obtain. The cost of medical care at local clinics is too expensive for most peasants; a few hundred rupiah for a shot and treatment, and if the illness requires specialized attention, they must either wait for several days until the doctor from Garut makes his regular weekly visit to the clinic, or take the child to Garut, spending at least another one hundred rupiah for transportation. Most commonly, therefore, when a child falls ill, he is first given traditional folk remedies. The four most common illnesses among the villagers are: common cold with a high fever and upset stomach, diarrhea during the rainy season, skin diseases from bacterial infections, and eye trouble during the dry season. The technique for curing illnesses is symptomatic, treating the symptoms externally rather than curing the internal causes. For example, the common cold brings a high fever and sore throat, and folk medicine is applied to sooth the throat and restore the balance of temperature. When the illness persists, then a local dukun is called in to give the patient massage, diagnose the illness, and teach the family his exclusive knowledge of specialized medicine making. Skilled dukuns are usually men, while the female counterpart is more or less a masseuse. The dukuns have acquired === [PDF page 176] === 164 the knowledge of healing techniques from predecessors by becoming private apprentices. Many traditional ulama also have such knowledge, which at one time in history was essential to cure the patients and acquire local respect and trust before starting to missionize the local community. Most local dukun are respected like the ulama because they charge no fee and most of them have high moral ethics and mental strength as the science is taught exclusively to men of piety and maturity to protect the science from evil use. Some dukun and ulama also treat mental illness and emotional collapses through food and massage treatments. When a child suffers from a high fever for more than two days, however, the mother takes the child to a local clinic by borrowing money from the ulama or the neighbors. The villagers fear most of all an uncontrollable high fever, for a high fever is believed to distort balance of the mind as well as of ruh (the soul), the source of life. Though the villagers are unaware of their severity, the most serious, enduring and hard-to-cure illnesses are anemia and malnutrition. Due to a lack of iron, protein and vitamins in their diet, small children, particularly hyperactive small boys, suffer from nose bleeds, and women after having given birth or having had miscarriages are prone to anemia accompanied by acute headaches and dizziness. If their diet could be improved and hygienic standards raised, many of the recurring and persistent illnesses could be avoided. Mothers' constant worry about their children during the absence of the men of the house from the village is not limited to health concerns. Wives in their forties have their aged mothers, unmarried younger siblings and their own children to look after. Their husbands may not return for months, leaving the family short of cash and food. The mothers must literally === [PDF page 177] === 165 raise their children without the help of their husbands. The absence of fathers also makes it difficult for mothers to raise well-disciplined children. Ordinarily fathers serve as authority figures and mothers provide children with care and attention, but the absence of fathers requires that mothers play double roles. A father can effectively control his children by his aloof and authoritarian presence. A mother must enforce her husband's will during his absence. She usually fails in her attempts, fearing that too much pressure may damage a child's (particularly a naughty son's) development of jiwa (mind and emotion). Children seem affected by their mothers' fear and sense of insecurity. Boys tend to acquire an aggressive behavior pattern, while girls tend to become passive and withdrawn. Mothers' avoidance of direct confrontation with children and their preference to let problems dissolve gradually in a subtle manner, however, tend to foster deep-seated conflict in mothers' minds between their desire to let children have their way and their responsibility to pursue their husbands' will. Many village women conceded their helplessness toward their children: "What if my children suddenly refuse to go to school, pursue religious education, and run away? What am I going to tell my husband when something happens to my children?" Out of this deeply rooted anxiety, the reactions of mothers to children who are prone to accidents and illness are extraordinary. When a child ventures out in front of an automobile, they grab the child and render immediate punishment as if to banish fright rather than to train their children. I was told that three elderly women in the village who are mentally disturbed lost their minds after having lost their first or only child. One is totally incapable of leading a normal life. === [PDF page 178] === 166 The other two are somewhat capable but cannot communicate with others and sometimes become violent. Sometimes half frightened to death, some mothers appeal to the local ulama and beg him to discipline their child. In some cases, they leave the child with the ulama for several months or years so that he might learn discipline. The local ulama who are awe-inspiring disciplinarians can use two strategies with undisciplined children: they may beat the child to make him obey, or make him perform services for the family, rather than letting him shirk responsibility. The husband-wife relationship appears to be distant. In order to stand as moral models before children and mertua, quarrels or conflicts between them seldom take place in public but in their rooms, out in the field, or in the ulama's house as a last resort. All their activities are geared toward their children's welfare and religious activities. Over the years women seem to build up a certain animosity toward their husbands, particularly after having a few children. This animosity sometimes leads to divorce. The divorce rate among the rural population has reportedly been increasing ever since Independence. In the sub-district of Wanaraja 133 divorces were reported against 612 marriages during the year 1972 and the actual divorce rate is expected to be even higher since divorces in which the initial marriage took place before 1948 are handled by the court and not recorded by the local registrar. A high divorce rate among the peasantry is partly generated by economic pressures. According to the local statistics, out of 133 cases, 114 claimed economic crisis and 15 claimed moral crisis. There were also two biological claims, and two others divorced because of disagreement over the husbands' polygamous marriage. === [PDF page 179] === 167 In Cipari, the number of divorced women is considerably high. Out of 84 adult women, 17 were at least once divorced (10 divorced mothers and 7 daughters). Most of them avoid discussing the problems pertaining to their divorces, but most divorce cases brought to the local ulama were triggered by a breach of the marriage contract by the husbands. Women tend to view their marriages as contracts where the division of labor and social roles are defined according to Islamic Canon Law: A husband must provide for every need of the wife even including maids for the household chores so that the wife can fulfill the more significant duties toward her husband and children. In reality, however, the new social situation is such that the women take most of the responsibilities of raising their children, doing the housework, and even working in the field to make extra cash to support their children, whether their husbands work in cities or remain in the village. The reluctance of their husbands to help with daily chores stems from the culture which stresses the value of manhood and looks down on men involved in women's tasks, calling them tikitikan. The religion also puts the priority on the men's role in the field of social and religious leadership. Some degree of women's hostility towards their husbands seems to be fostered by their physical exhaustion and illnesses resulting from a series of pregnancies. Serial marriage is common among both men and women, and the absence of birth control practices prolongs the women's period of child bearing and rearing. (In Cipari 7 women married twice, five women three times, and one woman as many times as four.) The hard labor which women engage 1n attending their rice fields during their husbands' absence from the village often leads to miscarriages and consequent anemia. Many women envy widows or those whose husbands stay in the village, shop for their === [PDF page 180] === 168 wives, and provide all the care for wives and children. They say that is how their own fathers used to treat their mothers before seasonal migration became the source of the local economy. Divorce 1s easily obtainable and because of matrilocal residence a wife loses very little from it. Even in neolocal cases, men must move out, leaving wives and children with the house and money to support them. A village woman here,unlike those in some other Islamic countries, can initiate a procedure for divorce with the help of the local ulama. Because of the obvious disadvantages, men are reluctant to file for a divorce unless for biological reasons, such as when a wife has failed to produce a child, or for disagreement over a polygamous marriage, in which case the man is much better off than an average peasant. Within three months after a divorce, a husband may propose remarriage (rujuk) to a former wife, and if he is accepted, the marriage takes place without idah (exchange of gold and gifts) and wali (bride's representative and witness for marriage). In Wanaraja there were seven such cases during 1972. The majority of the village women, whether they are widowed, divorced, or married, spend many hours among themselves, and only infrequently Interact with the small number of men who remain in the village throughout the year. Their anxiety about their absent husbands, fathers, sons-in-law and sons is prompted by a lack of effective means of communication. They wonder if something has happened to them in the high crime area of Jakarta, or that they may not be making enough profit or that they may be involved 1n an affair. Modern technological advances such as telephones are too expensive, costing several hundred rupiah. Mail to the cities would take only a few days from Wanaraja but it would take a week or more for a reply to reach the village. In case of an emergency, the only way for them to === [PDF page 181] === 169 get in touch with a husband is to dispatch a messenger. Unlike elderly women who would not even go out of the village or to the nearest city of Garut, young women with some ability to speak Indonesian sometimes take their small children along and visit their husbands and sons in the cities if they can afford it. Not until they are widowed and released from the care of their children do most women begin to enjoy themselves. The tendency among the young women to emotionally self-indulge over matters relating to their children, husbands, and parents seems partly the result of being limited to the parochial domain of families and the village. Though most adult villagers have very little formal education, men acquire knowledge during the process of socialization, working outside the village and associating with people from the outside. Women on the other hand have little chance to change themselves or the course of their lives, They are dependent upon their fathers, husbands, sons and sons-in-law. As an example, only 26 out o1 55 families have transister radios. Furthermore, uneducated village women do not understand broadcasts in Indonesian, except from the local station in Garut. To save the batteries radios are turned on only when religious programs are broadcast. It is only among the youth that radios become entertainment and the source of national news. The degree to which most villagers are aware of national events and programs is amazingly low. The Indonesian government has wisely exploited radio broadcasts in order to propagate government-sponsored modernizing programs, such as use of fertilizer and family planning, into remote areas of the country, but the results may have been overestimeted. When the present generation is replaced by a new one, educated in Indonesian, the villagers' awareness may change significantly, but at the present despite === [PDF page 182] === 170 their experience in the revolution and Independence, most female adult villagers are indifferent to national events and government programs. Shortly before the presidential election and the first National Assembly in Jakarta in March 1973, I made a survey to find out how many villagers were aware of what was happening in the nation's capital. Most seasonal migrants who have adequate proficiency in Indonesian knew about it, but among women, more than 90 percent remained ignorant except for the members of the ulamas' family and those who made infrequent trips to Jakarta to see their relatives. I also checked their knowledge of local and national political and administrative leaders. Surprisingly, most women knew of the regional levels of administration and knew the names of specific individuals at both ends of the structure, the lurah (village heads) and the President. As for their knowledge of birth control, the result was dismal. Many women have not even heard the Indonesian words for family planning, let alone what it means or how to practice it. Village women engage in only a few leisurely activities. Unlike urban residents, traditional Sundanese cultural items such as ethnic songs, dances, or Wayang golek (puppet shows) are foreign to Islamic communities. During the process of Islamization all of them have been wiped out, largely by missionizing ulama who have condemned them as remnants of old Hindu beliefs and culture. For example, the 70-year-old kijaji in Wanaraja had never seen a puppet show in his whole life until I asked him to take me to a place well-known because of the semi-mystical man who adopted Wayang as a means of transmitting the Islamic belief and doctrines during the eighteenth century. The villagers also feel malu (embarrassed) when caught while indulging in the leisure activities (chatting, for example) or idling away their time. The biggest regular cultural and social events in the === [PDF page 183] === 171 village are the weekly and nightly pengajian lecture meetings held at madrasah. Engaging in religious activities is a matter of necessity to alleviate the fear of eternal damnation in this and the next world, for they believe only with good conduct and religious endeavor can they attain the divine blessings necessary for eternal salvation. The village women seek comfort from the ulama for this-worldly and other-worldly purposes. On the one hand, the paternalistic ulama extend practical help to the needy villagers. On the other hfnd, the ulama encourage spiritual strength and condemn emotional self-indulgence (hawanafsu). The village women's fear of eternal damnation and their hope for salvation continue to perpetuate their dependence upon the ulama. Whether man or woman, ulama or villager, the goal of all Muslem followers is just the same. But men seem to take a different approach to reach that goal, just as much as their world view differs from that of women. Men aggressively pursue the goal by proving themselves and their worth as Muslem followers and approaching God himself through selfdiscipline and purification. We now turn out attention to the men's world and their views. E. Adulthood: The Man's World The village women's fear and anxiety are imbedded in their love and concern for their families. They tend to be emotionally self-indulgent and do not try to restrain themselves from freely expressing their feelings unless in the presence of the ulama. Men's anxiety, on the other hand, is internalized and directed toward gaining mental and spiritual strength as Muslem men, the pillars of the faith and the ummat. Siegel has already distinguished men's world view from that of women among Achenese Muslems and characterized the men's world view represented by their akal (rational === [PDF page 184] === 172 and spiritual strength), and the women's world view by their hawa-nafsu Because of matrilocal residence practices, a son-in-law-tends to remain aloof from his wife's parents, with whom he retains a respectful and obedient relationship. When his father-in-law dies, however, he must assume the full responsibility over the entire family including his aged mother-in-law and her unmarried children. He must fulfill all the social obligations as the head of the household in matters of village security and communal projects. For a young married man however the village is not a place to make a living, nor is it a comfortable place to live as a socially respectable adult man. Throughout their adolescence they have learned that to be a man is to be independent and self-sufficient. But the man's world in the village is dominated by the economically successful and socially respected village elders. The skilled old men of the village can still earn a considerable income, and have social functions to serve the community by helping the ulamas' projects and the villagers in physical and social crises. They were the political activists during the colonial days, participated in the revolution and an organized defense against the Darul Islam rebellion, and have fully proven their masculine determination before the community and God. In sharp contrast, however, young inexperienced and unskilled men have few chances for stable jobs, and unless they become a local ustad (religious teacher) or a school teacher, there is little room for them to play any significant social role or to acquire social recognition outside their own families. Pursuing their chances in cities, therefore, provides them not only with opportunities to make a living but also with the prospects for building === [PDF page 185] === 173 their social identity and pride. The economic activity in private enterprise fits the Muslem men's values and aspirations for independence free from authority, and a successful progress through thriftiness and hard work. Some of their successful predecessors have commanded respect and social recognition from the community comparable to that of their older counterparts because of their knowledge of the urban way of life, their business skills, and their integrity. But a successful business does not always depend upon the amount of work a man puts into it. Rather it is a combination of both diligence and luck (tagdir), which is not in the hands of men. Stories of successful businessmen haunt and inspire, so that they too must see if God will give them good luck and fortune. Some city people say, however, that a quick way to make money is to have plenty of connections in the government and to cheat the system through gambling and illegal practices. The only honest means through which Muslem men can approach their goals is through maintaining their inner strength, keeping patience, and working hard. If God smiles upon them and grants them good fortune, they swear to God that they will donate their fortune for the good of the faith and the community (e.g. building mosques, schools, and helping the needy). They must still accept hard times as God's will to test a man's patience and inner strength. They must not give up hope or get discouraged, for God commands men to pursue endeavors regardless of the situations they might be in. As long as they make continued efforts, they hope that fate may turn toward their goal, as God must surely respond to their piety, patience, and devotion as the ulama repeatedly preach to them. Patience is a virtue of an average man. An ideal Muslem man, however, is a man who challenges the impossible and proves his masculine worth. === [PDF page 186] === 174 Most men, more or less, follow the path of the ideal man, in sharp contrast to passive and helpless women. The difference in their approach to life between men and women is also manifested in their manner of pursuing religious goals. Women seek God's mercy and collect merits toward salvation. Men, on the other hand, train themselves to transcend and acquire power to overcome fate and even turn fate around to their desired goal. The differences in the socialization processes between men and women result in a different relationship with their parents. The daughters without a doubt follow the path of their mothers as all other women have done traditionally. But the relationship between fathers and sons is competitive, but with a deep sense of mutual respect and admiration. To a son, his father remains his moral superior, the ideal of the Muslem man's strength, whereas to a daughter he is her protector and decision maker. Though their interaction is distant and infrequent, the spiritual tie between fathers and sons forms the core of continuity of Islamic ideals such as a high moral standard and religious devotion. That is one reason why parents seldom share their own marital or social problems even with their married sons and daughters, in fear that a revelation of their father's moral weaknesses might ruin this moral tie and the ideal fatherson relationship. Even when sons get older and become fathers themselves, the role of their own fathers as their spiritual mentors remains just the same. Sons look up to their fathers for spiritual inspiration and guidance, while fathers expect their sons to exceed them in achieving higher moral and social credibility than they have done. I encountered several cases in which a man mentally collapsed at the side of his father's death bed. He was overwhelmed by the thought of losing his mentor and of having to face === [PDF page 187] === 175 a l l the responsibilities associated with manhood a l l by himself. reaction A son's to his father's death is comparable to a woman's reaction to her child's death, which shows different cultural patterns between men and women; women indulge in their emotions for the love of their children, in contrast to men's attachment and s p i r i t u a l ties with their fathers. The local ulama cannot, however, quite make up for village men's father-figures, like they do for village women. The ulama is j u s t another learned man of Islam who is striving j u s t as much as the village men to achieve his moral and r i t u a l goals. Men's anxiety does not derive from their fear of losing t h e i r beloved one but from their sense of inadequacy to meet their expected masculine ideals. I t is not so much their fear of eternal damnation as their goal to overcome the fear i t s e l f that motivates them to religious a c t i v i t i e s. The state of mind and heart (akal) precedes their merit-earning a c t i v i t i e s. Good conduct must derive from their pure desire to follow God's teachings and devote themselves to Him rather than from their hope of earning merits and saving their souls. To achieve this ideal the village men look up to the k i j a j i rather than the village ulama, for the ulama teaches agama (religious doctrines and the law) whereas the k i j a j i are men of high moral and religious integrity—men who have achieved what the villagers s t r i v e for and hope to achieve some day. The k i j a j i can provide for the village men's s p i r i t u a l needs. The world view of men differs from women's in this way and so do the functions of the ulama from those of the k i j a j i. complementary. Both are functionally This distinction and complementarity w i l l become clear as we study the functions of both the k i j a j i and the ulama in later chapters of this dissertation. === [PDF page 188] === 176 F, Death and Funerals According to the Islamic belief, death is a phenomenon in which a man's soul (ruh) departs from the body (jasad). It is caused by the Angel of Death, Malaikat Jebriel who, under God's instructions, grabs the man's soul from the possession of his body. A person's soul is the source of life, an element that controls his faculties. The belief in this classification of life elements in man is confirmed through repeated human experiences in otherwise unexplainable phenomena. For example, they say that the soul sometimes leaves the body at night and flies away to other places and experiences events impossible in real life. This is what people experience in dreams. Dreams differ from death, for in one's sleep his flying soul is still tied to the body by an invisible string and can be pulled back by one's will as he wakes up. Sometimes he feels dizzy because the soul and body are not yet completely united. Ruh (soul) controls both jasad (body)and akal (mind), the third element. Sometimes people remember a previous night's dream but other times they cannot because ruh sometimes brings akal to its nightly flight and sometimes it does not. This explains mental insanity: Crazy people act abnormal and without sense of direction or social conscience because their ruh has lost the power to control the akal, and akal has lost its functions. This could be caused by overpowering supernatural forces like spirits or by a long period of mental and physical strain. An insane person is not responsible for his own acts because he neither understands God's teachings nor commits pre-meditated sins. Man's mortality is a proof of God's will and omnipotence and his ultimate power over man. According to the local Islamic belief, somewhere === [PDF page 189] === 177 in Heaven is a tree with leaves on which every individual's name is written. When a leaf falls, a person with that name dies. Man ultimately lacks the power to control when he dies, but he must take the most care possible of himself to avoid exposing himself to danger. A person with a weak soul, weak religious devotion and weak mind is easily tricked by Satan's temptations, and therefore vulnerable to danger. For example, a careless driver may be easily trapped by Satan jjm (Islamic evil spirits) and prone to an accident. A wise and careful driver, on the other hand, can avoid unnecessary accidents and expel evil influences. Beyond that, however, men cannot determine their course of life: some people may die in accidents but still others may survive. This is the one instance in which men's efforts and their minds cannot change the will of God, taqdir (the fate). Because of the nature of emotional involvement with the dead, the funeral rites probably retain more adat elements than any other rites of passage ceremony. Unless a man dies in a battlefield of a holy war, every circumcised Muslem must be buried according to the Islamic prescription, and within 24 hours of his death. During the limited period of time, every detail must be completed; a messenger is sent to the dead man's relatives, a burial plot is dug, and the corpse is cleaned and wrapped in a kain. As with most other rituals, the family of the deceased has little to do 1n the ritual process. To share the crisis of a member of the community, the remaining members help the family by literally taking over all the necessary tasks to complete the process. Bathing is done by elderly members of the village, who know the proper method thoroughly, and a local ulama instructs them. The corpse is taken to the kitchen where the hair and body are cleaned. Before the spectators, the corpse is wrapped tenderly with white muslin material and the nose and ears are filled with === [PDF page 190] === 178 cotton balls. The grave is already dug by a few old members of the community. Finally, the corpse is covered by a layer of traditional ceremonial batik kain. The body is lain north to south and the relatives and villagers congregate around the body and wait for remote relatives to arrive. Before the final procession, the corpse is carried to the mosque and prayed for by the community, to ask for the person's keslametan (safety) in his journey from this world to the world of the grave. The time for the procession and burial is determined by the village ulama. The corpse is lain on a wooden stretcher called keranda and covered by three batik kain. The keranda is always placed right by the mosque as a reminder of men's fate in this world. As the keranda is carried by men of the village, the close kinsmen of the deceased hang on to the side of the keranda, and every mourner accompanying the procession recites kiroat. Decades ago, the procession was preceded by flowers, water sprinkling and the burning of incense, but the last item has since been eliminated because of its close association with the old Hindu-Buddhist belief, but flowers and water are still allowed as an expression of the family's sorrow and hope for a perfect salvation. When the mourners arrive at the site of the burial plot, seven mud balls are placed along the western corner of the rectangular grave, about two meters deep. Then three men jump into the grave and hold the corpse in their stretched arms, while the ulama proceeds with the final ritual prayers. At first he instructs the dead in the answers to the questions to be asked by angels as soon as the corpse is buried. This ritual is called talkln. There is some controversy among the ulama as to the proper application of the talkin ritual. Some say it should be done while a man is dying and some others say just before the burial. The ritual begins === [PDF page 191] === 179 with the ulama's reviewing of the deceased's moral and religious credibility before his death. For example, the ulama say, "the deceased was a good Muslem and obeyed God's law and served the community," and all the mourners respond to this by shouting "halus" (refined and good person). The ulama's and the mourners' appraisal of the deceased is meant to be addressed to the two angels supposedly standing right by the grave waiting for the corpse to be buried and to interrogate the deceased afterwards. The appraisal and response are repeated three times, and the corpse is lowered into the grave. The corpse is laid on its side facing the West (in the direction of kiblat prayer direction) against the seven mud balls previously placed along the corner. The face cover is opened, and strings loosened. Then bamboo sticks about two inches in diameter and about one foot long are placed along the back of the corpse diagonally so as to protect the body from the dirt. The hole is immediately filled in before the mourners who continue praying. The mourners wait until the grave is completely filled and flattened. Water is sprinkled over the ground and a tiny bush is planted at its head. Other than that no grave stone or adornment is prepared. The villagers take death as a matter of fact, and as they participate in it, funerals are conducted in a detached seriousness except for the immediate family of the deceased. Funerals prompt fear rather than sorrow, as village women shrug their shoulders and shake their bodies. The local ulama do not show sympathy or express comforting words to the immediate family but rather they warn them not to let their emotions (hawa) outpower their will and mind (akal) nor to let the evil forces disturb their minds. At the time of burial, before the ritual, the ulama tell the survivers and the mourners: "This 1s the way you will be when you die. The body that was once alive and contained ruh_ turns into an ugly material object, but don't === [PDF page 192] === 180 forget it is ruh_that continues to live either in Hell or Heaven after the Last Judgment Day. Now you know how to prepare for the days to come ahead of you. Repent and ask for God's forgiveness if you are sinners. Make efforts and do good if you want God's blessings. That alone will help you attain keslametan (safety) in this and the next world." Following a funeral the immediate family continues in mourning but the community is now released from its obligations. More adat rituals will be followed by the family. The local ulama allow adat rituals pertaining to death and funerals as long as "belief in one God" is not violated. There are, however, some conflicting beliefs as to what happens to the souls of the deceased. In adat the soul of the deceased remains inside the house until the third day, and by the seventh day will be around panyaweran (the eaves). By the forty-ninth day, the soul has departed the house but still hovers around the front yard. On each of these days, the family, if they can afford it, gives feasts and welcomes guests to the house. Instead of such adat customs as making offerings, and burning incense, the family asks an ulama to pray on behalf of the deceased. If the family is wealthy and the deceased was an influential figure, they celebrate the one hundredth day, the first anniversary (menak) and the one thousandth day (neu). Poor families may only celebrate the forty-ninth day and the anniversary by Inviting their kinsmen. According to Islamic teachings, however, the soul of the deceased will not wander around the house. Until the burial is completed, the soul lingers around the corpse and still retains bodily senses. That is why, according to the prescription, the deceased body may not be harmed in any way, not even by being given an injection. Once the corpse is buried and the steps of the mourners leave the graveside, two angels, Munkar and Manakil, will === [PDF page 193] === 181 visit the grave. There is a controversy as to what happens then to the corpse. The local ulama say that the soul will be united with the body and the corpse will arise to receive the angels. The modernists, on the other hand, claim that it is ruh, the soul, that will be interrogated. The questions asked include the names of his religion, God, holy book, prophet and the direction of his prayers. The angels will also review the person's good and bad conduct before his death. If a person fails to answer properly and his bad conduct weighs more than his good conduct, the angels beat the man with a club and his soul is immediately dispatched to the lowest place of the universe, called Sidjin. If the person has a good life according to Islamic teachings and his answers were correct, then the grave will be widened and given light so that he will not remain in the dark. The person's soul will be lifted up into the sky and placed in Illyyin where it will rest in comfort. His soul will also be allowed to visit his body on Thursday nights when Muslem followers will pray on his behalf. A person's soul in Sidjin feels like a prisoner; he must wait there without any freedom to visit his grave where his corpse lies without any light. On the last judgment day, the souls in Illyyin will go to Heaven, whereas those in Sidjin go to Hell (see Figure 25, p.273). There are some exceptions to the rule. People who died for the Islamic cause in a holy war are privileged to an automatic entry to Illyyin and later to Heaven without any proper burial rituals or going through the two angels' examination, because their sins are completely forgiven. People who died between Thursday night and Friday evening are also exempt from the questioning because God allows only good men to die during that period of the week. What they call "Friday death" is therefore a proof of a man's high mortality, and recognition by God of the man's worth. The immediate === [PDF page 194] === 182 family of the deceased is greatly relieved, other villagers are envious, and the whole mood is different from an ordinary non-Friday death. There is another belief that the body of a person who has memorized the entire Quran by heart will not deteriorate even after his death. This is an important concern for the Muslem villagers, as they fear nothing more than the physical abuse in Hell. I was amazed by a response from one ulama when I told a story of a Chinese noble woman recently uncovered after several thousand years who still looked as if she died only yesterday. His response was that she must have been a good Muslem woman or achli supi (Sufi mystic). On the other hand people who take their own lives will fall into Sidjin automatically because it is an act of self-indulgence and they did not make ichtiar (efforts) as they are commanded by God. That is why very few Musiems commit suicide. The spiritual relationship between the deceased and their survivers is maintained regularly outside of the anniversaries. On Thursday evenings Muslem villagers pray on behalf of the deceased so that the sins committed by the deceased will be forgiven. Each family engages in an act of good will so as to donate the merits from these good acts to the deceased. Wealthy families send yellow cooked rice to their neighbors and invite them to share tea and sweets. It is believed that on these evenings deceased souls return home to join the community of believers. Once a year on Lebaran day, the end of the fasting month, families visit the graves of their deceased parents and place flowers and pray for keslametan. Particularly if it is the first Lebaran celebration after the death of the family member, the surviving family is also allowed to indulge in their sorrow and grief. At the time of the funeral they were not emotionally allowed to Indulge themselves because it would be construed as rejection === [PDF page 195] === 183 and anger against fate, God's will. But on Lebaran day such an act is even encouraged because it is the day of reminding them of the tie with the deceased and showing their love. The care of the deceased continues for years, in fact as long as there are surviving members to pray for them. Although there is no Islamic belief that the deceased can influence and control the welfare of the living, such a belief persists on the level of folk beliefs, sometimes mixed with and even justified by Islamic beliefs. For example, the soul of a man who dies of a violent or unusual death, or who has no kinsmen to pray on his behalf, is believed dangerous for it wanders around to possess or attack weak souls, such as those of pregnant women and small children, to lead them astray and drive them crazy. These wandering souls are often called interchangeably jurig or hantu (ghosts of the indigenous kind) and jinn(Islamic spirits). In the past an offering of incense, flowers and food was made to propitiate these souls, but nowadays the recitation of Bismi11 ah (in God's name) is believed sufficiently powerful to prevent danger. Small children and pregnant women, particularly vulnerable to spirit forces, all carry written Bismi11 ah around their necks. Adult women sometimes wear three tasbe beads for the same purpose. A possessed man is taken to an ulama or a dukun who exorcizes the wandering spirit from the patient's body. As for positive influences, the deceased is believed to exert upon the living the power to materialize the wishes of the mintaminta (those who come to graves and ask for good fortune). This, however, is strictly forbidden in Islamic villages, though sometimes it is practiced privately ' at the graves of well-known Sufi saints and those of the early Islamic missionaries. In Cipari, for example, none of the descendants are allowed === [PDF page 196] === 184 to erect a tomb or monument for their ancestors in fear that they may encourage people to the prohibited practice. Even Haji Harumaen, the father of the present ulama's family, and Haji Baali, the founder of the wellknown pesantren Cllame, are buried 1n simple graves surrounded only by a stone wall. The graves of these two men are visited by their kinsmen and Islamic politicians seeking the support of the village. Summary This chapter portrayed the coming up processes of Muslem villagers, and their life in a contemporary Muslem community. It appears that the basic structure of a comprehensive Islamic community has been maintained and many of the villagers' values and beliefs have remained, but the villagers themselves have been much affected by changes in the complex society outside of the community. Their inability to satisfy their basic needs, and lack of security for continuing life patterns in the face of outside forces seem to have created a considerable amount of stress among the villagers. New economic opportunities in the cities have presented chances for the young men to seek their living but have also created a new kind of anxiety for both men and women. A transition from "the image of limited good" (Foster 1965) to that of unlimited good is not an easy one. Technological advances and modernizing programs are short of reaching the community, and the increased rural-urban economic and political integration has neither brought about prosperity nor eased the strains of social transition. Religion seems to flourish in this kind of a setting. It serves as the basis for continuing traditional patterns and as the source of spiritual strength and means of adapting to and facing the stress caused by the transition. It offers people something to do about their faced-reality and stress. === [PDF page 197] === 185 The Islamic specialists' role as the villagers' spiritual guide and moral support has also increased along the way, for they are the essential pillars and upholders of the traditional patterns and prevent the structure of the Islamic community from falling apart. As far as the ulama are concerned, however, their holistic role is but a part of their traditional basis for power necessary to perpetuate the institution of the ulamate and to further the Islamization processes in Indonesia. The ulamas' motives for assuming these holistic roles are imbedded in the institution itself, for the more grateful the community is for the ulamas' services, the better the ulama can exercise their effective leadership and thereby ensure the perpetuation of the institution. Contrary to many other kinds of traditional leaders who have since lost their power-basis, the ulama have not simply leaned on the "needs" of the community for their status-quo, but, rather, they themselves have actively pursued their own Islamization goals in accordance with change of time and circumstances in the complex society. These spontaneous responses of the ulama to change have contributed significantly to the maintenance of the Islamic system as well as to their own positions in the new communitynation relationship. In the following chapters we will look into these aspects of the rural ulama. === [PDF page 198] === PART TWO Chapter IV THE ULAMA AS AN INSTITUTION The Ulama, the learned men of Islam, have managed to this day to preserve their status as the proprietors of the symbols of Islam.... In so far as one can speak of an institution as formless as this one, the interests of the ulama are inevitably bound up with the fate of Islam.... It is however clear that no group or collection of people is as closely identified with traditional Islam as are the ulama (Binder 1965:119). Throughout the history of Islamic tradition, the ulama have served as the only institution responsible for transmission of Islamic orthodoxy over the generations. They have monopolized Islamic education at madrasah, have held the supreme authority over the interpretation of the Quran and Hadith, and have often emerged as socio-political leaders. Except for occasional affiliations with the state as members of the Dewan (council of ulama) and advisors to the secular rulers, the ulama have conspicuously lacked a unified organization to represent religiously sanctioned power in mediating between the ummat (community of believers) and the faith. Among the Sunnite Indonesian rural Muslems the orthodox ulama have defended the Islamic orthodoxy and the institution of the ulamate against the forces of mystical aliran (cult movements) and modernist reformism. In this chapter I will discuss the mechanisms through which the ulama have traditionally maintained the institution over a long period of time in Islamic villages. Before discussing the ulama as an institution, it is necessary to bring forth what seems to be the most significant characteristic of the ulama. Generally the local ulama have been referred to as religious experts and functionaries of Muslem institutions and communities. 186 In the rural === [PDF page 199] === 187 Indonesian context, the profession of individual ulama is not at all structurally significant. The significant structural core of the Islamic tradition is not the ulama or pesantren schools but the families who have continuously specialized in producing prospective ulama and taking care of the ummat as patrons. An ulamas' family owns and runs Islamic religious institutions in the community at their own expense. It is the family's traditional role to produce ulama cadres and provide villagers with educational opportunities and facilities. Sons of the ulama are given intensive training since early childhood in order to prepare themselves to succeed the family's position in the community, to continue the pesantren and madrasah and to serve as patrons of the community. Seldom is a first generation ulama found without any previously known ulama in his family. An ulama may establish his residence in a new community, or a son of a wealthy family may establish himself as an ulama after acquiring all the necessary training, but all this is possible if there is no other established ulamas' family in the community. A villager who has risen to a position of the ulama likewise cannot practice in the same village where there is a traditionally established ulama's family. In Cipari, for example, there are two other resident ulama besides the members of the dominant ulama's family, but they are not closely related to the latter and thus are not affiliated with the family's pesantren. They practice outside the community as rotating pengajian (religious lecture meetings) lecturers. Two more ulama who were related to the dominant family only matrilaterally used to be in the village, but both of them have moved out of the village to practice as teachers at Arabic schools 1n the cities. The village religious leadership is in the hands of the dominant ulama's === [PDF page 200] === 188 family, and the ulama who are direct patrilineal descendants of the original founder of the pesantren have continued to practice in the village. Reasons for this keen sense of territoriality and autonomy of the ulama derive from both idealogical and sociological factors. Idealogically, there has been a shared respect for the automomy of each ulama in respective communities, and competition has been always avoided while cooperation has been valued. This only works if each ulama practices independently from another. Status rivalry is overshadowed and played down by individual ulamas' achievement and success as influential leaders of the community. Some religious functionaries, such as those of publicly owned mosques and religious offices, or teachers of pesantren and madrasah, owned by other families, are also addressed as ulama, but they neither assume the social functions comparable to the village ulama nor enjoy nearly as much prestige, social status and power as the village counterparts with a territorial base. Sociological factors are probably more crucial than the idealogical, for these involve empirical problems of the institution. All the activities pertaining to the practice of the ulama are non-profit and self-generating, and thus require a vast amount of both human and economic resources. Successful operation of pesantren and madrasah institutions is measured by the size of the student population it can embrace under its influence, and thus it requires both an established prestigious name and a large number of assistants to manage the students. A wealthy family could produce an ulama from its sons and maintain the institution by attracting or marrying its daughters with ulama, but a single ulama without financial and human resources cannot by any means establish a new institution singlehandedly. In this chapter I will show how the institution of the ulamate has been passed down through generations in an ulama's family, and how the family has === [PDF page 201] === 189 corporately attempted to preserve both its institutions and position in the village of Cipari. A. The History and Tradition The established tradition of the ulama's family is crucial to the extent of the ulamas' authority and the acceptance of that authority by the community. The historical involvement of the family in the community affairs and in the advancement of Islamization processes through politics and education, legitimizes the family's authority over the community and sanctions their leadership role vis-a-vis the community. Both the community and the ulama operate according to the standard of the expected behavior set by the tradition. The concept of sepuh (wise elder), for example, is imbedded in the native concept of social structure and defines a leadershipobedience relationship. The tradition and history also provide each new generation with a continuing family tradition, pride and duties as "chosen ones" dedicated to Islamic causes. They say "we must pursue the works of our fathers" (melanjutkan pekerjaan orang tua). Through the tradition the family also passes down proper ways to handle problems likely to arise in their roles as the patrons and religious leaders of the community. An amiable ustad aspiring to become an ulama, but coming from a family without the tradition, does not have a stock of traditional guidelines providing the exclusive knowledge and strategies necessary to raise his children to succeed to his position, to manage pesantren or to deal with outside authorities, and to solve domestic crises and generate solidarity and cooperation between members of the community. The tradition regulates the pattern of institutional programs and functions as the reference point for their ideology and aspirations for the future. === [PDF page 202] === 190 The tradition also provides guidelines for the proper functions of the institution of the ulama and preserves the family's religious and social interests in the community. With these in mind, I will proceed to the ethnohistory of the ulamas' family in Cipari. 1. The Early History of the Family Traditionally the youngest son always succeeded to the family's position whereas the elder sons were expected to move out and establish their own new positions elsewhere by marrying into wealthy local families. The exceptions occur when the youngest sons fail to become ulama, or when the daughters marry influential ulama from outside who can take over the family's traditional position. The present ulamas' family (Figure 19) consists of five households, three in a senior generation and two in a junior generation. They are direct descendants of Haji Harumaen, the youngest son of his father, Samsudin, who himself was the youngest of three sons of the village founder, Zainal Abidin. The maternal side of their ancestors was apparently very wealthy. Rewi, Mutia's mother, came from Tajursera, a village on the hillside of Mt. Telagabodas, and according to the folklore the family was related to Kian Santan, the semi-mythical figure believed to have spread Islam in West Java. The folklore also contains a story of a mystical horse named Sanprani which was used, so it is believed, to make connections with the Mataram kingdom of Central Java during the early part of the last century to organize a revolt against the Colonial Dutch. The saddle of the horse, which was given to the family by Kian Santan from Mecca as an amanat (trusteeship) has been kept by women of the family, and it was in Cipari at the turn of the last century, but when the Islamic political movement flared up in the early part of this century, the Dutch took it away from the family. === [PDF page 203] === 191 Zainal Abidin Embah T Huwuk I Samsudin Hasaif T • J AbkaiX Mutia I u i k HI T*Rewi i.rn Harumaen Bustomi AbBcH<?r#Inam Komanudin Sidik Kisa* cte Gede Ejeh A*6 Ecin A Baali Adra K i j a j i Yusuf Erum Ejeh(Family Ecinhead) Mansyur Ai—l—iQudis KEYS -deceased C^A - moved in or out of village - present leading members of the family FIGURE 19 The Ulamas' Family: Kinship and Marriage The ulamas' family in Cipari s t i l l maintains some family ties with Tajursera, and villagers from that community s t i l l attend the pengajian lectures in Cipari every Tuesday. The children of the family also believe that the descendants of Kian Santan have an unmistakable mark, a t i n t of red in the eye, which makes them gagah (fearless) and courageous leaders of Islamic movements. In the last half of the last century the descendants of Zainal Abidin were at the peak of their expansion. The expansion of the family reached i t s peak around the turn of the last century, which coincided with the === [PDF page 204] === 192 Reformist period in Islamic History. Samsudin practiced his profession only at his madrasah in Cipari, assisted by two of his younger sons, Jenc' and Harumaen. His elder son, Kisa, was engaged in an "oporasi" (missionvg) tour giving lectures at various places in West Java. Samsudin's eldest son, Hasan, never became an ulama himself but assisted his younger brothe-s' enterprise in Cipari financially. In later years he opened pesantren in his village of Cipari Babakan, and despite the family's wealth, the pesar.ren did not last long due to a lack of charismatic scholars and was closed in the late 1930's. Samsudin's elder brother, Komarudin, moved to Tegalgede, several kilometers south of Cipari, but did not make much of a success, due to a lack of wealth necessary to run a pesantren. Samsudin's descendants in Cipari have historically intermarried with Komarudin's descendants and there are similar ties with Tegalgede as with Tajursera. Another brother of Samsudin, Abkaim, who moved to Cidewa (refer to Figure 19) and marriec the above-mentioned Rewi, produced a series of successful ulama in the region. His eldest son, Sidik, studied four years in East Java around trir turn of the eighteenth century, previous to his marriage, and opened a pesantren at Sukarasa, about a kilometer south of Cipari. He was financially assisted by his father-in-law, AbBakar. Sidik specialized ir tasawwuf (Sufism) and tauhid (teaching religious systems) and also activt'y engaged in "oporasi" missioning around the area. After his death the pesantren was continued by two of his sons and a son-in-law, but during z\e revolution it was burned to the ground. Abkaim's second son, Yusuf, novel to Sumedang and opened his own pesantren. Each of Sidik's sons became the ulama at the respective places where they settled, but the most prominent of all was Ba'ali, who opened a === [PDF page 205] === 193 pesantren around the turn of the century at Cilame with the property inherited from his mother, Rewi. The pesantren became one of the largest and most influential Islamic schools during the peak of the Islamic revitalizing and reformist period in West Java. Ba'ali specialized in law and he v/as a superb teacher. On the one hand he composed Islamic poems and songs for the common villagers, while at the same time with his scientific and logical mind he taught fiqih, the science of Islamic law, exclusively for other ulama. The pesantren was burned down by accident late in 1920. Although an attempt to restore the pesantren was made, it never regained its previous fame, particularly after Ba'ali's death. During his lifetime, he had been assisted by his son, Handi, and a son-in-law, Toha, but both of them died before Ba'ali and his other children were too small to continue the family's pesantren. The pesantren which once had four large fivestoried dormitories and three madrasah accomodating a total of 500 santris and ulama are all gone today, leaving some remnants of the old concrete bathing place. There was another son of Sidik, Adra, who made himself known in the region as one of the most influential kijaji. He was the exact opposite of his brother, Ba'ali, and an unorthodox in many ways. He never had his own pesantren but preferred becoming a kijaji and specializing in "oporasi". He assumed a political leadership of the Sarekat Islam political movement in Garut. His expertise revealed itself in taswwuf and tauhid, both of which deal with religious indoctrination rather than religious sciences, and require originality and a manner of charismatic presentation. In 1919, however, he was sought after by the Dutch authorities for his connection with an abortive revolt called the Afdeeling B movement. The movement, which was to affect the entire Sarekat Islam political movement in the next === [PDF page 206] === 194 two decades, was uncovered by the government's investigation of a small incident called the Cimareme Affair (refer to Oats 1968, Noer 1973:148, and Kartodirdjo 1972:114-115). According to my informants who were actually involved in the movement, the scale of the plot was extensive involving a whole range of ulama from Cirebon, Sukabumi, and Ciamis to Tasik, and distribution of arms brought in through the Cirebon sultanate. Haji Adra was one of the leading members of the movement between 1918 and 1919. When i t was uncovered and he was sought he ran away to Jakarta by disguising himself "with the help of his mystical power", as the tale is fondly told by the ulama to their children. He eventually managed to escape to Singapore where he spent the next 20 years until he returned to Indonesia in 1951 only after Independence. Some of his descendants live in Mecca, and the family in Cipari is anxious to maintain close ties with them. The families in both Cipari and Cipari Babakan also suffered from a major setback. Harumaen (who had known of the movement but did not take part), his son, and three of his sons-in-law were imprisoned for as long as three and a half years in Suwalinto of Central Sumatra, Bandung, Balik Papan of East Kalimantan,Medan of north Sumatra, and Jember of East Java. Thirteen other villagers in Cipari were also imprisoned, and for the next two years the adult males were conspicuously absent from the village. Kijaji Yusuf, then a young ulama, had planned to study at Al Azhar in Cairo, Egypt, but this too had to be cancelled. Upon his return from prison, Harumaen reorganized the local PSII (Partai Sarakat Islam Indonesio, Indonesian United Islamic Party) and arranged missioning excursions among the local ulama in remote regions, but the movement, called Akbar, was already against the fading tide of both the declining party and the Islamic revival is t i c reform movement. In 1925 === [PDF page 207] === 195 Harumaen built his first pesantren and added three men's dormitories and sent two of his sons to Mecca. By the late 1920's the pesantren was successful and comparable to Ba'ali *s pesantren in Cilame, accomodating as many as 300 santri students at a time. The ulama (from Cilame, Bogor, Sukabumi and Cirebon) gathered in Cipari on Thursdays. Harumaen died in 1931 and left the family with a set of valuable traditions and models for a rural ulama, which even today the ulamas' family endeavor to live up to. Harumaen was known for his political and educational activities and in these fields he was a man of gagah, fearless and courageous, but in his relationship with the villagers he was generous and compassionate (pemurah and penyayang kepada masyarakat). He knew the needs of every villager, and if a family had not eaten for the day, he would send food. The manner in which he was concerned for the welfare of each family was subtle, not to embarrass the head of the family. A custom of offering meals to guests of the house at any time of the day and giving communal feasts on the morning of Lebaran day (the end of fasting) at the ulama's house is also the tradition passed down from Harumaen. He was, however, a disciplinarian with regard to religious activities. Every day, the older villagers recall, he made note of those who were absent from prayers and public pengajian, and demanded explanations. If a man was sick, he sent medicine and food. lazy, then he scorned and lectured him. If he was simply Harumaen was loved and highly regarded with awe at the same time. His offspring try to follow this tradition as village patrons and religious enforcers. 2. The New Leadership: 1930-1955 Harumaen's two sons, Qudus and Yusuf, acquired their religious training at first at the Cilame pesantren from their maternal uncle, Ba'ali, and then === [PDF page 208] === 196 at Sukabumi pesantren from a well-known ulama Sanusi, who had spent 22 years in Mecca around the turn of the century. Yusuf studied in pesantrens in Cirebon, Bentat and Uyublek and later on in Leles and Sukaraja. In the 1930's, the family was again active in the Islamic political movement and confronted the Dutch authorities. Yusuf was one of the four members of Dewan Partai (party central council) of the PSII between 1934 and 1938. His younger sister (the present head of the ulamas' family) was the chairman of GMII (Gerakan Pemuda Islam Indonesia, Indonesian Islamic Youth Movement) in Garut, a subsidiary organization of PSII. His elder brother, Qudus, lead Majiwi (Majlis Sarekat Wal Ibadat, the legal council for regulating religious practices). The revived political activism of the family made them conspicuous, and when the family began to build an Islamic university at Bakanloa, about one kilometer south of Cipari, right by the highway, the Dutch interfered. The Dutch "underdog" called Golongan Hejo harassed the construction site, bothered pengajian attendants and discouraged the family and the community from pursuing the project. Kijaji Yusuf and his followers responded with violence, and all of them were subsequently jailed and the project suspended. The barren brick foundation and framework still stand today as reminders of the past, and as symbols of the ulamas' family's aspirations for the future. After the kijaji's return, the family launched into building a mosque-madrasah complex in the village. The building has survived through both revolution ahd the DI rebellion. Yusuf moved to Wanaraja after the completion of the building, leaving the institution to his brother Qudus and brother-in-law Bustomi, who was later killed by the DI attackers. The Japanese landing on Singapore and the subsequent Indonesia occupation during the early 1940's changed the course of the local ulama === [PDF page 209] === 197 and their future. By 1939 the kijaji split from the PSII party, and since then he has been transformed from a political party activist to the leader of an Islamic socio-religious movement. Shortly after the Japanese occupation of Indonesia, Yusuf began to foresee the prospect for Indonesian Independence in terms of armed revolution. Contrary to most other orthodox ulama in the region who detested the Japanese occupation (Kahin 1952:111), Yusuf took advantage of the military training offered by the Japanese. He headed one of the Hizbullah Islamic military organizations at Wanaraja, used his madrasah as a training center and encouraged all the adult male members of the family to follow suit. During the Japanese occupation and subsequent revolution, the Islamic educational institutions in West Java came to a virtual halt. Male members of the family had joined TNI, the Indonesian National Army, and had gone to Jogjakarta following the Renville Agreement between the Republic and the Dutch. Kijaji Yusuf had refuged himself after the town was burned down by a group of local nationalists in an incident called Dibumi Hageus (the house on fire). Shortly before, and for the same reason, a similar incident occurred in Bandung, called Lautan Api (the sea of fire) (refer to Smail 1964:129-145). Yusuf and his disciple, Professor Musadaad (currently rector at IAIN, Bandung, Institute Agama Islam Negara, National Islamic Institute), his brother-in-law, four of his nephews and personal followers attacked Dutch garrisons at Cibatu and Sukawening, During this period the family lost half of their inherited property to support the soldiers and their families. The victory of the revolution was followed by the Darul Islam Rebellion, which had been started ironically by the kijaji and which was supported by the kijaji's family in its early phase, until around the middle === [PDF page 210] === 198 of the revolution when the Siliwangi division of the national army returned to West Java after the fall of the Renville Agreement. The kijaji's split from the DI, however, called for continuous reprisals from the DI. The climactic attack by the DI happened in 1952, when Yusuf defended thousands of refugees in his madrasah in a heroic manner, recording nine dead and the total destruction of the Islamic institution. After security was restored to the region, Yusuf returned to Wanaraja and resumed his pengajian lectures and his madrasah. 3. Last Two Decades: 1953-1972 The period between the retreat of the DI and a decade ago was marked by apprehensive inactivity on the part of the Islamic groups in the regions. This has been attributed to the then-encroaching threats of the Communists. Not many pesantren were restored or reconstructed from the ruins of revolution and the DI. During this period normal life and religious programs at the pesantren and madrasah continued. The ulama remained aloof from the politics of the new government and skeptical of President Sukarno's intentions and his drive for a "permanent revolution". They also suffered from continued economic decline and an unfavorable political climate. The PSII barely survived, while the modernist Masyumi party was banned in connection with the Outer Islands Rebellion around 1960. In Priangan and elsewhere, the Communist infiltrated government industries such as the railroad, and tea, coffee and rubber plantation workers in the Krawang Delta area, Subang, Sukabumi and areas of absentee landowners' large agricultural estates. Wanaraja and Cipari also felt the threats of the Communists. The ulama tightened local security by organizing nightly patrols among male adult villagers, and allied themselves with rich patron-friends whose === [PDF page 211] === 199 futures were also at stake. Some ulama engaged in "oporasi" lecturing tours, supported by the anti-Communist army, rather than committing themselves to their traditional roles of pesantren and madrasah teaching. For a short period of time between 1963 and 1965, Kijaji Yusuf served in the National Assembly as a Provincial representative of Golkar (Golongan Kariya, "Functional Group", instigated by Sukarno after banning of political parties except the top ten parties in the 1955 election). His intention was to strengthen the Islamic influences in the Assembly, but after repeated defeats of the Islamic groups against the Communists, he withdrew from the job. In Cipari, there was little chance for the family to expand during this period. The members of the younger generation of the family were sent to cities to engage in business, or to pesantrens in Central Java and to modern Islamic schools in Bandung and Jakarta. The fall of Sukarno and the Communists and the takeover by the military regime marked the beginning of Islamic expansion. In 1968, when the government urged Islamic groups' revitalization, for the first time since 1940 they began to restore institutions. They have since built SPIAIN (Sekolah Persiapan Institute Agama Islam, the preparatory school for IAIN, National Islamic Institute), and Tsanawiyah, a private junior high school level Islamic educational institution. The establishment of graded Islamic schools in the village was a revolutionary step forward for the ulamas' family. They have recognized the need of "other" science courses than Islamic ones in the school curriculum. The family sees that the future of the Islamization process must be accompanied by intellectual ulama who have knowledge in both religion and general sciences. They hope to create an Islamic university in the village in the future. === [PDF page 212] === 200 This lengthy description of the family's history reveals that much of the ulamas' family's practices today have been passed down over generations. The family has been instrumental in passing down not only the prestige, pride and roles of the ulama, and practical knowledge pertaining to the ulamas' functions, but also political, religico-educational and moral aspirations of their forefathers. Individual ulama die but the family continues with Islamization, provided that it has all other necessary resources. B. Human Resources Because the ulama and pesantren cannot survive as institutions without the continuous support of the family, the family must regenerate itself and produce successors in the next generation. Pesantren in Cidewa (by Abkaim), Sukarasa (by Sidik) and Cilame (by Ba'ali) failed to survive because the original founders' offspring failed to continue the institution in the same manner, with the same vigor and reputation as their fathers. The success of an institution is measured also by an ulama's influence and authority as a scholar and teacher, which in turn determines the number of santri students attracted to study under the ulama. Many pesantrens faded into obscurity after the death of a single well-known ulama whose offspring failed to acquire the reputation and scholarship comparable to their fathers'. Every offspring of the family is an asset to the family's institution and is therefore subjected to the goals of the family. A survival of the ulamas' family and their pesantren depends on the success of their;,.-.! e offspring in becoming prospective influential ulama, and of the female offspring in marrying sons of other ulama. We will discuss the process of becoming an ulama, and the question of marriage practices among both male and female offspring of the ulamas' family. === [PDF page 213] === 201 1. The Process of Becoming an Ulama Except for the number of hours spent for religious lessons, there is little difference between the ordinary villagers' children and those of the ulamas' family until they enter primary school. Shortly thereafter, the lives of the ulamas' children are filled with "ngaji" lessons from early morning until bedtime. While an ordinary villager's children may drop out of school or may be sent to the cities to help their fathers and brothers in business, the ulamas' children continue with their religious training. By then, a clear status difference between the two categories emerges, and no longer do ulamas' children mix with those of ordinary villagers' children. Children of the ulamas' family socialize mostly among themselves. Boys gather at the ulama's front room and study from the ulama, whereas girls remain in the kitchen to learn cooking, care of children and ngaji from their elder sisters and cousins. The subjects of conversation differ greatly between male and female children; boys are interested in activities outside their own parochial locality, while girls are occupied with domestic and pragmatic concerns. The adolescent girls in Cipari are not encouraged to merantau (go away from home in search for experience) or to attend pesantren, but in recent years due to the change in the need for formal school teachers at the local graded Islamic school, they are now encouraged to continue to higher educational institutions if they show signs of excellent proficiency in religious learning. They are, however, not allowed to major in anything but religion, whereas boys are expected to major in mathematics, economics, or any other field so that they can teach in the local Islamic high school when they graduate. The elder girls of the family in Cipari, who had passed school age before the two local schools were established, were === [PDF page 214] === 202 educated in a traditional manner at a formal girls' home economics school in Garut. But the family's young girls are highly educated for rural women; two girls are studying at the Islamic university in Garut, and four others have graduated from its preparatory high school. The unmarried elder sons of the family have also acquired their education in a traditional manner from pesantrens. They have, however, gone to graded Islamic universities ever since the prospects for the future of the family have changed. Two of them have studied as IAIN and one is in Al Azhar in Cairo majoring in Islamic law. Most current ulama have acquired necessary experience, knowledge and skill by merantauing to numerous pesantrens for 10 to 15 years. Among the ulama I interviewed, the average number of years spent for pesantren training before assuming their practices as full ulama came to around 12. During the last century, it was not uncommon for santris to travel as far as to Madura off the coast of East Java since the number of pesantren in West Java was limited, and they sought to study under well-known kijaji East Java. For those santris, merantau was a total experience, a process through which they acquired their own self-sufficiency. Nowadays, training for becoming an ulama seems much more specialized. They study at formal Islamic institutions to acquire a formal education and a certificate of graduation, but continue their traditional pesantren education at home from their fathers and uncles. Sometimes they obtain merantau experience by joining business operations. In between high school and higher institutions, children of the ulama are encouraged to spend a few years in business to seek outside employment or obtain intermediary teaching experience in cities. Two of the sons of the family spent several years in the well-known Gontor pesantren in Central Java, two others worked === [PDF page 215] === 203 in the Department of the Treasury, three others, including a girl, spent several years in Jakarta obtaining teaching certificates, and one other spent three years in a foreign language institute studying the Arabic language while teaching English. During the adolescent preparatory stage, sons of the ulama acquire not only the knowledge of religious sciences, but also an analytical mind, rhetorical skills, knowledge of the outside world, a sense of humor, knowledge of human conduct, as well as personal hygiene, medicine, selfdefense and the basis of economy, trade and agricultural techniques. Over the years the pattern of merantau practices has changed since their forefathers' times, but the evaluation and the meaning of merantau practices have continued. As Siegel pointed out (1969:54-56), merantau constitutes part of their preparation for becoming a man as well as a local ulama. 2. Marriage Practices The most striking contrast between the children of ordinary village families and those of the ulama is the latters' delayed marriages. While most village children are married by the age of 20, none of the ulamas' children in Cipari are married before that age. It does not seem to be a coincidence that they do not marry until their late twenties or thirties, but a consequence of the family's deliberate attempt to exploit marriages to suit the interests and continuity of the family's position. Cadres for the ulama have historically married late in their lives as a result of the prolonged pesantren education and merantauing experiences away from home, but girls, too, marry late. The ulamas' family attributes the tendency to difficulties involved in finding suitable spouses for girls, because"the candidates must be chosen only from families of high religious === [PDF page 216] === 204 standing and with 'pure blood' (not contaminated by buearucratic diseases), so that their offspring will become ulama as well." The ulama cite a case of one of their brothers who had married a daughter of a local village head; she refused to give religious training to her children believing that they were too young, but later it turned out none of her children became an ulama. This would pose a serious problem to the family, but there are other problems involved in the girls' delayed marriages. First, let us look into the role of young women in the ulamas' family enterprise. Young and unmarried girls are absolutely necessary for doing all the massive tasks involved in the household of the ulamas' family. From morning till night, they are busy preparing meals not only for the family but for the guests, local teachers and those employed by the family for agriculture. They take care of the younger children, teach them religious lessons, prepare them for school, attend the field, prepare tea and sweets for the ulama and the guests and provide care for the ulamas' personal needs. The ulama are expected to remain "clean and pure" and not to bother with menial jobs unless they want to. In short, the young unmarried girls provide cheap labor for the entire family. Consequently, the family is reluctant to let their daughters marry and move out of the village, unless the marriage match is promising and beneficial for the family's activities, When they reach the marriageable age of any ordinary village girl, the ulamas' daughters stop receiving any further religious training unless otherwise attending a higher educational institution, and they spend their entire time running the busy household. At times, particularly after the harvest, they are "paid" in kind, usually with gold bracelets or earrings which they hope to accumulate over time in preparation for their eventual departure from home when they marry out. The fact, however, is that most === [PDF page 217] === 205 of them do seem to remain even after they get married; that is, if they get married at all. Since marriage for the ulamas' family is a way of extending alliances with other families and increasing the realm of influence and cooperation for their mutual goal of the family's expansion, marriages of their daughters with sons of another ulama or the rich are ideal; the rich of course would be able to give more of a bride price and might even help the family's religious programs in the village, while the sons of other ulama could provide badly needed assistants to the functioning of pesantren and madrasah institutions. In practice, however, the sons of the rich or of ulama tend to be needed no less by their own families and are no less reluctant to move to their wives' villages unless the ulamas' family name is unusually prestigious, more so than the sons of the ulama in Cipari. As long as the family can afford it and there is a need for it, they like to keep both their sons and daughters in the village to assist the family enterprise. They are the investment of the family, trained and educated, and supported by the corporate fund of the family over the years to fulfill the family's goals. If there are more than a few ulama in their senior generations who could sufficiently run the family's affairs, the elder sons of the family may marry daughters of wealthy families outside the village and move out, particularly when the rich families promise to build a pesantren and madrasah for them to start a new institution. In consequence, the traditional compromise makes sense in the conflict of matrilocal residence prescription and the ulamas' family's desire to keep their sons at home—endogamous marriages. The purpose of the endogamous marriage between descendants of the ulama is also one of selfpreservation; preservation of wealth, "pure blood", and family tradition. === [PDF page 218] === 206 The practice is common not only in Cipari but among ulamas' families elsewhere in Priangan. For example, there-is a long history of exchanges of sons and daughters among the traditional orthodox ulamas' families in Limbangan, Malangbong, Cicalengka and Sumedang. Considering the small number of ulama in the past such a development of affinal alliances between ulamas' families is understandable. These alliances also serve to exchange santri students, and pengajian lecture services, and strengthen the cooperation necessary for perpetuation of Islamic institutions. The family in Cipari does not take part in the existing marriage alliance among the orthodox ulama found along the northern border of Priangan Regency. This is partly because the family in Cipari is a relatively recent establishment, and partly because the ulama in Cipari have been, in many ways, progressive reformists in contrast to the orthodox establishment of the northern families. The family has expanded instead over a period of time in the southern Priangan, as is shown in Figures 20 to 24, covering regions from Tasik to Sukabumi and seldom touching the northern part of Priangan. Although it is only a short distance between the two regions of Priangan, there is a marked difference in their religious climate, educational systems, and political participation between the north and the south. Between the offshoots of the families of Cipari, however, marriage matches frequently take place as shown in the figures. Traditionally marriages between daughters of rich families and sons of the ulama have been beneficial for both parties; the rich families generally lack social recognition and acceptance by the community. Their daughter's marriage with the ulama will provide them grounds for a better relationship with the community, while the ulama's family will acquire new access to a financial source. The reverse, marriage between sons of the rich and === [PDF page 219] === FOUNDER f i R S I (1800) (1850) SECOMD (1890) THIRD (1930) CIPARI / o BALAKASAtf,4 ERESEM. CTfcSfcMI FOURTH FIFTH LOCATION (1950) (19/0) * CIMAHI KARANGSARI TASIK 207 SUKARAS CIDEWA>£-i SCMANG£N0>O SUKABUMU' TEGALAW^ LEMBFR '. PANJANG o BANDUNG CIDEWA JSUKARASA CI HUN A* Ulama,„ >•= Woman « — - ^ = f A 3 v o d ®»Matn Local A- _rj=Remained A--Patn Local FIGURE 20 Expansion off ULamas in Time and Space === [PDF page 220] === •UMEDANG PINGIRSARI CIPARI ocj SUKABUMI CBABAKAN /ClDffiWA" LEMBER PAN JANG SEMANGEN BALAKASAP ^TEGALAWI \\ ^UKARASA PASANGRAHAN -^>lsi generation _=»2nd generation -a»marrying daughters TEGALGEDE FIGURE 21 Eyioisiiify a m o n g U B a m a s - i: Tia© ffirsa a n d s e c o n d g e n e r a t i o n s I S 5 0 - 1 SO 0 00 === [PDF page 221] === SUMEDANG TANJUNGSARI oAMBEREA C1ANJUR SUKABUMI WANARAJA RASA CiAWlTALI 'ASANGRAHAN PAPANDAK TEGALGEDE FIGURE 22 2: The t h i r d g e n e r a t i o n 1300-1930 === [PDF page 222] === KUNINGAN SUKABUMI FIGURE 23 BAYOMBONG 3: The fourth generation PASANGRAH; 'PAPANDAK TEGALGEDE 1930-1950 TASIK === [PDF page 223] === 211 === [PDF page 224] === 212 daughters of the ulama, does not seem to be popular unless the sons of the rich hope to establish new institutions at home and need added prestige for In more recent years, however, there are several factors working against marriages between daughters of the rich and the ulamas' sons, and, instead, for endogamy between ulamas' offspring. One of them is the problem of an acute shortage of capable ulama in their peak of influence. This derives largely from the historical consequence of the almost two decades of political interruption and inactivity of the Islamic educational programs in West Java, particularly in Priangan. During the tumultuous years of the revolution and the Darul Islam Rebellion, many sons of the ulama were recruited and participated in Hizbullah, and later TNI (Tentara Nasional Indonesia, Indonesian National Army), or sought for other professional opportunities while their traditional institutions were left unrestored and incapacitated. Consequently when the political climate became favorable, and the pesantren revitalized, many of the older orthodox ulama had died and the young ulama were not yet ready to succeed the old generation. The shortage of influential ulama means the decline of institutions, and families which have suffered little from this problem like the one in Cipari, would not let their sons move out of the village. Endogamy and the adoption of new graded Islamic educational systems are two adaptive solutions to the problem of the acute shortage of influential ulama and of the need to attract santri students. Traditionally polygamous marriage was common among the ulama. It added extra financial and human resources to the family, and an ulama was often presented with a bride regardless of his wishes, for it added extra prestige to the bride's family. If they did not practice polygamy, they === [PDF page 225] === 213 almost had to practice serial polygamy because there is a lot of work to be done to run the ulama's household and there is a need to produce as many sons as possible to supply the institution continuously with prospective ulama. In the case of "oporasi" ulama, particularly those missioning ulama at the early phase of Islamization, polygamous marriage was a matter of convenience and necessity. They made regular tours around the country to give lectures and stopped at their wives' villages on their way, and they had no problem finding wives. Among the contemporary ulama, however, polygyny is not as popular as it was before, due to their economic decline and the increasing tendency for localization of the ulama rather than engaging in "oporasi". 3. The Present Ulama's Family and Mobilization of Its Members Besides training the offspring and exploiting marriage practices to suit the best of the family's corporate interests, the family mobilizes every family member for their daily activities. The family's line of authority is well structured, and solidarity and cooperation among the family members is stressed and often enforced under the leadership of the supreme authority. The head of the family, the youngest sister of the kijaji in Wanaraja, has assumed that role since the death of her elder brother, Qudus, in 1965. She has two elder sisters, two nephews who are active ulama, and a brother-in-law who is an ulama and older than her by 20 years; but in financial strength, intelligence and religious discipline she is regarded superior to any male ulama of the village. Under her leadership, a network of specialization is maintained among the family members. She makes decisions regarding the individuals' tasks, family projects, and plans of each family members and takes responsibility for the outcome. Her authority is not to be questioned either by other === [PDF page 226] === 214 members of the family, or by the villagers. As her status is too high, she has no direct access to either villagers or members of the family except for her two elder sisters, who function as a bridge between the family and, its head and between the villagers and their leader. Any villager or a member of the family who needs an ulama's assistance or advice, first talks to one of the two women, who, in turn, relays the request to her. Her two sisters are also responsible for reporting to her what goes on in the village and among the family members. Then the head of the family gives instructions and allocates tasks to each individual for their corporate strategy. If a guest from the outside arrives in the village, for example, three of her nieces are instructed to prepare tea and meals, the male ulama of the family are called in immediately to entertain the guest, and two other nieces are instructed to dress up properly to serve tea and meals. Then she goes back and forth between the kitchen and the reception room giving further details on such matters as catching a carp from a pond, or notifying two other sisters to come and join the conversation. If an emergency comes up in the village, she instructs the young santris and nephews to help the family in crisis and call for other villagers to help. Her elder sisters also serve as a buffer between the leader and the subordinates. If a villager is infuriated by the ulama they will between the two and comfort the scorned. come If one of the family members does something wrong, the sisters will hide him. If something goes wrong between the ulama and the kijaji's family in Wanaraja, they will come in to ease their relationship. The ulama, as the head of the family and the village, knows the best, instructs in everything, but does little in the execution of the plan. The three male ulama of the family are subordinate to the family head, and their tasks are much more specified than those assigned to the two === [PDF page 227] === 215 women. The eldest of the three, her brother-in-law, is not a practicing ulama due to his old age, but still functions as the congregation's imam sembahyang (prayer leader), while of the two nephews, one is in his middle forties and the other is in his early fifties. They are in charge of the care of the pesantren, schools and pengajian lectures. The elder ulama of the two assumes the role of figurative head of the pesantren and the two graded Islamic schools, but both teach santri students and the madrasah pengajian attendants. Both men are also responsible for relating with outside organizations and reporting news of the outside world to the head of the family. The youngest ulama, Bastaman, is the more active in politics of the two. He is a member of NU (Nahadatul Ulama, a conservative ulamas' party), and also a current member of the district council, DPRD (Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Daerah), in Garut. His elder brother, Mansyur, on the other hand, was active in a modernist political party, Masyumi, before it was banned by President Sukarno in 1958, but has been inactive since. Both ulama give weekly religious lectures, one at the railroad in Cibatu and another at the sulphar industry at Wanaraja, for which they are paid 10,000 a month by the government. While the young ulama is anxious for power, intellect and reputation, the older one is better informed of world news, a scholarly preacher, and skeptical of politics and power. Both of them also engage in pengajian lecture-giving outside the village. Neither of them, however, is much involved in the family's detailed menial tasks, as it is essential to maintain their image of "clean and pure" status. Nevertheless, from morning till night their life is typically filled with a busy schedule. Frequently they travel as far as Bandung and Jakarta. Within the total corporate family structure, the male ulama function as representatives of === [PDF page 228] === 216 the family to the outside world, while the women remain in the village and make sure of the smooth operation of the family's projects. Other male members of the family are also assigned to other tasks. Some of them have married and moved out, but as long as they have services to perform for the family, they still make regular visits to the village. One of the nephews of the head of the family is a retired TNI officer and the head of the local veteran's organization in Wanaraja. He not only has a close tie with the active military post in both Wanaraja and Garut, but he also has access to arms. He and his family live in Purwakarta, but he commutes to Cipari once a month, and stays there for over two weeks at a time. When he is in the village he takes charge of village security, and when I moved to the village, he quickly went to Kodam (Komando Daerah Militer, Regional Military Headquarters) the district level military station at Garut, and obtained several rifles and a machine gun. He also organizes nightly patrols. Another nephew has been active in the army as imam tentara, serving as an ulama for the army. Though he is a rank-and-file officer, he is by all means an ulama by profession. He lives in Bayongbong in the district of Garut but he visits the family regularly and informs them of new government instructions, news, and opportunities which the family can take advantage of. As the ulama view the military regime and their alliance with it as a necessary evil, this nephew is an indipensable avenue to the regime. Two younger nephews live within a mile of the village and both teach at the school in Cipari, and one of them is the head of the desa village council, representing the family's interests and seeking to have them reflected in the council's decision making processes. === [PDF page 229] === 217 All these nephews bring their zakat (religious alms) dues to the family at the time of the Lebaran day celebration to have them distributed to the poor in the village. It is to prove their loyalty to the family and the community. All other junior and unmarried children of the family are assigned to minor tasks, such as rare of the field, cooking, teaching minor subjects to santri students of the pesantren and schools, and performing minor roles in the pengajian lecture meetings. Because every one of them is mobilized for the family's projects and is needed, everyone's freedom and self-interest is sacrificed. This seems particularly hard on unmarried adolescents of the family. For example, when one of them,presently studying at Al Azhar in Cairo, expressed his desire to obtain a master's degree in Islamic law overseas, the head of the family objected because he was much needed for the SPIAIN school of the family. She was later persuaded in the student's favor by her elder brother, the kijaji in Wanaraja, who believed some sacrifice was needed if the family project was to expand at all in the future. When the second son, presently working for his master's degree in Islamic institutions at Bandung, was accepted to work for a degree in education at Toronto, Canada, and at an institute in Mecca, he dared not even ask for permission from the head of the family, as his own mother did not approve, because he was the second oldest among the sons and was much needed by the local school. The unmarried girls of the family are equally committed to the family's activities. Some of them are engaged to cousins, but since their elder sisters and cousins are not yet married due to a shortage of suitable candidates, their weddings have long been postponed. The unmarried girls are too busy to pay attention to themselves, and there is little chance for them to go out of the village unless they are going to school, or attending === [PDF page 230] === 218 pengajian at Wanaraja. I have observed some signs of repressed discontent among such young women. Despite obligations and restrictions imposed upon each member of the family, there is a strong sense of solidarity among them, and the head of the family is much to be credited for this. The family does not get together frequently except among the same age groups—the senior generation in the guest room and the young people in the kitchen. At harvest times, rites of passage ceremonies, Lebaran celebration day, and when there is an extra need for God's blessing through communal prayer (berjuma'at) the entire family gathers at the house of the head of the family. Around January 1973 one of such communal prayers took place. The following is a short account of the event. There was a sense of crisis at the turn of the year wherever they looked. A few planes taking pilgrims to Mecca crashed and killed many Indonesians. Domestically there was political tension in Jakarta in relation to the then-coming Presidential election, and also an increasing inflation that almost doubled the price of rice. There were several reported armed robberies between Wanaraja and Sukawening, and an incident of kidnapping of children in Jakarta, in which the family was directly involved. The son of the family in Cairo had not written for three months and the family had worried about the reported student demonstrations in Egypt. The immediate problem the family was faced with was that the number of student applicants to schools they ran had sharply dropped. The head of the family called for a berjuma'at. All the adult and adolescent members of the family, including their spouses, sat on floor mats facing the West. The head of the family counted the attendance and made sure that everyone was present. Then she proceeded === [PDF page 231] === 219 with a short speech about the purpose of the gathering, and asked them to recite Shahadat (Quranic verses praising God), one hundred times. The instruction to hold a berjuma'at apparently came from the kijaji in Wanaraja where a similar prayer gathering was being held. The male members of the family sat on the south side while the females sat on the north. When it was over, the family offered them a cup of coffee and some stayed and some went home. Although such a meeting is seldom held and this particular one was held because of the apparent crisis the family had faced, the mood of the meeting was congenial and intimate. It served to increase their sense of belonging to the ulama's family, and a sense of sharing mutual goals. The next day, the head of the family called in young instructors of the school and gave encouragement and instruction as to what to do about the school enrollment for the next year. In the afternoon, the family took a group of villagers around the village and repaired roads and paths leading to neighboring villages. These two activities symbolized the family's dependence upon one another, and the community outside their own immediate family and immediate village: They rely on these dedicated instructors to achieve goals of the Islamic educational institutions, they rely on other villagers for village security and progress, and they rely on neighboring villages who take part in the congregation for their mutual security and survival. Throughout the year, through various forms of exchange (of gifts, labor and assistance), the alliance and interdependence between various units of the community are reaffirmed. The ulamas' family has traditionally functioned as the center of the network and brain of the Islamic community. Without them, no network of cooperation nor shared goals would exist among villagers and between villages. === [PDF page 232] === 220 Economic Resources The availability of a sufficient amount of economic resources is as crucial for the ulama and their related institutions as that of human resources. Running a pesantren and madrasah is not an economic enterprise but a religious one, the profit from which is to be collected only in the next life. But since it is a non-profit enterprise, it is necessary for the ulamas' families to have a reasonable amount of economic assets from farming or other sources. They need funds to send their offspring to acquire the religious training necessary to succeed to the family's roles, to provide the attendants at madrasah with speakers, microphones, and floor mats, to help the needy, and to prepare meals for the guests and school teachers. If the institution has to expand, then they must at least have some initial expense for building dormitories, and madrasah. They need to have two kinds of resources: the harvest from inherited or purchased land to feed the family and the guests, and petty cash from sales of crops to pay for labor, tools, and expendable supplies. For large expenses, such as building dormitories, however, they must save steadily from each harvest. The family has a small safe in the house of the head of the family in which every member of the family makes a monthly deposit. In the past the lindholdings of the family remained relatively stable as the elder sons moved out and sold the land to their younger siblings, whereas those who remained at home could still purchase uncultivated land to convert into arable land. Since around the turn of the last century, the population expansion and the shortage of arable land has made it extremely difficult for them to hold onto the land. On the one hand, they need as many sons as possible to supply the institution with a sufficient number of ulama and attract as many santri students as possible, but a === [PDF page 233] === 221 large number of sons means further fragmentation of their property. order to avoid this tendency, the ulamas' family has t r a d i t i o n a l l y passed what they call the " i n s t i t u t i o n a l property", not subjected to d i v i s i o n, d i r e c t l y to a single offspring who takes charge of the i n s t i t u t i o n. The practice is f a i r l y common among such families of Islamic i n s t i t u t i o n s. this way they can protect the family's property from being passed to nonkinsmen, and to preserve the property necessary to the family enterprise. The rising price of farm products in recent years made the landowning class prosper, and with the p r o f i t the family has attempted to re-purchase the land which was lost i n the past few decades. When a sale offer of what was once the family's property comes up, the ulama attempts to purchase i t by any means, even by borrowing money from relatives in distant locations, or she encourages her remote relatives to buy the land and promises that her family w i l l take care of the land. The family presently has access to half a hectare of land which legally belongs to her son-in-law in Palembang. During the agricultural season, the family cultivates the land, harvests paddy, sells part of i t and saves the p r o f i t in gold for the ulama's sonin-law, keeping the other half as expenses for taking care of the land (a form of menengah sharecropping). The ulama i n north Priangan with more established orthodox pesantrens are affluent landowners as a result of a long accumulation of land donated by t h e i r benefactors. But many ulama in West Java are not necessarily affluent with wakap—"contributed property". The family i n Cipari, f o r example, owns one wakap f i s h pond, but i t was donated by one of t h e i r uncles. The wakap fish pond, however, renders a large income three or four times a year and the crops are also used for paying off i n kind the family's obligation to v i l l a g e r s, school teachers and their patron friends. === [PDF page 234] === 222 Sometimes the profit is saved for the institution's expanding projects. The individual ulama in Cipari are far from affluent. The head of the family, for example, owns half a hectare of inherited rice field and another half a hectare of fish pond and dry land. Her two nephews, the active ulama of the village, own even less; one of them owns half a hectare but most of i t actually belongs to his wife who inherited i t from her affluent father in Pingirsari. The other nephew sold his own inherited portion and invested half of the capital into a real estate business, and the other half into leasing of a plot of rice f i e l d. The ulama, however, can make a steady income outside of the profit from the land. They earn money by giving pengajian lectures upon the request of rich local families at such special occasions as rites of passage ceremonies, Though much of the land owned by the present family in Cipari is inherited rather than purchased, agricultural and trade skills are very much part of the family's tradition. The ulama, adept at business operations, do make the best out of what they own and take advantage of opportunities i f they sound secure and promising. This economic assertiveness is a matter of necessity and tradition, and i t is religiously sanetioned and encouraged: Despite the Islamic fatalism, tagdir, which constitutes the foundation of Islamic f a i t h, ichtiar (endeavor) is equally important. I t is a man's duty to exploit one's mind, mobilize capital and put in hard labor in order to improve one's l i f e. The ulama exemplify a model of Muslems' economic ehavior before the peasant followers. Their business operation is basically conservative. The ulama invest their capital in land rather than in high-risk business enterprises. During my stay in the village, some of the ulama's nephews from Wanaraja got together and attempted to talk her into investing in a locally operated oil === [PDF page 235] === 223 retail business. By calling herself "kolot" (older generation), she gently declined the offer. In farming, however, they are innovative experts. They scorned the failed BIMAS agricultural project set up in a nearby village by agricultural students from Bogor. The ulama are inventive and experimental minded. They have been testing the correlation between the distance between each paddy planted and the amount of the final harvest. The average distance employed by most villagers is seven to nine inches, whereas the family finally came up with the best harvest with a single paddy a time and 12 inches apart. They also pay twice as much attention to the care of soil as other villagers, ploughing, weeding and planting meticulously according to their calculations. As a consequence, the ulama can yield as much as a ton from 1/7 hectare rice rield, whereas an ordinary farmer could yield only a half ton. Most ulamas' families are self-sufficient and capable of supporting themselves as well as supplying necessary expenses for their institutions, but such small scale pesantrens as the one in Cipari are heavily dependent upon wealthy patron-friends for the expansion of the family's project and the construction of schools and dormitories. The alliance between the rich and the ulama has been a traditional one. When Islam was first brought by missioning ulama, the local rich families provided them with food and shelter, and it was not uncommon for the ulama to marry daughters of such families, to settle in their villages, and to establish a new pesantren and madrasah institution. The ulama enjoyed enormous prestige and influence over the rural population often by practicing medicine and even defending the community from bandits. Even today villagers say that villages without an ulama are likely to collapse by === [PDF page 236] === 224 themselves, for it is hard to unify communities without respected patronleader ulama in the village. Some ulama get offers from rich families in remote areas to move into their villages and assume the role of pdronulama and practice their profession in an institution provided by the rich families. There have been some benefits in the alliance: the motives of the rich families are prestige, protection and merit-earning, while the motive of the ulama is expansion of the family and the goal of Islamization of Indonesia. The alliance takes political, social and economic forms. The aggressive economic activities of rich families have made them in many ways vulnerable to social criticism. They lack a sense of "communal sharing", and they stand out among the poverty stricken peasants. Some of them have succeeded by exploiting small landholders and farmhands, and manipulating the economy to their best interests, or so the villagers say. Indeed some of the economic practices of rich families in the region seem rather ruthless. For example, they pay less to farm hands than religiously conscientious ulama, and by manipulating their capital and the vulnerability of the small landholders, they engage in land-lease deals and eventually buy up many small plots. Such practices are notorious among the traditional large landholders in Cinunuk, which was hit hard by Communist attacks during the Sukarno era. Today's many rich rural families have become wealthy through dealings with the Dutch during the colonial period, or through businesses in urban centers, without having much affect on the rural economy itself, but the consequences are just the same: they lack social recognition, prestige and influence the ulana receive in the rural community. Socially sensitive but vulnerable rich families, however, attempt to show their "good will" by giving small change to children, and donating funds to the ulamas' projects. === [PDF page 237] === 225 Not many rich families, however, are necessarily "sympathetic" toward the ulama who condemn some of their economic practices indirectly as i l l e g i t i m a t e in the l i g h t of Ismamic Canon Law. The ulama's family in Cipari, for example, has only a handful of patron-friends, and a l l of them engage in trade, though they are also large landowners. They donate funds to the ulamas' institutions and their social welfare projects such as repairing roads and building bridges. Such donations have much more profound meaning to the donators than just a matter of gaining social recognition. Their motives derive from their concern with the a f t e r - l i f e. Muslem men who have succeeded in business through hard labor and a shrewd mind are concerned with merit-making. Muslems believe that a success is only a partial result of one's endeavors but is c r i t i c a l l y determined by God's w i l l. A success then is not something to be proud of, but something for which to be grateful to God. I t is only with God's blessings that one's goals can be achieved in the final end, and God makes a man successful to make him useful for His plans. Thus i f a man keeps his wealth to himself, he is believed to face God's damnation in his l i f e afterwards. But i f the wealth is used for Godly purposes, the man earns merits, and ensures his path to Heaven. Even a poor peasant would give what l i t t l e money he owned to beggars to earn merits. A wealthy man has more opportunities, therefore, to earn merits than a poor man. A poor man may give money to beggars and earn merits for one occasion, but a rich man donates funds to ulama's religico-educational projects and social welfare programs and earns merits as long as the building, roads, or bridges remain beneficial to their users, almost like "collecting yearly pensions," as they put i t. === [PDF page 238] === 226 There is also a pervasive belief that a man, who has known an ulama closely in his lifetime and has kept close contact with an ulama in the l a t t e r ' s projects, w i l l have an easier path to Heaven than those who have had nothing to do with an ulama. This is apparent by the way some of the rich patron-friends pass their donation to the ulama's family in Cipari. When the family in Cipari was building a g i r l s ' dormitory in the village, one of the old patron-friends of the family sent money, not directly to the family in the v i l l a g e, but through the k i j a j i in Wanaraja. The k i j a j i is "purer and closer to God" than the ulama, according to their belief, and to have the k i j a j i ' s recognition was probably more important than that from a local village ulama. The rich men in their old age also feel that the wealth that they have made throughout their lives through sweat and hard labor might be wasted by their offspring who do not appreciate the work involved in the making of the wealth. They say that rather than having i t wasted and spoiling their offspring, i t is better to donate i t to the ulama's projects, and have i t used for good purposes. In this way the labor put in and the money made w i l l have manfaat(beneficial use). The ulamas' motive in their alliance with the rich is purely economic. Surprisingly, the ulama treat only the rich people as their friends. behave in a friendly and joking manner. patron-friends. They They also take good care of their The ulama help the patron-friends with their family, legal, and p o l i t i c a l problems. A child of one of the ulama's friends was involved in a criminal case and the ulama took care of i t for them. With another family, the ulama helped the woman's sister who was accused of adultery and was subsequently divorced without alimony. During the revolutionary war, the wealthier families in West Java a l l i e d themselves with the Islamic === [PDF page 239] === 227 group, partly out of their economic interest in preserving their wealth from the Dutch control. They also supported the ulama during the Darul Islam rebellion, the movement which badly needed financial help from the rich. In recent years wealthy families have also sought protection from the ulama and kijaji against Communist encroachment. Some friends of the ulama in Cipari, for example, even took part in "oporasi" tours organized by the anti-Communist army. For both the Islamic group and the large landowners, the Communists represented a common enemy. After all these protections and services by the ulama, the rich patron-friends feel obliged to return their dues to the ulama. The alliance between the wealthy families and the ulama works best for both parties: the wealthy families lack social status, and are vulnerable to threats of exploitation, whereas the ulama need funds to expand their institutions. The ulama provide the families with needed protection and help, and they thereby acquire access to a source of financial help. The wealthy families support the ulamas' projects in exchange for heavenly merits, social recognition and various services. The alliance has worked over generations because the relationship is complementary. The Muslem men's need for merits and services has changed no more than the ulamas' concern over the family's traditional roles and the perpetuation of the Islamic institutions. Both the rich and the ulama seek merit-making opportunities, and the services and the funds donated to the Islamic institutions provide them with such opportunities, while indirectly both serve the process of Islamization. The similar type of cooperation is also found between the ulama and the villagers, and it also centers around the ulamas' projects in relation === [PDF page 240] === 228 to the institutions. The following account of the cooperation among various groups will show the ulamas' integrating function in the community. This particular case was concerned with the building of a girls' dormitory in the village. The ulama's family had long planned to build a new dormitory ever since one of their sons left for Cairo in 1972. Soon after the announcement was made, the family's patron-friends gave their allegiance for support. A woman in Cibatu immediately brought foundation stones for the building. When the ministry of religious education granted a permit for the construction in early January, it was announced in the evening at the nightly pengajian meeting. For the special occasion, a microphone was placed and the news reached every villager through the loud speaker. A wealthy constructionist in Bakanloa, who had made his fortune in the construction materials business in Jakarta, sent a truckload of plaster. Two other old friends of the family promised several hundred thousand rupiah, but it did not arrive for a long while. The first donation from the rich patronfriend, 140,000 rupiah ($400) was delivered to the family by an old man who had made his fortune in the tobacco trade from Sukawening to Garut during the colonial period. The project was started around the middle of April. One of the family's fish ponds, located north of the school building, was sacrificed for the location. A sandscraper offered free labor, while the rest of the village women were organized to carry sand from the river to the construction site. The month of April was carefully chosen by the ulama because it was the harvest season and there were more male villagers in the village, who always came back at that time. Men took part in mixing cement, piling up bricks, and building the foundation. Then all the youngsters of the village and nearby Cipari filled in the fish pond after === [PDF page 241] === 229 the foundation was completed, and the children were encouraged to play on the site to level the ground. When the family suffered from a setback caused by a lumber shortage, one of the nephews, with direct connections with the army, located a pile of stored lumber near Bayongbong and escorted the truckload of lumber to Cipari. Meanwhile the family had collected several hundred thousand more rupiah in donations. A wealthy man from Wanaraja, who had promised 400,000 rupiah, had delivered only 150,000, but small contributions were also collected from people who just had their new harvests. The old skilled village carpenters offered free labor, carving the wood and making window frames. Only a few professional hands were hired. The ulama in turn rewarded the men with meals. As the price of rice went up that year, the project was hard hit by inflation. By late June when all the framework of the walls in and around the building was completed along with the doors and windows, it had cost the ulama 115,000 rupiah for lumber alone, 20,000 rupiah for cement, 54,000 for bricks and 20,000 for plaster, not including any laoor costs and free services rendered by the villagers. A total cost of 500,000 rupiah (a little over $1,000) was estimated for the entire project, but due to a shortage of funds, they completed the roof and beam framework, and celebrated the occasion in late July. The project was a modest one, though the ulama wished to build a most "modern and clean" girls' dormitory within the budget, but even with the cooperation from the wealthy families and the villagers, it was just not enough. It needed more help from the rich, but even the rich seemed short of cash. When the school building was constructed in 1969, it cost them a === [PDF page 242] === 230 total of 600,000, out of which half was funded by rich patron-friends, and only a small portion by the Department of Religious Affairs. The remaining funds w°re collected from villagers, relatives, and a number of small contributors, as well as the ulama's family itself. Despite all the difficulties, the ulama's family's hopes are high. Their hope is based on the belief that "those who aim high will have a future as promising as Illyyin (heaven-like place for the souls of good Muslems to rest before the Last Judgment Day), but those with small hopes will find their way to Sidzin (hell-like place). The way the ulama mobilized financial assistance from the wealthy families and labor services from the villagers shows how much the institution of the ulamaLe is dependent upon people from outside the family. When the dormitory is completed, it will be run by the ulama and his family as the trustees of the communal project. The wealthy contributors will take no part in the management nor do they enjoy the newly established dormitory. The villagers, too, will not benefit from the dormitory as their children live at home. Nevertheless, the building will be referred to as "ours" by both the ulama and the villagers, and all those who were concerned with the construction of the building believe that the financial assistance and labor rendered to the project will be rewarded in their life afterwards. As long as the Islamic institution of the ulamate remains, the faith will remain. And as long as the faith remains, Muslem followers will always seek merit-earning activities, for they believe that their merits are the only thing that they can hope to change the course of their fate and pave their safe path into the next world. === [PDF page 243] === 231 Summary I have shown in this chapter that the institution of ulamate is a corporate enterprise of the ulamas' family. The history of the family justifies its present role in the community and ensures the continuity of the family's traditional esteem for the Islamization causes. The family passes down traditions of the ulamate, produces cadres of the ulama for each generation, and mobilizes its members. The community and outsiders also take part in the continuity of the institutions. The rich and the poor, the ulama and the commoners, all make up parts of the whole of the ummat, the followers of the same faith, around the ulama. The sense of the ummat is generated by the mosque, madrasah, pesantren and school institutions, and in this process the ulama function to integrate rural Muslem populations into a coherent whole. The ulama provide hope and opportunities, teach the ways for individuals to comprehend the world and their lives and bring the ummat into a cohesive unit by imposing shared goals, shared values, and shared projects. In the next chapter we will examine these tasks of the ulama. === [PDF page 244] === Chapter V INSTITUTIONAL FUNCTIONS OF THE ULAMA The ulamas' family refers to their historical role and their forefather's endeavors as perjuangan agama, the struggle of Islam, and they see themselves as but a part of a continuous struggle for Islamization. Their involvement in Islamic p o l i t i c a l movements in the past, their endeavors to achieve the economic self-sufficiency of the community, to protect the community from threats of disruptive outside forces, and to preserve the status-quo of a homogeneous Islamic culture for the community, are a l l attributed to the goal of Islamization. The term perjuangan agama, therefore, refers to the whole range of the ulamas' role and explains the fundamental aspirations and esteem of the family's motive to preserve their traditional role of the ulamate in the community. The ulamas' p o l i t i c a l involvement or concern for the community's well-being, however, is a secondary but necessary part of the perjuangan agama. The most significant function of the ulama has been their orthodox and traditional roles as upholders of the faith i t s e l f, by teaching religious doctrines, and ensuring orthodox religious practices among Muslem followers. In this chapter I w i l l discuss the ulamas' i n s t i t u t i o n a l roles as tokok agama (religious experts), their educational programs and i n s t i t u tions, and the problems related to the new graded Islamic educational institutions. 232 === [PDF page 245] === 233 A. The Ulama as Functionaries of the Mosque and Madrasah There are four basic areas in which the ulamas' services are provided for the communities. The ulama serve in mosque, madrasah, pesantren and graded schools. Since every Muslem follower, whether a villager, a santri student, or an ulama, prays five times daily and popular religicoeducational programs are held at madrasah, the mosque and madrasah constitute the heart of Islamic institutions in rural Islamic communities. Unlike the image of other-worldly kijaji, localized ulamas' tasks involve earthly details. It is particularly so if the family owns and operates its own mosque and madrasah in the village, which is the case for most rural ulama. From the day's first prayer early in the morning around four a.m., until the last day's prayer around eight p.m., the ulama take full responsibility for keeping accurate time in announcing daily prayer hours. The ulama also pay attention to the maintenance of facilities for ritual cleansing. The mosque and madrasah are always kept neat and clean, and the paths leading to the village from surrounding villages are kept tidy for people coming to attend the mosque-madrasah religious gatherings. As if symbolizing these earthly tasks of local ulama, a bag of cement is always found in an ulama's house, along with all the equipment necessary to carry out the basic religious programs of the village, including lamps, lamp oil and straw mats, speakers and batteries. If the equipment breaks down, then the ulama can supply parts and fix it by himself. The ulama also supply private materials necessary for guests and villagers to enyaye in ritual activities which are used for most ritual occasions but are too expensive for villagers to purchase: an extra set of kain and pici hats for men, white robes for women, and several sets of batik kain with a traditional Garuda motif. A lot of detailed attention === [PDF page 246] === 234 is payed by the ulamas' family with respect to all the religious programs offered by the family to the villagers. The oldest and usually retired member of the ulamas' family performs as imam sembahyang, a prayer leader, of the daily prayers in the mosque. He also serves as penasehat (a preacher) at Friday Cho'bah prayer gatherings. From Thursday afternoon to Friday noon, the Muslems engage in special prayers and enhance unity with all the Muslems, dead and alive. Upon request, a penasehat prays on behalf of the deceased for forgiveness of their sins. They also give advice, moral guidance and hope for troubled villagers. A mosque congregation is limited to men, but women in need of extra merits congregate in the madrasah section of the building. Berjuma'at, "praying together in a group", is believed more meritorious than praying alone, and some women, particularly those with no offspring to pray on their behalf after their death and those who feel themselves particularly sinful, hope to gain extra merits through berjuma'at. Male villagers perform rituals, earn merits, and meditate at the mosque, but through the congregation they generate their commitment to the community. In late afternoons older villagers gather on the mosque steps, recite prayers while others chat and socialize, and exchange information about the events outside the village. Madrasah is the place where village adults and children study religious doctrines and acquire training directly from the ulama. Sometimes madrasah is used by santri students practicing ngaji, learning silat, "self-defense", studying Arabic or listening to lectures by Mu'alims and ulama. The most important function of the madrasah is for the ulama to communicate with the ummat and to upgrade the knowledge and the faith of ordinary villagers through pengajian gatherings. === [PDF page 247] === 235 Pengajian lecture meetings are informal gatherings aimed at teaching the basis of religious knowledge to the public. Pengajian gatherings are vital to the Islamization of the masses, in contrast to pesantren education which offers highly specialized courses for the elite and cadres of rural leaders. The style, goals and content of pengajian gatherings closely resemble Christian Sunday services. The ulama teach and preach by referring to Quranic verses and relating them to mundane daily problems of family and the community. They stress faith, the community, and God's punishment upon sinners. For ordinary villagers who attend, however, these pengajian gatherings have different meanings: first, to earn merits because the ulama encourage the villagers to engage in religious learning as much as possible since the heavenly rewards for merits are greater than for cuma sembahyang saja (just praying); secondly, to refresh their forgotten knowledge of firman Tuhan (God's commands); and thirdly, to socialize with the rest of the ummat and relate to otherwise superior and awesome ulama. Two kinds of pengajian gatherings are held in the village. One pengajian is given every night but Friday, and the other is a weekly one held every Tuesday. In scale and content, these two kinds of pengajian gatherings serve different purposes. Unless the weather is unfavorable, or the ulama is tied to other tasks, nightly pengajian meetings are held regularly after the day's last prayer. The youngest ulama of the family is in charge of the nightly pengajian, and the attendants are comprised of local villagers and people from nearby villages as well as santri students with only introductory religious knowledge. During off-agricultural seasons several hundreds of villagers attend every night, particularly during the fasting month. === [PDF page 248] === 236 The nightly pengajian in Cipari concentrates on the study of the Quran, and every night the ulama chooses one verse, writes it on the blackboard, and gives commentaries and interpretations. The gathering is often informal. The villagers bring their children and chat with their neighbors while some studious ones take notes. Such respected members of the commuti nity as the ulamas' wives sit near the ulama on a carpet, while the rest of the villagers sit on the bare floor. The mood of the ulama is equally relaxed, his lectures often being loosely structured. Many village families send at least one member who in turn is expected to teach his family upon his return home. Despite the loosely structured lectures and the easy atmosphere of the meeting, the nightly pengajian is regarded valuable by the ulamas' family for the sheer routine. The ulama says that he has to repeat the same lecture over and over, and still he feels sometimes that ordinary villagers find the message hard to grasp. He also feels that villagers are not as studious as they should be. Often they miss classes with no good reason. The weekly pengajian, on the other hand, is a big event for the entire village including the ulamas' family. Most male villagers take their morning off from their work to attend the meeting and women put on their finest clothes. In the ulamas' houses women are busy preparing meals for the guests and speakers of the day, while boys set up loud speakers, lay mats on the madrasah floor, and clean the yard. The weekly pengajian is formal, well-structured, and brings more attendance, not only from the parochial village but people coming from far in the mountains and the town of Wanaraja. During off-agricultural seasons, the attendance increases by as many as a thousand, filling the madrasah completely. The majority of the people coming from outside the village are women. They walk to the === [PDF page 249] === 237 village barefooted, carrying a bundle of personal belongings over their shoulders in kains and an umbrella in their hands. Many of these attendants, including the guests of the ulama's house, take advantage of the pengajian partly for social purposes. Local news is exchanged, marriage arrangements are made, and friendships are renewed. Again men and women of high religious and social statuses sit toward the lecturing ulama, while lowclass peasants gather in the back chewing betel leaves or smoking cigarettes. Some old men with few friends, and mothers with crying babies, sit on the madrasah steps. The pengajian begins with the singing of a song in chorus, praising God and Muhammad, then a young ustad announces news and the community's new projects. A young son of the ulama,practicing, provides a short lecture for about 15 minutes. Then a kiroat (Quranic chnnting) is performed by one of the santri students. The ulama's lecture begins afterwards. The lecture is usually divided into two sessions: the first session is delivered by the older ulama of the village, while the second half is presented by the day's guest speaker. While the nightly pengajian specializes in the Quran, the weekly pengajian lectures center on Hadith (the Tradition). The Hadith. is a compilation of Muhammad's conducts and sayings transmitted by his followers orally, and they serve to illustrate Quranic verses and help Muslem followers comprehend and put Islamic doctrines into practice. As such, lectures on the Hadith tend to assume a form of preaching rather than a lecture. The village ulama lectures on religious requirements and proper conduct of a Muslem follower with other Muslems by referring to the examples cited in the Hadith. A guest speaker from outside the village is usually older and more experienced than the two practicing ulama in Cipari, and he gives === [PDF page 250] === 238 lectures directly on the question of faith, the tauhid. Two ulama who usually perform this role have some relation to the family in Cipari and share the common goal of perjuangan agama: one has a pesantren of his own at Bakanloa and is related to the family in Cipari through kinship. The other is well known in the area as a learned scholar and preacher, and his family refuged themselves at Cipari during the revolutionary period and the DI Rebellion. The head of the ulamas' family i n Cipari seldom interferes with the pengajian. Infrequently, however, when the lecture gets boring and uninspiring, she w i l l stop whatever lecture is being given and take i t over by herself in a vigorous manner. To the family, the pengajian is an expensive enterprise involving preparation of meals, equipment and necessary materials, and though the head of the family is aware of the socializing effect of the meeting, she feels there s t i l l must be some religious manfa'at (benefits and gains). She attempts to evoke awe from the audience by emphasizing eternal damnation. The male ulama, on the other hand, emphasize merits and comfort the fear of the v i l l a g e r s. Many ulama also engage in pengajian lectures outside the v i l l a g e. Their motives are partly economic and partly from their commitment to Islamization. I have already mentioned that the two practicing ulama give lectures at government industries as public employees of the Department of Religious A f f a i r s. All four ulama, including the semi-retired ulama and the head of the family, give both regular and irregular pengajian lectures at various places: Islamic p o l i t i c a l party gatherings, Islamic students' associations, Indonesian teachers' associations, other pesantrens and madrasah of their friends, or at rites of passage ceremonies of t h e i r patronfriends and the r i c h and i n f l u e n t i a l families of the region. === [PDF page 251] === 239 Outside lecture engagements are necessary for the ulama to extend their connections, make their names known, increase their reputation and extend their realm of influence. It has some political significance as well. During the late fifties and early sixties, many ulama were actively engaged in large scale "oporasi" missioning programs, supported and organized by the army or Islamic political parties against Communist encroachment. The number of pengajian requests by outsiders increases during the months of Maulud (celebrating Muhammad's birthday) and the seventh month of Rajab (celebrating Muhammad's ascent to ( Heaven). Sometimes a well-known orthodox ulama will receive more requests than he can handle. During these months, however, some ulama make tens of thousands of rupiah by accepting as many invitations as possible. They are usually provided with meals, lodging and several thousand rupiah by the family who invited them. Sometimes those who send invitations are the ulamas' former santri students and local wealthy families. Some government organizations also ask the ulama to lecture on these occasions. Most holiday pengajians are held outside in a public square where a simple platform and a microphone are set up for the speaker. The audience is usually large, partly because it is a social occasion, partly because it is meritorious and, in more recent years, because people are afraid of possible accusations of being Communists There is a vast range of subjects from which the ulama can choose for the pengajian lectures. The most popular subject is, of course, man's relationship to the Sacred. The ulama preach God's almighty powers over the fate of man, nature, and the universe, God's promises for good Muslem followers and kafir nonbelievers and kufur (Muslems guilty of breach of faith). Then they teach the ways to acquire merits and God's blessings === [PDF page 252] === 240 without which they cannot hope for keslametan, "safety", in this world and the next. Religious indoctrination also includes the contrast between the devil and the f a i t h, human lust and piety, rev/ard and punishment, and Heaven and Hell. There are vast differences among the ulama in the content of t h e i r lectures and their skillfulness of presentation. Some are scholarly but f a i l to evoke religious inspiration, while others are fundamentalists and not too scholarly but who can successfully inspire the audience. The ulamas' pengajian a c t i v i t i e s in their own villages or in engagements outside their villages serve the function of building foundations of the Islamization process among the peasant masses, for most villagers are not pesantren graduates and many of them stopped receiving ngaji lessons when they were i n their mid-teens. The madrasah i n s t i t u t i o n and the pengajian programs are thus equally as important as the role of the traditional pesantren i n s t i t u t i o n. B. The Ulama as Educators, Ahli Pendidikan The madrasah i n s t i t u t i o n has served to upgrade the f a i t h and the knowledge of the peasant masses and has often assumed the form of preaching, whereas the pesantren, another form of traditional educational i n s t i t u t i o n, has served to provide systematic religious education for cadres of the ulama and individuals capable to assume socio-religious leadership i n Muslem communities. The pesantren educational system is highly specialized and i t also aims to train i t s students to acquire s k i l l s of self-sufficiency. The s a n t r i, as the students are called, l i v e in dormitories, sharing a small room with three to five others and sometimes as many as 10 students. I t is not uncommon to find female santris i n a pesantren, though their l i v i n g === [PDF page 253] === 241 quarters are separated from boys and usually closer to the ulamas' houses. Every santri must provide himself with clothes, food and other necessities, but they are not required to pay any fees for lodging and lessons provided by the ulama. Sometimes, however, santris' parents send gifts to the ulama when they send rice and money to their sons and daughters. The ulama often support poor santris, who may in turn work in the ulamas' rice field and learn farming skills. Santris cook their own meals, clean their rooms, wash their clothes, and help among themselves. Some large pesantrens prepare meals for all of the students, but pesantrens of normal size, which have from 50 to 150 students, let the santri organize their own daily chores. The programs and organization of pesantrens vary widely. The age of the santri students, for example, usually ranges between 5 and 25, and some pesantrens limit the minimum age to 10, accepting only those who have finished grade school. Some pesantrens divide the students according to age groups or levels of their religious knowledge. Ihe older santris teach the younger santris and most santris do not get to learn from the ulama until they have studied several years. The line of authority is rigidly structured. The younger santri obey the older santri, the older santri follow the young ustad, and the ulamas' authority is absolute. During the long years of apprenticeship, the junior santris cook meals, wash clothes and clean rooms for the senior santris. When regular ngaji lessons start, the santris' daily schedule is tightly fixed. From morning till late evening they continuously study and memorize lessons of the previous day. If they fail to work as much as they are expected, they can be expelled from the pesantren, or sometimes some form of punishment is imposed, such as having their head shaved or being === [PDF page 254] === 242 beaten with a whip. During the daytime small children find obscure places to take a nap behind other santri students. If they are caught while engaqing in theft, indulgence or running away from the pesantren, they will be deprived of all the rights including lessons and socialization with other santri students. The nga.ii lessons are given in a traditional manner. A group of santris with a similar level of learning, dressed in the traditional sarong and pici hat uniform, sits on the bare floor and reads the kitab or Quran aloud. Next the teacher or the assistant gives a word by word translation. Then if the santris are mature enough, an interpretation is given. For older santris in an advanced level of learning, however, discussions play an important part. Besides religious lessons, many pesantrens teach santris skills for farming, self-defense, medicine making and hygiene to train them for selfsufficiency and to enable them to encounter crisis situations when they return home and assume their roles as patrons and leaders of the community. The ability to take care of themselves as well as others, and to get along with their fellow students, is highly emphasized. As a consequence, friendships cultivated in pesantrens often last long, shaping the basis of extended connections of ulama and santris later on. Santris stay in one pesantren for several years, ranging from three to sometimes six or ten years. Some contemporary santris are school drop-outs and they have been put in the pesantren by their parents, but these students usually do not last long as the ulama will soon expel them. Some santris obtain graded Islamic and general education simultaneously from the modem educational institutions. But when they graduate and hope to continue the orthodox part of their education, they may continue to stay and study from === [PDF page 255] === 243 the ulama. or else they will be recommended by the ulama to other pesantren where other courses are taught or other well-known ulama with different specializations are found. Traditionally, santri students merantau for years, studying from various ulama at different places. But these santri students are generally sons of ulama and are expected to assume the role of the ulama upon their return home. Many santri students, however, neither hope to become ulama nor to stay in one pesantren very long or even travel from pesantren to pesantren. To them, pesantren experience is a part of rites of passage necessary before assuming leadership in their respective communities. This is also the case among the santris at the pesantren in Cipari. Out of 100 santri students registered at pesantren Cipari, about half commute from their homes in or near the village. Only 28 santris are from regions distant from the village: Bayongbong, Banjuresmi, Leles, Bandung, Karangawitan and Wanaraja. Twenty-five of them live in the dormitory and the rest are accomodated in village houses for 3000 rupiah (room and board) a month. Some pesantrens, known for certain specialized branches of Islamic sciences, often teach both the young and the old ulama, but the one in Cipari, due to its limitation in the number of facilities, aims at educating only the young santris. The age of santris ranges from 12 to 22, and most have already graduated from grade school. About 90 percent of the santri students also attend graded Islamic schools of Tsanawiyah (private junior high Islamic school) or SP. IAIN (preparatory senior high school for Islamic National Institute). The remaining 10 percent have already graduated from either or both schools. Contrary to my expectations, most santri students are not ulamas' children. The majority of them are children of middle class farmers or government officials. Furthermore, out of 100 === [PDF page 256] === 244 students, only 20 of them are girls. The santris, who are enrolled at more than one school simultaneously, spend their days at graded school. Only early in the morning and the evening do they engage in traditional ngaji sessions with the ustad and the ulama. When both pesantren and graded Islamic schools are combined, santri students master the following branches of Islamic sciences: ilmu ma'ani (studies of major sentences from the Quran) ilmu bayang (study of meaning of these sentences) ilmu balagoh (improving Arabic sentence structures) ilmu badeh (Arabic composition) ilmu isytiaroh (translating difficult sentences) ilmu naho (Arabic writing) ilmu mustolahat (learning of Hadith) ilmu usul fiqih (learning theorems of law, prerequisite to the study of fiqih, the law) ilmu Quran (interpretation of the Quran by using commentaries) ilmu fiqih (the study of the Islamic law) Along with Islamic sciences, ilmu tauhid, the development of the faith, and tasawwuf (sufism) are also taught. Tauhid is taught to all grades whereas tasawwuf is reserved for advanced students. Pesantren Cipari, at the present level, is no more than an ordinary rural pesantren; its size is limited and its educational quality is just about average. Unlike large and well-known pesantrens, it has only one "merantau" student coming from outside West Java for the sake of "religious experience". The pesantren does not specialize in one branch of science (pak) but teaches mostly general courses. It offers the kind of education basic to becoming ustad at most. Those who care to pursue further training in specialized branches of the science must move to other pesantrens and === [PDF page 257] === 245 spend years i n the traditional manner before successfully becoming an ulama, and only a handful of santris w i l l continue. Part of the reason why most santris do not continue further is clear; as I mentioned before, the i n s t i t u t i o n of the ulamate is an ulama's family's traditional specialization and monopoly. A pesantren cannot operate without history, tradition and prestige. Some competent sons of middle class farmers may begin to teach village children and adults at home, but however rich they may be, there is no way to establish a pesantren without a t r a d i t i o n. madrasah i n s t i t u t i o n s. They may become pengajian ulama with their own But for such a person to make his name known as an i n f l u e n t i a l ulama without a traditional family name, he must be unusually versed in the sciences, and i t would be only after years of training from the very best ulama of the region or after having studied at well-known pesantren l i k e Gontor, or abroad. There i s also an economic limitation for the children of an ordinary peasant to aspire to become ulama. To begin with, it requires more than just ambition for them to acquire pesantren education. A santri's parents must be economically capable to support him through pesantren. The landholdings of the families of the santris at Cipari, for example, range between 100 bata and several hectares. These families have sent their sons or daughters to acquire the kind of qualities necessary to assume social roles as "pemimpin masyarakat" (community leaders). They will enjoy social respect from the villagers, and they will remain as village ustad (religious teachers). The functions of such small pesantrens as the one in Cipari are limited: they do not produce ulama but they provide much more specialized religious education than the madrasah system can offer. But when these === [PDF page 258] === 246 santris return home and assume their teaching and leadership roles, or simply remain as Muslems "sympathetic to agama", they will be contributing to the process of Islami zing the peasant masses. Since generally the tie between santri students and the ulama last life-long, on many occasions they collaborate in mutual projects. For example, during the Islamic holiday months, the ulama are invited by their former santri students to give pengajian lectures. Some wealthy former santris make donations to the ulama's projects. Then again, the process of making future ulama is not completed by any single pesantren, but only out of cooperation between a number of ulama and pesantren. Thus the traditional function of the pesantren has been to prepare individuals capable of teaching at their respective villages, whereas its function to produce cadres of the ulama has been very limited. In this way, the pesantren functions to provide Muslem communities with a sufficient supply of Islamic functionaries, thereby assuring the gradual Islamization process over time and space. 1. Graded Islamic Institutions The graded Islamic educational institutions aim at systematically training Islamic teachers through the classroom system. The students pay fees, attend regularly held classes, and attain a certificate upon graduation, while the employed teachers give classes at publicly or privately owned institutions. The system is efficient, and unlike traditional pesantren systems, a greater number of the rural population has access to such institutions. Many young santris also attend these schools in their early years before continuing to advanced institutions. There are private and public schools of this nature, and the difference is whether === [PDF page 259] === 247 the Institution is supported by the government or not. Private schools are usually owned and operated by Islamic parties. Some of them specialize in religious courses and do not offer general science courses, whereas some others combine both in their curriculum. Contrary to the initially held high expectations, however, the modern graded Islamic educational institutions have suffered from various kinds of problems. The ulamas' family in Cipari runs a private Islamic junior high school and a public Islamic senior high school. We will examine the kinds of problems contemporary Islamic schools face. Tsanawiyah Before the present regime came to power, there was only one junior high school in the entire southeast district of Garut. Within eight years since then, however, the number of schools has mushroomed (Table 21). Tsanawiyah at Cipari,was one of them, being established in 1971. It was meant to produce sufficiently competent students to enter SP.IAIN, the Islamic senior high school, which had been established two years earlier. It is a private institution and because of several advantages, it started out with a considerable number of students for such a small institution. The high initial student enrollment at Tsanawiyah reflected the kinds of advantages the school offered in relation to the students' expectations after graduation. The graduates of PGA, Islamic teachers' school, can continue only to religious institutions such as an Islamic university or teachers' school like IKIP. Tsanawiyah graduates, on the other hand, can take a national examination and obtain a certificate equivalent to SMP, general science junior high schools. With this certificate a graduate can continue to practically every kind of higher education. This difference === [PDF page 260] === 248 between Tsanawiyah and PGA derives from the differences in the school curricula: half of the courses offered by Tsanawiyah are general science courses. Table 21 Educational Institutions (Junior High Level) In the Southeastern District of Garut Kecamatan Sukawening 1966 SMP (privately owned by LPPM) 1967 PGA-Cokro (privately owned by PSII) 1968 PGA-Alam Arip (privately owned by NU) 1973 SMP (public) Kecamatan Wanaraja 1967 PGA-Alam Arip (privately owned by NU) 1968 PGA (privately owned by Muhamadiyah) 1971 Tsanawiyah (privately owned by Cipari) 1972 PGA (privately owned by LPPM) Key to abbreviations SMP - Sekolah Menengah Pertama, junior high PGA - Pendidikan Guru Agama, religious teachers' school LPPM - Lembaga Pengetahuan Pendidikan Masyarakat, Community educational institute NU - Nahadatul Ulama, orthodox ulamas' unity party PSII - Partai Syarekat Islam Indonesia, Indonesian Islamic unity party When the project of founding a junior high school in Cipari was about to be realized, the leading members of the family all gathered at the head of the family's house and discussed the outline of the planned institution. They all agreed that the school should provide both general and religious science courses to avoid another PGA system. The whole purpose of creating a junior high school was to make the whole educational system in Cipari self-sufficient and self-generating, and Tsanawiyah was meant to prepare === [PDF page 261] === 249 its graduates for SP.IAIN. The previous two years' record had shown that the graduates of the local PGA Islamic teachers' school did not pass the public examination given by the SP.IAIN with great success, since the examination contained questions relating to the general sciences which the graduates of the PGA were not taught. The family also thought that the future Islamic leaders must be as well versed in the general sciences as in the Islamic sciences. Unlike the PGA schools, the Tsanawiyah offered courses in arabic language, general sciences and religious education. The following list shows the subjects under these three major groupings: Arabic Language Reading Conversation Composition Grammar I, II, III Dictation Wri ti ng General Sciences Indonesian language History and world culture Geography Math (algebra and geometry) National constitution Phys i cs Biology Sundanese language Painting, music and physical education Social behavior Admi ni strati on/accounti ng Religious Education Tajwid (reading the Quran) Tafsiran (interpretation of the Quran) Hadith/Musta'alah (learning Hadith and ways to relate it to the interpretation of the law Tauhid (learning faith) Fiqih/usul fiqih (the law) History of Islam Despite the initial success, the number of students in Tsanawiyah has since declined. There are several reasons for the problem. First of all, in the initial year, all the applicants were admitted without any === [PDF page 262] === 250 examinations, but many of them failed in the final examinations at the end of the year. These final examinations are nationally checked by the Department of Religious Education under the Ministry of Religious affairs, and those who do not meet the national standard are not allowed to continue to the next grade. The high rate of failures in the finals is caused by the highly specialized religious curriculum as well as high pressure from the sheer number of subjects the students are required to cover each year (usually running from 27 to 30 courses). After two years, the class of 1971, which had started with 53 students had only 30 students left. The class of 1972 started out with 35 students and by 1973 about half of them had dropped out (Table 22). Table 22 Changes in Student Enrollment: Tsanawiyah Class of: 1971 1972 1973 1974 First year Second year Third year Graduates 54 45 30 24 35 18 24* 21 35* 47 * The increase in number from the previous year was caused by transfers and repeats from the previous year. In the year 1973, when the writer was still in the village, the decline reached the lowest level. Besides the reputation for being a "tough school", the decline was a result of several other trends. First of all, the ministry had passed an ordinance that even private schools must screen students' admissions, and secondly and more significantly, a public SMP middle school was newly opened in Sukawening (about one kilometer away from the village), attracting students who might otherwise have been interested in Tsanawiyah. Until then, as can be seen in Table 21 (p.248), there was === [PDF page 263] === 251 no public SMP. Until then the majority of schools recruited about 30 students at most each year (therefore, the enrollment of 54 students in Tsanawiyah in 1971 was a great surprise to both Cipari and the local religious ministry), but the SMP that year recruited more than 100 students! The reason why public schools are popular is twofold: First, they offer only 14 courses compared to 30 in Tsanawiyah (thereby making it more difficult for students to pass at Tsanawiyah) and secondly, SMP graduates can obtain "automatic" certificates of national recognition without taking any examination, as Tsanawiyah graduates must do. This popular trend illustrates a general incentive among the rural population for higher education: Most students entering PGA do not intend to continue to higher education, and most of them do become local ustad or religious teachers. SMP or Tsanawiyah graduates on the other hand, aim at continuing in higher schools and some even as high as universities, hoping eventually to obtain government positions which are the securest, most popular and prestigious forms of employment among the rural population. Besides all these unfortunate circumstances, Tsanawiyah also suffered pressures from competing PGA institutions. Despite the limitations of its graduates, PGA is popular among those who seek immediate rural employment as religious teachers, for which the demand has been continuously high in Southeast Garut. The kinds of jobs available for PGA graduates are, among others, teaching as a guru for private lessons, as SD (primary school) religious teachers (the demand for this position is particularly high ever since religious courses became mandatory in every educational institution when the present regime came to power), or even as an assistant in the local KUA office (Kantor Urusan Agama, extention office of the Ministry of Religious Affiars). There is also an added factor for its popularity; unlike === [PDF page 264] === 252 Tsanawiyah, it does not offer any general courses and even the religious courses offered at PGA are less specialized than those offered at Tsanawiyah, making it easy for the students to pass exams. Consequently, Tsanawiyah suffered pressures from both the public school of SMP and from PGA in 1973. That year, the total student enrollment in the entire school came to a pitiful 69. In 1974 (after the writer left the village) the enrollment in Tsanawiyah went up. Part of the reason for this increase was the change in the government's policy over the status and fate of Islamic higher educational institutions and partly because of the 100 percent successful graduation of the class of 1971. First of all, the ordinance from the Ministry of Education that all the higher educational institutions located in the district must move to the provincial capitals has affected the future of preparatory high schools affiliated with the universities such as SP.IAIN in Cipari. As it is a preparatory school for IAIN, the national Islamic institute, the school was to be discontinued. Due to the special connections that the family in Cipari had with the higher echelons of the Ministry of Religious Affairs, it was granted an unusual permission to continue. This new change encouraged students from outside Southeast Garut to come to Tsanawiyah, particularly after the family constructed a girls' dormitory to accomodate more students. In 1974, for example, out of a total of 117 students, 55 were girls. Consequently, not only did the enrollment of new students increase but in addition quite a few transfer students were added. When I left the village, the status of the school was still private, but the family hoped it would eventually be changed to public status so that more governmental aid would be provided. The family had hoped to === [PDF page 265] === 253 build a separate school building with that aid and with the help of their patron-friends. They had also hoped that the teachers would all become government employees, and get a monthly regular income. At the moment, every student is required to pay a fee of 150 rupiah (about 30<t) a month, but this is usually not enforced and not sufficient to run the school. Out of 18 teachers, only two of them are government employees. After the writer left the village, however, it was learned that the decision of the 1970 Minister of Religious Affairs to make Tsanawiyah public had been reversed for unexplained reasons and for now the issue is completely closed. It 1s commonly understood that whatever agreements are made with a former minister are automatically cancelled with the coming of a new minister. Consequently, the ulamas' family not only provides most of the expendable materials for the institution but also the manpower for teaching and running the school. Out of 18 teachers, 13 of them are members of the ulamas' family. These teachers all say that it is their sheer dedication that moves them to continue with the family's project. Among the remaining 5 teachers, all of whom teach the general science courses, only 2 of them are full-time and the remaining are "borrowed" from other institutions, free of charge. They are government employees elsewhere, but part of their time is spent in Cipari. Both Tsanawiyah and SP.IAIN are managed by a young man who is the head of SMEA (Sekolah Menengah Ekonomi Atas, junior high school level economic institution) in Wanaraja. His status with Cipari is completely informal based on the agreement between him and the ulamas' family made when the young son of the ulamas' family in Cipari left for Al Azhar in Cairo. This young man, in charge of the school presently, was from Cinunuk, a son of a former ulama and a graduate student at IKIP, teachers' university. In his === [PDF page 266] === 254 case, too, it seems to be sheer dedication that pulls him back to rural educational institutions. In the morning he supervises in Cipari, and in the afternoon he goes to SMEA, which is headed by him as well. This young man said once that with his degree, there are many attractive job offers in the cities. He has declined all of them, for he feels he can do more about improving the educational standards of the peasants' children. The older ulama of the village is only the figurehead of the school. The young man and the head of the family work closely together maneuvering the rather unpredictable course of the educational policies of the Ministry of Education. The head of the family provides him with expenses and he runs back and forth between Jakarta and the village to solve the problems as instructed by the family head. The head of the family is the brain and the life source for all the Islamic institutions in Cipari. Under her leadership, all the young members of the family are mobilized for teaching classes. A small private institution like this cannot survive without an effective leader. SP.IAIN (Sekolah Persiapan Institute Agama Islam Negara) While Tsandwiyah aims to provide the basis of religious education for young students, SP.IAIN is more specialized than Tsanawiyah. It is a preparatory school for students planning to enter IAIN after graduating from SP.IAIN. For this reason, a heavy emphasis is placed on religious courses with little on general science courses. The curriculum is divided into three categories, according to the degree of requirements necessary for entering IAIN after graduation. The major curriculum includes: Tauhid, tafsiran. Hadith, fiqih/usul fiqih, for Islamic sciences, and the Indonesian, Arabic and English languages. The "important courses" include four religious courses (teaching of religion, psychology, history of Islam and === [PDF page 267] === 255 morality and ethics), and two general science courses (administration/ bookkeeping and general education). The 12 less important courses that make up the rest of the curriculum consist, all but one, of general education courses that include economy, the history of Indonesia, algebra, geography, chemistry, sociology, hygiene, Indonesian culture, music, the basis of nationality, and art. Kiroat (the art of Quranic chanting) is listed under this category as it is considered as part of art. The school in Cipari is one of the three senior high school level institutions available in the southeast district of Garut. Two others are SMEA, the school of economics, and SMA, a public senior high school, located at Cibatu six miles north of Cipari. Thirty-four students were registered in 1973. The statistical data reveal that a modern Islamic educational system such as SP.IAIN greatly differs from the traditional concept of "merantau santris", coming from far distances only to acquire Islamic wisdom and "merantau experience". It provides the local population, particularly the children of upper and middle class families, with opportunities to acquire "certificates and formal education". Out of 35 students, 26 came from nearby villages, and only 8 of them came from further away than 10 kilometers from the village (7 of them are living in the pesantren dormitory). Furthermore, half of them are the first child of their families to attend a senior high school level institution. The details follow: 13 elder sibling attending higher educational institutions other siblings attending senior high elsewhere 13 other siblings attending junior high school other siblings having attended, attending presently, or not attending at all === [PDF page 268] === 256 These children are from better-off families in the rural context: only a l i t t l e over h a l f, 19, are full-time farmers and the rest are white collar Table 23 Occupations of Students' Fathers 19 Farmers 2 school teachers 4 religious teachers 15 White Collar workers: | a c t i v T o f r e tired army o f f i c i a l s 2 merchants 1 barber The landholdings of their families, with an average of 200 bata (1/7 hectare), also supports the contention that the students' background is e l i t i s t (Table 24). Table 24 Landholding among Students' Families less than 50 bata (1/14 hectare) 12 between 100 bata and 150 bata between 200 and 400 bata one hectare (700 bata) two hectare Unlike Tsanawiyah, SP.IAIN is a public i n s t i t u t i o n, supported by the government. Though this is a desirable status, i t nevertheless creates some frustrating problems for the school administrators, the ulamas' family. To begin with, financial help from the government is not substantial. === [PDF page 269] === 257 Every student is required to pay 250 rupiah a month, out of which 190 must be handed over to the government in exchange for materials, as well as salaries for the teachers. The fee is too expensive for some students pay monthly, and the school only charges and collects 150 rupiah, the difference being made up by the ulamas' family. Furthermore, in order to meet the curriculum requirement imposed by the ministry of religion, at least 13 teachers are needed to teach 34 students. Despite the high standard of education required, none of these 13 teachers are paid full-time as government employees, and only three of them are paid a semi-annual honorarium (a token stipend) of 10,000 rupiah each, while the rest of them are not paid at all. Table 25 The Status of the Teachers 10 provided honorarium (2 graduates ond the head of the school) unpaid: 1 local ulama 3 members of the family 3 teachers "borrowed" from other schools They say it is common among many private educational institutions for teachers not to be paid regularly, but most private schools are supported by political parties or religious organizations. A public institution such as SPJAIN, however, is even worse, they say, because the "public" status is in name only, but there are more constraints involved in that status than there are advantages. The case with SP.IAIN, however, is special, because of its relation with the IAIN, and this relates to the question of curriculum and administering the students' examinations. === [PDF page 270] === 258 The school recruits students from local junior high schools, including PGA, SMP, STP (Sekolah Technique Pertama, technical junior high school), SMEP (Sekolah Menengah Ekonomi Pertama, junior school of economics) and Tsanawiyah. Again, as a public school, all the applicants must take an entrance examination, which is both made up and administered by the director of IAIN. But because the standard expected by the IAIN is so high, only about half of each year's applicants pass. Even after successful admission to the school, very few are able to pass final examinations at the end of each year, and by the time they graduate, the number of successful graduates is reduced even further (Table 26). Table 26 Change of Student Enrollment: SP.IAIN Class of: 1969 1970 1971 1972 1973 1974 applicants 35 20 12 32 23 18 15 27 15 14* 35 11 18* 30 20 3rd year 50 30 12 10 Graduates 10 15 admi tted 2nd year * The increase in number from the previous year was caused by transfers and repeats from the previous year. The basic difficulty the students face in the school work is the number of courses they are required to pass at the end of the year. The first year's (the class of 1969) miserable outcome discouraged potential applicants, and the number of successful graduates has declined. The low number of applicants in 1972 and the sudden increase in the number of the class of 1973 in their second year was caused by a sudden change of administrative === [PDF page 271] === 259 policy at the local PGA, from which the SP.IAIN, up until 1974, had recruited most of i t s students. The PGA offers four-year training courses to train Islamic teachers, but u n t i l 1974 the fourth year students who aspired to continue to IAIN were allowed to transfer to SP.IAIN without finishing the fourth year at the PGA. But the students from PGA who entered SP.IAIN had done so poorly on their f i n a l examinations i n the previous three years that the IAIN director banned such transfers. Consequently, among the applicants f o r the class of 1973 there were only two PGA graduates while the rest of the applicants a l l came from non-Islamic schools with only 30 percent passing the entrance exams (11 out of 33). Table 27 Educational Backgrounds of the Students in 1973 Graduates of: Third year students PGA Tsanawiyah SMP (STM) 19 Second year students First year students Other Table 27 shows a decrease in graduates from PGA and an increase i n those from SMP. The sudden increase i n the number of students coming from SMP derives from a basic economic factor: there are fewer jobs available for SMP graduates than for those from PGA (mostly becoming local n g a j i, "teachers") while the school fee at SP.IAIN is comparatively inexpensive for those who have not found a job. Because of the important role religious education plays in most rural communities, SP.IAIN graduates, even i f they found no formal jobs elsewhere, they could gain local respect as ustad i n === [PDF page 272] === their respective communities. The highest success rate of admission occurring i n 1974 (2/3 of the 30 applicants) is due to the fact that many applicants were graduates of Tsanawiyah. The family's endeavor to substitute the PGA with Tsanawiyah school began to show some effects upon the future of the SP.IAIN. The requirements demanded by the IAIN directors f o r a high standard of religious knowledge among applicants and the enrolled students has caused some conflicts between local educators and the IAIN. From the IAIN's point of view, i t is crucial to maintain a high standard of education, since i t is directly related to the future quality of Islamic scholarship i n Indonesia. From the local educator's point of view, though SP.IAIN essentially aims at preparing highly specialized students in Islamic sciences for continuing directly to IAIN, this is not necessarily the only goal. They believe that i t should also encourage students who do not intend to continue to IAIN. These conflicting views clashed in 1973, when the Department of Education issued instructions that a l l the d i s t r i c t level higher educational institutions had to be moved and t h e i r extension services withdrawn to the provincial capitals as of that year, and no new students were admitted after 1973. This in turn meant that for most rural students the chance of continuing education at higher institutions was v i r t u a l l y closed, as the expense for studying i n Bandung either by commuting (250 rupiah both ways by local transportation), or living i n the city (at least several thousand rupiah a month) is f a r beyond that most rural families could afford. The f i r s t year graduates of SP.IAIN (the class of 1969) were a l l successful in 1972: 3 went to IAIN in Garut, 2 to BAKRIBA (an academy specifically training imam tentara, ulama serving the people in the army), while the remaining 5 obtained local jobs, teaching either at PGA or Tsanawiyah. In 1973 (class of 1970) however, despite a l l 7 graduates === [PDF page 273] === 261 passing examinations in both IAIN and IKIP teachers' college, none of them could afford to continue their eudcation in Bandung because of the limited economic resources of their parents. The local ulama strongly argue that because the SP.IAIN's prospects for the future are already limited (as fewer students will be willing to study at SP.IAIN), the director if IAIN should loosen his grip on SP.IAIN administration and make the examination a little easier so that more students can study at SP.IAIN. The status of SP.IAIN in Cipari continues to be unstable. Initiated by progressive local ulama to provide opportunities for rural students willing to acquire higher education, the school is just about to be totally wiped out, largely because of the continuous change of administrative policies in Jakarta. Only temporarily, SP.IAIN in Cipari was granted permission to continue for another several years because the director of IAIN in Bandung was a son-in-law of the kijaji in Wanaraja. Meanwhile the family in Cipari is faced with the urgent need to increase the number of enrollments and the successful rate of admission and advance of students, with which they can impress and persuade the Ministry of Education to let them continue with the institution. Toward the end of that year, the ulamas' family was determined to build another boys' dormitory to accomodate the applicants who had failed in the entrance examination and give them one year of special training before they tried the entrance examination again. C. The Ulama as Islamic Legal Expert and Enforcer The religion of Islam sets forth a set of laws, and the traditional role of the u1ama has been not only to teach and preach them but to interpret and enforce the code. The law is divided into several categories and === [PDF page 274] === 262 is classified into different grades of severity: (a) wajib, an absolute requirement, neglect of or deviance from which is subject to punishment; (b) sunnat, recommended voluntarily, neglect of which is not subject to punishment while obeyance is rewarded with merits; (c) mubah, indifferent and neutral, neither recommended nor prohibited; (d) mukruh, prohibited voluntarily, the neglect of which is not subject to punishment; and (e) haram, absolutely forbidden, the neglect of which is subject to punishment. 1. Interpretation of the Law The absence of a unified and centralized church organization, authorized to interpret the law universally among the entire ummat of the Islamic world, has traditionally imposed the task of maintaining and interpreting the law on Islamic scholars such as the ulama. Most of the legal codes are defined in the Quran and given examples in the Hadith, but problems of interpretation occur when certain ritual practices, ibadat, are not well defined. This set of ambiguous legal codes, called mutasy'abihat, have posed serious problems among scholars even after the establishment of the four legal schools, and some of the debates still continue among the ulama. The ulama generally solve the problem by consulting among themselves, referring to the compiled works and commentaries written by historic Islam scholars, and by reaching certain points of agreement, usually set forth by prominent kijaji to whom the ulama adhere. Some isolated ulama, therefore, face a serious problem, and some controversial issues have created various groups of alirans (sects). Most orthodox Indonesian ulama adhere to the Shafey school of law, but they are also tolerant of three other schools as long as the Muslems follow the same school consistently. The problem, in recent years, however, has === [PDF page 275] === 263 been the propagation of the modernist groups who emphasize logical consistency rather than the consistency of adherence to one school. The ulama have regarded the modernists' challenge against the orthodox ulamas' sole authority to interpret the law as a threat to the established legal tradition. The debate between the modernists and the orthodox ulama goes beyond the conflict between the taglid (blind obedience) method of transmitting the law from the ulama to santris, and the ijtithad method of applying logical mind and thought processes. The difference between the two groups in the question of law also offers a clue to understanding why rural ulama have been successful in rural communities, whereas the Modernists' influence has been limited to urban mercantile Muslem followers (Anwar 1969, Castle 1967:12-13). The orthodox ulama tend to be flexible and lenient with regard to questions not clearly defined or set forth by the Quran and Hadith, but they are strict with regard to those clearly set forth as either wajib (required duties) or haram (absolute prohibition). The mutasy'abihat, for example, the ulama tend to approach with tolerance. In the debate over the wasilah/dikir issue concerning the use of intermediaries for asking God's blessings and favors, for instance, the orthodox ulama allow themselves to become intermediaries for the troubled souls as long as both pray directly to God. The modernists, on the other hand, condemn all forms of intermediaries. On the subjects of wuduh (ritual cleansing before opening the Quran), or talkin (instructing the dead in the ways to answer the interrogation by the two angels), or kunut (the act of raising the arms before one's face in reception of God's blessings), the ulama allow the traditional patterns as acceptable, whereas the Modernists tend to adhere strictly to the ways they were practiced at the time of Muhammad. === [PDF page 276] === 264 On the other hand, the modernists allow for a greater extent of ruhso (God's lenience, tolerance and generosity) of the law in crisis situations demanding breach of ibadat (required law) on the subject of haram and halar (prohibition and permission) and wajib (requirement). It is generally understood among Islamic theologians that the law is absolute and unchangeable, but God also gives special consideration for those who breach the law, not willingly but out of necessity or sheer impossibility for doing otherwise. For example, the sick and the weak may be excused from fasting during the month of Ramadan, if it is proven that the compliance might endanger their lives. Some individuals cannot follow the prescribed ritual procedures because of physical handicaps. But the orthodox ulama tend to limit the application of ruhso to only a few cases, and prohibit unlimited application. For example, the modernists claim that if the only available food happens to be prohibited food, and it is sure that unless a person eats this food he is likely to die, then to take this prohibited food is inevitable and God will not punish the person for the act. The orthodox ulama on the other hand, claim that one may eat the food but he will be still subjected to punishment for the food is najis (dirty) regardless of the situation in which it is eaten and without regard to lack of alternatives. The ulama basically fear that too much application of ruhso might eventually threaten the future of Islamic law itself. It will not only confuse the Muslems' concept of absoluteness of the law, but also lead to an eventual alteration of the law itself. The modernists for example will not make up for prayers if they have had to miss them for proper reasons, whereas orthodox ulama claim one must pray five time daily regardless. In Priangan, the young and the old women cover their heads and the unmarried === [PDF page 277] === 265 girls still wear gloves even at the table, whereas in cities hardly any women bother to cover even their heads. Such a change, the ulama believe, stems from the Muslem's increasing claim for ruhso for internalization of the faith, while neglecting ritual requirements. Adat and ibadat The modernists have consistently condemned categorically all forms of adat practices simply because they are a part of pre-Islamic beliefs. The ulama on the other hand can incorporate and justify some adat practices in terms of Islamic doctrines. The ulama have a better understanding of the rural Muslems' concern for adat and ibadat. In contrast to the modernists demanding immediate changes, the ulamas' approach to Islamization processes is one of gradual change. Since the institutions of the ulamate in rural communities are family enterprises that are carried out over generations, time has bever been a primary concern of the ulama. They have been careful not to jeopardize either the faith, the ummat, or their positions by disrupting the affective life of the local population. Many forms of adat ritual practices are still found in Islamic villages, but a significant structural difference between adat and Islamic ibadat is maintained. The adat rituals and practices do not share the same and absolute domain with Islamic ibadat. A deviance from ibadat is believed subject to demerits and punishment in their eternal life, whereas adat 1s defined as proper customs transmitted from their ancestors, breach of which does not incur supernatural sanctions, or affect their prospective chances for attaining a Heavenly status. Adat rituals and practices can be eliminated, shortened, replaced or rearranged, where ibadat cannot. For example, in time, ethnic clothes may be replaced by modern dress as long as it satisfies === [PDF page 278] === 266 Islamic requirements, but Muslem women must always, regardless of time and space, cover their heads as it is ibadat. When both are practiced, ibadat always precedes adat. Ibadat also demands serious attention from the participants and witnesses. In Islamic ceremonies, the audience takes a quiet part as vntnesses, whereas in adat ceremonies and rituals, they become active participants. The ulama draw a clear line between polytheistic propitiatory adat ritual practices, such as burning incense and candles, offering food to appease spirits and deities, or making magical formulas, on the one hand, and avoidances, such as following the "direction of the day of the week", carrying certain magical amulets or keris to protect themselves from evil forces, and avoiding traditional tabooed things, on the other. But their own lack of consistency in prohibiting the entire adat practices of a magical nature seem to keep many unorthodox practices among the rural population. The Islamic belief of jinn and Satan also tend to confirm the spirit beliefs. Sometimes the adat avoidance rituals are justified in terms of ichtiar (efforts) of maintaining one's welfare, equivalent to taking pills when one is sick. Similarly, the traditional slametan communal rituals have survived, though in a different form. Traditional offerings to the spirits and deities have been dropped and replaced by Islamic prayers and communal feasts. The modernists have long condemned the latter but the rural ulama claim that slametan agrees with the Islamic principle of berjuma'at, communalism. Thus the structural continuity has remained but the content and the meaning of the ritual has changed. The ulamas' tolerance of some adat practices show not so much the ulamas' Ignorance or approval, but their careful attention to traditional === [PDF page 279] === 267 continuity to which the peasants are desperately clinging against forces of change. 2. Law Enforcement With regard to the law of social organization and practices and the rights and duties of individual members of families and communities, however, the ulama function as go-betweens who settle disputes. Sometimes they even serve as legal councelors assisting individuals to restore their legal rights. The ulama, however, do not extend such services indiscriminately, but depending upon the nature of the problem and the kind of individuals involved. For example, the ulama feel that the gade leasing practice is a violation of Islamic prohibition against usury, but they would not intervene with a case if it concerned outside villagers. They may preach proper legal conduct, but their authority to enforce the law is limited to their village community. They can intervene in affairs outside the parochial locality only in matters dealing with religious rituals, for these cases deal with matters of relationship with the supernatural. The ulama do not enforce such wajib (compulsory) requirements as zakat alms collection and distribution for fear of creating embarassment to the villagers and jeopardizing their positions. The problems for which the ulamas' legal help is frequently sought by Muslem villagers are related to family, marriage and inheritance. In these cases the ulama assumes the role of either the hakim, judge, or wakil, agent, to the Islamic court. The cases the ulama handle as hakims include settlements of land tenure, inheritance and change of marital statuses and the distribution of water in the fields. Sometimes a request is made to the ulama before a problem develops into a full-scale social dispute. One of such cases was === [PDF page 280] === 268 brought to the ulama when an old widow wanted to move out of the village and wanted to sell the plot of land she was entitled to inherit to her brother-in-law. The local ulama measured the entire plot, divided it between the two, and determined the value. When the widow's brother-in-law did not agree with the set value, the ulama challenged the man and told him that she was willing to purchase the land herself if he was not satisfied with it. Other times when a marriage is about to fall apart, the ulama may attempt to solve the problem and bring the couple together. The ulama also settle neighborhood quarrels and disputes as judges and mediators. If a villager is mistreated or deprived of his entitled rights, he can appeal to a local ulama to act as his agent and negotiate with his opponent. Again, the ulama carefully choose which cases to take and which to decline. For example, intra-village disputes over profit and loss in business dealings are deliberately ignored by the ulama since these questions tend to create cleavage rather than promote harmony. Two kinds of problems where ulama act as agents are inheritance disputes and settlements of divorce. If a land dispute becomes too serious and complicated and there is no sign of settlement through negotiations, the parties must appeal to the National Court for a settlement. In such a case the local ulama may still perform as an attorney representing a villager. Settlements of divorce are most likely to end up in the local KUA office, the extension service of religious affairs. The ulama are involved more frequently as representatives of wives requesting a divorce and alimony than of husbands. A marital problem inevitably leading to divorce begins with a wife's complaint to the local ulama of her husband's infidelity, polygamous practices or the consequent failure of her husband to meet the requirements set forth by the law. === [PDF page 281] === 269 Despite the prescription that a divorced woman is entitled to four kinds of alimony including the division of their property earned as man and wife, alimony for the first two months, and for raising children, many divorces result in no alimony at all simply because their husbands do not have much to give to begin with. Because of the matrilocal post-marital residence practice a woman has no problem of residence after divorce. The problem of alimony becomes an issue only when there is wealth and property to be divided. The ulama seldom involve themselves in a criminal case unless otherwise necessary as patrons of the community and to restore keslametan of their families, villagers and friends. Summary I have discussed in this chapter the ulamas' traditional tasks as Islamic functionaries, educators, and legal scholars. The ulama have performed their duties systematically through the institutions which their families have created to serve such functions. The institution of the pesantren has traditionally specialized in training leaders of Islamic communities just as much as in training cadres of the ulama. The madrasah institution has served the ulama for directly reaching the Muslem peasants and perpetuating the Muslem villagers' adherence to the faith. The recently created modern graded educational institutions have manifested the ulamas' endeavor to prepare the "intellectual" Muslem rural leaders, fit to serve the needs of the contemporary rural communities. The ulamas' families hope to advance Islamization through these institutional services to the Islamic communities. But the advance of Islamization has been slow, and their programs, in some ways, ineffective. But time has never been the ulamas' concern, for the family will continue to === [PDF page 282] === 270 work for the same goal their forefathers did in the past, but i t has been essential to maintain their authority. Without that authority, their institutions would cease to function and their effective socio-religious leadership would be jeopardized. === [PDF page 283] === Chapter VI THE ULAMA AND THE MUSLEM VILLAGERS In the previous chapter we saw that the ulama as an Islamic institution provide the community with a concrete set of educational, religious, and legal services, which effectively form the basis of the Muslem villagers' dependence upon the institution. In this chapter I will discuss the ulamas' structural positions vis-a-vis the Muslem villagers and show that the ulamas' influence is supported by the cultural context in which they perform their leadership roles. A. The Belief System and the Function of the Ulama Any institution has a set of self-generating and self-fulfilling mechanisms. It sets forth an ideology which justifies the existence of the institution and a set of rules which regulates the behavior of the individuals concerned (Goffman 1961). A set of religious behaviors of a group (Spiro 1966:117-120) can be accounted for by causal and functional modes. I have already discussed the self-generating aspects of the ulamas' family. Now I will show these aspects of the institution of the ulamate in relation to the villagers' belief system. In the rural Islamic village context, the ulama have maintained their position and perpetuated their institution because doctrinal Islam cannot generate itself nor can the Muslem believers achieve their religious goals without the institution of the ulamate. The ulama have traditionally transmitted doctrinal Islam over a geographical space and over generations. Their task has been to present a set of religious beliefs, values and action 271 === [PDF page 284] === 272 systems before the Muslem believers. They explain a set of comprehensive religious doctrines, and a set of rules for action necessary to achieve the Muslems' desired goal. Throughout their lives Muslems are heavily dependent upon the ulama, from the beginning of learning the faith and doctrines, acquiring values and comprehension, putting their values and beliefs into action, until achieving their desired goal of eternal salvation. The ulama integrate the religious system, the believers and the supernatural into a coherent whole, by serving as arbiters between them. As an institution, necessitated to self-generate and self-fulfill themselves, however, the ulama tend to preach the belief, action and the goals in such a way that the Muslem followers cannot achieve the goals by themselves. By having the Muslem believers depend upon them the ulama successfully perpetuate their influence and functions in Muslem communities. We will now look into the belief, value and action systems, and discuss the Muslem believers religious dependence upon the ulama. 1. The Belief System Cosmology 1: space Every Muslem villager learns that there are seven climes on the earth, seven layers of the sky, and another seven layers under the earth (see Figure 25). Men reside on Bumi, the earth. In the first layer of the sky, passing the antara (space in between), is found the moon, and Baytil Izzah (the place where the Quran was kept until it descended upon Muhammad). The sun 1s located on the fourth layer and on the same layer is the place called Baytal Makmur, located exactly above Mecca to which it is believed that 70,000 angels make their pilgrimages. The angels could climb only as far as Sidroltul Muntaha, located right above the last layer of the sky. On this level there is a kuping gaja (elephant ears), a tree with leaves on === [PDF page 285] === 273 A t r o f i l Alam (The end of space) Arasy Kursi THTab" Sidrotul Muntaha ANTARA Langit 7 (or Baytal Makmur) Langit 6 Langit 5 Langit 4 THE SKY Langit 3 Langit 2 Langit 1 (or Baytil Izzah) ANTARA Bumi 1 (or Ardu) antara Bumi 2 antara Bumi 3 antara Bumi 4 antara Bumi 5 antara Bumi 6 antara Bumi 7 Sidjin FIGURE 25 COSMOLOGY: SPACE THE EARTH === [PDF page 286] === 274 which names of all the living creatures are written. About 40 days before a person dies, the leaf with his name on it starts to get yellow and all the angels start whispering to each other about the coming death of the person. Most villagers know that Iliyyin (the heavenly place for the good Muslems after death) is located above the sky. The ulama could tell further that Muhammad left the angels behind when he ascended into the sky at this level. Muhammad ascended as high as the end of the universe, Atrofil Alam. In contrast to angels who live up in the sky, the Islamic spirits, jinn (created from fire and having no visible form), reside in between the earth 1 and earth 2. Sometimes people swimming in the springs can get sick because they interfere with the jinns emerging from the earth riding on bubbles in the water. Ibris, the father of all devils, resides in between the lowest layer of earth and the second lowest. He is the cause of all evil doings on earth. Sidjin (hell-like place for transgressors) is located beneath the lowest level of the earth. Cosmology 2: Time Location of Souls Transitional Events sky on earth Iliyyin or Sidjin Alam Sal am (realm of peace) Alam Dunia (this world) Alam Kubur (realm of the grave) bi "th Alam Acherat (world hereafter) dec ith doom's day FIGURE 26 COSMOLOGY: heaven or hell TIME === [PDF page 287] === 275 A man is made up of two elements, body (jasad) and soul (ruh). One's soul has existed from time immemorial somewhere up in the sky with the angels but it only takes a human form when the ruh_ (soul) is cast into a vessel of flesh, a human infant. As a person cannot choose his parents, neither can he choose to die. The realm of this world is sometimes called Alam Asybah because it is filled with God's creatures. It is also called Alam Hikmat, the world of pleasure, because the life on earth must have manfa'at, beneficial use, for man's eternal life; a man learns the purpose of his life in this world and appreciates God's blessings manifested in the things available in nature and the pleasures men enjoy. It is also referred to as Alam Mulki, because it is God's creation that we see around us, and as Alam Suahadat because the world is the place where men witness the truth of God, attempt to follow God's order, make merits and prepare for their course of life in the next world. When God decides it is time for a man to die, He sends his angels. One angel snatches the man's soul away from the body. When the man's body is buried, another two angels come to put back the soul into the body and waken the man in the grave to interrogate him about his life before death. Then a good Muslem is lifted up to the Iliyyin where he will rest with nikmat (comfort) until the Last Judgment Day. Kafirs (nonbelievers) and Kufurs (misbelievers) will be thrown into Sidjin like prisoners where they will feel siksa (torturous pain). On Hari Qiama (doom's day) the Angel Isropil will blow a trumpet whereupon every living soul will die and the world will collapse on itself. Then the rain will fall for 40 days until it settles the ground. With the second trumpet call, all the souls of the deceased men will be given a new body of flesh, and they will all come out of their graves like seeds === [PDF page 288] === 276 growing out of the ground. Then each person will wait for his turn to appear before God and receive his sentence. For sinful men, the time of waiting is torturous because the ground is destroyed and the sun will continue to shine over the desert. For good Muslem men, the time of waiting is comfortable since they will be given shade of trees to cover themselves. As a man passes a bridge going into the court, a man doomed for neraka, hell, is given in his left hand a pass to the gates of Hell and a record of his conducts during his life on earth, while a man recommended to surga, heaven, will be given in his right hand a pass to heaven and a letter of recommendation. But a kafir, unbeliever, is given a pass to eternal hell in his hand with his arm twisted behind his back. On the resurrection day, the merits and demerits persons have accumulated in their lives will be weighed. Those who have heavier merits than demerits may perhaps be allowed to enter heaven if God pardons all the wrong-doings of their demerits, or else they will be sent to hell first to cleanse off their demerits. Nobody knows how exactly the process will be, because all will depend upon God's kurnia (blessings). Sometimes people with a lot of merits, like an ulama, may be sent to hell, whereas a man with little merits may be sent to heaven if God so desires. It is not the merits that count for eternal salvation but God's blessings. A Muslem man, however, could hope for heaven with the help of merits. Alam Acherat is eternal. There is no duty to perform, no merit to make and no chance of changing their fate. Acherat is the place of God's pemberesan (adjudication) either in the form of punishment or reward. Heaven is characterized by all the humanly pleasures such as wide space, wealth, beauty, delicious food, desirable companions and above all, a sense === [PDF page 289] === 277 of being close to God Himself. Hell, on the other hand, is marked by tortures of f i r e, f i e r y food and drink, and eternal damnation. A l l Muslems are guaranteed, however, that they w i l l eventually be allowed to enter heaven only after spending some time 1n hell for their demerits. The Divine Supernatural Allah The religion of Islam i s based on the belief in the almightiness of Allah. His omnipotence stems from (1) man's i n a b i l i t y to control the causal relationship between his intentions to carry out certain things and the f i n a l outcome, while other things take place without any planning on man's part at a l l, and (2) man's i n a b i l i t y to create the things of nature by himself; "who could make r i c e in a laboratory without the l i g h t of the sun, or the blessings of God?", because both man and nature are the creations of God, and not vice-versa. What happened in the past, what goes on now in the present, and what w i l l happen in the future are attributed to God's w i l l. Men are in no position to know God's plan, rahasia Tuhan (God's secret), or the extent of His might. Because of his omnipotence, He can cause miracles beyond human comprehension, and tragedies beyond the realm of tolerance. Because God is almighty,he is all-decreeing. One must obey perintah Tuhan (God's command) as revealed by Muhammad. There is no way for a man to cheat the all-knowing God. Since childhood, the Muslem villagers are enculturated into the belief and acquire the values associated with the b e l i e f. By the time they are adult there is no room l e f t f o r any questioning. There is no i r r a t i o n a l i t y involved in their acceptance of the f a i t h, or even blind obedience to their parents' teachings. l i f e patterns. I t is the total f a i t h that seems to regulate their To give an example, when I traveled with the head of the ulamas' family to Sumatra, I observed the ways she interacted with the === [PDF page 290] === 278 things and events she encountered. On the way she was more than willing to give money to every beggar, sometimes even grabbing their sleeves if they missed her, for to give money to beggars is meritorious. When she saw barren homa dry land stretching in the southern part of the island, she commented how blessed she was back in West Java where the land is fertile and there is plenty of water to grow rice. When she saw the ocean, she marveled at the power of God. The sight of a child with skin diseases lying in the street was not so much frightening as "filthy" to her state of "purity." She was courageous enough to get on a plane but she prayed all the way, and every time I said something immoral or against the Islamic principles, she stuck out her right index finger and recited Shahadat for God's pardon on my behalf. There are 99 attributes of God (Sifat Tuhan), but except for being recited at time of immediate need for blessings, these attributes do not seem to mean very much to Muslem villagers. Among them 20 attributes are most important and are memorized but all of these amount to one concept, the fear of God. Men are taught to fear God for the fear alone drives a Muslem believer to good conduct in the light of law, but in reality God is feared because He is believed.to punish men and send them to eternal damnation (cilaka) or to bring tragedy and siksa (torture), for no reason, in this world or the next. Man's relationship with God is sometimes described the same as man's relationship with his own goat; if a man wants to kill his goat he can do so because he owns the goat, and in a similar manner God can do anything he wants with man, because man belongs to Him. There is nothing one can do about God's will, except ask for His blessings by obeying His law and accumulating plenty of merits. And yet there 1s no knowing whether God will grant the petition or not. === [PDF page 291] === 279 For Muslem villagers, Allah is not at all a saving God. no hope for the future, for he is the all-powerful and just. He guarantees God is allpowerful, all-decreeing, and all-knowing, and men's fate is either eternal damnation in hell or eternal salvation in heaven. What is more, the Muslem villagers' relationship with the Divine is impersonal. A Muslem man could petition God for mercy, forgiveness, good lucks, help or inspiration, but only through the recitation of the proper sura (chapters of the Quran) suited for the occasion. Most villagers do not even speak the Arabic language necessary to communicate with the Divine, nor do they feel virtuous enough to make sure that their petition is granted. They must ask their children, who speak no Arabic nor understand the content of the words, to recite and pray on their behalf, hoping God will hear petitions of the innocent. The overwhelming fear of God among the Muslem villagers, and the impersonality and regimentation which characterizes man's relationship with the Divine, generate the need for the ulama to act as intermediaries or arbiters between the two, despite the Islamic doctrine against priestly intermediaries. We will develop this discussion later. The lesser supernaturals The Muslem villagers' interaction with the Divine is rigid and impersonal. One cannot do anything when the Will of God is determined. But God reveals himself through various agents, among which are the lesser supernaturals. The lesser supernaturals are earthly, and the Muslem villagers' relationship with the lesser supernaturals is real, direct, and personal, leaving yet more room for manipulation. Theoretically every phenomenon is the manifestation of God's will, but the lesser supernaturals, except for the angels, are treated as if autonomous and are held responsible === [PDF page 292] === 280 for things that can't be accounted for by God's will. When God created the world, He filled the earth with His creations. All the plants and animals except men were created from water, and He created Abuljan and the angels from fire, and assigned Abuljan as the teacher of the angels. Abuljan also fathered jinns (the Islamic spirits). All these creatures, Abuljan, the angels, and jinns, do not have form and therefore remain invisible. When God created Adam from clay, however, he ordered all the creatures on earth to honor him because he was the only one of God's creatures shaped after the image of God, with a gift of akal (mind, brain). Abuljan refused to honor the superiority of Adam, because Abuljan was created first and from fire. Then God sent him away and allowed him to remain only as Ibris, the devil, until doomsday in order to prove himself superior to Adam's descendants. This explains why satan still tries to trick and lead man into temptations so as to prove that man's akal as the seat of reason and virtue is not effective against evil forces. God, in turn, sent a series of Nabis, prophets, through which to reveal Himself and to teach man how to avoid satan's ways. Angels were created as God's agents. They do only what God orders them to do. Unlike jinns or man, the angels do not have an akal or heart. Among thousands of angels a few notable ones are well-known such as: Jibriel, who transmitted God's commands to all the prophets and helped lead Muhammad's flight from Mecca to Jerusalem and his ascension to heaven; Munkar and Manakir, the two angels who examine Muslems in the grave; Isropil who will blow the trumpet to announce the day of doom; Mikael who brings God's blessings to man, and Ijroil, whose function is to snatch man's soul at the time of death. === [PDF page 293] === 281 The jinns are the most misunderstood lesser supernaturals of all for the Muslem villagers, partly because they are often confused with the indigenous spirits who are both tricky and malicious characters. Some people say that jinns are just like men except that they cannot be seen because of their skin, which is fine like tapioca flour. Some are kafir or kufur and others are Muslem jinns. They must abide by God's law and ibadat (requirements) in the same manner as men do and their souls will follow the same course as men until the last judgment day. Jinns eat, work, procreate and die like men. Some reside in men's houses and some eat men's food and leftovers from their plates. Good Muslem jinns are often useful as they become the instruments of Sufi saints with knowledge of ilmu, the religious sciences. The Sufi saints are believed to have special powers. Jinns are believed to fly with the same speed as light, reduce their size to a micron, and exert the power and efficiency of a large number of men. When their special qualities are used by Sufi saints, they serve good purposes, but kafir and kufur jinns can be manipulated by unreligious men for their own evil ends. For example, jinns could be employed to attack enemies and cause mental insanity. However, jinns are inferior to men because they must rely on men for their survival. The villagers compare the jinns to mischievous men. By disguising themselves, they trick men into fallacy and tragedy, particularly if they are kafir jinns. They can berjelmen(transform themselves into men), scare people, tempt men, or they can turn a table upside down to snatch food from men. Many of these attributes told by the villagers show how much jinns are confused with jurig, the native spirits, which are also invisible, mischievous, and often malicious. Jurigs are believed to confuse old men, === [PDF page 294] === 282 children, adolescent girls and pregnant women, sometimes leading them astray. Jurigs are often associated with water. They are called burcarang and cause a large wave to swallow men at the shore. Some jurigs, called Taibentan, are said to fly into the sky and are shot by angels' arrows and fall down to earth. These spirits reside in dark places under bushes, by swampy river banks, around garbage pits, around graveyards and other "dirty" places. The old, the young and females are discouraged from nearing such places for it is believed that they would be easily possessed by these wounded jurigs. Once they possess men, the jurigs become satan gebeleg, causing insanity in the possessed. Jurigs are believed to come out in the evening between six and eight, just around sunset, to collect food. Sometimes out of frustration jurigs called Dirawu Kelonq (similar to Balinese Randa with long hair, nails and pendulous breasts) are believed to snatch children away from the garden. During this time of day, children are advised to remain at home and engage in religious activities, and all the food must be covered. Jinns are also confused with wandering human souls, or ghosts (hantu), particularly on Thursday night when the Muslem villagers read the sura Yasin for the deceased to obtain mercy and forgiveness from God. The souls (ruh) of those who have either died a tragic or unusual death or have nobody to pray on their behalf after death are believed to appear around the mosque or their graves to obtain human attention and bother people in the mosque or on the paths. Belief in these invisible, mischievous or malicious creatures does not remain simply in fiction to scare children but is repeatedly confirmed by reported incidents that have taken place in and around the village, thereby leading both adults and children alike into genuine fear of spirits. The === [PDF page 295] === 283 following reports were cited by the villagers. In the nearby village of Tegalkiang, several years ago, there was a young man in his late teens who had joined the nightly patrol of the village. On his way home he suddenly fell unconscious, and the next morning when he woke up, he found himself in the top of a tree. People attributed this to Pirawu Kelong's works. In the village of Cipari one evening two boys disappeared. Everyone in the village went out to look for them but they could not be found. Around 7:30 a young man of the village went around the village with a lamp and found the two boys squatting right by the mosque. The young man tried to Dull them up but they were like stones nailed to the ground. So he washed his face in the pond and recited Shahadat a few times, and the boys woke up. They reported to their family that they were picked up by a gigantic black figure with a beard and traveled with him around the rice fields and flew over the houses, and both lost their consciousness and did not know until they were awakened by the man. When one of the three sisters of the ulamas' family was a young and pretty girl, she had troubles believed to be caused by her former lover whom she refused to marry. He employed a black magician in Tasik. She was often taken by a mysterious power into the fish pond and was almost drowned, and she was taken atop a house and fell, and all the time she was completely unconscious. She found pins and needles in her food, and was almost choked to death one evening. Her father finally talked with his friends who suggested planting certain kinds of plants around the house and the whole ordeal was over. It was suggested that it was the work of kafir jinns manipulated by the black magician. The distinction between jurig, hantu or jinn are only arbitrary, for all of them boil down to spirits and the reactions among Muslem villagers to them are the same: the fear of the uncontrollable supernatural persons. Action and Value Systems Orthodox Islam has traditionally presented contradictory theories, the problem of which orthodox Islamic scholars have tried to solve for many centuries, and develop into a coherent theology. The orthodox Indonesian ulama and scholars refer to the works of scholars in other Continents in their attempts to solve certain questions. While the doctrines and moral principles of Indonesian Islam are not far divorced from those of other Islamic centers of the world, in action as it is practiced by village === [PDF page 296] === 284 Muslems is yet another matter. It is this discrepancy that bears the crucial answers to the ambiguous nature of the village Muslems' belief and practices. The goal of the village Muslems' religious activities is to obtain ridloh (consent and blessings) of God and to achieve keslametan (salvation) in this world and the next. What they ask is humble indeed: the safety of their beloved family and just about enough material necessities to survive. Their image of the ideal life in the next world also reflects what they hope for in this world; rather than luxury and comforts, they hope for peaceful sleep and rest. "Once you achieve eternal salvation you do not have to labor for meals, clothing and shelter, you do not have to worry if life tomorrow is secure or not", the village women say. These timid aspirations seem to articulate their overwhelming fear of hell, as if to say that if one can escape from the torturous fires of hell he is lucky enough, let alone to be provided with all sorts of comforts and heavenly pleasures. Against such a belief all the theological complications and contradictions have little to do with what they do for their religious goals. The Muslem villagers seldom question the integrity of their religious principles and doctrine. On the unconscious level, however, the conflict between faith and doubt seems evident as they find themselves caught between efforts for a desired goal and God's will which is independent of both man's efforts and desires. No such question, however, is brought up to the ulama, like for instance: "If everything is determined by God's will, are all the evils on earth willed by God? If everything is determined by God, why should Muslem believers strive for aoing good, obeying God's commands, and hoping to achieve salvation?" Rather than attempting to comprehend such theological === [PDF page 297] === 285 questions, Muslem villagers concentrate on their efforts to follow the ulamas' guidance, for it is an obsessive goal that they hope to escape the fate of falling into eternal damnation in torturesome hell. The ulama instruct the villagers to obey God's commands, do good works (amal perbuatan yang baik, or anu sae, Sundaness), earn as many merits as possible by doing ibadat, ritual and other requirements, while avoiding sinful acts (dosa, sins) and demerits. As simply fundamentalistic as it may sound, however, the relationship between the Muslem villagers' action and belief is far more complicated than it suggests. I will begin with the concept of God's will. The conflict between God's will (taqdir) and the Muslem followers' self-determination through effort (ichtiar) has been a classic issue among Muslem theologians. The belief in the doctrine of taqdir is most fundamental to the faith because it touches upon God's omnipotence over the course of human events. not It explains why man's efforts to achieve ends always end with success. Not to believe in God's will, then, is as serious an offense as questioning the absolute nature of His almightiness. Several observers have noted, however, that in Islam there is a gap between the belief in absolute fate and Muslems' actions. For example, Elder (1966) noted that Hindu believers held an absolute fatalism concerning both belief and action, but the Muslems held it in belief but less in action. The Islamic concept of fate differs from the kind of fatalism that leaves little room for a man's efforts for self-improvement and determination. Rather, it is condemned that one should submit to fate, to give up hope and remain sunk in self-indulgence. Ichtiar (effort making) is wajib, a requirement for Muslem believers. The ulama preach that they should make === [PDF page 298] === 286 e f f o r t, i n i t i a t e attempts to alter one's station i n l i f e and l i v i n g conditions, and advance one's religious knowledge for God w i l l surely reward such e f f o r t s. Man's e f f o r t s, however, suffer from a l i m i t i n determining the f i n a l outcome. This is where the belief in taqdir and God's w i l l comes i n: " I t is a man's duty to make e f f o r t but he is not responsible for the actual result, f o r only God's w i l l determines the outcome. For example, i f one attempts to make a t r i p from Garut to Bandung, he should calculate what time he should leave to avoid a t r a f f i c jam, he should choose the best seat in case of an accident (e.g. closer to the door may be better than i n the back), and f i n a l l y he should recite Bismi11 ah ( i n God's name) for God's protection. But a man is out of control when i t comes to the question whether he may reach Bandung safe and sound; bad weather may cause a s l i p, carelessness of the driver may cause an accident, and satan may t r i c k the driver and blind him. In the final end i t is God who determines the outcome of the t r i p. Furthermore, i f one f a i l s in his attempt, a Muslem man must not grudge against the r e s u l t, nor should he feel arrogant about his successful attempt. The common idealogical solution to the conflicting issue of i c h t i a r and taqdir i s the "mean" or middle point between the two extremes. This makes sense i n this l i f e, but what about the l i f e afterwards? How could a man make e f f o r t and hope for eternal salvation against the doctrine of tagdir? Does making as many merits as possible guarantee eternal salvation? Every Muslem's conscientious moral and religious a c t i v i t i e s are made i n reference to merit making. For example, when a villager goes to a market, he interacts with a petty trader in an attempt to make a bargain and buy f o r the cheapest p r i c e. This man spent at least three minutes === [PDF page 299] === 287 haggling before finally the petty trader pleaded with him that if he sold it for the price demanded by the villager, he would have made no profit, which he needs to support his family. The villager offered to pay the original price, because now the question was not a business transaction but a religious one: he pays more for the merchandise expecting to gain merits in the life afterward. The ulama say that doing good and obeying God's commands is like adding savings in the bank account because in the life afterwards, they can withdraw the profit in the form of merits from the heavenly bank for their own life afterwards. That Muslem villagers strive for merits expecting heavenly rewards in the afterlife sounds rational. But there is still no knowing how effective these merits will be when it comes to the question of determining one's course in the eternal afterlife. It remains as a hope rather than a belief that God might respond favorably to those who obey His law and have strong faith. Muslem men can make efforts and attempt to alter their life on this earth, and make merits while they are alive, but God's will in the form of taqdir persists until the day of resurrection. Because on that day there is no "mean", but only the condemned and the honored. On the Last Judgment Day, every man is believed to fa"e God and get his merits and demerits counted and weighed (hisab). However much one is believed to have accumulated merits, one can only hope that his merits will please God and obtain His kurnia, blessings, and thereby acquire eternal salvation. But still there is no guarantee of this. On the other hand, an evil man should not give up hope for salvation either, for "God is like the President and he is empowered to grant pardon and amnesty and He may allow a sinner into heaven." === [PDF page 300] === 288 The absence of a guarantee of eternal salvation in Islamic belief seems to have two connected influences upon the village Muslems: on the one hand, merit-making becomes an obsession, while on the other hand i t magnifies the fear of eternal damnation. f o r several good reasons. The fear remains with Muslem villagers They feel short of the religious knowledge necessary to avoid every possible transgression, f a i t h to carry out the religious teachings, resources necessary to realize their good intentions, and ultimately merits necessary to acquire God's blessings and eternal salvation. The relationship between belief and action among village Muslems is a suitable case for Weberian analysis; the absence of a guaranteed promise of salvation drives them into a constant e f f o r t for merit-making. On the level of action, however, merit-making becomes an end i t s e l f rather than a means, and by this means Muslem villagers seem to come to terms with the c o n f l i c t between merits and God's w i l l. merits there is no salvation. making. In the f i n a l analysis, without So day and night they strive for merit- Every Muslem can hope to gain merits by attending religious lectures, by having a large number of children and raising them to be proper Muslem believers, by doing God's commands in matters of sharing wealth, food, and prayers, and of being good to strangers and the needy, or seeing the angels' descent on the night of Lailatul Qadar during the fasting month. But some channels for merit-making are open only discriminately. For example, a Muslem man must have economic resources with which to help the needy. Men tend to acquire more merits by berjuma'at, playing together in a congregation, than a woman does praying alone at home. All these thisworldly discriminations are attributed to God's w i l l and taqdir, but so is the f i n a l outcome as to whether these earned merits w i l l count enough for === [PDF page 301] === 289 achieving eternal salvation or not. The modernists claim that i f one is poor and dumb, God may be lenient in judging one's merits. On the other hand, God may be tough on rich or learned men because of the favored condition of their l i v e s. But the ulama preach an absolute rather than relative scale in weighing merits against demerits. of knowing for Muslem followers. There is j u s t no way One can only strive f o r merits and hope for the best. The fear of God and eternal damnation derives not only from a sense of insufficiency about one's merits, but also from the continuous struggle to do good and obey God's orders against this-worldly temptations to do otherwise. Sin (dosa) is attributed to the characteristics of human nature and satan's evil intentions. Villagers are j u s t as much frightened of demerits as they are eager for merits. I t is believed that a man commits a sinful act as a consequence of exterior and i n t e r i o r factors. First, there is satan's temptation, and then one's own nafsu ( l u s t or animal-like desire) which responds to the temptation. I f a man has strong f a i t h (iman), i t w i l l cool the hot nafsu, and then his akal (mind) w i l l function properly, and remember God's teachings. But i f a man's f a i t h is weak, nafsu overwhelms the akal, and akal ceases to remember God's teachings and f a i l s to choose what is right from wrong. I t is not a simple dichotomy as the battle between akal and nafsu as Siege! pointed out in The Rope of God (1969), but i t is intertwined with iman ( f a i t h ) and satan. Let me develop this point as villagers see the question. Man is born with four major elements: body (jasad) and soul (ruh) on the one hand, and akal and nafsu on the other. Akal was put into Adam by God to govern behavior with reason while nafsu to appreciate God's blessings with. I f akal is the seat of judgment, then nafsu is the driving force for === [PDF page 302] === 290 action. Nafsu is located in one's heart, but it is not always bad: A man has bad and rebellious desires that have no direction at all, but he also has a desirous nafsu as well which compels him to do good and follow God's commands. When a man acquires religious teachings and develops his faith, then his desires accord with good nafsu in which case his akal remains tenang ("cool"), but unfortunately a man's faith is never constant because of the evil forces of satan. When weakened his evil and less desirable nafsu may overcome the good one, and dominate his heart and mind. If a man remembers to be patient, and to fear God, then he will stop evil temptations and save himself from the road to cilaka (damnation) and go back to the road of keslametan (salvation). Thus a man is in constant battle between good nafsu and bad nafsu, a battle which is called jihad akbar (a great war) compared to a this-worldly "small" war. Both iman (faith), and akal could only assist the war with the help of ajaran agama (religious teachings). Thus the first thing a Muslem must learn is the teachings, and then to strengthen his iman, suppress wrong nafsu, encourage good nafsu, and put them into practice, ibadat, the acts of requirement. Akal, iman, and ajaran agama lead a man into the way of keslametan, while satan and wrong nafsu lead him astray and into an eventual cilaka. Given the framework of cilaka and keslametan, hoping to be able to lead himself into salvation, the Muslem villager is keenly aware of his state of jiwa (emotion). He pays particular attention to the state of jiwa and treats it with care. The state of jiwa is roughly described in terms of temperature, either hot or cold, in a manner similar to that used to diagnose conditions of one's physical state, and both are treated with equal care. A sudden emotion or lust is caused by satan and nafsu, and it === [PDF page 303] === 291 is "hot", a red sign for danger and the road to cilaka. Kesal (fed up) and jengkel (irritation) are undesirable states of emotion, describing anger and upset. The state of emotional disturbance is believed to be the phenomenon whereby a satan jinn has come to dominate the akal (mind) completely as the result of the man's weak faith and strong nafsu. At an early stage, the mental patient could be brought to a dukun, a local specialist, and undergo exorcism of the satanic jinn, but if the state persists for a long time, it requires an ulama's assistance for a recovery. The treatment for mental illness or emotional disturbances concentrates on recovering equilibrium in both body and mind, because the illness is believed to be caused by an unusually high, or "hot", temperature. The patients are given cold baths, cold massages, cold drinks, and cold food (food that is hard to digest is called "hot food" such as animal meat and nuts, whereas fish, chicken meat, and juicy non-fibrous fruit are called "cold"), and they are kept in a cold and dark room without a lamp. Then the patients are expected to cool down both mentally and physiologically, and recover akal from the suppressive nafsu and satan jinn and come to control their undesirable nafsu. The same ideas are projected in the analysis of personality traits. Panas watak (hot personality) refers to people who easily lose their tempers, get in fights or conduct themselves lustfully without considering their akal. Tenang jiwa (calm emotion) is attributed to a man with total control of his behavior in accordance with akal. He does not get upset by circumstances and can remain in the "mean". To Muslems, then, ajaran agama and the fear of God function to "cool" and soothe the mind and heart to prevent them from committing an act leading to cilaka (damnation). If a man has already committed an offense (kufur) and a breach of ibadat requirements, === [PDF page 304] === 292 however, the only way for him to gain salvation is through merit-earning and praying for God's forgiveness. A man who feels his akal and desirable nafsu are not good enough for achieving salvation may resort to an extreme measure such as self-denial and discipline. By depriving himself of security and pleasure, such a man wanders around and puts himself totally in God's hands (takwa) in the manner of a Sufi practitioner. I encountered three men of this persuasion during my stay in Cipari. Despite their unusual behavior patterns, they were respected by the villagers and looked up to with awe. To some degree, however, most Muslem villagers are in need of self-purification from sin, nafsu, and temptations, and engage in either deprivation or certain comforts, such as less sleep, less food, and less drink, or imposing difficulties upon themselves, such as walking rather than taking an easy ride to the madrasah pengajian lectures, or attending the furthest possible mosque for the five daily prayers. By carefully tending their state of jiwa, the Muslem villagers attempt to cool their nafsu and thereby avoid doing wrong whenever its hot and sudden desire emerges. But the battle is continuous until death. Except for Sufi saints who are detached from earthly things and free from temptations, the fear of God's wrath and the threat of cilaka remains in every Muslem's mind as he assiduously attempts to make merits. In the endlessly vicious cycle of fear-induced merit-making against the inevitable force of taqdir, the ulamas' role as an arbitrator becomes crucial in fulfilling both the psychological and religious needs of the villagers. The Muslem villagers are heavily dependent upon the ulama for achieving what seems to them to be a hopeless end. Firstly, they acquire a knowledge of ibadat, the basis of merit-making, from the ulama. Secondly, the ulama === [PDF page 305] === 293 are instrumental for gaining merits, for they offer religious programs and provide the villagers with facilities necessary to pursue religious activities. Thirdly, the ulama function as intermediaries or arbiters between God and the ummat. They give advice and religious guidance to the troubled, encourage them to recite certain sura, Quranic chapters, in order to quickly attain God's blessings. Upon request, they even offer to pray on their behalf, if immediate blessings are needed. If it becomes necessary, the ulama even practice exorcism. The rural ulama are more important as religious teachers and preachers than as scholars for the village Muslems. It is partly because not many ulama have creative minds and original thoughts like the kijaji do, and partly because there is little demand for scholarship in the local context unless they operate a large pesantren on the university level. Within this limited realm of ability and demand, however, the ulama provide the Muslem villagers with significant meaning to life in general, present a set of beliefs, values and actions and give them hope for eternal salvation. The ulamas' enduring power in Muslem communities derives exactly from their soul-saving functions and their grip on the villagers' hopes of eternal salvation. Though the ulama like to refer to their duties as nu_r (lamp) or obat (medicine) for those whose mind and future are gelap (dark and hopeless), the ulama successfully manipulate the Muslem villagers' dependence upon their services by increasing their fear of damnation in hell. The ulama function as mediators between the Divine and ordinary Mohamedans, between the doctrine and action, and between their hope for salvation and fear of eternal damnation. To Muslem villagers, only the ulama can help them attain their primary religious goal, the function so unique that no other group can replace them. The Divine, the doctrine and === [PDF page 306] === 294 the Muslem believers have thus allowed the ulama to become self-generating and self-fulfilling with regard to the legitimacy of the institution and their influence. B. The Strategy of the Ulamas' Power and Influence Not all the Islamic functionaries are ulama nor do all the ulama enjoy the same status, authority and influence. The incorporation process of the ulamas' status and authority into the local system is gradual and not always successful, depending upon several other factors, such as their skills to recruit and keep their followers under their influence. The title of ulama is neither ascribed because of birth in an ulama's family, nor achieved because of educational achievements, but rather it is attributed to the ulama by Muslem communities not only for their scholarly expertise but also for their services and the influence they exert over Muslem communities. It is not uncommon, for example, for a previously influential kijaji to be reduced to the status of an ustad (ngaji teacher) when his religious and social functions are stripped from him as the result of a dislocation of his institutions, family, and community, or because he suddenly became physically disabled or social discredited. The ulamas' Individual qualities before the community and their skills to perform both social and religious functions are therefore crucial for maintaining their power and influence and perpetuating their position in the society. this section I will discuss qualities, skills and endeavors of the ulama in their attempt to perpetuate their positions in rural Muslem communities. 1. Moral Credibility The ulama are most concerned about meeting the expectations of Muslem followers as morally superior Muslem leaders and patrons of the community. === [PDF page 307] === 295 Once an ulama's moral credibility is discredited his power to command villagers to obey the Islamic law, to mobilize them for the expansion of the institution, and to act as an intermediary between disputing parties will cease to function, since the ulamas' authority is basically a moral authority whose legitimacy derives from the villagers' trust upon the ulama. The ulama represent ideals of Muslems' highest values and virtues, and it is this difference from commoners that makes them superior to the rest. If an ulama fails to meet these expectations, then the community would have nothing to feel ashamed of in their failure to comply with the ulama's commands and would turn to someone else. Because of this vulnerable nature of their authority, ulama are always watchful of their conduct and reputation, while at the same time maneuvering their social image before the community to fit to the latter's expectations. The alama are careful, for example, in selecting the domain of their decisions to be practiced in the community. Cases which appear to be potentially threatening to their moral integrity and which might jeopardize their basic trust relationships with the community are avoided intentionally. In Cipari and elsewhere they never take the role of prosecutor against a villager in favor of the outsiders. They no longer covertly practice political influence at the time of national elections, and unless asked, they do not interfere with the domains of other ulama in other villages. Even certain problems of the villagers are left untouched by the ulama if the problems do not relate directly to their concerns either as village leaders or upholders of the law. For example, the ulama would give advice and might even force a man into the settling of his marital problems if he refused to support his family, but they would not get mixed up with a cace of creditor-debtor disputes. === [PDF page 308] === 296 For the same reasons the ulama are wary of offending their followers without justification. As a moral guardian and enforcer, an ulama would come out aggressively when an appeal was made from a man of injustice and misconduct, but he must be careful not to alienate his followers, even when tne latter have infuriated the ulama. The ulama in Cipari carefully attempt to assure the kesayangan ("affection") of the community by distributing new harvests from the field, and fish caught from the pond. Sometimes the ulama will send a package of gifts to those who only one hour before he had disdained and scorned for their misconduct. The distinction is important; when the ulama scorn misconduct and injustice, they stand for the defense of religious principles and the moral code as religious leaders, but they do not wish to stigmatize their followers to such an extent as to destroy their trust relationship. In this way, the ulama are psychologically adept at maneuvering within these limits. In the same manner as Weber's charismatic authority, the ulamas' moral credibility needs to be continuously displayed to assure their leadership roles. Their influence is traditionally and religiously sanctioned by their institutional roles but their effective control of the community as social leaders requires certain individual qualities, particularly when there is a potential competition for leadership. I will show two cases from my notes which illustrate an ulama's concern with his own image in the community. Participants in the pre-Revolutionary political parties are given pensions for their contribution in the struggle for Indonesian Independence. When recently the government reopened registration for pensioners who had not previously applied, the ulama were put in an awkward position, because they were aware that many villagers who sacrificed themselves during the most dangerous period of the Revolutionary war were not political party members but followers of the kijaji in Wanaraja, whereas those from the nearby villages who acquired pensions had not been active political members willing to sacrifice themselves at the time. When some of these new pensioners === [PDF page 309] === 297 brought half of their first check to the ulama as a contribution to the family's Islamic projects, the ulama refused to accept the donation claiming that he had no right to accept the donation. It was his way of showing the sense of righteousness before those who had not received pensions. Shortly after I had begun conducting interviews with the villagers, the head of the ulamas' family requested to visit and interview people who lived in small houses as well. We had just interviewed a few families who happened to be better-off than most others in the village. Her intention was that I should show interest equally between the poor and the rich but, what was more, she was afraid of being accused of falling short of advising me to that effect by the poor families. 2. Maintaining Desirable Social Structure Communities located along highways or close to major towns, or villages which are cut by roads, are usually made up of a heterogeneous population, because social control of population-flow into the community cannot be effectively enforced as a result of the heterogeneous landownership pattern. Remote, isolated, and economically less important villages, on the other hand, tend to maintain a homogeneous population pattern. Though it has become more and more difficult to maintain this over the years, such villages are usually dominated by genealogically related families, who restrict sale of their property either to other family members, or to absentee landlords. Even if they may sell to outsiders who intend to move into the village, these lands tend to be located at the fringes of the village or are of only marginal importance, as was the case in Cipari. The ulamas' status-quo is more likely to be affected by change in the local economic structure, landownership and consequent population distribution than the effects of over-all change of the complex society. The ulama have not resisted a general wave of modernization and technology. the contrary, they have been instrumental in such changes as adoption of new agricultural techniques, fertilizers and seeds, or creating educational and economic opportunities for the peasant masses. But they have strongly === [PDF page 310] === 298 resisted pressures upon their land and altering the pattern of the homogeneous population in their immediate locality for such a change is disruptive to the cohesiveness of the community and threatening to the ulamas' influence. Some elements of urban culture and values which are also hazardous and disruptive to the family's projects and the status quo are strongly opposed by the ulama. The ulama skillfully maneuver their chances by eliminating possible challenge to their authority both culturally, socially and economically. In towns and heterogeneous villages they have seen many ulama who have lost both religious and social influence. 3. Personal Style and Images Selflessness, dedication to Islamic causes, unstereotypic exhibition of personal charm and humor, and command of rhetorical skill are attributes of those ulama with considerable influence over large territory. These qualities are not necessarily required of local village ulama whose concerns lie with a specific geographically bounded community, but are beneficial nevertheless to attracting followers and santri students to their pesantren institutions. A distinguished religiousness makes up an important element of the ulamas' personal public reputation. Most ulamas' houses are neatly cleaned and shined to give an impression of their "purity" and many ulama and hajis wear white pici hats, and scarves across their shoulders. Some ulama do not even meet with women, since women represent contamination. It is also common among them to use a scarf or gloves to avoid direct contact at the time of greetings. An interesting case, however, is the kijaji in Wanaraja who abhores such practices and attempts to carefully avoid making visible differences from commoners, preferring to wear Malay black shirts, black pici hats, and sometimes sweaters and a suit. Though their === [PDF page 311] === 299 intentions d i f f e r, both of their motives are to give a suitable image of themselves before the public. Such unusual backgrounds as having majored in European literature l i k e the ulama i n pesantren Cintawana, Tasik, or having been a Catholic priest previous to his conversion to Islam (Professor Musadaad of IAIN in Bandung) also a t t r a c t public attention, though they are not necessarily essential to the maintenance of t h e i r positions. What counts most, however, is not so much images and and unusual background but individual ulamas' s k i l l s and qualities as effective social leaders and speakers. Among them are rhetorical s k i l l, humor, personal dynamism and a touch of cynicism against the establishment. Most influent i a l ulama must engage i n pengajian speeches to expand their realms of influence. A well-known ulama in Bandung, for example, has not attended any pesantren but acquired religious knowledge through reading books mostly written in Indonesian and foreign languages, for which he has been accused of being unorthodox by his orthodox counterparts. His popularity along with his wealth have increased since he began making public speeches before various urban organizations and i n t e l l e c t u a l groups, because his speeches tend be entertaining and he is fluent and humorous. Due to the nature of the profession, most rural ulama are r i g i d in their orientations. Their behavior patterns are somewhat predictable as they carefully manipulate their image, conduct, and speech patterns i n accordance with their status differences, and there is l i t t l e room for personal charm and individualism. But i f one looks in d e t a i l, examining what constitutes an ulama's power in specific contexts of local communities, every case seems to add something more to the fundamental t r u s t relationship of the ulama with members of the community and the ulamas' moral === [PDF page 312] === 300 credibility. I t is because, in essence, being an ulama i s an attained, not a prescribed status. Interactions between the Ulama and the Villagers Paternalism is a kind of superiority expressed in c u l t u r a l l y accepted forms of generosity and special kindness rendered by a superior patron to subordinate c l i e n t s, i n exchange f o r the l a t t e r ' s compliance with the patron's wishes. The v i l l a g e ulama are such patrons of Muslem communities, and their behavior patterns vis-a-vis their communities are characterized by paternalism. The villagers look up to the ulama for s p i r i t u a l, moral and religious guidance and protective leadership from disruptive threats from the outside world. The ulama i n turn use their influence to enforce Islamic doctrines and principles among the v i l l a g e r s, s e t t l e disputes as intermediaries, deal with outside agents and mobilize villagers to the causes of the family's religious and social projects necessary to perpetuate the i n s t i t u t i o n of the ulamate. The v i l l a g e r s, i n response, comply with the ulamas' desires not so much because they share the ulamas' goals as out of necessity; the more the c l i e n t community depends upon the good w i l l and favor of the patron, the more detrimental i t w i l l be not to comply with the superior patron's wishes, I w i l l examine in t h i s section how this mechanism works between patron ulama and the c l i e n t communities i n the rural context. By virtue of their t r a d i t i o n a l training the ulama are superior to the villagers in religious knowledge, moral and s p i r i t u a l strength, i n social capability and wisdom, i n their authority and influence, as well as their economic capability, and f i n a l l y i n their r i t u a l status i n relation to the Divine. The v i l l a g e r s, on the other hand, are at the receiving end of the continuum. The ulamas' enduring moral superiority, t r u s t relationships === [PDF page 313] === 301 with members of the community, and their paternalism is then backed by the ulamas' social position. 1. Indebtedness of the Community to the Ulama A village's patron ulama are fondly referred to as "pemurah" (the generous one) and "penyayang" (the one who cares), but ironically the practice of the ulamas' patronage of the community creates situations wherein the villagers are perpetually bound to the ulama out of sheer "indebtedness." The villagers ask the ulama for temporary personal loans before the next harvest or before their husbands send monthly living expenses, ask for advice regarding family problems, ask them to pray on behalf of their deceased parents, to resolve crises and to perform rituals. The ulama pay radio and other taxes imposed upon the villagers, receive guests and function as village representatives on behalf of the village. The ulama initiate economic and educational opportunities for them. As the ulama do not enforce collection of the principle owed to them or ask the villagers for labor services for the ulamas* family's personal economic operations, the indebted villagers maintain a continuous sense of "balance due" to the ulama. Whether it is economic or social favors, the consequent indebtedness serves a social function to preserve the ulamas' superiority and influence. On the one hand, the ulamas' careful avoidance of any abuse of their trust for their own personal gain serves as a reference point of the ulamas' expected high moral credibility and thereby a prestigious status. On the other hand it eliminates any opportunity for villagers to return their "balance due" to the ulama. The villagers' dependence and their perpetual "debt" to the ulama creates a condition most favorable to the ulama. When the time comes, the villagers are willing to === [PDF page 314] === 302 cooperate with the ulama and pay their "accumulated dues" in a form of labor services on the ulamas' village projects. Even on these occasions the ulama offer to pay for their services, but the villagers, of course, decline the offer. The villagers' continuous "debt" relationship with the ulama puts their status below that of their benevolent providers, and the ulama make the villagers feel shameful and belittled, though they never articulate it in such a fashion. The ulama believe that men are basically like animals and would take advantage of others, unless they were taught religious doctrines and unless the ulama themselves interfered with their affairs. The ulama also say that the villagers are lazy in religious activities, stupid in not using their akal (mind) to strengthen their faith and to improve their station in life, unfaithful not to fear eternal damnation and God's justice, and morally weak (kurang ahlak) to fend off the desires of the nafsu. The ulama refer to some villagers who lack faith and moral strength as "shrimp heads" or a "bunch of sheep", doomed to damnation. The pervasive belief that to be poor and less fortunate is partly caused by lack of faith and diligence in both religious and economic activities makes the continuously indebted villagers feel ashamed of themselves. The consequent attitude prevalent among the villagers toward the ulama is characterized by the often used expression segan (awesome respect). The segan relationship between the ulama and the villagers is manifested in their daily encounters. Whenever the ulama are out in the yard, every village woman will immediately cover her head with her shawl, and lower her posture to show respect and avoid provoking the ulamas' scorn. No villager walks ahead of them, and only the elderly and respected men of the village say that "unless you have something to feel ashamed of yourself, === [PDF page 315] === 303 there is no need to feel afraid of the ulama."although they themselves would dare not challenge the ulamas' authority. The rest of the community automatically engage in submissive behavior toward the ulama. Not many interactions with an ulama are expected to be pleasant, because the villagers meet with the ulama unwillingly when they are called in to be accused of wrongdoings. It does not make any difference whether it is a man or a woman, child or adult. When the villagers make a mistake or engage in wrongdoings, the ulama can call them names even in public. The villagers' basic attitude toward the ulama, then, is characterized by their intense desire to avoid direct face-to-face interactions. If there is any need for the villagers to relate to the ulama, they come to the ulamas' house from the backdoor to the kitchen. There if they find the elder sepuh, either the junior ulama or the two elder sisters of the head of the family, they will consult with them first. If none of these are there, when they talk to the ulama's daughters working in the kitchen. Most of the time the girls simply give them what they need without reporting to the ulama. Unusual emergency cases, however, are relayed to the ulama, who in turn gives orders to the girls or to other assistants. The ulamas' family's special position in the village is spacially visible as well as the village is divided between the western and the eastern halves. The villagers even show respect to the ulamas' children, who, then, avoid going into the eastern section of the village in fear of embarrassing the common villagers. The kijaji in Wanaraja who strongly condemns this practice as a form of arrogance makes a cynical remark that even the ulamas' chickens are alienated from the rest of the chickens. Though the ulama justify their assertion of superiority by virtue of their position and institutional roles in holding the village community === [PDF page 316] === 304 together and in enforcing the religious principles and practices among villagers, the ulama seem concerned about their "authority" more than necessary. This becomes apparent in the ulamas' response whenever they discover that their power has been abrogated. For example, when I helped one sick woman who had come to ask for vitamin pills, the ulama was upset and indignant about the fact that the woman bypassed her and directly contacted the stranger. The ulama justified her anger against the woman by claiming that unless she was informed, she could not be held responsible for any ill-effects the pills might cause the patient. Everyone knew that these vitamin pills did not come from the ulama originally, but the ulama preferred to give them personally, in which case the villagers would be indebted to the ulama and not to the researcher. The head of the family was also very upset when someone had parked a truck in her village without having informed her in advance. The ulama are not always sure of the loyalty of the villaqers and they take advantage of situations to test it. The ulama maintain generosity and give a share of their harvest to the poor to fulfill their role as patrons, and yet at other times they make difficulties for them just to remind the villagers of their formidable status and power. When peace and security has existed for a considerable period of time without any crisis situation the ulama sometimes create one, for example by unexpectedly waking everyone up in the middle of the night to go to the patrol station. Everytime rural migrant laborers return home, they are expected to drop in on the ulamas' house, bring a package of gifts (usually a can of milk or a bagful of granulated sugar) and bring some news from the city, though it is not likely they could get to see the ulama in person. Sometimes the ulama deliberately make themselves unavailable and inaccessible. When an === [PDF page 317] === 305 outsider comes and requests a pengajian lectureship in his village, he will first be told that the ulama is inaccessible because he is too busy, indicating that he is so popular that the demand for his services is too great, and that if he accepts the request, his service had better be deeply appreciated. Alternatively, if the messenger happens to be an insignificant figure, the ulama take it as an insult and it usually takes several trips, some gifts, and a guarantee of expenses and an overnight stay at the house of the most influential family before the ulama can be persuaded to give a pengajian lecture. With the ulamas' former santris and patron-friends, however, the request would be granted with much ease. The ulama clearly distinguish the individuals they encounter on the basis of the status and relationship of the individual, and govern their pattern of interaction accordingly. With government officials who drop by once in a while, for example, the head of the ulamas' family in Cipari acts aloof, but with apparent submission. The ulama make extra efforts to relate to their rich patron-friends by treating them cheerfully in a friendly tone, patting their shoulders, and making jokes and humorous comments to each other in an uninhibited fashion. The ulamas' effort to treat them as equals have some sound bases: they are benefactors of village projects and hopefully they will be prospective benefactors for the future as well. Their interaction with their patron-friends is well calculated to assure this promise. The more the villagers are economically and socially independent of the ulama, the less influence and authority the ulama can exert upon them. The ulama maintain friendly relationships with the betteroff families in the village for as with self-sufficient families, it is the ulama who need their cooperation rather than the reverse. === [PDF page 318] === 306 The group of people who are respected and trusted by the ulama in Cipari are the young intellectuals who teach at the school, and who are crucial to the success of the family's projects. The ulama treat them with respect, listen to them, offer them drinks and meals, and generally tolerate their conversation except on subjects that directly relate to the ulamas' religious authority. There are some young intellectual villagers, too, whom the ulama treat generally with respect but with more direct dominance than the young intellectual teachers from outside the village. They may teach at the school or they may be successful traders in Jakarta. All these categories of individuals are welcome to enter the house from the front door, whereas those indebted to the ulama must use the back door. It shows how the ulamas' dependence and benevolence relationships are clearly expressed in behavior patterns. D. Lebaran: The Symbolic Reintegration The ulama appear formidable before the villagers, but they are keenly aware of their dependence upon the villagers for the pursuit of the family's projects. This mutual reliance upon each other between the ulamas1 family and the villagers is normally expressed through exchange of gifts and services. The Lebaran day ritual (the end of the fasting month celebration) which takes place once a year, however, seems to be a formal occasion at which the villagers' loyalty to the ulama is symbolically expressed, the bond between the leaders and the followers is once again reassured, and the community is reintegrated into a comprehensive unit. The fasting month comes in the ninth month of the Islamic lunar calendar and it usually lasts almost a full month. Ramadan in 1972 took place during the month of October and the Lebaran celebration on November 7. In the village of Cipari it usually coincides with the off-agricultural === [PDF page 319] === 307 season in between the two agricultural rice cycles. During this month, Muslem villagers abstain from hard labor and from eating or drinking during the daytime between the day's first prayer hour and the early evening prayer around 6:00. Every other kind of pleasuresome activity such as smoking or sex is also abstained from in order to concentrate, instead, on the thoughts of faith and on the learning of agama. The month is marked by industrious religious activities, intended to purify oneself from sins, and bring one closer to Kesecian, the Sacred. Many pesantrens offer special sessions for santris and ustads on specific Islamic sciences the pesantren is known for. In Cipari, special pengajian nightly gatherings are held every night except on Fridays, and the number of attendants increases as many seasonal migrants return from cities during the month. Loudspeakers are set up for people who cannot attend the meetings and azdan (prayer calling) and kiroat (Quranic chanting) are broadcast from the Ipudspeakers before pengajian meetings start. A drum is beaten throughout the day and the night. During the month only, anyone (including children) is allowed to beat the drum, practice his favorite rhythm, and develop his skill. The villagers usually stay up late at night, engage in additional prayers, learning and reading the Quran, and memorizing and refreshing their memories of the ngaji. The santris congregate at the madrasah, and one can hear them memorizing Arabic grammar aloud. The adult males stay up all night for five nights (in 1972 from October 21 to 25) watching out into the sky for the descending angels which are believed to bring their luck and fortune for the coming year. For 15 days before the beginning of Lebaran, Muslem villagers recite surat Yasin (Yasin chapter from the Quran) three times daily, asking for a meaningful and blessed longevity, fortune, and security. It is believed that those who see the angels' descent in the sky will earn === [PDF page 320] === 308 merits equal to 23 years of five daily prayers, and even if they fail to see them, they will nevertheless acquire good luck for the following year. Ramadan is also the month for increasing the spirit of community life (kemasyarakatan), and it is marked by a sense of sharing among the members of the community. sharing. The ulama are credited with initiating this sense of Every evening around 6:00, shortly before the time of the evening prayer, all the adult male members of the village are invited by one of the three sepuh, the head of the ulamas' family and her two sisters, to share sweets. At the head of the family's house, about 10 to 15 men gather in the kitchen waiting for announcement of the end of the fasting hours, and have a bowl of sweet beans and some rice cakes. About the same time, the prominent members of the village gather in the guest room, including young ulama, school teachers, and respected traders. Those who gather in the kitchen are common villagers and they go to the mosque immediately after finishing the sweets. But those in the guest room continue to chat, and exchange news as they enjoy tea until the day's last prayer hour before the nightly pengajian begins. About a week before the end of the fasting month, people go shopping to get a new piece of kain, new pairs of shoes and clothes for the family, spending the previous year's savings. The ulama's kitchen becomes extremely busy and crowded, adding a special sense of festivity for the coming Lebaran celebration. All the family's young girls are mobilized day after day to prepare preserved sweet candies out of coconut and brown sugar, and to mold rice flour cakes. A few days before the Lebaran celebration day families who have a supply of more than a day's rice calculate the amount of zakat fitra (religious alms special for the Lebaran day celebration) due, so that it can be shared by the poor families on the day before the Lebaran === [PDF page 321] === 309 celebration. The zakat fitra is designed to enable the entire community to share the joy of the end of the fasting month. In 1972, a family with four members gave ten kilograms of rice and distributed it to the poor in and around the village. In that year, however, the government issued an ordinance that the zakat fitra must be collected by Ami!, a Desa official, and stored at the KUA ministry of religious affairs office, part of which was planned to be used for local development projects. The ulama in the village strongly objected to the policy because, according to the Islamic law, only the poor are entitled to receive fitra. By the night before Lebaran day, everybody tries to return home from faraway places. The fare of public transportation around this time almost triples, and more than a few thefts are reported in buses and other public transportation, because every returning person usually carries gifts and new clothes for his family at home. A festive mood prevails everywhere, and nobody seems to go to bed the night before Lebaran day. Nobody is sure until the Minister of Religious Affairs announces whether the Lebaran celebration falls on the next day or the day after next. That year, around 7:30 in the evening a short speech was broadcast by the Minister and the whole village cheered with joy; the santris started to beat the drum faster, and the girls started to spread straw mats in the mosque for people spending the evening praying. During this night, men sit up in the madrasah and mosque and recite "La ilaha ilia Allah, Muhammadun rasulu Allah" (the confession, "there is no God whatever but Allah, and Muhammad is the messenger of Allah"), while seamstresses work all night trying to finish every order before the next morning, and mothers and daughters cook for the next day's celebration and guests. A large lamp is set up at the top of the mosque tower to notify villagers in the mountains about the next day's celebration. === [PDF page 322] === 310 The Lebaran day celebration begins around 4 a.m. when it is still dark. As soon as the day's first prayer congregation is over, a big celebration starts at the ulamas' houses. In the village of Cipari, it has been a custom that on the morning right after the day's first prayer all of the members of the congregation, including santris aged between 10 and 15 years and adult males, are invited to one of the three sepuh's houses to share a big feast. The villagers, who seldom eat meat, will enjoy pieces of goat meat and vegetables on freshly cooked rice and an assortment of soy products. The scene of the feast was quite impressive. In the kitchen about 20 to 25 young santris sat in two rows and in between the kitchen and the guest room were adult male villagers. The head of the family stood with a haspan (rice basket) and quite symbolically she scooped rice from the basket and distributed rice in person to the guests. This was the only time when the usually aloof and distant head of the family engaged in such a chore by herself and interacted with the villagers and the santris faceto-face. Everyone ate quickly and nobody talked during the meal, and when they finished, they quietly left from the kitchen door. The whole event took place in less than 20 minutes. Then everyone went home to take a short nap until 7:00, time for the special Lebaran congregation, Aidul Fitra (return and reunite with the Sacred). In 1972, a small incident took place at the ulama's house. One of her nephews was an imam tentara (an ulama serving the military) and as an official he was to convey the government order that all the Aidul Fitra must be held in a public square. (I suspected that it was the government's attempt to decrease the chance for the Communists to take advantage of the opportunity to gather for an uprising, since at that time public gatherings, except religious ones, were not permitted.) In the Desa Citangtu, it was === [PDF page 323] === 311 supposed to be held at a public square right along the highway about a mile from Cipari. The two local ulama of the village of Cipari, who are brothers to the imam tentara, objected to the order insisting that the question was a matter of religious law and that the government had no right to interfere with the religious practices of the local people. While the two parties were arguing, the head of the family, their aunt, sat in the middle saying "I am kolot (the older generation), and so you people decide", and being more tolerant than usual. When the problem was finally settled and they agreed to hold the congregation at the mosque, both parties reconciled and asked each other's pardon. The reconciliatory mood was prevalent everywhere throughout the day. Shortly before the Aidul Fitra was over, all the village women visited and greeted the head of the ulamas' family. This time everyone, being dressed in their best clothes, came to the front door, rather than to the kitchen as they usually do. They took off their shoes at the door to respect the purity of the ulama's house, covered their heads, and quickly asked for a greeting with the head of the family. The style of the greeting differed from any normal style. The villagers and the ulama are normally distant from each other, and do not exchange greetings because the ulama usually ignores the villagers as they pass by, believing still, however, that the villagers would feel embarrassed if the ulama approached them. But on this day, not only do they come to greet her, but they also kiss her hand and each asks for her pardon. This is probably the only time throughout the year that they come so close and touch each other. The ritual is conducted in a formal manner and through this ritual the villagers symbolically express their loyalty to the ulama, who in turn patronage to the latter. assures their It also symbolizes reconciliation and reunion. === [PDF page 324] === 312 The practice of minta maaf (asking pardon) is religiously prescribed ritual, and it is designed to give a chance for disputing parties and enemies to ritually ask for forgiveness. They ask for pardon not for specific troubles they have caused, but rather request the acceptance of their total personality, and the ritual marks the beginning of a renewed relationship between members of a family, between friends, and between the ulama and the villagers. It is also a symbolic gesture of submission by the subordinates to the superior authority, as became quite clear when the two sisters of the head of the family arrived and greeted their younger sister, rather than vice versa since the latter held the authority over the entire family. When the men came out of the congregation, they too came to greet the head of the family first, though this time they did not kiss her hands, before going to the other ulama of the village. When this ritual was over and everyone went home, the community program for the day was over. What followed after this was a family affair. The first thing they did was to visit their deceased parents' graves. There is a hierarchy among the deceased according to the significant relationship of the deceased to the survivors. The ulamas' family's first loyalty lies with the father of the three sisters, Haji Harumaen, and his wife Mutia. The family visited Harumaen's grave first, then Mutia's,and then each subgroup of the family visited their own deceased husbands and parents. After every family visited their immediate deceased relatives, everyone got together again and visited their remote ancestors' graves and their descendants in Sukarasa. Lebaran is also the time when emotional indulgence is allowed to be expressed and tolerated as long as such emotion directly related to what the Lebaran is supposed to mean. The youngest daughter of the eldest of === [PDF page 325] === 313 the three sisters fainted and had a fit when she visited her father's grave. Everyone felt sorry for her because her father died when she was less than one year old. The incident brought the family together in memory of their deceased father and in concern over the girl's welfare. In her halfconscious state she kept calling for her father and smiling as she repeated a story of her father bringing a lamp to the madrasah. Another woman in Sukarasa, who is remotely related to the ulamas' family in Cipari, cried over the head of the family's shoulders over her mother's death during the past year. Her tears expressed her love for her mother, an emotion not permitted to have been expressed publicly under the normally highly structured context of social interaction. Visits to the immediately superior members of the family were completed with that day. The families in Cipari then visited the kijaji in Wanaraja, the elder brother of the three sisters. For the following week after the Lebaran day the ulama in Cipari received several hundred guests from the nearby villages and even from faraway cities. With many of them the ulama in Cipari did not maintain the same patron-client relationship, and in consequence, these encounters and visits had different meanings to the ulama from those ritualized and highly formalized greetings with the villagers. For example, her niece who was visiting from Jakarta, with whom the ulama supposedly held a superior position and status by virtue of genealogical superiority, did not show the kind of submissiveness and respect as her siblings who had remained in the village under the authority of the ulama. Probably the ulama had some other interest in her which required that she behave toward her in a less authoritarian manner. In the process of the Lebaran celebration rituals, the power relationship between the patron-superior and the client subordinates emerged clearly, === [PDF page 326] === 314 along with the basic bondage between the two. On this day, the structured dominance of normal daily life collapsed temporarily as the role v/as reversed between the superior and the subordinates. With the ritualized greetings, the superior authority takes off the aloof mask, while the subordinate villagers are treated like guests. The social distance between the two is restored, at which point the ulama assures patronage while the subordinate villagers pledge loyalty to the ulama. As the ritual reunifies and reaffirms the community of believers under the leadership of the ulama, the spirit of community life is reestablished, and the ulama once again solidifies her position and that of the total institution. Summary In this chapter I have shown that the ulamas' enduring power has traditionally derived from the unique function of the ulamate as the mediator between the faith and the ummat, the Divine and the believers, and the believers'goal of eternal salvation and their endeavor to achieve that goal. I have also stressed the fact that the ulamas' patron-client relationship with the community is not based on the economic dependence of the villagers but the dependence is inclusive of all fields of the peasants' lives. The moral credibility of the ulama and the villagers' sense of indebtedness to their patron-ulama, however, have supported the ulamas' enduring superiority, and the ulama as an institution could no more survive without the ummat than the villagers without the ulamate. This subtle relationship, and the villagers' loyalty to the ulama was reflected in the Lebaran day rituals. By eliminating competition and governing their behavior patterns to suit their purposes, the ulama seem to continue to maintain their unique positions in Islamic communities. As parts of a complex society, however, === [PDF page 327] === 315 Islamic villages cannot remain autonomous as much as their leaders wish them to be. Change outside the villages can easily affect the structure of the community along with the position of the traditional leaders. The ulama. however, have access to a network of outside authorities. Just as carefully as they deal with the local constituents, the ulama,occupying intermediary positions between the community and the complex society, endeavor to maintain a state of equilibrium through which they hope to pursue their original goals of Islamization. In the next chapter we will examine the ulamas' relationships with various groups outside the community. === [PDF page 328] === Chapter VII THE ULAMA AND THE SUPRA-VILLACE SYSTEMS In the previous chapter I examined the relationship of the ulama with client communities. In this chapter I will discuss how the ulama view the government and relate to the agents of national systems. Then toward the end of the chapter I will show the ulamas' network and their participation in Islamic organizations for the pursuit of their interests in contrast to those of the dominant system. A. The Ulama and the Agents of National Systems One of the most significant secular roles of the ulama as patrons of Islamic communities has been to assume leadership as wakil masyarakat (community representatives) and to deal with outside agencies in order to protect the interests of the community and their own institutions. The ulamas' role as mediators between the community and the dominant outside systems, however, has traditionally posed a predicament similar to that of Fallers' modern African chief: On the one hand, as servants of the faith and the ummat, their loyalty has always remained with Islamic communities. To submit to the conflicting wishes of the outside at the expense of the interests of the community and the faith, therefore, would result in an erosion of their authority within the community. On the other hand, to challenge the dominant authority would place them in a vulnerable position and jeopardize their status quo and the community. Consequently, the role of the ulama as wakil masyarakat has traditionally required skill in maneuvering between conflicting demands. 316 === [PDF page 329] === 317 Regardless of how they view the outside systems, the ulamas' interactions with the agents of national systems show their keen perception of power relationships, a skill which a traditional ulama has had to learn in the process of becoming an ulama. The traditional ulamas' political activism during the colonial period was still within the realm of legitimate activities allowed by the colonial regime. It was often the regime which had to employ "illegal" tactics to discourage the ulamas' political activism. The ulama in Cipari dismiss historical incidents of the ulamaled peasants' uprising during the colonial period as boduh tampa perhitungan (a stupid act without calculating timing). The ulamas' family's participation in the Darul Islam rebellion and revolution, on the other hand, took place only during the period when the power structure of the nation was undergoing revolutionary change. The "predicament" of contemporary ulama is found in their relationship with the present military regime. The ambiguous relationship with the regime basically derives from two factors: First, the Islamic group allied themselves with the army during the revolutionary war. The Siliwangi Division of the national army was regarded as the hero of the Indonesian victory in the revolutionary war. The ulama's family in Cipari, for example, sent most young adult males of the village to the Japanese training camp during the occupation and they later joined the Siliwangi and fought in the revolution. These days, however, the ABRI (Angkatan Bersenjata Republik Indonesia, the armed forces) appears to have become arrogant and selfish ever since it came to power. Secondly, the ambivalence toward the regime has been exasperated by an added factor that, on the one hand, the military regime relies on the ulamas' cooperation against the threats of the Communists, while on the other the Islamic group views the strong military === [PDF page 330] === 318 government as a necessary evil against the Communists. The memory of the Communist strength which threatened their status-quo before the Communists' abortive coup in 1965 still remains fresh among the Islamic leaders. Ulama have traditionally viewed the established government as "something necessary but too often evil" (Binder 1960:252). The government has been viewed as exploiters of the peasant masses. The ulamas' family in Cipari, for example, has forbidden their offspring to obtain jobs in the government except in the Ministry of Religious Affairs or Education, referring to themselves as bersih, clean. But the demand of the present regime for the ulamas' endorsement of their policies and participation in their programs has posed a serious predicament. The only solution for them has been to maintain an attitude of non-commitment by not articulating their endorsement while avoiding antagonizing the regime. This, however, requires both careful strategic planning and manipulative skill. During the 1971 election, the ulama underwent a critical test of this ability in dealing with the regime attempting to secure the u1amas' endorsement of Golkar (Golongan Karya, the Functional Group, the governmentsupported political party). First, a group of youth calling themselves Angkatan Siliwangi Muda, the young Siliwangi generation, went around Islamic villages threatening the villagers to vote for Golkar. The group did not interfere with Cipari, for the strength of the Islamic youth organization, HMI (Himpuana Mahasiswa Islam), in Cipari was well known in the region. The campaigning organization then applied a remunerative strategy by sending prominent government figures to the kijaji in Wanaraja, and the wife of the District head to Cipari. The kijaji evaded the situation by letting another ulama from Tasik take his place. He praised the governor's integrity and treated him as a === [PDF page 331] === 319 friend, rather than endorsing the party. The head of the family in Cipari exercised similar caution and strategy when the wife of the Bupati arrived with a truckload of gifts for the family. The head of the family sent for a personal friend and an ulama from Sukawening. The Bupati's wife stated that she would like to see all the villagers. When the santris and villagers all gathered at madrasah, the ulama from Sukawening gave a speech rather than the head of the family. When the Bupati's wife began shaking hands with the villagers, the leading members of the family quietly slipped out of the building in order to avoid being seen by the villagers and having their pictures taken by the photographer who accompanied the party. Such a strategy was necessary, they said, because ulama are vulnerable to the power holders attempting to recruit rural voters for their own party. One of the ki.ia.i1 's old pictures, taken when he was a regional representative of the Golkar in the National Assembly in 1964, for example, was used by the Golkar campaigning group and appeared in local newspapers with the headline reading "Kijaji Yusuf endorses Golkar". A similar attempt to acquire the ulamas' cooperation with the regime was also made at the time when the family in Cipari had planned to build a school in the village. A man calling himself an ulama visited the family, representing a government-supported ulamas' organization called Gupi. He promised two million rupiah for the project. Despite the financial difficulty the ulamas' family was having at the time, they declined the offer saying that it would cost just about a quarter of the offered fund. The ulama also feel that the government has interfered with the kepribadian, individualism, of the ulamas' roles and activities. As a way of preventing the Communists from regaining their influence, the government has mandated religious courses in all educational institutions, and the === [PDF page 332] === 320 students who f a i l in the course are not allowed to advance classes. The government has also prohibited public gatherings in regions except for pengajian gatherings, but pengajian lecture gatherings are also required to obtain permission from Majlis Ulama, the local semi-official ulamas' organization. The government has also interfered with such purely r e l i - gious practices as the collection of zakat f i t r a, or the Aidul Fitra Lebaran day congregation, that was mentioned in the previous chapter. The ulama, however, have enjoyed governmental support for the general expansion of Islamic institutions in recent years. In return, the ulama propagate, on behalf of the regime, the new five-year-plan, and particularly t h e i r part in the "mental-spiritual development". But the problem has been that the ulama do not endorse a l l the programs that the government has i n i t i a t e d, particularly the b i r t h control program. They oppose the idea, but they cannot articulate their opposition i n public for fear of possible government accusations of being "subversive" and anti-government. Sometimes the ulama are asked i f they endorse the program by pengajian attendants, and a l l they can say is something as vague as possible, l i k e "God has guaranteed for our l i v e s, so l e t i t be", or "one way or other, i t is God's w i l l ". The ulama describe their relationship with the regime as sedang, moderate neutrality. They prefer not to commit themselves to the pursuit of an Islamic State, nor do they endorse the government. Every ulama I interviewed avoided discussing either his p o l i t i c a l party a c t i v i t i e s or the subject of Negara Islam, the Islamic State, since these subjects are now considered as taboo. For many ulama, i t is the time to build Islamic foundations by way of teaching and non-political preaching: "Insya Allah"— " i n God's w i l l " — t h e time w i l l take care of i t s e l f. " === [PDF page 333] === 321 The ulamas' interactions with various agents of the national system vividly reflect the ulamas' perception of their power relationships and their concerns. They distinguish the civil administration officials over whom the ulama can exercise their power from the agents of the powerful military regime who pose potential threats to the ulamas' status-quo and with whom the ulama assume a submissive role. The ulama have traditionally maintained antagonistic relationships with local administrators. They say, for example, that anybody who wants to become a village head is greedy, because he runs for the office for his selfish economic interests in upah, payment in kind. But the fundamental antagonism of the ulama toward civil administrators has been deeply imbedded in their historical competition for power and status, and has been even accelerated by the administrators' failure to bring about quick social change and development. The ulama boast of their de-facto power over the rural population in comparison with the lurah (village head). They say that the ulama are better trusted by the masyarakat, communities, than the lurah: "If there were a fire or a family in crisis, would the lurah help them? Would they be capable of mobilizing the villagers? No, the villagers would first notify their ulama, who would in turn tell other villagers to help the family in crisis. The lurah could mobilize the villagers only after the ulama endorsed whatever the lurah had been told to do by his bosses at the higher echelons, but if the ulama disagreed, then the lurah would be just out of luck." The ulama in Cipari gave several instances in which they had shown their power over the lurah. The former lurah of Desa Citangtu was arrested for embezzlement after the ulama had investigated the records. The reason why they did the investigation had nothing to do with the lurah's === [PDF page 334] === 322 administrative skill, but because the lurah had rejected the ulamas' family's request to allocate Desa funds to repair the road to Cipari. Even the present lurah seems afriad of the family in Cipari. Every time he meets the head of the family he smiles nervously and greets her graciously. She speaks first to the lurah. The ulamas' family swears that if the next request is rejected by the present lurah, they will start a movement to expel him from the office. Indeed two nephews of the family have been elected to the Desa village council, BMD (Badan Musyawara Desa.Desa Consultative body) and one of them has assumed the chairmanship. The ulamas' de-facto superiority over the civil administration extends as far as the subdistrict level. The local extension of the Ministry of Public Health does not propagate family planning in the village as it does in other villages. The head of the sub-district extension of KUA, the Ministry of Religious Affairs, also recognizes the family's authority. When the local Ministry of Education and Culture issued an order to remove one of the teachers from the school in Cipari, the head of the family sent a threatening letter to the head of the office, telling him that the family would discontinue any support of the public primary school held at the school building in Cipari. The frightened head of the office visited the family in Cipari, and though well treated by the ulama, finally gave in to remove the order. In the case of the local camat, sub-district head of the Ministry of Domestic Affairs, the ulamas' aggression is more direct than to other branches of government administrative organs. Aside from the ulamas' traditional antagonism against the civil administrators, it partly derives from the ulamas' frustration about the government's slow move toward modernization. === [PDF page 335] === 323 The ulama feel that all the sacrifices they have made in the past for the attainment of Independence have never been paid for by the government. The government was much more efficient, they say, during the colonial period than presently. Inflation has always been high, and public services have never been satisfactory. The ulama and the rural population are doubly exploited; they have to pay taxes to the government, but they must also support the Desa autonomous administration and build their own public schools, bridges and roads. If they need papers from the government, they must pay for the services or even give bribes for them. Rural development has been neglected by the government, in the name of the regime's priority in "restoring peace and security" against the Communists. The only way the rural population can get government aid is through an influential ulama who has direct connections with prominent government figures. For example, the repair of the road from Garut to Wanaraja began only after the kijaji in Wanaraja accused the Bupati of having ineffective leadership in rural development. The remaining road from Wanaraja to Cihuni, however, was left unrepaired (see Figure 2, p.22). Prior to its repair, the roads from Cihuni to Sukawening and from Cimaragas to Cibatu had been paved by Kewedanan Cibatu (consolidation of Kecamatan subdistricts), but the remaining road from Cimaragas to Cihuni, which did not belong to the Kewedanan, had been left unpaved. Consequently, due to the lack of initiative by the higher administrative authorities, the paved road map of the region looked like a patchwork. Finally the ulama in Cipari requested the paving of the road in person from the Regent of Priangan when he visited the family. The young camat of the subdistrict office of Wanaraja was not experienced enough to deal with the ulamas' influence and he apparently failed in administering the 1971 election in the village of Cipari. In a traditional === [PDF page 336] === 324 manner, the ulamas' family resisted cooperation with the office by not spontaneously setting up a local election committee in the village. The camat finally visited the village on the election morning but he could not control the mob of voters who rushed to the polls. Finally the head of the family stood up and gave her orders. Ever since then the camat has been dominated by the ulama. During the year I met him four times on different occasions and at different places, and each time he behaved differently. For example, I met him for the first time at the celebration of a newly built mosque near Wanaraja. Among all the prominent ulama, the kijaji and their n c h patronfriends, the camat was unnoticed by everyone. He sat by himself in a corner and when I went to talk to him, he appeared very pleased. The next time when I visited him in his office, he maintained an air of authority so as to protect his office vis-a-vis his subordinates. Another time he came to visit the village to bring me special-delivery mail. Because the head of the family happened to be absent from the village that morning, he looked relaxed and chatted with the young teachers. But he left before long. When the ulama returned, a comment was made to me that the camat specifically chose that particular morning in order to avoid seeing the ulama. When finally both the ulama and I visited his office for a formal interview, the camat appeared most uncomfortable about the ulama's presence. constantly asked for approval and agreement from the ulama, kept looking at her reactions to what he said, anJ nervously searched for documents which I requested. The ulama spoke only a few words back to the camat, but in a decisive tone. Contrary to her contemptuous attitude toward the camat, lurah and local ministerial officials, the ulama's behavior toward the local military === [PDF page 337] === 325 and police officers was marked by her deliberate and careful avoidance of conflict. The ulama is aware that these officers could cause her trouble if they wanted to, and threaten the security and the status-quo of the ulama and the village altogether. After all, their power is backed by armed force, and they use the power of the office indiscriminately. For example, on the same occasion I met the camat for the first time, I took a picture of the general audience among which was a local police officer. He then made repeated visits to the village demanding information about my research. He confiscated all the pictures I took and gave to the family, asked the ulama how much money I had, and told her to keep an eye on my photo equipment and tape recorder. Before long, my patience with the officer was running low and my indignation began to show. Then the ulama took me into the kitchen and asked me to leave everything to her. The ulama's patience with this policeman was most unusual for a person who tolerated very little arrogance. When the policeman arrived at the house, she always greeted him with a tense but friendly smile, addressing him with pak (respect forms for superior figures). Then she offered him a glass of milk, another sign of respect, and a full course lunch. While the man and his assistant sat in the guest room, the head of the family spoke only a few words and listened to the man's self-engrandizing stories. When I asked the family if I should give him money to save time and prevent further unpleasant encounters, the head of the family assured me that she had lived there long enough and knew how to handle the authorities. The best attitude the ulama can take, she said, is to remain at arm's length from the armed forces, and not to offend them. She said at the end, "pokoknya aman", the point is to be safe, and "if that can be attained by wasting several hours and patience, it is a very cheap price." She also === [PDF page 338] === 326 mentioned that a lot of times these lower echelon officers needed to fill their empty stomachs but were embarrassed to ask for food, and that was why they pretended to make trouble for them: "Let them feel 'enak', good about themselves, and they will make no trouble." With the higher police authorities, however, the situation was more serious than the ulama's encounters with the local police, who could be easily maneuvered by the ulama. Shortly before my departure, we went to report the end of my research to the head of the police station in Garut, and the head of the family showed her acknowledgement of the authority of the head of the police station through the use of respectful language, tone of voice, body posture and hand gestures. The police head asked me to take his picture with his secretary, so I did. Later on the ulama said in a self-assuring tone that it was good that I took pictures because they could be used as proof by the ulama in case the police accused her of not complying with regulations. The ulama's relationship with the local military appears less intimidating than that with the local police, largely because military officers are better educated, are recruited nationwide, and are generally more respectful of the ulama than their police counterparts. The military headquarters look formidable but they have little to do with the local communities, unlike the police officers who make their daily rounds into the local villages and interact with villagers more frequently. Nevertheless the ulama are careful and interact with military personnel with caution. It 1s not clear who is maneuvering whom, for the officers' tactics, skills, and performance are equally refined, and both are professionals in their respective fields. === [PDF page 339] === 327 The head of the Garut district military headquarters was a Javanese man, fluent in Sundanese and respectful of the local ulama he was visiting. He addressed the head of the family with 'Bu(highest form to a woman), paid a compliment to the village projects and talked of his experiences in an entertaining manner. The local ulama appeared perplexed and seemed to find it difficult to deal with him except by responding with the equally high form of respect and congeniality. It is usually the case that the officers of higher echelons relate better with the local ulama,because of their skillful maneuvering of local leaders' pride,than the unsophisticated lower echelon officers, but to the ulama it is easier to handle the latter than the former for the same reason. The ulama receive a constant flow of guests from outside the village, each guest representing different interests and maintaining a different relationship with the ulama. A capable ulama must thus switch from one pattern of behavior to another and apply a different set of strategies to each case. What concerns the family is the security of the village and living up to the villagers' expectations. In many cases the ulama consults with her sisters, and gives instructions to every member of the family to execute their plans and strategies. If necessary, they even mobilize the villagers. The leadership of the uld'na as wakil masyarakat is so crucial to the village integration and security that the local ulama would not stay away from the village any more than a few days. She has not yet herself made hajj_ basically because she fears that if she leaves the family and the village they will not be able to handle pressures from the outside. To remain non-commital and sedang (neutral) may sound easy, but it requires a great deal of manipulative and strategic skill to put it into practice, as the above examples have illustrated. === [PDF page 340] === 328 B. The Ulamas' Network and Access to Islamic Organizations Unlike the Shi'ite Muslem ulama (Alger 1969, Binder 1965), the Sunnite Indonesian ulama conspicuously lack any form of unified ulamas' organization. The Indonesian ulama are private people, each practicing their profession in their own parochial locality. Each ulama highly respects the kepribadian (individual autonomy)of other ulama as long as they are orthodox. All the ulama, however, share the fundamental goal of Da'wa Islamiyah (Islamic causes). In order to combat against the disintegrating tendency stemming from theological and political schism and competition for prestige and influence, the ulama maintain an extensive network among themselves. Such a network functions to exchange santri students, religious services, and information about social trends and the government, and to protect Islamic orthodoxy. Traditionally all the ulamas' connections with the Islamic world outside and other Islamic leaders have been through a personal network of closely knit and hierarchically ordered diadic relationships with their former santris. The goal-oriented interest groups represented by Islamic associations have been somewhat alien to the traditional ulama. The seed of the ulamas' traditional network formation is found in the Islamic educational Institution of the pesantren. The sons of an ulama, expected to assume their fathers' institutions, are sent to the pesantrens run by their fathers' close associates, friends, or spiritual mentors and their offspring. It Is not uncommon, particularly when the pesantren is well known for a special £ak_ (Islamic sciences, e.g., grammar, kiroat or law), that the sons study at the same pesantren where their fathers once studied. There in the pesantren the relationship between the ulama and the santri is far from intimate, but is aloof. The ulama engage in highly === [PDF page 341] === 329 formalized religious teachings, whereas the santris receive commentaries 1n a traditional taglid (imitation) fashion. The ulamas' authority is absolute, though they seldom practice i t d i r e c t l y. By remaining as the focal point of the santris' admiration or t h e i r religious scholarship, piety and d i s c i p l i n e, however, the guru-ulamas' relationship with their santris usually lasts l i f e - l o n g, the relationship characterized by the santris' loyalty to the guru-ulama. A santri aspiring to become a prospective ulama moves from one pesantren to another in the process of acquiring both religious knowledge and merantau experience, and consequently acquires more than one s p i r i t u a l mentor. Despite this f a c t, the teacher-pupil relationship usually remains long a f t e r the santri graduates from one pesantren. Former s a n t r i s, now assuming the role of village religious teachers, ulama, or ordinary peasants, v i s i t t h e i r guru-ulama f o r s p i r i t u a l and religious assistance at least once a year during the Lebaran celebration, i f not regularly and more frequently. Santris of a well-known ulama may form a cult around their s p i r i t u a l leader. Such a group holds regular pengajian meetings to hear their guru-ulama, or organizes musyawarah discussions to reach a concensus with regard to the law. A guru-ulama is often asked by his former santri students to give pengajian lectures in the l a t t e r s ' l o c a l i t y. Pesantrens have also been instrumental in the development of f r a t e r n i t i e s among the santri students, which could become the basis of an ulamas' valuable alliance and exchange network. In the old days, sons of an ulama merantaued beyond ethnic boundaries to study under the most prestigious and well-known scholars outside their Province. Those who traveled with and studied at the same pesantren maintained a l i f e - l o n g friendship which could be strengthened by marriage unions between their offspring. === [PDF page 342] === 330 The development of fraternities among santri students is fostered by the liminal state (Turner 1969) of their lives at the pesantren as the institution places high emphasis upon status differentiation between advanced santris and neophytes as well as upon santris' self-sufficiency 1n leading their own daily lives. They prepare meals, wash clothes and clean their own rooms, but such chores are managed through cooperation among the santri themselves. The santris of the same age group grow up, study, and share rooms, chores and expenses until they graduate and move to another pesantren. The aloof ulama seldom interfere with what goes on among the santris as long as the latter remain studious. The older age group may initially take care of the younger group, but before long the role will be reversed as the senior santris begin to assume the role of tutor to the younger santris. The third principles which also function as the basis of an ulama's network are kinship and affinal ties between ulamas' families. These ties could be traditionally institutionalized between already related families or could be newly established, but in contrast to the first two principles they are marked by strong bonds lasting over generations. For example, the loyalty based ulama-santri relationships may function as the basis upon which cult-like groups are formed around a single ulama. These and santrisantri fraternity relationships serve to channel funds, information, santris and religious services, but the ties last only so long as the individuals involved are actively engaged in teaching. Usually such ties end with the death of the guru-ulama or santri-friend. The kinship and affinal ties, on the other hand, last over generations, and the extent of mutual assistance in matters of mobilizing funds and offspring for their respective institutions is greater than the other two highly formalized counterparts. === [PDF page 343] === 331 The cooporation is not voluntary but institutionalized and often compulsory out of necessity. For example, the ulamas' family in Cipari maintains extensive pengajian networks through their family ties. An ulama in Balakasap comes to Cipari to deliver lectures, and vice versa, and one of the sons of the family in Balakasap was raised by the head of the family in Cipari from the time he was a small boy. Every time the family v i s i t their relatives in Balakasap, they assure each other's mutual cooperation for the expansion of the institution. For example, when the young son of the family in Cipari was about to leave for Al-Azhar i n Cairo, the other family asked for a promise that when he returns, he might teach santris i n their pesantren i n s t i t u t i o n. When the son of the family in Balakasap was about to f i n i s h his schooling at Bandung and ready to leave for his study in Mecca, the family in Cipari visited Balakasap and confirmed their mutual assistance i n the future. one side of the family has retained wealth but lack competent offspring to take over the family's i n s t i t u t i o n s, then marriages are arranged between their offspring to compensate each other's shortcomings. Family ties are stronger and longer lasting than the individual-oriented diadic relationships, but more often than not teacher-pupil and santri-santri relationships resolve into affinal ties as the result of unions between their offspring. Since the beginning of this century, Islamic p o l i t i c a l parties and associations have played a significant part in bringing together otherwise isolated and privately-oriented ulama in the regions. From such organizations oriented toward social welfare and education ( e. g., Muhammadiyah, or subsidiary Ormas, mass organization, of Islamic parties) to Islamic parties, however, the Islamic associations have reflected the same fragmenting tendencies as aliran schisms among the ulama of different schools of === [PDF page 344] === 332 orientation. In recent years, the decline of Islamic organizations is also attributed to the pressures from the dominant central regime. I will describe characteristics of organizations and the ways the local ulama relate to such organizations. 1. Political Parties During the first two or three decades of this century, Islamic political parties emerged as the major forces of Islamic social conscience, by mobilizing ulama for Islamic causes and creating social, economic, and educational opportunities for the Muslem peasant masses. Since the first Indonesian national election in 1955, the Islamic political parties have continued to decline, largely because of internal disputes on the one hand and the pressures of the central government on the other. Between 1955 and 1965 the Islamic parties were hit hardest by the outcome of the ulama-led Outer Island rebellion as well as the threats of the Communists. Ever since the present regime came to power in 1965, their political effects have been constrained to nominal importance. During the year of my stay in Indonesia, political party activities at regional levels virtually stopped as the government informally prohibited any form of political gathering in the districts, and all the Islamic parties were more or less forced into merging into a unified but powerless Islamic party organization. The reaction to the new trend among the ulama is ambiguous to say the least. The ulama in the Priangan Regency of West Java are hesitant to announce their party affiliations, and whenever I asked about their party activities, they attempted to underplay its significance by saying "political parties are meaningless except during election times." Some ulama, who held bureaucratic positions in the Ministry of Religious Affairs and had automatically joined Golkar, government supported party, felt guilty about === [PDF page 345] === 333 forfeiting their Islamic political aspirations. In general they all refrained from talking about personal commitment to any party so as to avoid embarrassment. During the last election, the family in Cipari remained sedang, neutral, and welcomed all the campaigning Islamic political parties. Only through private channels did they propagate their preference of PSII (Partai Syarekat Islam Indonesia) which the family has supported since the time of the party's initial establishment as Syarekat Islam in 1909, but their influence was only marginal and limited to Desa Citangtu. Some young and prominent ulama have become members of regional councils, but since most regional councils are dominated by the armed forces, their overall power in the decision-making processes is ineffective. On the level of national politics, the Islamic group has won in such issues as prohibition of gambling and prostitution, but their victory is no more than the government's concession in need of the ulamas' support. There has been, however, a general trend to reduce the influence of the orthodox ulama in the government and neutralize their position vis-a-vis leaders of other religious groups. To start with, the tradition of the Nahadatul Ulamas' party's privilege to fill the position of the Minister of Religious affairs has been terminated. Instead the position has been filled by a modernist, Professor Mukti Ali, and his well-trained officials. 2. Majlis Ulama and PPA Both Majlis Ulama (Council of Ulama) and PPA (Projek Pendidikan Aqama, religious educational project) serve similar purposes but their status is somewhat different. PPA is a government sponsored organization with a status of Lembaga (institution) under the Ministry of Religious Affairs. It is located in every Province throughout Indonesia, its services extending === [PDF page 346] === 334 all the way down to the lowest level of administration, the desa village level. In Java except for West Java, the local PPA issues pengajian permits and is responsible for reporting the meetings to higher authorities. On the sub-district level the PPA branch is located at KUA, the local extension of the ministry, and on the district level it is under the IUA (Inspeksi Urusan Agama) of the same ministry. The heads of the KUA and IUA automatically assume chairmanship of the PPA. In West Java, however, the military supported Majlis Ulama (abbreviated as MU) is more powerful than the PPA, though this distinction is empirically meaningless as revealed in the case of Wanaraja where four out of seven PPA officials are simultaneously leaders of the MU. By nature, and status, however, the MU differs from the PPA. Majlis Ulama in West Java was created on June 12, 1958, at Bandung as a coordinating ulamas' organization responsible for the religious activities of the ummat and for representing Islamic civilian groups to the umaro (the government), but it never assumed the present power and status until after the Communist coup in 1965. The reorganization was initiated by Pang Dam VI/ Siliwangi, the head of the West Java Provincial army, in an attempt to fight against the Communists in the region. In the MU constitution it is stated that its functions are "to relate between the ummat Islam and the government to solve all the problems of the ummat Islam in order to reach beneficiary solutions, and to coordinate all the energies with the ummat to create justice and prosperity approved by Allah (Article 3)" in order to reach "realization of Islamic Canon Law within Indonesian Republic, founded on Pancasila (the five principles laid down by the late Sukarno at the time of Independence) and the 1945 Constitution (which grants the supreme power and authority to the President) with the approval of God." === [PDF page 347] === 335 Fundamentally, MU is the creation of the armed forces to mobilize Islamic leaders to prevent a recurrence of the Communist uprisings, a goal both the ABRI (the armed forces) and the Islamic group shared. By retaining the sole authority to issue pengajian permits and to manage the DKN (Dewan Keluarga Masjid, Council of Mosque families, created on September 16, 1968, at Bandung), the MU has effectively controlled the activities of Islamic institutions including the collection and distribution of zakat. In Wanaraja, the MU office is located in a large wooden barracks donated by the Siliwangi. The organization has 2500 registered members but not every one is an ulama. Except for the election of its local leaders, no regular meeting is held at the sub-district level. The MU headquarters at the district level is located in the district military headquarters at Garut, and the head of the district MU is a military official, called Dandem. The MU's district meetings are held regularly with several generals and lieutenants present. The military officials pass to the ulama the government's new regulations and policies concerning religious activities and projects. At other times, the MU may organize a large scale "oporasi" missioning tour throughout West Java, in which case the army takes care of the expenses, transportation and protection. In short MU serves as a channel of communication and mediating organ.jftlwr-^n the local Islamic leaders and the armed forces. On the night of thrs coup in Jakarta, for example, all the members of the MU in the district were called in by the head of the military headquarters at Garut at about 9:00 in the evening to coordinate their effort to crush the local Communists and round them up. On their return home, the ulama organized a civilian army and arrested suspected and alleged Communist members and handed them over to the military posts by the following night. === [PDF page 348] === 336 The MU is an interesting organization, its counterpart being the Acheh of North Sumatra. As far as the MU is concerned, its affiliation and cooperation with the military regime is a necessary evil. Now that the government has moved toward the depoliticization of Islamic groups, and decreasing the Islamic influence in national politics, and now that the Islamic groups have lost their power base, the MU organization is regarded by the local ulama as an alternative base to expand their influence in competition with the secular regime. For example, in Wanaraja all the members of the previous Islamic political parties automatically registered 1n the local MU. The present head of the MU at Wanaraja is head of the Nahadatul Ulama party and by coincidence he is the young ulama in Cipari. Some of the best known ulama and kijaji of the region, however, have neither taken part in the Islamic political party nor in the MU, and have refrained from supporting one Islamic party against another. 3. Youth Organizations Along with Islamic political parties and the ulamas' organizations, many of the previously active Islamic youth organizations have come to be controlled by the government to serve its purposes. Most subsidiary youth organizations of the Islamic political parties have since liquidated themselves or become independent of their parent parties after the merger of Islamic parties in 1973, and many have declined despite the active part they played in overthrowing the SuKarno regime after the 1965 coup. The only organization which has officially remained autonomous has been HMI (Hlmpunan Mahasiswa Islam, Islamic university students' association). The HMI is non-political, and the best organized Islamic youth organization and the largest university students' association in Indonesia. At the time of the 1971 congress at Palembang, it claimed a total of 1020 === [PDF page 349] === 337 branches throughout Indonesia. I t was established in 1947 shortly after the establishment of the f i r s t Islamic university, IAIN, at Jogjakarta, to provide Islamic youth with training necessary for the prospective leadership of Islamic p o l i t i c a l or non-political organizations. Many contemporary leaders of Islamic parties and organizations are graduates of the HMI training centers. I t thus emphasizes religious education and d i s c i p l i n e, s k i l l in organization and management, and the methods of leading discussions (musyawarah) among members. Members of Islamic subsidiary youth groups of p o l i t i c a l parties may j o i n the HMI but may not take leadership roles so as to avoid p o l i t i c a l influence on the organization's autonomous programs. The training centers are located at d i s t r i c t branches and i t s members are classified according to their years of participation. The local branch i n Garut was established only in 1961, and in 1973 i t claimed 647 members, half of which were students at IAIN in Garut. Local branches have various programs other than the semi-annual training courses, including taking part in public works such as road construction, the collection of zakat or participation i n national and Islamic holiday celebrations organized by local administrations. Regular meetings for religious training are held by study clubs at each university, but regular pengajian lectures are given once a month, which a l l the members attend. The HMI is known for i t s close ties with senior Islamic leaders of the region. The instructors of local branches or national congresses are made up of adult, non-political former members of the HMI, who are often government o f f i c i a l s or university professors. Whenever a nation-wide conference is held, local ulama and Islamic organizations contribute funds to send local delegates to the conference. Well-known local ulama and leaders of p o l i t i c a l parties are often invited to deliver pengajian lectures at the HMI study clubs on such subjects as Islamic leadership and future === [PDF page 350] === 338 aspirations. The established Islamic leaders, the ulama and party leaders, view the organization as a nursing bed for the prospective Islamic leaders. Such meetings, however, are sometimes used by the ulama and parties to expand their influence. In recent years the HMI has also declined as the result of the government's attempt to decrease the students' influence in national policies. In the period following the coup, HMI was instrumental in expelling all the Communist influence in universities. The HMI and the student power have since become obstacles to the government's attempts to pave a smooth path toward establishing stable national and international policies. The initial effort to unify student organizations was made at the time when the first all-student organizations' conference was held at Bogor in 1970, in the same manner as the government has since attempted to unify labor unions and political parties. The government's policy was clearly expressed by Sumatri, Minister of Educational and Cultural Affairs, at the student council meeting (Seminar Mahasiswa Indonesia) held at Denpasar on May 16, 1973. He discouraged students from getting involved in political causes and encouraged a formation of an all-students' association to assist the new five-year programs. At the end of the summer of 1973, such an organization had not yet emerged, and the conference at Denpasar was generally considered a failure by both the students and the government. The government at least sees some potential use for the university student organizations, but they have almost totally crushed the high school student organizations which took a violent part in the post-coup antiSukarno demonstrations. The PII (Pelajar Islam Indonesia), the younger counterpart of the HMI, is made up of young high school level students as === [PDF page 351] === 339 well as santris from pesantrens and madrasah. The PII in Wanaraja, established in 1964, claimed as many as 7000 members. During Islamic and national holidays, they were the most active members of the celebration committees at the district level. The coalition between Majlis Ulama and the HMI mobilized PII members to demonstrate the local Islamic group's power on these occasions at least until 1971. They were supported by local officials, ulama and Islamic organizations and sent delegates to the national PII conferences held at Jakarta (1966), Malang (1968), Makasar (1971) and Bandung (1973). The normalization of the organization appears to have been carefully engineered by the state. In the late 1960's PII merely served as a bellweather for the political climate of the time in favor of the new regime, as some former members described the activities during those days as rameiramei (noisy, busy, but confused). When the government turned its direction from the anti-Communist drive to more development-oriented national programs, the disruptive tendencies of the Islamic youth organization had to be removed. Many of the fund-wasting national festivals like Independence Day celebrations, typical of the Sukarno era, have been discouraged in recent years. The members' major activities nowadays are largely restricted to religious studies. The organization's 1973 conference at Bandung discussed "the development of creative generation", indicating the organization's new turn to the development-orientation orchestrated by the national leaders. The PII is still heavily dependent upon the leadership provided by the Islamic university students, teachers, the ulama and Islamic socio-political organizations. === [PDF page 352] === 340 The illustrations of major Islamic organizations have shown that many of the formally organized channels through which the ulama expanded their political and social influences have shrunk considerably as the result of governmental measures to reduce their autonomous and often divisive forces. In more recent years the government has also attempted to mobilize the ulama under their own control. The formal adoption of the Majlis Ulama into the anti-Communism campaigning, the merger of Islamic political parties, and the devaluation of youth organization have been the government's more explicit measures, whereas such semi-official "voluntary organizations " as Gupi (Gabungan Usaha Pendidikan Islam, a branch of Golkar functional groups, or BKSPP (Badan Kerjasama Pendidikan Pondok Pesantren, Pesantren, and Pondok coordinative body), have been more implicit measures in the government's attempt to incorporate the ulama into n'ational systems, so that previously autonomous ulama can be better manipulated. Many ulama have responded to these programs with apprehension for they feel the traditionally highly respected value of kepribadian (individual freedom) of the ulama is at stake. In response to these measures, some ulama have adopted skillful methods of integrating black humor into their pengajian speeches, by avoiding direct criticism against the governmental control of their organizations and activities. But influential kijaji have been more open about their opinions, and at pengajian lectures of kijaji like the one in Wanaraja, a police official is usually present. The pengajian attendance has decreased considerably in recent years after pressures put on groups arriving in Wanaraja from far places like Sukabumi and Tasik. An apparent shift in the government's policy from the mobilization of Islamic groups to the stabilization of the nation through socio-economic === [PDF page 353] === 341 progress has substantially reduced the fragmentary tendencies of politicosocial Islamic organizations. The sign of Repelita, the five-year plan, is found everywhere along with the sign of family planning, in the same manner as the leftist slogans were posted during the Sukarno era. The success of the five-year plan seems crucial to the survival of the present military regime. So long as Islamic groups remain useful to that goal, largely in the realm of religious indoctrination, their activities are encouraged, but autonomous Islamic associations which do not serve such purposes are bound to be reduced to a nominal existence. Realizing the significant use of religious groups in keeping the ideological orientation of the population against leftist ideologies, while at the same time keeping them out of power, the present government has been carefully attempting to consolidate all religious forces like they did with all other formal organizations. In West Java, the first religious community congress was held at Garut on November 30, 1967, and the resolution made by the congress showed the mood of the meeting. It first expressed gratitude to Pang Dam IV/Siliwangi for maintaining peace, order and security within the Province, second they agreed that every religious group would make efforts to prevent the return of the Communist party, and third they emphasized tolerance of religious differences of these religious groups. The conference was attended by 103 Islamic representatives, 26 Protestant leaders, 22 Catholics, and 10 Hindu-Buddhist leaders, along with Major General Dharsono, then the head of the Siliwangi Division, and several lieutenants. In August 1972, a similar seminar was held, this time in Bandung. The West Java Provincial head of Ministry of Religious Affairs, headed by former military official and Lieutenant Colonel Sulaiman, organized the === [PDF page 354] === 342 Dialoque Antara Ummat geraqama Jawa Barat (dialogue between religious communities in West Java). Sulaiman's comments on the goal of the conference again showed the attitude of the government: "The religious communities will not reach a concensus about religion, but can about national development; how far could religious communities contribute to the cause all together" (Tempo Sept. 23, 1972). The subject of secularization of religious doctrines as applied to the cause of modernization was discussed from various points of philosophy and theology and religious leadership, but no concrete program was developed from the conference. Through subtle methods, the government has its own ways of informing the religious groups about their own roles. When the ulama gather privately, they discuss the problems relating to governmental intervention, but in public are obliged to endorse the five-year plan without referring to any specific program. The villagers, in turn, learn the term Repelita without knowing its significance to them or to the government. What counts for most villagers is their own business. Only the ulama, the local government officials, and young intellectuals care about such programs, not necessarily because they believe that the government is capable of advancing social change and modernization, but because the course of the central systems will directly affect their own course of action and strategy. Summary I have shown in this chapter that the Islamic groups and the ulama have been directly influenced by the change in the nation's central systems, but the ulama have responded to the change and maneuvered to protect their own interests as Islamic leaders in rural communities. Despite the Islamic villagers' participation in the Revolutionary war, the present relationship with the central government and the rural communities led by the ulama is === [PDF page 355] === 343 marked by underlying conflict of interest between the national power-holders and the local socio-religious leaders. I t is not only this conflict, but also the central regime's inability to penetrate the local communities and the ulamas' skills in manipulating conflict situations, that seem to perpetuate the community's loyalty to the patron-medi ator-ulama, the basis upon which the ulama continue to maintain their secular social authority. === [PDF page 356] === PART THREE Chapter VIII THE CHARISMATIC KIJAJI The distinction between a kijaji and an ulama seems crucial not only for our purposes but also for the Muslem followers. For our purposes, the distinction serves to clarify the structure of Islamic leadership, and for the Muslem followers it calls for a different set of relationships, expectations and behavior patterns. The kijaji are distinguished from the ulama by possessing a largescale charismatic influence. They are believed superior both morally and as scholars, and their influence is reckoned by both the national authorities and the general public as being far more significant than village ulama. To bring the contrast between the two types of Islamic leadership, first let me again portray the general characteristics of the ulama. The role of the ulama is deeply imbedded in the social system and structure of a particular, geographically bounded and autonomous village community. The tradition of the institution of the ulama and orthodoxy is passed down over the generations, operated and supported by the ulamas' family who have traditionally produced and supplied the village with ulama cadres. The ulamas' superior status is thus legitimized by the fact of birth 1n the ulamas' family as well as their moral and religious roles in a particular community. Their moral and religious authority is further substantively backed by their traditional patron-client bonds with the community, allowing the 344 === [PDF page 357] === 345 ulama to exercise power to mobilize villagers and to make decisions on behalf of the community. The traditional bondage has been maintained by perpetuating the villagers' indebtedness to them under the disguise of "the benevolent sepuh". The ulama are, in essence, traditional leaders and system-stabilizers whose major interests lie in the preservation of the status-quo in the name of divine duty. The kijaji, on the other hand, assume large-scale moral and spiritual leadership as scholars and preachers, independent of the normative Islamic village structure. They are not the decision-makers of Islamic villages, nor do they assume the role of sepuh (patron-benefactors) by virtue of genealogical superiority. Their influence does not rest upon the loyalty of the parochial community, ensured by villagers' indebtedness for their services, nor are their positions dependent upon their families' corporate support. Instead their influence stems from their charismatic qualities. Most kijaji are thus found in towns and kampungs on the fringes of major cities and minor towns where they are able to recruit larger audiences and to indefinitely expand their realm of influence. Their structural position within the ummat thus is superior to the village ulama, and their presence serves as a symbolic unifier of the ummat as it is not unusual to find village ulama among their followers. A charismatic kijaji emerges only infrequently, outranking the rest of the ulama in a region by demonstrating his charismatic qualities in crisis situations or in his pursuit of Islamic goals. Like most other charismatic phenomena, the position of the kijaji is characterized by an absence of institutional qualities. The kijaji's position cannot be succeeded by his sons, and a death of a kijaji usually marks the end of a charismatic leadership. The issue of the incompatibility between charisma and institutions raises an interesting question with regard to the kijaji's response === [PDF page 358] === 346 to the period of peace and order prevalent in Indonesia since 1965. This chapter, therefore, i s aimed a t analyzing what constitutes the k i j a j i ' s ' charisma and showing the relationship with their personal and communal followers i n times of change. A. The Nature of Charismatics and Charismatic Phenomena There are two opposing views in the study of charisma. One is represented by Anderson and Oomen who argue that "charisma lies i n the eye of the beholder and i t is less a real quality of the leader than a quality attributed t o him" (Anderson 1972:65, Oomen 1967:85). Thus, charisma to social scientists is s t i l l a quality that cannot be defined and which may only be characterized by a l i s t of adjectival nouns such as "powerful, ascendant, persistent, effectively expressive, exceptional courage, decisiveness, self-confidence, fluency, insight, and energy" (Shils 1969: 200) manifested in word, idea, action and demeanor. The other view is that of the empirical sociologists represented by Parsons: "charisma is not a metaphysical entity but a s t r i c t l y empirical observable quality of men and things in relation to human acts and attitudes" (Parsons 1948:668-669), or by F r i e d r i c h, who states that charisma i s "a t h i n g, a possession to have and to hold" (Friedrich 1961:4). Indeed some charismatic q u a l i t i e s are v i s i b l e to the observer, while others are not. What i s v i s i b l e is the charismatic's a b i l i t y, what is not is the quality attributed to him by his followers. I t seems to me that t h i s interplay, between r e a l i t y and image, creates the effective charismatic phenomenon. Like any other kind of i n t e r a c t i o n, i t is motivated and experienced. Charismatic interaction takes place between the superior charismatic, who influences the subordinate follower, and the follower who responds to the desired quality seen through his eyes but which are also === [PDF page 359] === 347 created and manipulated by the charismatic's ability. Thus, a successful charismatic is an individual who sees this interplay clearly. There is no charismatic phenomenon where charisma is not initiated by the charismatic's display of his inherent, learned, and disciplined abilities. Thus an analysis of this interplay becomes a critical issue for the understanding of the system of charismatic interaction. Because the charismatics are capable of seeing this interplay, they are in the position to manipulate themselves as well as the images attributed to them by their followers. The followers, on the other hand, by virtue of not being able to see this interplay of ability and image, are drawn into believing the truthfulness and sincerity of the charismatic's inspiration, and view the charismatic's qualities as being sacred, undistinguished from,but rather an extension of, divinity. A workable charismatic interaction, therefore, rests on the persuasiveness of the dominant party, and the responsiveness of the subordinate party when they are addressing themselves to their shared goals. If these conditions are not present, a charismatic phenomenon fails to take place. Thus I propose that charismatic authority should be rephrased as charismatic dominance and influence and what we are studying here is the directions and aspirations (rather than the definite goal) and the manner in which the charismatics manipulate themselves and their public image. It is from this interactionalist approach that we will begin to discuss: 1) the charismatic ki.ia.iis' ability to create a mood of their sacred cause and inspiration which makes them look and sound genuine (Geertz 1969), and 2) the qualities that are attributed to the kijaji by their followers as a result of their displayed qualities. The following data derive solely fron the observation and intensive study of one charismatic kijaji, but a similar study of a === [PDF page 360] === 348 charismatic kijaji in East Java by Geertz (1960b:134-135) shows that this pattern is not uncommon in Indonesia. B. The Nature of the Kijaji's* Charisma The most essential element of the charismatic ability is to "succeed more than others in understanding what the people in their society feel most strongly about or can be made to feel strongly about" (Oomen 1967:94). They speak to the unconscious of those with whom they come into contact (Mcintosh 1969:909). And the unconscious need is to "awaken the disposition of awe and reverence" because "men need an order within which they can locate themselves, an order providing coherence, continuity, and justice", and a connection to a larger order gives meaning and worth. The charisma is therefore "felt to inhere in the major order-affecting system of roles" The dynamic personality, or extraordinariness, of the charisma is a manifestation of the charismatic individual's abilities. Rather than being something to be possessed and held, charisma is something that is acquired, practiced, and experimented with over the years, through interactions with peers, family, and colleagues. The kijaji whom I studied had only a few years of formal education, but he had a shrewd and sharp mind, which he said was developed through "self-study, criticism, and improvement". While he was growing up, he observed his father, who was himself a charismatic kijaji, his maternal uncle, Ba'ali, of the Cilame pesantren which flourished during the first few decades of this century, and Haji Adra, a formidable political activist. In other words, he was surrounded by charismatic personalities, and had an acute enough mind and a strong enough interest to absorb the charismatic personality and style. === [PDF page 361] === 349 A charismatic personality is impatient with and uninterested in learning and following established norms. The kijaji's acculturation process, for example, greatly differs from that of his brother Haji Qudus who later became a scholarly expert in Islamic law. Throughout his childhood and adolescence, he was a constant worry to his father. He never sat down patiently and studied agama like his elder brother, but instead preferred playing with the village children of poorer families—people who were not expected to become ulama. He used to take them to the mountains, teach them games, and would not return home for hours. He was naughty and knew how to escape parental punishment with the help of his personal charm, and strong and stubborn temperament. He liked to associate with poor and unintellectual children, rather than the offspring of the rich and learned, and he took good care of his playmates, a quality which persists to the present day. His followers refer to this as kecintaan kepada orang kecil (sympathy and compassion for the less favored). This impatient and basically unorthodox bent of mind is beneficial for the charismatic individual, for he seeks to rise to quick success solely by relying on his unique persunalUy and dynamism. Gagah (autonomy and freedom from constraints) is a key quality for becoming a kijaji. Because the kijaji already showed signs of gagah as a child, his father preferred him to his elder brother, who was obedient and industrious, yet because of his attendant readiness to fight, and stubborn resistance to authority, his father worried about his future. He showed no sign of wanting to become an ulama and might therefore turn into a jago (gang leader) instead. So his father took him to the fields to teach him agricultural techniques, hoping that if he would not turn into an ulama, at least he might become a successful farmer. The kijaji recalls that, for many hours a day, his === [PDF page 362] === 350 father taught him agricultural skills. Since the boy would not learn agama from books or teachers his father also taught him religious and moral principles as both worked in the field. The kijaji recalls that he was excited about exploring the new agricultural techniques and experimenting with new seeds to maximize the crops while experiencing direct contact with nature and the divine. At this stage of his growth as the son of a kijaji, he was already developing a sensitivity to the divine through experience rather than through scholarly books. The kijaji spent a total of 13 years in pesantrens before he got married, but he claims that he never mastered a single book of the kitab, taught by the teachers through the method of taqlid (blind obedience to the previously synthesized and accepted interpretations of Islamic scholars). Instead, he played around, as if awaiting his turn to express his own interpretations. He did not gain much from the pesantren at Sukabumi, to the despair of his father, who wished that his old friend there, the kijaji Sanusi, could give him some discipline as well as teach him agama through the traditional manner. His parents used to send him food and sweets, but he usually distributed them among his santri friends, thus gaining popularity among them for his generosity as well as his unusual personality. He says that he derives more pleasure from giving than from receiving, another quality that his followers admire. He waited until he was struck by divine inspiration. He was next sent to the pesantren Nyubelak at Cirebon, where his guru was a Sufi tasawwuf expert. The kijaji was fascinated by the teachings of tasawwuf, which emphasize a "system" of achieving self-sanctification and self-purification rather than a concentration on the programmatic details of the ilmu agama. In essence, the Sufi tasawwuf gave him, for the first time, a serious === [PDF page 363] === 351 challenge which fitted his temperament. He began to test himself against the unlimited power of the divine through experience, regarding every incident that followed as a testing ground (percobaan) of his devotion to the divine and its response to him. He and his brother were sent to Tasik to learn si!at (the Malay art of self-defense) from a friend of his father. He acquired his skill within a week or so, at which point the pupil could defeat his own master. One of his nephews, a junior ulama at Cipari, who is himself a recognized silat expert, says the the kijaji must have been taught by the divine spirit. One of the most talked-about episodes which illustrates his skill in silat was when several jagos came to Wanaraja and challenged the kijaji. The kijaji told them to tie him up first, and then it took him less than a minute to knock out all five of them. A charismatic is a non-conformist. His unorthodox behavior does, not become subject to social sanctions because of his strong conviction to the higher goal which is shared by the rest of the community. The kijaji's non-conformism was evident in many aspects even when he was young. In 1923 his brother and mother made the haji to Mecca and he took a new name which is his today. Unlike all the others, he refused to wear a white pici hat and a scarf, articles of clothing which symbolize purity. Instead, he preferred to wear the Malay jagos' black outfit which consists of a shirt and a pair of loose pants coupled with a sarong over the shoulders. For the next 10 years or so he wandered around by himself or with his friends to visit people who were believed to be Sufi walis (those who have achieved the highest ilmu, and therefore can communicate with the divine directly and thereby see into the future and work miracles). As the teacher Confucius did to his students, a sufi saint would ask questions of his pupils through analogy. One such example the kijaji could === [PDF page 364] === 352 recall was when he visited one who lived right outside of Bandung. The guru produced five strings, each of a different length, and asked him and his friends what they signified. Only the Kijaji could answer: the five strings represented the bondage to God in the shape of the five Islamic pillars (ibadat). The unequal length showed that not all of them have the same priority; the syahadat, or the confession of the belief in God's oneness and Muhammad as his prophet being the most important. In this structure of priorities, the shortest and least significant was to make the haji. This kind of teaching is applied by the kijaji himself when he teaches his followers. Instead of teaching doctrines and principles, he would rather present a question out of everyday life which most others would take for granted. His marriage to a daughter of a lurah (village head) in Wanaraja was also a measure of his non-conformism. If that was not bad enough, the fact that she was a divorcee with two children and 10 years older than he was really extraordinary. Village administrators are generally looked down upon by the Islamic group as exploiters of the masses, and divorce is also regarded negatively. His wife not only had a sharp mind, but some mystical inclinations as well. With the help of the spirits (as he put it), she learned the recipe for making soy sauce, and sold it as a local store very successfully. She was also a good housekeeper, bearing him four sons and three daughters. His second marriage, after his first wife's death, was equally unique. She is one-quarter German in descent and the former wife of the kijaji's guru at the Sukabumi pesantren where he had met her long ago and developed a liking for her. When he later found out that she had married his own guru he had been furious and had left Sukabumi to wander about seeking tranquility for his soul. When his guru died the kijaji had === [PDF page 365] === 353 been a widower for quite some time and within half a year he had married the guru's widow. The children of his second wife by her first husband all left their home and pesantren shortly after their father's death to take up forbidden jobs or to study at modern educational institutions: one became a medical doctor, another the director 1f IAIN (Institute Agama Islam Negara, National Islamic Institute), and still another became an official in the Ministry of the Treasury at Jakarta. The kijaji encouraged and supported them through school. A charismatic is a creative reformer. Whether he may be constructive or destructive to the society as a whole, he has his own vision of the shortcomings of the status-quo. His sympathy is with the oppressed of the system. The charismatic kijaji, for example, did not derive much satisfaction from learning the scholarly details of Islamic knowledge from books. He was discontented with the lessons of his teachers which failed to provide a vision of a comprehensive religious system necessary "to help the believers attain a peaceful mind and a sound soul" rather than instilling in them fear of eternal damnation. He left home and the institutions to discover his own system by way of soul-searching journeys. The kijaji began to give pengajian lectures shortly after he returned from Mecca. His experience of walking with a large crowd of believers through the desert bathed in moonlight had completed his inspiration of the unity of Nature with the Divine, and when he returned he had a compelling desire to share his experience with others. When he gave his first lengthy pengajian lecture before the public, his father was frightened by his son's courage, knowing that he had not mastered even a single kitab, but was surprised when the audience responded well with a great emotional intensity. His father was aware then that his son was not meant to become a teacher- === [PDF page 366] === 354 ulama, but a preacher-kijaji. To be a teacher one must have detailed knowledge of an array of facts such as his eldest son possessed, but to be a preacher, one must have the ability to strengthen the believers' faith such as the kijaji has. The latter art requires a deep appreciation of the psychic needs of the audience, an ability which his younger son apparently possessed. 1. Charismatic Ability A charismatic has the ability to read the minds of his audience because he has developed an appreciation of various kinds of individuals: the ulama, village peasants, sanjtrNclassmates, strangers on the street as they travel from pesantren to pesantren in search of well-known kijajis' and Wall's1 wisdom, as well as the ignorant and troubled villagers for whom the kijaji must act as a spiritual guide. The way he interacts with them and the audiences remarkably resembles his expertise in silat, where one must predict the moves of an enemy in advance in order to counterattack. So too, one must anticipate the feelings of the audience in order to inspire it. He has a deep understanding of what Mcintosh (1969:909) has called the "unconscious oppression" of the audience. But that is not enough, for the charismatic must also be equipped with the skill to a) evoke this unconscious oppression and b) put it into the proper perspective for action. He must bring it out into the open and thereby instill courage rather than dark anxiety. Evoking psychic oppression Nothing is more essential for a charismatic than to be able to manipulate the psyche of his audience. In order to do this, he must be fully equipped with their cultural ethos, and an ability to use the kinds of === [PDF page 367] === 355 Images which will create the proper interaction. In this process of dyadic exchange between speaker and audience, the goal of the speaker is to create the perspective of himself as a leader. A man of low intensity and profile cannot stir his followers to action. A charismatic appeals to the audience as a personification of the community's ethos and values. The kind of oppression upon which the kijaji works is a mixture of hope, reality, and fantasy, and the effect he creates is one of continuity rather than of disjunction between them. The kijaji introduces the audience into the domain of the sacred and connects them to a larger order (ShiIs 1969:204). The ulama is likely to emphasize the dichotomy between the almighty Divine and the totally helpless Muslem believers, whereas the kijaji projects their connectedness through the mediation of faith. Allah is not forever unreachable once the Muslems acquire the system of knowledge and have attained a total state of purity from the elements of contamination (najis, sinful acts and contaminated objects). God, portrayed by the kijaji, is not aloof, but active in the affairs of men: "God is Rohman-Rohim (compassionate and merciful), He has promised that He will hslp those who are devoted to Him and ask for His guidance and blessing, and He will reward the pious. One should never give up hope for salvation, however evil one might have been, for God is almighty and just and considers the conditions under which men act." The tie with the divine can be maintained through devotion and acts of faith, rather than out of fear of divine punishment. Heaven is not the most desired place except for the nikmat of rasa (pleasuresome feelings), and for that matter, heaven is obtainable in this world through good works, self-sanctification (membersihkan diri) and unification with the divine. The Muslem's goal, then, is not so much to obtain eternal salvation per se, as to acquire this rasa, the feeling of the soul === [PDF page 368] === 356 characterized by its impartially encompassing this world and the next, the end of the world, the Last Day of Judgment, and the eternal world (acherat). A successful charismatic motivates his followers by creating a mood of awe and reverence for a higher order beyond the trivialities of ordinary existence. Charismatic skill then rests on the ability to span this created division by emphasizing the continuity between the threshold of reality and the valued domain of fantasy which symbolizes the transition from this world to the next. Such an ability heavily relies upon the charismatic's rhetorical skill which can create the desired mood. Such phrases as "the world's biggest, the highest morality and piety ever achieved by man" or, "extraordinary strength" create the image of cosmic scale. The kijaji, for example, vividly portrays the nikmat of heavenly joy and the manifestations of Divine nikmat (the Divine power of wisdom and reward) when a Muslem man achieves the highest level of purity and devotion. He tells stories of men he has encountered in the past who had mysterious, transcendental powers, such as speaking in tongues, surpassing the limits of old age and death, saving others, and seeing into the future because they had direct access to rahasia Tuhan (Divine secrets). This may seem farfetched to a critical observer, but to his listeners it seems genuine, or, as Geertz put it: "the mood and motivations are so powerful, pervasive, and long-lasting..., clothing those conceptions of a general order of existence with such an aura of factuality that the mood and motivations seem uniquely realistic" Geertz 1966). The power of the kijaji's words successfully bridges the gap between the empirical world and spiritual world of the audience, invoking among them a moving force toward their ideal goals. === [PDF page 369] === 357 Putting it into proper perspective for action Any goal-oriented action, such as those of the Muslem believers, is structured. Each action, whether ritual, good works, or self-sanctification, is a conscious endeavor toward the goal of eternal salvation and/or the achievement of transcendental power. Once unconscious oppression is transformed into a hope for the desired goal the charismatic provides perspectives for action in order to reach this goal. This is the stage of strategy building. The kijaji differs from the ulama in this respect, since the kijaji can expand and teach: 1) the structure of the belief system, and 2) how to achieve the ultimate end by making the best use of vital human faculties. The orthodox ulama are limited to resorting to Divine authority and wrath: "God so ordered men, and not to obey the law is to take the consequence of eternal damnation in hell." It requires a creative mind necessary to organize a lecture and to present it in such a way that ordinary peasant followers can understand. The kijaji likes to explain the system in three steps. The number three is mysterious for the Muslems, but it also creates the maximum effect of a structural dimension without confusing the audience. The religious system is explained in terms of its three constituents: knowledge, action, and belief, which corresponds to the three elements of human faculties, mind, body, and heart. The kijaji preaches that in order to achieve a high moral standard, and acquire God's blessings, one must work on purifying and opening up the Divine on these three levels, but the taskforeach faculty varies as the functions differ from each other. The mind acquires knowledge of the religious system, the body carries out ibadat (required ritual, good work and self-sanctification) and the heart sustains a desire for good or evil. All these three elements, however, are interrelated and must work === [PDF page 370] === 358 together to achieve the goal: the knowledge of the Divine way chooses right from wrong, and this knowledge expels evil desires and evokes a good desire, and when the desire is pursued it manifests itself in action and strengthens the faith. When words fall to convey an effective message, the kijaji resorts to symbolic metaphores to further clarify the system. From what instances the kijaji draws such metaphores depends upon his timely insight. In explaining the relationship between knowledge, action and faith, for example, the kijaji referred to an instance of riding a train to Jakarta: The confession (syahadat) is like buying a ticket to register oneself as a Muslem member of the Divine order and the ummat. The ticket holder is thereafter acknowledged as a member of the ummat and the Divine order. The rail upon which the train runs is like the knowledge which guides the Muslems' actions toward destinations. As a train needs some form of energy to pull itself toward a destination, Muslem men need merits and God's blessings, which are acquired through ibadat, acts of devotion to God. When the train reaches Jakarta, however, one can accomplish the mission of the trip. In the same manner, when a person achieves a heavenly status, his life mission is accomplished, as nikmat (pleasure) awaits him afterwards in heaven. A charismatic is an affirmative optimist. His affirmative attitude towards mankind in general always finds echoes among the followers, since it not only gives hope, but perspectives for betterment. The charismatic kijaji. for example, emphasizes man's effort for knowledge and good works more than repetitive ritual requirements. He replaces the fear-driven piety with the piety stemming from man's desire to maintain ties with the Divine. Rather than belittling man's capability before predetermination, he preaches the value of self-will and self-effort. Rather than condemning the === [PDF page 371] === 359 feable soul and weak faith, the kijaji motivates them to good works and acquiring of knowledge by providing perspectives and incentives for action. The charismatic does not take the status-quo for granted, but devotes himself to Initiating change. The kijaji preaches that God assists righteous causes. It is this sense of devotion and conviction in the power of the divine goodness that drives charismatics into a dynamic, courageous, but often reckless action in times of crises. The kijaji encourages his followers into self-effort by metaphorically comparing such endeavor with a train coming out of a long, dark tunnel, or a new baby emerging from the womb; after going through a long period of darkness and struggle, there is bound to be the bright world open to those who have aimed high for the cause. Though the kijaji does not reject the doctrine of taqdir (predetermination), he does not interpret it as the conventional fatalism, but instead, he views taqdir only as a limit of human endeavor toward achievement. The kijaji's strength thus lies with his ability to speak common sense and still evoke from his audience a desire and action. 2. Charismatic Quality I have distinguished charismatic quality from charismatic ability because the qualities are not wholly observable but are attributed and perceived by the followers as manifestations of his "gift of grace" (Shils 1969:200). The charismatic quality, however, cannot be viewed as a separate and independent entity from the charismatic ability, for both qualities and abilities mutually reinforce the image of genuine truthfulness of the charismatic and his aspirations. But since most followers do not see the charismatic's manipulative skill, what they perceive as the charismatic's qualities become more vital to their responses toward him. === [PDF page 372] === 360 Before a man 1s recognized and identified as a charismatic possessing "Divine grace", two prerequisite conditions must prevail. First, these qualities must be in accord with the ideal values upheld by the receptive community in a specific cultural context. Extraordinary qualities and abilities which fail in this respect do not create a charismatic aura around the individual, for they are symbolically wrong cues. Oftentimes such behaviors are subjected to ostracism and result in elimination of the individual from the community. Secondly, these highly valued abilities are perceived by the same cultural group as something extremely difficult to acquire or sustain. It is this conception of near-inaccessibility of the quality by the public that makes it appear extraordinary. Only when such qualities are recognized to be far beyond the ability of a normal person, can the individual who displays such abilities convince his audience that he has crossed the critical threshold of this-worldly limits to the transcendental domain and succeed in evoking the awesome sense of revelation from the witnessing followers. As an ecclesiastical charismatic, the kijaji's charismatic persuasiveness rests on the followers' belief that the kijaji has transcendental qualities. He is the paragon of the cosmic image of divinity and a living example of the ma'anf (the highest Sufi status and knowledge) in the eyes of the followers. The kijaji teaches Sufi tasawwuf and how to achieve the highest possible status desired by Muslem believers and to approach the Divine and to acquire transcendental power. The kijaji talks of Sufi walis whom he has encountered or heard about and encourages his followers to aspire to that goal through self-effort. The description of hikmat (rewarding wisdom and power once such a status is acquired) of heavenly joy, however, does not appear as persuasive as the demeanor of the kijaji === [PDF page 373] === 361 himself. The k i j a j i generates the mood In which his qualities are a l l the more appreciated. His followers' belief that the k i j a j i has crossed the threshold to the transcendental domain, has experienced the communication with the Divine, and has therefore received Divine grace and favor, is an outcome of the charismatics' extraordinary actions 1n the past to defend the religion and the community. The dynamic personality of charismatic individuals is observed in their decisive, timely and courageous actions just as much as i n their speeches. Among the ethnic Sundanese there is a pervasive cultural value to which a l l the Muslem men aspire and which serves to measure the value of the charismatic's extraordinariness. This value, gagah (having courage), is characterized by the quality of a man who rejects a l l the constraints of authority, this-worldly limitations, and personal weakness, and pursues power for the righteous cause against a hostile environment. and power. A successful pursuit is then the proof of his worth The tendency to equate power and autonomy with individual personal worth stems from the value of free w i l l so highly desired by the Sundanese and the Javanese. An individual with power is free from thisworldly limitations including domination by others as well as the l i m i t of the physical world; he is the master of the self. self-respect and self-righteousness. Power generates i n t e g r i t y, One cannot escape from the eyes of a man of gagah, for he speaks of righteousness and justice directly to one's conscience and his words are substantiated by his ready actions at any cost. People would listen to him, feel attuned to his sense of righteousness and comply with his orders with a sense of awe. To some extent every Muslem male villager strives for this kind of power. However small the domain of influence may be, the Sundanese man === [PDF page 374] === 362 seems to like to portray himself as such a man of worth. It would be disgraceful for a Muslem man not to have his authority acknowledged by his family. A rural migrant finds it worth mentioning how respected and trusted he is even in a strange city where he works. Despite his subordinate status to the head of the family, a lesser and younger ulama of the village of Cipari feels compelled to talk repeatedly of how many demands he gets from various groups of people in a wide geographical area for his pengajian lectures. One of the respected teachers of the village school looked back with sentiment on those days when he was the head of the HMI at Garut, had large-scale influence among his followers and commanded leadership. Muslem men show signs of pride when they declare that they are not afraid of anything but God, not even the jinn (Islamic spirits). To be demanded and indispensable, to be free of fear of the physical environment and of the authorities is strongly identified as proof of masculinity and self-worth 1n contrast to feable and submissive femininity. The kijaji has successfully presented himself before the followers as a man of great worth: During the twenties and thirties he defiantly challenged Dutch political oppression against the awakening Indonesian Islamic nationalism. During the Revolution he lead his private army against the Dutch occupation of West Java, and at the time of the Darul Islam rebellion, he defended the mosque and madrasah with seven archaic weapons and saved a thousand refugees hiding in the mosque. His courage, devotion and strength appeared beyond that of an ordinary man and his successful undertaking was construed by his followers as proof of his infallability, the hikmat of having achieved the state of ma'arif, and the manifestations of his transcendental intelligence: He did not fear, people said, because he has known Rahasia Tuhan (God's secret plans) and has touched the "awareness === [PDF page 375] === 363 of immortal life", which "excludes all the limitations which are essentially inherent in ignorance" (Nicholson 1914:123). Another cultural value which the kijaji lives up to is ethical and moral principles. By far the most admired quality of the kijaji frequently cited by his followers is his fairness toward humanity regardless of social status and positions: "The kijaji sleeps only three hours daily and he is tawakkal, devoted to serve God's purposes. He is above all fearful of God, pursues justice and fairness to us all." The kijaji strongly condemns arrogance among the people of high social status while siding with the poor and the insignificant peasant masses. In a highly stratified society people interact with each other in accordance with the dictates of the society's social systems and thereby preserve its social order in day-to-day interactions. The kijaji, however, breaks this rule and treats the high ranking officials in the same way as he does his peasant followers. He offers help to the poor as well as to the rich. The kijaji never supports the powerful and the rich for his own personal gain at the expense of the poor and the powerless. During the Darul Islam rebellion many ulama and the rich moved to cities but the kijaji alone remained and protected the villagers who had nowhere else to go. When he was a member of National Assembly in Jakarta, he commuted rather than move to the city. When he does not have enough funds himself, he collects funds from his rich friends and mobilizes people to repair roads, bridges and public facilities. While benevolence, fairness and generosity on personal levels are necessary qualifications of any leader in Indonesia, they are particularly crucial to the kijaji. A charismatic articulates the values of the community to the outside world and he serves as the symbol of the community. === [PDF page 376] === 364 As such, a charismatic must consistently present himself before the community in terms of those attributes that are most broadly valued by the general population, attract a broader audience, and recruit his followers for goals that are most generally shared. A charismatic finally establishes his charismatic authority when his transcendental qualities are proved before the followers by means of his successful undertakings toward the achievement of an immediate collective goal. This was illustrated by the kijaji's triumph over the Darul Islam terrorists. The villagers pointed out that Kartosuwirjo, the leader of the 111-fated movement, was a false charismatic but the kijaji is a genuine one since the former was defeated proving God's disapproval of his endeavor and the absence of His "gift of grace". C. Preserving Charismatic Influence Unlike the institution of the ulamate the influential position of the kijaji is only temporary since his charismatic functions cannot be taken over by his heirs. Even during his lifetime threats to his position and influence prevail. The predicament of the kijaji stems from the fact that his influence is based on the power of his personal attributes and persuasion. As Weber observed, a charismatic much as the kijaji must consistently display his "unusual qualities" before his followers in order to sustain his charismatic authority. At times of crisis, the kijaji's fearlessness, courageous demeanor and his effective leadership are beneficial to the community and form the basis of his followers' compliance with his leadership. Once they achieve their immediate goals and threats are eliminated from the community, a charismatic is faced with the problem of absence of a goal to which he can direct his followers and display his leadership. === [PDF page 377] === 365 Most charismatics, at least initially, attempt to adapt to a newly created or pre-existing structure that legitimizes their leadership position and influence, allowing their positions to be reduced to symbolic and inactive ones while still retaining potential for effective power and Influence for the prospective future. In the process of this transition from a decision-making charismatic to a symbolic one, a charismatic must nevertheless continuously present a vision for the future and remind his followers of a further cause. Whether a charismatic can successfully retain his position and influence in the post-crisis transitions is then up to his insightful ability to manipulate meaningful cultural symbols and the psychic need of his followers. What has been affecting the kijaji's position in recent years has not been caused by modernization and social change in general as some social scientists observed elsewhere (Scott 1972 and Silverman 1965), but rather by the development of political stability in the center of the nation's capital. In the first place, in an attempt to depoliticize the peasantry, the government has applied measures toward decreasing popular leadership. As a result, such measures as raising public transportation fares and strict regulations against population mobility between places have discouraged the kijaji's followers from Sukabumi and Tasikmalaya from making regular trips to the kijaji's madrasah. Furthermore, the presence of government officials in the audience has also inhibited the kijaji from making sharp remarks against government policies. What is probably the most damaging effect of all to the kijaji, however, is the change of mood among his supporters. Ever since the present military regime came into power the threats of the Communists have been removed from the public concern and eliminated the mood of crisis among the === [PDF page 378] === 366 people. The elimination of these elements of immediate crisis has resulted in depriving the kijaji of opportunities for practicing his leadership role for a collective action. In more recent years, the only channels through which the kijaji has interacted and kept in touch with his mass followers has been through his regular pengajian lecture meetings. All of his pengajian attendants come to gather at his madrasah to gain something from the kijaji, and the kijaji must satisfy all of these needs 1f he is to preserve his influence. The majority of them, however, seem to attend these meetings for various reasons other than to increase their religious comprehension or to seek his personal guidance and leadership for collective action. Rather, they seem to come to satisfy their need to order their otherwise unstable existence in the world around them and to find ways to cope with the problems of anxiety arising from such a world view. To most of them, pengajian meetings provide them opportunities to increase religious merits. Simultaneously they hope to acquire God's blessings by sharing the message of the kijaji whom they regard as a holy man. Some of them come to acquire religious inspiration and secret knowledge from the kijaji about the system of tasawwuf, Sufism. They need assurance from the kijaji so that they can continue to manage their life and their fears and anxieties. The kijaji is equally aware of the frame of mind of his audience and carefully meanuvers his talk along these lines to satisfy their needs. The kijaji sometimes gives outlines of the world events and makes predictions about the course of the future, despite the fact that the kijaji only reads the newspaper headlines. Like a magician to his clients, he sometimes suggests remedies and provides his personal formulae as to which sura chapters from the Quran should be recited so many times for each week in order to obtain God's special blessing, help and favor. === [PDF page 379] === 367 In other words, one of the adaptive mechanisms of the kijaji's transition from an active decision-maker to a symbolic and inactive ecclesiastical charismatic has been to transform into a mediator between the Muslem community and the Divine, between now and the future and between chaos and order. The kijaji's ecclesiastical commands are religiously followed by the community, for the kijaji still remains the purest and closest to the Divine and is believed to have access to the knowledge of Rahasia Tuhan, the Divine Secret. The kijaji carefully chooses religious and cultural symbols in order to dramatize and strengthen his spiritual ties with his followers. The kijaji has been frequently accused of being a mystique and magic practitioner, but in recent years this tendency seems to have become increasingly predominant probably as the result of the fact that other means of exercising his charismatic influence have been closed. He provides doa restu (a drink of water in which the Quranic verses are recited by the kijaji) to people in spiritual crisis or those who are seriously ill. He gives a hardful of uncooked rice in a plastic bag or three broken pieces of tiny bamboo skewers to people exposed to danger or in distress. He surrounds himself with such amulets as unusual stones, unusual coconut tea cups, and rice bowls which are believed to have been passed down to him through a chain of Sufi saints. He also helps his rich patron-friends with fortune telling. Another thing the kijaji often does for the same reason is to make predictions about major catastrophes, political crises and natural disasters. Several years ago he foretold an earthquake: Most of his pengajian audience responded to this with real fright, and some of them even urged the local administrators to arrange a rescue team in advance. When the predicted earthquake failed to materialize, the kijaji's transcendental qualities === [PDF page 380] === 368 before the eyes of his spectators nevertheless did not decrease, for the failure was attributed to the successful plea of his followers for God's mercy. He no longer makes specific predictions as before, but he still continues to frighten his audience with such predictions as World War III, floods, draughts and Communist uprisings. The kijaji justifies his making of predictions in terms of his endeavor to strengthen the piety of Muslem followers who appear to him to have been more inclined toward materialism than spiritualism. It is clear, however, that his unconscious aim in his foretellings seems to be directed toward creating an unstable situation and a mood of crisis among his followers so as to recapture their attention and ascertain the ground upon which he can perform his best charismatic act. D. The Structure and Function of the Kijaji The Islamic kijaji occupies the central position of the rural Islamic communities and unifies segments of the society into a coherent body capable of collective action if necessary. He plays a pivotal role between the ummat and the Divine. For the majority of his followers, the kijaji represents the symbol of all that his followers aspire to and regard as ideals of a Muslem follower, blessed with the gift of knowledge and the Divine grace. As such, the relationship between the kijaji and his community is collective and impersonal: The kijaji must maintain certain distance from the masses to preserve the image of a symbolic leader not easily accessible to the public. Only a handful of his closest associates mediate between the kijaji and the masses and interact with them as individuals. All of his associates occupy leadership or prestigious social positions in their respective communities. The ulama, who gather around the man as his followers, hold regular religious seminars led by the kijaji. === [PDF page 381] === 369 Some of them are ambitious rural leaders aspiring to ascend the status ladder through association with the kijaji and rising to reputation in their own communities. The group of ulama form a network of communication and connection to exchange pengajian services, share information regarding the outside world of government and politics and exchange santri students providing them with training in specialized subjects otherwise unobtainable from a single ulama. Such a bondage between the kijaji and the leading ulama is often temporary and when the kijaji dies, for example, it will disintegrate gradually. The kijaji serves as the source of knowledge and inspiration to the ulama who in turn help the kijaji to expand his influence through them as they serve as mediators between the kijaji and parochial localities. The relationship between the kijaji and the ulama appears casual at first glance, but the order of status difference, respect, and obedience is carefully observed by each ulama. They make jokes about the outside world, talk of mundane practical matters and avoid disagreeing with the kijaji. Although the kijaji never explicitly forces his followers to comply with his suggestions and warnings, he would feel cheated if he found out that his advice and suggestions were ignored. When I failed to comply with his suggested plans to utilize my ill-fated jeep for a commercial gain, the kijaji had to make a special trip to my village to find out the reason and to express his dissatisfaction with the way I resolved the question, Independent of his suggestions. The relationship between the rich patron-friends and the kijaji, on the other hand, is marked by an uneasy ambiguity on the part of the kijaji. The rich friends are worthy of becoming the kijaji's close associates for reasons none other than their economic wealth and donations upon which the === [PDF page 382] === 370 kijaji is dependent to initiate and carry out public works and to exercise his initiatives. The kijaji who preaches spiritualism finds it hard to accept the fact that he must become friends with the rich for the sake of obtaining donations for the public. The rich friends express their pleasure 1n sharing goals of the Islamic ummat through their donations, but the kijaji is fully aware of the fact that it is more important for them to earn merits and to acquire public recognition for their own purposes than to help public projects per se. The kijaji's position vis-a-vis the rich cannot be clearly defined as he does not share immediate goals of Islamization with them as he does with the ulama. The rich, in other words, are outside Islamic ideological social structure and the accumulation of the wealth is in fact antithesis to its dogma; the kijaji would rather avoid them than maintain a regular interactional basis. One other important dimension of the kijaji's relationship with his community must be added: The kijaji's role as spiritual leader and motivator to Sufi Tasawwuf is largely restricted to his male audience and has little to do with female constituents, to whom the kijaji plays a saintly Godlike role, giving them blessings and confering the magical merits with which the women tend to be more obsessed. What about the role of the kijaji as mediator, which was initially brought to our attention by Geertz? What is the nature of the kijaji's relationship with the agents of encompassing systems and even that of the Islamic world outside Indonesia? One might say that the kijaji occupies a mediating position, but the kijaji's role as a mediator of encompassing national systems is only minor and secondary to his pivotal role unifying the sectors of Islamic rural communities. Empirically, the kijaji does not transmit instructions from the outside into the community except occasionally === [PDF page 383] === 371 approving the outside agents to mobilize his community. The reverse, the role of the kijaji as a representative of the community to the national system 1s, however, an important one. The community has endorsed the kijaji as their leader and speaker. This trend has slightly changed in recent years, as the military regime has increased its grip on rural communities. The kijaji clearly avoids any commitment to any political party nor does he endorse the present regime wholeheartedly, but he is obliged to endorse the government's new five-year plan and particularly on the aspect of the "mental-spiritual development" among the population in general. The kijaji carefully avoids taking an active part in organized semi-government organizations such as the MU and the Golkar. Interestingly, though, the ki-'aji accepts governmental funds for upgrading public facilities and repairing his madrasah. In this respect, the kijaji can be less concerned than local ulama with the consequences such an act might incur. The village ulama are more apprehensive of accepting ready-made governmental assistance precisely because of their insufficient ability and power to deal with the government, once it begins to impinge upon their authority for favors in return. The superior status of the kijaji is unshakable before the government officials, and the kijaji takes full advantage of this to the best of his and the community's interest. The kijaji's past record in both the independence movement under the Dutch rule and during the Revolution, and the people's respect for his religious scholarship and obedience to his Instructions are such that the government officials do not easily threaten the kijaji's position. Thus as long as the kijaji remains within the confines of the regime's goals (that is to endorse the program of "mentalspiritual development" and to abstain from making criticisms against the === [PDF page 384] === 372 government in public), the kijaji is much better situated than the officials who share a double standard with the Islamic ummat and the present regime. The kijaji often discusses the insufficiency of the government support and Ineffectiveness of its policies in private conversations with the high officials, and the kijaji is good at cornering them into the embarrassing reality of their double identity. If they are Muslems, the kijaji argues, they should be equally fearful of Divine retribution and the kijaji's transcendental power. A local police officer, for example, who bothered the village ulama in Cipari was humble before the kijaji. The government 1s also aware of the fact that the kijaji has the potential power to mobilize his followers to his wishes and it is to their interest to maintain a reasonable relationship with the kijaji particularly when he could be useful for indoctrinating the public against the Communists. To evaluate the overall effect and the roles of this particular kijaji in the rural context, the kijaji is no longer an effective system-creating charismatic but a valuable system-maintaining one. Unlike in Aceh around the turn of the last century (Siegel 1969) the contemporary kijaji's concerns are with the Islamic orthodoxy and the realization of Islamic goals. The kijaji for example, is extremely antagonistic against the Persis (Persatuan Islam), the modern Wahabist movement in Indonesia, just as much as he abhors the Communists, for both aim at removing the role of rural ulama and kijaji as obstacles to change: The modernists condemn rural pesantren and religious leaders as obstacles to religious piety and ijtithad (free thinking through logic), and the Communists condemn them as obstacles to the rise of class consciousness among the peasantry. The kijaji and the ulama continue with their tasks in the communities despite the antagonistic forces from other Islamic sectors, and undesirable === [PDF page 385] === 373 government interference. The community, the ulama and their ummat share the allegiance to Islamic causes. The source of the moving force of unity as an ummat is located in the mind and visions of the kijaji. Now that the immediate threats from the Communists have been removed and the political turmoil has subsided, the Islamic rural leaders seem to have begun to seek new directions from the kijaji. For the majority of them, the present system is far from ideal and as long as there remain unfinished tasks to pursue, the kijaji must continue to grip the minds of his followers in case a possibility arises in his lifetime for the dream of dreams. It is with this ideology in mind that the kijaji, the ulama and the community must remain as a coherent body and prepare themselves. Summary In this chapter structural and functional differences between the kijaji and the ulama were pointed out, and the mechanisms through which the kijaji practiced and preserved his charismatic influence before his community of followers were discussed. Many Indonesian specialists have paid attention to the enormously influential power of the kijaji but they seldom put any effort in analysing the basic cultural and religious systems according to which both the leaders and the followers have maintained their relationship. I hope this chapter has brightened these aspects of the kijaji and furthered our understanding of these important Islamic notables who have played significant socio-religious and political roles and who still seem to maintain potential for their leadership roles. === [PDF page 386] === CONCLUSION "Insofar as Java has in fact been part of the great Mecca-centered International world of Islam - and has been so only in part and to a degree - it has been the kijaji who has been the main connecting link, who has joined the local system to the larger whole. And it 1s upon his performance of this broker function that his enormous prestige and power in the countryside has rested" (Geertz 1960a: 230). In 1960, for the first time, Geertz (1960a) introduced into anthropological literature the Islamic kijaji (he used the term to refer to both the ulama and the kijaji, 1960b:134n) as mediating cultural brokers. He stated that the kijaji's power has rested on his performance of this broker function. Furthermore, he suggested that the politically inexperienced and unsophisticated kijaji has become increasingly unable to deal effectively with the new community-nation relationship. The ethnographic data from West Java as Illustrated in this dissertation contradict these statements. First of all, contrary to Geertz' expectations, Islamic scholars and functionaries in rural West Java seem to have withstood forces of change and have maintained their traditionally influential positions. Secondly, the reason why they have managed to do this in the new community-nation relationship is precisely because their authority has not rested upon their "mediator functions" in the first place. The new findings that the position of the ulama is deeply imbedded in the structure of the local community and that the Institution of the ulamate itself is monopolized by a limited few families have brought into a new light the nature of the ulamas' enduring positions in rural Islamic communities. Furthermore, the fact that the local Islamic communities led by the ulama are brought under a single and most influential charismatic kijaji, 374 === [PDF page 387] === 375 has revealed a much more coherent picture of a larger Islamic ummat than we had imagined previously. The patronage and "mediating" roles of these rural Islamic leaders have a l l derived from their concern to preserve a comprehensive Islamic community in contrast to the secular outside world of the national systems. Being in charge of transmitting Islamic orthodoxy over generations and advancing the Islamization processes, the ulama have had self-generating mechanisms through families, and moreover as a group of functionaries, they have had a network of relationships among themselves over a wider geographical t e r r i t o r y. In time and space, they are betterorganized than the impression we get at f i r s t glance indicates. In the remaining section of this concluding chapter, I w i l l discuss, in more general terms, the question of traditional leaders with respect to the process of rural-urban and community-nation integration, and then speculate upon the prospects of these Islamic leaders vis-a-vis both the community and the national systems. Theoretical Considerations This dissertation was concerned with the question of traditional leaders at times of change in a complex society where the local community no longer exists as an autonomous p o l i t i c a l entity. The survival of the Islamic i n s t i t u t i o n and the influential position of the ulama might imply that the community has not been much affected by change outside the community. Indeed, i f urbanization and industrialization are the two measurements of modernization, then a rural community such as Cipari cannot be called one that has "taken off" from the traditional past. The majority of Indonesian society is s t i l l agrarian and l i t t l e industrialization has taken place. Empirically, however, change has been generated both internally and externally affecting the local community in many ways and === [PDF page 388] === 376 particularly its relationship with the outside national systems. In Cipari, and elsewhere in the region, adult males are engaged in petty trade in the urban centers, and educational opportunities have greatly increased in recent years. Change in the nation's capital is directly felt by the local population. For our purposes, then, we may call such a society a It has long been recognized that in such a "transitional" society, the attitude of the traditional leaders toward change has a vital implication for the course of modernization and social change in the community itself. One of the questions with which I was concerned in this dissertation was the way the traditional leaders have dealt with modernizing forces from the outside and have attempted to preserve, at the same time, the local sociocultural system upon which their privileged positions have rested. Similarly this relates to the question of traditional leaders in competition with the national systems over the control of the local community. necessarily concerns the traditional leaders' perception of the impinging outside authorities and the way they manipulate these authorities in order to avoid direct confrontations while at the same time bargaining with them to secure their own positions and interests in the community. The existing literature on traditional leaders all seems unsatisfactory in dealing with these sensitive issues involving the inter-group interactions between the local leaders and the outside authorities, on the one hand, and the local leaders, the patrons, and the community on the other. Most literature, instead, deals with the question of traditional leaders in the face of social change and modernization from the perspective of their "predicament" and analyzes sociological factors involved in the decline of their traditional authority. For example, some of the factors === [PDF page 389] === 377 discussed by these writers as forces leading them into a decline are# 1) the loss of political and economic power as the result of i n c a s i n g integration of the local community into the complex national systems (Silverman 1965, Scott 1972); 2) their inability to deal with both the national and local systems (Geertz 1960a, Fallers 1955, and Apter 1967); and 3) the consequential loss of relevance of their roles in either or both the community and the national systems (Hammel 1969). As illuminating as they may be, these "predicament" studies of traditional leaders have lead us nowhere since most of them viewed these local leaders from the perspective of the national systems by labelling them as "mediators". Ever since Wolf (1956) formulated the concept as an approach to analyze change of group relationships in complex societies, however, agents of national systems, local landlords, and ecclesiastical religious leaders have all been lumped together simply because they have occupied linking positions between the local and national systems. Wolf was concerned with the diachronic change of group relationships between these "mediators" and the national systems, whereas the later anthropologists have applied the concept to the analysis of the process of sociocultural change in communities, thus calling these "mediators" simultaneously "cultural brokers" (Press 1969, Mandelbaum 1960, Loffler 1971, Maher 1961). The important question about the legitimacy of "mediator" roles and the fact that each of these "mediators" arid "cultural brokers" has drawn his leadership role and authority from a different socio-cultural construct of a given society have been largely ignored in these studies. The definition of their position vis-a-vis the national system or local community and where exactly their loyalty lies to secure their positions make a considerable === [PDF page 390] === 378 difference in not only the pattern of inter-group relations and interactions but also in the pattern and the process of socio-cultural change itself. Even the effects of the efforts of modernizing "cultural brokers" upon the actual change have been overestimated at the expense of other necessary factors contributing to the realization of change and modernization. Unlike the emerging "cultural brokers" and the superimposed arbitrary middlemen whose power comes from their recognition by the national systems, the position of traditional leaders has been institutionalized in the local community, and their positions have been deeply imbedded in the structure of the community. Whether they are landlord, village head, or religious functionary, these traditional leaders' decision-making authority on behalf of the community, and their ability to mobilize the villagers in support of their decisions, are contingent upon their followers' recognition of their status and roles as their leaders. This condition is required of all traditional leaders in the absence of backing by the national systems. Although it is unrealistic to reject totally the prospective decline of such traditional leaders as the communities are increasingly integrated into the national systems, it nevertheless leaves me with a question how the social structure and cultural construct of a given community influence the pattern of the traditional leaders' attempt to cope with and adapt to change. While such a "creative adaptation" approach by Bruner (1973) is much more instructive than the "predicament" approach, I have also felt that such creativity is conditioned by, rather than independent of, the local socio-cultural systems as well. In other words, only those ideologies and symbols that are shared by the community can be used by traditional leaders as effective means of evoking sentiment and loyalty from the constituent community, so as to assist their === [PDF page 391] === 379 adaptation process to changing community-nation relationships and the preservation of the local socio-cultural systems. In the case of Islamic villages in Java a successful traditional leader must demonstrate his ability to meet the expectations of the community and villagers with respect to their economic and social wellbeing as well as their religious goals. The ulamas' skilful manipulation of religious symbols and ideologies, for example, reflects their knowledge of this principle so that their authority can remain effective as long as the religion remains the villagers' vital concern, possibly even when their economic decline may enable them to guarantee the villagers' minimum survival. The necessity to keep villagers' loyalty to the ulama comes just as much out of their doctrinal concern over "church or state" as out of their concerns over their own positions and authority. It is from this perspective that we now examine the aspect of the kijaji and the ulama with regard to modernization. Insofar as the role of "mediating cultural brokers" involves the task of introducing elements of outside systems and generating change in the community, the rural Islamic scholars seem to serve such functions to some extent. Their clever manipulatonn of agents of national systems, their assistance to the villagers with business operations in the cities, and their attempts to modernize Islamic educational systems show signs of such efforts by the ulama. It is of significance to note, however, that they assume such broker functions only if it is beneficial to their purposes. As Wolf has pointed out (1956), Bailey has articulated (1969:167-176) and Silverman has demonstrated (1965), individuals in linking positions do not necessarily mediate between national and local systems. On the contrary, they often block channels of communication and forces of change and withhold === [PDF page 392] === 380 information in order to prevent the development of direct ties between the two ends, and avoid jeopardizing their own positions. This point has never been emphasized by the students of "cultural brokers and mediators". Geertz himself seems to have missed the point that it is selfdefeating for the ulama to effectively function as brokers. It is quite obvious to me that the kijaji whom Geertz described as being incompetent in the new community-nation integration was simply playing dumb, as I have seen the ulama do with the agents of national systems in order to outwit the agents and prevent undesirable influences from filtering into the communities. Traditional leaders like the ulama assume their mediating roles defensively and selectively. The ulamas'corporate attempt against Communism and secularization by maintaining a low profile during the past two decades is another example, transcending the goals that were of a purely religious nature. They must protect the local socio-cultural makeup which has served to maintain the loyalty and sentiment of the community for their own causes. In short, no traditional leaders' response and adaptation could be analyzed simply from the perspective of "mediating cultural brokers". To do so is only misleading and naive regarding the mechanism of group relationships in complex societies. The process of communities' integration involves subtle group relationships, overt competition and manipulative interactions between segments of the society. As complex societies are by nature characterized by the functional dependence of otherwise heterogeneous and segmented groups and segments upon the national systems, dysfunction of a socio-cultural system is bound to persist at some point of integration, regardless of intercultural systems (Fried! 1964). === [PDF page 393] === 381 Each segment of a society may remain with a set of distinct cultural orientations and discrete interests of their own unless otherwise disturbed by totalitarian political systems. Even when they all share basic national symbols and sentiment, the divisions within a complex society are likely to remain. Usually socio-cultural integration depends upon the spontaneous response from segments of the society even after political integration been achieved. has The agents of national systems likewise would not endeavor to generate cultural integration unless it were necessary to maintain their political dominance and national integration. The relationship between the national system and rural Islamic scholars involves such implicit competition and compromises in the process of community-nation Integration. B. Islamic Scholars and the Competing National Systems In general the continuity of traditional leaders in the process of change and integration seems to depend upon: 1) the structure and segmentation of the complex society and the traditional leaders' functional relationship with the community vis-a-vis the encompassing systems; 2) the nature of the change which has taken place or is taking place; 3) the kind of accessible strategic resources which can be mobilized for the purpose of defending their institutional niche, the recognition of authority and the preservation of the status-quo. The ethnographic data concerning the role of Islamic scholars in times of transition have illustrated how these three factors are crucial to the continuity and adaptation of the group to the forces of change. In this final section I will review the reasons for their survival in accordance with the above three propositions. 1) Should the authority and function of the Islamic scholars in West Java as patrons of communities have rested solely on their economic superiority and a community's dependency upon their land, or on political === [PDF page 394] === 382 recognition and sanctions by the state, or on their role as "cultural brokers", their authority and roles might have been directly affected by sociocultural changes. But the fact that: a) the ulama and the kijaji derive their authority as local leaders from their institutional functions as religious functionaries, theoretically though not totally independent of their economic functions or of security from political recrimination; b) the community relates to a single or unified group of local leaders (often a single family) rather than to an aggregate of several patrons, each engaging in dyadic relationships with only specific members of the community; c) the community and the ulama have shared collective values, aims and priorities, externally distinguishing them from secular systems, and internally governing their behavior and life in the communities. As a consequence, the relationship between the ulama and the community is fairly stable, perdurable, and inseparable, each depending upon the other. The religion, in this case, has provided the most powerful forms of ideologies and sentiment useful for the leaders to manipulate in order to unify otherwise segmented members of the society. 2) There have been both economic and political forces of change among the Islamic scholars in recent years. Their adaptation to these changes has by no means been easy, but both kinds of change have, nevertheless, worked favorably to perpetuate the role of the traditional leaders. As a result of land fragmentation and the ever-increasing effects of a cash economy, both the group and the community have lost much of their land to absentee landowners. As landless peasants have begun to seek economic opportunities at urban centers as petty traders and seasonal migrants, leaving their families behind in villages, the ulama have added a new role as caretakers of the families. The group has also invested capital in the === [PDF page 395] === 383 new petty traders starting out businesses. Politically, instability in the national politics and government has prompted various local segmented groups to come together under the single leadership of the kijaji to defend their interests in the status-quo. At the same time, the ulama and the kijaji have not been indifferent to the technological and material advancement which have characterized the urban "modernity". In fact their functions as cultural brokers introducing advanced cultural items into communities, and generating change locally, have made them even more indispensable to the society undergoing a slow transition. New agricultural techniques, fertilizers, and seeds have been accepted in communities after the ulama and the kijaji have tested them and produced a good result. They have also been instrumental in instituting a new and more advanced type of educational system, otherwise inaccessible to the peasants' children. They also send delegates to the village council meetings to represent and pursue the community's interests. The fact that the encompassing system, which has had a considerable difficulty in stabilizing the national politics and government, has had to rely on the mediators to maintain peace and order in the countryside and have failed to penetrate into rural communities, and the fact that many of the modernizing programs have been carried out by these Islamic leaders have elevated the status and power of the traditional leaders. The national system now fully recognizes the Islamic group as its political protege. 3) The Islamic scholars have successfully remained as indispensable local leaders, unifying communities and segmented groups, and generating changes in the community because they have had various strategic resources at their disposal: a) an extensive social network between the ulama under the leadership of the kijaji which has enabled them to exchange ideas as === [PDF page 396] === 384 well as information regarding the operations of the national systems, and to coordinate their actions if necessary; b) local human and financial resources necessary for the realization of modernizing changes; and c) the political recognition by and alliance with the present military regime and with the local rich elite against the extreme secularists. The Islamic scholars' economic decline and their withdrawal in recent years from the national political scene have not undermined their power and authority, nor have they hampered their socio-religious roles. Probably the most fundamental key to our understanding of the perdurable nature of the Islamic scholars' and functionaries' authority lies in their function and position vis-a-vis the religion and the Muslem followers. The Islamic functionaries have mediated for Muslem followers in every dimension of their religious life; between doctrine and practice, between the Divine and the Muslem followers, and between the center of Islamic civilization and the parochial locality. The religious adherence generates a corporate sense of the ummat, the moral community, which upholds moral authority as the only coherent form of leadership. It is the ulamas' religious duty to organize the community and guide the Muslem followers at time of crisis, particularly against the secular national systems. The Muslem villagers tend to avoid offending the ulama in fear of the Divine retribution, while cooperation with them is believed to guarantee religious merits in return. At present, the ulamas' relationship with both the local community and the national system seems apparently stable but in reality their position is resting upon a critical balance between the two sectors. The present relationship with the military government is ambiguous to say the least. The Islamic scholars are constrained from articulating criticisms and overt antagonism against the regime in power, while at the same time they are === [PDF page 397] === 385 forced to give nominal endorsement to the government policies, regardless of the schism and deep-seated conflict of interests with the secular national systems. The villagers, on the other hand, characteristically demand that the patrons perform skillfully as their capable, morally superior and decisive leaders. It is a critical criterion of successful leaders since their authority derives from the trust and confidence of the fellow Muslem followers. The village ulama today must acquire knowledge of the administrative organs of the state system, cultivate access to channels of communication with them, and develop skills to maneuver officials in order to keep them at arm's length. An outcome of a problem in relation to the outside system is critically judged by the community in reference to both the moral codes and the expected image held by the community. They must carefully plan strategies and execute the plan meticulously. In the long run, however, the ulama and the kijaji face a difficult test: can their authority stand against further forces of change? A change may originate from within the community, when materialism and secularism outvalue the moral, spiritual and religious systems. They are in a position to vigorously check such influences filtering into the community, but they are not so naive as to believe that this alone is sufficient to prevent secularization among the Muslem followers. Their activities to generate modernizing change in the local community can be seen as their attempt to balance the spiritual life of the community with technological and material modernity, just as they introduce a modernized school system and intellectualism into Islamic education. An even greater challenge to their status-quo may emerge from outside the community when the threat of Communism is removed from national security === [PDF page 398] === 386 concerns. When tnis takes place, the effects are expected to be twofold: First, the government will no longer rely upon the traditional leaders for local security, and the presently recognized authority of the ulama and the kijaji may decline considerably. Second, the prevailing appearance of the political stability and social security as well as the absence of immediate danger will decrease the sense of urgency and crisis among the population, decreasing simultaneously the political area of traditional leaders who have best exercised their leadership roles during the recent political instability and turmoil. This process seems already underway. Almost a decade of relative political stability in the government, and the attempt to depoliticize the previously politicized peasantry, and simplify the national party system in order to eliminate divisive elements from the society seems to have succeeded in turning away peasants' attention from the need to organize a collective defense in favor of individual pursuit in family and business. Individualism, in turn, tends to decrease a sense of a corporate community. All of these recent developments at least temporarily seem to have deprived the kijaji and the ulama of the immediate power which they enjoyed during the glamorous social movement in the past. But at the same time, they have already taken some measures. For the first time in decades, they have begun to renovate Islamic programs, reactivate the communities, and actively restore religious institutions which have long been neglected. They put major emphasis upon upgrading the Islamic communities from the traditional past, and to enable them to undergo transition and change. The government follows suit to strengthen the resistance among the population against the return of Communism in the countryside. === [PDF page 399] === 387 The form and mechanism through which traditional leaders attempt to preserve their status-quo differ from one type of a group to another and can be understood only in the specific context of each group in relation to the rest of the complex society. An analysis through group relationships and intricate interactions between segments of the society seems to be a productive approach to comprehend both structural and dynamic processes of community-nation integration and change in the community. === [PDF page 400] === REFERENCES CITED Abdullah, Taufih 1966 Adat and Islam: an examination of conflict in Mirangkabau. Indonesia 2:1-24. 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Daedalus, Winter 1973, Post-Traditional Societies: 139-168. === [PDF page 406] === 39u, Curriculum Vitae Name Hiroko Horikoshi Roe Sex Female Present Address Department of Anthropology DH-05 University of Washington Seattle, Washington 98195 Permanent Address Captain's Gate Townhouse, #8 North East, Maryland 21901 Marital Status Married with no children Spouse's Occupation Assistant Professor Department of Anthropology University of Delaware Place and date of birth Yokohama, Japan, April 13, 1944 Education Ph.D. Expected from Department of Anthropology, University of Illinois, June 1976 Department of Anthropology, University of Illinois, Champaign, Illinois, June 1972 Department of Social Science, Division of Sociology and Anthropology, International Christian University, Tokyo, Japan, flarch 1968 Specialty Modernization, Social Change, Ethnicity, Religion, Political, Economic and Legal Anthropology Area of Specialization Southeast Asia, with special emphasis upon Indonesia and Theravada Buddhist countries, Far East (Japan and China), Asian subcontinent, India, and Oceania Research Experience Ethnographic research, Fall 1967, Nagano Prefecture, Japan among the Fujiwara Makj: focused upon the relationship between the Dozoku social structure and politico-religious and economic power competition in two villages. Data gathered nrovided basis for a B.A. thesis. === [PDF page 407] === 39£ Ethnographic research, Summer 1970, Bandung, West Java, Indonesia; focused upon the ethnic attitude and relationship among the residents of a Sundanese city of West Java. Data gathered provided basis for an M.A. thesis and contributed to a joint project on "Ethnic Relations in a Medium-sized City of Bandung, Indonesia" with Dr. Edv/ard M. Bruner of University of Illinois and Drs. Harsoyo of University of Pajajaran. Ethnographic research, from September 1972 through August 1973 among the Sundanese of Garut, West Java, Indonesia; focused upon the Islamic leadership in a village in Indonesia. Data provided basis for a Ph.D. thesis, and two publications in progress. Language Training Japanese Native language, excellent writing, reading and speaking skill English Eighteen-year training with seven years of living experience in the United States, excellent proficiency Indonesian Three years of graduate training plus fifteen months living experience in Indonesia, excellent writing, reading, and speaking skill Sundanese An ethnic language in West Java, one year intensive study and living experience, fair speaking skill French Two years of underaraduate training, fair reading skill Teaching Experience English Between 1964 and 1968 at seven different places including three YMCA in both Yokohama and Tokyo, one private firm in Tokyo, and three groups Anthropology Acting Assistant Professor, University of Washington at present since September 1975. Currently teaching Introduction to Cultural Anthropology, Oceania, Anthropology of Law, and Law in Changing Societies Teaching Assistant to American Communities, Department of Anthropology, University of Illinois, January through June 1975 Teaching Assistant to Introduction to Anthropology, Department of Anthropology, University of Illinois, September 1971-June 1972 === [PDF page 408] === 396 Fellowships and Research Grants 1972-73 Ethel Barber Endowed International Fellowship of American Association of University Women 1972-73 National Science Foundation Research Grant 1972-73 Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research 1971-72 Kathryn M. Pave Fellowship of American Association of University Women 1969-70 Fellowship, P.E.O. International Peace Scholarship Fund 1968-72 Fulbright Travel Grant, Institute of International Education Publications and Papers Dozoku Structure: a study of religion and social organization in rural Japan, a B.A. thesis submitted to International Christian University, Tokyo, 1968 The Changing Ethnic Attitude in the Indonesian City of Bandung, an M.A. thesis submitted to the University of Illinois, June 1972 The Changing Ethnic Relationship in a Sundanese City of Bandung, a paper submitted to Seadag (Southeast Asian Advisory Group), August 1971 The Dar Ul-Islam Movement in West Java (1948-1962): An experience in the historical process, Indonesia 20, October 1975, Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, Cornell University A Traditional Mediator in a Time of Change: The Kiai and Ulama in West Java, a Ph.D. thesis to be deposited in June 1976, University of Illinois Islam, Adat and Social Change, a paper in progress References Dr. Edward M. Bruner Dr. Lawrence Crissman Dr. Robert C. Dunnell Department of Anthropology 109 Davenport Hall University of Illinois Urbana, Illinois 61801 Chairman Department of Anthropology University of ''lashington Seattle, Washington 98195 DH-05