The Crescent Arises over the Banyan Tree: A Study of the Muhammadijah Movement in a Central Javanese Town

=== [PDF page 1] === NAKAMURA. M its u o, 1 9 3 3 - THE CRESCENT ARISES OVER THE BANYAN TREE: A STUDY OF THE MUHAMMADUAH MOVEMENT IN A CENTRAL JAVANESE TOWN. C o r n e l l U n i v e r s i t y, P h. D., 1976 R e l i g i o n, g e n e ra l Xerox University M icrofilms, Ann Arbor, M ichigan 48106 0 MITSUO N A K A M U R A 1976 PLEASE NOTE: The negative m icrofilm copy of this dissertation was prepared and inspected by the school granting the degree. We are using this film without further inspection or change. If there are any qu estion s about the film content, please write d irectly to the school. UNIVERSITY MICROFILMS === [PDF page 2] === [Blank page] === [PDF page 3] === [Blank page] === [PDF page 4] === THE CRESCENT ARISES OVER THE BANYAN TREE; A STUDY OF THE MUHAM'IADIJAH MOVEMENT IN A CENTRAL JAVANESE TOWN A Thesis Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of Cornell University for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy Mitsuo Nakamura September 1976 === [PDF page 5] === BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH Mitsuo Nakamura was b o m of a devout Christian family on October 19, 1 9 3 3, in Northeastern China (Manchuria). His primary and part of his secondary education were acquired in Japanese public schools in Manchuria. In 1947 he left Manchuria for his never-before-seen mother country, Japan. He continued his secondary and tertiary education in Tokyo, obtaining a Bachelor's degree in Western philosophy from the University of Tokyo in i9 6 0. He was also active in leftist student politics for more than ten years between the early fifties and the early sixties. In 1 9 6 3 he left politics with the determination to become a profes sional anthropologist and earned a Master's degree in cultural anthropol ogy from the University of Tokyo in 1 9 6 $. In the same year he was awarded a Fulbright grant for graduate study in the United States. After a oneyear stay at Syracuse University, he transferred to Cornell University in 1966 where he has since pursued graduate work in anthropology and Asian studies, receiving a Master's degree in 1970. In 1 9 7 0 -1 9 7 2 he engaged in two years of doctoral dissertation research in Indonesia and Holland. He is a member of the American Anthropological Association and the Australian Anthropological Society. He taught as Senior Teaching Fellow at the Department of Anthropology, the University of Adelaide, South Australia, in 197^-1975* He is presently joining the Social Science Research Training Program, in Jakarta, Indonesia, as Research Associate. With his wife, Hisako, he has three children, Yuko (daughter). Taro and Jiro (sons). === [PDF page 6] === "Religion is sociologically interesting not because, as vulgar positivism would have it, it describes the social order (which, insofar as it does, it does not only very obliquely but very incompletely), but because, like environment, political power, wealth, jural obligation, personal affection, and a sense of beauty, it shapes it." Geertz (1966:35-36). "The vain task of trying to find out in what precise way certain symbols found in the ritual, poetry, or iconography of a given society 'reflect' or 'express' its social or political structure can then be abandoned. Symbols may well reflect not structure, but anti structure, and not only reflect it but contribute to creating it." Turner (197^:270). === [PDF page 7] === PREFACE "One of the nice things about studying. Indonesia is that order and chaos look so very much alike." Clifford Geertz (1972:65). This is a case study of ongoing Islamization in urban south Central Java. From October 1970 to April 1972, I engaged in nineteen months of field work in Kotagede, a local town of about 15,000 people, located six kilometers to the southeast of the city of Jogjakarta, the capital of the Special Region of Jogjakarta (see Map l). The field work was followed by two and one-half months of library research in the Nether lands for collecting archival sources on the history of the town. This study of contemporary religious change in Kotagede originally formed only part of a much broader field research project aimed at a general ethnography of traditional Javanese urbanism. However, at mid way during my field stay in the town, I experienced a marked shift of research interest and thereafter the focus of the study shifted from urbanism to the process of modern Islamic transformation in the town, f^y dissertation is an attempt to document and account for the process of Islamization observed in the setting of a local urban community in south Central Java and its implications for social, cultural, economic and political changes occurring in the community since the turn of the century. Such a shift of focus is not unusual in anthropological field research. Contingent field situations, inadequately formulated === [PDF page 8] === Map 1. Java, Jogjakarta and Kotagede SfêfCpt PrOnvb«ASA Adapted from Selosoemardjan (l962:ii). === [PDF page 9] === hypotheses, deficient research tools, and many other factors often force field anthropologists to modify radically or even abandon completely their original research projects. In my case, however, the shift of emphasis was not so much caused by external difficulties although these were sometimes considerable indeed. It came rather as a result of a gradual but increasing realization that there had been something grossly wrong in my earlier conceptualization of "what the life in a local Javanese town is like." Specifically, my pre-field conception about Javanese Islam was extremely different from what I later learned about it through my field experience. Starting with this point my entire research perspective slowly but decidedly changed. My pre-field idea about Javanese Islam may be summarized as follows: Islam is a losing religion in contempo rary Java; in spite of their numerical superiority, Javanese Muslims remain politically weak, economically stagnant, ideologically conserva tive, and culturally dull. I thought that Islam would become relevant to my field research only insofar as the santri (devout Muslims) came into my observation as a segment of the local populace under study; otherwise Islam would remain peripheral to my research. My field experience, however, made me formulate quite a different idea about Javanese Islam, the idea which will be elaborated in the following pages as the thesis of this dissertation. Here it may suffice to say that my thesis intends to make the following points: that Islam in Java is by no means a waning religion, but a vital living faith; that Islamization of Java is not a finished historical event in the past but a still ongoing, recurring process in the present; that the socalled reformist Muslim movement is a modern manifestation of this === [PDF page 10] === Vil continuing proselytization; that this prosel^ic Islam is vastly trans forming Javanese religious traditions; and that the impact of modern Islamic transformation is not confined to the field of religious change hut is more generally relevant to changes occurring in social, cultural, economic and political aspects of contemporary Javanese life. My thesis also contends that as a matter of approach Islam should not be isolated as the religious outlook of a particular social group but should rather be treated as a pervasive and essential element which concerns the entire population, albeit in varying degrees and modes. Basic to my contention is the observation that implications of Islamic categorizations and values are so significant for changes in nonreligious aspects of Javanese life that a proper understanding of the former is indispensable for the latter. However, I am not attempting here a causal explanation of social changes in Java solely in terms of the impact of Islam. Such an explanation would certainly be an exercise in idealist reductionism. Social change is obviously a more complicated process, and this is especially true for a complex society like Java. What I am suggesting is that Islam is an extremely rich religious resource from which individuals are able to derive motivational drives for changes; intellectual frames of reference to articulate the meaning of altered states of their social existence; and perceptions of the transcendental and ultimate order of the universe in terms of which changing social orders are meaningfully interpreted. In short, Islam has provided an enduring reference point of spiritual order amidst the persistent chaos of everyday life. === [PDF page 11] === V I 11 Here we come to the theme of chaos versus order in the modern social history of Java. As quoted at the beginning of this preface, Clifford Geertz has characterized the process of politico-religious integration of modern Javanese (Indonesian) society in terms of the ambiguity of chaos and order. When I read his remarks soon after I returned from the field, I felt very much enlightened in that his formulation most closely expressed my field experience. I felt at odds, however, with the joyful tone of his statement. It may be a 'nice thing' for a scholar of Geertz's stature to entertain the ambiguity of chaos and order as an intellectual challenge. But for a novice in anthropology and Javanese studies like myself, the experience of having been thrown into the midst of this ambiguity was one of the most bewildering personal experiences I ever had. It was existentially threatening as well as intellectually uncomfortable. In fact, most of my time in the field, especially the first half of it, was spent just maintaining the physical and social survival of my family and myself in an environment of extremely limited material resources, unstable and unpredictable interpersonal relations, and the overwhelming pressures of the political order (cf. Appendix II). My bewilderment and frustration were somewhat relieved, however, as I gradually came to realize in the course of my struggle for survival that my Javanese neighbors were no less bewildered by the ambiguity and no less fmistrated by material hardships than I, and that what I was experiencing was, after all, only a minor and temporary reflection of their life-long or even generations-long experience. Furthermore, to my astonishment, I found among my neighbors a considerable number of === [PDF page 12] === individuals who were less bewildered and less frustrated than the rest of us. They were withstanding economic hardships, personal insecurity, and political instability with a remarkable measure of self-confidence and perseverance, and they were the ones who took Islam most seriously in the to^ra. For them, it seemed to me, Islam stood as a Weltweisheit and ethical guide with which to endure the bewildering everyday experi ence of chaos and order. Thus my awakening to the significance of Islam in Javanese reality came through quite a personal experience. The fact that I came to think seriously about Islam through personal experience and not by reading books or as a result of analytical thinking prior to my field work created both advantages and disadvantages for the subsequent development of my field research. First of all, on the disadvantageous side, I was ill-prepared to undertake field research about religion in general and about Islam in particular. My reading of the literature in the anthropoldgy of religion prior to the field trip was limited. My knowledge of Islam was even less substantial. General works by Wertheim, Benda, Geertz and monographs by Jay, Castles and . Siegel made up almost the entire list of my readings on Indonesian Islam, and the works of Gibb and von Grunebaum for the rest of the Islamic world. Yet my relative ignorance about Islam functioned rather positively in the field. Out of ignorance, I was forced to learn directly about the Islamic faith and practice as they were actually conceived and per formed by my Javanese neighbors without being prejudiced by prior know ledge of the doctrinaire standards. Consequently, with not much con scious endeavor, I was able to avoid the common pitfall for the student === [PDF page 13] === of world religions like Islam, who is tempted to compare actual belief ^ d practice with the idealized forms derived from the theological liter ature. Instead, I was led to the study of the religious texts only as far as I felt needs and interests arising from within the context of my field study, but not vice versa. On the other hand, my lack of detailed knowledge about Islam in general and especially its historical development in Java imposed some limitations on my perspective and perceptivity in the field. Among other things, my pre-field ignorance of Dutch scholarship on Javanese Islam often made me overlook many significant clues which might have led to more fruitful ethnographic explorations in the field. Especially critical was my sheer ignorance of the extensive work of Dutch scholars explicating the traditional Javanese literature on Islam. Because of this limitation, in dealing with the development of Islamic ideology- ■ my study has had to start rather abruptly with its modern period, i.e., around the turn of the century, a defect which has been shared by most of the post-war U. S. scholarship on Indonesian Islam. -ta‘-‘-on on the scope of my study was geographic. In spite of abundant indications in literature that the mode and process of Islamization of Java, even within the ethnic Javanese area alone, have been extremely diversified in different regions, I have been unable to provide myself with a balanced overview of the diversity in which the case of Kotagede can be properly located. Therefore, while I am fully aware that my findings in Kotagede must be parochial, I have at the moment no measure to evaluate how parochial they are. === [PDF page 14] === In. spite of all these defects and limitations, I have little hesi tation about presenting my work to the academic audience for discussion. For I feel these defects and limitations are not merely personal short comings but are, to some extent, a reflection of the current state of affairs among the U. S. students of Indonesia.^ Since my field experi ence forced me to realize how ignorant and prejudiced I was about Java nese Islam, I am all the more prompted by the feeling of academic obligation to deliver my observations to the scientific public. As is already apparent from the above, I do not claim that my present work is any more than a brief historical and ethnographic report on Islamic development in a certain locality in Java. Grand theorization has been therefore out of consideration from the outset. In fact, my field experience has made me extremely skeptical of previous attempts at theorizing on the subject. I have often observed that a combination of superficial ethnography and premature theorization does more harm than good; the combination is especially harmful in that it hinders the successors from acquiring substantive knowledge anew. Since, however, I am not prepared in this work to replace what I conceive of as in adequate theories with more adequate ones, I have deliberately restrained myself from any explicit theorization at all. I have simply tried to produce a 'straight ethnography' instead. ^ o r e than a decade ago, the late Harry Benda mentioned these short comings in.his review of Clifford Geertz's The Religion of Java (Benda 1962:U03-Uo 6). A number of works on Indonesian Islam have since appeared. But I believe that Benda's critical assessment of the state of the art still stands at the present. Although I was not a direct student of his, my intellectual debt to him must be apparent from the title of my disser tation. === [PDF page 15] === However, I am also aware of the truth of the maxim that no histori cal description can he made without having at least an implicit inter pretation and evaluation of events, nor is any ethnography possible without implying a measure of theoretical assumptions. Therefore, it may be necessary for me to make clear what kind of theoretical assump tions underly my work. At the present stage of my intellectual development, it is much easier for me to state my theoretical standpoint in the form of some anti-theses rather than in the form of positive statements. First of all, I object to looking at Javanese Islam solely in terms of its social functions, e.g., its role in economic development or political integra tion. I also object to regarding religious categorizations as markers for social groupings. I regard most previous studies on Javanese Islam to have been too concerned with these secondary aspects of the religion whereas our understanding of the content of the religious thoughts and actions has remained largely underdeveloped. I think I can resort to a quotation from Max Weber, one of the founding fathers of the modern sociology of religion, for support here; It is not our thesis that the specific nature of a religion is a simple 'function' of the social situation of the stratum which appears as its characteristic bearer or that it represents the stratum's 'ideology', or that it is a 'reflection* of a stratum's material or ideal interest situation.... However incisive the social influences, economically and politically deter mined, may have been upon a religious ethic in a particular case, it receives its stamp primarily from religious sources, and, first of all, from the content of its annunciation and its promise.... For every religion we shall find that a change in the socially decisive strata has usually been of profound importance. === [PDF page 16] === XIXX On the other hand, the type of a religion, once stamped, has usually exerted a rather far-reaching influence upon the life conduct of very heterogeneous strata. (Weher 1 9 U6 [19151:269-270) I am of the opinion that in order to enhance our substantive know ledge of Javanese Islam and its social implications, our primary atten tion must be focused upon its specifically religious resources; other wise, sociological conceptulizations and explanations alone will soon be worn out by situational changes. [Unreadable] In acknowledging the contributions of others to my work, I should like to mention, first of all, the help rendered by the townspeople of Kotagede. I am especially grateful for the open-minded cooperation of the local leadership of Muhammadijah and many of its rank-and-file members. My particular appreciation goes to the four college students, all natives of the town, who worked with me as research assistants for many months. Their names are Muhadjir Darwin, Effa Djumairy, Dahrowy Hasjim, and Wahzary Wardojo. They worked with genuine enthusiasm for studying their own home town. They literally became my eyes, ears, and hands. Their assistance was more than technically helpful for it was largely thanks to my intimate, everyday encounter with them and my direct observation of their conduct, through which I became so impressed by their intelligence, disciplined work habits, deep ethical concern and sincere religious devotion that I eventually came to think seriously about the significance of Islam. === [PDF page 17] === XIV I should also like to acknowledge the help of the Indonesian government authorities, national, regional, and local, and military as well as civilian, who allowed me to undertake field work. On the home front, many individuals and institutions have helped in my academic upbringing. James T. Siegel, Chairman of my graduate committee at Cornell, has been instrumental in helping to shape my graduate studies in anthropology and Southeast Asia. During the field work and subsequent write-up period, his suggestions have often inspired me while allowing me a maximum of freedom and independence in organizing my own ideas. Robert J. Smith, another committee member, has always been a sympathetic but critical reviewer, a tireless editor of my work, and an ideal academic and personal advisor for a cross-cultural vagabond like me. Oliver W. Wolters, a third member in my committee, has generously tolerated my amateurish rambling into the discipline of history. His unwearying curiosity for the unexplored has encouraged me to challenge some conventional assumptions concerning modern Indonesian history. Three other professors, Lauriston Sharp, Milton L. Barnett, and Benedict R. O'G. Anderson, have been members of my committee at different times. Lauriston Sharp, who first introduced me to Southeast Asian studies at Cornell, was not available for the last stage of my disserta tion writing and was replaced by Barnett. Anderson, whose writings are a model for any serious student of Javanese culture, also joined my committee at the latest stage to meet an administrative requirement. His careful reading of my dissertation draft has spared me many primitive errors and mistakes. His suggestions have also been helpful in improving === [PDF page 18] === the overall organization of my dissertation and in clarifying my ideas. All three professors have generously aided me, and I express my sincere appreciation for their help. Outside my committee, many teachers and friends have helped my graduate education at Cornell. I would like to single out George McT. Kahin whose Indonesian seminar exposed me to major problem areas in the study of contemporary Indonesia. Outside the classroom, he has warmly watched over my rather slow academic progress and has often willingly extended help when I was in difficult personal situations. Let me take this opportunity to thank him for my very pleasant, stimulating and helpful association with him, the progenitor of post-war Indonesian studies in the U. S. I fear, however, I have been more a rebellious critic of his achievements and less his faithful disciple and I ask his forgiveness towards this anak nakal ('naughty child'). Institutionally, the Fulbright Program, Yale Language Institute, Cornell Southeast Program and Departments of Asian Studies and Anthro pology have helped sustain my academic progress and my family's living in various ways and for varied periods over the past eight long years. My field work in Indonesia was supported by a grant (field studentship) from the London-Cornell Project and my research stay in the Netherlands by a grant from her Ministry of Education and Science. For the write-up period, grants from the Cornell Research Grants Committee and the Center for International Studies covered part of my research expenses. Let me express my deep gratitude to these institutions and especially to those individuals who were directly involved in making the decisions enabling me to get this assistance. === [PDF page 19] === XVI Finally, I should like to acknowledge the help of my family members. K^y wife Hisako has sacrificed her own desire and plans for graduate work in anthropology in order to push me through first. In the field, her contribution was invaluable. She was chiefly responsible for maintaining our household as a viable social and physical unit in a quite alien environment. Intellectually, through her own research project on the marital relationships of Javanese Muslims, she often supplied me per ceptive insights into the relationships between the sexes seen from the female viewpoint, which was difficult to discern from the male counter part. Emotionally, she shared with me fear, anxiety, relief, and joy through the entire course of our field stay. It would be hypocritical if I said that we had had a very pleasant time together in the field, but I think Hisako will agree when I say that we had a very meaningful experience together, one which has made us more thoughtful than before about humanity and about ourselves. Now that my graduate work is over, I hope Hisako will soon be able to get back to her own academic pursuits and I assure her my wholehearted cooperation and support in her efforts in this direction. Our three children, Yuko, Taro, and Jiro, also contributed to my field work in their own ways. They helped widen my contacts and acquaint ances with the townspeople, which would have been difficult for a mar ried but childless couple or single field worker. Especially Jiro, who was born in the field and was accepted as anak Kotagede ('Kotagede child') by the townspeople, helped us to establish close emotional ties with them. In concluding my acknowledgements, I cannot help feeling that the === [PDF page 20] === XVI1 present work is too lAodest an achievement to repay the debts I owe to others or to live up to their expectations. I only beg them to under stand that I tiave tried my best, and I only hope that I will be able to do better in the future. NOTE ON PROPER NAMES Place names in this work are all real. The uniqueness of the re search site has precluded the use of fictitious names. Personal names on the other hand are sometimes real, but pseudonyms are also often used. In making the selection, I have employed the following criteria: historical personalities, holders of public offices, and individuals of public recognition have mostly been quoted without changing their names; names of those individuals who informed me of sensitive subjects, who were, are, and may be involved in serious political or personal con flicts, and who wanted me to hide their identities have been given pseudonyms or quoted anonymously. NOTE ON FOREIGN WORDS For Indonesian words, the old official spelling has been retained in this study (cf. Echols and Shadily 1963: xiii-xiv). This is not because I have any particular opinion against the new official spelling system (ejaan baru) but simply because I have had to maintain ortho graphic consistency with the spelling of Javanese words, for which I have followed Pigeaud (1938) with the exception that oe is replaced by u. === [PDF page 21] === XVIIX As for words of Arabic origin, I have employed Javanized or Indonesianized forms (e.g., ummat rather than vumnah). Indonesian and Javanese nouns have no suffix for. plurals. Plurals are simply implied by the context or can be specified by repeating the same word or adding a plural specifier. In this work, I have made no indications (absence or presence of an s) when employing Indonesian and Javanese nouns. The singular/plural distinction depends on the con jugation or on the context. A glossary of frequently used foreign words has been appended at the end of this work. [Unreadable] I should like to add here my acknowledgement to the individuals who were involved directly in the final production of my dissertation as it is by listing their names: Willa Appel, Bob Love, Joyce Nakahara, Bernice DeYoung in Ithaca, New York; and Jacki Gray, Bev Jones, Judy Gill, Judy Herman in Adelaide, South Australia. === [PDF page 22] === TABLE OF CONTENTS I. INTRODUCTION: ISLAMIZATION OF JAVA 1 II. SOCIETY AND RELIGION IN TRADITIONALKOTAGEDE: CONTINUITY AND CHANGE 2k III. THE DEVELOPMENT OF MUHAMMADI JAH: LOCAL INITIATIVES AND OUTSIDE STIMULI 97 IV. THE SOCIOLOGY OF UMMAT ISLAM: STRUCTURE AND ANTI-STRUCTURE 194 V. THE IDEOLOGY OF MUHAMMADIJAH: TRADITION AND TRANSFORMATION 26k VI. CONCLUSION: RE-ISLAMIZATION OF JAVA 317 APPENDIX 322 BIBLIOGRAPHY 329 GLOSSARY 344 XIX === [PDF page 23] === LIST OF TABLES II-l. Distribution of Hadji and Kijaji in Java 28 II-2. Distribution of Hadji and Kijaji in Central Java 29 II-3. Economic Specialization in Kotagede (1903) 62 II-4. Batik Workshops and Workers in Jogjakarta (1920-1924) 82 II-5. Economic Specialization in Kotagede (1922) 84-85 III-l, Muhammadijah and Aisjijah Membership in 1923 132 IV-1. Comparison of Occupational Composition of House-Compound Holders in 1922 and Household Heads in 1971 210 IV-2. Silverware Industry in Kotagede (1935-1968) 2l4 IV-3. Distribution of Muhammadijah Members in Kotagede Kota 230 IV-4. Age Distribution of Muhammadijah Members 231 IV-5. Terminal Education of Muhammadijah Members and Kotagede Adults 232 IV-6. Years of Affiliation with Muhammadijah 233 IV-7. Occupational Composition of Muhammadij ah Members and Household Heads in Kotagede (l97l) 235 IV-8. Ratio of Entrepreneurs and Non-entrepreneurs in Muhammadi jah up to 1954 and after 1955 240 IV-9. Descendants of Hadji Mukmin by Occupation 242 === [PDF page 24] === LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS III-l. Genealogy of Muhammadijah Founders in Kotagede l40 Map 1. Java, Jogjakarta and Kotagede v 2. Kotagede 31-32 3. Kotagede; Kota vs. Desa 34 XXI === [PDF page 25] === CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION; ISLAMIZATION OF JAVA "Who is to he called the victor in the battle between the animism of the simple country people and monothe istic Islam? And did Hindu-Javanism or Islam really triumph in the court circle? It would not be easy to give a completely satisfactory answer to this question.... It was Javanese genius, the 'agama Jawa’ [Javanese religion], after all, which, until a short time ago, was the real victor, as an uncritical unity of contraries." Berg (l932;254f). The Islamization of Java, especially its early history, has been a subject cherished by generations of Indonesian specialists. Ramified arguments and counterarguments have developed among scholars concerned with such questions as when, where and how the Javanese population started to accept Islam as their professed religion and who played what role in the historical process. In spite of considerable scholarly efforts so far devoted to answering these questions, compre hensive, definitive work has yet to appear (cf. Berg 1955, and Drewes 1 9 6 8 ). Although I have no intention of becoming directly involved in these arguments, my field observation in Kotagede and some inquiries into its local history have led me to review critically some of the premises of previous studies on the historical Islamization of Java. In the following pages, therefore, my views on the subject are pre sented in the context of a discussion of the local history of Kotagede. My primary concern is the study of the current state of Islam and its immediate past in the community which I studied. I have approached the subject as a process, i.e., as something going on. By "ongoing === [PDF page 26] === Islamization" I mean a process in which substantial numbers of Javanese Muslims denounce the prevailing religious situation as degenerate and as a corrective measure strive to live up to what they conceive of as the standard of orthodox teachings of Islam. The process is a selfconscious re-Islamization of Javanese Muslims. What is emphasized is not only the necessity to conform to ritual orthodoxy but also the genuine devotion to fulfilling the moral obligations imposed upon Muslims. This kind of moral upsurge and aspiration for a restoration of orthodoxy has been expressed ^in various religious movements since the turn of the century. Among them the largest and most influential has been the Muhammadijah^ movement, first organized in 1912 in the city of Jogjakarta. By the end of the 1920’s, there were branches in almost all major cities and towns in Java. Since the late 1920’s, the move ment has spread into various parts of the outer islands of the Nether lands East Indies. Within a quarter of a century after its foundation, the Muhammadijah had become the largest national religious organization in Indonesia under the Dutch colonial rule. In 1938, statistics showed that the movement had 852 branches and 898 groups with approximately 2 5 0,0 0 0 followers all over the Archipelago (Noer 1973:83). Being one of the largest Islamic organizations in modern Indonesia, the Muhammadijah has been the subject of many studies by Indonesian as well as foreign observers, most of whom have seen the movement as ^Literally means in Arabic, 'the followers of the Prophet Muhammad.’ ^Scholarly works in English on the Muhammadijah movement in particu lar and the reformist Muslim movements in Indonesia in general are numerous. Only booklength works, theses, and monographs have been === [PDF page 27] === representative of 'modernist' or 'reformist' trends among Indonesian Muslims. These labels may be justifiable to the extent that the move ment has received stimuli from what is called 'Islamic Reform' in the Middle East since the early decades of this century and insofar as it is a 'modern' phenomenon in Indonesian society. One can even find some parallels in the movement with the Reformation of Christianity in the early modern history of the West. However, I am not inclined to employ these labels for the overall characterization of the movement inasmuch as they tend to over-eraphasize outside stimuli, theoretical borrowings, and organizational imitation. Rather I take the position that it is enumerated below. Mukti Ali (1957) is somewhat outdated now but still gives a useful bibliographical introduction to the study of Muhammadijah. On the pre-war Muhammadijah, Alfian (I9 6 9 ) is by far the most detailed but focuses mainly on politics. Deliar Noer (1973), much broader in per spective, includes various other reformist movements and covers aspects other than politics, but ends with the close of the Dutch period. On the Masjumi, a reformist Muslim party. Deliar Noer (1 9 6 0 ) is a useful source of information. Boland (1971 ) is an attempt to cover Islamic politics in the entire period of post-independence Indonesia but is factually weak. Ward (1 9 7 0 ) deals with the establishment of the Portai Muslimin Indonesia, as a successor to the banned Masjumi Party in the current military regime of Indonesia. Benda's study (1958) on Islamic politics during the Japa nese occupation period has much broader significance as an overview of the position of Islam in pre-independence Indonesia and as a bridge between the pre-war Dutch scholarship on Indonesian Islam and Islamic studies of the post-war period mainly by American scholars. Clifford Geertz's many booklength works (1 9 6 O, 1963b,19&5, and 1 9 6 8 ) have been the most instrumental in advancing our knowledge of the religious situation in contemporary Java from the anthropological viewpoint. Jay (I9 6 3 ) and Castles (1 9 6 7 ) have also contributed to the documentation of interactions between religion and politics or economy in certain Javanese communities. Federspiel's dissertation on the Persatuan Islam (l970) is a useful sum mary of this distinctive reformist intellectual and educational movement. Seigel (1 9 6 9 ), dealing with Islam in Atj eh, has achieved a new height in our understanding of Islam in Indonesia by presenting a detailed analysis of the dialectic relationship between local social structure and Islam. Taufik Abdullah (1971) has done a similar analysis for reformist Islam in Minangkabau. Lev's work (1972) is specifically on the Islamic judicial system in Indonesia but offers useful insights into the current position of Islam in Indonesian society in general. === [PDF page 28] === more essential to understand the movement as a process of religious change developing from interactions among various elements internal to Javanese society. To borrow Geertz's expression, "externally stimulated, the upheaval was internal" (Geertz 1 9 6 8:6 5 ). Most of the previous studies on the Muhammadijah have been concerned with its national leadership, theological orientations, and political role in colonial and independent Indonesia. In contrast, my study focuses upon local realities of the movement — the religious beliefs and practices of local leaders and ordinary members, and the social implications of the movement for a local society. For my study I selected the town of Kotagede, in the Special Region of Jogjakarta in Central Java. The town possesses various advantages for the observation of the local development of Muhammadijah. The town has been an ethnically pure Javanese town,^ set in the heartland of Javanese civilization, for more than four hundred years. It appears in history in the latter half of the l6th century as the first capital of the King dom of Later Mataram, the first Islamized kingdom in the interior of south Central Java, in contrast to the northern coastal kingdoms which received the influence of Islam at a much earlier date. The Later Mataram in its early reigns achieved what turned out to be the final phase in the-ascendancy of Javanese civilization over the entire Indo nesian Archipelago, combining the agricultural basis of the riceland According to the 1930 Volkstelling (population census), the town con sisted of 9,8 6 2 souls, 99*^9% of whom were Javanese, the second highest rate of inlanders ('natives') among all the urban centers in Java (the highest being the town of Kedawung in West Java with 99.60%) and the highest in the Principalities, Central and East Java. (Cf. Milone 1 9 6 6:1 1 6, 1 2 U, and passim). === [PDF page 29] === in Central Java and the seafaring centers of power on the north coast. It also embodied a refined syncretization of indigenous, Hindu-Buddhist, and Islamic cultures in its court life. The seat of the Later Mataramese court moved from Kotagede in the early decades of the 17th century. However, Kotagede has to this day remained a distinct Javanese urban center in which religious, industrial, and commercial activities of regional, and even national significance have been operating. Religious developments leading to the establishment of a local Muhammadijah also took place in this milieu. As early as the mid-1910's a Muslim association named Sjarekatul Mubtadi was founded by some Kota gede Muslims, whose purpose was to promote a better understanding of Islamic teachings. The association was markedly different from the tra ditional Islamic tarékat, or mystical order, in that it aimed at direct learning of the holy scriptures of Islam by its members and at public dissemination of religious knowledge rather than at an exclusive, eso teric acquisition of mystical truths, and it included both sexes in the organization and the public audience of its activities. It was only in the early 1920’s, after several years of existence as an inde pendent, local organization, that the Sjarekatul Mubtadi in Kotagede decided to incorporate as a local group belonging to the Muhammadijah organization, which had by then spread from Jogjakarta city proper to other parts of Java. Muhammadijah in Kotagede has grown steadily to this day. Its membership has increased from a few score when the group was first organized, to almost one thousand at present. Its accomplishments in the past 50 years in Kotagede have been enormous. The most apparent === [PDF page 30] === achievements are discernible in the field of public education and social welfare. Muhammadijah has established three public grade schools, one public and another religious high school, a polyclinic and a maternity clinic, a new mosque and a musholla (a mosque for women) and a number of langgar (a small prayer house for daily prayers), and recently a short wave radio station. It has sponsored many courses on religious education for adults and children in various parts of the town and in its vicinity, and has initiated numerous changes in the religious beliefs and prac tices of the townspeople. Islamic annual rituals, weekly and daily prayers, community rites, rites of passage for individuals, all have undergone fundamental changes due to the' initiative of the Muhammadijah. To a substantial number of people in Kotagede who have joined, or have become sympathetic to the Muhammadijah, the meaning of Islam has dras tically changed from what it had been to their ancestors a few genera tions ago. Besides strictly local achievements, Kotagede Muhammadijah has also made significant contributions to the advancement of the Islamic cause on the national and regional level.^ In the post-colonial government of Indonesia, natives of Kotagede have thus far twice occupied the cabinet position in charge of religious affairs and a third, who is affinally related to a Kotagede family, is the present incumbent. At least two Kotagedeans have held positions among the highest in the exec utive branch of the regional and municipal governments of Jogjakarta. A local intellectual has likened the role of Kotagede to that of Kota Gedang in the Minangkabau area in Sumatra for the development of the Islamic as well as the independence movement of Indonesia. Kota Gedang is connected with such prominent figures as H. Agus Salim, Dr. Hatta, Sutan Sjahrir, Mr. Tamzil and Dr. Saat. Masa Kini (Sept. 23, 1972, Jogjakarta). === [PDF page 31] === The first head of the regional religious affairs office, created during .the Japanese occupation period, was a Kotagede Muslim leader. Numerous lesser positions in the religious affairs offices on the regional, municipal, and ward level in Jogjakarta have been occupied by Kotagede Muslims. All over the Archipelago, the Muhammadijah and other Islamic schools have received a constant stream of primary and secondary school teachers from Kotagede. Also Kotagede has produced a disproportionately large number of professionally trained people including medical doctors, engineers, lawyers, and college and university teachers, mostly from Muhammadijah families. One is almost tempted to term this phenomenon a social and intel lectual explosion. Indeed, a local informant has employed the term 'Islamic revolution' to refer to the explosive release of human energies which has occurred in this small Javanese town of 15,000 people over the past several decades. Yet the Kotagede phenomenon seems not atypical; it is rather a part of a general pattern of modern Islamic upsurge in Java. In fact, the early development of the Muhammadijah movement can be attributed to the social and religious ferment occurring more or less independently in various regional and local urban centers in Java.^ It is, therefore, my hope that an examination of local particulars of the process of Muhammadijah development in Kotagede will contribute to an understanding of the general pattern of modern Islamic transformation in Javanese society. ^Solichin Salem (1 9 6 3 b:Ulf) reports that prior to the establishment of Muhammadijah in Jogjakarta, there already existed various independent or ganizations in the Jogjakarta residency such as Ichwanul Muslimin, Taqwimiddin, Walfadjri, Hambudi Sutji, Chajatul Qulub, Ta'awanul alal birri, Prijo Utomo. In 1921 these organizations finally dissolved in order to join the Muhammadijah. Also cf. Solichin Salam (1 9 6 5:55f;63f) for simi lar but slightly more detailed information. === [PDF page 32] === In concrete terms, the primary purpose of this study is to provide detailed documentation and analysis of the process of Muhammadijah development in Kotagede and its implications for religious and other aspects of life among the townspeople. The study is historical as well as ethnographic in its approach and covers a period of some 70 years. Thus combining diachronic and synchronic analysis, I aim to attain a measure of understanding of what Clifford Geertz called "mechanisms of religious change" for what has taken place in Kotagede: "What we want to know is... b y what mechanisms and from what causes these extraordinary transforma tions have taken place. And for this we need to train our primary attention neither on indices, stages, traits, nor trends, but on processes, on the way in which things stop being what they are and become instead something In order to employ this kind of.approach in the study of religious change, it is essential to make available detailed information on "processes of change" over an extended period of time. In this regard, I was fortunate to find two documents from two different periods in the modern history of Kotagede. One is a monograph written in 1905 by the then Assistant Resident of Jogjakarta on the general state of affairs in Kotagede (van Bevervoorde 1905). The monograph enabled me to set the baseline of my historical inquiry at around the year 1900. It has been used as a primary source of information to reconstruct society and religion in Kotagede prior to the Dutch reforms in the 1 9 1 0 's and the advent of Muhammadijah in the 1920's. The other document is a set of two articles published in I926 by the then Controller of Agricultural Affairs in Jogjakarta on the Dutch reforms and subsequent === [PDF page 33] === changes in the administrative and land tenure systems then obtaining in the town of Kotagede (van Mook 1926a, 1926b, and 1958). Obviously, these documents suffer from the limitations inherent in the scope and concern of their authors who were colonial administra tors. van Bevervoorde wastes many pages on a dilettante discourse on historical personalities of the Later Mataram, relying on sources of a dubious nature. Yet, on the other hand, following the conduct of colonial bureaucrats of his time, he provides an extensive nomenclature of regulations governing the relationships between the Javanese courts and the people, and describes how these regulations were put into effect. This gives us a good amount of information about Javanese lives during his time, van Mook's work is more scholarly in character and has the flavor of a modern social scientist's writing. However, he is more often than not concerned about presenting what he wants to see happen in Kotagede, from the standpoint of an enlightened, benevolent, yet paternalistic and mildly social-democratic Ethical Policy pro ponent, rather than what he actually sees. Reading between the lines of his arguments for what must be done in order to 'modernize' and 'rationalize' Javanese principalities in general and Kotagede in par ticular reveals what Kotagede society must have looked like in the 1920's. In neither case, however, does religion constitute a central concern of the authors. The 'hearts and minds' of the 'natives' were still extraneous to their immediate concern. The documents are administrative rather than political reports. In spite of these draw backs, they retain all the merits of first-hand witness accounts. === [PDF page 34] === 10 As to the subsequent process of social and religious change in Kotagede, various local documents and testimonies of local informants have been utilized. By piecing together information obtained from these diverse sources, I have been able to reconstruct to a convincing degree a picture of the processes of change in soeiety and religion in the recent past of Kotagede. The picture thus obtained, however, presents several kinds of paradoxes in view of what has so far been assumed about the modern history of Javanese society and religion. The first paradox is that the Muhammadijah movement, as an organized effort to cleanse Javanese Islam of its admixture of heterodox local customs and beliefs, gained strong support in the midst of a local com munity where these heterodox customs and beliefs had long been deeply rooted. Strong aspiration for fundament ali st Islamic reform emerged from a population which had been thoroughly imbued with an extremely syncretic religious tradition. To quote a local informant, "the exis tence of the Muhammadijah organization and its progress [has taken place] in the atmosphere of a tradition which not long ago had been filled with the smell of incense and the smoke of opium" (S. K. Hardjono 1 9 6 9:2 7 ). Incense-burning, of course, refers to heterodox ritual practices and opium-smoking indicates moral decay among the powerful and rich, from the viewpoint of the reformist Ikislim movement which made both practices the target of vehement attacks in the earliest stage of its development.^ The extensiveness of opium-smoking among the well-to-do of the Jogjakarta residency can be indicated by the following statistics: There existed 83 licensed opium-sale places in 1903 (including one in Kotagede) and 2k in I9 2 U; in the latter year a total of 22,653 thail (l thail = 3 8.6 OI gram) === [PDF page 35] === 11 The second paradox is the existence of a large group of rich Java nese traders and craftsmen in Kotagede well before 1900 whose wealth, entrepreneurial skills and business networks were comparable to those of the Chinese in the general area of south Central Java. It has been a common assumption among students of modern Javanese society that, as a result of the Dutch encroachment in the field of international and domestic trade activities in Java since the days of the Dutch East Indies Company and its employment of the Chinese as middlemen between the indigenous sector and European sector of the economy, indigenous Javanese trade and industrial activities were stifled or at best reduced to the level of petty peddling and casual handicraft (cf. Burger 1956) It has further been assumed that a social class based upon trade and industry is something antithetical to the official social philosophy of Javanese society in which two classes, the rulers with their royal 6 (cont'd.) of opium costing ^ 679,596.60 was sold to 2,679 licensed opium smokers there (Dingemans 1925:49; 1926a:29). Some enlightened Javanese like Raden Adjeng Kartini expressed abhorrence at opium-smoking as early as the turn of the century. In 1899 Kartini wrote to one of her Dutch correspondents: "[But] an evil greater than alcohol is here and that is opium. Oh I the misery, the inexpressible horror it has brought to my country! Opium is the pest of Java. Yes, opium is far worse than the pest. The pest does not remain forever; sooner or later, it goes away, but the evil of opium, once established, grows. It spreads more and more, and will never leave us, never grow l e s s — for to speak plainly — it is protected by the Government! The more general the use of opium in Java, the fuller the treasury.... Hunger will make a man a thief, but the hunger for opium will make him a murderer." (Kartini 1964: 34-35). Despite Kartini's pessimism, as a result of anti-opium campaigns waged simultaneously by the Dutch authorities as part of the Ethical Policy and by various reformist Muslim movements as part of their proselytizing work, opium-smoking was virtually wiped out by the end of the Dutch rule. 7por a refutation of this view, see Dewey (1962:190-203). === [PDF page 36] === 12 servants (prijaji) on the one hand and the peasantry on the other, have occupied the only recognized legitimate positions in society (cf. Castles 1967:4). As mentioned before, Kotagede is located in the heartland of south Central Java where this supposedly non-mercantile Javanese tradition has been pervasive. Yet the wealth, vigor, and tight network of Kotagede traders and craftsmen have traditionally been called by such derogatory terms as Petjina D.jawa ('Javanese Chinese') or even Jahudi DJawa ('Java nese Jews'). There are no easy answers to resolve these paradoxes. If Kotagede traders and craftsmen had been devout Muslims prior to the advent of Muhammadijah, it would be possible to accept what Clifford Geertz has termed "historical and functional connections between Islam and trade" (Geertz 1968:68). Geertz has argued that the connections are "partly historical" in that "Islam was drawn to Indonesia by a trade expansion [in the fifteenth century] which two centuries later was turned inward by the Dutch dominance along the coasts" and"partly functional" in that "there was an elective affinity... between itinerant, small scale, catch-as-catch-can trading and an assortment of informal, independent, freely accessible, virtually costless religious hostels scattered broadly over the countryside" (Geertz ibid.). So mosque and market have been a 'natural pair' and, together with the institutions of pilgrimage and religious schools (pesantren), have formed "an intrusive, dissonant, destabilizing force" against the basically Indie high culture (ibid.). Geertz's generalization, however, seems to rely too heavily on the historical experiences on the north coasts of Central and East Java, === [PDF page 37] === 13 whereas the relationship between Islam and trade in south Central Java seems to present a different pattern. As far as traders and craftsmen in Kotagede until the first decade of this century are concerned, they were as much abangan (syncretic, nominally Muslim) as any other abangan people in the town (cf. Rasjidi 1968:9f). If there existed any element of Islamic orthodoxy at all in Kotagede at that time, it was to be found among localized court officials, abdi dalem (royal servant), who as part of their official duties were obliged to adhere to at least the outward ritual orthodoxy of Islam. Among such officials, those who were responsible for the upkeep of the royal mosque in Kotagede and the performance of court rituals there strictly followed the basic rituals of Islam. These were known as abdi dalem santri, a contradiction in terms in Geertz's classification of variants of Javanese religion (cf. Geertz 1960:133), but this was in fact quite a natural state of affairs in Kotagede and in the principalities in general before the advent of Muhammadijah (cf. Soejatno 1974:100). In short, as far as pre-Muhammadij ah Islam in Kotagede is con cerned, Geertz's argument for the "historical and functional connections between Islam and trade" is not tenable. It is true that since the 1 9 1 0 's the development of Muhammadijah has drawn many members from among wealthy traders and craftsmen in the town. Yet it is also true that in order for those traders and craftsmen to become devout Muslims following the reformist tenets of the Muhammadijah movement, a profound change in their religious outlook was first necessary, and this in turn inevitably affected all other aspects of their way of life. There had been a vast ideological and psychological disparity between their === [PDF page 38] === ■behavior in market and mosque. In order for them to integrate the two disharmonious patterns of behavior into one coherent system of world view and ethos, a religious revolution of a sort \ra,s necessary. I believe that that revolution did take place in Kotagede and this study is a documentation and analysis of it (Chapters II and III). In so doing, I adopt the Weberian view that, once that revolution was achieved, it had (and still has) profound consequences whose implications were (and are) felt far beyond the realm of the particular social segments who were originally instrumental in bringing it about. The third paradox arises from more recent developments in Kotagede. My field data suggest that the parallel, mutually stimulating development of the indigenous bourgeoisie and the Muhammadijah movement was basically a pre-war phenomenon. It ended with the collapse of the Dutch colonial rule in 19^2 or in the 1950's at the latest. The War, the Revolution and the subsequent political and economic turmoil have not afforded Kotagede entrepreneurs an opportunity to regain their pre-war level of economic strength. For the majority of Kotagedeans, who are small traders, artisans, unskilled workers, and day laborers, the days of economic comforts were gone for good more than a generation ago. With a few exceptions, the level of economic life for the bulk of the popula tion in Kotagede has constantly been pushed downwards over the past thirty years. Yet, the Muhammadijah movement has, according to my observation, kept growing over the same period, and the movement seems unlikely to lose its élan in the foreseeable future. Here again the Geertzian explanation in terms of the functional connection between modern entrepreneur ship and reformist Islam fails to account for the === [PDF page 39] === 15 continuous progress of Islamization in the face of general economic Impoverishment. In search of a more satisfactory explanation, I am going to follow the lead of Weher again, and focus ray attention on the particular nature of the religious resources of reformist Islam, its ideology as well as its ritual action. The case of Kotagede also suggests the need for a more serious reconsideration or revision of Geertz on the Javanese way of social categorization. This is not merely a problem of regional variation. It is one of conceptualization. As Ruth McVey mentions (1969:15, n.l6), Indonesian scholars have long been quite critical of Geertz’s repre sentation of Javanese social categorization in terms of abangan, santri, and prijaji. These scholars have insisted that the abangan/santri dichotomy has been the fundamental categorization of religious differen tiation employed by Javanese themselves. Prijaji is a category of a different order, and it cannot be contrasted to abangan or santri but to wong tjilik (lit. 'little people’), the common people. (Cf. Koentjaraningrat 1960:89-91, 1967:246; Sartono 1966:50, 1972:82, esp, n. 31. Also, cf. Liddle 1973:294, n. 10). One of the most recent examples of Indonesian criticism of Geertz is found in the work of the political scientist Deliar Noer, who maintains: "Geertz' division of the Javanese into putihan [= santri], aban gan and prijaji is, [however], quite misleading, because such a division is not based on the same criteria. The proper division into putihan and abangan is based on one's devotion to Islam. Prijaji denotes nobility, in traditional Java those connected with the administration, and can thus be contrasted to the common people. The basis for the division into putihan and abangan can also be applied to the prijaji group, so that in this group too the presence of ulama or kijahi is not an impossi bility." (Noer 1973:19, n. 33). === [PDF page 40] === Perhaps Geertz’s trichotomy has been a product of over-theorization. One of his earliest, preliminary ethnographic accounts of Modjokuto society is less emphatic in giving prijaji the status of an independent religious variant comparable to that of abangan or santri (1956a:138f, especially see Diagram 5 on p. l4o). What seems to underlie his later over-theorization is his commitment to the Parsonian grand theory of social action. It has perhaps been due to his Parsonian assumption of the relative independence and interdependence of social structure, culture and personality, and broad correspondence, if not congruence, among those three sub-systems of social action that he has been compelled to assign particularly distinct, homogeneous cultural (ideological) and personality (psychological) features to prijaji in spite of the fact that internal religious differentiation among the prijaji can easily be noticed ethnographically. McVey (ibid.) has attempted to defend Geertz against his Javanese critics by saying that his concern is primarily sociological rather than theological and that Javanese do employ a Geertzian tripartite division in actual socio-political contexts, but I do not think her attempt can be justified in view of the fact that Geertz has employed this trichotomy most explicitly in dealing with the "religion of Java" (1 9 6 0 ). Since I am not (at least not yet) an anthropologist engaged in grand theorization but rather prefer at this point to remain an ethnog rapher eager to learn faithfully from the people he studies, I am quite happy to abandon Geertz's trichotomy. Once it is renounced, we can see For an interesting explication of indigenous categorizations in the Surakarta Susuhunanate, see Soejatno (ibid.;99-101)« === [PDF page 41] === 17 that it is not a 'linguistic "barbarism' at all to talk about 'prijajiized abangan' or 'prijaji-ized santri' (cf. Geertz 1956:lUo). Neither is abdi dalem santri in Kotagede a contradiction or anomaly. When Islamization, as I understand it, is related to the above dis cussion of the basic categorization of Javanese society, my overall argument implies that the current process of Islamization in Kotagede is not merely a matter of a change in the religious outlook of a certain segment of the local society but is rather a matter relevant to the ideological make-up of the entire local populace. In more concrete terms, what I am suggesting is that an increasing number of individuals in the abangan category have moved and are still moving towards the category of santri, i.e., that increasingly large numbers of previously abangan individuals choose to become santri. Hence the title of my dissertation, "the crescent arises over the banyan tree." What this says is that santri elements represented by the crescent, or more accurately, by the crescent and star, have grown out of abangan elements represented by the banyan tree, I am also aware that my argument comes into direct conflict with the traditional view of Javanese cultural history, a view still preva lent among many Indonesian observers, specialists and laymen alike. This view employs a metaphor for the cultural history of Java as a cultural palimpsest which accumulated over the past centuries. Perhaps this kind of geological image is a carry-over from the intellectual climate in which diffusionism or cultural-sphere theory was in fashion. In this view, it is assumed that first there was a ground layer of indigenous Javanese culture, basically animistic, onto which then the === [PDF page 42] === 18 layer of Hindu-Buddhism arrived and sedimented. After almost a millen nium of Hindu-Buddhist dominance, the layer of Islamic culture invaded and overran the island. It flourished for the next half a millennium until the arrival of the Western culture. Contemporary Javanese culture is an outcome of this successive stratification of diverse cultures in which, it is assumed, the older a culture is the more it is rooted. Along the line of this geological metaphor, there has also been much argument as to whether or not the late-coming Islamic layer, or the Western one for that matter, is only a superficial veneer covering more deeply embedded Hindu-Buddhism or indigenous Javanism. The metaphor has also been projected onto the structure of Javanese personality, in a vulgar Freudian manner, attributing the Islamic and/or Western upper layers to the level of consciousness and the Hindu-Buddhism and/or animism to that of unconsciousness. However, as I see it, the geological metaphor is totally inadequate for understanding either Javanese cultural history or its contemporary scene. First of all, the image of cultural stratification is only per missible as a short-hand illustration for reconstructing the millennia of the Javanese cultural past at the cost of ignoring all the complexity of interrelationships between these diverse cultural elements. As to the contemporary scene, nowhere in reality, either in Javanese society as a whole or in the personality of any particular Javanese individual, does there exist anything like this simplistic notion of layering. What does exist and constitutes the contemporary Javanese world of ideas is an assortment of ideas deriving from diverse cultural traditions and absorbed by generations of Javanese. Regardless of its historical === [PDF page 43] === 19 and geographic origin, however, any ideological element is taken into the world of Javanese ideas only through the process of selective adop tion, re-interpretation, and reworking by living Javanese. Once taken in, it can claim an equal validity with any other element in the world of Javanese ideas, and its eventual fate is solely dependent on its relevance to the experience of Javanese actually living in a certain place at a certain time. Secondly, the geological metaphor is inappropriate in that it ignores active interactions among those diverse cultural elements, the result of which is often a syncretization or amalgamation. So in the case of Javanese ideological history, the end product of this process may be termed Agama Djawa (Javanese Religion) as quoted from Berg at the beginning of this introduction. However, a note of caution is necessary. Just as Berg himself has called Agama Djawa an "uncritical unity of contraries," so Western observers whose way of thinking is trained to be analytical rather than synthetical tend to engage in an immediate sectioning-out of such an amalgamated entity into component elements in spite of the fact that, for indigenous Javanese, Agama Djawa has long been a complete, indivisible entity of its own. For Japanese observers like m e, it seems out of place in dealing with Javanese religious syncretism. Most of my countrymen are born as Shintoists and buried as Buddhists and, like the Javanese, spend most of their time in between constantly absorbing, rearranging and reworking diverse cultural elements from an extremely wide range of sources. Instead of looking at the Javanese syncretic situation in an analyt ical or rather anatomical way and thus killing the life of the object of === [PDF page 44] === 20 study, I see the reality of Javanese religious life, as a living organism, whose parts are thinly demarcated by cell-walls. These cellwalls which separate groups and individuals into categories of different religious orientations and commitments are not like iron- or bamboocurtains but are rather something analogous to permeable membranes. In the Javanese world of ideas, diverse ideologies do not exist as mutually separate entities whose interrelationships are that of hostil ity, compromise or mechanical eclecticism. They are rather fluid liquids which can easily mix together under certain conditions. As I hope to show in Chapter V, many fundamental Javanese religious concepts can be simultaneously labelled indigenous-animistic, Hindu-Buddhistic, and Islamic (and sometimes even 'modern* ). In this situation, neither a functional approach in the tradition of the sociology of religion nor that of cultural historians is capable of grasping the entire range of extensiveness of Javanese ideas and their mutual permutations. Agama Djawa is not a composite of Javanese animism, Hindu-Buddhism, and Islam, nor is it so well differentiated as to have abangan, santri, or prijaji religious sub-systems. Analytical thinking tends to delineate and even isolate various categories and sub-categories, thereby creating a false problem; the problem of then explaining the interrelationship in terms of complementary oppositions, integrative functions of mixed types, contextual relativism, and the like. Abeuigan and santri are sub categories, but their meanings can only properly be understood when the entire world of Agama Djawa or Javanized Islam has first been understood as a whole. Contrary to the common impression of post-Geertzian === [PDF page 45] === 21 Indonesia specialists, I maintain that Javanese religious life, to say nothing of religious change, is a subject of which only a tiny portion has thus far been explored. Finally, in order to avoid possible misunderstandings, I would like to state explicitly that by the title of my dissertation I am not suggesting Islam's ascendancy over the secular political power in the current Indonesian political context. Despite the fact that the cres cent and star symbol has been used by the Masjumi Party as well as by its present legal but illegitimate successor, the Indonesian Muslim Party (Partai Muslimin Indonesia or Parmusi) and that the banyan tree has been employed as the party symbol of the current government party Golkar, I do not mean to suggest or advocate the supremacy of Muslim political forces in contemporary Indonesian politics. This is, in any case, far from the truth of the situation. The image of the crescent and star arising over the banyan tree is simply meant as a graphic sum mation and visualization of my observations in Kotagede. Now let me conclude this introduction by explaining the organization of my dissertation. In structuring the following chapters, I have tried to present parallel yet independent developments occurring at the levels of ideology and sociological reality. Thus I have started Chapter II with a description of Kotagede society in the last half of the 19th century when the court-centered social and religious order was still active. Then I have discussed social changes brought into this situa tion around the turn of the century and their significance for religious developments leading to the formation of a local reformist Muslim move ment in the earliest decades of this century. === [PDF page 46] === 22 Chapter III "begins with a "brief discussion of the inherent tensions in the religion of Islam which "become more pronounced in response to the changing social situation described in the preceding chapter. In this third chapter, my concern has been to present a detailed description of individual reformist Muslim leaders' life histories. I have tried to describe the ways in which some key persons have made their choice among those alternative courses of action which presented themselves within the limits of given sociological realities. I have focused on individ ual life histories because the transformation from abangan to santri has most clearly manifested itself as the choice of individuals. The first part of Chapter IV is a straightforward presentation and discussion of sociological features of the more recent and contemporary generations of Muhammidij ah members and sympathizers. However, this information leads up to the point where a knowledge of general socio logical features alone can no longer explain peculiarities of Muslim social behavior, and a discussion of a different order, i.e., the religious significance of social realities viewed in terms of specif ically Islamic idioms, must be undertaken. Equally indispensable is an analysis of the symbolic meaning of ritual action viewed not so much as an expression or activation of the reformist ideology, but rather as an expression or activation of "anti-structure" in the sense that Victor Turner has proposed in recent years (Turner 1969:94-203, and 1 9 7 4, esp..Chapters V and VI). The rest of the chapter is therefore assigned these tasks. Chapter V is devoted to a discussion of the intrinsic nature of ideological idioms of Javanese Islam in the general background of === [PDF page 47] === 23 Javanese world view and ethic. An attempt has been made to understand the meanings of Islamic idioms in the general semantic field of the vernacular language(s) as they are expressed and comprehended by the local townspeople themselves. Chapter VI contains a recapitulation of my major points of argu ment and a brief discussion of some of the theoretical problems involved in the previous studies of Javanese Islam. Throughout my thesis, I have tried to present the relationship between ideological and sociological developments as a dialectic. It is dialectical in that a sociological situation implies a potential of its own negation or anti-thesis in the form of an ideology, while once the ideology is actualized as a sociological reality it is bound to be challenged again by another ideological development. And it is my con tention that in the context of modern Javanese intellectual history Islam has been the most important and most vital source from which these successive ideological developments have repeatedly received stimuli and inspiration in different forms at different points in time. As a result of my observation of modern Islamic transformation in Kotagede, I have become dissatisfied with the positivist approach to religion in which religion is treated as an epiphenomenon or reflection of social reality. Neither am I satisfied with the more 'sophisticated' form of positivism in which a congruence between things religious and things social is sought. Rather I have come to entertain a view which emphasizes the generative, formative and transformative aspects of religion. The following presentation is an exercise in this direction. === [PDF page 48] === CHAPTER II SOCIETY AND RELIGION IN TRADITIONAL KOTAGEDE: CONTINUITY AND CHANGE '"YELLOW, THREE LEGGED TURTLE TO KOTAGEDE.' A yellow tiu’tle having only three legs, found recently on the Samas seashore (22 km south of Yogya city) by a boatman, has been handed over by the Bantul Regional Chief to the guard of the Siliran bathing complex near the Kotagede royal cemetery to be further kept there as an extraordinary pet turtle by order of the Yogyakarta kraton. A yellow or white turtle is rare and considered as sacred beast by some people here." Kedaulatan Rakyat, December 11, 1973, "Latest News in Brief" (English original). In this chapter, I first attempt a brief reconstruction of some salient features of society and religion in Kotagede during the latter half of the 19th century and then discuss the significance of socio economic changes occurring in the town in the subsequent period for the rise of the reformist Muslim movement which became pronounced by the second decade of the 20th century. The main point I want to make in this chapter is that (a) Kotagede, especially the royal cemetery complex in the town, was a locus of 'Power' (cf. Anderson 1972) both for the rulers and the ruled in the Later Mataramese society, but (b) the effect of 'Power' was undermined externally by increasing Dutch encroachments into the society, and (c) internally, it met ideological and institutional challenges from the reformist Muslim movement whose social base was among rising entrepreneurs, 24 === [PDF page 49] === 25 JAVANESE PRINCIPALITIES Prior to focusing on the locality of Kotagede, a sketch of the social, political, and economic conditions which prevailed in the Java nese principalities in the 1 9 th century will help to give us a perspective. The defeat of the revolt led by Prince Dipanegara against the Dutch and a faction of the Jogjakarta kraton supported by them (1 8 2 5 -1 8 3 0 ) finally and totally incapacitated traditional Javanese rulers from resisting further political and economic encroachments by the Dutch. The cleavages within the Mataramese royal house were thus widened and made irrevocable. There was an attendant absolute reduction in the size of the royal territory. Through new treaties with the Dutch, all four Javanese principalities — two major ones (Surakarta and Jogjakarta) and two minor ones (Mangkunegaran and Pakualaman) — were deprived of any military forces beyond ceremonial troops, sovereign rights to deal with foreign countries independently, and control over external trade. Appointments of high officials now required Dutch con sent, and Dutch interference even in the matter of royal succession became the order of the day. Royal treasuries became totally dependent on the Dutch. Furthermore, the principality rulers were explicitly The 1 9 th century seems to be a lacuna in the historiography of Java. The early reigns of the Later Mataram during the 17th century have been covered by a series of detailed monographs by de Graaf (1954, 1 9 5 8, 1 9 6 1, and 1 9 6 2 ). The l8th century history of Java, especially the split of the Mataram dynasty in 1755 and its aftermath, has been the subject of Ricklefs’ two-volume dissertation (1973). But no comparable work has yet been done on the 19th century. Especially felt is the lack of any detailed work on religious developments during the 19 th century, a fact which Sartono has repeatedly emphasized and has tried himself to remedy to some extent through his own works (1 9 6 6, 1 9 7 0, and 1 9 7 2 ). The field remains virtually a terra incognita. === [PDF page 50] === 26 obligated by the Dutch to keep watchful eyes on the nobility, official dom, and the common people under their jurisdiction lest another Dipanegara-type uprising occur. In short, the very continuation of the indigenous rulership itself was made completely dependent upon the mercy of the Dutch crown. Thus the Dipanegara War formed the most decisive watershed in the history of the Dutch colonization of Java; before that, the primary concern of the Dutch was commercial gain; thereafter, it shifted to political domination and exploitation of natural and human resources. (Cf. Schrieke 1 9 6 6, i;l67-22l). As a result of the Dipanegara War, the vast majority of the popu lation and a large portion of land came under direct jurisdiction by the Dutch. The colonial authorities, however, maintained a double adminis tration system in which Javanese regional and local officials were allowed to retain their power to rule their compatriots under Dutch supervision which partially paralleled the native officialdom. This system, however, did not apply to the principalities (vorstenlanden in Dutch) in which the indigenous political hierarchy was left intact. This was controlled by the Dutch only at its apex. And in spite of this de facto dependency status of the principalities, both the Dutch colonial government and Javanese rulers felt it mutually beneficial to maintain a fiction of Javanese sovereignty. Internally, the Javanese principalities in the latter half of the 1 9 th century developed disproportionately large numbers of royal families and an inflated prijaji corps because the process of 'natural selection,' i.e., fratricidal wars, was arrested under pax neerlandica. As a re sult, the common people had to endure increased economic burdens to feed === [PDF page 51] === 21 the courts and their officials. On the positive side, however, the principalities were the only pocket in Java in which the Dutch officials had to pay at least formal respect to the Javenese rulers and in which Javanese national pride was relatively freely expressed and encouraged, especially in the fields of art, music, and literature. In the field of religion, however, hoth Dutch and Javanese rulers learned a hitter lesson from the revolt of Prince Dipanegara, who com manded enthusiastic support from a wide range of the Javanese population as a personality who was endowed with the combined qualities of a devout Muslim leader (Mahdi), a messiah (Erutjakra) and a legitimate and just ruler (Ratu Adil) blessed by Ratu Kidul, or Njaji Loro Kidul, the Goddess of the South Ocean. After the War, the principality authorities tightened their control over the Islamic bureaucracy (abdi dalem santri), a large portion of which had favored Dipanegara. They remained alert to any signs of voluntary, popular enthusiasm in mystical or devotional orders, and repeatedly disbanded and suppressed these before they could spread. The Dutch authorities were more than happy In Babad Dipanegara, Dipanegara tells about the episode wherein the Penghulu, the Head of the Great Mosque in Jogjakarta and the chief of the religious bureaucracy of the Sultanate, was quite sympathetic to Dipanegara, but in order to avoid direct involvement in the coming strife, he decided to leave Java for Mekka with the promise that he would return upon Dipanegara's victory (cf. Kumar 1972:113-116). According to van den Berg (l883:l62-l63), a Naqsjibendijah order led by a kijaji/hadji in Semarang attempted to spread its activities south into the principality region in the early l8 8 0 's, but upon learning of its initial success, the "native government" (inlandsch bestuur) in both Jogjakarta and Surakarta, especially their religious bureaucracy (geestelijkheid), feared that the order might incite "irregularities" (ongeregeldheden) and "unrest" (onrust) like those in the earlier years, and consequently expelled it from their respective territories. === [PDF page 52] === 28 to extend their help in this direction. As a result, that’version of Islam in the principality territories which already had served as the religious legitimation for the Javanese rulership was further elaborated. In contrast, the version of Islam in the areas of direct Dutch rule mostly took the form of a devotional and mystic movement, and it seeped ever more deeply into the countryside, frequently inspiring local ’subversive' and 'fanatic* anti-prijaji, anti-Dutch resistance. ^I believe that an overview of regional differences in the process of Islamisation up to the end of the 19th century is a prerequisite for a proper understanding of Islamic developments in this century. We must consider such factors and configurations as the nature of the political relationships between the indigenous rulers and the Dutch, the mode and degree of penetration of the Dutch colonial economy and the role of Chinese therein, regional traditions and local religious institutions (sacred places and pilgrimage centers), and most importantly, religious policies of the Dutch and indigenous authorities in different areas. An indication of the amazing degree of regional and local difference in the process of Islamization and its contemporary outcome can be found in an interesting report on a survey conducted by the Shûmübu (the Department of Religious Affairs) of the Japanese Military Government of Java in 19^2 (Osamu Shüdan 19^3). The report includes information on the number of kijaji/ulama, hadji, and ordinary religious teachers down to the level of son, an equivalent of the sub-district in Dutch times. If I can take these figures as a reflection of the degree of Islamiza tion in a certain area, then my preliminary processing of them (see the Tables II-l and II-2 below) tells that (a) Central Java was less Islamized than West and East Java, and (b) the principality regions were the least Islamized in Central Java. Table II-l. Distribution of Hadji and Kijaji in Java. West Java 11,039,350 27.0 67,740 5 0.0 7,6 5 2 42.0 Central Java 15,0^0,042 37.0 29,418 21.0 4,664 2 5.0 East Java 14,811,701 36.0 39,030 2 9.0 6,1 5 0 33.0 Total 40,891,093 100.0 1 3 6,1 8 8 100.0 18,466 100.0 —^The figures are from the 1930 population census and only of inlanders ("natives"). === [PDF page 53] === 29 In this general outline, Kotagede maintained a unique position. Thanks to its status as a royal sanctuary, it was spared the devastations of the Dipanegara War. Its economic position as an indigenous center of trade and industry allowed the townspeople to benefit from the expanding intra-regional market network under pax neerlandica and from the deeper penetration of a monetary economy into the region. Also, the royal religious institution as the core of the town's life cultivated and nur tured general religious sentiments among a large number of individuals despite the fact that most of them were abangan in practice. It was this which later helped make the transformation from state Islam into popular devotional Islam less violent than was the case elsewhere. KOTAGEDE: A BRIEF HISTORY AND GEOGRAPHY The town of Kotagede, the major part of which is now administra tively incorporated into the city of Jogjakarta, is nevertheless still 3 (cont'd.) Table II-2. Distribution of Hadji and Kijaji in Central Java.______ Populat ion S t/ Hadji Kijaji. Principalities 4,074,462 1,556 0.04 5ÔT 0.01 Rest of Central Java, 10 965,580 2 7,8 6 2 0.2 5 4,1 6 0 0.04 Inlanders in the 1930 census. The percentage is the ratio of hadji/kijaji to the total population. For comparative figures in I887 and for the period between 1924 and 1940, see Sartono (1966:332, Appendix IV) and Statistisch Jaaroverzicht/lndisch Verslag respectively, A summary of the figures contained in the latter is found in Vredenbregt (1 9 6 2 ). ^In 'proper' Javanese, the name of the town should be either Kuta Gedé (Ngoko, or Low Speech Level) or Kita Ageng (Krama, or High Speech Level), in either case literally meaning 'Great or Big Town.' In current prac tice, however, the town is usually called Kotagedé, a combination of an === [PDF page 54] === 30 geographically and socially a distinct unit (see Map 2). The Gadjawong River, a tributary of the Opak River, makes a natural boundary between Jogjakarta and Kotagede and supplies abundant water for the irrigation of the rice and sugarcane fields which cover most of the flat lands in this area. The physical features of the town still reflect its l6th century history, when it served as the first seat of the kraton (court) of the Later Mataram Kingdom. Nowadays the geographic center of the town is not the kraton but a pasar, or market, said to be as old as the town itself. The market is not only physically large for a local town but is also a busy place visited by hundreds of people every day and by thousands on every Legi day in the Javanese 5-day week. It is no wonder that the town acquired the alternate name Pasargede (literally, a big market) at some time in Its history. To the south of the market lies a kamnong which bears the name Alun-Alun, referring to the open square adjacent t'o the court in the traditional plan of a Javanese court town, consonant with the original layout of the town. It is no longer an open space but a crowded residential area. Further south of the Alun-Alun, there are a few other remnants of the Later Mataram court. In a kampong which bears the name of Kedaton^ (a synonym of kraton, palace, in an older form of Javanese) there is an open space Indonesian word ’kota' and a Javanese word 'gedé*. This may be a reflec tion of the social linguistic situation of the town in which Indonesian is making an inroad into the Javanese world. For the sake of technical convenience, Javanese phonetic symbols will be omitted from most of the place names hereafter. ^Unstressed a and e_ sounds in Javanese are often interchangeable in speaking as well as in writing. For example, kedaton instead of kadaton, or penghulu instead of pgighulu. I have followed the local practice of Kotagede instead of Pigeaud's orthography. === [PDF page 55] === 31 ver TO a Pleted === [PDF page 56] === 32 Map 2. (cont'd) Rukun Kampong I. Telgalgendu II. Prenggan III. Alun-Alun IV. Purbaj an V. Basen VI. Gedongan VII. Pilahan VIII. Tinalan IX. Redjowinangun X, Gedungkuning Kalurahan A. Djagalan B. Singosaren C. Mutihan Buildings 1. Market 2. Livestock Market 3. Silver Mosque 4. Great Mosque (Pasarejan) 5. Watu Gilang/Watu Tjanteng Kotamadya/Kabupaten Boundaries Kemantren/Ketjamatan Boundaries Rukun Kampong/Kalurahan Boundaries Paved road Unpaved road V / / / A Residential area I I Farm land === [PDF page 57] === 33 which is believed to have been the former palace site. In the space there is a small building which contains a massive, glossy rock, Watu Gilang, ( 'Shining Stone' ) and two stone balls, Watu T.lanteng (lit., felon). The larger rock is said to have been the seat of Senopati, the founder of the Later Mataram, and the small balls, the ones Senopati used to play with as marbles. To the southwest of the market, still in the center of the town, lies an extensive graveyard compound for the royal family of the Later Mataram. The royal graveyard is called Pasarëjan (sarg in high Javanese speech means 'to sleep, to rest'. Pasargjan, as a noun, means a place where the dead eternally rest, cemetery). The Pasarëjan compound consists of four quarters, separated from each other by high brick walls pierced by gates of the Hindu- Javanese style. The first quarter is a front court with a pair of very old banyan trees, the older one of which (Waringin Sepuh, Ringin Tua) is said to have been planted by Sunan Kalidjaga, one of the nine legend ary Islamic saints to whom the early Islamization of Javanese kingdoms is attributed. The second quarter in Pasaréjan is Mesdjid Ageng Mataram (Great Mosque of Mataram), a huge wooden structure with an extensive yard. The third houses court officials of both Jogjakarta and Surakarta who jointly attend to the upkeep of the graveyard of the common ancestors of the Javanese principalities. Day and night these officials take turns guarding the graveyard and receiving visitors. The fourth quarter in Pasarëjan is one which contains a spring and a pond with two separate bathing places for men and women (Siliran). Along the three main roads running from the market to north, east and west and also in the neighborhoods behind these roads, there lie === [PDF page 58] === Map 3. Kota g e d ^; k ota vs desa desa desa RK Prenggan RK Basen Kotagede kota KL.Djagalan Alun-Alun R K Purbajan K otyogede j^ota j desa Kampong Djojopranan desa (KL. S i ng o s a r e n ) === [PDF page 59] === 35 business, workshop and residential areas, which make up the core of the town. The core area of about one square kilometer, which extends roughly 500 m in each cardinal direction from the market, is locally referred to as Kotagede rad.ja or Kotagede kota ( 'central' and 'urban Kotagede' respectively) in contrast to Kotagede dësa (rural Kotagede) which lies outside the core. Core Kotagede now comprises four Rukun Kampong (the neighborhood association, the smallest administrative unit in the urban areas) belonging to the m u n i c i p a l i t y of Jogjakarta, one Kalurahan (the rural administrative village) belonging to the Kabupaten (Regency) of Bantul, and a part of another Kalurahan also belonging to the Kabupatèn of Bantul (see Map 3). In spite of these administrative divisions, the complex of Kotagede kota is conceived of as a single social and physical entity by the townspeople themselves. In the following•pages, 'Kotagede' refers to Kotagede kota unless otherwise specified. Judging from legendary as well as documentary sources, it is almost certain that Kotagede has maintained its continuous existence over the period of some UOO years as a distinct Javanese town. Over this period, the town was first the seat of the capital of the Later Mataram, then the location of the royal grave compound, and finally the center of indigenous trade and industry. All these roles have been assigned by the larger society to this otherwise insignificant small town. However, the roles the town has played in history have helped shape its social structure and culture. Because of the presence of the royal graves, Kotagede acquired the === [PDF page 60] === 36 status of pakuntjèn dësa in the early days of the Later Mataram.^ Pakuntjèn désa meant a special category of village in which graves of Islamic saints or royal ancestors of the Later Mataram were found and which were placed under the administration of a special category of court officials, djurukunt.ji or ’keykeepers.* The djurukuntji were assigned the duties of upkeep of the graves as well as general adminis tration of the territory. The djurukuntji was awarded as appanage certain amounts of land and certain numbers of villagers by the rulers. There were some other categories of villages similar to the pakuntjèn désa in the state structure of Later Mataram. They included keputihan désa; keputihan means whiteness which symbolized the religious special ization of the village. Large pesantrên (religious schools) fell into this category. Also in the court to\ms and regency capitals, mosque officials were concentrated in special districts called pekauman ^During the Kartasura period (l68l-17T^)j the Pasarejan in Kotagede already seems to have acquired the status of a royal kramat (place with mystical power). The following is an excerpt from a local document narrating the riwajat (history, story) of the Pasarejan: "Once during the time when Sinuhun [synonym of Susuhunan] Amagkurat Amral (Amangkurat II, 1 6 7 7 -1 7 0 3 ) was governing the kingdom in Kartasura, the land suffered a shortage of food and many people were unable to eat. The Sinuhun was extremely disheartened and summoned his brother, Pangeran Puger. Pangeran Puger faced the Sinuhun, who said: 'If this situation goes on for long, I want to withdraw myself and kill myself. I am not strong enough to tolerate this. I cannot govern the land. I ought not to be respected by the people in the kingdom because I am an ignoble king.' Pangeran Puger answered: 'Please be patient. I will excuse myself from you and will ask God for His help. I want to visit the Pasaréjan Mataram [in Kotagede]....' Pangeran Puger, according to the riwajat, then changed into the clothes of a rustic santri (santri dusun) and visited the Pasaréjan with offerings. He bathed in the Gadjah Wong River, meditated under the Old Banyan Tree and prayed in the Mosque and in the Pasaréjan, staying overnight there. Next day, he went back to Kartasura and found on his way home that all the markets were full of inexpensive rice. (Martohastono n.d.:12-13) === [PDF page 61] === 37 (kaum, religious officials), or simply kauman. These urban pekauman were also included in the larger category of keputihan desa, and both were often referred to as perdikan désa, 'free village.' This meant the perdikan désa was exempted from land rent and soccage labor owed to the rulers in the rest of the realm. In return for tax exemption, these villages were to contribute to the religious well-being of the ruler and the state. To quote Moertono; "Protection and encouragement of religious life from older times on took the form of granting special rights to religious groups and communities. Usually gifts of land were distributed by the king to religious communi ties, not merely as a means of subsistence, but primarily so that they would be financially strong enough to perform their religious services satisfactorily for the welfare of the king and so of his realm." (1 9 6 8:8 3 ) Kotagede apparently already enjoyed the status of the pakuntjèn désa prior to the year 1755 when the realm of Later Mataram split into two principalities, the Susuhunanate of Surakarta (Solo) and the Sultanate of Jogjakarta (Jogja). The importance of Kotagede as tanah pusaka (tanah, territory, land; pusaka, heirloom with magical power) for the two principalities was such that they agreed to retain the Pasaréjan and the pasar there as their common possession. However, they divided the kampong and people in Kotagede to make equally matching sets of appanages which were then assigned to the two sets of djurukuntji officials appointed by the two courts. In some perdikan désa their 'free' status seems not only to have meant exemption from mundane duties for the state, but also to have implied that those religious communities stood outside the direct control of the state administration. This was partly due to the fact that the === [PDF page 62] === 38 status was a result of accommodation between the court and Islamic ele ments which, in the earlier days of the Later Mataram, often tended to present a direct threat to the power of the court. However, the case of Kotagede was quite different. The function of Kotagede as pakuntj en désa for the Javanese principalities was to provide constant religious legitimization for the courts. The upkeep of the Pasaréjan, ritual performed by the djurukuntji on behalf of the courts, proscriptions and duties imposed on the people in the town, legends and beliefs con stantly regenerated among the circles of djurukuntji and disseminated into the population, all of these made up the Kotagede version of Javanized Islam. In Kotagede, the Great Tradition of the Later Mataram was institutionally and ideologically interwoven with the Little Tradition of the wong tjilik, the common people. TRADITIONAL ADMINISTRATION There are some documentary as well as legendary sources which enable us to reconstruct the state of affairs which seems to have pre vailed in Kotagede until the early decades of this century.? The admin istration by djurukuntji officials existed in Kotagede until 1920 when the new kalurahan system was introduced. The djurukuntji was appointed by the adipati, or grand visier of the court, in the name of the Susu hunan (Solo) or Sultan (Jogja). From 1830 on, the appointment to a djurukuntji office was mostly hereditary, i.e., from father to son. ^The following description is mostly based on van Bevervoorde (1 9 0 5 ) and van Mook (1958), unless otherwise specified. === [PDF page 63] === 39 The number of djurukuntji officials seemed to vary from 6 to 8 for each of the Jogja and Solo territories in Kotagede. Among the djurukuntji corps, two for each of the two territories occupied the position of chief, or lurah djurukuntji. The chief djurukuntji was ranked as panewu in the Javanese officialdom and was given the title of Radèn or Mas in the Javanese aristocracy. All the djurukuntji were awarded appanages (lungguh) as stipends. The amount of land and the number of personal followers were specified. The djurukuntji, as patuh or appanageholder, was entitled to levy taxes on the people in this appanage. The tax was collected in the form of agricultural products, money, or labor. The kinds and amounts of the revenues which were directly owed the court were fixed by regulations but the appanage-holder was free to extract further revenues from the people under him to finance his office and household, and feed and clothe his personal followers. The business of tax collection- and labor conscription of a patuh was usually con tracted out to a bekel ( 'assistant' ) who was chosen from among the common people in the appanage. The bekel was responsible for delivering fixed amounts of various kinds of tax to his patuh but he was, in turn, free to exploit further the people under him. Both patuh and bekel were exempted from any kinds of taxation. The people in an appanage were classified in terms of the status of landholding. The kuli kentjeng, or kuli pokok, who had hereditary rights to use of house, house-site, and agricultural land if he was a farmer, formed the bulk of the population. The kuli kentjeng was liable for the payment of head tax and the performance of various labor services. The magersari, who had his own house, built on land belonging === [PDF page 64] === to someone else, most often a patuh or a bekel, became a personal follower of the latter. The pengindung, who had neither his own housesite nor house but lived in someone else's house, mostoften that of a patuh or bekel, also became his personal servant. In order to illustrate the rights and obligations of patuh in Kotagede, a free translation of the letter of appointment of the lurah djurukuntji in the Solo territory dated 1866 A.D. may be helpful: "Our Majesty Susuhunan Paku Buwana Senapati Ingalaga Ngabdurrahman Sajidin Panatagama grants a letter of appointment to Djimat Amad Dalem Resadipa as follows. Our Majesty [ingsun, the first person pronoun only to be used by a king or God], by issuing this letter, raises and makes him the lurah of Our subjects, djurukuntji in perdikan land of Kotagede and grants him a revocable transfer of rights to Our royal properties in the village of Katitang in the amount of one djung and one kupit of sawah land and rights to retain personal followers and coconut trees in Kotagede in the amount of 112 magersari, 17 pengindung and 400 trees in eight kampong and further rights to some portions of lands in the villages of Dodogan and Dringo. A certain portion of the market dues is also provided for him. He is also entitled to wear official uniforms which are restricted to the office-holder of the lurah djurukuntji. In return he is obligated to perform the services of providing ritual meals (ambeng) and mats for prayer meetings at the mosque on Thursday evenings and Fridays. He is also obligated to do the services of repairing the Pasaréjan, the Mosque, the waiting halls, and the gates in the royal graveyard complex if damage occurs to any of these. He is also obligated to provide food and drink when the royal messenger or other court dignitaries visit the Pasarejan. He, Mas Djimat Amad Dalem Resadipa, as well as the djurukuntji and the Mosque personnel should recite the Qur'an on the eve of every Friday, [i.e., Thursday evening] under the leadership of the penghulu, or Mosque director. They all should strictly observe the religion and correct any religious negligence among their subjects in Kotagede. Now that he is appointed to the position of the lurah djurukuntji, he should always be dedicated to the duties of his office, should earnestly observe religious obligations and avoid anything prohibited, should sin cerely pray to Allah for the firmness of magnificence and glory of Our Majesty, the Susuhunan, for the well-being === [PDF page 65] === of the Kraton as well as for the security of the State of Our Majesty, the Susuhunan. He should always conform to the proper standard for the conduct of the perdikan people and should not indulge in wrongdoing such as gambling, opium-smoking, deceiving, or having connections with criminals. Should any violation occur, his office shall certainly be revoked and calamity shall befall him. All the subjects under Mas Djimat Amad Delem Resadipa shall also comply with the prohibitions made known to him in this letter of appointment. Those who violate them shall be promptly arrested and punished. Our Majesty, the Susuhunan, also makes it known to all the subjects in Kotagede that should any of them be maltreated by local officials, he shall be authorized directly to appeal to Us by personally appearing in the front square of the court in Solo." (Latinized transcription of the above text is found in van Mook 1926a:395f.) Essential points which we can summarize from the letter are as follows: a) The ruler makes (gawé) a person a royal servant (abdi dalem) and a holder of a specific office. b) The appointee is allowed to use the name, title, and parapher nalia appropriate to the office. c) The ruler awards the appointee the right to a specific amount of land (agaduhan) in the possession of the ruler (kagungan ingsun) and allows him to extract income from it. d) The appointee is obliged to perform services for the ruler (njangga) of a general administrative nature as well as specific religious services in connection with the Pasaréjan. e) The ruler retains the rights to revoke (undur) the appoint ment if any violation occurs. === [PDF page 66] === One thing which also stands out clearly in the letter of appoint ment is that, from the viewpoint of the Kraton, the institution of Pasaréjan (royal, graveyard) was dedicated solely to the glorification of the Susuhunan and his state. Islam in this version was primarily a cult of royal glorification. Djurukuntji, Mosque personnel, and the entire population in Kotagede under them were all obligated to pray to Allah "for the firmness of magnificence and glory of the ruler, the well-being of his court, and the security of his state." Through the local administrative system, the entire population of Kotagede was mobilized to take part in the cult of royal glorification. This point is further illustrated by looking at the obligations which the bekel and the people under him had to perform for their patuh. van Bevervoorde's description written in 1905 is pertinent (van Bevervoorde 1 9 0 5: Chapter 6). These obligations may be divided into two categories: a) annual and b) intermittent or occasional. GAREBEG AND THE COURT CEREMONIES In the first category, we can include three annual occasions of Garebeg. The Garebeg was a composite of "national slametan, periodical ceremony for the prosperity of the court, and extension of well-known village slametan" formed out of the "combination of three national slametan with the ceremonies of Islamic holidays and the practice of the charity of the king (i.e., food distribution)" (Pigeaud 1932:27). The Garebeg was held three times a year on the 12th of Maulud (or Rabingulawal), on the first day of Sjawal, and on the 10th day of Besar (Dulkidjah) in the capital. Garebeg Maulud was to commemorate the Prophet Muhammad's birthday. A pair of royal gamelan (Javanese gong === [PDF page 67] === orchestra) named Kiai Sekati was played at the central mosque of the court from the 6th of Maulud for 6 continuous days and nights, giving the occasion its alternate name, Sekatèn. From the 1920*s the annual fair of the Jogja principality was held during the same period on Alun-Alun Lor (the main public square to the north of the royal place) and Garebeg Maulud became the largest court festival. The second Garebeg was referred to as Garebeg Puasa, for the ceremonial activities started in the month of Puasa, the Muslim fasting month before Sjawal. The third Garebeg coincided with Islamic holiday of Hadj (pilgrimage) in Mekka. On all three occasions, the entire corps of local officials of the court had to gather in the capital to participate in various ceremonies and rituals. The local officials went to the capital from the place of their appointment, accompanied by a procession of their bekel, con scripts and personal followers. In fact, the word di-garebeg in Javanese, the passive form of the verb ngarebeg, came to mean that "one is con scripted to accompany the Garebeg procession" (Pigeaud 1938:1^5), or simply "seized." The Garebeg included a royal audience given to court officials, the ruler's appearance before the public, a parade of royal palace troops, an exhibition of royal pusaka, royal prayers at the central mosque, and distribution of ritual meals provided by the ruler to the public (Groneman 1895, R. Soedjono 1931, Pigeaud 1932). During the earlier years of the Later Mataram, bupati (regents) in the mantja negara (outer territories) were required to come to pay personal homage to the ruler in the court with their retinues and conscripts carrying tributes due === [PDF page 68] === him on at least one of the three occasions, most often on Maulud (Selosoemardjan 1962:29)• For the hekel and the wong tjilik, the Gareheg was a period of labor service to the patuh. van Bevervoorde's monograph meticulously documents the obligations imposed upon the bekel and the people on these occasions (1905:101-109). On the Garebeg Maulud and the Garebeg Besar, all the bekel, each with a fixed number of conscripts, accom panied the patuh to the capital and stayed there until the ceremonies were over. The Garebeg Puasa was the most prolonged. Starting with the eve of the 21st of Puasa, on the eves of odd-numbered days of the last 10 days of the month, bekel and conscripts accompanied their patuh to the Great Mesdjid in Kotagede for the maleman. The maleman was the evening prayer with a ritual meal after sunset which signaled the end of the daytime fasting obligation. The preparation of the ritual meals and drinks for the patuh was also the responsibility of the conscripts. On different days of the Sjawal, the bekel was given an audience with the ruler, the crown prince, the grand vizier in the court, and the Dutch Governor-General. During the month of Ruwah, preceding the month of Puasa, the king sent his messengers to the Pasarejan in Kotagede for the ceremony of njadranan, offering to the deceased ancestors. On this occasion, the bekel and the conscripts also had to participate in the ceremony with their patuh. Ceremonial prayers were offered in the Great Mosque in Kotagede on the 26th of the month of Redjeb, which was called mikradan commemorating the Prophet Muhammad's ascension to Heaven, Mira'adji. The djurukuntji was also accompanied by the bekel and conscripts on this occasion. === [PDF page 69] === On the birth and accession days of the Sultan and the Crown Prince, labuhan offerings were made to Loro Kidul, the goddess of the South Ocean, guardian of the state of the Later Mataram. The bekel were also to join the procession led by the court officials to the mouth of the Progo River to throw the offerings for the goddess into the sea. These were the annual occasions on which the bekel and the con script had to accompany the patuh in the performance of their duties. In addition, there were intermittent occasions which required the services of the bekel and the conscript. These occasions included the death of the Sultan or the Crown Prince, the marriage and circumcision of sons and daughters of the patuh, as well as the upkeep and repair of the buildings in the Pasaréjan complex and patuh*s own residence. The patuh was also entitled to make use of the labor services of the people under him on other occasions broadly defined as "whenever he felt it necessary" (van Bevervoorde 1905:112). Before the abolition of the appanage system in 1920, there were in Kotagede altogether about 20 djurukuntji officials, all patuh, i.e., appanage-holders, and about 30 mosque personnel, some of them appanageholders, but most of them not. The lungguh, appanages of those patuh, were managed by about 100 bekel in all. There were about l800 kuli kentjeng. The ratio of patuh to bekel was one to two or three. A bekel, in turn, had about 20 kuli kentjeng under him (van Bevervoorde In sociological terms, the relationships linking the ruler, grand vizier, panewu, djurukuntji, bekel, kuli kentjeng, and pengindung mager sari were extremely particularistic. Each pair of immediate superior === [PDF page 70] === and the immediate inferior formed a relatively independent, autonomous unit, a master-servant relationship (cf. Moertono 1968;107f). I may even say that the traditional Javanese polity was based on an extremely well-developed form of the patron-client relationship. And Javanized (or more precisely, Mataramized) Islam was an ideology encapsulating these patron-client relationships; political subordination to the ruler/superior and religious subordination to Allah were mutually reinforcing and inseparable. RECOLLECTIONS Local informants who still remember the days when the abdi dalem djurukuntji was in the position of penggede (big man) describe their experiences as follows; "On Fridays the [djuruliuntji] officials, whose costumes looked like those of the people in Mekka, performed prayers in the Mesjid and then went into the royal grave compound and offered another prayer there- During the month of Puasa, the Mesdjid Kotagede was an extraordinarily active place. Before sunset, there were already many people present on the porch ( srambi) waiting for breaking of the fast, done by eating a bit of rice porridge together. Then the time for the Isja* prayer came and the tarawêh [joint prayer at night in the month of Puasa] was visited by an unusually large number of people. % e n the taraweh prayer was over, scores of children struck the large drum (bedug) so that its cannon-like sounds could be heard throughout the neighborhood. On Fridays [during the month of Puasa], the mosque was so full of people that there was no longer room for any more visitors. The porch was already crowded, and the pious and children wore new, clean clothes. •There were always some people from nearby villages who came fully dressed with metal buckles and jewelry, too. Before the sermon, I would always see some people who brought kampil, that is, a small bag made of palm leaves, containing copper or silver coins. These people walked around and bowed here and there among those who sat in lines and placed the coins on their prayer mats. === [PDF page 71] === The coins were of many kinds: half guilders, quarters, ten cents, five cents, two-and-a-half cents, and one cent. Among small children who gathered behind the adults, there were some who got seven-and-a-half cents or even fifteen cents. There were even one or two naughty ones who switched places to get the coins again. On the day of the 21st, 23rd, 25th, 27th and 29th, maleman was held in the front year of the mosque. At five-thirty in the evening, the notables in Kotagede came in solemnity bringing with them their own mats, lamps, spittoons, dishes of rice with side dishes, and their official parasols. When the time came to break the fast, they ate their meal by the light of kerosene lamps whose glass globes were clearly polished. As a small child, I roamed among the dishes of food which were spread around in the front year of the mosque. This was the religious situation around the mosque and the graveyard of Panembahan Senapati. (Rasjidi 1971:10-11). Another quotation from a local informant points up the fact that court ceremonies performed in the compound of the Mesdjid Ageng Mataram and the Pasarejan helped maintain the authority of the ruler. Also it is obvious that various local customs, adat, were an integral part of the Javanized version of Islam which encompassed both the ruler and the ruled:® Religion in Kotagede was very traditional. There were very few who actually took the religion earnestly. But custom, adat-istiadat, was also part of the religion and people simply followed it. For example, it was a tradition to perform a slemetan, kekah, on the seventh after a baby was born. This was already a deeply rooted tradition in Kotagede and everybody did it although nobody knew that the religion in fact taught us what to do on such an occasion. Marriage was the same. A mar riage had to be officiated at by a kaum or lebai. The next three informants spoke to me in what Kotagedeans call 'Bahasa tjampuran* (lit., mixed language), i.e., an admixture of Indonesian and Javanese, which is a common practice among elderly, educated men. === [PDF page 72] === Now it is through the KUA, Office of Religious Affairs, as you know. At that time, however, everything had to he validated (dis.jahkan) by kaum. Prayers were per formed only by kaum. Ordinary people (orang kampong) did not have to pray. It was enough if the fasting was done by kaum only. Ordinary people did not have to fast. Then zakat fitrah [religious taxes] were presented to kaum and religious teachers as tokens of appreciation. At that time those who controlled the government here were djurukuntji and Islamic tradition was quite strong. For example, when people wanted to play gamelan, they were not allowed to do so on Fridays. From four o ’clock on Thursday afternoon to the time when the noon prayer on Friday was over, nobody was allowed to play gamelan. This was a tradition which was not written down, but which was certainly in effect. Anyone who violated it would surely be prosecuted. In addition, every day between six o'clock in the evening, that is the time for Magrib prayer, until eight o ’clock, the time for Isja’, no gamelan should be played. So, for my parent’s and own generation, there was no such word as, Isja', but only "after Isja’" (bakda Isja*) indicating that the drum (bedug) was struck to announce the time when the Isja’ prayer was over, but not the time for Isja’. Nowadays the drum is struck to tell the time for Isja' as you know. However, in the old days in Kotagede, the drum was struck when the Isja’ prayer was over. It was to signal that people could start playing gamelan and perform other entertainments. The drum was struck to make people observe the custom and if anyone dared to violate the tradition, he would surely be punished (kuwalat) by Semar.^ ^The transcript from the tape of this phrase reads; "akan kuwalat pada jang Semaré." According to Pigeaud, kuwalat, a Javanese word, means "to be struck by the punishment of a higher power (on account of offence, sin." (Pigeaud 1938:215) The Dutch original is "getroffen door straf van hogere macht [wegens vergrijp, zonde"]). I missed the opportunity to ask the informant, a Muhammadijah elder, to clarify the significance of "Semar" in this context. If ray transcription is correct (the tape was regrettably erased) and if it refers to the wajang figure Semar, then the fact implies that Semar has (or had) a significant role in the sphere of moral conduct. It is interesting to note that the two-dimensional shape of the old kraton fortification of Kotagede is formed in the out line of Semar,a big round face on an extremely fat body, and is called Bèntèng Semar (Semar's Wall) by Kotagedeans. In their image, then, the Pasaréjan and other sacred places are located within the perimeters whose overall shape is that of Semar, who is "the most powerful of Gods,... a clown [punakawan], a man of the people, to whom the rules === [PDF page 73] === Another tradition concerns Hari Pon. Pon [of the Javanese five-day week] was the day when Panembahan Senapati was said to have died. So people did not want to start anything new on that day. For instance, they did not want to start weaving on Pon, but would just wait until the next day, Vagé. Marrying or going out from Kotagede for trade wouldn't be done on Pon. This is still practiced by many people although people don't mention it explicitly. For example, when the market days are held on Pon in a neighboring town such as Plered or Godean and people want to go there for trade, they don't leave here on the day of Pon but usually do so one day before, on Pahing. Still another informant who was active in the formative period of Muhammadijah in Kotagede relates his experience about how things were before the advent of Muhammadijah: In the month of Maulud, ritual dishes were prepared and neighbors were invited to come join a kendurèn (slametan) with the intention of sending prayers to gether to our Master Nabi Muhammad. For the month of Maulud, the ritual dish was sega wuduk [rice cooked with coconut milk] and a whole fried chicken called ingkung. In the month of Ruwah or Saban, a round cake, apem, was made and offered to the ancestors. On the 21st, 23rd, 25 th, 2Tth and 29th days of the month of Ramadhon, which were called maleman, we made ritual dishes and distributed them among neighbors. People observed all of these adat Islam until Muhammadijah became active. The Muhammadijah told the people that because these adat were not included in the teachings of Islam, they must be abandoned. However, the adat still had weight (berat), and some are practiced even now. I still sometimes receive apem in the month of Ruwah. It is believed that apem becomes a parasol in the afterworld (acherat) and our ancestors need it when the sun becomes very hot there. 9 (cont'd.) of satrya- (knights) behavior do not apply..." (Anderson 1965:22). If ny reading of the significance of this image and relevant concepts is correct, then a whole new dimension to the 'sacred geography' of Kotagede opens up. I also suspect that the Semar image is a crucial cor nerstone which holds Javanese mythology and adat Islam together. Further, it suggests a relationship between the ideological control of the ruler and the popular response to it. Unfortunately, my data at this moment are insufficient to pursue further this challenging subject. === [PDF page 74] === 50 In addition to these adat, there were many upatjara (ceremonies) performed in the Pasaréjan. When a member of the royal family of Solo died, the body was brought to Kotagede for a night and was then carried to Imogiri for burial. It was believed that if the body did not stay in Kotagede for à night, there would be another death in the Kraton. Abdi dalem, high as well as low, all joined the funeral procession. It was really ramé (crowded and lively) on this kind of occasion. The Sekatèn festival derived its name from gamelan Sekati. One week before the birthday of Nabi Muhammad, the gamelan was moved from the Kraton to the front yard of the Mesdjid Ageng [of Jogja] where it was played continuously for six days and six nights. Then on the birthday of Nabi Muhammad, there was a royal audience. All abdi dalem in the Jogjakarta sultanate, bupati and so forth, came to the Kraton to pay their respects to the Sultan. The palace troops also paraded on this day. There were many other ceremonies on this occasion, all of them to show respect to Nabi Muhammad, Leader of the Muslim community. In Kotagede there were some people who joined the palace guard, too. For example, I had an uncle who was a sergeant in the battalion named Patangpuluh (lit., Forty). There were many other battalions with different names. Each battalion had its own uniform with certain colors and designs. Each had about 100 troopers. My uncle was given one djung, or about 1/5 of a hectare of land for his salary. This was not a high salary. An ordinary soldier got only three rupiah a month. But the troopers were all content because they enjoyed high prestige. Once someone asked my uncle, 'Nhy are you satisfied with such a small salary? There is a business office (kantor) which can give you a much higher salary.' But he did not like to listen to such things. He answered, ’Well, this makes me able to enter the palace (dalem) and have access to the king. The comfort is not comparable to having a job in this or that kantor.’ I had another uncle whose son was a bit older than I. He was later sent to Digul [arrested as a participant in the abortive Communist uprising in 1926]. The uncle was also interested in becoming a palace guard trooper. Formerly the position of royal trooper was hereditary and passed from father to son, but gradually it became possible to buy the position. You could pay money and become an abdi dalem. That's how this uncle became an abdi dalem. I had another uncle, whose name was Bahuwinangun, father of Mr. Kasmat [a renowned Islamic politician in Jogja]. Pak Bahuwinangun was an abdi dalem in the Kraton of Jogja and he was very happy to be respected by people for his close ness to the king. [Sometime in the twenties, Bahuwinangun obtained a license from the Jogjakarta government to === [PDF page 75] === 51 operate a private pawnshop in Kotagede and became one of the richest men in the town, enjoying the nickname, Radja Dagang, Merchant King.] I could have become an abdi dalem in the same way if I had wanted to. But I Just didn't want to. It was only gengsi kosong ('empty prestige'). LEGENDS There were many other customs and legends which directly contributed to the aura of awe around the Pasaréjan as the locus of mystical powers and around the corps of abdi dalem who were in charge of maintaining this awe-inspiring institution. In the front court of the Pasaréjan complex is the Saringin Sepuh (Old Banyan Tree), said to have been planted by Sunan Kalidjaga before the rise of the Later Mataram kingdom to indicate the future location of its Kraton. The source of many legends, it was believed that the tree could portend approaching death in the royal families of Surakarta or Jogjakarta by shedding one of its branches. Leaves of the tree, two of them being put together back to back with a piece of its air-root, were used as djimat, or charms, to protect a Kotagedean travelling far from his native town (cf. van Mook 1958:28). The abdi dalem djurukuntji who sat on guard duty in the Pasaréjan complex reportedly witnessed many mysterious phenomena there. They often saw ghosts of the deceased royal families of Mataram passing freely through the high, thick walls that surround the cemetery. One of the radja buried in the cemetery even appeared once in the form of a wild tiger. The three adjoining mausolea in the cemetery which shelter the graves of the earliest members of the Later Mataram royalty were also a source of many legends. Shortly after these buildings were === [PDF page 76] === 52 first "built in the mid-lTth century, they were "burned down by a fire in spite of the fact that there was no source of fire there. The cause of the fire was popularly attributed to the very presence of the royal corpora buried there which, as a locus of mystical powers, self-heated and finally started a fire. (Kusudyarsono 1970:2. Also cf. Anderson [1972:8-9] for the 'heat * aspect of Power.) One of the buildings, named witana, houses the grave of the founder of the Later Mataram, Panembahan Senapati, and was believed to have had the mystical capacity to give predictions for impending misfortunes in the kingdom of the Later Mataram by discharging yellow-reddish smoke and flames from the top of the building. Some who still believe say that the most recent occurrence of this mystery was witnessed on the eve of October 1, 1965, the night before the eruption of the abortive 'G-30-S' coup. Some saw reddish smoke and flames and on the next day learned that the most tragic event in the history of post-independence Indonesia had taken place (Kusudyarsono, ibid.) Presently, in the pond of the bathing quarters (Siliran) in the Pasaréjan complex, whose water comes from a spring located at the foot of a cliff on which the royal cemetery is constructed, and which is thought by some to contain mystical power to cure various diseases, there are a pair of yellow turtles. The older one, named ati kang wening or ’pure heart' (implying that those who visit the place have to come there with a sacred and pure intention), is thought to be a messenger of Panembahan Senapati. Those who come to bathe in the water for curing often bring pieces of meat for the turtle; if it eats them with good appetite, it is thought that the feeder had done a favor for the royal messenger and that the chances of his receiving a favor in === [PDF page 77] === 53 return from the turtle's master, Panembahan, are thus enhanced. (As the newspaper excerpt quoted at the beginning of this chapter, the tradition of regarding a yellow turtle as a mystically potent creature still continues to this day.) At the foot of the same cliff, there is a stone altar onto which people who visit the place to obtain a share of mystical powers of Panembahan Senapati and his family members offer incense, petals of telasih or melati (jasmine) flowers, and sometimes a dish of ritual food before addressing requests for help to the spirits of the de ceased royalty. Until a few years ago, there was a woman dukun (magician) who lived in the kampong Dondongan in the front court of the Pasaréjan com plex for more than 50 years, who was often called upon by the people to help in communicating with Senapati et al. for a small fee. She is now too old and weak to continue the role (she is believed to be almost 100 years old) and nobody else has come forward to replace her. There were also many unwritten regulations of and restrictions on the conduct of the townspeople which were carefully observed, partly because they were followed as adat and partly because their violation was ultimately sanctioned by the power of the local authorities. The following will illustrate some of these. No vehicles except those from the Kraton were allowed to enter Kotagede across the bridge over the River Gadjah Wong. Those who came to Kotagede to visit the Pasaréjan or for private business had to abandon their vehicles at kampong Tagalgendu located right across the river to the west of it and walk another TOO meters on foot to reach the center === [PDF page 78] === of the town. This regulation was strictly enforced until the late 1910's. Another regulation concerned the height of buildings in the town. No private citizens were allowed to construct two-storied buildings lest people be able to look down in the Pasaréjan from them. This regulation remained in effect until the last few decades in spite of the fact that wealthy people in the town were quite capable of constructing such buildings and might well have done so in view of the land shortage in residential areas. A few of the rich, in fact, cunningly evaded the regulation by digging downward to build part of their houses underground for utilitarian as well as prestige purposes. Still another restriction, which is still in effect as adat and practiced by many, is that the townspeople should not place their feet in the direction of the Pasaréjan when they lie down to sleep, for to do so would be to show disrespect to the Mataram royalty in the graves. The djurukuntji officials were responsible for the maintenance of law and order as well as for the morals of the local people as indicated in the letter of appointment quoted above. The djurukuntji officials took every opportunity to remind the townspeople under their jurisdiction that they should not indulge in ma-lima or 'five vices.' The five vices included main or 'playing (gambling),' madat or 'smoking (opium),' maling or 'stealing,' madon or 'visiting a prostitute,' and minum or 'drinking (alcohol) Pigeaud's (1938;25U) list of the five vices shows a slightly different version: instead of maling or 'stealing,' mangani or 'overeating' is included. === [PDF page 79] === 55 All in all, the mystical power-laden Pasaréjan constituted the nucleus of the local society of Kotagede and the bulk of the population was directly involved in the functioning of this institution under the leadership and authority of the djurukuntji officials. The attitude of the local people to the Pasaréjan and its personnel was that of fear and obedience. As a local informant who gained high stature in the national Muhammad!jah movement put it: People here in Kotagede were afraid of the powers of the living as well as the dead. They feared the Dutch Governor and Resident in Jogja, the Sultan of Jogja and his Bupati, Wedana, and other officials. Field Police, local djurukuntji officials and even bekel. They feared Senapati and his family who were all already dead but who they believed to have mystical powers influencing the living. They feared certain trees, graves, stones, old houses, and even such a man-made thing as a bronze statue in front of the Governor's Residence in Jogja. They feared various sorts of ghosts who make noise, eat leftovers, appear at crossroads, or who roam in the market after dark, and many others. As a matter of fact, however, true Islamic teachings tell us that no one should be afraid of anything or anybody except Allah, the Almighty. ECONOMIC CHANGE This state of affairs, however, started to change gradually in the last few decades of the 19th century. The change in local and regional economy seemed to have had the most profound affect. Below, I want to try to trace the process of economic change and its social consequences. To begin with, it should be recognized that the administrative structures in Kotagede, which was based upon the appanage system, was itself the local economy. In theory, the ruler of the Later Mataram possessed all lands in his territory. The lands in the negari (the === [PDF page 80] === 56 capital city) and negara agung (the territory immediately surrounding the capital) were under his direct control. He had unlimited rights over the agricultural products and soccage labor of the peasant masses whose existence was solely dependent upon the ruler’s benevolence. The peasant masses, self-sufficient in their own economic life, were assigned the task of fulfilling the needs of the Kraton and its official dom. Some basic daily necessities which were not produced in agricul tural villages, such as iron and other metal tools, salt, clothes, earthenware, and fuel were acquired by peasants through the local market system. Otherwise, the state structure of the Later Mataram itself functioned as a huge redistributive system by siphoning up the economic surplus of the peasantry into the Kraton in the forms of taxes in kind and labor conscription, and redistributing these economic resources among the population in the forms of rewards for officialdom and court expenditures on festive occasions. After the early 19th century, when the Later Mataram surrendered rights over international and inter regional trade to the Dutch, the economy of the principalities was reduced to agrarian self-sufficiency. In the face of this forced retreat into an agrarian economy, Kotagede seems to have maintained it self as an indigenous commercial and industrial redoubt. The present inhabitants of Kotagede claim that their mode of live lihood has been non-agricultural for many generations; some say, since time immemorial. The majority conceive that their ancestors’ position in Later Mataram society was that of abdi dalem karja ( ’craftsmen in royal service' ) or court artisans (cf. Tedjo 1970:1%). These craftsmen seem to have been brought to Kotagede when the Kraton was set up there === [PDF page 81] === 57 to fulfill its needs. No information is available for us to visualize the mode of life of these royal craftsmen in the early days of Kotagede. However, certain names of the kampongs in Kotagede which have remained unchanged over the past several centuries suggest the variety of special izations which must have existed since the early period of the toim's history. To cite a few examples, Mranggen derives its name from mranggi or ‘kris-sheath making,’ Pandèjan from pandë or 'ironsmith,' Sajangan from sajang or ’copperware,’ Samakan from samak or ’leatherwork,' Kemasan from kemasan or 'goldsmith,' and Djagalan from djagal or 'slaughtering,' There are many local legends about those craftsmen who were endowed with particular skills in handicraft often inherited from their mystical ancestors or mystically acquired by themselves. Many traders were also reputed to have had extraordinary intelligence and knowledge in trade whose origin was also attributed to mystical sources. In this regard, too, Kotagede was considered a highly potent place. Kudusan, the name of a kampong located to the immediate northeast of the Mesdjid Ageng Mataram poses some questions. This is a location where a kampong named Kauman is usually found in other towns in Central Java. As mentioned earlier, Kauman derives its name from kaum or 'religious officials’ and indeed it is a residential quarter for those religious officials staffing the mosque and other religious institutions located in the mosque compound. However, in Kotagede there is no Kauman. Some local informants speculatethat the name Kudusan might have de rived from the town named Kudus on the north coast of Central Java, a town which was a center of trade and Islamic teaching prior to the rise of the Later Mataram, from which some early settlers of Kotagede may have originated. Some others state that the Kudusan in Kotagede took its name directly from the Arabic word kudus which means sacred ness or holiness and, in effect, denoted that the kampong specialized in religious affairs (the Great Mosque of îiataram and, in fact, the entire Pasaréjan complex are located in this kampong): an explanation which is not much different from the etymology of Kauman but may be a more archaic name for such a kampong. === [PDF page 82] === 58 Prom the beginning to the middle of the 19th century, the largest patrons of the Kotagede traders and craftsmen remained the principality courts and their officials. The courts and their officials constantly needed artifacts of extraordinary value (kris, swords, spears, gold and silver ornaments, jewels, fine furniture, musical instruments, carriages, and the like) as attributes of their Power (cf. Anderson 1972:12, 26, and passim). Kotagede was one of the places in which these things were traditionally produced. Production and distribution of popular com modities were of only secondary importance until the latter half of the 19th century. A local tradition says that, in 1825 when the Dipanegara War broke out, a large number of merchants and craftsmen who had been en gaged in business in Bringhardjo, the central market of the city of Jogjakarta, moved to Kotagede to take refuge in this sacred town. Some of them stayed on there even after the War was over. The local tradi tion sounds credible and that event may have given Kotagede an impetus to develop into a regional center of indigenous trade and industry. By the mid-19th century, the economic importance of Kotagede seemed to have superseded that of the central market in Jogjakarta city. In the 19th century literature, the town is more often called 'Pasar Gede' (Big Market) than 'Kuta Gede' or 'Kita Ageng' (Aardrijkskundig... 1 8 6 9, 11:279). But-a more decisive push towards economic prosperity in Kotagede seems to have been triggered by deeper penetrations of the Dutch colonial economy into the principality regions starting in the l850's. First, the colonial government and the principality authorities agreed === [PDF page 83] === 59 in the early l850*s to lift the prohibition on the leasing of agricul tural land by appanage-holders to European private enterprises and this opened the door to a massive entry of European capital into the regions (cf. Selosoemardjan 1962:262). One of the most profound con sequences of this new agrarian policy was that thereafter a gradual but irrevocable process of monetarization of the peasant economy was set in motion. The closed, self-sufficient agrarian economy of the principal ities came to an end. Second, the spread of European plantations in the regions required the improvement of transportation. Starting in the early l860's, the construction of a railway system connecting the fertile agricultural inlands of south Central Java and the major northern coastal cities got underway and was completed in i 8T3 (Furnivall 1937:20%). Especially significant was the line combining Semarang and the cities of Surakarta and Jogjakarta which "open[ed] up an area that was at once the most difficult of access and the most profitable center of plantations” (ibid.). The penetration of European plantations, especially those of sugar cultivation which required the use of rice fields and the attendant monetarization of the peasant economy, including the mode of tax-payment (van Bevervoorde 1905: Chapter 6), drastically changed the household economy of peasants in that they not only started to obtain cash incomes but also became increasingly dependent upon others for the supply of essential commodities for daily life. Statistics quoted by Furnivall (1937:217) indicate an abrupt jump in the imports of rice and cotton goods to Java in the first five years of the 1870*s, which he interprets === [PDF page 84] === 60 as a sign of "the sudden burst of prosperity" (ibid.) among Javanese peasants. This period of prosperity was, however, rather short and the fate of the Javanese peasantry thereafter took the course which Clifford Geertz has called "agricultural involution" (1 9 6 8 ). Towards the end of the 1 9 th century, the state of the peasant economy increasingly worsened and "the diminishing welfare of the natives" became a watchword among colonial policy-makers (Furnivall ibid.:2l6). The economy of the town of Kotagede itself, however, was tremen dously stimulated by these developments during the so-called 'Liberal Policy' period (1 8 7 0 -1 9 0 0 ). Kotagede proper had only a small amount of sawah (rice fields) in the southern end of its territory and these rice fields were prohibited by law from being leased out to European enterprises even after the new agrarian policy was adopted. The principality courts designated the entire territory of Kotagede (and several other areas of particularly traditional significance) as kedjawèn (lit. 'things Javanese' or exclusively Javanese) into which intrusions of foreign enterprises were strictly forbidden. But vast rural hinterlands surrounding Kotagede became deeply involved in sugar cultivation and this had a direct impact on the Kotagede economy. Indeed, Kotagede became the geographic center of what Geertz called "’inner’ Inner Indonesia" (1 9 6 8:7 %), the most 'involuted* area in Java characterized by "(l) more sawah, (2) more population, and (3) even though more of their sawah is [was] occupied by sugar, more rice pro duction than the non-sugar areas" (ibid.; 7%-75). The involution pro cess meant an absolute increase in population, which in turn meant an === [PDF page 85] === absolute increase in demands for goods and in purchasing power of the rural population. Two remarkable developments occurred in Kotagede in response to this altered situation in the rural economy. One was the emergence of a group of merchants who were specialized in the distribution of daily essentials for peasants, especially cotton goods. The other was the strengthening of the economic position of another group, Orang Kalang (or Wong Kalang), who had traditionally specialized in inter-regional transportation prior to the advent of railroads. The fact that the principality courts looked with disfavor on the entry of Chinese and other foreign Orientals into their territories in the latter decades of the 19 th century (cf. E.N.O.I., IV, 1921:627-628) seems to have encour aged the growth of these indigenous commercial groups. Unfortunately, I have so far failed to discover any 19th-century statistics indicating the kind and volume of indigenous trade and industry for the region of Jogjakarta or for the town of Kotagede. But van Bevervoorde's monograph includes an enumeration of the number of traders and craftsmen in Kotagede suggesting the scope and kind of economic activities developed in the town by the end of the 19th century. According to van Bevervoorde, among a total of 1773 erfbezitters or 'house-compound holders' (Kuli Kentjeng registered in Kotagede in the year-end of 1903, he found the following figures on economic speciali zation: === [PDF page 86] === 62 Table II-3. Economie specialization in Kotagede (1903 I. Trade 1. Jewelry and goldwork 13 2. Batik trade (wholesale and 13 large retailer) 3. Linen trade 2% U. Trade in small ornamentsand wares 6 5. Wax and dyewood trade 6 6. Rice and foodstuff trade 3 (wholesale and large retail) __ Total 65 II. Handicraft 1. Gold and silver workshop 82 2. Jewelry workshop 39 3. Tinsmith (Tukang Blèk) 23 %. Ironsmith 7 5. Batik workshop 38 Total 189 Since these figures represent the number of enterprises or work shops, the total number of people actually involved in these economic activities must have been much larger. What is remarkable about these figures is that the number of enterprises apparently serving the needs of peasant masses rather than those of the kratons occupies almost onehalf of the total number of enterprises in trade as well as in handi craft: at least %0 (37 in batik and linen trade plus 3 in foodstuffs) out of the total of 65 in trade and at least 68 (30 in tin and ironwork === [PDF page 87] === 63 plus 38 in batikking) out of I89 in handicraft. Obviously, Kotagede had changed from a town of court artisans (abdi dalem karja) to a 'people's market.' This also seems to have been reflected in the fact that the town came to be known widely by the Ngoko expression 'Pasar Gede' and even by the abbreviation 'Sargede.' 'Peken Ageng,' meaning the same thing in the Kromo, however, was seldom heard, van Bevervoorde also adds some descriptive statements on the magnitude of the economic activ ities carried on in Kotagede and their significance for the region of Jogjakarta and for Java in general. Some excerpts follow: In Pasargede, as already suggested by its name 'great market,' a very renowned market is indeed held on every Legi day; also warung (small stalls) in the market are selling things everyday but it is on Legi days that the market is most crowded by people visiting there. In the market of Pasargede, every day people buy and sell such ordinary goods as agricul tural products, prepared foods, drugs, fish, tobacco and salt; besides these, on Legi days, stamped kain (batiked clothes), iron and copper ware, especially copper dandang (rice cooker), kendil (another type of rice cooker), sickles, hoes, birds, charcoal, limes, and flowers for Pasaréjan are available... (ibid.:88). In Pasargede a great amount of trade is carried on in linen, batik, rice, gold and silverware and copperware, jewelry, wax and dyewood for batikking. All these goods are daily changing hands in great sums and one can say that Pasargede is the largest trading place in the entire region of the Residency of Jogjakarta.... Merchants from all over Java visit there every day and thé town is extremely lively.... If one wants to go to Jogja city [from Kotagede], the means of trans portation are always available in the desa of Tegalgendu just across the River Gadjah Wong. There, a horse-cart for extremely low tariff is found at any time [Unreadable] The industry of Pasargede is well known beyond the limits of Jogjakarta region and, above all, its gold and silverware has an extraordinary reputation all over Java. The work is alive with extreme refinement of form and original designs but some influence of European designs is recognizable. Representative articles include kris. === [PDF page 88] === kris heads, kris sheaths, kris rings, buckles, chains, earrings, rings, small dishes, lids, figurines, waist belts, rattles and the like.... (ibid.:93 -9 %)• van Bevervoorde also remarks on the wealth of some of these mer chants and craftsmen whose large stone and brick houses lined the main streets of the town. He mentions an interesting episode which he personally experienced. The episode indicates the extraordinary wealth of some of these merchants and craftsmen in Kotagede: In the early days of his tenure in Jogja, counterfeit five rupiah bank bills were circulated in the region of Central Java. In his capacity as the Assis tant Resident of Jogjakarta, he accompanied an investigating team of the Field Police to Kotagede for a house-to-house search to see if the counterfeit bills were also found in the town. In a rich merchant’s house, he came across a total of 3 5,0 0 0 guilders in bank bills stored in a tin can in which there were also several thousand coins in rix-dollars (ibid.:92). (In 1939» one guilder or rupiah was equivalent to U. S. UO cents. Cf. Kahin 1952:36). In view of the fact that the annual salary of the Lurah Djurukuntji, or the Chief Keykeeper of Kotagede, in money terms was only 6 l8 guilders in 1903 (van Bevervoorde 1905:170), we can see the extraordinary accumulation of wealth by some Kotage merchants. ORANG KALANG It was largely from among these wealthy inhabitants of Kotagede that the drive for a local reformist Muslim movement originated in the early decades of the next century. Since I shall describe this process === [PDF page 89] === 65 in detail in the following chapter, I want here to make only a brief remark on the Orang Kalang group. Their history since the late 19th century presents an interesting contrast to the mainstream of develop ments in Kotagede, indicating a different indigenous way of responding to a newly opened economic opportunities. Local legends say that the Orang Kalang were originally war cap tives brought back by Sultan Agung from his unsuccessful expedition to Bali in the early 17th century. They were also believed to be descend ants of a union between an ape and a princess so that they possessed ape-like tails. Until the 1920's, they were concentrated in the kampong of Tegalgendu on the west bank of the Gadjah Wong River and were not allowed to reside in Kotagede proper. Their name ’Orang Kalang’ (or ’Wong Kalang’ ) literally means ’Kalang People’ and probably derived from their peculiar, Hindu-Balinese type ritual, obong kalang. Obong kalang was a funeral ritual in which a paper figure representing the deceased person was ’cremated’ at intervals indicated by the Hindu-Balinese calendar while the actual corpse was buried in the ground following Muslim practice. As their professed religion, they followed Islam but the Orang Kalang practiced many other customs which looked quite strange to ’native’ Kotagedeans. For generations, a strong we-they consciousness existed between the two groups. Even now the Kalang descendants are 12 regarded as outsiders by many Kotagede asli (original, pure) people. Orang Kalang were also noted for endogamy within Tegalgendu. There 12In van Bevervoorde’s monograph, kampong Tegalgendu is not included in the "Pasar Gede Complex." At present, the kampong forms a Rukun Kampong in the Kemantren of Kotagede. === [PDF page 90] === 66 seems to have been, at most, only about 20 families of them in Tegalgendu in pre-war times. Therefore, almost all marriages were between cousins, including first cousins. Sometimes the Kalang people in Tegalgendu ex changed marriage partners with other Kalang groups living in similar 13 ghetto-like settlements in various places of Central and East Java. Before the administrative reform of the early 1920’s, there seems to have existed two sub-groups among the Kalang people in Tegalgendu: one belonging to the Surakarta Susuhunanate and the other to the Jog jakarta Sultanate. In the Solo part of the administrative apparatus, the head of the Solo sub-group of the Kalang People was given the position of mantri kalang. His duty was to provide and supervise carpentry services from his group for the repair of Pasaréjan buildings. The Jogja sub group traditionally specialized in transportation. The transportation of goods between Semarang and Jogjakarta was a monopoly of the group granted by the Jogja court. The Kalang People derived great advantages from the monetarization of the rural economy and the improvement of transportation. Sometime around the turn of the century, the Solo sub-group obtained licenses from the Surakarta court to open pawnshops in the region. Within a short period, they developed an extensive network of pawnshops bringing in a huge amount of profit. (Prior to this, they were probably already private money-lenders for peasants.) The Jogja sub-group was no less successful. 13 For what may be the earliest account of the Orang Kalang groups in Western literature, see Raffles (l8l7 (1965) 11:327-329). For more recent references, see Stutterheim (1935) and Adam (1938). I have based my description almost exclusively on local information. === [PDF page 91] === 67 They continued to specialize in transportation of goods utilizing all available means — trains, motor vehicles, and horses. They were even reputed to be the first 'natives' in Java to have acquired Rolls Royces. The enormity of the wealth the Kalang People accumulated is still easily recognizable by looking at about a dozen of their huge palace-like houses constructed during the earliest decades of this century. One of these houses, built in 1926 on the east bank of the Gadjah Wong River, has two garages for eight sedans and a stable for 20 horses besides an extremely extensive and gorgeous main building. A local tradition says that sometime around the World War I, an Orang Kalang family obtained such great wealth that they wanted to cover the floor of the central hall of their house with thousands of rix-dollars. Hearing about this, the Dutch Resident of Jogja was annoyed by the possibility that the face of Queen Wilhelmina on the coins would be repeatedly stepped on by the 'natives.' However, lacking any proper legal means with which to halt this attempt, he 'suggested' that the coins be placed in an upright posi tion rather than flat as originally intended. The family, immensely rich as they were, did not have enough coins to comply with the Resident’s 'suggestion' and were eventually forced to give up their attempt. The Kalang People thus lavishly displayed their fortunes. But, in one aspect, they were 'thrifty.* It was their idea that no money should be spent for education (Western), religion (Islam), and culture (Javanese). So they did not send their children to school, did not pay any religious taxes or contributions (zakat/fitrah), and did not sponsor wajang shows or gameIan performances. They also avoided involvements in politics. === [PDF page 92] === 68 They lived in an exclusive, pecuniary world of their own, surrounded by the envy, fear and hostility of the 'native' Kotagedeans. Theirs was an extreme case of abanganism in Kotagede. This indicates the fact that not all wealthy inhabitants became earnest Muslims. It may be interesting to note here some more recent developments about the Orang Kalang group. When the Dutch invaded the Jogja region in 19%8-%9 (Second Clash), most of the Kalang People in Tegalgendu re mained ’neutral' in the military conflict and took refuge in Jogja and other large cities under the Dutch occupation. This act was inter preted as pro-Dutch by Kotagedeans, whose majority was vehemently anti- Dutch. During a brief political hiatus prior to the official transfer of Jogjakarta into Republican hands, many Kotagedeans ransacked the Kalang houses and took away their treasures, furniture, and everything valuable, leaving only the buildings intact. Some nouveaux riches in Kotagede are rumored to have been among the successful looters of the Kalang treasures at that time. Partly because of this incident, most Kalang families did not return to Kotagede. They are now living in Jogja, Solo and other major cities of Java, Although most of their houses in Kotagede are still in their possession, they are left uninhabited or are only being looked after by 'guards' who are allowed to live there free. Without appropriate upkeep, the houses are slowly decaying. The Kalang People's economic prosperity was, however, not hampered by the Revolution and independence. They are still enonnously rich. They own and control a large portion of the busing and trucking, as well as fuel business in Central Java. They are also still active in money-lending. In spite of the government prohibition on private pawn shops in effect since I960 (cf. Hadiwardjono 1972), their pawnshop network has survived in the disguised form of cooperatives, a branch of which is found in almost every ketjamatan (sub-district) capital of the former territory of the Surakarta Susuhunanate and in some parts of the Special Region of Jogjakarta. My brief experiences with them will suffice to indicate their present affluence. I visited the main office of the pawnshop 'cooperative' located in Gondomanan, a business district, of the city of Jogjakarta. I was astonished to find there innumerable bundles of worn-out, small bank bills, one rupiahs, 2 -1 / 2 rupiahs, 5 rupiahs, 1 0 rupiahs, piled up on the dests of the half-dozen clerks who were busily working on accounting. The scene was comparable only to that of the Jogja branch office of the Bank Negara Indonesia 19%6, the National Bank of Indonesia. When my family and I first moved into Kotagede, we stayed temporarily in a wing of a palace-like house owned by one of the Kalang families who is involved in the transportation business mentioned above. One day our landlady visited us and, in the course of conversation, nonchalantly took from her brassiere a large almond-sized diamond mounted on a thick 2 %-karat gold ring and asked if we were interested in buying it. === [PDF page 93] === 69 ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM To resume the study of socio-economic developments in Kotagede, the administrative reform of the late 1 9 1 0 's and the early 1 9 2 0 's and the con tinuous prosperity of Kotagede economy through the 1930's constitute the two major developments of the period. I shall describe these developments in this and the next sections and discuss their implications for the emer gence of the Muhammadijah movement over the same period in the last section of this chapter. The drastic change in Dutch colonial policy for the entire East Indies during the early decades of this century is known as the 'Ethical Policy' in that ethical considerations for the welfare of the indigenous lU (Cont'd.) She said, "This costs only 2,000 U.S. dollars because the stone is from Kalimantan [Indonesian Borneo] and of low quality and the cutting design is already old-fashioned." My wife and I were dumbfounded for a moment but eventually managed to mumble that our entire fieldwork budget for a year would be wiped out if we were to buy it. She put the diamond ring back into her brassiere with an expression of apparent disbelief, thinking perhaps, "Is there such a being as a poor Japanese student sent from an American University?" In the large city setting, the Orang Kalang's exclusiveness has been somewhat loosened now. They now marry with non-Kalang people and send their children to school, especially to prestigious schools. They still stay away from politics. Most of them stopped practicing the Obong Kalang ritual and dropped many other customs once specific to them. In terms of religion, they are no longer homogeneously abangan. Some of them are now taking Islam seriously. In recent years, three of their houses in Kotagede have been donated to Islamic institutions as wakaf (donation to a religious foundation), one for Muslim schools and another for a house for the aged. A few of them have even been to Mekka for pilgrimage and have adopted the title of hadji and Arabic names. impression is that the process of Islamization is finally encroaching upon this enclave of abanganism. === [PDF page 94] === population were the primary justification for the policy change. 15 It also brought various radical reforms in the field of administration and politics in the Javanese principalities. To the new breed of Dutch colonial administrators who were inspired by Ethical Policy ideals, the Javanese principality authorities loomed as obstacles to such reforms and as impediments standing directly "in the path of a healthy develop ment of the land and the people," who had been overburdened by various particularistic taxes an<? unpaid labor services with frequent instances of "utterly appalling abuses" of power by the indigenous authorities (van Mook 1958;3l8f). As a result, in implementing the reforms in the principalities along the lines of the Ethical Policy, the Dutch colonial government discarded its indirect approach and took "direct action" to introduce "drastic reforms" (ibid.). By 1 9 0 9, guidelines for reform in the principalities were well delineated in S. de Graff's Hervormingsplan voor de Javaansche vorstenlanden (Reform plan for the Javanese principalities), which included "the abolition of the appanage system and the bekel-ships, formation of native village municipalities ([Inlandsche dorpsgemeente], regulation and reinforcement of the land rights of the people, reformation of the system of taxation" (van Mook 1958:321). By 1 9 1 8, implementation of The best general work on the Ethical Policy and its consequences still seems to be Furnivall (1939:Chapters 8 through 11). For a brief but insightful overview on subsequent reactions and even reverse trends, especially after the Communist uprisings of 1926-27, and indeed for a superb overview of the last %0 years of the Dutch colonial rule in Indonesia, see Benda (1 9 6 6 ). For the Dutch reform in the Javanese principalities, see "Vorstenlanden" in Encyclopaedie van Hederlandsch Oost-India, IV (1921), 6 2 6 -6 3 6. Also for the last matter, many articles written by Dutch administrators in the principalities which appeared in the Koloniaal Tijdschrift in the twenties and thirties are directly relevant. === [PDF page 95] === 71 the reform plan in all of the principalities was almost completed except for some places including Kotagede, where the former territories of the principalities overlapped and laborious negotiations were necessary. Finally, by the mid-1920's, these places also underwent reform. Since the implementation of the reform in Kotagede is meticulously documented by van Mook (1958:32U-331), it is not necessary to dwell on it here at length. Instead, I want to insert here a word of caution about the danger of taking the Ethical reform at its face value. Ideological embellishments aside, the Ethical reform was in large part an inevitable response to the socio-economic changes the Liberal Policy entailed in the late 19th century. From the viewpoint of Dutch sugar plantations, the appanage system and bekelship were increasingly regarded as extraneous in terms of 'economic rationality.' At the begin ning, the utilization of the traditional administrative system certainly facilitated the smooth introduction of sugar cultivation into the princi pality regions. However, the particularistic duties which cultivators continued to owe to indigenous authorities often interfered with the efficient mobilization of rural labor for plantations. The peasantry thus became doubly burdened with services for its traditional superior and for the new economic power. Frequent peasant unrest arising from this situation took the form of sabotage, arson of sugarcane fields, and strikes, resulting in annoying losses on the part of sugar enterprises. The appanage system was actually 'an impediment standing directly in the path of a healtlyr development of colonial capitalism.' The reform of the tax system was also not so much a drastically new policy as a formal recognition and standardization of what had adready === [PDF page 96] === 72 been happening. According to van Bevervoorde (1905: Chapter 6), the col lection of land and head taxes in cash was already a widespread practice by the end of the 19th century. The patuh and bekel happily accepted the monetarization of these taxes for it would assure them of cash incomes regardless of harvest fluctuation, and bookkeeping was also much easier. A more truly innovative element in the Dutch reform was the intro duction of the kalurahan system. It meant a transformation of the political structure from one based on the principle of personal ties to one based on the principle of territoriality. The traditional structure consisted of a series of personal dyads formed between the ruler and the patuh, the patuh and the bekel, and the bekel and the peasant. The kalurahan system was founded on an entirely new principle that all inhabitants of a certain area of land were endowed with universally defined rights and duties. However, as we shall see below, the Dutch reform failed to effect this innovation in Kotagede- These cautions should not be taken to suggest that the Dutch reform was without effect. It directly influenced the lives of the people in Kotagede in many ways. Several immediate as well as enduring changes de rived from the formation of kalurahan and from the legal recognition of individual property rights. Although the effect was at first indirect, the reform also brought a decisive change into the relationship between the townspeople and the Pasaréjan institution. Kalurahan: The abolition of the appanage system entailed the re moval of ramified personal ties that had bound the townspeople to the patuh, appanage-holders. Formerly, the administration of the town (which meant, in concrete terms, mobilization of labor services for ceremonial === [PDF page 97] === 73 and public works, collection of taxes in money and kind, maintenance of law and order) was composed of particular dyadic clusters of patuh, bekel, and wong tjilik. These clusters often ignored territorial groupings. Consequently, it frequently happened that a natural kampong and its people would be divided into two parts belonging one to the Solo and the other to the Jogja patuh. No less frequently in the same Solo or Jogja kampong, neighbors belonged to different patuh or bekel who imposed different kinds of obligations. The new kalurahan (or dorpsgemeente in Dutch) was formed on the basis of a single, solid and continuous territorial unit disregarding the former allegiances of the people in the territory. This required the merging of former bekel-ships and also the exchange of former bekel-ships between the two principalities. In the end, six kalurahan were formed in 1920, four of them belonging to the Jogja Sultanate and two belonging to the Solo Susuhunate. Each kalurahan consisted of two to ten kampong with from 700 to 1,500 people apiece. The kalurahan became a legal personality, with communal resources such as its own cash funds, lands, and buildings. It exercised regulatory power over the land transactions taking place in its territory. The kalurahan had one lurah (chief), one tjarik (secretary), one kamituwa (vice-chief, also in charge of economic affairs), two kebajan (messengers), one kaum (religious official), and one ulu-ulu (irrigation supervisor).^^ ^^The kaum's position was somewhat ambivalent; he was a member of the kalu rahan administration but also was under the supervision of the naib, the sub-district religious official, and was the lowest part of the semiindependent religious bureaucracy. In addition to one official kalurahan kaum, each kampong often had its own informal kaum or modin who took care === [PDF page 98] === The lurah was elected "by the villagers from a list of candidates previously approved by the wedana (district chief) and formally appointed to the office by the patih, grand vizier, of either the Solo or the Jogja court. The rest of the village officials, also elected by the villagers, 17 were confirmed by the bupati (regent) rather than by the patih. No limits were set upon the term of these offices and, once elected and appointed, an official (in theory) could occupy the position for the rest of his life. Villagers who had the status of house- and compoundbolder s formed the village council in which important decisions concerning village life, ^ c h as the allocation of communal village resources, were made. Most of the newly created kalurahan offices were occupied by former bekel. Those former bekel who failed in their bids for office were given compensations for the loss of their share of revenue in the pre-reform period; those who had previously had rice-fields under their jurisdiction obtained pension fields for the rest of their lives; those who had had a share of cash revenues received pensions in money from the treasuries of the courts. Of the approximately 100 pre-kalurahan bekel, about half did not get into the new kalurahan administration and received compensation instead (van Mook 1958:327). 16 (cont’d.) of adat Islam rituals other than marriage and divorce, which required for mal registration by the kalurahan kaum at the naib's office. In the four urban kalurahan without rice-fields, the office of ulu-ulu was absent. It was found only in the two southern kalurahan where rice-fields existed in considerable numbers. 17 This information on the procedure of selecting village officials is based on my interview with elderly Kotagedeans, and differs slightly from van Nook’s information (1958:32%). === [PDF page 99] === 75 The new kalurahan in Kotagede, especially those in urban residential areas without rice-fields, suffered several drawbacks from the outset. The kalurahan office did not have an aura of authority deriving from the sharing of royal power. The lurah was, after all, primus inter pares and was unable to go much further than the limit of consensus among his fellow villagers. The salary of the office (ranging from ^ 30 a month for lurah to ^ 10 a month for dj agabaj a ) was not enough to attract talented Kotagedeans who were otherwise making good incomes from trade or craft. Former bekel who were assured of pensions greater than the lurah's salary found no reason to bother with the new office. Therefore, the kalurahan offices soon came to be occupied by second-rank former bekel. The lurah had a modicum of kahurmatan (respect or honor) but no kakuwaosan (power or political authority). The majority of well-to-do people avoided the kalurahan administration. Characteristically, none of the former appanage-holders entered the kalurahan administration in spite of the fact that they had been residents of Kotagede for many generations. In their view, the kalurahan was the business of wong tjilik from whom they should stay aloof. Instead, the former appanage-holders preferred to seek higher positions in the corps of pangrêh pradja (civil services) of the principalities or to provide higher education for their children which would enable them to become free professionals. Having neither authority nor support, the kalurahan offices were unstable..During the 25 years of their existence between 1921 and 19%6, the lurah in the four urban Kotagede kalurahan changed 3 to 5 times for an average length of term of 5 to 7 years. Already in 1926, van Mook feared that the rural kalurahan system === [PDF page 100] === 76 imposed upon the urban sector of Kotagede might fail. As an alternative, he suggested that an urban community or municipality (stadsgemeente ) with a municipal council (gemeenteraad), which had already been established in many urban areas of Java, might be desirable for urban Kotagede. He expected that the emerging indigenous middle class there would assume the initiative in forming this urban community and take up its leadership (van Mook 1958:312, 327-331). van Mook's expectation, however, did not materialize. Why did he fail? For the answer to this question, I will later come to the problem of 'community' (or gemeente) vs. 'coramunitas' in Victor Turner's sense (Turner 1969: Chapters 3 and %), To anticipate, the Kotagede 'middle class' was not so much interested in forming a 'community' as a 'commuaitas.' The two southern kalurahan developed differently. Almost one-half of the rice fields in these kalurahan was set aside as land for kalurahan of ficials, of which one-half was awarded to the lurah for the period of his incumbency and the other half was divided among other village officials on the same basis. Here the former bekel fought each other fiercely to get elected to the kalurahan offices. And once elected, they became the largest tuan tanah (landlords) in the village although what they held were usage rights de jure in land rather than rights of ownership. However, by renting out the official fields to landless villagers or by way of sharecropping, the village officials, especially the lurah, were able to accumu late enormous wealth within a relatively short period. The wealth was in turn converted into more land by purchasing the land rights of small === [PDF page 101] === 77 holders or acquiring lands as security for money lent. Individual Property Rights; The second aspect of the Dutch reforms which directly influenced Kotagede society was the recognition of indi vidual rights in land. In the course of kalurahan formation, a detailed land survey, map-making, and land-holding registrations were also carried out. At the beginning this meant only that individual rights of landholding would he protected. In the course of time, however, the concept of individual land ownership developed and many lands changed hands for reasons other than inheritance. Many wealthy people purchased lands and The Dutch reforms in the 1910's aimed at legal recognition of individual rights to land-holding as well as prohibition of the alienation of the right in monetary transactions. However, in reality, the reforms marked the gradual development of individual Iand-ownership and concentration of lands in the hands of a small segment of the population. This fact is often overlooked by students of current land tenure in Java, probably be cause the present official statistics do not categorize village official lands as ’private land' although there is little difference between pri vately owned land and that at the disposal of village officials. My per sonal observations and cursory reading of land registration books in a southern rural kalurahan in Kotagede suggest that the lurah and other village officials are not only the largest land-holders but also the largest land-owners in the village. The office lands are either rented out or are cultivated by sharecroppers. And the wealth thus accumulated has then been reinvested to purchase more private lands. This leverage effect of the office land and the consequent fierce competition for office have not been studied at all. Since 19^5, the development of this 'bureaucratic landlordism' seems to have been the most conspicuous and, in the long run, the most funda mental change in Javanese rural society. An otherwise very stimulating study by Lyon (1970) on land conflicts in Java also overlooks the problem of office land. As to the 'sharedpoverty' pattern observed by Geertz (l956:lU0-lUl; 1963:97), the pattern seems to persist only among the landless peasants and small onners whereas the village official/tuan tanah (landlord) segment stands aloof from these poor -masses. Interestingly enough, these official lands in my area are still referred to as 'lungguh,' a term which was used for the appanage land in the pre-reform period with the meaning of 'land which an official is entitled to sit on and live off of.' === [PDF page 102] === 78 houses as a means of preserving their wealth. 19 The right of individual landholding seems to have developed into that of ownership as early as the 1 9 2 0 's. This facilitated differential accumulation of wealth in the 20 form of land and buildings among the townspeople. Reformist Muslims took advantage of the new situation and began to follow sjarlah (Islamic law) rather than adat in the inheritance and division of properties. This change in the legal notion and practice had yet another significant consequence. Some rich merchants attracted to the Muhammadijah movement started buying lands and buildings which they then donated for exclu sively religious use (diwakafkan), i.e., for langgar, mosque, school, clinic, etc. Since there was no state law in the pre-war period to recognize these wakaf (religious foundation) properties as a special category of corporate property exempted from taxation, the ownership of these properties remained registered in the name of the donor who was held 21 responsible for the payment of property tax. Nevertheless, the wakaf 19 I have obtained almost complete information on the official land regis tration in the town from 1952 to the present, a period in which purchasing, selling, and mortgaging of lands have finally been legalized. The infor mation indicates that already in 1952 there was a marked tendency towards concentration of land in the hands of a few wealthy people in the town. Of course, there has also been the opposite tendency of land fragmentation because of the adat practice of equal inheritance among siblings. 20 The radja dagang, Pak Bahuwinangun mentioned above, is said to have once owned more than fifty houses in the city of Jogja and some twenty in Kota gede at the peak of his prosperity in the pawnshop business. Some of his houses, both in Jogja and Kotagede, are still in the hands of his descen dants and bring considerable rental income to them. ^^nder the new government regulations, all wakaf properties of an Islamic organization like Muhammadijah, if properly registered at the local Reli gious Affairs Office as well as at the regional land registration office, currently enjoy corporate property status and are exempted from property tax. === [PDF page 103] === 79 practice became more widespread in Kotagede from the early 1920's on and formed the material basis for voluntary Islamic organizations centering around the Muhammadijah movement. The new enthusiasm for wakaf culmi nated in the construction of a new mosque in the late 1930's in addition and in contrast to the already existing century-old Mesdjid Ageng Matarama in the town. Besides scores of wealthy merchants, many hundreds of townspeople contributed money, labor and skills toward the construction of the new mosque. It was completed in 1939 and named 'Mesdjid Perak' (silver Mosque) marking the economic prosperity of the town in the djaman pérak, or silver period, and the religious enthusiasm of the time. I shall deal with the development of the new mosque in more detail in the next chapter. Pasarëjan; The third significant consequence of the Dutch reforms was that affecting the Pasaréjan institution. The abdi dalem djurujuntji and other lesser offices for the maintenance of the royal cemetery com plex continued to exist but now they were completely severed from local administration. The officials lost appanage lands,taxes and labor ser vices from the local populace, receiving instead fixed salaries from the principality courts. The townspeople were no longer institutionally obligated to contribute money or service to the maintenance of the Pasa réjan. The Pasaréjan, however, persisted as the locus of royal ancestral veneration and the center of Javanese popular belief in mystical power. Nevertheless, deprived of the administrative authority to rule the towns people and of the institutional apparatus with which to tap local re sources, the power, prestige and wealth of the djurukuntji officials drastically declined. In the local conception, kasektèn (mystical power) === [PDF page 104] === 80 was separated from kakuwaosan (political authority). Townspeople other than the Pasaréjan officials who now continued to take part in the tradi tional ceremonies and rituals centering around the Pasaréjan were doing so of their own choice. In this new situation, the position of the Mesdjid Ageng Mataram became extremely delicate. In the case of the royal cemetery proper and other historical remnants of the early Mataram court, the principality courts could place a full claim on their ownership and control. But the Great Mosque had been simultaneously royal property for court rituals and ceremonies on the one hand, and the holy place for the adat Islam of ordinary townspeople in Kotagede on the other hand. The latter's religious orientation, starting in the 1910's, gradually shifted toward the ortho doxy and fundamentalism advocated by Muhammadi jah. In the twenties and thirties, the rift between the two religious orientations became explicit and the Great Mosque became the focus ofone of the most bitterly fought battles between the principality authorities and reformist Muslims in Kotagede. (For details, see the next chapter.) Reflecting the above-mentioned conflict, a cleavage between the officials who were directly in charge of theMosque (penghulu, ketib, etc.) and those who were exclusivelyin charge of the royal cemetery (djuru kuntji) developed and widened. The Mosque officials continued to receive salaries from the courts, but they were locals in origin and on the whole went along with the changing religious orientation of the townspeople and retained a place in the religious leadership in the town, while the djurukuntji officials were less and less respected. This process was accelerated by the fact that now anybody could become djurukuntji if he === [PDF page 105] === 81 so desired. An aspirant for the office had only to register himself on the waiting list for appointment and could start assuming apprenticeship 22 (magang) at once without receiving an emolument. When the last generation of hereditary djurukuntji had died or retired, most of their sons did not want to take over their fathers' positions; they preferred to enter the ordinary civil service corps (pangrêh pradja) or other professions. In the course of time, therefore, the majority of djurukuntji were volunteers. PROSPERITY OF KOTAGEDE ECONOMY For those Kotagedeans who were horn and grew up in the last UO years of the Djaman Belanda (the period of the Dutch Rule), the period is re membered as one of continuous economic prosperity. The period is further divided into two: the first, some 20 years, ca. 1900-1920, is called djaman batik or the batik period, and the next 20 years, ca. 1920-19^0, djaman perak or the silver period. The periodization indicates that trade and industry in batik and silver peaked during these periods. The indige nous periodization and memory seem to be supported by other evidence. 22 For a discussion of the magang as a traditional system of recruitment to the royal servant or civil service corps, see Soemarsaid Moertono (1 9 6 8:9 5 ) and Selosoemardjan (1962:118). This system is still in practice at least in the Jogja region. For instance, in the kemantrèn (ward) office of Kotagede, there are nine fully tenured officials and six magang (apprentices). A magang, usually a graduate of either BMP (junior high) or SMA (senior high) and related to or personally connected with one of the tenured officials, works with his ’master' official as his personal assistant, doing messenger jobs or simple clerical work. The magang does not receive a salary from the city government, on whose payroll he does not appear. Yet his work is essential for the smooth running of his master's work. He may be given a used uniform of a civil servant plus a small allowance from his master's own pocket. After two, three or some times even five years of magang-ship, the master official will manage to put his apprentice in an off:’cially tenured position in his office or somewhere else. By then, the apprentice is supposed to have learned the manual of the civil servant and the practice of obedience to his immediate superior. === [PDF page 106] === 82 According to Furnivall, the import of cotton goods into Java between the years 1900 and 1925 jumped by more than eight times in value and, if corrected by price index, by about four times in volume (1939:339). The rate of increase was, of course, much higher than that of population growth- Most of those cotton goods were eventually processed as batik and other traditional clothing for mass consumption. Kotagede's share in this batik trade and industry seems to have been considerable. According to de Kat Angelino, who surveyed batik workshops in Jogja and its vicinity in 1927, l4 out of the total of 169 workshops 23 in operation in that year were located in Kotagede (1930, 11:177)* From what Kotagede informants say, the position of Kotagede seems to have been more important than de Kat Angelino's statistics suggest because major wholesalers of materials for the batik industry, viz. kembrik (cam brics), dyes, and wax, were concentrated in Kotagede. A Kotagede merchant even obtained from the government a license to monopolize the import of cambrics into Central Java. An informant, who himself engaged in the trade of batik retail during this trade, describes the boom period as follows: de Kat Angelino indicates (see Table II-U below), that the batik industry was in decline since the end of World War I. Specifically, the share of indigenous capital in the business was being replaced by Chinese capital. His report was submitted in part to obtain basic data for the government to figure out remedies. In the 1927 total of Jogja workshops, 20 were in Chinese hands. Table II-U. Batik workshops and workers in Jogjakarta (1920-1924). Years 1920 1921 1922 1923 1924 Workshops 212 207 166 129 147 Workers 3,428 2,389 1,539 979 1,6 3 6 Source: de Kat Angelino (1930, 11:176-177). === [PDF page 107] === 83 Everybody who had capital rushed into batikking and the sale of batik. Batik workshops mushroomed everywhere. Even those who did not have money were not left behind. They were easily able to find jobs as laborers (tenaga). More often, those who did not have money but who were strong, diligent, and trustworthy got an advancement of batik cloth from wholesalers and peddled from market to market, from village to village. Some of them soon became rich enough to set up their own enterprises (perusahaan). The years during World War I were perhaps the peak of batik produc tion because of the availability of cheaper cambrics from Japan which now outsold European cambrics, the import of which was hampered bythe War. Mass consumption of batik increased as a result. During this per iod, batik kasar (batik cloth of low-quality cambric with simple, stampedon designs in contrast to batik halus, good-quality cambric with handdrawn designs) seems to have become one of the basic items of popular consumption. van Mook's article includes the following statistics on the occupa tions of Kotagedeans in 1922. The statistics indicate a greater degree of diversification in the economic activities of the townspeople than van Bevervoorde's of about two decades previous (cf. Table II-3 above). Despite some deficiencies, van Mook’s statistics convey valuable information. First of all, it can be seen that, over the two decades (ca. 1 9 OO-I9 2 0 ), production and trade in batik and other cloth occupied the leading position in the Kotagede economy. In 1922, those craftsmen 2k van Mook's statistics are not exactly comparable to van Bevervoorde's, which cover the entire Kotagede territory but does not present a complete picture of its occupational composition. The latter only enumerates enterprises and workshops, not individuals, van Mook, on the other hand, failed to obtain figures from the entire Kotagede territory, covering only four of the six kalurahan but giving a complete picture of occupa tional composition of all house-compound holders. As for the remaining two kalurahan (Djagalan and Singosaren), the former had almost no farm === [PDF page 108] === 84 CO 00 r 0\ cl ot I— [Unreadable] 03 [Unreadable] 4) *1-3 -=J- CO UN o UN VO M 03 CO CO CVJ o CO [Unreadable] [Unreadable] I I •H ir\ UN UN VO CVJ H CO 1 [Unreadable] O in 4) [Unreadable] CO o CO F *H a 43 43 o qO II I a b 4-1 O a to X3 bO p H <U 4 h -H mom « 4) 43 ■p p a Ha O rH a 4h a >» a [Unreadable] === [PDF page 109] === 85 [Unreadable] —1 VO o [Unreadable] (—1 VO o [Unreadable] on -a- O O I—1 H b - UN CO bO a % a cQ S rH 1— I CM O On CO [Unreadable] I 1 SI S'» § i g g 1 II^ I I bO bO === [PDF page 110] === 86 {and women) who engaged in "hatik-making, cloth-dyeing, and cloth-printing (t.1ap, stamping)" constituted the single largest occupational group with 220 individuals or 20.5% of the 1,073 house-compound holders. The num ber of large wholesalers in cloth was also considerable (l20 individuals or 11.2%). Taken together, almost one-third (31.7%) of the total number of house-compound holders was involved in trade or production of batik or other cotton goods. The period certainly deserves its name, djaman batik. The second point to be observed in van Mook's figures is that the number of individuals whom he put together into the category of the "wealthier inhabitants" (Category II) is significantly large (211 indi viduals or 19.75%)• A third point is that the "traditional industry" of Kotagede, i.e., production and trade in gold, silver, and jewelry, maintained itself 2k (Continued) lands and resembled Prenggan and Sajangan (Alun-Alun) in its socio economic character as an 'urban* district. The latter, Singosaren, had a significant number of irrigated rice fields and, like Mutihan, was half 'rural.' The total number of house-compound holders in these two kalura han must have amounted to 6 0 0. The category of the 'house-compound holder' needs explication. It is erfsbezitter in Dutch and is equivalent to kuli kentjeng in the indigenous category. It meant a 'full' citizen who had hereditary rights of use to house-compound, house-building, and, in the case of rural kalurahan, farm land. Also, he enjoyed the right to participate fully in the kalurahan administration. There were a considerable number of indi viduals who were excluded from this category. They were formerly magersari or pengindung, and their status remained that of 'half citizen even after the administrative reform. Full political rights regardless of property status were accorded to them only after World War II. My esti mate is that, at the time of van Mook's survey, there must have been at least 250 families or about 1,200 individuals who were still in this category of half-citizenship. All in all, I estimate that, in the early 1 9 2 0 's, the total number of the families in both categories was about 1,9 0 0 and the total population was slightly less than 9,000 in the entire territory of Kotagede. === [PDF page 111] === 87 through this period probably with a slight decrease in the number of individuals involved in it. A fourth, more general point is that the economic bases of the in habitants in the three kalurahan represented in van Mook's statistics (Prenggan, Basen and Sajangan) were almost completely non-agricultural. Trade and industry were the source of livelihood for those people re siding there. A fifth general observation is that there was a significant degree of diversification among kalurahan in terms of economic specialization as well as of wealth or the level of economic well-being. Prenggan was the most prosperous with 36% of its house-compound holders in the category of the "wealthier inhabitants." Basen was the kampong of tukang (crafts men) who constituted almost 8 0 % of the total house-compound holders there. Sajangan (Alun-Alun) was conspicuous for the predominance of independent batik-makers, small traders and shop-owners. (Sajangan [Alun-Alun] was the cradle of the Muhammadi jah movement; Basen, the Com munist stronghold; and Prenggan, the contested area between the two. This pattern continued well into the post-World War II period.) Both contemporary literature and my informants suggest that, in the early decades of this century, the trade networks centering around Kota gede merchants extended far beyond the region of Central Java, including Batavia, Djakarta, Tjirebon, and Purwokerto to the west, Pekalongan and Semarang to the north, and Surakarta, Madiun, Kediri, and Surabaja to the east. (Cf. van Mook 1958:288; de Kat Angelino 1930, 111:57). Local informants say that 'Kampong Mataram' one of which is found in almost all of the cities mentioned above and in many other smaller urban centers === [PDF page 112] === 88 in Java, were inhabited by those who originated from the Mataram area (Jogjakarta and Surakarta), and Kotagedeans made up a great portion of them. Those rantau (migrant, wandering) Kotagedeans maintained close business contacts and personal connections with those in their home town, de Kat Angelino's report on the batik trade of Tulung Agung (a southern town on the Kediri plain) supports this assertion: the'inlanders* who were operating 25 batik workshops out of the total of 38 found in the town in 1930 were mostly 'Wong Mataram' (Mataramese) originating from Kotagede and Jogjakarta city, and came to settle there about 25 years ago. (de Kat Angelino 1930, 111:56-57). This period was also the time when four or five of the richest mer chants of Kotagede were given the nickname of 'Radja Dagang' or 'Ratu Dagang,' Merchant King or Merchant Queen, by the local populace. A lady merchant who controlled a large portion of the supply of secondary crops from the Kediri plain to the Jogja region was one such Merchant Queen. The textile wholesaler who was given the monopoly on the import of cam bric was a Merchant King. To sum up, as van Mook witnessed, Kotagede in the early 1920's was a "prosperous Javanese town" as it "has long been and now is in essence" (1958:331). By the mid-1920's, however, the Javanese batik industry seems to have entered into a period of stagnation or even decline. Purnivall points out that the imports of rice and cotton goods after 1913 remained sta tionary compared to "a quite astounding increase" between 1900 and 1913 (1939:40l). He continues that those "figures for imports of goods con sumed by the Natives tend therefore to confirm the general result of the === [PDF page 113] === 89 welfare surveys [by the Government in the 1910•s and 1920's], that, despite all that had been attempted for the well-being of the people, they were rather worse off in 1930than 1913" (ibid.). The batik industry was extremely sensitive to the fluctuation in mass purchasing power, and when the latter stagnated, the former followed it. The intrusion of Chinese into the business also occurred towards the end of the 1920's. (Cf. de Kat Angelino, ibid.). Thus the djaman batik came to an end. But Kotagedeans found a way of avoiding economic retrogression: the rejuve nation and transformation of their traditional craft, silver work, into an industry. The ’silver period’ opened up with the rise of Dutch interest in purchasing silverware. From the late 1910's, Dutch personnel and their families in the sugar factory of Plered developed an interest in the indigenous silver work of Kotagede. As a consequence, the silversmiths in Kotagede extended their repertory to include Western-styled utensils with Javanese designs. Interest in Kotagede silver spread into the European community in Jogja, whose population rose to about 5,600 accord ing to the 1930 census. By the 1930's, Kotagede was well-known among the European population of the Dutch East Indies as one of the most 25 attractive tourist spots in Central Java. Both Dutch and Javanese authorities were eager to give encouragement to the development of the silver industry in Kotagede. Silversmiths of Kotagede participated in trade fairs held in Java and overseas (e.g.. 25 For an overview of the development of silver industry in Kotagede, see Tedjo Susilo (1971). For its artistic aspect, see Jasper and Pringadi (1927, IV). === [PDF page 114] === 90 Semarang 1914, Jogja annual fair from 1926 on. World Fair in Amsterdam 1 9 3 6?, Pan-Pacific Fair in Nagoya, Japan, 1938?). In the mid-1920's, an association for the promotion of the indigenous silver industry, Pakarjan Ngajokjakarta (Craftsmen's Association of Jogjakarta), was estab lished at the instigation of Ethical Policy-minded government offi cials. The Jogja kraton gave it a subsidy of ^ 1,500 annually. In the Association, the position of Kotagede silver entrepreneurs (djuragan perak) was predominant. Partly thanks to government tutelage and partly due to the immediate need to meet the rising demands for silver products, a small number of djuragan perak in Kotagede introduced specialization into the production process in the late 1910's. Formerly one single tukang perak (silver smith), assisted by one or two magang (apprentices) worked on the silver article through the entire process of production, from the melting of a silver bar to the final stage of chiseling and polishing. With the introduction of specialization, the whole production process was divided into four or five parts, and different craftsmen took charge of dif ferent parts under the general supervision of a master craftsman or a djuragan himself. The practice quickly spread throughout the local industry. This innovation markedly improved productivity and also con tributed to the absorption of a larger number of semi- and unskilled workers into the silver industry in spite of the fact that no new sources of inanimate energy were brought in. By the early 1920's, the largest silver enterprises were employing a total of 50 full-time workers and smaller ones employed from five to ten, (Cf. Tedjo ibid.:33). The peak of the djaman perak came between the years 1935 and 1938. During this period, 25,000 kilograms of silver were annually processed === [PDF page 115] === 91 by TO silver enterprises constantly employing about 1,400 workers. CRepublik Indonesia XII, n.d.:T2l). This boom was partly due to the sudden increase in sales to the Dutch. In these years, with the approaching signs of a new European War, many Dutch government officials and private citizens returned to their home country. One of the prized souvenirs of their sojourn in the Oriental colony was silverware from Kotagede. Aside from this temporary cause for the boom, the economic well being of the Indonesian population through the 1930's was not much dif ferent from the 1920's. Those who engaged in trading and manufacturing were even invigorated to some degree. This may sound strange in view of the fact that the damaging effects of the Depression of 1929 were felt worldwide and tropical colonies of the Western powers were the hardest hit. Dutch colonial statistics obviously indicate this. However, through interview, I came to realize that the Depression of the year of 1929 did not mark any turning-point in the life of Kotagede elders. Rather, they say that they were continuously prosperous through the 1930's. The above-mentioned, particularly local effect of the increase in silver pro duction might have been one of the reasons for this 'rosy' picture of the 1930's. However, more generally, I suspect that the damaging effects of the Depression were in many ways cushioned by structural factors within the 'plural' or 'dual* economy. For example, government restric tions on international trade invigorated intra-Dutch East Indies trade and indigenous traders were the primary beneficiaries of this measure. Also, government encouragements to local manufacturing contributed both to the growth of indigenous capital and to greater employment. (Cf. Furnivall 1939: Chapter XII. Also cf. Sisten n.d.). === [PDF page 116] === 92 Thus, when the Indonesian nationalist journalist Parada Harahap made a personal tour of inspection to investigate Indonesia's potential for economic independence in 1939-40, he was pleased to find that indig enous trade and industry were thriving almost everywhere he visited. Specifically in Kotagede where he interviewed a group of 'Radja-radja Wang' (Kings of Money), he proudly reports, "So numerous buildings and such beautiful houses in Jogja now are mostly the property of Kotagedeans. Here, like in Kudus, we can actually count by fingers and say that it is Indonesians who are holding the number one position." (Harahap 1952:139). In Kotagede, prosperity was not only confined to 'Kings of Money'. Local informants invariably testify that life in the 1930's was quite comfortable; even the 'have-nots' (orang jang tidak punja or orang tidak berada) could earn enough to eat and clothe themselves properly. This statement sounds reasonable in view of the fact that the starting wage of an unskilled worker in a silver workshop was ^ 0.35 aud the highest wage of a skilled tukang perak was ^ 1, 5 0 per diem when one kilogram of rice was bought at only ^ 0.05 (cf. Tedjo 1971:30). SOCIAL CONSEQUENCES OF ECONOMIC PROSPERITY The continuous growth of the Kotagede economy from the late 19th century through the 1930*s and the Dutch Reform of the 1910's and 1920's entailed profound consequences for the social structure of Kotagede. The most fundamental was the decline of the djurukuntji and the rise of the entrepreneurs. The two processes crossed each other sometime in the 1920's. === [PDF page 117] === 93 The djurukuntjis' status derived from the fact that they were directly appointed hy the Sultan or the Susuhunan, the ultimate source and the living embodiment of Power in terms of the Javanese political tradi tion (cf. Anderson 1972). The djurukuntjis' personal power and status were also enhanced by their ritual activities as keepers of the Pasaréjan, a reservoir of Power to which even the living rulers had to pay regular visits of homage in order to get recharged with Power therefrom. Tra ditionally, in terms of economy, too, the djurukuntji stood at the top of the local economy because they were granted prerogatives by the ruler to control manpower and lands in the territory from which they were permitted to extract as much as they could. As Anderson has put it, "in the Java nese political tradition, wealth necessarily follows Power, not Power wealth" (1 9 7 2:4l). Certainly in the original form of the appanage system, a large number of followers and various forms of wealth were assured the djurukuntji insofar*as they shared in royal power. However, the penetra tion of the colonial monetary economy into the principalities brought irreversibly disjunctive forces into this once unitary system of power, status and wealth with the result that the djurukuntji retained some power and status for a time, but soon lost wealth. Already in van Bevervoorde's times, instances of enormous ac cumulât ion of wealth among some merchants in Kotagede were noted. Within the next few decades (ca. 1910-1930), these few instances grew into a well-established social group. In van Mook's statistics of 1922, we have already noticed that the number of the "wealthier inhabitants" rose to 20% of the total number of house-compound holders (Category II in Table II-5 above). More than a statistical category, they formed a closely knit ingroup connected === [PDF page 118] === 94 by kinship, marriage and business partnership. Kotagede now had radja dagang as well as abdi dalem. In terms of wealth, abdi dalem djurukuntji were no longer able to match radja dagang. Accordingly, as van Mook has observed, in Kotagede in 1926 "the administrative officials have much less influence there than elsewhere, especially when they are not wellto-do. It is often difficult, and financially disastrous, for them to keep up with the wealthier inhabitants of Kuta Gede" (1958:287). Some of the wealthiest merchants of Kotagede even became the creditors of the Kraton in Jogja and Solo (ibid.:288). The economic superiority of wealthy merchants in Kotagede went handin-hand with the elevation of their social status. Some of them obtained princesses from the Kraton as wives for their sons. Although they were never fully accepted into the rank of nobility, wealthier Kotagede mer chants were nevertheless often included as equals in the social circles of the nobility and among the high-ranking officials of the principalities. Selosoemardjan has found evidence of frequent contacts for the trans action of trade in gold, silver, and jewelry between wealthy Kotagede merchants and wives of Jogja court officials who otherwise rarely mingled with commoners (Selosoemardjan 1962:119).^^ 26 In Kartini's times (the last decade of the 19th century), it was impossible for prijaji women to engage in any kind of money-making. Even the vocational training of women, which Kartini advocated as the first step leading to the eventual economic independence and social emancipation of (prijaji) women, had to overcome many traditional resistances before it was realized in the next decade. In the 1920*s and 1930’s, however, not only vocational training but also even certain kinds of commercial and industrial activities seem to have been accepted among the younger generation of prijaji wives. Contemporary literature on the women's movement in this period often mentions the leading role of the association named Wanito Utomo of Jogja in this regard. (Cf. Indisch Vrouwen- Jaarboek, Dept. v. 0. en E. 1932, and Siti Marijam 1948). Wanito Utomo seems to have been a sister organization of the Budi Utomo, an association === [PDF page 119] === 95 Success in business and elevation in social status contributed to the development of a special kind of attitude among the wealthy merchants of Kotagede whom van Mook has characterized in such terms as "selfreliance" (zelf-standigheid), "level-headed frankness" (bezadigde vrijmoedigheid), and "absence of obsequiousness" (onderdanigheid).an attitude which was quite unusual to find in the principalities (van Mook 1958:288; 313). As mentioned earlier, there were some elderly wealthy merchants who endeavored to convert their wealth into power and status in traditional terms by buying noble titles and honorary offices in the Kraton govern ment. It was an irony of history that, at the very time when wealth eanbled a person of common origin to acquire a position in the tradi tional power structure of Jogja society, the traditional structure was already hollowed out from within and was given a final death blow by the Ethical Reform. The majority of the wealthy merchants, however, remained rather indifferent to the prestige deriving from the Kraton. This is understandable in that they were richer than many prijaji and were even able to control the Kraton dapur (lit. kitchen, finance). They could see no reason for feeling inferior to the prijaji. 26 (continued). of younger and lesser prijaji. Wanito Utomo, as a major part of their activities, set up and ran many workshops in batikking, dress-making, basket-knitting, and other handicrafts and organized the sale of those products. Indeed, in this period, even the Kraton Solo and Kraton Jogja became extensively engaged in various business enterprises. I know no more than what was mentioned above about the Kotagede merchants' associ ation with these prijaji businesses, but I suspect that there must have been much closer cooperation than Selosoemardjan has suggested, like joint investments, participation in management, and technical super vision. === [PDF page 120] === 96 Self-confidence, indifference to the superfluous way of life inside the Kraton, and a longing for a moral and religious justification for their mercantile way of life seemed to have created among Kotagede entre preneurs a general condition in which the proponents of reformist move ments would find an enthusiastic audience. I shall discuss in the follow ing chapter how external stimuli in this and other directions were received in Kotagede and how local responses to them were formed during the period between 1 900 and 1940. === [PDF page 121] === CHAPTER III THE DEVELOPMENT OP MUILUÎMADIJAÎÎ: LOCAL INITIATIVES AND OUTSIDE STII^ULI "Let there be one group of you who call (people) to good, who urge (them) towards virtuous conduct and restrain (them) from evil deeds. Those are the ones who prosper." ^ (The Qur'an, Surah Ali 'Imran:104(lOO)). "Less talk, more work!" (Sedikit bit.jara, banjak bekerdja!) In this chapter I want to trace the development of the Muhammadijah movement in Kotagede from its genesis in the 1910's to its full growth towards the end of the Dutch rule in 19^1. Social, economic and political changes in Kotagede from the late 19th century through the early decades of this century, which I have tried to show in the preceding chapter, were such that they had profound bearing on the religious life of the towns people as well. Indeed, prior to the advent of Muhammad ijah, local English translation is mine based on the Indonesian version of this verse quoted in Statuten dan Qa'idah Moehammadijah (1938:66), which reads as follows: "Hendaklah kamu mengadakan segolongan daripada kamu jang mengadjak kepada kebadjikan, jang memerintahkan kepada perbuatan baik dan mentjegah perbuatan jang djahat. Orang-orang jang demikian itulah jang berbahagia." Arberry's translation of this verse (1956, 1:8?. The House of Imran, 100) differs from the Indonesian interpretation in one important point and is, therefore, not quoted here. For more on this problem, see the following discussion in this chapter. 97 === [PDF page 122] === 98 initiatives for a reformist movement were already undertaken. Even if there had heen no Muhammadijah’s organizational efforts coming from the city of Jogja, a similar reformist movement would have found fertile soil for growth in Kotagede. In the actual course of history, Muhammadijah was the one which became prominent among Kotagedeans. Being located close to the city of Jogja, Kotagedeans had been exposed to various political and religious movements spreading from the city. Those movements provided many choices for Kotagedeans. Towards the end of the 1930's, however, it became clear that a sizable number of Kotagedeans made the choice of Muhammadijah. The major purpose of this chapter is to describe the pro cess of this choice. Aside from historical description, I want to make several points of argument in this chapter. The points are as follows: (a) The Muhammadijah movement was originated as a religious, not political or social, movement. The role of religious specialists (ulama/kijaji) was critical in the movement. They articulated the reform ideology and action. Many of them came from the religious bureaucracy of the principalities. (b) The urban 'middle class' provided a responsive audience for those reform protagonists. However, the movement was not a mechanical coalition of the two elements. Followers of the movement among the urban middle class underwent an ideological and ritual transformation, or 'conversion'. The movement was not a religiously colored expression of bourgeois inter ests. (c) The relationship between the first generation of the Muhammadi- Jah movement and Egyptian reformists (Abduh and Ridla) was indirect. It was only through the second generation, sons of the founding generation, that Muhammad ijah established a direct contact with the Middle Eastern reformist movement centered at the University of Al-Azhar of Cairo. === [PDF page 123] === 99 (d) The role of youth in the movement was prominent. The youth provided the élan and were the cutting edge of the movement. This may he explained in terms of the particular role of youth (pemuda) in Javanese society (cf. Anderson 1972:1-15)* (e) The active participation of women made the move ment distinct from traditional Islamic associations. The movement pro vided a religious sanction for the predominant role of women in the house hold economy and in the education of children. It enhanced the position of wives vis-à-vis their husbands. (f) The movement was also distinctive for its apolitical character. This is explained in the particular notion of ummat (religious community) the movement developed. The ummat is not an ideal social or political order to be attained in the future but it is a religious reality which can be and is created here and now by the ritual action of individuals under any political or social circumstances. It is an immediate negation of the existent social order including one’s social self. I will further delineate these points as I unfold the chronological development of the MuhammadiJah movement in the following. RELIGIOUS TENSION IN THE PRINCIPALITIES Before focusing on the local scene in Kotagede, two sorts of pre liminary considerations seem to be in order. One is the universal problem of the inherent tension in Islam between institutionalized orthodoxy and personal devotion. The other is the specific problem of religious con flicts in the principalities around the turn of the century. As Clive Kessler has recently argued in his paper on the religious and political behavior of Malay Muslim peasants (1972), universalistic religions like Islam revolve around an inherent tension between morality and reality. === [PDF page 124] === 100 "Earthly, sinning and self-seeking humanity is urged into spirituality, purity and altruism, and, caught up in these antinomies and their attendant tensions, each believer must decide for himself how best the good life may be lived in this world (and salvation assured in the next)" (ibid.:33). Kessler goes on to point out that Islam, which is thought to be equipped with a comprehensive political and social theory, in fact pre sents not so much an exceptional or special case as an extreme, "revealingly accentuated form" (ibid.) of the tensions between religious morality and social experience. The history of Muslim societies can be seen as a process of repeated flashes between the institutionalized orthodoxy tied up with and supported by the established political authority and the aspiration for genuine morality represented by independent ulema and their popular followers. The role of Sufism as a persistent countercurrent against the established orthodoxy attests to this development. In Java Islamized kingdoms faced these conflicts from the outset. Such events as the heterodox teaching of Sunan Djenar ('There exists nothing but God’) and his eventual execution by Wali, repeated military campaigns by the Mataram rulers to crush Muslim learning centers on the north coast, the massacre of 'six thousand "priests" and their families’ by Sunan Amangkurat I in Plered can be regarded as instances of deep conflicts between the moral and political order in the newly Muslimized society. Up to the defeat of the Javanese in the Dipanegara War powerful and victorious rulers could claim that the very fact of their power was in disputable evidence of the blessings of Allah as well as of Hindu-Javanese deities. The rulers were able to boast of their power by adopting titles === [PDF page 125] === 101 indicating that they were Nail (Paku) or Sustainer (Hamengku) of the universe (Buwana) or the World (Alam) and at the same time Merciful Master (Ahdurrachman Sajidin) and Regulator of the Religion (Panatagama) of Islam. Their boasting had been enhanced by the subjugation of the reli gious bureaucracy under them as a state apparatus specialized in the glorification of the rulership and in the maintenance of moral order among the populace. After the Dipanegara War, however, it became increasingly difficult for the Javanese rulers to maintain their claim that the blessings of Allah and the deities were still upon them. The social reality of colonial domination gradually undermined their mystical aura (Power) as well as their mundane powers before the popular eyes. In this situation a resort to an Islamic justification for the rulership was double-edged. It might inspire a popular challenge to the rulers in the same Islamic idioms. It might also invite the suspicion of the Dutch overlord who feared 'Mohammadan fanatics’. Among the ruling group itself, the crisis of the traditional rulership was keenly felt. As Mangkunegara IV (18 5 T-I8 8 1 ) of Surakarta confessed in his piwulung (moral instruction), Serat Wedatama, the disparity between moral and political order was acute. He writes that when he was young he was attracted to the learning of Islamic teaching but when he was summoned by the King for His service, he was at a loss: "Which should I put more weight on, God (Allah) or King (Gusti)? I did not know what to do" (translated in INDONESIA, No. lU, October 1972:171). === [PDF page 126] === 102 Mangkunegara IV eventually decided to "put more weight on" Gusti (King) and recommended that his children follow his choice. He justifies his choice in the Serat hy saying that he is after all a prijaji, a descendant of Javanese satrya (knights), whose traditional task is to provide care (momonganj and food (pagan) for the people of Java, the land blessed by Loro Kidul. Had he been a descendant of the kaum (religious specialist), singular devotion to God would have been appropriate. But, for prijaji like him, "just a little bit is already enough" (satitik baé wus tjukup) when following the way of Qur'anic teachers (guru-aleman) (ibid.:l68). Serat Wedatama is one of many examples which show that in the course of the 19 th century serving God (ngabdi Allah) was no longer regarded homologous to serving the King (ngabdi Gusti). For a proper understanding of these ideological conflicts in the 1 9 th century, the ethico-religious literature written and circulated among kraton circles in this period seems an indispensable source of information. Scholarly efforts to make this literature available to the Western public have been under way for some time. But, due to tremendous linguistic difficulties involved in the task, the progress has been understandably slow. So far I have done a hasty reading of only a fraction of the literature: Serat Tjentini (Soebardi 1971 and Rasjidi 1956), Serat Dermagandul (Drewes I966 and Rasjidi 196?) and Serat Gatolotjo (Rasjidi 1967; also cf. Drewes I9 6 6 ). It is premature to formulate a view on the basis of this limited reading. But I may be allowed to raise one issue about the framework of interpre tation. === [PDF page 127] === 103 Dutch scholars tend to regard these works as an indication of the fundamental incompatibility between the Hindu-Javanese tradition and that of Islam. The title of Drewes' paper, "The struggle between Javanism and Islam as illustrated by Serat Dermagandul" (I9 6 6 ), is a good illustration of their view. When the two supposedly incompatible ideological elements happen to be found in a state of peaceful coexistence, then the fact is attributed to the mental state of the Javanese in the good old days when they tolerated "an uncritical unity of contraries" (Berg 1932:255). Referring to the work of Ranggawarsita, "the last great court poet and court scholar" of the 19th century (ibid.:256), Berg even asserts that in this work "they [Hindu-Javanese and Islamic traditions] could go so peace fully and intimately together, because their real characteristics remained vague for the uncritical Javanese spirit" (ibid.:25%, italics original). On the other hand modern Indonesian Muslim scholars like Rasjidi treat these writings as proof that their authors were ridiculously ig norant of Arabic and had only a meager knowledge of the 'true meaning' of Islam (Rasjidi 1956 and I 96 T ). It is also often insinuated that those who still want to use these works of misunderstanding and ignorance in the search for 'true knowledge' (i.e., the proponents of the current Hindu-Buddhist revival movements or Kebatinan movements) are as ignorant and stupid as the authors of the past century (cf. Rasjidi I9 6 7 ). My feeling is that these two ways of interpretation are biased by the hindsight obtained from the experience of subsequent ideological dif ferentiation in the 20th century. It is my opinion that these works must first of all be understood in relation to the social context in which they were written, or rewritten, and read. When they are set in their proper === [PDF page 128] === loU historical context, what seems to me the most striking feature of these writings is that the authors (and the revisers) seldom attempt a frontal attack on Islam. Their criticisms are always focused upon the excessive and eccentric zealotry of santri while the basic tone of the writings is that the authors know better about Islam than these santri and theirs is in fact a more appropriate, more sophisticated Islam. This feature is recognizable even in the Serat Dermagandul which Drewes has called a "rejection of Islam as being a religion foreign to Java and the Javanese" (1 9 6 6:3 1 0 ). It is true that the author of the Serat rejects the funda mental Islamic ritual of sembahjang as a crazy and hypocritical formality. But it is also true that he regards sahadat, the Muslim confession of faith, as the most important element in Islam and interprets the Arabic formula as expressing the secret of ultimate unity between God and human beings in the idiom of sexual intercourse (cf. Rasjidi 1967:3^, and passim). I find it difficult to regard the overall point of the book as an outright rejection of Islam as Drewes suggests. It must be recalled that in these Serat the rulers are almost always described as the pro tectors of the orthodoxy of Islam and as the final regulators over religious disputes: no rulers ever renounce Islam. In 1 9 th century Java, the indigenous rulers, sandwiched between the Dutch overlords and the increasingly resentful populace, could ill afford to discard Islam. They clung to their positions as the representatives of Muslims and the regulators of Islamic matters. The very fact that they were the traditionally legitimate authorities representing their Muslim subjects provided the raison d'etre for the continuous existence of their semi-autonomous polities. If they had had renounced Islam, it would have === [PDF page 129] === 105 meant an end to their traditional claim. The Javanese rulers could not afford to abandon Islam; they could only beat back the 'fanatics’, with the backing of the Dutch power. In this regard Soebardi's interpretation of the Serat Tjentini (l97l) seems to me to strike a most appropriate balance. Criticizing Pigeaud and Drewes' view that the Serat is a piece of anti-Islamic propaganda, Soebardi maintains that the effect of the seemingly anti-Islamic tone of some passages is mitigated by other passages commending the legalistic orthodoxy of Islam and thus the overall effect of the book is that it represents prijaji attempts to "domesticate Islam" against increasing santri attacks (ibid.;3 ^9 ). My feeling is that a fruitful understanding may be obtained by re garding these ideological antagonisms not so much as clashes between different ideological traditions but rather as pertaining to the real social antagonisms which were developing in the relationships among the Dutch, the indigenous rulers, the masses, and the religious specialists. The upsurge of 'Javanism' among the prijaji through the 19th century and the early decades of this century can better be explained as the indica tion of the fact that they were well aware of the erosion of their traditional social position and were in search of an ideological brake which could stop their downhill progress. The modern systematization of 'Javanism* thus took place among the prijaji not in spite of but precisely because of the fact that the masses moved closer to Islam. The fact that it was getting increasingly difficult for the Javanese rulers to contain religious devotion (serving Allah) and political loyalty (serving the King) in a singular politico-religious framework can also be === [PDF page 130] === 106 attested by the issue of sembah around the turn of the century. Sembah was traditionally the posture and gesture of utmost respect for the Java nese rulers (and for the prijaji in general), and was closely linked with sembahjang, a Javanese synonym for sholat, the prescribed Muslim way of praying to Allah. With the slackening of religious orthodoxy among the Javanese ruling circles, the continuous imposition of sembah came to be regarded as a symbol of the arrogance of the prijaji towards the common people. Many of the early leaders of the 'national awakening' movements of the early 20 th century were the ones who personally defied this prac tice and thus suffered reprisal at the hands of the Javanese authorities (cf. Tjokroaminoto's case in Noer 1973:108). The social reality around the turn of the century was applying in creasingly disjunctive pressures upon the theoretically coterminous rela tionship between the political community and the religious community. As some prijaji "put more weight on" the King than Allah, so some abdi dalem santri (royal religious servants) chose to "put more weight on" Allah than the King. Towards the end of the 19th century tension between the Kraton and the Mosque in the principality capitals increased. Here, I believe, was one of the vital sources from which the 'national awakening movement' (pergerakan kebangunan nasional), or the 'people's movement' (pergerakan rakjat) as it was later called by Indonesians, of the earliest decades of this century developed. Many writers have attempted to account for the fact that the princi pality capitals, Surakarta and Jogjakarta, became the central stage for the development of these movements. Petrus Blumberger, a close contem- === [PDF page 131] === 107 porary observer of the 'inlandsche beveging' (native movement), described the principality capitals as the place "where the heart of Java is beating" (1919:289). The fact has been commonly attributed to the cultural continuity existing in the capitals. The Dutch historian of international law. Resink, who was born (1 9 II) and raised in Jogjakarta in this period, is the most eloquent exponent of this view. He writes: "It seems safe to assume that in the years with which we are concerned [1900-19303 the tang of this bygone independence in the past gave the Indonesians in the Principalities something of a foretaste of future independence perhaps near at hand. All who spent their youth there remember something of this sphere, in which they were less tied and less depen dent on a 'foreign' Netherlands Government which in public respected the Principalities with their own systems of private and public law, their own supreme authorities and their own officialdom, despite the great pressure exercised upon it in many different respects behind the scenes. The fact that it was out of the Principalities that the two greatest Islamic societies (Sarekat Islam and Muhammadijah) arose in those days was also in this connection. For were not the Princes referred to in their titles as 'representatives' of Allah and 'rulers' of the faith? One thing seems certain: the Javanese cultural movement was the mightiest expression of cultural nationalism which, like political and social Islamic nationalism, had its vital source in the Principal ities" (Resink n.d.[1958]:23, English original). Which segments of the population in the principality capitals were, then, the most instrumental in the rise of these movements? A common answer to this question has been that the younger. Western-educated generation among the traditional élite was the prime mover (Kahin 1952, Van Niel 1 9 6 0, Nagazurai 1967). Leaders with Islamic backgrounds are also usually included in the general category of 'Westernized' or 'modernized' === [PDF page 132] === 108 elite (cf. Kahin ibid.:U2, Van Niel ibid.:85). Kahin e::plains the prom inence of Islamic elements in the earliest phase of the nationalist move ment as follows: " Islam was not just a common bond; it was, indeed, a sort of in-group symbol as against an alien intruder and oppressor of a different religion" (ibid.:38). Islam, its modernist version above all, thus contributed to the rise of de facto nationalism in spite of its outward Pan-Islamic rhetoric. I think one can go further than this to say that Islam not only con tributed to the expression of national consciousness but also provided an ideological framework through which the masses expressed and formulated their protest against the established social order. In my view the quan titative jump of Sarekat Islam towards the end of 1910’s is largely at tributable to the role of local kijaji and hadji who mobilized the masses at the grass roots level. Socio-economic grievances were ripe. But in order for them to be ignited as a mass movement, an ideological weapon was necessary. The weapon was Islam. VThen the traditional rulers (and the prijaji in general) ceased to be regarded as exemplary Muslims and when they were unable to live up to their traditional task of protecting the common people, then these people looked for the coming of an alterna tive leader. Sarekat Islam provided this alternative and its president Tjokroaminoto was popularly believed to be Ratu Adil/Mahdi. The popular enthusiasm for Sarekat Islam rose to a spectacular level through the 1910's; its membership reached two and one half million in 1919 (Kahin 1952:74). The crisis of traditional rulership developed serious cleavages within the traditional elite themselves. This exacerbated the division === [PDF page 133] === 109 between abangan and santri. Many religious specialists in the Kraton, abdi dalem santri, attributed the cause of the crisis to the laxity of Islamic faith and practice among prijaji. They urged the rulers and the prijaji to rectify their behavior according to the standard of Islamic orthodoxy. Kijaji Hadji Ahmad Dahlan (l868?-1923), the founder of Muham madijah, was one of these critical santri in the service of the Sultan of. Jogja. It is extremely difficult to describe accurately the incipient stage of Muhammadijah due to the paucity of primary sources. Neither do I The work to recover the primary sources of information on the incipient stage of the Muhammadijah movement has not yet been undertaken. Some secondary works, however, are sufficient to indicate the santri/abangan conflict in the Kraton around the turn of the century. According to an official obituary (Almanak Moehammadijah 1933/34:227-235) of Kijaji Hadji Ibrahim, the second president of Muhammadijah (1923-1932), his father H.M.K. Fadlil (Fadhil) once occupied the position of Hoofd Penghulu/Hakim (Head of Religious Officials/Islamic Judge) at the Great Mosque of Jog jakarta during the reign of Sultan Hamengkubuwana VII (1877-1921). In the l890's(?), according to the source, Kijaji Fadlil "dared to insist on the truth of Islam" and consequently invited the disfavor of the Sultan, who finally dismissed him from the office. The founder and the first presi dent of Muhammadijah, Kijaji Hadji Ahmad Dahlan (1921-1923), also exper ienced similar conflicts with the Kraton authorities. He was a son of Kijaji Hadji Aboebakar, a ketib of the Great Mosque of Jogjakarta. Dahlan's maternal grandfather was Chief Penghulu. Dahlan succeeded his father in the position of ketib of the Great Mosque. Upon his return from his second pilgrimage to Mekka in 1904(?), he attempted to rectify the direction of prayer (qiblat) at the Great Mosque so as to indicate the exact direction of Mekka on the basis of his newly acquired knowledge of ilmu falak (astronomy). His disciples (murid) drew a white line on the floor of the Mosque to indicate the correct direction. Kijaji Kandjeng Penghulu Karaalundiningrat, Chief Penghulu (apparently of noble origin), was infuriated by Dahlan's attempt. The Penghulu immediately sent his men to erase the line. As punishment, he had them demolish Dahlan's own langgar built in the correct direction in his houseyard. At this, Dahlan decided to abandon his residence in Kauman, Jogja, and go into exile else where. But his brother, Kijaji Saleh, and relatives successfully persuaded him to stay on (cf. E.N.O.I., VI, 1932:118, Solichin Salam 1902:55, 1 9 6 5:5 5 )♦ (The latter works state that Dahlan's effort to correct the qiblat started as early as I896 but no primary source is cited.) === [PDF page 134] === 110 intend here to venture into the task. It may suffice to present in the following what I believe to be a broad outline of its development so that I can place the local developments of Kotagede in a wider perspective. Hadji Dahlan was one of the twelve ketib (chotib, Friday sermon givers) of the Great Mosque of Jogjakarta, receiving an extremely meager monthly salary of seven guiders from the Sultan's treasury. He lived in the Kauman district of Jogjakarta, and in addition to his official duties in the Mosque he gave religious lessons in his own home, and engaged in the batik trade to supplement his income. He traveled widely in Java for religious as well as commercial purposes. His education was solely re ligious, obtained from his own father, a ketib himself, and from various teachers (kijaji/ulama) in several pondok pesantren in Java. He twice made the pilgrimage to Mekka which took him a total of several years around 1900. It is probable that he was already familiar with the publications of the reformist movement led by Sjech Muhammad Abduh and Sjech Muh. Hasjid Ridla prior to the foundation of Muhammadijah. But there is no evidence, primary or secondary, to suggest that he was personally close to or maintained direct contact with the Egyptian movement. The 2 cont. The sources mention another, similar episode about Dahlan. The year is not specified, but once when the month of Puasa was drawing to an end and the opening of Garebeg was approaching, Dahlan found out through his own astronomical calculation that the day of Lebaran (the ending day of Puasa) set by the Kraton did not coincide with the actual movement of the moon. Although it was late at night, he immediately requested an audience with the Sultan to report his finding. At this audience he requested the Sultan to change the date of Lebaran and Garebeg. The Sultan did not ac cept his request but said; "You go ahead and end the fasting according to your own calculation while the Garebeg of Jogjakarta must be held exactly following the traditional calculation of the aboge" (Solichin Salam I9 6 2; 60 -6 1, 1963 b:79 -8 0 ). === [PDF page 135] === Ill Muhammadijah movement was begun solely on his own and his close associates’ initiative. As a person, Hadji Dahlan was not a scholar, theologian, philosopher, or writer. Indeed he has left no books or articles. He was, however, obviously an excellent educator and preacher. To quote Solichin Salam, a Muhammadijah writer of several books and accounts about Dahlan, he was a "manusia amaliah (man of action, deeds) rather than a manusia ilmiah (man of scholarship)" (1962:28). His religious lessons given in his own house seem to have attracted a considerable number of students, most of them the Kauman youth, through the 1900's. When Budi Utomo was estab lished in Jogjakarta in 1908, he joined the organization with several of his students and was elected to its leadership board as a commissaris and as a religious advisor. He also joined Sarekat Islam probably at the time of its foundation in Surakarta in 1911. In 19l4, he had already assumed the position of religious advisor to the organization. The establishment of Muhammadijah took place in the midst of this period, November l8, 1912. There is no direct information available as to why Dahlan wanted to form a new organization alongside Budi Utomo and Sarekat Islam in both of which he had already occupied an influential position. Perhaps he felt that neither organization could fully satisfy the need for the furtherance of Islamic propagation and education, to which he addressed himself. It is obvious, however, that Dahlan's Muhammadijah did not enter into a hostile or exclusive relationship with either organization, at least in the first decade of its existence. Besides Dahlan himself, there was a considerable number of individuals who had overlapping memberships in those organiza tions. === [PDF page 136] === 112 The following excerpts from the earliest Statutes of Muhammadijah give us some idea why Dahlan and his associates decided to establish Muhammadijah. Article Two of the Statutes reads as follows; "Article 2; The purpose of this association (perhimpunan) is: a. to spread (menjebarkan) the teachings of the Religion of the Reverend Prophet Muhammad, 'May the Lord bless him and give him peace', among the indigenous inhabitants (penduduk Bumiputra) in the residency of Jogjakarta. b. to promote (memadjukan) the religious affairs of the members."3 Indonesian readers will certainly recognize the archaic and Javanese flavor of the wording of the article. The language used is apparently that of a Jogjanese santri: Igama for agama; the title of Kandjeng for the Prophet Muhammad. However, we can also notice something innovative: that is the idea of what we may call a voluntary association purported to do missionary work among the population at large. This is clearly a break from the idea of a status group, abdi dalem santri, as well as from that of a secretive, devotional order, tarékat. The new idea undoubtedly reflected the atmosphere of an era when numerous associations and organizations (perhimpunan, persarikatan, The Indonesian original of the article runs as follows: "Artikel 2. Maka perhimpunan itu maksudnj a: a. menjebarkan pengadjaran Igama Kandjeng Nabi Muhammad Sallalahu Alaihi Wasallam kepada penduduk Bumiputra didalam resi dent ie Jogjakarta. b. memadjukan hal Igama kepada anggautaanggautanja." (Reprinted in the Statuten...Moehammadijah, n.d. [19383:10). === [PDF page 137] === 113 persatuan, etc.) mushroomed. But it must be emphasized that, from the viewpoint of Muhammadijah founders, its formation was religiously inspired and justified. Here let me quote again the verse of the Qur'an which I have quoted at the beginning of this chapter. "Let there be one group of you who call (people) to good, who urge (them) towards virtuous conduct and restrain (them) from evil deeds. Those are the ones who prosper." The verse is said to be the one that gave Dahlan the inspiration to orga nize Muhammadijah. Indeed the verse is the motto of Muhammadijah. Muham madijah is taken as "one group of you" dedicated to calling people to good and restraining them from evil conduct. Amar m a 'ruf; nahi 'anil munkar in Arabic or mengadjak kepada kebadjikan; mentjegah perbuatan jang dj ahat, both meaning "call to good and restrain from evil deeds", is the standard way of expressing what Muhammadijah is all about. One interesting feature about the Indonesian version of this verse is that the term ummah in the Arabic original is translated as 'one group'. In English, ummah is commonly translated as 'religious community* or 'nation'. Arberry's translation of this verse is: "Let there be a nation of you, calling to good, and bidding to honour, and forbidding dishonour; those are the prosperers" (1955, I:8t). The common understanding of ummah is that it is an aggregate of Muslims of Arab and other countries and even of the entire world, an idea which is much broader than what is implied by the Indonesian translation, segolongan ( 'one group* ). 'One group' is, however, not a mistranslation (cf. "umma" in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 1934, IV:1 0 1 5 ). When there is a group of individuals who obey the commands of === [PDF page 138] === llU Allah, then it constitutes an 'ummah' regardless of its size. The point is that the Muhammadijah founders chose to select one meaning, the narrow est one, from a wide range of possible interpretations of the term: the interpretation best suited to define the character of the movement. Muhammadijah certainly started as a small group in contrast to the entire population of Bumiputra. But it was a group of those individuals who were dedicated to the cause of spreading what they believed to be the 'true' teachings of Muhammad and of improving their own religious life. The name of the organization also implies its definition, as shown by this anecdote: When Dahlan decided to name the new organization 'Muham madijah', one of his young disciples asked him about its meaning. Dahlan replied, "Muhammadijah is not a woman's name. [Many personal names of Javanese women end with -ah.1 It rather means the ummat of Muhammad, the followers (pengikut) of Muhammad. Since Muhammad is the last prophet of God (utusan Tuhan jang penghabisan), I hope that Muhammadijah also be comes the last association (perkumpulan jang penghabisan)" (Solichin Salam The founding leadership of Muhammadijah mostly consisted of religious specialists like Dahlan himself. Of the nine members of the central leadership (hoofdbestuur), at least three were religious officials of the Jogjakarta Sultanate, two its administrative officials, and all had the title of Hadji indicating that they had been to Mekka for pilgrimage.^ My information is based on the list of the initial hoofdbestuur members contained in the Statuten...Moehammadijah (n.d.[193P]:ll). Additional information for cross-checking is extremely difficult to obtain. The names of the nine members in the exact way they appear in the source are as follows: === [PDF page 139] === 115 The initial leadership of Muhammadijah apparently consisted of 'grown-ups’ like Dahlan himself who was 44 or 45 years old at the time of its foundation. The rank and file, however, were obviously of a younger generation. Dahlan often gave extracurricular lectures on Islam to the students of the Government Kweekschool (Teachers' Training School) in Djetis, Jogjakarta, and of the OSVIA (Training School for Native Adminis trators) in Magelang around 1910. Some of these students, who had already been Budi Utomo members, became earnest personal disciples of Dahlan. Anecdotal information says that it was thanks to the prompting of these young disciples that Dahlan decided to establish the organization, Muham madijah. The same source says that Dahlan's youthful disciples were "about 25 years old" on the average and "about 22 individuals in total" 4 conu. "1. M. Ketibamin, Hadji Ahmad Dahlan 2. M. Pangoeloe, Abdoelah Sirat ['Hadji' according to ibid.;1T3 3. R. Ketib Tjandana, Hadji Ahmad 4. Hadji Abdoel Rahman 5. R. Hadji Sarkawi 6. M. Gebajan, Hadji Mohamad T. R. Hadji Djaelani 8. Hadji Akis (Anis) 9. M. Tjarik, Hadji Mohammad Pakih." The initial "M." for Nos. 1,2,6, and 9 must be the abbreviation of "Mas", a title for a lesser prijaji. Similarly, "R." for Nos. 3,5» and 7 stands for "Raden", another title for a lesser prijaji. The title of "Pangoeloe" (penghulu) for No. 2 might have meant the Penghulu of the Great Mosque but other sources say that the incumbent Penghulu was another person in 1912. Therefore No. 2 must have been a Penghulu of another mosque. No. 3, Ketib Tjandana Hadji Ahmad, was obviously a Dahlan's colleague at the Great Mosque of Jogja. Gebajan (kebajan) and tjarik for Nos. 6 and 9 commonly refer to office names in the village administration (kalurahan), messenger and secretary respectively. But since it is unlikely that the city of Jogja already had the new kalurahan system by 1912, these must have re ferred to lesser offices in the Sultanate government. All in all, I may safely conclude that the initial Muhammadijah leadership consisted of the religiously-specialized or religious-minded segment (santri) of the lesser prijaji corps of the Sultanate of Jogjakarta. === [PDF page 140] === including "12 students from the Kweekschool of Djetis" (Solichin Salam 1963:39). It seems that those young followers of Dahlan, who held double mem bership in Budi Utomo and Muhammadijah, contributed to a great degree to the subsequent growth of Muhammadijah through the late 1910's. The 1917 national congress of Budi Utomo was hosted by Dahlan himself and held at his house in Kauman, Jogjakarta. A religious lecture he gave to the delegates made a deep impression. After the congress, he was requested by many delegates to visit and give similar lectures in various parts of Java. The subsequent lecture trip Dahlan made marked the first step in the expansion of Muhammadijah beyond the region of Jogjakarta (cf. Noer 1973:75-76, Solichin Salam 1963:38-39)• In sum Muhammadijah started as a movement of abdi dalem santri in Kauman, Jogja. Dahlan first attempted to rectify the religious life of Kraton circles but. was unsuccessful. He sought his audience among lesser prijaji through Budi Utomo. He also tried to inject his ideas into Sarekat Islam. He met some success in both but, until the end of the 1910's, the activities of Muhammadijah were confined to Kauman, Jogja, or to the Jogja Residency at best. The expansion of Muhammadijah came with the support and participation of the 'urban middle class', a process which began only in the next decade. THE NATIONAL AWAKENING MOVEMENT AND KOTAGEDE Elderly Kotagedeans still recall the excitement and enthusiasm they experienced when they heard about and sometimes even saw and listened to leaders of various popular movements developed in the 1910's. As an old informant recalls: === [PDF page 141] === "Rapat propaganda (propaganda meetings) were often held in various places in Kotagede at that time. Large pendopo^ near the pasar were often used for gatherings of that sort. There came and spoke such tokoh-tokoh [leading figures] as H.O.S. Tjokro aminoto [president of Sarekat Islam], Samanhoedi [founder of the same organization], K.H. Dahlan [founder of Muhammadijah], Ki Hadjar Dewantoro [leader of the Taman Siswa school system], and even P.K.I. leaders, Semaun, Muso and Alimin. We listened to them attentively and then continued debat (debate) among ourselves." However, the influences of these various movements were not evenly felt in Kotagede, for channels of political communication varied among the organizations just as much as the content of political messages was differentially accepted by the various segments of the town's population. Documentary evidence suggests that it was Budi Utomo that first re cognized the importance of the thriving entrepreneurial group in Kotagede as a model for indigenous economic advancement and as a potential con stituency for its organization. When Budi Utomo's second congress was held in the Kweekschool of Jogjakarta in 1909, Raden Sastrowidjono, Public Prosecutor (Djaksa) of Sragen, made a speech on the desirable course of progress for the indigenous population of Java, which Budi Utomo was to lead, and mentioned the role of traders in Kotagede and elsewhere: "A country cannot progress if she does not have a segment of her population engaged in trade (handelstand, trading class), for those traders indeed form a middle class, bangsa pertengahan or middenstand. Are there not any Javanese who are engaged in trade? Yes, there certainly are. Open meeting hall, part of traditional Javanese house plan of Kuli kentjeng standing, which can easily accommodate many scores of people and even additional hundreds if the surrounding yard is utilized. === [PDF page 142] === 118 But they are few in comparison to the total number of the population on the island of Java. In fact, at present, there is not yet found among us Javanese what is called the handelseest (commercial spirit) in the Dutch language. fNevertheless] it is true to say that whereever there is a grain of the commercial spirit, how ever small it may be, then there is prosperity. People [in such a place] seem content and calm (ajem-ajem) like those in Pasar Gede [in Jogjakarta], Lawijan and Kauman [in Surakarta], Kudus, and some other places" (Verslag Budi Utomo 1910:40).° In spite of this wooing by the prijaji organization, no one among the Kotagedeans, traders or prijaji, seems to have been attracted to Budi Utomo. Budi Utomo failed to acquire mass support in Kotagede as well as elsewhere and remained essentially an elitist organization. Nor did Sarekat Islam make any organizational headway in Kotagede. This is strange in view of the fact that the organization, especially in its formative years but also throughout the subsequent period, put much emphasis on the protection and advancement of the economic interests of the indigenous trading class against those of.the Dutch as well as the Chinese. In fact Kotagedeans were stirred by Sarekat Islam's propaganda but showed little interest in organizational affiliation with it. I pressed some Kotagedeans for an explanation. ^I am indebted to Akira Nagazumi for the source of the information cited here. The only visible remnant of the enthusiasm which is said to have been aroused by Sarekat Islam propaganda among Kotagedeans is that a certain Hardjowirogo, mantri garam dan tjandu (lower prijaji in charge of govern ment monopolistic sales of salt and opium) in Kotagede, got excited by the Sarekat Islam movement and named one of his sons "Sentrai" after Centraal Sarekat Islam. Fear of any potential threat to its colonial rule prompted the Dutch government to refuse legal recognition to the national leader ship of the movement until I9 1 6. Centraal Sarekat Islam was only allowed === [PDF page 143] === 119 I asked Hadji Masjhudi, the eldest leader of Muhammadijah, why Sare kat Islam was not successful in Kotagede. The old Hadji replied: "In the case of Sarekat Islam, its ideology entered here first but its organization did not. We were already connected with (berhubung dengan) Muhammadijah through family ties (hubungan keluarga). A few of us joined 8.1. too, but as an organization it did not come alive (hidup) here. Moreover, 8.1. was a political organization while Muhammadijah was a social one. In the case of Muhammadijah, it entered here through family relationships and friendships (perantaran persaudaraan)." Ideologically many Kotagedeans were receptive and even sympathetic to S.I. But when it came to the matter of organizational affiliation, net works of family relationship and friendship were given priority. A state ment by another elderly Kotagedean points this up: "At that time a lot of organizations developed. These organizations first looked like one an other. But we suspected that there must be some organizations which were set up by the government to deceive us. We did not like to be manipulated (didalangi). In that kind of 7 cont. to function as a central coordinating body. Therefore in the years be tween 1912 and 1 9 1 6, the issue of 'Centraal Sarekat Islam' was heatedly discussed among the members of the organization as well as outsiders. The young Sentral later took good advantage of the educational opportunities opened up by the Dutch colonial government for prijaji children, went through the educational system at an H.I.S. (Dutch language elementary school for Indonesians) of Breeders, M.U.L.O. (Dutch language junior high) in MutiIan, A.M.S.B. (Dutch language senior high) in Jogja, and finished G.H.S. (medical college) in Batavia in 19^1 with an M.D. degree. After the independence of Indonesia, Dr. Sentral became the first Indonesian director of the Bumah Sakit Panti Rapih, a Catholic hospital in Jogja. But his education seems to have removed him so much from his fellow Kota gedeans in cultural and religious orientation that he became the first and only native of Kotagede that ever converted to the Catholic faith before independence (cf. Rasjidi 1968:9-10). === [PDF page 144] === 120 situation, we thought that w e ’d better rely on the relationships of family and friends. We already knew who was honest and could be trusted and who was not." Towards the end of the 1910's, two different orientations crystalized in Kotagede resulting from the general stirrings created by the national awakening movement. One was the Communist movement and the other Muham madijah. Both gained considerable followings in the early 1920's. I will deal with the former later as it comes into our scope of discussion. In the following several sections I want to trace in detail the process of Muhammadijah's development from its inception in the 1910's to its growth into an influential movement in Kotagede in the 1920's and 1930's. First, however, it will be helpful to recapitulate briefly the general religious situation in Kotagede before the advent of Muhammadijah in order to show how far it had to go to break away from it. A B M G M I S M IN KOTAGEDE As I have tried to show in the previous chapter, religious life in pre-reform Kotagede centered around the institution of the Pasarejan (royal cemetery). Pasarejan officials had control over local resources and manpower, and mobilized them to maintain and perpetuate this 'power reservoir' for the well-being of the Javanese principalities. To this end the Pasarejan officials, both keykeepers and mosque officials, were re quired to have expertise properly to perform their respective prescribed duties and were jointly responsible for the maintenance of the moral order of the common people under them in this keputihan (religious) territory. In the course of time, however, the execution of their duties became so routinized that no extraordinary religious knowledge or devotion was === [PDF page 145] === 121 required of them. An indication of this process is that in Kotagede, prior to the advent of Muhammadijah, no local tradition of religious de voutness was found; there were no renowned hadji or kijaji in Kotagede, nor was there any pesantren or pondok. It was not a prerequisite at all for Pasarejan officials to have an extraordinary religious education. Very few of them went to Mekka to acquire the title of hadji. The pilgrimage did not contribute much to enhance their position, which was already assured hereditarily. Sons of mosque officials had only to spend some years at the Arabic school, a special school for the children of abdi dalem santri located in the kratons of Solo and Jogja, to learn Arabic, the chanting and commentary of the Qur'an, and the basics of Islamic law, especially those laws concerned with family and inheritance. Otherwise it was sufficient for them to pre pare to take over their fathers' positions by apprenticing (magang) them selves to their fathers. For the common people the articulation of religious life was basical ly determined by calendric and intermittent kraton ceremonies and rituals centering around the Pasarejan, while private life-cycle rites and crises were taken care of by karapong kaum or dukun. A tacit division of labor emerged between the abangan masses and the santri religious specialists. Kaum or mosque officials were called upon to perform rituals and cere monies for abangan who paid material rewards in return. Otherwise abangan stayed away, from religious matters unless they were institutionally obliged to take part. The abangan masses cared little about either orthodoxy or devoutness in Islam. If some of them were rich enough to afford to give their children an elementary religious education, they === [PDF page 146] === 122 hired private religious teachers. This was not the sign of their religi osity, hut was rather due to the fact that there were no other kinds of education available to them. These points are well illustrated by the experience of Professor Rasjidi, one of the most prominent reformist Islamic leaders in Indonesia today, who spent his early childhood in pre-Muhammadijah Kotagede: "My family was what was usually called an 'abangan family' which meant that one pro fessed Islam but did not perform daily prayers. My father, when he got old and felt weak, started to pray, and before he died he willed that part of his wealth was to be spent to send a person to Mekka to discharge the obligation of hadji [pilgrimage] for him after his death (1 9 6 8:9 ). "Every Thursday evening, especially every eve of Friday-Kliwon and Tuesday-Kliwon, my mother sent someone to buy flowers to be placed at the corners of the house, at the entrance, and the like (1 9 6 7:9 ). "in the month of Puasa, I was often sent by my parents to a naib [religious official] of the mosque to bring him a small sum of money every evening after magrib [prayer at sunset] when fasting was over. But my family did not fast nor did they participate in tarwehan [chanting of the Qur'an in group] in the mosque (personal communication 1 9 7 1 ). "While I was young, my brothers and I had lessons in the recitation of the Qur'an with a religious teacher who came to visit our house each morning" (1968:9). When a young Kotagede man wanted to pursue further education, he was usually sent by his parents to a pondok in the neighboring village of Wonokromo, about five kilometers to the southwest of Kotagede, or to the one located in Krapjak, about 12 kilometers to the north, or to a remote pondok of more fame on the north coast of Central Java or in East Java. === [PDF page 147] === 123 A returnee from pondok did not acquire extraordinary status or prestige. He usually married and helped in his parents' business. As a local santri intellectual bluntly put it: "People in Kotagede, especially the rich, were quite individualistic and egocentric. They did not care about anything other than getting money. When they got money, they built a house and walled in themselves and their treasures by constructing high brick walls, which were spe cific to Kotagede as you see everyvrhere around here. The attitude was at best non-agama (non religious) or often rather anti-agama (antireligious ), They thought of religion as a waste of money." Now we have to inquire how the devout religious movement like Mu hammadijah was able to get a footing in this abangan atmosphere. MUHAMMADIJAH FOUNDERS IN KOTAGEDE The best way to present the process of the Muhammadij ah development in Kotagede seems to take life histories of its founding leaders. In the life histories of those individuals, the processes of breaking off from the tradition and of transition to a new religious orientation are clearly embodied. The life histories of two such individuals, Kijaji Hadji Masjhudi and Kijaji Hadji Amir, will be presented below in detail. Both were the founders of Kotagede Muhammadijah. In addition, I will mention about a dozen more individuals’ life histories for generalization and comparison. Hadji Masjhudi was born in Kampong Boharen, Kotagede, probably in 1 8 8 8. His childhood name was Rusdi but he later changed it to Masjhudi upon his return from Mekkan pilgrimage. The exact date of his birth is not known. He himself said to me, "My birth date is not certain, for there is no written document." I asked if he remembered his birthday according === [PDF page 148] === 124 to the Javanese calendar. He answered, "I already forgot it. It’s not important." I suspected that he did know it but obviously he did not seem to think much of it. When he died on the 28th of February, 1972, while I was still in the field, the biographical sketch compiled by the Muhammadi jah leaders in Kotagede to be read at his funeral contained the information that the hadji was 84 years old at his death. What follows about his life is based upon the biographical sketch and other local publications, and my interviews with him and his family and friends in Kotagede. Hadji Masjhudi’s father, Hadji Mukmin, w@,s a wholesale trader in cot ton yarns and cloth for batik. He maintained a store in Danuredjan, one of the main business districts in the city of Jogjakarta. Mukmin's grand father, Kijaji Baghowi, came to settle in Kotagede from the Kauman district of Pidjeraan in Bantul prior to the Dipanegara War (l825-l830). Hadji Masjhudi was thus the fourth generation of a migrant family from the hin terland of Kotagede, but he and others thought himself to be asli Kotagede, or native Kotagedean. Masjhudi's father married twice (it is not clear if his marriages were polygynous or serial), and from his first marriage he had five children (four sons and one daughter), of whom Masjhudi was the youngest. All four sons of Hadji Mukmin grew up to become successful traders in their own ways and his only daughter married a trader in Kota gede. She was widowed soon after but remarried Hadji Mudjakkir, a respected ulama/trader (father of Professor Kahar Mudjakkir). Hadji Mukmin's second marriage waç with a woman in kampong Gedung Kuning, a kampong located about two kilometers to the north of Kotagede proper, to which union three sons were born, all of whom also later engaged in trade. Hadji Mukmin died in the late twenties. He himself seems not to have been particularly active === [PDF page 149] === 125 in religion, although he did spend a large amount of money for his chil dren's religious education. All of his sons and daughter went on the pil grimage to Mekka while they were relatively young and later became involved in the Muhammadijah movement in various ways. His descendants, now for mally organized into a family organization, Bani Mukmin (Descendants of Mukmin), regard him as the instigator of the religiosity among them. The most religiously active among his sons were the second son, Muchsin, and the youngest, Masjhudi, from his first marriage. Hadji Muchsin later became one of the richest traders in pre-war Kotagede, largely owing to the fact that he was given by the Jogja government the license of monopoly over the import of Japanese-made kembrik (cambric, fine cotton linen for batik) for the entire region of Jogjakarta. He was one of the 'merchant kings' of pre-war Kotagede. Once Hadji Muchsin at tended a bi-national trade conference between Japan and the Netherland Indies in the mid-thirties representing large textile importers in Java. Hadji Muchsin's third wife, born in Kauman Jogjakarta, was a niece of Kijaji Hadji Dahlan, the founder of Muhammadijah. This marriage took place in the late 1910's and apparently through this affinal connection Hadji Muchsin was soon drawn into the Muhammadijah movement. He participated in the national leadership of Muhammadij ah from the early twenties, being in charge of the section for the management of religious foundations (wakaf) (cf. Verslag Moehammadijah 1923:28). He himself is said to have contributed at least 500 rupiahs annually to the national treasury of Muhammadijah and various amounts locally. Hadji Muchsin married four times (including the one mentioned above) before his death in 1948. His first wife was a sister of Atmosudigdo, === [PDF page 150] === 126 another 'merchant king' in Kotagede (one of whose sons is Professor Rasjidi quoted above several times). She died in Mekka while the couple was there on a pilgrimage. From his three consequent polygynous wives (one, the above-mentioned niece of Kijaji Hadji Dahlan, another from Semarang, and the last again from Kauman, Jogja) many second-generation leaders of Mu hammadijah in Kotagede were born. He also financially sponsored his two nephews (sons of his sister) to study in Cairo in the twenties and thirties, one of whom is Professor Abdul Kahar Mudjakkir, another nationally famous leader of the Reformist Muslim community in Indonesia. Hadji Muchsin's daughter married Professor A.K. Mudjakkir upon his return from Cairo (cousin marriage). A daughter of Muchsin's sister married Kijaji Hadji Amir, another most influential leader of the reformist movement in Kotagede along with Hadji Masjhudi. Hadji Mukmin's third son, Hadji Masduki, him self a successful trader, married four times (polygynously) and had many children, most of whom were highly educated and later became well estab lished professionals or married to the like, i.e., one lawyer, two physi cians, one professor and two teachers, including a daughter who has become the wife of Professor Mukti All, the present Minister of Religious Affairs. I first met Hadji Masjhudi at the public prayer meeting for Hari Raya Idul Fitri in November 1970, shortly after I started my fieldwoi'k in Kota gede. Since then, until his death in February 1972, I frequently had occa sions to talk with him. He had a large house on one of the main streets in Kotagede, the one leading to the north. His house was markedly different from other old houses in Kotagede in that it did not conform to the tradi tional house plan. Instead of a pendopo, there was a large living room (kamar tamu) furnished with many pieces of fine teak wood furniture from === [PDF page 151] === 127 Japara. The kamar tamu was located in the eastern front of the house. In contrast, the traditional pendopo is placed to the south of the main body of the house and accordingly the entire house is constructed to face to the south. Local informants say that houses must face to the south so as to pay respect to Loro Kidul (Goddess of the South Ocean), the Guardian God dess of Mataram. Hadji Masjhudi's house was constructed in the late twenties when he became financially independent of his father. IVhen I pointed out the 'irregularities* of his house, he smiled pleasantly and explained that he himself had drawn up the house plan and ignored tradition. The only con sideration he made was to accommodate most comfortably people visiting his house for religious gatherings at any time without being disturbed by bad weather or noises from outside. (Pendopo are subject to these distur bances.) His house also originally had a large garage for automobiles which in recent years had been converted to the use of the Religious Affairs Office in Kotagede for a nominal rent. In this house he lived with his third wife (his two previous wives were dead), his daughter from his second marriage and her husband, the children of the couple, and a maid and boy servant. Hadji Masjhudi had a store to the east of Kotagede Post Office on the road leading to Plered. The store, built at the same time his house was constructed in the twenties, had been burned down by the scorched-earth tactics of the Indonesian Republican forces in 1 9 U8 and had since been rebuilt. Merchandise found in his store were a strange combination of kitchen utensils, kerosene lamps and stoves, religious books and pamphlets, notebooks and stationery, various kinds of nails and wire and even some === [PDF page 152] === 128 agricultural tools. It was, in short, a very much abbreviated version of a general store. In Kotagede there were several general stores which were much superior to Hadji Masjhudi’s in variety of merchandise if less competitive in quality and price. But Hadji Masjhudi seemed to have a number of steady customers who enabled him to keep his store running. Every morning from eight to noon Hadji Masjhudi himself, still in good health although he was more than eighty years old, worked in the store. From noon to four the store was closed, but reopened between four and six in the late afternoon. In the afternoons his daughter or son-in-law who returned home from his office, the Regional Religious Affairs Office in Jogja, worked in the store while the old hadji received visitors at home. While at work Hadji Masjhudi wore a white shirt, sarong, and white round cap on his head. On formal occasions he dressed in a khaki suit and sarong with an Arabic turban on his head. From his simple attire and the rather poor appearance of his store, it was difficult to imagine that he was still one of the richest merchants in Kotagede. An indication of his wealth was that he and his immediate family members owned about 2.%# of all the residential land in the two rukun kampong in Kotagede kota: two plots each for his house and store, a large plot for Aisjijah’s musholla (women's mosque), the rest consisting of several rent-out shops, houses and open fields. He regularly contributed to the finances of the local Muhammadijah until his death. The biographical sketch prepared for his funeral described his life as that of "ulama (learned scholar in Islamic teachings), guru (teacher), pemimpin (leader), and pedjuang (fighter) in the religious and national movement." He was also termed as a "successful kijaji pedagang (religiously === [PDF page 153] === 129 respected merchant" all through his life. Hadji Masjhudi's formal education started with his enrolment at the Keputrean School in Alun-Alun, Jogjakarta. The School was a special pri mary school catering to the young boys of Javanese prijaji. I failed to obtain specific explanations as to how the young Rusidi, apparently a boy of common origin, had been able to enter this privileged school. I heard no other examples of this kind among the Kotagedeans. Perhaps it was thanks to his father's enormous wealth and close business relationships with kraton circles. This closeness of Mukmin’s family to the Jogja kraton is also indicated by the fact that Masjhudi's second wife was a 'princess' of the Jogjakarta kraton. What is interesting about Hadji Masjhudi's life history is that obviously he did not activate or effec tively manipulate such connections of his family with the Jogja kraton for his personal gains. Rather the subsequent course of his life history was to play down these connections and to pursue religious commitments. His own statements as to his education are as follows: "There were no schools in Kotagede when I was a young boy. So I went to the Keputrean School in Alun-Alun, Jogja. There was no railroad service extended to Kotagede yet, so I had to walk six kilometers to school everyday. My mind was not strong enough. So I could not continue going to school. I quit the school at the second grade. But I was still inter ested in religious learning (mengadji). So my father sent me to pesantren in various places. At that time there were not as many pesantren as today." He spent some time in pondok Wonokromo and Kanggotan, both relatively near Kotagede, learning Arabic. He wanted to pursue more advanced learn ing and decided to study with Kijaji Zainuddin, a famous ulama of the day, in pondok Tjepoko, Ngandjuk, at the foot of Mt. Wilis in the Kediri plain. === [PDF page 154] === 130 East Java. There he spent five years. After another few years on pondok Modjidari and Termas, both in East Java, he went on a pilgrimage to Mekka around I9 IO where he studied with Kijaji Machfudz, a famous ulama from pondok Termas and one of the most revered teachers of the Malay-Indonesian community in Mekka for a long time in the early decades of this century. Through this religious education, Hadji Masjhudi became learned in feqih (Islamic Law), tafsir (commentary to the Qur'an), tassawuf (mysticism) and ushuluddin (theology). He returned to Java a few years prior to the out break of World War One. He settled in Kotagede and, according to his words, "following the tradition of kampong here, got married and started to work with my father." Hadji Masjhudi married three times serially in his life. His first wife was a local and bore him a son who became a medical doctor. After her death he married a woman from 'dalem beteng', i.e., Kraton Jogja, as mentioned above. She was apparently a 'princess’, but I failed to obtain information on exactly how the princess was related to the current Sultan of Jogjakarta. The princess died before World War Two leaving only one child with Masjhudi. After the war he married for the third time a woman from Wonosobo. When I was in the field, he was living with this woman who was rather old, but he jokingly said to me, "We have not got children yet. But you'll see." In 1 9 1 b the young Hadji Masjhudi represented his family business in the Colonial Fair held in Semarang with a group of representative traders and industrialists from Kotagede. The official publication of the Fair states that "Hadji Masjhudi from Jogjakarta exhibited batik in the Jogja karta Pavilion and was given a bronze medal for recognition" (Koloniale === [PDF page 155] === 131 Tentoonstelling Semarang V.I.:205). It was in the mid-1910's that Hadji Masjhudi took the initiative of founding two reformist organizations locally. One was called Sjarekatul Muhtadi, an organization for the religious education of adult men and women, and the other a youth organization called Krido Mataram. In 1917 or 1918 Hadji Amir moved into Kotagede and soon became the closest colleague of Hadji Masjhudi. For the next thirty years the two hadji played vital roles in the development of Muhammadijah in Kotagede. Hadji Masjhudi In the above mentioned biographical sket.ch-j-'this fair is called 'Pasar Malam International' or International Evening Fair. But in fact the fair was something more formal and more grandiose than this colloquial expres sion suggests. Its official name was 'KolonialeTentoonstelling' or 'Colonial Fair' and was intended as "official commemoration of the centen nial celebration of the regaining of the Dutch independence" and was spon sored by the Dutch colonial government itself. The Fair was held for four months between August and November 191^ and was visited by more than 3 0 0,0 0 0 Indonesians and 370,000 non-Indonesians. All together 900 exhibi tors participated in the Fair from various parts of colonial Indonesia as well as from abroad, including those from Japan, China, Australia, British India, French Indochina, U.S.A. and Syria. The Fair was an exemplary embodiment of the 'Ethical Policy' which was in its heyday around the year and also a lively cross-section of the 'plural economy' of colonial Indo nesia. Various agencies of the Dutch colonial government and Dutch and foreign private enterprises displayed exhibits demonstrating the techno logical advancement of the western capitalist sector of the economy. A large number of foreign Asians, Chinese, Arabs, and Indians also partici pated. Side by side there was a variety of exhibits representing the 'native' sector of the economy, including various handicrafts and artistic articles from all over colonial Indonesia. Even the entrance fees were 'pluralistic', i.e., different nationalities were charged different fees. Also the Fair was a good indicator of the particular juncture of the time in which 'ethical' politicians and administrators, social democrats and advocators of the independence of Indonesia, indigenous adat authorities like the Sultan of Jogja and many bupati in Java, as well as devout Muslim businessmen had a short-lived honeymoon bandwagon. For example, Governor- General Idenburg officiated the opening tape-cutting ceremony of the Fair while the later Comintern agent for the Far East, Hendricus Sneevliet, contributed an article entitled "The Trade in Semarang" to the commemora tion for the Fair. There was even a special pavilion dedicated to 'De Vrouw' (The Woman) in which the picture of Kartini, the founding mother of the Indonesian women's emancipation movement, was hung. === [PDF page 156] === 132 occupied the position of the voorzitter (president) of the Kotagede Muham madijah branch well into the post-war period, while Hadji Amir headed the Muhammadijah school system in Kotagede over the same period. The report of the 1923 national congress of Muhammadijah contains the fact that the Kotagede branch already established a four-grade second-class elementary school and that religious courses (pengadjian) for adult men and women were held regularly there (Verslag Moehammadijah 1923:52).^ In the 1932 national congress of Muhammadi jah held in Makassar, Sulawesi, the This document, which is the earliest of Muhammadijah's o\m publications available to me, contains an interesting statistical survey of its member ship in the year of 1923. The statistics show that, even after a period of ten years since its foundation in Jogjakarta, Muhammadijah was still confined to Java alone and was concentrated heavily in South Central Java. Table III-l. Muhammadijah and Aisjijah Membership in 1923 Branches Muhammadi jah Aisjijah South Central Java Jogjakarta 1,230 239 Surakarta 216 — Klaten 73 - Purbolinggo 231 231 Subtotal 1,834 470 North Central Java Pekalongan 75 — Pekadjangan 93 97 Subtotal 1 68 97 West Java Betawi [Djakarta] 348 — Subtotal 348 — East Java Surabaja 272 157 Grand total 2,6 2 2 724 Source: Verslag Moehammadijah (1923:37). In addition to the twelve branches listed above, the statistics include three more branches (Kepandjen, Balapulang and Srandakan) of which no membership figures are reported originally. I was unable to identify those === [PDF page 157] === 133 Kotagede branch was represented by the two hadji, Masjhudi and Amir (Pringatan Congress Moehammadijah 1932). In the late 1930's, as we will see later, the two hadji were instrumental in the Muhammadijah effort to establish a new mosque, Mesdjid Perak (Silver Mosque) in Kotagede, and they also served as its chotib (sermon givers). \'/hen Masjumi (Madjelis Sjuro Muslimin Indonesia or Consultative Coun cil of Indonesian Muslims) was established as the all-embracing federation of Muslim organizations during the Japanese occupation period, Hadji Masjhudi headed its Kotagede branch. In the subsequent revolutionary war period, Hadji Mas jhudiT was the head of the Muslim paramilitary organiza tion Sabillilah (lit.. Path of Allah) and also sat on the leadership board of the youth paramilitary organization Hizbullah (lit., Fighters for Allah). He then retired from the active leadership role in Muhammadijah but re mained playing the role of sesupuh (elderly advisor) and also joined the local Tardjih (the Council of Scholars) of Muhammadijah throughout the rest of his life. Upon his death in February 1972, his funeral was attended by the na tional leadership of Muhammadijah, the delegate from the Kraton Jogjakarta, 9 cont. three places on the map. On the basis of these figures, the congress reported that there were fif teen branches of Muhammadijah (and Aisjijah) with a total membership of about 4,000. The predomihance of South Central Java in the membership strength is ob vious. About 60% of the total members were concentrated in the region. More than one third of the total membership was within the areas under the Jogjakarta headquarters (including Kotagede). Two metropolitan centers of Java, Djakarta (Betawi/Batavia) and Surabaja, were well represented in the statistics. But conspicuously absent were traditionally strong Islamic ur ban centers in North Central Java like Kudus and Demak. === [PDF page 158] === 134 the officials of the two Great Mosques in Jogja and Solo, the officials of the Department of Religious Affairs in Jogja, a large number of Islamic leaders and scholars in Central Java, and virtually all, adult residents of Kotagede. While Hadji Masjhudi represented the organizational side of Kotagede Muhammadijah, Hadji Amir, whose life history I shall give below, repre sented the educational side. Hadji Amir created and led the Muhammadijah school system locally from the late 1910's until the coming of the Japa nese in 1 9 4 2. The following information is taken from an article in the brochure published by Kotagede Muhammadijah in 1969 (Muhammad Nizar 1969) as well as from my interviews. Hadji Amir was not a native of Kotagede. He was born ca. I892 in the village of Mlangren, Kulon Progo, as the second son of Kijaji Djalal Sajuthi, a renowned ulama. Earlier Djalal Sajnthi stayed in Mekka as a teacher/scholar for about ten years in which period K.H. Dahlan, the founder of Muhammadijah, was one of his students there. Hadji Amir's childhood name was Samanhudi. While Samanhudi was still young, his family moved to the town of Purworedjo, Kedu, Central Java. There-he grew up and married a daughter of Kijaji Amin, the lurah (head) of the village Bokongan, Purworedjo. From this marriage, Samanhudi had a child but both child and mother died. Many years later, around 1918, Samanhudi, who had changed his name to Amir upon his return from a Mekkan pilgrimage with the title of Hadji, married a granddaughter of Hadji Mukmin in Kotagede. Hadji Amir settled in Kampong Selokraman, Kotagede, and pio neered in building up the Muhammadijah educational system there. The young Samanhudi's education started with the study of Arabic and === [PDF page 159] === 135 the basics of Islamic teachings with his own father, Hadji Djalal. By the time he reached his teens he had already displayed strong interest in the work of Buchori (Al-Bukhari, 194-256h /810-TOM), and his religious educa tion in various pondok in Java was partly financed by his father-in-law, Kijaji Amin. He obtained a certificate of excellence in the recitation of the Qur'an (chufadz) from K.H. Munawir in Pondok Krapjak, Jogjakarta, and studied many religious books with Kijaji Nawawi, Pasuruhan, East Java. He also studied ilmu nahwu (Arabic grammar) with Kijaji Ibrahim in Nglirap, Karanganjar, Kebumen, Central Java. It was in the famous pondok of Tebu Ireng, Djombang in East Java, that he experienced a turning point in his career as an ulama. There he became one of the disciples of Kijaji Hadji Hasjim Asjari, the most re vered "traditional and conservative" ulama of the day, who later founded the Nahdatul Ulama in 1926 (cf. Noer 1973:229). Samanhudi spent fourteen months in this pondok, mostly learning Buchori's work, in which period Kijaji Hadji Hasjim Asjari came to recognize his extraordinary brightness and earnestness. K.H. Hasjim Asjari suggested that Samanhudi go to Mekka and stM ày with Buchori specialists in the Holy City. The young Samanhudi was so overjoyed by his master's recognition and suggestion that he imme diately left Java for Singapore on the trip to Mekka without obtaining his family's approval. Now lacking any support from family, Samanhudi was short of funds to travel on to Mekka. So, like many other religiously zealous but poor youths of his day, he spent some time in Singapore to earn the money to finance his further trip to Mekka. In Singapore he worked for the publishing firm of Sajjdus Sjaich (Sayyid Shaykh in Malay spelling), a Malacca-born Islamic scholar of Malay-Arabic descent, and one of the pro- === [PDF page 160] === 136 moters of the influential reformist journal, Al-Iman.^^ At the same time, Samanhudi continued studying Buchori with this learned Islamic scholar. After ten months of work and study in Singapore, the young Samanhudi finally sailed for Mekka. Upon arriving in the Holy City, he made himself a disciple of Kijaji Hadji Mahfudz, the Javanese ulama from Pondok Termas of Patjitan. In 19l4, after six years of study, Samanhudi was awarded hy his teacher, Hadji Mahfudz, a certificate (idjazah) indicating that he had mastered the hadith Buchori. The certificate was originated hy Buchori himself more than one thousand years before and was handed down through twenty-three generations of ulama who had commanded the work of Buchori, Kijaji Hadji Mahfudz being the last in the line at that time. As we have seen earlier, Hadji Masjhudi was almost contemporary to Hadji Amir in his stay in Mekka. Moreover, both became students of the same teacher, Kijaji Hadji Mahfudz. Therefore it is very likely that the acquaintanceship between the two young Javanese Muslims, who were soon to become close colleagues in reformist proselytization and relatives through marriage, might have started in the Holy City. Unfortunately I have no further information on this matter. According to William Roff's The Origins of Malay Nationalism (196?), this renowned leader of the Malay-Muslim community in Singapore was born ca. 1862 in Malacca of a Malay mother and a Malay-Arab father of Hadrami descent. He was then adopted by the Heir-Apparent (Radj a Muda) of the Riau Sultan. In the 1 8 9 0 's he participated in the formation of an Islamic study club in the Straits Settlement. He many times accompanied the sons of the Sultan and Radja Muda to Mekka and became one of the most important personal linkages between the Holy City and the Muslim communities in the Malay-Indonesian world. In 1 9 OI-I90 9 he was active in the publication of the journal Al-Iman in Singapore as its editional staff and contributor. He was a prominent and influential sjariah (Islamic law) lawyer, educator, merchant and publisher in the early decades of this century in Singapore (Roff 1967:59 ff., 62 ff.). For the role of Singapore's Malay-Muslim community in the development of reformist movements in the Malay-Indonesian world, see the entire Chapter 3, op.cit.. === [PDF page 161] === 137 Like many ulama in his day, Hadji Amir engaged in trade as a means of livelihood and it is likely that he came into contact with Kotagede mer chants through trade networks in Central Java. Even prior to undertaking his pilgrimage, Samanhudi had often been sent on business trips by his father-in-law to Tjilatjap, Jogjakarta, and other trade centers in Central Java. His second marriage to the granddaughter of Hadji Mukmin in Kota gede brought him into the midst of Javanese trading circles. He worked closely with his mother-in-law, Njaji Chotidjah, whose trade networks ex tended to Modjokerto in East Java. Hadji Amir also worked in the shop of his grandfather-in-law, Hadji Mukmin, in Danuredjan, Jogjakarta. Later Hadji Amir independently engaged in retailing threads and yarns in Kota gede. He also participated in the trade of gold and jewelry with his mother-in-law. From the late twenties, however, he was increasingly occupied with his activities in religious education and consequently the task of earning a livelihood for his family gradually passed to the hands of his wife, Njaji Amir. Hadji Amir’s contributions to the advancement of reformist Islamic cause were numerous. In the late 1910's, he joined Hadji Masjhudi to or ganize Sjarekatul Mubtadi for adult education in Kotagede. At about the same time he started to teach children and young men and women in his own house in Selokraman, Kotagede. The effort soon developed into the estab lishment of a second-class Muhammadijah elementary school and a madrasah (in which only religious lessons were taught mainly to the pupils of the government second-class elementary school). The former grew into the HIS met de Qur'an (Hollandsch Inlandsche School, or Native Dutch Elementary School with Islamic lessons) and, the latter, an Islamic teacher's train- === [PDF page 162] === 138 ing school, Mahad Islamy. Hadji Amir was also one of the co-founders of the Mesdjid Perak (Silver Mosque) with Hadji Masjhudi in the late 1930's. Hadji Amir's activities were not confined to Kotagede, hut extended to the Jogja region and Central Java. Prior to the establishment of Madjelis Tardjih (Council of Scholars of Muhammadijah) in 1927, he orga nized a conference of notable ulama to be held in Kotagede. The partici pants included K.H. Hadjid (Kauman, Jogja), K.H. Mawardi (Solo), K.H. Masjhud (Keprabon, Solo), K.H. Abdul Aziz (Wonokromo), K.H. Abdul Mukti Masjkur (Djedjeran), K.H. Abu Amar (Djamsaren, Solo), K.H. Muhamad Haman (Purworedjo), K.H. Fekih (Kauman, Jogja), K.H. Siradj (Pakualaman), and many others. The purpose of the conference was to discuss urgent theo logical and legal issues of the day and give advice (fatwa) to the Muslim community in Java. As a result a journal entitled Ummat Islam was pub lished with Hadji Amir as the chief editor. Soon the conference and the journal were absorbed by the Madjelis Tardjih of Muhammadijah. Just prior to the capitulation of the East Indies to Japan, the Dutch colonial government set up Mahkamah Islam Tinggi, or the Muslim Appeals Court, of Java and Madura in Solo, and Hadji Amir was appointed one of the judges of the C o u r t. W i t h the coming of the Japanese, he was picked to occupy the newly created Office of Religious Affairs (Kantor Urusan Agama, or Shümuka) of the Jogjakarta Sultanate government. In his capacity as head of the office, he came into close contact with Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX with whom he had constant consultations on religious policy in the Jogja 11 For the background, status and function of this Islamic appellate court in Java and Madura, see Lev (1972:117-122). === [PDF page 163] === 139 region. It is said that, on the basis of Hadji Amir's advice, the Sultan accepted and implemented many reforms, among them a more strict adherence by the Sultan and his family to Muslim obligations than before and a drastic simplification of court ceremonies. In his lifetime, Hadji Amir wrote and edited many books, most of which were commentaries to the Qur'an and Hadith, which were used as text books for the Muhammadijah school system. These included Shohihul Buchori, Al-Qur'an wal Mufdats, Al-Adzkaar, Fathul mannan fie tadjwiedil Qur'an, Adaful walad m a 'a walidihi, 'Iqdul djauhar, Al-Ittiba', Fathul Malikis Shomad, and Kifajatul Muhtadj. His tafsir (commentaries) of the Qur'an, written in pegon (Javanese written in Arabic script), was widely used among Muhammadijah circles. Hadji Amir died at the age of 56 in 1948 after a short illness and was buried in a cemetery in Kampong Boharen, Kotagede, next to the graves of his grandfather-in-law, Hadji Mukmin, and his friend and uncle-in-law, Hadji Muchsin. The two hadji, Masjhudi and Amir, represented two categories of indi viduals from which the early Muhammadi jah movement in Kotagede derived its leaders and following. One was the category of djuragan (entrepreneurs in trade or industry) and the other, ulama (religious teachers) and abdi dalem santri (religious officials). Hadji Masjhudi came from the family of a rich merchant as he himself was until the end of his life. Hadji Amir, son of an ulama, was himself a renowned ulama. About a dozen more indi viduals who were close associates of the two hadji fall into either of the two categories. As mentioned previously these individuals were closely associated with each other, not only through a common religious fellowship === [PDF page 164] === but also through family and marriage ties. It should be appropriate to summarize these relationships in a diagram as follows: Diagram III-l. Genealogy of Muhammadi.lah Founders in Kotagede (1868?-1923) A( 1 9 2 0 's) Atmosudigdo (-1930's) A [Unreadable] H.Mu(;hsin (-1948) Chotl imdjah H.Masduki (Mas -1972) Prof.A.Kahar Prof.Rasjidi (1910-; Dr. Jazid The diagram is a gross abbreviation of actual genealogical relationships. It is intended to indicate several important points of linkages among the individuals who made up the core of early Muhammadijah in Kotagede. On the basis of the biographical information on the founding indivi duals of Muhammadijah I want to make some general remarks about their social characteristics in order to delineate points of difference or con trast between them and the rest of the Kotagede population. Three aspects seem to draw our particular attention: (a) the family and marriage, (b) education, and (c) career patterns. That wealthy merchant families in Kotagede of the 1920's formed exclu- === [PDF page 165] === lUl sive social circles was a fact already noticed by the contemporary obser vation of van Mook (1958:288). Many years later, Castles also recorded a statement of a Jogjanese informant that five leading merchant families in pre-war Kotagede formed an exclusive and endogamous social circle (I9 6 7: 1 1 5, n. 1 7 ). Biographical data I have collected support these observations. It was a well-established, traditional pattern. However, with the advent of the reformist Islamic movement, it seems that there developed attendant changes in the pattern of family and marriage relationships among the seg ment of the Kotagede population which came to be involved in the movement. Changes in three areas are observable: (a) the expansion of marriage circles, (b) the decrease of polygyny, and (c) the elevation of the status of women. It seems to be a conspicuous feature of the reformist families of Kotagede that their marriage circles were no longer confined to Kotagede geographically but were extended over a wide range of areas. The expansion was not only geographic but also social. Djuragan as well as ulama were becoming involved. Reformist santri circles of three districts in Jogja karta, i.e., Kauman, Kotagede and Karang Kadjen, came to be related to each other through mutually reinforcing ties of business partnership, religious fellowship and family and marriage ties. Bani Mukmin (Descendants of Hadji Mukmin), for example, stipulates the purposes of its organization as the promotion of co-operation among the members in the matters of economic activities, religious learning and family relationships on the basis of Islam (Bani Mu'min 1954). A radical reduction of the incidence of polygynous unions among re formist santri is also clearly observable. Generational difference in === [PDF page 166] === 142 this regard is quite contrasting. Among djuragan families of the parental generation of Muhammadijah founders polygyny was a norm rather than an ex ception. Among the generation of Muhammadijah founders, however, polygy nous unions occurred less frequently, and among the succeeding generation, they virtually disappeared. Apparently religious injunction against poly gyny was a significant factor for the change. Reformist teachings defended polygyny (up to four wives) as God-given rights in the face of secular feminist attacks. However, among reformists themselves, the actual prac tice of polygyny was often despised, especially hy womenfolk, as selfish pleasure seeking of males. Reformist teachings imposed rather stricter restrictions on polygyny in that the husband must he able to satisfy eco nomically as well as sexually his plural wives equally and justly and, unless he was capable of doing so, polygyny must be avoided as much as possible. In the case of Bani Mukmin, this change of the reduction in the num ber of polygynous unions is well demonstrated. Hadji Mukmin was a practi tioner of polygyny. However, among his children, less than half of them (three out of eight) practiced polygyny. And among his grandchildren, polygyny disappeared completely. Among Muhammadijah members in Kotagede at present I know of only two cases of polygynous union. In both cases they are geographically as well as socially peripheral to the core members of Muhammadijah, and the unions are looked down upon. Instead, the prac tice of polygyny is now a rather common feature among abangan better-offs. When an abangan male attains a measure of economic success, it is common to take plural wives in addition to other forms of display of wealth. Obviously, closely correlated to the disappearance of polygyny among === [PDF page 167] === 143 santri conjugal unions was the elevation of the status of women vis-à-vis husbands, with religious justification. Regardless of degrees of religious commitment it was already a common social feature for Kotagede women that they enjoyed a high degree of economic independence on the basis of their own earning abilities in trade (shopkeeping as well as peddling) and in some areas of handicraft (batikking, weaving, embroidering, etc.). There were not only merchant 'kings' but 'queens' as well. It was not unusual for wives to earn most of the income for the livelihood of a family while the husbands' contributions remained secondary. Reformist ideology concerning Muslim womanhood emphasized her equality with man in terms of the equal and mutually indispensable share of contri butions by both husband and wife to the formation and maintenance of family. Mutual help, mutual respect and mutual affection between husbands and wives were emphasized as Muslim virtues, and husbands were held responsible for the religious enlightenment of wives whereas wives were encouraged to pur sue religious learning. Women were also encouraged to become responsible mothers whose duties included religious education of young children. Reformist ideology provided a religious justification for the status of women which had been already high facto. In reformist terms, the women's status had religious confirmation, and they were now formally en couraged to participate in organizational activities. Traditional Muslim organizations were men's prerogative. But now men and women, and husbands and wives, were equally encouraged to join in reformist associations. Kotagede women's response to this reformist appeal was enthusiastic. A second point of general significance about the founding fathers of Muhammadijah in Kotagede was their education. The point I want ' make === [PDF page 168] === lUU is that the Muhammadijah education which was characterized by a combination of traditional religious education and modern school system was initiated and instigated not by the western-educated but by those who had undergone traditional pesantren education. This is quite obvious from the experience of Hadji Masjhudi and Hadji Amir. Their education followed a traditional pattern, one subject here in one pesantren and another in the next, culmi nating in the study in Mekka. The fact that Hadji Amir was once a favorite student of Kijaji Hadji Hasjim Asjari, the most prominent traditional ulama in Java, and went to Mekka at his encouragement and blessing typically points up this fact. Hadji Masjhudi's education was similarly not much different from the traditional pattern. The fact that these individuals became earnest promoters of Muhamma dijah 'modern' education should be accounted for not so much in terms of their own educational experiences but rather in terms of the needs arising from their immediate social environment. Their traditional colleagues were largely rural residents whereas they were living in an urban situation in which challenges of industrialisation and monetarization of economy were more directly felt. The acquisition of practical knowledge and skills was badly needed to meet these challenges. This was one of the points toward which urban and rural ulama took different and often mutually hostile stances and made the Muhammadijah distinct from the traditional counterpart. In addition to this broad differentiation between rural and urban ulama in the field of education, there developed another kind of differentiation within the locality of Kotagede, and the two hadjis' subsequent careers also embodied this differentiation. This concerns the relationships of the Kotagede population, especially the leading economic segment of it, to the === [PDF page 169] === 145 political authorities. As mentioned above, Hadji Masjhudi married a ’prin cess’ of the Jogjakarta kraton and he could have taken advantage of this affinal relationship to enhance his economic interest. Indeed, subsequent to the administrative reforms of the 1910’s, the kraton, backed by the Dutch colonial government, endeavored to promote traditional handicraft like batik and silverwork in Kotagede. The kraton sponsored the formation of Pakarjan Ngajokjakarta (Craftsmen's Association in Jogjakarta), an association of djuragan and master-craftsmen, to maintain the traditional craft and make its products competitive in the new market situation. The association frequently organized training courses, set up a permanent dis play center, and sent entries to various trade fairs in Indonesia and over seas. A large segment of Kotagede djuragan and craftsmen was drawn into this association and, as a result, the abangan ideological influence of the kraton was reestablished and reinforced. But Muhammadijah founders mostly stayed aloof from kraton's economic and ideological enterprises and kept to their own economic resources and developed ideological independence. During the decades of the 1920's and 1930's, this process of social, eco nomic and religious differentiation grew rather quietly but steadily. I now want to describe major aspects of this process of differentiation in more detail. SJAREKATUL MUBTADI In this and the following four sections, I focus on organizational aspects of the Muhammadijah development in Kotagede in a rough chrono logical order up to the end of the Dutch colonial rule. As briefly mentioned above, the reformist movement in Kotagede started with the establishment of a local organization Sjarekatul Mubtadi, in the === [PDF page 170] === l46 12 late 1 9 1 0 's. Until I92 I Muhammadijah was confined to the Kauman district of Jogjakarta. In various cities and towns of Java, independent and local reformist organizations were thriving, and they were loosely related to each other through religious colleagueships, business partnerships, and family and marriage ties. In 1922, these local organizations were formally united by Muhammadijah and incorporated into it. Like other local reformist organizations, Sjarekatul Mubtadi in Kota gede was started primarily by local initiative. Hadji Masjhudi was its prime organizer and soon Hadji Amir joined. As indicated by the Arabic name of the organization (Sjarekatul means 'association' or 'union'; Mubtadi means 'to learn' or 'to study' ), it aimed at the advancement of religious education among adult men and women. How ever, the kind of religious education pursued by the new organization was markedly different in a number of ways from traditional Islamic education. Traditional Islamic education was characterized by the teaching of elementary Arabic and the rote memorization of some verses of the Qur'an given by kampong teachers (guru ngadji) to young children, a more advanced teaching of various subjects to young men in pesantren, and the furthering of mystic learnings by adult men through tarekat, devotional orders. 12 Two different dates, 1917 and 1918, are given by informants as the date of the establishment of the organization, and there is no other evidence to make either more likely. 13 For the most detailed description of the traditional pesantren, see Samudja Asjari (1 9 6 7 ). Benedict Anderson has shown me his detailed notes/summary of this interesting work and I hereby acknowledge his help. In English, Geertz' writings (i960:Chapter lU; 1 9 6 5 ) are most pertinent: the former contains the description of a variety of Islamic educational institutions including pondok pesantren in Modjokuto, and the latter discusses the role of Islamic educational institutions for modern Islamic transformation. For tarekat, see Sartono Kartodirdjo (1966:157-165) and also Geertz (1 9 6 O: 182-184). === [PDF page 171] === 147 The new organization was based on the conviction that traditional Islamic education was too incomplete, inadequate, and out of focus to cope with the religious crisis which the community of Muslims faced. Informants who participated in the Sjarekatul Mubtadi, when asked about the purpose of the new organization, invariably replied that is was organized to "deepen" (mendalami) the teachings of Islam, to "strengthen" (menguatkan) the "religious consciousness" (kesadaran agama), to pursue "progress" (kemadjuan) and to "awaken" (membangunkan) the ummat Islam. In other words, the founders of Sjarekatul Mubtadi were convinced that the traditional Islamic education had been too shallow, the religious consciousness too weak, and the ummat Islam backward and asleep. The new organization based upon this conviction was also markedly different in organizational form from traditional institutions of Islamic education represented by pesantren and tarekat. Unlike the pesantren, which had been almost exclusively operated for the education of young unmarried men, Sjarekatul Mubtadi was characterized by education, or more precisely, re-education, of married men and women of middle age. Again, unlike the pesantren, in which the authority of kijaji or guru was absolute and the relationships among the kijaji, his trusted assistants, advanced students and novices were organized in a rigid hierarchy according Those included in the membership and the audience of the Sjarekatul Mubtadi were the adults who fell in the Javanese age category of tijang sepuh (Javanese) or orang tua (Indonesian). The tijang sepuh or orang tua, which also means 'parent(s"P in kinship reference terms, denotes a vast category of married adults of both sexes whose children are still young and unmarried. Thus in reality, the tijang sepuh category consists of men and women of late 20's, 30's, and 40's. Those who have achieved the grandparental generation and well over 40 in age next fall in the category of sesepuh or 'elders’ and become socially inactive except for occasional assumption of advisory role (cf. H. Geertz I9 6 1 ). === [PDF page 172] === l48 to the individual's relative closeness to and the degree of absorption of esoteric lore of ngelmu (mystical knowledge) embodied by the kijaji, the new adult organization was characterized by the principle of euqality among members and emphasis on learning among themselves. In Sjarekatul Mubtadi there was no formal position of guru, although those who were more learned in religious knowledge and more talented in teaching others natu rally came forth as popular lecturers. A few people worked as pengurus, functionaries of the organization, but lecturers were widely sought from among the members as well as from outside. It was to these lecture meet ings of Sjarekatul Mubtadi that many prominent national leaders of Islamic and nationalistic movements of the day were invited to talk. Another difference from the pesantren or tarekat was that the new or ganization emphasized openness of membership and audience. The traditional pesantren, characterized by its geographic and social isolation, was closed to outsiders: the tarekat was by definition a secret association which clearly demarcated insiders and outsiders; the insiders were again strictly graded according to their degree of attainment in mystic learnings. In contrast, meetings of the Sjarekatul Mubtadi were always open to the public and curious newcomers were welcomed and encouraged to participate in dis cussions. Another feature of the new organization was that it placed equal em phasis on both sexes. The traditional pesantren was exclusively for young men, and masculinity was a dominant value in many aspects of its communal life (cf. Asjari Samudja I9 6 T). The mystical tarekat was also the mono poly of adult males. But the Sjarekatul Mubtadi male members were expli citly encouraged by its leaders to take their wives and daughters to its === [PDF page 173] === lecture meetings. Men and women gathered in the same place for public religious meetings. Yet in order to observe the Islamic principle of purdah (the separation of the sexes in public), men and women were sepa rated physically and symbolically by the device of a low-hanging curtain between them; women were also required to wear veils (not covering the face but hanging from the head on both sides) on public religious occasions. The women's section of the Sjarekatul Mubtadi soon got under way with its own leadership and thereafter often organized separate activities for women in coordination with its male counterpart. Also a boy scout organi zation, Krido Mataram, was organized by some of the Sjarekatul members with Hadji Masjhudi as its head. By 1921 it had 250 members (see below). There is no written record to indicate the size of the membership of the adult organization, but informants estimate that it had acquired between 100 and 200 members by the end of the 1 9 1 0 's. In addition to Sjarekatul Mubtadi, a foundation specifically created to raise money was established in the late 1910's. The foundation was called Mardihartoko (literally, ’Supporter of Treasury’ ). The foundation issued shares (saham) at five gulders each, and there were about 1 00 share holders (andil). The capital collected in this way was then invested to buy lands in the amount of about three hectares of rice fields and some dry lands in various neighboring villages. The profits obtained from these lands were divided in the following manner: 3 0 % for share holders; kO% for reinvestment; 30% for Sjarekatul Mubtadi's treasury. The foundation continued its operation throughout the pre-war years, first for Sjarekatul Mubtadi and then for the Kotagede branch of Muhammadijah, and even survived the War. (But the foundation was finally dissolved under the pressure of === [PDF page 174] === 150 land reform in 1963» for its lands were not legally registered as wakaf [properties of religious foundation] but as individual properties.) KRIDO MATARAM It has been well noticed among the historians of early Muhammadi jah that it had put much emphasis on and was quite successful in the field of youth organization. It has also been suggested that this was largely thanks to the personal effort of Kijaji Hadji Dahlan himself who took inspiration from a western style boy scout organization in Surakarta, JavaanschePadvinders Organisatie (Javanese Scout Organization), or J.P.O., sponsored by the Mangkunegaran Court and the Dutch authorities. Modelling on this example, Dahlan founded a Muhammadijah counterpart, Hizbul Wathan (Defenders of Fatherland), or H.W. (cf. Solichin Salam 1963:50 ff.; Deliar Noer 1973:80). Dahlan's inspirations might well have been a historical fact. But it seems that the success of Muhammadijah in youth organization requires more general, sociological accounts. My data suggests that, independent from and parallel to what was happening to the Kauman youth under the direct leadership of Kijaji Hadji Dahlan, numerous reformist youth organizations were developing locally in various places. In Kotagede, Sjarekatul Mubtadi organized a local, independent youth organization, Krido Mataram, at almost the same time with its own start. My primary data are limited to interviews with some of the 'old boys' of Krido Mataram and fragmentary documents. But despite the meagerness of the sources, Krido Mataram attracts our special attention in two aspects. First, its development seems to exemplify one instance of the general pemuda (youth) phenomenon in Javanese society. Second, and more specifi === [PDF page 175] === 151 cally, the organization was undoubtedly formed as part of the process of a large-scale political activation of Javanese youth during the 1910's and 1 9 2 0 ’s. The following will illustrate these points. Hadji Masjhudi was again one of the prime organizers of Krido Mataram. In the late 1910’s, he founded it with several of his friends. He stated to me: "It [Krido Mataram] was an organization for ’children’ [anak-anak]. It was for them to learn the Qur’an together [ngadji bersama] and to play together [dolan-dolan]. ’Children' were invited to join in [diadjak ikut] religious courses [pengadjian], sports [olahraga] like football [sepak bola], parading [pawai] and the like. It was called padvinders (’scout' in Dutch) in the Dutch times. It is pandu (Indonesian word for scout) of today." An informant (born in I8 9 8 ), who is a relative of the merchant king Bahuwinangun and was an ’old boy’ of Krido Mataram, told me thefollowing story about how he joined Krido Mataram: "I married in I9 1 6. After it, I was [still] fond of playing with friends of mine [suka dolan sama teman]. One of them was Hadji Masjhudi. I was then not observing religion yet [belum mendjalankan agama]. H. Masjhudi invited me to come along to religious courses [mengadjak saja, mari datang pengadjian].... 1 was not observing religion yet but was willing to listen to religious courses. The longer the time passed, the happier did I become observing religion. So I went along [with H. Masjhudi] and was assigned a work in the organiza tion. It was the beginning of my participation in.the movement [gerakan] in Kotagede." From the above excerpts of my interview notes, several points of in teresting observation can be made about Krido Mataram. First, it was de fined as an organization for anak-anak, ’children’. The category of === [PDF page 176] === 152 anak-anak here should be contrasted to that of orang tua, 'parents, adults'. 'Children' in this context refers to a broad category of boys and young men in puberty who have already been circumcised. The older part of the cate gory might include married young men without children or with very young children. In other words, they were pemuda, 'youth' of Javanese society (cf. Anderson 1972:2-10). According to Anderson, 'youth' is a liminal stage of Javanese life placed between 'childhood' and 'maturity'. But at the same time 'youth' is liminal in that the state transcends cultural definition by society through temporary separation and withdrawal from it, and in turn is capable of defining society. Pesantren in geographically and socially separate places institutionally embodied the pemuda's liminal state vis-à-vis ordinary society (ibid.). I want to extend on this. The pemuda's separation, independence and defining powers vis-a-vis the society of orang tua were not confined to those young men withdrawn to pesantren. R i ^ t in the midst of society they were able to form peer groups independent of direct control by parents. On the basis of peer group solidarity, young men and boys were tolerated (and sometimes even encouraged) to probe into the limits set by orang tua. Pemuda challenged the perimeters of society and widened them. Second, in the formalization of such peer groups into a voluntary association, Krido Mataram put equal emphasis on 'praying' (pengadjian) and 'playing' (dolan-dolan). Langur (small prayer houses) and ronda (night watch) places had already been centers around which neighborhood boys gathered. Some even slept there rather than in their houses. Krido Mataram was a grand confederation and formal organization of such neighbor hood peer groupings. The name itself is suggestive of this aspect. 'Krido' === [PDF page 177] === 153 in Javanese refers to play-mate grouping for leisure time activities or fun-making such as gamelan-playing, dancing, and pent.jak (stylized self defense art). 'Mataram' is the colloquial generic term for the Kotagede areas derived from the fact that it was the old capital of the kingdom of Mataram. So, put together, Krido Mataram meant a fun-making group for hoys and young men in Mataram, which was a quite appropriate name for the nature of the group. According to a document which I will he quoting extensively below, 'Krido Mataram in Pasargede' had already 250 members, which sug- -gested-%hat—i-t was not an elite organization but had a much wider basis. The document just mentioned above contains further information on the development of reformist Muslim youth organizations in the Jogjakarta re gion. Apparently in the year 1921 when this booklet was written, there were three major youth groups in Jogjakarta; Chizbul Wathan of the Kauman district with 250 members, Wiro Tamtomo ('Bravery') of the Pakualaman dis trict with 350 members, and Krido Mataram of Kotagede. As in the case of Sjarekatul Mubtadi and similar independent local organizations which were eventually amalgamated into Muhammadijah of Kauman, these youth organiza tions were also incorporated into one single organization, Hizbul Wathan, in I9 2 U (Deliar Noer 19T2:8o). The document I refer to here reflects an earlier phase of this incorporation process in which the three youth organi zations were forming a central coordinating body, Centraale Padvinders Vereniging (Central Association of Scouts) in August 1921. This 1 8 -page booklet is entitled Statuten Centraale Padvinders Vereniging Pi Djokjakarta: Dengan Beberapa Keterangan Jang Perloe Bagi Boemi Poetera Hindia Timoer (Statute of the Central Association of Scouts in Jogjakarta; with some Explanation for the Native People of the East India). === [PDF page 178] === 15U Besides the information on the organizational aspect of this develop ment, the document provides us with valuable information on the ideological aspect of these youth organizations. It is methodologically difficult to rely solely on informants' statements when we want to learn about past ideological changes. It is hard to avoid retrospective justifications and to prevent the past from being used as a 'charter' for the present. In this regard, I was quite fortunate to recover this document, thanks to the help of a local bibliophile. The document tells us much about the state of consciousness of the youth leaders of 1 9 2 1 in their contemporary terminology. Like reformist literature since its earliest days the text is in In donesian. The following are excerpts from the document: "The land of the East Indies [Hindia Timur] is the land where we were born [tanah tumpah darah kita, lit., the land where our blood was shed]. We, the people of Indies [orang Hindia], are the native people [Bumi Putra] of this land, whose population is no less than 35 millions. "We all know that our land is extremely rich and yields many kinds of products, whose usefulness is enormous for all peoples [ségala bangsa]. Because of that, it is not strange that many thousands foreigners [orang bangsa asing] have come here to acquire the riches of this land of ours. Up until now most of them have settled here for many generations, while there are also many of them who have gone back to their respective countries. [In either case] they have all attained a noble [mulia] and comfortable [senang] life. "However, how about the lives of 35 million people of the natives of our land? We have all suffered [sengsara] and have become a people of extreme lowness [rendah sekali], differing remarkably from those foreign peoples. ’It has become merely words that we have a land of rich ness: for the authorities [peperintahan] have been totally ignorant [sama sekali tidak tahu] and have only followed and fulfilled rules established in the past [menurut dan menetapi aturan-aturan jang sudah dj adi]. The richness no longer exists but has been drained out. Our knowledge and skills [ilmu kepandaian] have remained === [PDF page 179] === 155 small and extremely rudimentary. Our character [perasa'an budi] has already been destroyed [rusak]. "Everywhere, on the streets or in the villages, we come across our people [bangsa kita] suffering because of poverty [sengsara karena miskinnja]. For instance, many people are sick or dying, for there is nobody who looks after them. It is indeed a matter of great pity [kasihan]. Who is the one that is responsible for helping them? We ourselves, aren't we? To help those suffering is our responsibility [wad.jib kita], we, human beings, who live in this world. "Not only the poor suffer: an ordinary person may also find himself facing unavoidable suffering and in need of help: for instance, what if calamities like fire, flood, falling into a river, sudden illness, or death on the street, being struck by a vehicle, and the like, befall us? "If we let such a situation continue, or remain silent about it or just laugh at it, then it means that we have no human feelings [tiada berhati kemanusia'an]. It should be said that we have no love for our people with whom we live [tidak tjinta kepada sesama hidup]. It should be said that such a person or a people is abject [hina] and their sensibilities [persas'an] are destroyed. A people whose sensibilities are destroyed is also certainly to suffer destruction of their lan guage and land of birth, just like the situation where we are at present. "There are many among our people who certainly acknow ledge love for our people and for our land of birth, but they just acknowledge it and never want to demon strate [membuktikan] it. They are happier and more willing when they are asked a favor by a rich man [orang kaja] or a noble man [orang luhur] than when asked a favor by a poor man [orang miskin]. They get more excited [gugup] when visited by a noble man than visited by a poor man. Help and respect to the rich or noble are more quickly and abundantly accorded than help to poor man, and the like. "That way of thinking is wrong [terbalik, lit., the other way around]: a person or a people, whose skills are high [tinggi kepandaiannja] cr whose wealth is enormous [bankaj hartanja] or whose position is superior [luhur pangkatrja] is perceived more exalted [lebih mulia] than a person of good and honest character [baik dan lurus budi perasa'annja]. That is what is causing === [PDF page 180] === 156 people at the present time to he always greedy for more education [ilmu], higher position, or more wealth, hut not at all to become aware of [the importance of] good and honest character and feelings. "Knowledge and skills [ilmu kepandaian], knowledge of standards [ilmu kederadjatan], and knowledge for making wealth [ilmu kekajaan] all derive from school education, but school education at the present time is in fact less than satisfactory [kurang baik]; it does not yet satisfy our hearts [tidak menjenangkan hati kita]. "As long as school education remains as it is, our off spring will only continue to suffer [terus sengsara sahadja]. In order to exalt [memuli^an] our people and our land or birth, the feelings [perasa*an] of our people must be exalted higher than other kinds of education. "Being aware of the enormous suffering befalling us, there have developed several groups of men and young men [orang-orang atau kanak-kanak] who are willing to help relieve this suffering as much as possible [menolong sengsara itu sekuat-kuatnj a ], that is, the Padvinders (Scouts)." We can reformulate the content of the text as follows: First, the anti-Dutch tone is unmistakable: the Dutch and other foreigners came to exploit the riches of Indonesia and the riches were drained out. Consequently the Indonesian people were suffering. "Every where on the streets or in the villages, we come across our people suffer ing from poverty." (It is interesting that the manifesto says not that "we are suffering from poverty" but that "we come across our people suffer ing because of poverty". This may indicate that the author of the mani festo was looking at the situation from the viewpoint of the kaum pertengahan, i.e., middle class, which did not directly suffer from the adverse effects of Dutch colonial inroads, but rather took some share of the profits of the expanding colonial economy at that time. Yet, the Dutch became richer while the Indonesians were pushed down to "extreme lowness".) === [PDF page 181] === 157 Secondly, the criticism of the indigenous authorities is obvious. That Indonesia was a land of enormous riches became only words, for the indigenous authorities "have been totally ignorant [sama sekali tidak tahu]" and incapable of coping with foreign inroads to protect the interests of the people. They had lost their vitality as leaders of the people and clung instead to the regulations established in the past. Little could be expected from the indigenous rulers for the betterment of the lot of common people. A third point in the manifesto deals with the negative effect of the Western secular education and the necessity to invigorate the ethical feelings of the people. The expansion of the school system by the Dutch provided Indonesians with the practical knowledge and skills needed to ac quire material wealth, but it did not satisfy the feelings of the Indone sian people. Western education resulted in the lessening of human feelings and compassion among Indonesians and strengthened the cult of the rich and the powerful. Alongside practical knowledge and skills, education aimed at elevating the moral character of the people based upon Islam must be promoted. A fourth point that the manifesto emphasized is the necessity for immediate and concrete action. Lip-service to the idea of love of the nation and the people is useless. Action is required in order to help re lieve "public suffering [kesengsaraan umum]". A clause in the text of the statute further specified the action programs which included: (a) Hygiene and physical education to build and maintain healthy bodies. (b) Skills of reading, writing and arithmetic, and first aid and === [PDF page 182] === 158 natural disaster training. (c) General ethical education (ilmu persas*an, lit., knowledge of feelings) in order to cultivate 'genuine human feelings' (perasa'an kemanusia'an sedjati) like love of body (tjinta badan), love of nation (tjinta bangsa), and love of motherland (tjinta tanah tumpah darahnja), and actions to express and carry out these loves. (d) Religious education: the understanding and performance of the teaching of Islam. From the present-day viewpoint the ideology of the manifesto may look extremely unsophisticated and undifferentiated. However, the basic stance of social activism to alleviate public sufferings (kesengsaraan umum) is already remarkably clear. Predecessors of the Muhammadi jah youth organi zation embodied this activism and they were the élan and the cutting edge of the entire movement. CONFRONTATION WITH PKI During the first half of the 1920*s the undifferentiated anti colonialism and general social activism of the early Muhammadijah movement, as exemplified by the document quoted in the previous section, came under an increasing criticism from the left. Nationally, the early 1920's saw the growing radicalisation of the national awakening movements and their polarization between the Islamic and Communist extremes. In 1920 PKI (Partai Komunis Indonesia or Indonesian Communist Party) was founded, and it soon infiltrated Sarekat Islam, causing a split into two factions, S.I. Putih ('White' or Islamic faction) and 8.1. Merah ('Red* or Communist fac tion), at the S.I. Congress of 1921 (cf. Kahin 1952:?4 ff. For more de tails, see McVey I9 6 5:Chapters III through VI.). === [PDF page 183] === 159 Generally speaking, the Communists found their followings in major colonial pozrt cities of Semarang, Surabaja and Batavia (Djakarta). In contrast, traditional Javanese cities of South Central Java, Jogjakarta and Surakarta, were strongholds of S.I. Putih. In this general Javanese political geography of the early 1920*s, however, Kotagede presented an anomaly. In Kotagede, both Islamic and Communist obtained considerable followings. As we noted previously, Sarekat Islam itself was absent from Kotagede, but a strong Muhammadijah branch was present there. The anta gonism between Muhammadij ah and PKI in Kotagede intensified towards the mid-1920’s, and it was only removed with the elimination of local PKI by the Dutch authorities as part of the national repression of PKI resulting from its unsuccessful uprisings in 1 9 2 6. The growing antagonism between Muhammadijah and PKI in Kotagede at tracted the attention of van Mook in 1926 (1958:288, 312 ff.). On the basis of van Mook's contemporary documentation, V/ertheim has suggested in his general work on social changes in modern Indonesia that Kotagede dur ing the 1 9 2 0 's represented a clear-cut case of ideological differentiation of Javanese population into proletarian class consciousness and Islamic bourgeois ideology reflecting the general socio-economic process of class differentiation (Wertheim 1959:220). My evidence suggests, however, that the process of ideological differentiation went along a line rather dif ferent from Wertheim's depiction and the relationship between ideological and socio-economic developments was not a clear-cut one-to-one correspon dence as Wertheim would have us believe. In this section, I want to pre sent a general account of antagonism between Muhammadijah and PKI during the 1 9 2 0 's on the basis of primary sources. I will also attempt to dis- === [PDF page 184] === cuss the nature of the antagonism and its significance for the subsequent course of the Muhammadijah movement in Kotagede. Socio-economically, the early 1920*s saw a rapid growth of the sil verware industry in Kotagede. The silver industry became one of the main fields of economic activity in the town. The number of silver enterprises (perusahaan perak) and the number of those employed by the enterprises in creased. However, the most significant development was the introduction of an innovation in the process of production. Formerly, the entire produc tion process was carried out by a set of tukang perak (silversmith), often the entrepreneur (djuragan) himself, and his apprentices. The size of an enterprise was small, rarely above five employed people in total. Now the innovation was brought in in the form of specialization in the production process. The process of production was split into four or five phases, and those who were employed by a djuragan specialized in a particular phase. At the same time the size of an enterprise became larger. The largest enterprise in the early 1 9 2 0 's already had about fifty hired la borers in total (cf. Tedjo 1970:32 ff., k6 ff.). Together with craftsmen in other fields (batikking, copper and brass work, etc.), the proportion of dependent craftsmen increased. According to van Mook, these dependent craftsmen made up the bulk of a third and the largest occupational group in Kotagede of 1922: "The craftsmen, together with the lesser tradesmen in.food stuffs and similar commodities, constitute the third group. There are a few prosperous persons among them, renowned artisans who fill costly orders from the kratons, but most of the group are highly depen dent on their employers or their clientele" (van Mook 1958: 288). === [PDF page 185] === Ideologically, van Mook suggested that these dependent craftsmen con tributed the local basis for PKI; "Despite the geniality usually dominating Javanese in dustrial relations, many of this group have been hardhit by the pressure of the slump years, and it is no doubt partly as a result of that fact that 'Communism' has gained some influence among them in recent years" (ibid.). Van Mook at the same time put a note in parentheses to the statement as follows: "(As might be expected, there has been a steady, fairly strong opposition to the 'Communist' movement from the more prosperous members of the community. The Mohammadiyyah association has found quite a large following among the better-off in this third group)" (ibid.). On the basis of van Mook's documentation, Wertheim generalized that the Kotagede situation.was a typical example of growing polarization of the Javanese population into the indigenous bourgeoisie and proletariat, ideologically differentiating into reformist Islam and Communism, with Islam becoming increasingly conservative in this situation; "At the time of the communist insurrection of 1926 and 1 927 the Muhammadi jah movement proved, on the whole, completely loyal to the Netherlands Indian Government. Moreover, in the purely Javanese town of Kuta Gede, where there were neither Europeans nor Chinese, and where accordingly the class con trasts within Indonesian society could develop nor mally, the division between the supporters of the Muhammadij ah and of communism coincided almost per fectly with the division between the established merchants and the poor artisans" (Wertheim 1959: 220). === [PDF page 186] === 162 At a closer look at local information, I have found that the van Mook- Wertheim way of depicting the 1920's Kotagede situation has to be modified at least in the following three points: (a) as far as the local PKI lead ership was concerned, it was not derived from the 'third group' of depen dent craftsmen; (b) the PKI following was organized not so much along the line of common economic interests of the 'poor artisans' vis-a-vis entre preneurs but rather by appealing to the general hatred of the Dutch over lords; (c) as a result, the antagonism between Muhammadijah and PKI was expressed in purely political or religious terms. Wertheim's statement about the 'complete loyalty' of Muhammadijah towards the Dutch colonial government will be discussed further on a later occasion. According to local informants, the PKI core group in Kotagede during the 1 9 2 0 's consisted of about ten individuals, who included one village tjarik (clerk, or secretary), one pradjurit kraton (palace guard), one post office employee, two government elementary school teachers, one tukang emas (goldsmith), and a few other tukang. None of them was a 'poor arti san'. The village secretary was from a family of the pre-reform bekel and was quite well-to-do. The palace guard was a relative of one of the 'mer chant kings'. The government employees were receiving lucrative salaries according to local standards. The goldsmith was indeed quite rich, and when he returned to Kotagede after World War II he became one of the rich est silver entrepreneurs. The communist movement in pre-war Kotagede, as the local perception of it is concerned, did not represent a poor segment of the local population. The mass following for PKI was organized in a local branch of Sarekat Rakjat (People's Union) with several scores of membership. It is likely === [PDF page 187] === 163 that the Sarekat Rakjat members were generally 'worse-off than the core communist group. But it was quite interesting to note that neither the PKI group nor Sarekat Rakjat organized labor disputes during the 1920's. Indeed, labor disputes seldom occurred in the local industrial scene. No trade unions were organized. As van Mook pointed out, 'the geniality usually dominating Javanese industrial relations' may account for this absence of labor dispute. However, I think it is better understood in terms of the personalized relationship between entrepreneurs and employees and of high mobility among laborers. The entrepreneur (djuragan) commonly called his employees sabat (from sahabat, meaning 'friends', 'partners' or 'colleagues'), and was expected to give all-embracing care for the latter. The most important ethical value governing the relationship between the two parties was mutual 'trust' (kepertjajaan). If this was not achievable, it was mainly the entrepreneur who was to blame, and the employee was free to go and seek a better match with another entrepreneur. Besides, almost all dependent craftsmen aspired to become independent some day and it was rather easy to start a small but independent enterprise for himself when he had learned sufficient skills and cultivated proper business contacts. Indeed, the history of the silver industry during the 1 9 2 0 's and 1 9 3 0 's was a con stant process of splitting up of large enterprises into smaller ones, often initiated by formerly dependent craftsmen (cf. Tedjo 1972:Chapter 3). This high mobility, vertical and horizontal, was certainly not conducive to the devej-opment of class solidarity among the 'poor artisans'. The major issue of antagonism between PKI and Muhammadijah was, then, purely 'political' so far as the Kotagede local scene was concerned. PKI advocated direct action to overthrow the Dutch colonial regime. Muhammadi jah, === [PDF page 188] === 16U although no less anti-colonial, did not let the organization become in volved in such an action. Muhammadijah took religious enlightenment of individuals as its primary task and regarded its political involvement rather as detrimental to the performance of this task. Although individual members were accorded the freedom of political action as individuals, Muham madi jah took the stand that political action without religious conviction was groundless or harmful to its task of religious enlightenment. This antagonism between religion and politics was dramatically ex pressed in an incident of clash between Muhammadijah and PKI in conjunction with a PKI congress held in Kotagede in 192U. This congress, in fact, marked a turning-point in the history of PKI in colonial Indonesia. In the congress a decision was taken to start an all-out effort to make a re volution in the near future (McVey 1965:273). The decision led PKI to stage unsuccessful uprisings in 1926-1927. As a result of the subsequent repressions by the.colonial government the party disappeared from the political scene entirely until 19^5. This historic 1924 congress of PKI in Kotagede was not only nationally significant. The occasion left a deep imprint on the ideological developments among Kotagedeans because the open clash between PKI and Muhammadijah had taken place at a mass rally held as part of the PKI congress. In the following I will present a reconstruc tion of the event on the basis of a Dutch source and local information. First, PKI wanted to find a meeting place for the congress in Jogja city proper. However, because of the strong anti-Communist influence of 8.1. Putih and Muhammadijah in the city, it was impossible for PKI to se cure a safe meeting place there. At an open propaganda meeting of PKI held in Jogja in August 1924, Communist speakers had been shouted down by === [PDF page 189] === 165 S.I. and Muhammadijah members in the audience. So PKI, determined to have its congress in a more secure place, chose Kotagede (cf. McVey 1965:294). In the event, Kotagede turned out to be no more secure than Jogja. The closed sessions of the congress were conducted without incident from December 11 to 15 in a pendopo near the Kotagede market. But when PKI attempted to hold an open, public propaganda rally in the same place on December l4, a large number of Muhammadijah members showed up among the audience of about 1,000 people. The following is a description of the incident taken from a contem porary secret report sent by the Resident of Jogjakarta Dingemans to the Governor-General of the Netherlands Indies (Mailrapport l8X/25). Here are excerpts of the report; "Since it was already known to the Jogja authorities that Muhammadi jah members, especially those who belonged to the organization, Ummat Islam^°, a political arm of Muhammadijah, were planning to obstruct the PKI rally, a large number of police troops were mobilized and pre sent in the meeting place, and put at the disposal of the Police Assistant Wedono (District Police Chief) who was personally present at the spot to maintain order. "Prior to the opening of the rally, the police au thorities took a precautionary measure and removed two potentially disruptive Muhammadijah members, Hani and Raden Reso, from the pendopo in which the podium was located. Another Muhammadijah leader, Hadji Hadjid, then started his speech criticizing the Communists without obtaining the chairman's permission and before the already prepared Communist speakers had had their turns to speak. Hadji Hadjid was not satisfied with this and even continued to say to the police, 'Watch ^^The organization Ummat Islam appeared to be an ad hoc action group to encounter anti-Islamic provocations led by one of the Muhammadijah central leaders, Hadji Fachruddin, a young hadji nicknamed 'Lion (Singa) of Muham madi jah' for his vigor and aggressiveness. === [PDF page 190] === l66 out, you policemen, otherwise there will be blood shed.', At this point, the police stopped him and dragged him outside the meeting place. Then Hadji Hadjid's supporters shouted, 'Muslims should all get out of here!' To this some Communists shouted back, *Moh [No, we refuse it]'. "Then Hani who had been removed from the podium, and his followers began to heckle the Communist leader Alimin's speech which criticized Islam. His speech was interrupted, and Alimin got angry. He and his supporters all stood up and yelled, 'Now hecklers must get out!' Hani was then dragged away by the police, and his followers walked out of the place. "Some Communists were not satisfied with this and complained to Alimin, 'The police are powerless.' To this District Police Chief Raden Danudinoto replied, 'The police are not powerless, but it cannot distin guish between one and the other party members.' (The party members did not wear party symbols.) Then Com munist leader Muso said to his members, 'Since the police can do nothing, my own party had better do it.' Then Muso and his followers stood up and wanted to take action, but they were forbidden to stand up by the District Police Chief. "All the while, Hani and his followers, who had already been removed from the meeting, still remained near the meeting place, and kept shouting, 'True Muslims must also get out!' and other slogans. For the remain der, however, no other significant incidents occurred." Resident Dingemans added to the report that "quiet" (kalm) but "forceful" (krachtig) use of police forces was sufficiently effective to prevent further serious clashes between PKI and Muhammadijah members and that employment of regular military troops proved to be unnecessary. He admitted that PKI earned a sort of minor success by having got rid of Muhammadijah obstructors, and for this consequence "careless" (onvoorzichtig) and "tactless" (ontactvol) action of the Muhammadijah was to be blamed. He also observed that the militant anti-Communist stance of the Muham madi jah was a very recent development and while Hadji Dahlan was still alive === [PDF page 191] === 167 (he died in 1 9 2 3 ), he preached tolerance and stressed the many points of common ground between PKI and Muhammadijah. His successor, Hadji Ibrahim, continued to emphasize Muhammadij ah's tolerance, but many Muham madi jah members, especially those active in the organization of Ummat Islam, became increasingly impatient, defending Islam as the only true religion. PKI was not actually against Islam; it proclaimed itself an organiza tion of the proletariat regardless of race, color and religion, and its core members mostly consisted of young, unmarried, propertyless individuals. The developing friction between PKI and Muhammadijah were mostly caused by the aggressive anti-Communist campaign of the latter. "Careless" and "tactless" as it might have been from the viewpoint of the colonial administrator who was preoccupied with the maintenance of pub lic order, the action taken by the Muhammadijah at this PKI rally was re garded by the Muhammadij ah members themselves as a brave and sincere ex pression of their determination that Islam and Communism were incompatible and hence no real Muslim could adhere to PKI. The action was based not on political calculation but on religious conviction. Leaders of this anti-Communist action, Hani, Raden Reso and Hadji Hadjid, came from Jogja, but most of their 'followers', who heckled the Communist speakers and who staged a walk-out of 'true Mui.lims', were from the local Muhammadijah in Kotagede. According to some Muhammadijah infor mants who had personally joined in this action, it was not intended to ob struct the rally itself or to engage in open debate with Communist speakers, but rather to let the general Muslim audience who was attracted to or curious about PKI propaganda know that 'true Muslims' should not support PKI. In one informant’s words: === [PDF page 192] === 168 "It was not so much a direct challenge to PKI, hut rather a self-injection of the message to Muslims that they should never accept Communism, for it is opposed to Islam in principle. If a Muslim was weakminded or inadequate in his religious consciousness, he m i ^ t be attracted to Communism, but never a true Muslim." Another informant put it more blatantly: "PKI denigrated [mendjelekkan] religion. We didn’t like it. So we went to the PKI rally, and it became noisy [ramai]." This position was, however, not predominant among politicized Muslims of the early twenties. Although the Central Sarekat Islam had already split into Islamic and Communist factions, many of its local branches had not been differentiated ideologically, and an Islamic Communism which as serted that the Communist program for proletarian revolution was justified in terms of the Qur’an had been earnestly believed and propagated by many 'red ulama', such as Hadji Misbach who had been extremely popular in the Surakarta area (cf. McVey 1965:171 ff.). As a consequence, PKI em phasized the religious inclusiveness of its movement, sometimes directly playing on Islamic aspirations, and tried not at arouse Islamic hostility. In this situation, Muhammadijah's demonstration of the exclusiveness of Islam and the challenge of choice between Islam and Communism before the Muslim masses, in the form of interruption and walk-out at the PKI rally in Kotagede, catalyzed subsequent organizational splits in many other places on Java. 17 If a Hadji Misbach mentioned in the 1923 Muhammadi jah congress report (Versing Moehammadij ah 1923:10) is the same person as Hadji Misbach men tioned in McVey (ibidT), it suggests that this famous ’red hadji' of Solo was still a Muhammadi jah member then and proposed to its 1923 congress a resolution urging the organization's involvement in politics. The resolu tion was deferred by the congress, but the report mentioned his name in very cordial terms. === [PDF page 193] === 169 In spite of the anti-Communist position of Muhammadi jah, the organiza tion did not support the colonial government which was the immediate target of PKI •.Muhammadi jah continued its criticism of colonial rule in its own terms. As McVey has said, "Such opposition [to PKI] may have inspired the official promotion of anti-Communist movements, but it was soon clear that the two counter movements had quite different sources" (McVey 1965:294). In fact when the attempted Communist uprising turned out to be a disastrous failure and thousands of PKI leaders and supporters, including ten Kotagedeans, were arrested and many of them sent to exile in Boven Digul in New Guinea, Muhammadijah was sympathetic to them, and main tained that most of the rebels were motivated by Islamic aspirations but wrongly manipulated (salah diguna) by a tiny group of Communists. SOCIAL ACTIVISM: SCHOOLS AND WELFARE ACTIVITIES Clifford Geertz has employed the term 'scripturalism’ to characterize Muhammadijah and similar reformist Muslim movements in Modern Java (Geertz 1 9 6 8:6 0, 6 5 -7 0 ). The term may be apt when employed to distinguish between reformism and traditionalism in terms of difference in the source of 'truth' on which they rely. For the traditionalist Sjafai'ite it is legal tradi tions, and for the reformist it is the Holy Scriptures, the Qur'an and Hadith. However, it seems to me that such a terminology, 'scripturalism' or 'legal traditionalism', is too narrow to summate effectively the salient features of these different Islamic orientations. In my view, the most Only two of the ten Kotagedeans survived the ordeals of exile in Digul and war-time relocation in Australia. They returned triumphantly to their native town after the war, and formed the nucleus of the post-independent Communist movement in Kotagede. === [PDF page 194] === 170 fundamental contrast between the traditionalist and reformist is to be found in their basic posture to society. In this regard, reformism can be best defined as 'social activism' adapting Drewes' terminology (Drewes 1 9 5 5 ) while traditionalism somewhat awkwardly can be defined as 'individual passivism'. In the former, each and every Muslim is urged to realize Mus lim obligations in the social dimension, i.e., in relationships with other fellow Muslims regardless of one's relative advance in religious knowledge: overt action is the most valued measure of a 'true' Muslim. In the latter, individual Muslims are dependent upon the learned ulama who has ultimate monopoly of the 'truth' and through whom the 'truth' is imparted to ordi nary Muslims; emphasis is placed upon individual enlightenment and salva tion, and social concerns are secondary. Characterization of Muhammadij ah as social activism seems also apt to distinguish it from political activism of PKI. The period of some fifteen years after the collapse of PKI in I926 -I927 up to the coming of the Japanese in 19^2 witnessed a full devel opment of Muhammadijah social activism in a quiet but steady manner. In concrete terms, the social activism of the Muhammadijah movement has been expressed in its continuous promoting of education and social welfare projects. Some foreign observers believed this to be Muhammadijah's imitation of, or reaction to Christian missionary activities which had become conspicuous around the turn of the century (for example, see Van Niel 1960:85). It cannot be denied, and there is much evidence to sustain the.claim, that the early Muhammadijah leaders were inspired by Christian missionary activities, especially in their outward and formal organizational forms. But there existed a basic difference between the proselytizing activities of the two religions. For Christian missionaries. === [PDF page 195] === 171 schools, hospitals, orphanages, etc., were not so much the end of mission ary activities as a means to induce conversions. For Muhammadijah, how ever, similar activities were the end of its religious mission, a fulfill ment of religious obligations. In Muhammadij ah's perception of 'true' Islam, religious education was a must: a 'true' Muslim was obliged systematically to keep learning God's message by using one's own reason from childhood to death. Hence the promotion of one's own religious learning as well as that of other Muslims, especially one's immediate family members, formed an integral part of fulfilling one's religious obligations. The promotion of material and physical well-being of oneself and fellow Muslims was equally a Godgiven obligation. Aside from reform in the collection and distribution of zakat fitrah (religious taxes), Muhammadi jah emphasized the promotion of its welfare activities, hospitals, clinics, orphanages, etc., as a ful fillment of Muslim-obligation. Contribution to these educational and wel fare activities were of religious merit and welcome in the form of labor, money or material. Especially welcome was the donation of real property. From the beginning, this kind of social activism was a conspicuous feature of the Muhammadijah movement in Kotagede. By the late 1910's when Sjarekatul Mubtadi was still an independent local organization, a Muham madi jah 'second-class native school’ was founded in Kotagede using a pendopo as its classroom, and Hadji Dahlan himself came to officiate its opening ceremony. 19 19 The reason why a Muhammadijah school, instead of a ’Sjarekatul Mubtadi' school, was established seems that the former had already acquired the status of a legal personality from the Jogja government whereas the latter was an 'unauthorized* organization. === [PDF page 196] === 172 Already in the early 1910's the Jogja government established a secondclass native school in Kotagede but it was quite unpopular. Abdi dalem families were already sending their children to a kraton school in Jogja or Solo. Only a fraction of bekel and rich merchant families were induced to send their children to this new school, and only nine entered in the first year. The rest of the population in Kotagede remained indifferent. As a Muhammadijah elder put it: "Kotagedeans did not think much of school education. They did not need 'certificates' or 'diplomas' be cause their livelihood came from being bakul (trader) or tukang (craftsman). Only government officials (pegawai) sent their children to this school but there were not so many pegawai in Kotagede. The government school was for both boys and girls, but there were no girls at all attending it." In contrast, Muhammadijah schools were a great success. Its secondclass native school soon acquired a permanent building by donation and en rolled hundreds of boys and girls. In the late 1920's an HIS, in which the Dutch language was taught, was added and also a girls' school specializing in housekeeping, sewing and childcare. By the late 1920's, the Muhammadijah school system in Kotagede steadily grew to overshadow the government school so that even some prijaji families began to send their children to Muhammadij ah schools. In the beginning under the guildance of Kijaji Amir, these Muhammadijah schools were staffed by young men who had been educated at pondok. But soon after the schools got under way, some of their graduates continued their education in Mualimin or Mualimat (Muhammadijah's teachers' training schools in Jogja established in 1922), and upon graduation they came back to teach in Muhammadi jah schools in Kotagede. By the 1930's, the self- === [PDF page 197] === 173 sustaining character of the Muhammadijah educational system was established. In addition, Kijaji Amir's madrasah located in his own house became a fullfledged religious teachers' training school, Mahad Islamy, by the late 1 9 3 0 's and attracted mainly santri children from the hinterland of Kotagede. The mid-1 9 2 0 's witnessed another major breakthrough in reformist Islamic education in Kotagede whose significance extended far beyond the local scene. Three families sent their sons directly to Mekka and then to Cairo, effecting one of the first direct contacts between reformist Islam in Java and the center of Islamic reformism in the Middle East. One of the Cairo sojourners from Kotagede reminisced about the situation: "I went to the Muhammadij ah's second-class elementary school in Kotagede and completed its four years. Then I went to a 'normal school' of Muhammadijah in Jogja [teachers' training school in general subjects]. In that school I met a young man whose Arabic was extra ordinarily good. I asked him where he studied it, and learned that he had spent some years in an Arabic school.in Solo. So I wanted to go to the same school in Solo and my father allowed me to do so. In the Arabic school I spent three years. Then I wanted to go on to a secondary school. But since I had no Dutch language training at all, the path to MULO (Dutch lan guage middle school) was closed to me and I was already fifteen years old. There was no hope of getting se condary education in Java. My brother and cousins were already in Cairo and I thought I might try a way out in Cairo, too. My father agreed to give me finan cial assistance and in 1930 I arrived in "20 C a i r o. The sending of these young men from Kotagede to Cairo was brought about by a juncture of several developments during the 1 9 2 0 's and the early 20 Vicissitudes of war, revolution and personal sufferings prevented this young man from returning to Indonesia, but his cousins. Professor A. Kahar Muzakkir and Professor M. Rosjidi who went home in the mid-1930's became prominent leaders of the reformist ummat Islam since then. === [PDF page 198] === 174 1 9 3 0 ’s: first, the rise of religiosity among certain prosperous families in Kotagede; second, the aspiration for more advanced education, religious as well as secular, among the younger generation of these families; third, the absence of opportunities for such education in Java; and fourth, the increasing attraction of Cairo as the center of such education. Such de velopments were taking place not only in Kotagede but also in many other Javanese urban centers. As a result, the 1925-1935 period witnessed a peak of Javanese student population in Cairo (cf. Roff 1970). During the latter half of the 1930's, several Cairo returnees joined the central leadership of Muhammadijah and contributed to it a great deal of intellec tual and organizational sophistication. To return to the Kotagede scene proper, Muhammadijah schools came to occupy the mainstream of local education by the end of the 1930's. The consequences of Muhammadijah education were manifold. First, it enhanced an Indonesian national consciousness through Islamic idioms. Second, through Muhammadijah schools, the ideology of reformist Islam was widely disseminated. Third, it promoted the spread of practical knowledge of modern science. A measure of religious nationalism of Muhammadij ah was indicated by the adoption of Malay, or what later came to be known as Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian), as its organizational language. Indonesian had long been the lingua franca of the Malay Muslim world prior to the development of modern nationalism. As early as the l890's Snouck Hurgronje observed that in Mekka Malay was used as the medium of interethnic communication among the Jawah community consisting of "all people[s] of Malay race in the fullest meaning of the term; the geographic boundary is perhaps from Siam === [PDF page 199] === and Malacca to New Guinea" (Snouck Hurgronje 1931:215, 229 ff.). Many Indonesian hadji who stayed long enough in Mekka or in other parts of the Malay Muslim world often acquired a degree of fluency in In donesian, which provided a channel of political communication in the 1 9 1 0 's for the spread of the national awakening movement. As it grew as a national organization, Muhammadijah adopted Indonesian as the official language of organizational activities. Kijaji Dahlan was fluent in Indonesian. His successor, Kijaji Ibrahim, was not, but Hadji Fachruddin, the vice president, was an eloquent speaker in Indonesian and helped to cover Ibrahim's deficiency in this regard. Muhammadijah's na tional meeting and publications were carried out in Indonesian. And most 21 importantly, Indonesian was adopted as a subject in its school curriculum. The practice, well established over the period of two decades prior to the outbreak of World War II, created a large number of bilingual indi viduals fluent in Indonesian as well as their native Javanese. (A consi derable number of them also knew Arabic, and some knew Dutch as well.) This group of individuals made up the immediate audience for and often active participants in national politics when the independent republic was 21 It has been customary in the post-independence literature (for example, Pringgodigdo 1950) to refer to the event of the Oath of Youth in 1928 as the origin of the official ascendancy of Bahasa Indonesia as the national language: the Oath of Youth which was participated in by the widest re presentation of the nationalist movement of the day declared the ideals of "One nation (Indonesia), one flag (red and white), one anthem (Indonesia Raya), and pne language (Indonesian)". However, this view tends to under estimate the contribution of the reformist Islamic community to the promo tion of Indonesian as a common language prior to the nationalist develop ment. Anderson's analysis of the political language in modern Indonesia (Anderson I9 6 6 ), which is extremely insightful for the understanding of the Javanization of Islam in the pre-modern era in terms of obscurantism of Javanese-Arabic bilingualism, also suffers from a neglect of the role of reformist Islam for the advancement of Bahasa Indonesia. === [PDF page 200] === 176 born in 1945* (According to various sources, I have roughly estimated the number of bilingual individuals in Kotagede at the end of World War II as somewhere between 5 Û0 and 1,0 0 0, about 1 0 % of the total adult population A typical bilingual (or trilingual) speaker with Muhammadijah educa tion spoke Javanese in the family, neighborhood, workshop or market, Indo nesian in the Muhammadijah organization, and Arabic in religious studies and services. This was certainly a reflection of the existence of cleav ages among the three basic cultural traditions, but at the same time it meant that the individual had acquired a capacity to bridge these cleavages. The world of those who used Indonesian was no longer merely regional but had Indonesia as its point of reference. As an elderly Muhammadij ah member put it: "Children of my generation did not know what Indonesia was. What is Indonesia? There is no Indonesian people. What exists is 'Javanese'. In the [govern ment] primary school the geography of Indonesia was not taught, only the geography of Java. The language taught there was also only Javanese. Teachers spoke Javanese in the classroom, too. Counting numbers was also in Javanese. The change of Dutch policy to what was named 'Ethical Policy' brought higher education to Indonesian children. This was aimed not at raising education of Indonesian children, however, but at meeting the demand of Dutch offices. So MULO, HIS, AMS [senior high school], up to the higher education were established. But Indonesian children benefited from it, too, although indirectly. They got a ride [menbotjeng] of it and got well educated. Muhammadijah did not unfairly criticize government of Christian missionary schools. Muhammadijah demanded fair com petition with them and requested government subsidies and received them." Another feature of Muhammadijah school education, the separation of Arabic as an independent subject, was a crucial step in the view of the === [PDF page 201] === ITT reformists. In the pesantren, Arabic was taught as part of the Qur'an chanting: after learning the Arabic alphabet and pronunciation, verses from the Qur’an were learned by rote, and exegeses of the particular verses were given in Javanese. There was no instruction in Arabic as a language. Althou^ it was often rudimentary, Muhammadijah schools taught Arabic vo cabulary and grammar as an independent subject. (This had already been experimented with as an innovation in the Qur'an learning among the Jawah community in Mekka in the late 19th century when Snouck Hurgronje was stay ing there (cf. Snouck Hurgronje 1931:26t ). The new method employed by the Muhammadij ah school encouraged independent understanding of the Qur'an and and Hadith by the students themselves. Questioning and discussion of the meaning of a particular word or verse were also encouraged in the class room. "Botjah, dimardekaaké pikire! [Children, do independent thinking!]", a phrase quoted from a speaker in the 1925 Muhammadijah congress, well de- 22 picts the mood of early Muhammadij ah schools (Mailrapport No. U6t X/25:13). Muhammadijah schools also emphasized the learning of Islamic history which was juxtaposed to the history of Indonesia. In teaching Islamic 22 The level of the Arabic fluency of Muhammadijah activists seems to have been often underrated by foreign observers. Since I am quite illiterate in the language, I have no standard to measure it. But, through my field observations, I have come to realize an interesting fact that the same Qur'anic verses are translated differently by the same mubaligh (propagan dist) on different occasions or by different mubaligh on the same occasion. The propagandists usually quote the Qur'anic verses in Arabic and then add Javanese or Indonesian translations. In so doing, they do not use 'stan dard translations' of the Qur'an. In fact, such a thing does not seem to exist. Translations are always ad hoc and adjusted to the situational context of the quotation. The fact that mubaligh are capable of doing this smoothly seems to suggest that their knowledge of the Qur'anic Arabic is not based upon mechanical rote memorization but rather upon a deeper comprehension of Arabic grammar and vocabulary. === [PDF page 202] === 178 history, the glory and perfection of its early period were emphasized and contrasted to the regressions of the subsequent periods of Muslim world history, including that of Indonesia. The upshot of casting Islamic his tory in that perspective was to hold Muslims themselves responsible for the regressions and degeneration, urging Muslims to realize their respon sibilities and strive to restore the greatness of Islam in the modern world. Another feature of Muhammadijah education to be remarked upon was the teaching of practical scientific knowledge. Mathematics as well as basic biology, chemistry and physics were taught as part of ilmu kegunaan (prac tical knowledge). Biology was connected to basic hygiene, and other natu ral sciences and mathematics were taught in connection with vocational training. Basic to all this was a religious notion that nature works reg ularly as a result of God's creation and that man, God's creature equipped with God-given rationality (akal), was capable of understanding natui’e's regularity and was indeed obligated to make good use of it. This admoni tion to acquire scientific knowledge and apply it to everyday life seems to have been conducive to the introduction of various technological inno vations by several Muhammadijah members in the field of economic activities in Kotagede. In summary, if we are to find 'modern' education in Kotagede, it was not the unpopular government school, but the Muhammadijah schools which were its prime embodiment. In the Kotagede of the twenties and thirties the Muhammadij ah school was practically synonymous with 'modern' school. Patrons of Muhammadij ah schools were not limited to Muhammadijah members alone. Individuals from a much wider spectrum of religious orientations === [PDF page 203] === 179 and status groups sent their children to Muhammadijah schools. Underneath a surface of quietism, the Muhammadijah school system pro duced hy the end of the 1 9 3 0 's a large number of young men and women who were literate, fundamentally nationalistic, religiously convinced, well adapted to modern economic conditions, and well trained in associational activities. This category of younger generation indeed formed an enormous reservoir for the outburst of radical nationalism in the following phase of Indonesian political history. At the end of the 1930's, Bousquet, a shrewd French observer of colonial Indonesia, noticed this 'long-run dan ger' of Muhammadijah for the Dutch colonial regime. He stated: "In the political field the Mohammadiyya is neutral in the sense that it refuses to take sides officially. Its exclusive object is to spread Moslem culture. For this very reason, in contradistinction to the nation alist groups, it is held in high favor by the [Dutch] authorities. It would be very wrong, however, to suppose from this its members entertain no political bias..Indeed, it would not be wholly incorrect to say that they are quite as anti-Dutch as other nationalists, Moslem or otherwise. I can vouch for this. Yet the government displays great solicitude toward this society, an attitude which I do not think shows much political intelligence" (Bousquet 19^0:5). Subsequent developments in modern Indonesian history proved that Bousquet's observation was well grounded. P.K.U. (Penolong Kesengsaraan Umum, or literally, 'Assistance for the Relief of Public Suffering') was another field in which Muhammadij ah's so cial activism was formally institutionalized. It was first begun in 1918 as an independent organization by several Muhammadijah members in Jogja karta in order to engage in relief activities for victims of the eruption of Mt. Kelud's. In 1921 the organization was officially made a department of Muhammadijah (cf. Noer 1973:78 ff.). === [PDF page 204] === 180 I have alrea<^ commented on the importance of the notion of 'public suffering' in the reformist youth movement. What was meant was widespread, general suffering which had been caused by foreign rule and subsequent de generation of Islamic morality. Relief of this suffering throu^ immediate action was viewed as fulfillment of Muslim obligations and a path to the recovery of Islam's glory. Thus poor-houses, orphanages, clinics, hospi tals and delivery houses were built and maintained by Muhammadijah branches. Muhammadijah hospitals and clinics employed modern medicine, posing a direct challenge to traditional Javanese healing practices. A patient who visited a Muhammadijah clinic was explicitly discouraged from asking for simultaneous help of dukun (magical healer). Thus Muhammadijah hospitals and clinics not only worked as pure medical agencies but also as agencies for the propagation of reformist Muslim ideas. Beginning in the late twenties, a reform in the collection and dis tribution of zakat fitrah (religious taxes collected at the end of the fasting month) was made part of P.K.U. activities. Prior to the reform, zakat fitrah in money and kind (rice) were collected by kaum, modin and penghulu (religious officials of hamlet, village, subdistrict and district levels respectively) and distributed among themselves as reward for their religious services. But Muhammadijah claimed that the practice was wrong in the light of the Qur'anic teaching and the matter should be entrusted to a group of representatives of ummat; furthermore, the amount of the tax should be as prescribed by holy scriptures, and it should be distributed for the relief of the poor and needy (fakir miskin). Muhammadijah reform in zakat fitrah also was a direct challenge to the authority and material support of traditional religious officials. === [PDF page 205] === 181 Naturally they vehemently resisted and Muhammadi jah gained varying degrees of success according to local conditions. In the most successful cases these religious officials were won over to Muhcmmadijah or replaced by its members. In Kotagede, a P.K.U. clinic was established in the late twenties through wakaf of land and building by Hadji Bakar (Hadji Masjhudi's older brother) and several other Muhammadijah members. The clinic was staffed with a number of trained nurses and a midwife and regularly visited by a physician from the Jogja P.K.U. hospital. Until the government opened another clinic and Gadj ah Madah University a delivery house after the war, the Muhammadi jah P.K.U. clinic constituted the only modern medical facility locally available to Kotagedeans. MESDJID PERAK Muhammadij ah schools and clinics, despite their conspicuousness, con stituted not so much an alteration of the traditional social and spiritual order as an introduction of new ideas and new. organizations alongside old ones. It was a matter of personal choice to choose between the new and the old. However, when Muhammadij ah's reform effort touched upon the issue of control over the Great Mosque in Kotagede, it posed a direct infringe ment on the established religious authority of the principality courts and the interests of their local personnel who derived their status from them. It could no longer be a matter of personal preference. The Great Mosque had been a public institution through which the local populace and the kraton authorities were spiritually bound. Muhammadijah's challenge posed a grave threat to this spiritual status quo ante. Towards the latter half of the 1930's, the antagonism reached its zenith and resulted in the estab === [PDF page 206] === 182 lishment of a new mosque, Mesdjid Perak (’Silver Mosque') by MuhammadiJ ah. In this section, I want to reconstruct the processes of this antagonism on the basis of contemporary documents and local information. In an earlier part of this chapter I discussed the tensions between kraton authorities and Muslim leaders, which contributed to the formation of Muhammadijah as an organizational expression of the latter's criticism of the former. The frictions between the kraton and Muslim leaders in creased through the early decades of this century. From the Muslim view point, the Ethical Policy was seen to have 'Christianization politics' (kerstening politick) as an essential ingredient. It was true that from the turn of the century the Dutch colonial government gradually lifted the time-honored self-imposed restrictions on the activity of Christian mis sions and openly favored their efforts to convert the Javanese population. In this regard, Muslim suspicions and resentments were not groundless. For example, a 1901 government circular which recommended setting Sundays as official holidays and suspending all levels of government activities on Sundays, including lesser Javanese officials, inevitably aroused Muslim criticism that the government was eliminating Muslim Friday holidays. The 1905 guru ordonnantie ('teachers' ordinance') attempting government con trol over ulama and their pesantren caused widespread commotion among Mus lims. A 1910 decree discouraging local government officials from insti tuting new circular markets on Sundays was received as another attempt to substitute Christian Sunday holidays for Muslim Friday holidays. Vastly increased government subsidies for Christian missionary schools from 1902 on were seen as an unfair favor given to the Christians at the expense of the Muslims (cf. Noer 1973:172 ff.). === [PDF page 207] === 183 In this situation, Muslims naturally looked to the indigenous Javanese rulers of the principalities for the protection of Muslim interests. They were in theory still independent rulers of the Javanese principalities and were expected to exert their influence to curb the Dutch 'Christianization politics'. Part of the titles of both Susuhunan and Sultan of the princi palities indicated that they were 'Abdurrachman Sajidin Panato Como', the General Master and Regulator of Religion. The Islamic concept of rulership denied any divinity to the ruler, who was nevertheless expected to be the most devout Muslim as an example for the rest of the population, and the leader, protector and regulator of the Muslim community. In practice, however, the Javanese rulers were increasingly viewed by Muslim leaders, traditionalist and modernist alike, as playing the role of protecting Dutch and Christian interests rather than those of their Muslim subjects. Numerous incidents of what were believed to be unfair favors given by the rulers to missionaries, obstruction by local officials of Muslim movements, and especially the slackening of observance of Muslim duties among court circles dismayed devout Muslims. The native rulers were regarded as failing to live up to their titles, the protector and regulator of the religion of Islam. This mood is vividly illustrated by a scene from the 1925 Congress of Muhammadijah reported by then Advisor for Native Affairs, R. Kern: " [The congress discussed the matter of reduction of the Jogja Sultan's subsidy to Muhammadijah's poor-house. The speaker, Hadji Soedjak, who headed the P.K.O. De partment reported as follows.] 'The poor-house has been operating for about three years now, and the Sultan was giving a subsidy of f.1,200 a year. This was so under Resident Jonquiere but now new Resident Dingemans has come and he has cut it down to a half. === [PDF page 208] === 18U By this the P.K.O. is suffering.* (Laughter. The speaker asked the audience not to laugh. [The cause of the laughter was obviously the pun the speaker em ployed; the P.K.O. which aimed at relieving public suffering was now suffering from the new Resident's decision].) '5 0 % of the subsidy had been taken away,' the speaker continued, 'because the Sultan, Abdurrachman Sajidin Panato Gomo, the Generous Master and Regulator of Religion (jeers), wants to erect his own poor-house with assistance from the sugar fac tories and under the control of missionaries. We have been working without receiving any material re ward, only because our duty is to help'" (Mailrapport No. 467 X/25:ll). This particular issue was resolved in favor of Muhammadi jah in the follow ing year, the full subsidy being reinstated, partly owing to R. Kern's ad vice. However, this action did not eradicate the feelings of distrust and frustration against the kraton circles already prevalent among the Muslim community in the Jogja region. Against this background, we can better understand the conflicts over the Great Mosque in Kotagede. Indeed, the tensions between the kraton and the reformist Muslim movement in Kotagede were more acute than in many other places in the principalities because of the particular character of the town. In Kotagede the Mosque-Royal Cemetery (Pasarejan) Complex had long been the locus in which the kraton's cult of royal glorification and adat Islam of the local populace were intrinsically interwoven. The 1920 re form in administration separated religion and administration by eliminating appanage system, and the population was no longer obligated to support directly the complex and its personnel in the form of tax and labor. How ever, even after the reform, official ideology and long-established folk practices lingered on. In this situation, Muhammadi jah's anti-adat Islam campaign went far beyond the level of challenging traditional religious === [PDF page 209] === 185 orientations of individuals to the level of open defiance of the religious authority of the indigenous rulers. The Great Mosque of Mataram in Kotagede had been used for court r i t - ■ uals as well as for liturgical rituals of local Muslims. It was not only a royal property but also the mosque for the local ummat Islam, community of Muslims. Traditionally, the local population accepted the leadership of court-appointed Mosque officials in liturgical rituals. In addition, a number of specialists of adat Islam centering around the Complex were pa tronized by the kraton authorities. The status of these semi-official specialists was derived from and was rooted in the legendary past, and it had been sustained by the personal favor of successive rulers. The earliest clash between Muhammadi jah and adat Islam over the Pasarejan-Mosque Complex was instigated by the former's attack on the role of a particular woman dukun (magician, magical healer), who had been living in the kampong located in the front court of the complex. Lesser Mosque functionaries whose ancestors were said to have been brought to settle there by the founder of Later Mataram, Fanembahan Senopati, lived in this kampong. The woman was believed to have a special mystical ability to communicate with the spirit of Senopati and her mediation was often sought by visitors who came to the Pasarejan to request Senopati*s help. As a part of its campaign against superstition, the Kotagede Muham madi jah declared that what she had been doing was nothing but tachjul (su perstition) and indeed a negation of tauchid (the unity of God), and de manded that local authorities forbid her to perform her dukun role in the Pasarejan. Hizbul Wathan (Muhammadij ah Boy Scout) youths picketed the Pasarejan, and minor skirmishes occurred between these youths and the === [PDF page 210] === 186 woman's family members and neighbors. Police were called in to separate the quarrelling parties (cf. Rasjidi 1967:12). The woman was eventually allowed to continue her magical performances while Muhammadijah remained openly hostile, seriously injuring her reputation. In the late 1920's Muhammadijah also requested that the practice of distribution of small sums of money on the occasion of maleman (all night prayers) in the Great Mosque in the month of Puasa should be forbidden. Muhammadijah argued that the practice was attracting people to the reli gious meeting by luring them with monetary reward and, further, it dis turbed the quiet and orderly atmosphere which was necessary for the per formance of prayers. This request was granted by the authorities, and thereafter the practice disappeared from the grounds of the Great Mosque. Another, more serious conflict occurred in the mid-1930's when Muham madi jah attempted to reform the way in which Friday prayers and sermons were traditionally given. The reform request did not materialize but in stead led to the establishment of a new mosque, Mesdjid Perak ('Silver Mosque'). The following description of the processes leading to the formation of Mesdjid Perak has been taken mainly from a locally published booklet entitled Riwajat Mesdjid Perak Kotagede ('History of the Silver Mosque in Kotagede', Nawawi 1957). The booklet was written by a member of the Tabligh (Religious Propagation) Section of Kotagede Muhammadijah in 1957. The purpose, of the booklet was, according to its preface, to dispel mis understandings concerning Mesdjid Perak still found in a certain segment of local population even after twenty years of its existence in Kotagede. Since it was addressed to non-Muhammadijah local audience, it was written === [PDF page 211] === 187 in Javanese and took the typical Javanese tack of approaching the issue in a roundabout way. The booklet is, therefore, not only a good documentation of the development of Mesdjid Perak itself viewed from within, but also an appropriate illustration of the way Muhammadi jah 's messages were put before the abangan audience. The preface states that the book gives adequate answers to four ques tions which are entertained by some people in Kotagede: (l) the reasons for the construction of a new mosque in addition to the old one; (2) the question of the new mosque being exclusive to Muhammadi jah members; (3) the meaning of the name, Mesdjid Perak; and (U) the relationship of the new mosque to the kraton authorities. The author spells out the questions as follows: "Why should there be a new mosque in the community of Islam in Kotagede in which there already had been a large and beautiful mosque which was the royal property (kagungan dalem) of the Surakarta and Jogjakarta kraton? Why was it necessary for the able (pinisaged) and the wealthy (parasugih) to conceive and construct a new mosque? Was it true that the new mosque was the contribution of Muhammadi jah and therefore it was only to fill the need of Muhammadi jah and was visited exclu sively by its members and sympathizers? Was it true that the new mosque, Mesdjid Perak, was so named be cause of the fact silverware entrepreneurs (djuragan perak) exclusively contributed to its construction? Was the view correct that there was discord (pasulajan) between the royal servants (abdi dalem) who were en titled to control over the royal mosque (kaparingan panguwaos-anguwaosi masdjid kagungan dalem) and the religious leaders (panuntuning agami) as well as Mu hammadi jah leaders? As a result of these doubts some people were led to believe that Mesdjid Perak is less holy and less valid because its construction was not based upon [the devotion of] 'For God, the Almighty alone' (Lillahi Taala) but rather derived from the outlet of lowly desire (hawa nabsu). Many people are inclined to believe that Mesdjid Perak is disharmoni ous with the proper qualities (boten tjotjog kawontenan === [PDF page 212] === 188 saleresipun) [which a mosque should possess]" (Nawawi 1957:1-3). The author of the booklet observes that these views are all wrong (panggalihan ingkang boten). These misguided views resulted from inade quate understanding of the circumstances (lingkungan) of the construction of Mesdjid Perak. The writer asserts that there are no bases in keeping the general public of Muslims (saderek Islam umumipun) in Kotagede from making use of Mesdjid Perak, which indeed is a "property of Lord Allah (Kagunganipun Gusti Allah)" (ibid.:3). Then the author gives a general picture of the religious situation in Kotagede between 1925 and 1940 leading to the foundation of Mesdjid Perak: "The years around 1925 were a golden age (wakdal kaemasan) for Muslims in Kotagede. Especially Muhammadijah was active in holding religious courses (pangaosan) in every hamlet (dusun) for the old as well as for children so that Kotagede came to be recognized as 'kampong Islam’. Muham madi jah also established schools and a clinic.... There were many langgar (prayer houses) constructed anew in numerous places and numerous religious courses were given there as well as in ordinary houses. Among those pangaosan, the one that at tracted the largest number of pupils was Kijaji Amir's in Kampong Selokraman. Although Kijaji Amir's house was a large one, it soon overflowed with pupils who came to receive lessons from him. Older boys among his pupils then went out to hold religious courses in the neighboring villages.... Everywhere religious courses progressed, became larger and larger, and the religion of Islam spread wider and wider, and followers of the religion increased" (ibid.:4-8). The author then returns to the position of the Great Mosque in this general upheaval of religiosity. Its immediate consequence was the abso- === [PDF page 213] === 189 lute increase in the number of people who came there to pray daily and especially on Fridays: "The porch (serambi), which was large, was not large enough. Especially for Friday prayers in the fast ing month, people had to sit on the ground in the yard of the Mesdjid" (ibid.:8). As a result, chotbah (sermon) given in the inner hall of Mesdjid were heard only with difficulty by those who sat on the edges of the porch, not to mention the people sitting on the ground in the yard. Seeing this situation, Muhammadij ah proposed that the mimbar (pulpit for sermon) be moved from the inside of the inner hall to the porch. So as not to invite the government's rejection on the basis of tradition (the existing mimbar had a particular legendary past dating back to Senopati's reign), Muham madi jah proposed that a new mimbar be made and placed on the porch so that it should become easier for the audience to listen to the sermon. The proposal was eventually accepted by the authorities. This was around the years 1926 or 1927 (ibid.:9-12). Another consequence of the increased religious intensity in Kotagede, according to the author, was that when a religious meeting or lecture ad dressed to the general public was held, there was no one place large enough to accommodate a large attendance. Kijaji Amir held the view that the Great Mosque was the most appropriate place for such an occasion. The reason was that it was not only physically large but that a mosque should be the place for acquiring religious knowledge (ilmu) and engaging in re ligious discussions in addition to performing prayers (sembahjang). How ever, the Great Mosque, as property of Surakarta and Jogjakarta royalty. === [PDF page 214] === 190 was already in frequent use for the kraton's ceremonies, especially on Islamic holidays. In order to have public religious meetings in the Great Mosque, a written request for permission had to be submitted to both the Surakarta and Jogjakarta courts. It usually took weeks and sometimes even months to obtain permission. Permission for the use of the Great Mosque for a pub lic meeting was usually granted unless it conflicted with a kraton cere mony, but it happened time and again that requests were denied. If per mission was denied by one government, it was the same as being denied by both. Especially from 1937 the government's regulations on public meet ings, even including religious ones, were tightened, and it became more difficult and cumbersome to obtain permission (ibid.;12-l6). Facing this situation around the year of 1937, Kijaji Amir and his colleagues thought of the idea of constructing a new mosque for Kotagede Muslims themselves, "a mosque which was not bound by regulations and which was free from any hindrances" (ibid.:16-17). This idea was also accepted by the Muhammadijah leadership, which appealed for wider cooperation from the general Muslim community in Kotagede. Organization of the construc tion of the new mosque got under way without the formation of a formal committee (panitya) or functionaries (pengurus). The effort was voluntary and spontaneous. "With devotion (ichlas), everybody participated according to one's own capability. Indeed Mu hammadi jah leaders, the able (pinisaged), the wealthy (parasugih) and others, all formed a committee without writing down their names, only reciting Bismillahir Rahmanir Rahim ('In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate') and saying 'I make a mosque Lillahi Taala (For God, the Almighty alone)'" (ibid.;20-21). === [PDF page 215] === 191 Every Sunday, the 'panitya*, which was always attended by more than one hundred people, met in Kijaji Amir's house. The rich contributed money; the poor, skills and labor. H. Muchsin and Hadji Muzakkir each contributed 300 rupiahs. Hadji Muzakkir also contributed another TOO rupiahs to buy the land for the mosque. In collecting money, womenfolks' contributions were very significant, for in Kotagede the position of women in economic matters was extremely essential. Youths also contributed their labor and ideas. Thus with the accumulation of about 3,000 rupiahs in money and an innumerable amount of skills and labor, the new mosque was completed in 1939 and officially inaugurated on the Islamic New Year's Day in 1940 (ibid.;21-31). Toward the end of the booklet, the author explains that the name Mesdjid Perak (Silver Mosque) derived not only from the fact that djuragan perak, silverware enterpreneurs like Hadji Muzakkir, were among the primary promoters but also from the fact that the white color of silver meant pur ity and holiness and was appropriate to symbolize unselfish religious de votion (ichlas) expressed in the construction of the Mosque (ibid.:31-32). Later a committee of functionaries for the management of the Mosque was organized and headed by Kijaji Amir. The committee included two pen^ulu from the Great Mosque in its members. After the death of Kijaji Amir in 1948, Hadji Masjhudi succeeded the headship of the committee (ibid.:38). The booklet ends here. The conflict with the principality authori ties is deliberately de-emphasized. This may be partly because of the Javanese value of avoidance of disharmony in public and partly because of Muhammadijah's concern not to injure the image of the new Sultan of Jogja whose reputation was high among Muslims. However, the conflict with the === [PDF page 216] === 192 kraton authorities was undoubtedly a major factor in the construction of Mesdjid Perak. When I asked Hadji Masjhudi about the beginning of Mesdjid Perak, he answered frankly; "The Great Mosque was under the control of abdi dalem and we [Muhammadijah] were not so free to do this and that according to our needs (semaunj a kami). We were not satisfied (kurang puas) and decided to build a new mosque which we can use freely (setjara bebas )." Another elderly Muhammadijah member also told me: "In the 1 9 3 0 *s, there was a Solo abdi dalem who was particularly stubborn, sticking to traditional reg ulations in order to check Muhammadijah activities. We just could not stand him." Mesdjid Perak symbolized the independence and separation of reformist Muslims from kraton's religious authority and adat Islam. By constructing the new mosque, reformist Muslims acquired independence and self-control insofar as religious matters are concerned. They stood out, distinct from the traditional spiritual order. A second generation Muhammadijah leader who was once Kijaji Amir's student stated to me: "In fact there is another meaning for Mesdjid Perak. The meaning cannot be understood if one is not good at Arabic. In Arabic, firaq (pirah in Javanese pronunciation) means 'being separated and indepen dent', terpisah in Indonesian. Thus Mesdjid Perak in fact means mesdjid firaq, a mosque of separation; an independent mosque. [It symbolized the] separa tion of ummat from kekotoran (dirts) and kebekuan.(stagnation) of the past. Only santri people were able to understand this hidden m e a n i n g. "^3 23 Even among reformist Muslims like this informant, who are presumably most alien to the Javanese tradition, the Javanese liking of kerata-basa, "a === [PDF page 217] === 193 It should be remarked at the same time that Mesdjid Perak not only embodied a separation but a continuity as well. The fact that two penghulu from the Great Mosque were included in the chotib for the new mosque points up the line of continuity Muhammadijah endeavored to maintain. The two penghulu commanded respect from abangan as well as santri for their un selfish personalities, strict orthodoxy in their religious behavior, and genuine devoutness. Later, mainly through the efforts of these two penghulu, the Great Mosque itself was opened up for Muhammadijah's full 24 participation in its management. With the establishment of the Silver Mosque the prewar Muhammadi jah in Kotagede was now completely equipped with a full set of organizational apparatus to promote its activities. However, the outbreak of World War II changed the situation drastically. In the next chapter we will follow thesubsequent development. 23, cont. kind of folk etymology" (according to Moertono) is still alive. (For the explanation of kerata-basa and its illustrations, see Moertono 1968:21, n.l4. Also, for another example of kerata-basa and discussion of its im plications for Javanese religious syncretism, see Anderson 1966:93.) 24 Since a few years after World War II, partly owing to the impoverishment of court treasuries and partly as a result of rising 'anti-feudal' feel ings, the control of Mesdjid Ageng has been freed from the kraton, although it is still jointly owned by the two kraton, and handed over to a committee in which local djurukuntji, former penghulu, Muhammadijah members and others are represented. Nowadays, the Great Mosque is used as frequently as the Silver Mosque by Muhammadijah for its large public meetings. === [PDF page 218] === CHAPTER IV THE SOCIOLOGY OF UMMAT ISLAM: STRUCTURE AND ANTI-STRUCTURE "Nowadays anybody can become any kind of person (siapa-siapa bisa mendjadi apa-apa sadja). The main point is how one behaves; like prijaji (berprija.ji), like santri (bersantri), or like abangan (berabangan). It is her, ber, ber ('doings') that makes the difference" (interview with Kijaji Hadji Masjhudi, 2 November 1971). In this chapter, first, I shall deal with the more recent history of the Muhammadijah movement in the town of Kotagede subsequent to the period covered in Chapter III. However, my approach in this chapter will be more present-centric. I will be primarily concerned with explaining how the present state of the movement (1 9 7 0 -1 9 7 2 ) has come about through the events and the processes of the immediate past (1 9 ^0 -1 9 7 0 ). Secondly, I shall at tempt to delineate the major sociological characteristics of t.he Muharamadijah members in contrast to the rest of the local population. I shall pre sent some statistical data and describe the patterns of interpersonal re lationships and.the life style characteristic of Muhammadi jah members. Thirdly, I shall deal with the ritual behavior of Muhammadijah. I shall present my external observations as well as exegeses given by Muhammadijah members. My intention for including internal conceptualization by actors themselves is that external sociological features alone cannot fully ac count for the significance of religious behavior of the Muhammadijah members. 194 === [PDF page 219] === 195 The main points of argument I want to make in this chapter are as fpllows: (a) I question a commonly held view that the history of Islam in post-colonial Indonesia is a history of defeat and failure. I contend that it is inappropriate to equate Muslim political parties' gain or loss with the success or failure of more general Islamic movements like Muham madi jah. The relationship between religion and politics can be better understood when we regard religion as sui generis, and the history of interplay between the two as that of cyclic association and dissociation. (b) I also question the validity of a sort of economic determinism often employed in explaining the relationship between modern Islamic move ments and socio-economic variables. I would agree that there obtained in the late colonial period a congruency between the socio-economic interests of thriving indigenous urban middle class and the ideology of Islamic re formism. But I would suggest that it was not a lasting process but a temporary phenomenon. The War, the Revolution, and the subsequent socio economic changes drastically affected the pre-war class basis of Muham madi jah. The socio-economic environment in which the Muhammadijah move ment is operating now is that of impoverished urban subsistence economy, and its ideology and ritual must provide the relevance for much wider segments of population than the pre-war counterpart. The fact that the movement is not only sustaining itself but even gaining new followers in this environment suggests that we must come up with a better explanation than that of regarding reformist Islam as bourgeois interests expressed in religious idioms. === [PDF page 220] === 196 (c) As an a3.ternative/complementary approach to the conventional social structural one, I take up the lead suggested by Victor Turner (1 9 6 9, 1 9 7 4 ). His notion of 'communitas' and 'anti-structure' seems to point up to the generative and defining aspect of certain modes of religious be havior. I would attempt to examine the notion of ummat Islam (Community of Muslims) and attendant ritual behavior of Muhammadijah not as a marker for a pre-existing social grouping but rather as something pointing up to a particular sort of reality and relationship between individuals in the religious context, which may be termed 'communitas' or 'anti-structure'. RELIGION AND POLITICS The history of Indonesian Islam in the three decades (1940-1970) through the periods of the Japanese occupation (1942-1945), the Revolution (1 9 4 5 -1 9 4 9 ), the parliamentary democracy (1950-1959), the Guided Democracy (1 9 6 0 -1 9 6 5 ), and the New Order (1966-present) has usually been seen as a history of the failure of Muslim attempt at making independent Indonesian and Islamic state. By the manipulation of the Japanese occupation authori ties, Muslim forces acquired organizational strength and a stature in na tional politics comparable to that of civil servants and secular nation alists. In post-revolutionary politics, Muslim political parties were strong enough to keep playing a significant role in successive coalition governments, but not strong enough to realize their goal of an Islamic state through parliamentary means. The insufficient strength of Muslim forces for their claim to the national government was typically shown by the results of the first general elections held in 1955 in which they failed to obtain a majority in spite of the fact that approximately 90% of Indo nesians professed to be Muslims. The Muslim frustrations found an outlet === [PDF page 221] === 197 in earlier independent armed revolts and later alliances with large-scale rebellions led by regionalist military officers in the outer islands. With the defeat of these rebellions, and of the suspension of parliamentary democracy, however, Muslim political parties were largely incapacitated and forced to cooperate with Sukarno's Guided Democracy or simply to be silenced. Java-based traditionalist Muslims (NU) took the first course, and the outer islands-based reformists (Masjumi), the latter. With the downfall of the Sukarno regime in 1966, Muslim political forces were allowed to participate again in national politics now in the framework of the New Order regime. However, the Muslim goal of an Islamic state is fundamentally incompatible with that of the military controlling the pres ent regime, and consequently Muslim forces are given only an extremely weakened position in the New Order regime. Muslims' frustration continues to obtain in this situation, but it seems unlikely that they will even re gain in the foreseeable future the strength they had once enjoyed during the parliamentary democracy period as evidenced by the poor showing Muslim political parties achieved in the second general elections held in 1 9 7 1, let alone the possibility of attaining their ultimate goal of an Islamic state. As a political analysis, the foregoing 'orthodox' view seems plau sible. However, in a wider perspective of the relationship between reli gion and politics, the view poses more questions than answers. One of the important questions is whether it is appropriate to regard Muslim politi cal leaders as 'alternative elite' or 'counter elite' who are contending for power in competition with other secular political elites. Such a perspective seems to have derived ultimately from Harry Benda, who viewed === [PDF page 222] === 198 the early post-colonial Indonesian politics as "a three-cornered contest" between the prijaji, Muslim leaders, and modern nationalist leaders with the increasing significance of military leaders and the younger generation as new claimants to political influence and power (1 9 5 8:2 0 3, 1965:131). This kind of view may be appropriate if we confine our attention to the developments at the level of national politics. Certainly in the arena of parliamentary politics Muslim parties were failed. Militarily, Muslim armed revolts were defeated. But through my field experience I have come to appreciate the paradox of a sort of entropy operating in a fine area existing between the sphere of religion and that of politics: a loss or gain in the former does not necessarily entail the same effect in the latter, and vice versa. When I entered Kotagede and first met some former leaders of the Masjumi Party there, who were supposed to have been 'failed* and 'de feated', I was impressed by the fact that they showed no indications of bitterness or lament over their past. This impression led me to question the 'orthodox' view on the role of Islam in modern Indonesian politics. I became interested in learning directly from these individuals their views on the subject. The following are major points of observation I made from my contact with them. In contrast to the 'orthodox' view which regards the Japanese occu pation period as being a period in which Muslim political forces gained unprecedented strength vis-à-vis the prijaji and secular nationalists through the manipulative policity of the occupation authorities (Benda ibid.), Muslim leaders who had actually enjoyed 'ascendancy' viewed what happened during this period to be a straight continuation of their pre-war === [PDF page 223] === 199 course of action. 'We have just kept going straight (djalan terus sadja)' was the typical answer to my inquiry. All the 'favorable treatments' given to the Muslim forces by the Japanese were viewed as the long overdue recti fication of numerous wrongdoings by the Dutch colonial rulers. These in cluded the appointments of prominent Muslim leaders to the leadership posi tions of numerous consultative bodies and mass organizations, the recogni tion of Muhammadi jah and Nahdatul Ulama as legal organizations in contrast to the prohibition of all the pre-war secular political parties, the strengthening of the religious bureaucracy along the lines close to the Muslim demands, the sponsorship of a grand union of Muslim organizations, Masjumi (Consultative Council of Indonesian Muslims), the formation of an exclusive Muslim paramilitary organization (Hizbullah), and the like. In Kotagede alone the change of policy by the Japanese was directly felt: for example, Kijaji Hadji Amir was appointed to the head of the newly formed Religious Affairs Office for the entire Jogjakarta Sultanate region and Hadji (later Professor) A. Kahar Mudjakkir was appointed to various positions at the Djakarta level of the occupation administration. Cer tainly, Muslim leaders appreciated the Japanese for all this, but they regarded what Japan had done for Indonesian Islam as ultimately no more than what any sensible ruler would have had to do sooner or later. More specifically, Muslim appreciation of the Japanese occupation was focused on the 'spiritual' side: the occupation experience had enhanced Muslim self-confidence in their organizational skills and strength, and the semangkat api Islam ('firing spirit of Islam') was heightened. On the other hand, the Japanese policy and the war-time situation imposed many restrictions upon the activities of Muslim organizations. === [PDF page 224] === 200 They lost the freedom of coordinating the activities of local branches through national congress, for it was forbidden by the Japanese. Even meetings of local branches were restricted to purely religious services. Their auxiliary youth and women’s organizations were forced to be absorbed into larger mass organizations created by the Japanese sponsorship. All in all, none among the Muslim leaders I met felt that they had been given extraordinary favors by the Japanese authorities. The declaration of independence and resultant fightings first between the new Republican forces and the remaining Japanese troops and then the incoming British/Dutch forces created an entirely new situation. In the Jogjakarta region, the transfer of sovereignty was marked by the bloody assault at the Japanese garrison barracks in Kotabaru by the Indonesian special police forces in October 19^5. Shortly thereafter the young Re publican troops engaged in one of the first large-scale battles with the invading British troops in the areas between Ambarawa and Magelang in October/November. This battle, which was participated in by many Kotagede youths, brought the first tactical victory of the Republican forces over the Allies. At the invitation of the Sultan of Jogjakarta, who had earlier expressed his allegiance to the independent Indonesian Republic government, the capital of the Republic was moved from Djakarta to Jogjakarta in April 1946. The city became the center of a national revolution for indepen dence. Various reforms from the above aimed at democratiizing the admin istration of the Jogja Sultanate as part of the Republic (cf. Selosoemardjan 1 9 6 2 ). The second Dutch ’police action', however, brought the capital and other major cities and towns in the region including Kotagede under the Dutch occupation from December 1948 to June 1949. These six months were === [PDF page 225] === 201 a time of extreme hardships and heroic fights for the Jogjanese. Most of the national leaders including Soekarno and Hatta were captured by the Dutch. But the Republican troops survived the Dutch surprise attack and engaged in guerrilla fightings backed by strong popular support. Even tually, the popular resistance and the U.ÏÏ. intervention brought the Dutch recognition of the sovereignty of the Republic of Indonesia in December 1949. But the cost of independence was very high. Many Indonesian lives and properties were lost in the fightings with the Dutch invaders. Com pared to the battle of Kotabaru in October 1945, in which only eighteen Indonesians were reportedly killed, the six months of the Dutch occupation of the Jogjakarta region resulted in all together the casualities of more than three thousand civilians and soldiers killed or missing, and about five hundred wounded. Property damages, mostly public buildings, amounted to approximately Rp. 332,000,000 (Republik Indonesia XII:112). In Kota gede, too, the Dutch occupation inflicted an extraordinary loss of human lives and properties. More than one hundred people, mostly civilians, were killed and most of the office buildings and many private houses on crossroads were burned down. The Dutch occupation was a period of indiscriminatory terror and violence, A village tjarik (clerk) was shot to death when he failed to produce a list of other village officials. A group of young boys returning from a langgar after performing the daily noon prayer.were gunned down without warning leaving five dead instantly. Most of the other victims in Kotagede during this six month-period were mere violators of the curfew killed in their own kampongs by the Dutch patrols. === [PDF page 226] === 202 In addition to the direct threats to the himan lives caused by the Dutch attempt to retake Indonesia, the Revolution period was also a time of grave sufferings due to such natural calamities as droughts, famine and epidemics and also due to such socio-economic hardships as inflation, blackmarketing, corruptions, and crimes. It was felt that society was thrown into a fundamental turmoil and the people were undergoing a historic catastrophy (cf. Anderson 1972: especially Chapter l). The Muslims participated in the revolutionary struggle on an unpre cedented massive scale. The defense of national independence was equated with the defense of Islam. Islamic symbols inspired the struggle for in dependence and against the return of the old colonial social order. Muslim mass organizations, especially that of youths, spearheaded sponta neous actions to resist the Allied/Dutch invasions and 'social revolutions' in various parts of Java, and formed one of the most important elements in popular revolutionary forces. The scale and the mode of the Muslim participation in the revolution ary politics of the 19^5-19^9 period attracts our special attention. First of all it made quite a contrast to the basically non-political stance of the pre-war Muslim organizations. However, upon hearing the declaration of independence in August 19^5, all the major Muslim organizations swung their full weight behind the cause of national independence. The active participation and involvement of Muslims in revolutionary politics were religiously justified and encouraged. This full swing of Muslim political involvement cannot be explained solely in terms of the effects of politi cization of Islam during the Japanese occupation period. Nor is it easy to account for it in terms of the institutional channels for the representation === [PDF page 227] === 203 of Muslim interests created by the newly established Republican government. The scale of the Muslim participation was much larger than that and the mode was of a more deep-rooted and spontaneous nature. The Muslim politi cal participation came mainly through numerous 'struggle organizations' (badan perdjuangan) rather than through 'normal' organizations. Neither Muhammadijah nor Nahdatul Ulama's national headquarters played a significant role in leading and coordination these local movements. Even Masjumi, which was reconstituted as a political party in October 19^5» was inca pable of harnessing the spontaneous flood of revolutionary energies of Muslims. Instead of these 'regular' organizations, numerous units of Hisbullah, Sabilillah, Lasjkar Rakjat (People's Militia) and many other 'struggle organizations' were formed, and they became the organizational framework through which revolutionary energies of the Muslim masses were channeled. The significance of Muslim elements in the personnel as well as the ideology of the newly formed Republican regular army was apparent from the beginning.^ In the revolutionary situation it was felt that an extraordinary time in history had arrived. It was as if Islamic ideals were momentarily ^The foregoing characterization of Javanese society in the period of the Revolution in general and of tke significance of massive Muslim partici pation in it in particular owes much to Benedict Anderson's superb analy sis (1 9 7 2 ). But I would go further than he in recognizing the pervasive ness of Islamic symbolism in this period. For example, the radio speech of General Sudirman, which Anderson has quoted as a typical example of the blending of the traditional Javanese ideal of the satrya-warrior and the Japanese military ethos infused in the Indonesian youth during the occu pation period, sound almost entirely Islamic to me. Perhaps my reaction is conditioned by the fact that among Muhammadi jah youth circles with whom I became familiar in the field. General Sudirman, who had been a Muhammadijah school teacher and a local youth leader before embarking on a mili tary career during the Japanese occupation period, is commonly regarded as the foremost exemplary Muslim hero of the Revolution (Anderson 1972:377)* === [PDF page 228] === 204 realized on earth: unselfish devotion and sacrifice for the defense of Islam and the nation, comradely solidarity and egalitarianism among the independence fighters and the population at large, the endurance of mater ial hardships for the higher cause. The struggle for independence and a just social order was not a political action in the narrow sense of the word but rather the spontaneous outburst of the feelings of religious devo tion and the desires for the fulfillment of religious obligations. The vision of a new social order was congruent with the Islamic vision of a true uimnat ('community of Muslims'), and daily experience in the 'struggle organizations' confirmed it. In the Revolution, religious consciousness was much heightened, and religion and politics were merged and engaged each other. The experience of the Revolution has come to acquire lasting values not only for the entire generation of direct participants of the Revolu tion but also for the successive generations. The 'Generation of '45' (Angkatan '45) has come to be imbued with the nature of a symbolic paradigm for the following generations. The Revolutionary period was a period in which an extreme amount of "symbolic deposits", to borrow Victor Turner's terminology (1974:102), was accumulated in modern history of Indonesia. The Indonesian Revolution, however, ended as a national revolution, not as a social one. With the return of 'normalcy', religion and politics, once inseparably merged in the revolutionary period, were again separated from each other. The religious community became distinct from the exist ing social order again. It is indicative to observe that, despite strong politicization effects of the 1955 general elections, both Muhammadij ah and Nahdatul Ulama in this period reconfirmed the nature of their organi === [PDF page 229] === 205 zations as primarily religious, returned to the position of non-involvement in politics and resumed the 'ordinary* work of education, missionary and social welfare activities which had suffered great damages and retardation in the Revolution. Making the 1955 general elections as a peak, Islamic movements in general gradually dissociated themselves from politics and thus returned to the position of a corrective social and moral force visà-vis the incumbent power holder rather than themselves becoming an aspi rant for political power. It is also interesting to observe that, since Muslim political activists of the Revolutionary period had not regarded their political or military career as their prime goal of their lives but rather as a temporary suspension of their original course of life and as a self-sacrifice forced by the extraordinary circumstances, they were not unhappy to return to 'normal' lives and re-engage in the religious activi ties per se. Here lies, I believe, an explanation for the absence of bitterness or regret among Muslim activists of the '45 generation who had once occupied prestigious political leadership positions until the late 1 9 5 0 *8, from which they were violently removed in the course of the decline of parliamentary democracy and the advent of Guided Democracy. Political developments in Kotagede during the 1950's and early 1960's followed the general national pattern, the decline of Masjumi and the ascendancy of PKI. On the occasion of the 1955 general elections. Masjumi and PKI showed almost equal strength, halving the local votes. Masjumi was a narrow first with about 2,000 votes and PKI a close second also with about 2,000 votes. PNI remained as a poor third with some 500 votes, and votes for other parties were less than 500 in total. In the 1957 local elections, however, the order of Mas jumi and PKI was reversed with a sli^t === [PDF page 230] === 206 margin again. PNI made headway mainly at the expense of smaller parties hyt remained the third. From the late 1950's on, PKI's ascendancy was remarkable in the general Jogjakarta region including Kotagede. With the banning of Masjumi in i 9 6 0. Masjumi members were purged from governmental bodies (legislative and executive bodies at the village, district, regency and residency levels) as well as from semi-governmental or public bodies such as neighborhood associations and cooperatives. Some former Masjumi members changed their affiliations to NU and survived the purge. Vacancies created by the purge were filled mostly by PKI, PNI and NU members. In Kotagede two Masjumi village chiefs (lurah) switched their party affiliation to NU, and two Masjumi-affiliated chairmen of neighborhood associations (rukun kampong) were replaced by PNI men. In the case of the silver industry cooperative, the leadership changed from that of consisting of PKI/Masjumi members to a PKI/PNI coalition. In retrospect, the Guided Democracy period is remem bered by many people as 'djaman PKI' or the PKI Period, One quite interesting development during this period is PKI's failure in the field of trade union movement. Nationally the rapid growth of PKI was closely associated with the increase of the membership of SOBSI (Cen tral Labor Organization of All Indonesia). Locally in Kotagede, too, SOBSI was the largest union in the registered membership. However, in the field of management-labor relations, SOBSI was rarely active to lead militant labor demands. This was especially so in the field of silver industry, the major private industry in Kotagede. Local informants explained this phenomenon in terms of a peculiar situation in Kotagede. In fact, both the entrepreneurial and labor sides === [PDF page 231] === 207 of silver industry were represented by two PKI members who were brothers. The elder brother, a former goldsmith and the owner-manager of the third largest silver work enterprise in the post-war Kotagede, was a returnee from the Dutch political exile in Boven Digul. He was instrumental in or ganizing the Production Cooperative of Silverware Enterprises of Jogja karta (KP3J, or Kooperasi Perusahaan Produksi Perak Jogjakarta) in the early 1 9 5 0 's, and since then continuously occupied the chairmanship of the Coop erative until 1 9 6 5. He also played the role of sesepuh ('elderman', 'old advisor') for the entire Communist movement in post-war Kotagede. His younger brother, a silversmith less politically sohpisticated than his older brother but kept under his close guidance, started the unionization of silver industry workers at the same time and established a SOBSI affili ate occupying its General Secretary position himself. In the mid-1950's, there were some silver entrepreneurs who were struck by SOBSI workers de manding the application of the uniform wage scale and working conditions agreed upon by the SOBSI and KP3J representatives. However, other than this, management-labor disputes rarely flared up in the silver industry. Before anything serious developed, the two brothers personally mediated the disputants. As a result, SOBSI attracted little enthusiasm of workers. A local informant said, "SOBSI was just the matter of membership card." The membership card was a necessity because in theory a worker must pro duce a union membership card when obtaining an employment with an enter prise affiliated with KP3J. Otherwise SOBSI was used only as a tool of the mobilization of masses for political rallies and paradings. The insignifi cance of SOBSI in the popular eyes was furthered by the incident in the early 1960's when the General Secretary was found to have made private === [PDF page 232] === 208 the union funds hut was allowed to retain his position upon 'self-criticism' SOBSI became all the more ineffective thereafter. The increase of PKI influence in Kotagede was achieved rather in the fields of other mass organizations, youth (Pemuda Rakjat, or People's Youth), women (GEHWANI, or Indonesian Women's Movement), and cultural activities (LEKRA, or League of People's Culture). Especially active was the last organization, using such traditional cultural media as wajang kulit (puppet shadow play) and ketoprak (folk drama) for PKI propaganda purposes. The intensity of the LEKRA activities during the period of KCI dominance was such that the period is remembered by many locals as 'Djaman Ketoprak' or 'Ketoprak Period'. The incapacitation of Muslim forces in the political scene by the banning of the Masjumi Party, however, did not entail the weakening of the reformist religious movements. As we shall see later in this chapter, Muhammadij ah started a new membership drive in the first years of the 1 9 6 0 's, and as a result its membership made a remarkable increase nation ally as well as locally. The reconsolidation process of Muhammadi jah con tinued under the general deterioration of economy with sky-rocketing in flation, blackmarketing and the widespread corruption of civil servants. Arbitrary repressions on Muslim leaders did not deter the process of Mu hammadi jah growth, and incidents of clashes between Muhammadijah activists, especially muballi^ (religious propagandists) and PKI members, increased toward 1965* The air was getting 'hot' (panas), and many Muhammadijah activists anticipated an impending showdown with PKI at the evening of the abortive coup of October 1, I9 6 5. === [PDF page 233] === 209 THE POST-WAR ECONOMIC IMPOVERISHMENT Before continuing the subsequent political development, I want to de scribe in this section several economic and social changes in post-war Kotagede and discuss their implications for the Muhammadij ah movement. The most important change seems to be a general impoverishment of Kotagede economy and the decline of the material well-being of the townspeople. The enormous wealth witnessed by van Bevervoorde around the turn of the century is today only discernable in decaying old palatial houses. In place of van Mook's thriving entrepreneurial class of the mid-twenties, we find numerous small traders and daily workers striving hard just to maintain a livelihood. Today's Kotagede is no longer a prosperous town but an economically depressed one. Accordingly the economic environment in which the Muhammadijah movement is operating has vastly changed. The following statistics will illustrate various aspects of this general economic impoverishment. Table IV-1 is intended to compare the change in the occupational composition between 1922 and 1971* The 1922 figures are an abbreviated version of van Mook's survey (cf. Chapter II above). The 1971 data are based on the government census and supplemented by my own survey. For the purpose of securing the equivalent units of comparison, only three kalurahan out of the four in van Mook's data are selected. These three kalurahan became three rukun kampong after Indepen dence, but the boundaries of the former were retained intact and are the same as the letter's. A few remarks are necessary before reading the data. House-compound holders of 1922 and household heads of 1971 are not exactly equivalent. The house-compound holder was essentially a jural status with prescribed === [PDF page 234] === 210 Table IV-1. Comparison of Occupational Composition of House-Compound Holders in 1922 and Household Heads in 1971^ Occupation_______________ 1922 1971____ B-A [Unreadable] Professionals 76 7.6 170 10.3 +94 Entrepreneurs 207 2 0.7 135 8.2 -7 2 Workers, small traders and craftsmen 6 12 6 1.4 1,139 6 9.3 +527 Others 3 0.3 201 12.2 +198 Total 99 8 100.0 1,645 100.0 +647 ^In the three kalurahan/rukun kampong of Prenggan, Sajagan (Alun-Alun) and Basen. Sources: A van Mook 1926a:363; also in 1958:289. B 1 9 7 1 Census plus supplementary survey of my own. rights and obligations vis-à-vis the local community and the kraton admin istration. A house-compound holder was by definition a household head, but there were many household heads who did not have the status of house-compound holder. No figures were available as to the size of these less privileged household heads in 1922, but my estimate is two to three hundred. Since no survey data are available about them, especially about their occupations, I must be content with the figures for the house-compound holders. Another problem is that van Mook's classification of occupations is not exactly the same as mine and there are differences in detail between the two. As far as the gross categorization into four large categories is concerned, I trust that discrepancies have been kept to a minimum. === [PDF page 235] === 211 Another note to be made about the two statistical data is that the 1922 figures seem to be too old for the pre-war period. Unfortunately, I was not able to find the Kotagede details of the 1930 Census, which is the latest available as a pre-war census. Admittedly, during the 1920’s and 1 9 3 0 *s, many economic changes took place as some of the following qualita tive data suggest. However, one thing I am quite sure is the fact that the Kotagede economy did not deteriorate but rather improved during the 1920's and 1 9 3 0 's. This is even true despite the negative effect of the Great Depression in the 1930's. One reason is that the impact of the world-wide economic crisis was less directly felt in the 'native sector' than in the 'western sector' of the colonial Indonesian economy. Another is the Dutch policy of the fostering of local industries as a remedy for the depression which contributed to a small-scale boom in Kotagede in the latter half of the 1 9 3 0 's. The 1922 data then represent an earlier 'normally good period' of the pre-war Kotagede economy, but certainly not the best years. From the data in Table IV-1 we can make several important observations. First of all, the absolute decrease in the number of entrepreneurs is most remarkable. This is all the more significant in view of the fact that the total population of the town has increased at least 50%, from a little less than 10,000 to approximately 15,000 over the same period. Also the propor tion of entrepreneurs in the entire population has decreased from 20.7% to 8.2%. In contrast, the increase in the number of individuals in the third and fourth categories is great. As mentioned above, in 1922 there must have been a few hundred additional household heads whose occupations were most likely in the third category. Even if this fact is taken into considera tion, the number of individuals in the third category increased considerably === [PDF page 236] === 212 in the fifty years. As to the fourth category, there were only three in dividuals in van Mook's original data, and they were farmers. In the fourth category for 1 9 7 1, there are no farmers: the hulk (l50 people) of the fourth category is made up of the unemployed and non-employed (the point of difference being the presence or absence of the ability and will to work). A minority in the 1971 fourth category is students, who were totally absent in 1922. I have assumed that there were no house-compound holders who did not have a fixed job in 1922. If my assumption is correct, the existence of 150 jobless people in 1 9 7 1 is itself a quite 'new* phenomenon. The more-than-doubled number of individuals in the first category is largely made up of government officials (civil and military), teachers and other white collar workers. This fact itself is quite consonant with the general expansion of 'modern' institutions. What should be kept in mind is, as we shall see later, that in terms of actual standards of living, the pegawai nowadays is much more impoverished than the 1 9 2 2 's prijaji. As a general conclusion, it can be safely stated that the number of rich entrepreneurs has decreased significantly from the Kotagede economic scene and small traders, daily workers and the jobless have vastly in creased. The bulk of the population has been pushed downward on the eco nomic scale. Information obtained through interviews and other fragmentary official and semi-official data confirm the above observations and help to recon struct in broad terms what has happened to the Kotagede economy through the War, Occupation, Revolution and Independence. As mentioned earlier, the first two decades of this century were the d.1aman batik or 'batik period' (see Chapter II above), van Bevervoode saw in === [PDF page 237] === 213 Kotagede 13 large batik traders, 2k linen traders, 6 wax and dye goods traders and 38 batik workshops in operation in 1902. van Mook witnessed, in 1 9 2 2, 1 9 8 house-compound holders engaged in batikking and 119 batik and linen traders. But the djaman batik was already passing away, de Kat Angelino, who surveyed the batik industry in Java and Madura in the late twenties, found only l4 batik workshops operating in Kotagede in 1927 (de Kat Angelino 1930:11, 177). In 1971 there are only half a dozen batik workshops left in the town. Starting in the 1920's the silverware industry took the lead instead. The depression did not hit the industry hard and from the 1920’s to the outbreak of the War in Europe was the djaman perak, 'silver period'. At the peak period, 1935-1938, there were about 70 silverware workshops and 1,400 people were employed in the industry (Republik Indonesia XII;721). The Pacific War deprived the industry of the market as well as of the supply of raw materials forcing it to a complete halt during the Japanese occupation. After the War the silverware industry started to operate again, but until 1 9 5 0 it was hampered by the scarcity of material and unstable market conditions. Between 1950 and I960 the industry experienced some re covery. And now that it was organized into a production cooperative, the industry gained new vigor. But during the Guided Economy period of I96 O- 1 9 6 5, the cooperative was placed under government control, and the supply of material and even the sale of products were greatly determined by the whim of government agencies and the cooperative leadership which was domi nated by PKI. Since 1966 government control of the cooperative has gone, and the silverware enterprises have been completely left to 'free' compe tition among themselves. The cooperative is now almost defunct, and with === [PDF page 238] === 214 the increasing influx of foreign tourists, the larger (actually only two) enterprises are getting larger while the rest are losing their ability to compete as independent enterprises. These changes are reflected to some extent in the following table of data. Table IV-2. Silverware Industry in Kotagede (1935-1968) Aver. # of Aver, it of Aver. annual Years enterprises employers production 1935-1938 70 1,400 25,000 kg. 1945 50 250 4,500 kg. 1946 70 350 6,500 kg. 1947 80 4oo 14,500 kg. 1948 90 500 16,000 kg. 1949 30 150 2,700 kg. 1950 50 300 4,500 kg. 1951 100 1,000 18,000 kg. 1952 80 700 12,000 kg. 1955 164% 1956 165 — — mmmm 1957 194 W W W 1958 199 — — mm ^ 1959 197 i960 202 W W W 1961 202 1962 179 mtm 1963 178 w w 1964 161 1965 147 1966 147 ^mmmm 1967 123 m 1968 137 b “ 1971 117 4ooc 6,OOQC ^Number of enterprises in 1955-1971 is the cooperative members. The source says that in these years only 10% of the enterprises are in operation. Estimates by informants. Sources: 1935-1952 Republik Indonesia XII;721. 1 9 5 5 -1 9 7 1 Tedjo 1 9 7 0:Appendix II, and reports of the Production Cooperative of Silverware Enter prises of Jogjakarta. === [PDF page 239] === 215 With the silverware industry in a slump, where are the numerous daywage workers finding employment now? No single replacement is found, hut the trades now in prevalence are konfeksi (garments, simple ready-made clothing) and secondarily imitasi (accessories of gold imitation). In both trades only a minimum of skill and experience are required. Among buruh (daily workers), buruh djahit or sewers are the greatest in number. The impoverishment of the Kotagede economy is also indicated by a marked decrease in real income and a consequent lowering of the standard of living. According to local informants the highest daily wage for skilled tukang perak (silversmith) during the 1 9 2 0 *s and 1 9 3 0 's was 1.5 0 gulders while a buruh (unskilled worker) was paid at least 0.3 5 gulders a day (cf. Tedjo 1970:30). A common method employed by Kotagedeans (as well as Indonesians elsewhere) for comparison of real income at different points in time in recent history is to convert a money value into how much rice, the staple, is purchasable with it. In the corresponding pre-war period, rice was bought at 0.05 gulders per kilogram. So the highest paid silver smith's daily earnings was the equivalent of 30 kilgrams of rice, and an unskilled worker's, 7 kilograms. Again to measure the standard of living a common local practice is to assess if one is eating enough rice, and in this measurement one half kilogram of rice for an adult (and 1/3 to 1/4 kilograms for a child) is held to be a minimal necessity. The average number of members in a household in Java has been and is about 4.5. So an average household needs at least two kilograms of rice everyday to feel it is eating properly. The greater the positive difference between income and the amount of money spent for purchasing rice, the more well-off a house hold is considered to be. This index may seem rudimentary but nonetheless === [PDF page 240] === 216 it is very practical and essential in providing a concrete measurement of living standards for ordinary Javanese. When this system of measurement is applied to the above mentioned wages, we car visualize the fact that a skilled silversmith in the pre-war time never felt hungry and was in fact able to enjoy a fairly comfortable life. Silversmith work was an ideal career for Kotagedean boys, and girls were eager to marry such men (cf. Tedji 1970:31). It was also easy for a skilled silversmith to save from his earnings and accumulate capital to start his own workshop with hired labor (ibid.). Even an unskilled worker's daily earning, which was equi valent to 7 kilograms of rice, was more than enough to feed him and his family. A former Muhammadijah high school teacher, whose salary scale was the same as the government school teachers', recalls that his starting monthly salary in 1929 was 12.50 gulders or the rice equivalent of 8 kilo grams a day. He remembers that "with that salary life was easy enough for me. I ate enough everyday, wore a pair of trousers and a pair of shoes, and still had a surplus. I was even able to go to see movies every night if I wanted to!" In I 97 O-I9 7 2, the price of rice was fairly stable at 32 to 35 rupiahs per kilogram. For a buruh today whose cash income is 50 to 100 rupiahs, his real income is only the rice equivalent of 1.5 to 3 kilograms. This means that a buruh's real income today has been pushed down to less than half of the pre-war level. Even the highest-paid silversmith now earns only 400 rupiahs a day, or the rice equivalent of 11 to 13 kilograms. The majority of silversmiths' wages now range from 150 to 200 rupiahs a day, which is the rice equivalent of 5 to 6 kilograms. Here again the real income of silversmiths has been reduced to 1/3 or 1/4 of the pre-war level, === [PDF page 241] === 217 A high school teacher at present is paid from 2,000 to 5,000 rupiahs a month, which is approximately equivalent to 2 to 5 kilograms of rice a day. Of course, he must wear a pair of trousers (about 500 rupiahs) and a pair of shoes (about 700 rupiahs), too. His salary is barely enough to feed him and his family. Thus we can see that many individuals who have been included in the occupational category of ’professionals' in the above tables are barely making ends meet. There is also a local way of classifying the entire population into three categories in terms of relative standards of living. The highest, well-to-do, are 'wealthy' (sugih, ka.ja in Indonesian) or 'able' (saged). The second, middle category, is 'reasonable'(lumajan) or 'enough' (tjekap, t.iukup in Indonesian). The third, lowest, 'not enough' (kirang tjekap, kurang tjukup in Indonesian) or simply 'poor' (miskin). When this classi fication is applied to the occupational categories we have employed above, many 'professionals' are found not in the category of the wealthy but among those who have 'enough'. Even a considerable number of 'entrepreneurs' are regarded as merely having 'enough'. And the overwhelming majority in the third occupational category are individuals whose means are 'not enough'. An application of this 'wealthy'-'enough'-'not enough' categorization on a grand scale is observable on the occasion of the collection of the zakat fitrah and korban, and their distribution on the two Muslim holy days, Hari Raya Idul Fitri and Hari Raya Korban. The 'able' and 'wealthy' Muslims must make donations of rice for zakat fitrah and of sacrificial animals (goats and water buffalo) for korban. The 'poor' and 'needy' must receive these donations. According to the records of this practice for the past three years (1 9 7 0 -1 9 7 2 ), out of approximately 3,3 0 0 families in all of Kotagede, about two to three hundred families regard themselves === [PDF page 242] === 218 as belonging to the 'able' and 'wealthy' and feel obliged to make contri butions. Of course, the factor of the degree of commitment to these Muslim obligations enters in. This is especially so on the occasion of korban which has more voluntary nature than zakat fitrah. The number of families which donate korban has always been smaller than that of zakat fitrahdonating families. At any rate, from the above we can draw a conclusion that about two to three hundred families regard themselves 'wealthy' and also are regarded so by others. As to the 'poor' and 'needy', the criterion for the categorization is very concrete. They are those who do not eat regularly or enough. Neighbors can tell who are so and the list of the names is forwarded to the distribution committees. Over the same period, the total of those families who received distribution of rice and meat on the two Hari Raya numbered more than 2,000. Finally, those who do not contribute or receive distributions belong to the middle 'enough' group, and they number less than 1,0 0 0 families. These figures seem to be a fairly accurate reflection of how Kotage deans feel themselves to stand in the three-category classification of standards of living. In other words, two thirds of all Kotagedeans are not even eating enough, not to mention clothing and housing. One third are eating well but living modestly. It should be noted from the foregoing section that even individuals in this 'enough' category are not much better off as far as matters other than food are concerned. Finally only less than 1 0 % of the entire population are free from want of food, clothing and shelter. Even in this last group only a few scores of families are really 'wealthy' in every aspect. Those privileged few are usually marked by the possession of automobiles, which totaled 17 in number in 1 9 7 1. === [PDF page 243] === 219 Besides the general stagnation or even retrogression of the national economy of post-colonial Indonesia, which were ultimately responsible for the impoverished state of the Kotagede economy, there were several factors of more direct local relevance. First of all, the decline in the infra structure of local economy over the past thirty years of War, Revolution and economic instability; War and Revolution brought direct destruction in transport and communication systems, electricity, irrigation and drainage systems, public buildings and the like. Not many reconstructions were made, and the maintenance was not catching up with the speed of wear and tear. The narrow gauge railway system had once connected almost every village with irrigated rice fields in the vicinity of Kotagede with the national railway system through the Jogjakarta station, but the system was completely destroyed through the years of War and Revolution. Roads and bridges were also destroyed or left unattended. The bridge across the Gadja Wong River on the main northwest road between Kotagede and Jogja karta, renovated in steel and concrete in 1 9 1 2, did not receive any sub stantial repairs in the past thirty years. The steel girders are still firm, but the pavement is falling here and there, and the bridge becomes often impassable for motor vehicles or horse/ox carts. Roads are rela tively well-kept with repeated new pavings. However, because of the bad maintenance of irrigation and draining systems, the roads themselves become the drainage system in the rainy season and thus the transportation is very much hampered. Even the short-distance transport between Jogjakarta and Kotagede becomes unreliable during rainy months. The supply of electricity was limited to only about 15% of the total number of buildings in the pre-war time. Now the total number remains the same, but the supply has become more === [PDF page 244] === 220 irregular and less useful. Blackouts occur quite often without warnings. Voltage is often far below the official 100 volts. Even when the supply is available, the average capacity of one meter is less than 100 watts. The electricity is just for lighting, and it is unthinkable to use elec tricity for power at present. This poor electric supply is due to the fact that the Jogjakarta power station is running only at three quarters of the pre-war capacity despite the many leakages through wornout lines and the widespread practice of stealing electricity from supply lines. There has been only one telephone privately owned by an Grang Kalang family since the pre-war time. For many years after the War, even the military and police had to 'borrow* it (in fact, the local military garrison head quarters was housed in a corner of this building). In 1971, with the 'modernization' drive around the general election period, the Kotagede Kemantren (Ward) office got a new telephone. Besides the mail service, becoming more reliable but still slow, the surest way of communication is still to send messengers or simply to visit in person. This generally very poor state of the local economic infrastructure has been hampering entrepreneurial activities greatly. Secondly, the post-war deterioration of Kotagede economy was caused by the exodus of a significant number of active entrepreneurs from the town. With their departure many jobs were lost to the local work force. The most conspicuous was the almost complete desertion of the Grang Kalang (cf. Chapter II) from Tegal Gendu and from elsewhere in Kotagede. During the period of physical clashes with the Dutch forces in the Revolution, most of the Grang Kalang took refuge in larger cities, many of them under Dutch occupation, in contrast to the general trend of finding safer places === [PDF page 245] === 221 in small towns and in the countryside. Many Orang Kalang came to he sus pected of committing betrayal to the Republic. Many Kotagedeans believed that Orang Kalang were making exorbitant profits from the confused situa tion. As a result, when there occurred a brief period of political and military power vacuum at the end of the Dutch 'second police action* in December 19^9, popular resentment and hatred against the Orang Kalang ex ploded in a few days of devastating looting and ransacking of their palace like houses in Tegal Gendu. Most of the Kalang houses were stripped of the last item of value and usable things except for walls and roofs. A few houses were even burned down (according to an Orang Kalang informant, however, the houses were burned by the Dutch troops because the Kalang group fought for the Republic). Row only the still gorgeous-looking but decaying houses and several huge iron safes left standing there can tell of the enormous prosperity enjoyed by the group in pre-war Kotagede, The relationships between Kotagede locals and the Orang Kalang now having spread and settled in such larger cities as Jakarta, Bandung, Semarang and Sura baja were drastically weakened, if not severed completely. However, their decaying houses in Tegal Gendu and elsewhere in Kotagede are still mostly in their possession. Now those houses are 'lived' in mostly by migrants from the rural hinterland who are allowed to stay there rent-free for the job of watching the houses. Some of the spacious houses were lent or do nated for public use such as a government house for the aged, a Muhammadijah primary.school, and local government offices. Now Tegal Gendu is one of the worst poverty-stricken areas in Kotagede. In Kotagede proper several families from the top layer of the wealthy entrepreneurial group moved out from the town mainly to the city of Jog- === [PDF page 246] === 222 Jakarta. For example, the largest and the most representative batik retail shop located in the prime spot in the central commercial district of the city of Jogjakarta is owned and operated by a former Kotagede family (one of Hadji Mukmin's descendants: cf. Chapter III) who moved there in the 1950's. Several other batik retail shops in the same district are also originally from Kotagede. A few large-scale silver workshops have also moved from Kotagede to the city. Many of these former Kotagede entrepre neurs are, however, still maintaining active business and family ties with their business partners or clients and kinsmen in Kotagede, and thus are benefiting somehow the Kotagede economy. Many pre-war entrepreneurial families were simply pushed out of busi ness through the turmoils of War and Revolution. This is clearly observed with the descendants of the pre-war 'merchant kings'. Among the descen dants of Hadji Mukmin, there are many entrepreneurs, but there is no one who has been able to compare to the level of prosperity achieved by the hadji. Bahuwinangun's descendants are worse. His private pawn shop was closed by the government after Independence. His descendants still retain many houses and shops to let, but they are only living off the ancestor's wealth. Atmosudigdo's house and factory complex with a spacious under ground construction is now left to ruin, for the maintenance and repair costs are beyond the capability of his descendants. An interesting phe nomenon common to the descendants of these 'merchant kings' is that quite a large portion of their family wealth had been spent for the education of children who became professionals rather than entrepreneurs. Among the second generation offspring of Hadji Mukmin, almost one half have become professionals with academic degrees. A similar process of professional === [PDF page 247] === 223 ization can be observed with the descendants of Atmosudigdo and Bahuwinangun. One consequence of this process is that these professionals are employed or self-employed in larger cities, and make little contribution to the productive activities of Kotagede. Despite many sloganizings, the economic policies of successive govern ments in the entire post-colonial period were mostly not encouraging to the recovery of entrepreneurial activities in Kotagede. Because of tremendous inflation, the freezing of bank accounts, currency devaluation and corrup tion, the bank and credit system was discredited in the public's eyes. The entrepreneurial cooperatives were often only a disguise for blackmarketing, for the material supplied through cooperatives was better sold on the blackmarket than worked on. Arbitrary policy changes ruined many entrepreneurs overnight. The history of the post-colonial Kotagede economy is full of stories of sudden ups and downs of individual entrepreneurs, and apparently there were more downs than ups. Ups were mostly attributed to speculations or windfall gains. For example, several nouveau riches allegedly acquired their sudden gain in wealth from the looting of the Orang Kalang treasures. But more often heard are failure stories. A batik workshop owner bank rupted and became a taxi driver. A kunlngan (brasswork) entrepreneur failed the business and now is peddling batik. A once-prosperous garment factory owner/manager was reduced to tailoring all by himself because of the debts incurred in business. All in all, the entrepreneurial group in post-war Kotagede has been weakened considerably, diminished in size and scale of operation, and has become less innovation and enterprising compared to its pre-war counterpart. With the discouraged entrepreneurs, the post-war Kotagede economy has never had a change to 'take off. === [PDF page 248] === 22k Now I want to mention briefly changes which occurred in the non economic fields of post-war Kotagede. The most important change seems to be that of the status system directly caused by the political and admin istrative changes in the Jogjakarta Sultanate. Shortly after the Declara tion of Independence, the entire Jogjakarta Sultanate with the Pakualaman principality became an integral part of the new Republic (cf. Selosoemardjan 1 9 6 2: especially Chapters IV and V). The former ’royal servants' (abdi dalem) were now changed into the 'civil servants' (pegawai negri) of the Republic and received salaries from the Republican government except for a small number of the abdi dalem who remained so in the service of the Sultan's palace and several other royal institutions including the royal cemetery complexes in Imogiri and Kotagede. Now the new civil servants, although many of them were still from traditional prijaji (aristocrats) families, represented not so much the Sultan, who remained in the position of the Head of the Special Region of Jogjakarta, but rather the secular Republican government. As a result the traditional awe and prestige having surrounded the pre-war prijaji corps were largely missing from the new civil servants. The civil servants became less autonomous and more dependent on the power holder in government. Their wealth also was eroded by inflation, their salaries having lagged far behind the rise of prices. Prior to the administrative reform of 1920, the abdi dalem djurukuntji ('royal servant keykeepers') occupied the top layer of the Kotagede society in terms of power and prestige (cf. Chapter II above). They func tioned to oversee the upkeep of the royal cemetery complex and governed the territory and the people of Kotagede. There were four positions of lurah (chief) djurukuntji, which had been hereditarily occupied by four === [PDF page 249] === 225 families. The 1920 reform separated the religious and territorial aspects of the functions of the djurukuntji, and the latter, the function of terri torial administration, was now taken over by newly formed kalurahan (village) officials. Despite the loss of the territorial power, however, the pre-war djurukuntji had maintained prestige and spiritual authority to a large extend on the basis of their function of upkeep of the royal cemetery. By the post-war reform, however, both the territorial officials (kalurahan officials) and the functional officials (djurukuntji) suffered a heavy loss of their power and prestige. First of all, the urban kalurahan were incorporated into the city of Jogjakarta, and the kalurahan system it self was changed into that of rukun kampong (nei^borhood association). The rukun kampong officials received no salaries or office lands. They were neither prijaji nor pegawai in terms of their source of power, but merely elected community leaders. Their status was not comparable to either. Above the'nei^borhood associations, the office of kemantren ('ward') was placed to link them with the city government. The kemantren office was manned by the officials of the old prijaji turned new civil servants, but their power was much restricted and more dependent on the city government and the cooperation of the nei^borhood association leadership. The decline of the prestige of both the djurukuntji and the kalurahan/ neighborhood association leadership in the post-war times was such that no one, except one person, among the descendants of the four pre-war djuru kuntji families ever occupied either of the positions. When I first en tered Kotagede I was impressed by the inconspicuousness of the prijaji group in the local social scene, which made a clear contrast to the city in which old prijaji/new pegawai still formed a distinct upper class. === [PDF page 250] === 226 In the pre-war Kotagede society, the entrepreneurial group stood out side the status system deriving from the Sultan. They were generally richer than the local prijaji and enjoyed certain social prestige, hut they scrupulously avoided involvement in government business. Now in post-war Kotagede the entire entrepreneurial group was pushed down on the socio economic scale. Yet many entrepreneurs are still wealthier than most of the pegawai negri. Relative positions in prestige between the two groups are difficult to generalize. They hold ambivalent attitudes mutually; the entrepreneurs fear, envy and despise the pegawai negri, and vice versa. Craftsmen, skilled workers, unskilled workers and peddlers increased absolutely in number and relatively in proportion. Their positions in the status system were often flattered by political leaders as the real master of society. They were also able to assert their numerical strength in votes and voices through various mass organizations during the 1 9 5 0 's and the Guided Democracy period. But in reality their lot in society was not improved at all and now with the removal of those mass organizations, they have completely lost their collective bargaining powers vis-à-vis other segments of the local society. They were and still are the 'little people' (wong tjilik) in contrast to the 'big men' (penggede). In sum I can state that Kotagede of the 1920's and 1930*s was un doubtedly a lively, prosperous town of indigenous sudagar (merchants), tukang (craftsmen) and djuragan (entrepreneurs). But Kotagede of the 1950*s and 1 9 6 0 's has become an impoverished town of numerous buruh (daily labor ers) and bakul (peddlers). The change in status system blurred the boun daries between traditional status groups, and social mobility was enhanced by education. The economic stagnation to some extent leveled off the dif === [PDF page 251] === 227 ferences between various groups in terms of material well-being, but the more serious was the process of general economic impoverishment as a result of which the vast majority of the local population must now strive to sur vive day to day (of. Appendix I). WHO ARE MUHAMMADIJAH MEMBERS? In the course of ny fieldwork I became increasingly aware of the in adequacy of the general sociological characterization of the Muhammadijah membership so far presented by many foreign observers, who assumed the membership to be primarily drawn from the urban entrepreneurial class (of. Wertheim 1959:Chapter VIII; Geertz 1956). The inadequacy was partly empirical and partly theoretical. Empirically, the relationship of con tinuous mutual affinity between the urban bourgeois elements and the re formist Islam movement must be questioned in view of the considerable socio-economic changes which occurred from the end of the Dutch rule up to the present day. The relationship can no longer be assumed but must be subjected to a new empirical study. Theoretically, it has become increas ingly clear in the literature of the anthropology of religion that the relationship between a religious system, especially that of universalistic religions, and social structure in which the former is operating, is far more complicated than that of symbolic reflection of the latter in the former and/or the consolidation and validation of the latter by the former (cf. Geertz 1966; Turner 197^). Indonesian Islam must be looked at criti cally again in a new perspective. In this section, first, I want to present some firsthand data on the Muhammadijah membership I acquired in the field. I was very fortunate to have been given access to the most reliable source of information as to === [PDF page 252] === 228 the present-day membership of Kotagede Muhammadijah. In fact, I was allowed by the Muhammadijah branch leadership to read and copy its offi cial membership registration book, Buku Daftar Anggota Muhammadijah Tjabang Kotagede Jogjakarta. The book includes such items as name, address, birth date or age, date of registration, date of withdrawal or death, level of rukun Islam achievement, and membership fee for each member. In addition to the in formation covered by these items, I also acquired from the Muhammadijah branch leaders additional information on the occupation and education of each member. Although it is undoubtedly the best source of information on the Muhammadijah membership in Kotagede, for the sake of completeness I would need to compile similar information about the membership of all the 'sister' and 'child' organizations of what they call 'Keluarga Besar Muhammadijah* (The Grand Family of Muhammadijah); Aisjijah (women), Nasjaitul Aisjijah (young women), Pemuda Muhammadijah (young men), and Ikatan Peladjar Muhammadijah (high school students). Therefore, it should be kept in mind that in the following information on the Muhammadijah mem bership there is a marked bias in sex and age. What is actually repre sented below is mostly adult male members, and young men, adult women and young women are to a considerable degree underrepresented, or neglected. I present below a series of tables which contain statistical data on the membership of Muhammadijah, geographic distribution, age distribution, education, years of affiliation, occupational composition, etc. I shall also try to compare these against corresponding data about the entire population of Kotagede or segments thereof. === [PDF page 253] === 229 GEOGRAPHIC DISTRIBUTION As of February 1972, the Muhammadijah membership book lists a total of 630 members in Kotagede kota (urban Kotagede). Kotagede desa (rural Kotagede) has a total membership of 350. In July 1971 when the general election was held, the total number of adults in Kotagede kota was about 5,6 0 0. To this total of 6 30 Muhammadijah members in Kotagede kota must be added, as mentioned above, at least another several hundred affiliated members. The total number of individuals who belong to Keluarga Besar Muhammadijah in Kotagede kota must exceed 1,000. Taking the number of 630 as the most conservative representation, we can say that at least 1 1.2 # of the entire Kotagede kota adults are Muhammadijah members. For Kotagede desa the percentage drops to 2.3#. The contrast between urban and rural Kotagede in terms of the Muhammadijah membership is quite clear. Muham madijah is certainly a predominantly urban religious organization. Within urban Kotagede, however, Muhammadijah members are not distri buted evenly throughout the area. Table IV-3 shows this unevenness. The strongest Muhammadijah R.K. is Alun-Alun and the weakest Basen. With the exception of Kampong Djojopranan which will be mentioned below, the rank order of the relative strength of Muhammadijah membership in these terri- The total number of adults is calculated on the basis of the numbers of registered voters (male 18 years old and above, female 16 years and above, plus either of them already married) plus those who are deprived of poli tical rights because of their alleged involvement in the G-30-S affair. The exact number of latter category of people was impossible to obtain but was estimated at about 6 OO by various sources. The total adult population of Kotagede desa was estimated on the basis of the 1 9 6 8 regional census figures for the rural R.K.'s in the Kemantren Kotagede territory plus the figures of 1971 monthly reports for the terri tory of Ketjamatan Kotagede Surakarta. === [PDF page 254] === 230 torial units roughly correlates with such social geographic aspects as centrality-peripherality, population density and land use pattern. Table IV-3. Distribution of Muhammadi.1ah Members in Kotagede Kota Rukun Kampong/ Muhammadijah Total Kalurahan members adults A/B Alun-Alun 231 1,1 9 1 1 9.4 # Djagalan 185 1,300®- 14.2# Prenggan 105 1.5 6 5 6.7 # Basen 57, 923 6.2 # Purbajan 30 415 7.2 # Djojopranan 22 2 5 0 ®- 8.8 # Total 630 5,644 1 1.2 # ^These figures are estimates from the 1971 monthly reports. Sources: A Muhammadijah Membership Registration Book. B 1968 Regional Census (Rekap Susunan Kelamin Dengan Umur Dalam). The closer a territorial unit is to the geographic center of the town — the market— the stronger the Muhammadijah membership is. The denser the population is, the more likely one is to find Muhammadijah members. The more open spaces of pekarangan (yards with fruit trees) are, the less Mu hammadijah is represented. Translated into economic terms, it can be generalized that the more thoroughly the life in a kampong is dependent upon cash income through trading, handicraft and wage labor, the more likely it is to have more Muhammadijah members. Politically, prior to the 1965 abortive coup, PKI was the strongest in R.K. Basen and the weakest in === [PDF page 255] === 231 R.K. Alim-Alun. The exact reversal of the rank order of the Muhammadijah relative strength was that of PKI. The result of the 1971 general elec tions showed that the former PKI strongholds switched to that of GOLKAR, the government party. Djojopranan is an old, thoroughly 'urban' kampong and strongly Islamic. But there NU's influence is reducing Muhammadijah's strength. The result would clearly show that the closer a kampong is to the market and the main streets the stronger the membership is. AGE DISTRIBUTION Information on Muhammadijah members' ages is incomplete. There is age in formation on less than half of the total of 630 individuals. The classifica tion by twenty years of age as of 1971 has resulted as follows. Table IV-4. Age Distribution of Muhammadijah Members Age 20-39 117 40.5# 40-59 137 47.4# 60 + 32 11.1# Total 289 100.0# Source: Muhammadijah Membership Registration Book It is clear that Muhammadijah is an organization of orang tua (parental generation). Members are mostly middle to old-aged, married and stable residents in Kotagede. === [PDF page 256] === 232 As to sex distribution, the data at hand show that 462 are males and 1 6 8 are females. But as mentioned above, this excludes the separate Aisjijah membership. My estimate is that there are at least another 200 females in this group. It should be noted that when a public meeting of Muhammadijah is held, the female participants always outnumber the males by a ratio of approximately three to two. The male vs. female ratio of the entire Kotagede population is about 100:106, and Kotagede kota has a higher female ratio than Kotagede desa. EDUCATION The terminal education of Muhammadijah members and the entire Kotagede population have been compared as follows: Table IV-5. Muhammadi jah Kotagede®- [Unreadable] No school 51 1 0.7 3,0 8 1 38.7 Elementary^ 28k 5 9.4 3,7 2 2 46.7 Secondary 106 22.2 1,0 9 5 1 3.7 Tertiary 37 T.T 75 0.9 Total 478 100.0 7,973 100.0 ^Ten R.K. in the entire Kemantren Kotagede, 10 years old and over. Includes religious education (pesantren) only. Sources: A Muhammadijah Membership Registration Book. B 1 9 6 8 Regional Census (Rekap Susuman Kelamin Dengan Pendidikan Dalam Kemantren Kotagede). === [PDF page 257] === 233 In both categories, dropouts are included. Even so, the percentage of 3 8.7 # or two out of five among the 10 years old and over have never been to school is the reality of public education in Kotagede. In this regard, Muhammadij ah’s achievement is astonishing. Almost 90# of the members have at least an elementary education. In fact, 46 of the 51 non-schooled Muhammadijah members are women, and all men are educated except five, who make up only 1# of the male membership. Muhammadijah scores high in secondary and tertiary education, too. Especially remarkable is the fact that it supplies almost half of the total of tertiary-educated in Kotagede. (Most of the other half are regional government officials who are not na tives of Kotagede but who reside there because of government housing.) YEAR OF MUHAMMADIJAH AFFILIATION Reliability is a bit low, but data as to the years of affiliation with Muhammadijah have been enumerated as follows: Table IV-6. Cumulative Pre-1 9 4 5 113 1 7.9 1 7.9 1946-1955 1 0.2 1 8.1 1 9 5 6 -1 9 6 5 316 5 0.2 68.3 1 9 6 6 -(1 9 7 2 ) 181 2 8.7 9 7.0 No information 19 3.0 1 0 0.0 Total 630 1 0 0.0 Source; Muhammadijah Membership Registration Book === [PDF page 258] === 234 The number in the pre-1945 category confirms my informants’ statements that there were only about two hundred members before the War. The mem bership drive after the War seemed to have begun around the year 1955. This is reasonable because in that year the first national general elec tions were held and politicization at the mass-level started. It should be noted that the increase in the years I9 5 6 -I965 actually occurred after i9 6 0, that is, after the ban of the Masjumi party. It seems that the cur tailment of the political activities of reformist Muslims did not result in weakening them socially but rather stimulated their vigor in the reli gious sphere. The relatively slow rate of increase after 1 9 6 6, that is, after the ban of PKI, should be also noted. Muhammadijah leaders stated to me that they had been extremely careful about preventing opportunistic anti-Communists from joining the organization. The data seem to confirm this point. OCCUPATIONAL COMPOSITION The occupational composition of Muhammadijah members is enumerated into four large categories of (l) professionals, (ll) entrepreneurs, (ill) workers, small traders and carftsmen, and (IV) others, and compared with the corresponding data from the entire Kotagede population (household heads). Some explanations are necessary as to various categories used in the table. First, about the category of household head. Under government regulations, each household, rumah tangga, must have one head, kepala somah, and he/she as well as the rest of his/her household members are officially registered at the R.K. or Kalurahan Office. In return, all adults receive identification cards, kartu penduduk (lit., resident card). The card is essential for traveling, getting a job, getting into school or transferring to another area. === [PDF page 259] === 2 35 Table IV-7. Occupational Composition V i 4*lUAiCUllULCtU.i^JCUl luuex Ü fciiiu nuusei 10J.a neaas in non;igeae Muhammadi jah Household®' [Unreadable] Professionals 84 1 2.5 236 9.5 3 5.6 Entrepreneurs 157 23.4 184 7.4 8 5.3 Workers, small traders, craftsmen 305 4 5.6 1,777 7 1.7 1 7.2 Others 124 1 8.5 281 11.4 44.1 Total 670 ^ 100.0 2,4 7 8 100.0 potage de Kota exclus ing Djojopranan. The total is larger than the actual individuals because of the counting of plural occupations of the same persons. Sources: A Muhammadijah Membership Registration Book. B 1 9 7 1 Census plus supplementary survey of my own. The reason I have not provided here information on the occupational composition of all adults (instead of merely household heads) is simply that I have not yet completed the data processing. But since the over whelming majority of the 630 Muhammadijah members are middle to old-aged inale adults who are most likely to be household heads of their respective households, their comparison with all the household heads seems warranted. Second, explanations are necessary for the occupational categorization which X have employed. The four categories are my own secondary classifi cations of those primary ones which are employed by Kotagedeans themselves. The core of the first category is what is called pegawai, a generic term for white collar workers of private as well as government offices. Retired === [PDF page 260] === 236 government officials on pension are also included. In addition, free pro fessionals in the Western sense, i.e., physicians, lawyers (absent in Kota gede), university teachers are, of course, included. Further, I have in cluded ordinary school teachers, djurukuntji, artists, entertainers in this category. As an income group, an enormous diversity is found here. A doctor may get a net of more than 50»000 rupiahs a month but the hono rarium of a Muhammadijah school teacher or a lesser djurukuntji may be less than 500 rupiahs a month. The second category of entrepreneurs consists of two sub-categories. One is called pengusaha (lit., entrepreneurs in Indonesian; usaha = enter prise, peng - personifier) or djuragan (lit., masters, in Javanese). The other is pedagang (lit., merchants, sudagar in Javanese). Pengusaha or djuragan have capital and hire labor to produce commodities. Pedagang are wholesalers with or without shops, large shopkeepers (retailers), and wellestablished market merchants in the central market in Jogjakarta. Most pedagang hire other labor but some may rely on family labor alone. Single itinerant traders and small shopkeepers are sometimes also called pedagang, but I have placed them with the bakul urho are included in the third cate gory. The criteria have been the reliance on other labor and/or relative wealth. The bulk of the third category is composed of three sub-categories which are respectively termed colloquially buruh (workers), bakul (small traders, peddlers) and tukang (craftsmen). Buruh is an extremely generic term which includes various kinds of semi-skilled, non-skilied, and manual laborers. They may have fixed employers or they may not. Invariably they receive daily wages even though the wages may be compounded weekly. In a === [PDF page 261] === 237 workshop such as a silverware workshop in which the specialization of the production process is fairly well developed, huruh are employed for simple work such as looking after the furnace, pounding out silver bars, prepar ing silver threads, etc. When the buruh works at home to produce a com plete commodity as does a buruh djahit (lit., sewing worker) who machinesews children's shirts, the buruh may be paid by pieces instead of a fixed daily wage. Tukang is also a very broad term covering various kinds of special ists. To be a tukang, one needs a learned skill and reputation. A tu kang' s status vis-à-vis an employer varies according to his skill, need and relative wealth. If he has enough money to live on for a while, he may contract with a pengusaha to finish a certain number of commidities at his own house on a piece-work basis. He can also elect to be hired by a pengusaha to do fixed wage labor in the pengusaha's workshop with meals. Or a tukang may be •completely independent and self-employed as are bicycle repairmen, tailors and watchmakers. Bakul again has a very extensive coverage: itinerant market venders, snack sellers on the street, flower sellers in front of the Pasarejan, firewood sellers, etc. Their capital is very limited and the quantity of their commodities is limited by what they can carry by themselves. In this third category I have included extremely small shopkeepers, for example, those selling cigarettes and sweets only, and warung (pre pared food stalls) operators. As an income group, a silverware tukang of best reputation may earn 400 rupiahs a day. But the average daily income of a tukang may be some where between 100 and 200 rupiahs. A buruh's average wage is very low. === [PDF page 262] === 238 perhaps T5 rupiahs, though it ranges from 25 to 100 rupiahs. A bakul's net income fluctuates greatly, but rarely exceeds 100 rupiahs a day and a street snack seller may get only 25 rupiahs of net profit. The fourth category, 'others', is largely composed of the unemployed, the 'not-working' and the college students. The difference between the first two is the ability and will to work. The sick, invalids and old-aged are also included in this category. With this background information let us now compare the occupational characteristics of Muhammadijah members with those of the entire adult population (household heads) in Kotagede. Table IV-7 shows that Muhammadijah members are found among (l) one out of about three household heads whose occupation is professional (KUA officials and teachers form the majority), (2) four out of five entrepre neurial household heads, (3) and only one out of six buruh, bakul, tukang, etc., in the third occupational category. It is obvious that Muj ammadi jah is still most strongly represented among entrepreneurs. However, it should be noted that in absolute numbers Muhammadijah draws its largest membership from the third category which can be said to be economically less privi leged than the first and second categories. In the leadership of Kotagede branch of Muhammadijah, the individuals belonging to the first and second ^The occupational categorization of an urban (i.e., non-agricultural) pop ulation in a small town like Kotagede is a very tedious business. The in digenous categorization is discrete, but the problem is that one shifts from one category to another very easily. The shift most often occurs within the third category. A bakul may be selling snacks today but he/she may be employed for construction work tomorrow as a buruh. A leather tu kang who used to make leather sandals may have been forced to abandon his trade because of the flood of cheap vinyl sandals, and started to work as a non-skilled buruh. I intend to work on this subject further but here I have tried to follow the indigenous categorization. It seems sufficient for the present discussion. === [PDF page 263] === 239 categories are well represented. The presiding nine-member leadership hoard consists of four professionals (two Islamic college teachers, one high school teacher and one cooperative office clerk), three entrepreneurs (one garment factory owner-manager, one goldsmith workshop owner and one Jogja market trader) and two from the third category (one itinerant market trader and one radio repairman). However, at the kampong sub-branch level, the third category has a larger proportion of leaders. One conclusion we may draw from the above is that at least in terms of the overall membership Muhammadijah's constituency comes from various segments of the population and is not confined to the entrepreneurial class. This is, as we have seen above, partly because of post-war economic changes and partly because of the popularization of the Muhammadijah organization. Muhammadijah has to a great extent lost the local commercial elite domination which character ized its pre-war membership. What are, then, the implications of this general impoverishment of the Kotagede economy for the Muhammadijah movement? As mentioned earlier in this chapter, the change in economic environment has had a profound bearing upon the constituency of Muj ammadi jah. Muj ammadi jah is no longer an elite organization of the economically better-off. It has become an organization of the economically poverty-threatened, if not povertystricken, masses. The following table will show how the proportion of entrepreneurs has changed over the period of the past twenty years. Among those 110 Muhammadijah members who joined the organization in and before 1 9 5 4, the ratio of entrepreneurs to the rest was 1:1.4, or a little more than 2 out of five Muhammadijah members were entrepreneurs. However, among 428 individuals who became Muhammadijah members in and after 1955, only one === [PDF page 264] === 240 out of four is an entrepreneur. The rate of increase for the entrepre neurial members over the same period was 2.4 times while the non entrepreneur ial members have increased at the rate of 4.9 times. This trend may be termed 'de-entrepreneur-ization* and ’popularization* of Mu hammadijah. Table IV-8. Ratio of Entrepreneurs and Non-entrepreneurs in Muhammadijah up to 1954 and after 1953 Entre- Non-entre- Years preneurs preneurs Ratio A:B C ->1954 45 65 1:1.4 D 1955^ 106 322 1:3.0 D/C times 2.4 4.9 Source: Muhammadijah Membership Registration Book Now, more than before, it is less appropriate to call Muhammadijah a movement of 'bourgeois Islam'. Wertheim, who seems to have been ultimately responsible for the coinage of this label, has, nonetheless, explicitly cautioned us at the same time against unqualified usage of these designa tions. He has warned that "religious movements are not as simple as that.., there are many signs that social radicalism may invade organizations re presenting Islamic thought" (1956:231). However, once a stereotype is created, it is difficult to erase. Furthermore, the fact that successive foreign (as well as Indonesian) students of the Muhammadijah movement have thus far confined their research to its national leadership level in which entrepreneurial elements are still dominant has exacerbated the stereotype === [PDF page 265] === 241 and made us less aware of the quiet but significant change of the consti tuency of Muhammadijah. Another aspect of the 'de-entrepreneur-ization' has been an extensive degree of the professionalization in the occupational composition of Mu hammadijah members. The absolute number as well as the relative proportion of professionals with academic degrees and expertise have increased vastly over the past thirty years. Two factors seem to have contributed to this process. First, the general elevation of the prestige of academic degree holders in the post-colonial Indonesian society. At the same time, the post-war reforms have made tertiary education more accessible to wider seg ments of the population. Professionals, with their high prestige and high standards of living, are now regarded as the goal of many aspiring young men and women. A second factor is more specific and religious. In this general situation, reformist Islam's emphasis on the continuous education of oneself and one's children as a religious obligation works congruently. Many Muhammadijah members, not only wealthy ones but also modest entrepre neurs or craftsmen, spend disproportionately large amounts of money for their children's education up to the tertiary level. By maintaining every day a thrift and modest life, a large proportion of business profits are saved up for the children's educational expenses alongside the preparation for the payment of religious taxes. The generational change from entrepreneurs to professionals is most clearly observed with the base of Bani Mukmin, 'Descendants of Hadji Mukmin'. On the basis of the genealogical record of the Bani, Silsilah Bani Mu'min, I have classified the total of 49 children and grandchildren of Hadji Mukmin into three categories of entrepreneurs, professionals and others. === [PDF page 266] === Table IV-9. Descendants of Hadji Mukmin by Occupation Generations from Entre- Profes- Hadji Mukmin preneurs sionals Others Total Children 8 — — 8 Grandchildren 19 19 3 Ui Source: Silsilah Bani Mukmin ('Genealogy of Mukmin's Descendants') plus supplementary information from informants. In case of female descendants, their husbands' occupations are enumerated except in case wives have their own. In the category of entrepreneurs, small traders and small shopkeepers have been subsumed. In the category of entrepreneurs we find the owner-manager of the largest and most repre sentative batik retail shop on the main street of Jogja city. The rest in this category are 'wealthy' and 'enough' in their own ways. In the second category of professionals we find one medical doctor, two professors— one being the current Minister of Religious Affairs and a former vice mayor of Jogja city. By far the largest in this category are Muhammadijah school teachers, and they are 'enough' rather than 'wealthy', and some are even bordering on the category of 'not enough'. The third category of 'others' in Table IV-9 includes two college students and one farmer. Thus Hadji Mukmin*s descendants show a remarkable degree of professionalization. With the death of Hadji Masjhudi in 1972, Mukmin's children's genera tion is completely gone now. This generation was the first generation of devout Muhammadijah activists. Their wealth,partly inherited from Hadji Mukmin and partly earned by his children themselves, was generously poured === [PDF page 267] === 243 into the organization and the education of their children. A grandchild of Hadji Mukmin who is still living in his house states: "Most of his property was donated (diwakafkan) for religious foundations, and this house is the only remains he has left for his descendants. This house is actually already divided by his descen dants and I own only a portion of it. I am just looking after it. Since I have no wealth now [he is a retired French teacher of Muhammadijah school] I cannot donate money and property to Muhammadijah like my grandfather Mukmin did. All I can do is to contribute to the religious cause my energy and ideas (tenaga dan pikiran)." The fact that even modest entrepreneurs and craftsmen pursue the general pattern of Muhammadijah emphasis on the education of children can be well illustrated by the life history of Pak Newton, a silversmith/ small-scale entrepreneur, as follows. Pak Newton was born in a southern kampong of Kotagede Kota in 1922. His distinctive name derived from his father's enthusiasm for Western science. (Actually this is a pseudonym. But his real name is that of another British scientist of equal stature.) His father was also a regular attendant of Kijaji Hadji Amir's religious lectures for adults. Young Newton entered the Muhammadijah primary school in Kotagede, and in 1937 when he reached the fifth grade he started to work part-time every after noon after school as an apprentice at Hadji Mudjakkir's silver workshop earning 5 sen or rice equivalent of 1 kati, 0.6 kilograms. After leaving the school, he worked full-time as a buruh perak at the same enterprise with the starting daily wage of 1 ketip (l dime) or rice equivalent of 1.5 kilograms. He continued this until 1942 acquiring skills and experiences as a tukang perak. In 1944, he volunteered to the Heiho, Auxiliary Forces, === [PDF page 268] === 244 of the Japanese Occupation Army and then joined the new Republican Army fighting many battles until 1948. In 1949 he returned to Kotagede, got married, and started a modest silver enterprise of his own with two workers. In 1953 he joined the KP3J, the Production Cooperative of Silver Enter prises of Jogjakarta. The market situation then was recovering, and the quota from the Cooperative as well as orders from Jogja retail shops were constantly coming in. The period between 1950 and 1955 was a period of gradual expansion for Pak Newton's enterprise which was employing seven workers in 1955. However, from around I9 6 O on the situation got worse. The quota from the Cooperative became irregular and unreliable, the general market situation deteriorated by tremendous inflation. Pak Newton's enter prise was reduced in size employing only the average of three workers since then. The present situation (1972) is still depressed. Pak Newton can hire only two workers now, one regular semi-skilled worker (buruh) for general work paid daily Rp. 15 0 and the other skilled engraver (tukang natah) paid by pieces in the average of Rp. 200 a day. Pak Newton gets orders from three sources; first, from the retail shops in Jogja with which he has long business relations; second, from the Cooperative (nowadays it becomes active only when a large quantity of orders come from the Presidential Palace for souvenirs of state visits; third, from one of the two largest silver enterprises in Kotagede, which often needs the cooperation of smaller enterprises like Pak Newton's to process a bulk order in a limited time. For ordinary business gains, Pak Newton relies on the first type of business, but the latter two also give considerable amounts of extraordi nary business gains. In all cases Pak Newton does not have to purchase the material, silver bar, for the customers provide them. Pak Newton gets === [PDF page 269] === paid for the workmanship when the complete products are returned to the customers. He does engage in the production of ready-made products using the silver alloy of lower quality but this does not require a large amount of capital. The net profit of Pak Newton rarely exceeds Rp. 10,000 a month when the wages and other necessary expenses for the production pro cesses are paid. The profit from this small silver enterprise of Pak Newton all goes to the maintenance of his household. To this, his wife makes her own contribution from the peddling of batik in the market of Bantul, Kabupaten capital, about 20 kilometers southwest of Kotagede. She goes there on bicycle almost everyday, always on the five-day cycle market days. The joint income of Pak and Ibu Newton amounts somewhere between Rp. 15,000 and Rp. 20,000. They have got four children— the eldest is 22 years old and the youngest, 10 years old. Pak Newton's is a typical Muhammadijah family. He himself says, "I am an ordinary member (anggota biasa) a n d he has never been in a leader ship position even in his kampong. But he and his family strictly observe daily prayers, Friday prayers, and fasting. Pak andIbu Newton have always contributed zakat fitrah as well as korban. Ibu Newton is also a graduate of the Muhammadijah primary school in Kotagede, and is a member of Aisjijah. Their children have all gone through the Muhammadij ah school system or are still in the midst of it. The oldest boy went through it locally and now is a third-year student at the Medical School of the Gadjah Mada University in Jogja. The second boy is also a Gadjah Mada student in the Faculty of Social and Political Sciences. Their younger sister is in the Muhammadijah Junior High. The youngest boy is still at the Kotagede Muhammadijah primary school. === [PDF page 270] === 246 They are living in a modest house of their own constructed in the mid-1 9 5 0 's, and they are living modestly, clothed neatly, and look healthy. What struck me as a great puzzle in the field was the question of how Pak and Ihu Newton could afford to send all their children to school. The tuition and fees of the University cost Bp. 15,000 for the Faculty of Social and Political Sciences and more than Rp. 30,000 for the Medical School (I heard a rumor that it costs at least Rp. 30,000 a year to stay at the Medical School for extra expenses than the officially required tui tion and fees including special 'appreciation money' for professors). The expenses for their younger sister and brother are not so large but un doubtedly amount to at least a few hundred rupiahs a month in total. All in all Pak and Ibu Newton must provide at least Rp. 50,000 a year for their children’s education. When this is compared to a possible income of Rp. 240,000 a year for the couple, it is clear that they are spending an ex tremely large portion, more than one fifth, of their income for education. And Pak and Ibu Newton are prepared to send all the rest of their children to the University level. The older children sometimes bring home irregular incomes of their own. But still, the burden of education of their children is mostly carried by Pak and Ibu Newton, and they are proudly doing so. They are sacrificing day-to-day luxury for future gains, if any, throu^ investing in their children's education. Pak and Ibu Newton are not exceptional. There are many hardworking fathers and mothers who are sending their children to schools and univer sities out of their modest incomes in Kotagede. There are all together about one hundred university and academy students in Kotagede kota now. This is quite a disproportionately large number for a small town like === [PDF page 271] === 247 Kotagede. The majority of their parents are Muhammadijah members, and most of the students themselves are active in Pemuda Muhammadijah (youth) and Nasjatal Aisjijah (young girls), or in an independent organization, Peladjar Islam Indonesia (Indonesian Islamic Students). Muhammadijah parents' enthusiasm for children's education cannot be explained solely in terms of rational calculation of present frugality and' investment for future gains. For it has been quite difficult for university graduates to find appropriate jobs. There are many cases of unemployed and underemployed university graduates in Kotagede. *B.A.' as 'belum ^aapa', meaning 'not yet anything*, and 'M.A.' for 'masih ^da dirumah', 'still staying home’ are standard jokes for the plight of many degreeholders. Muhammadijah parents' spending for their children's education must be interpreted in the religious dimension as well. It is not an oper ation in the narrow sense of means-end rationality, but rather that of the rationality of meaning. Reformist religious teaching exhorts the contin uous pursuit of knowledge as a God-given obligation of the faithful. The very action of saving up from the daily income to provide education for the children is interpreted as a fulfillment of this obligation. What matters for the faithful is not so much possible future gains resulting from the present action, but the religious significance of their present action The seemingly 'secular' action of spending a large amount of money for the education of children is, in fact, an integral part of the expres sion of the religiosity of the faithful. Other sociological factors, such as the democratization of the Indonesian educational system and the heightened prestige of degree-holders, certainly have facilitated and in === [PDF page 272] === 248 duced their religiosity to he materialized in the field of education. But what is more to these circumstantial factors is the religious factor. I was very much impressed by the significance of the religious factor, not so much in terms of a marker for social groupings like Geertzian abangan-santri-prijaji trichotomy, but rather as a criterion for selfidentity, self-evaluation and as the ultimate point of reference for the individual's action. When I had a conversation with Hadji Masjhudi a few months prior to his death, I outlined for him the Western (American?) understanding of the Javanese religious situation à la Geertz and asked his comments. The following is his answer: "Yes, the understanding is all right (pengertlan itu baik) but it is already a past (sudah dulu-dulunja). Formerly there were the separate groups (golongan) of abangan, santri and prijaji. Their ways of life (tjara hidup) were different from each other. Prijaji, called amat dalem here, were ordered by the kraton to guard (djaga) the Pasarejan, received salary land (tanah gadji) and the people, and governed (menguasai) this place (daerah ini). Santri prayed in the Mosque, officiated marriages, registered di vorces, and when people died, called in for funeral. Abangan was the rest of people, the 'little people' (wong tjilik). They were under prijaji. When ordered to pray (sembahjang), they just prayed. When ordered to contribute labor (kasih tenaga), they just offered it. In return, they were given meals and prize money (wang hadijah). The three groups were separate (terpisah) and differences were obvious. But recently [i.e.‘, since the 1920 reform!], after the salary land of amat dalem was abolished, the differences started to disappear. Prijaji no longer behave like prijaji (mrija.ii). If a prijaji has no salary land, or no people under him, what is the use of behaving like prijaji? It is the more so when he has no official status (p a n ^ a t ) or wealth. The same is true with santri. Nowadays many people pray like santri. Marriage and death are taken care of by KUA (Religious Affairs Office). So there is no longer a particular group of santri. The same with the little people, abangan. If well educated, even an abangan can get an official position (pangkat). He can even have === [PDF page 273] === 249 much more religious knowledge (ilmu agama) than an old-fashioned santri (santri kolot). So the former differences have disappeared. Nowadays anybody can become any kind of person (siapa-siapa bisa mendjadi apa-apa sadja). The main point is how one behaves; like prijaji (berprijaji), like santri (bersantri) or like abangan (berabangan). It is ber, ber, ber ('doings') that makes the difference. The important difference today is if one is a bit progressed (sedikit madju) or still left behind (masih ketinggalan), especially in the field of religious conscious ness (kesadaran agama). It is true that there are those who are a little wealthier than others and a little poorer than others; a little higher or lower in positions (pangkat). But the differences are not so large as the past. The essential thing (pokoknja) is if one is already deep (dalam) in faith (jakin) and performs religious obligations (beriman)." A similar but more 'radical' view was expressed by a HMIcolumnist in an Islamic newspaper in Jogja. The columnist quoted CliffordGeertz’clas sification of abangan, santri and prijaji and commented: "Whatever predicate (predikat) a human being uses to describe-another human being, it is after all a matter of human beings....But God has already given His classification of human beings vis-à-vis the Qur'an." And quoting the verses of the Qur'an (II:2-20, Arberry 1955:VI, 30-32), he presents what he claims to be God's classification of mankind into the Mukminin (who firmly believe in the truth of the Qur'an andfollow the teaching), the Kafir (unbelievers whose eyes and ears are completely closed to the truth of the Qur'an) and the Munafik (hypocrits who only give lipservice to the Qur'an). In conclusion the columnist says, "This classification is comprehensive and practical enough to be always used by human beings as the model for themselves. As to other criteria like one presented by Clifford Geertz we can only say that that is all right (boleh-boleh sadja)" (Mertju Suar 11 January 1972). === [PDF page 274] === 250 We may just shrug and say that those statements are of true believers and have no sociological significance other than as a piece of ethnographic data. But I want to take them more seriously for they seem to point up a significant problem for the sociology of religion especially in the Java nese context. The problem is related to the matter of religious selfidentification and its sociological significance. Sociological attributes usually supply necessary explanations for individuals’ or groups' religious identification. However, more often than not, they fail to provide suffi cient explanations. EEZEKI; 'LIVELIHOOD' OR 'LUCK' The foregoing sections must have been sufficient to make the point that it is getting increasingly difficult to locate the Muhammadijah mem bers in a socio-economic scale. The differentiation on the basis of tradi tional status group is gone for good. A new class structure is not welldeveloped. There is a vague differentiation of the penggede ('big men') and the wong tjilik (’little people’), and in between a still amorphous group of the kaum pertengahan ('middle group’). Muhammadi jah members are rarely to be found among the penggede for obvious political reasons. They are spread widely in various segments of the kaum pertengahan and the wong tjilik, with a heavier concentration in the former. The distinction between the middle group and the little people is blurred when it comes to the po litical distinction, for an ’enough' person may feel politically completely powerless vis-à-vis the ’big men'. There must be more sophisticated de vices to identify the socio-economic attributes of Muhammadijah members than the one I have employed. But I stand with the conclusion that it is less meaningful now to regard the Muhammadijah movement as an expression === [PDF page 275] === 251 of socio-economic interests of a certain group or a segment of the popula tion. If it is necessary to make some connections between socio-economic and religious factors at all, I feel it more fruitful to locate Muhammadi jah members and non-members alike in the context of general economic im poverishment in which most of them are both facing enormous economic dif ficulties and striving to sustain day-to-day existence. And in coping with this matter of daily subsistence, there seem to be two distinctive ways of doing it, and here again I find the religious fac tor comes in to distinguish them. The two alternative strategies for economic subsistence and survival are contrasting in their mutually dis tinctive ethics and patterns of interpersonal relationships. They are both available and accessible as simultaneously existing choices of action. One strategy is to find a powerful and wealthy patron and obtain his total protection as a loyal client. This is basically an abangan alter native, and the majority of Kotagede masses are taking this alternative. A second alternative is to strive to maintain one’s economic independence as much as possible by avoiding deeper involvement with others and by keeping one’s economic activity within the range of one's immediate con trol. The second alternative is the one taken by the Muhammadi jah minority. (a third, or a variant of the first alternative, was to exert economic pressures on the basis of political unity— the alternative propagated and practiced by PKI. But since the banning of the party in 1965, this alter native is no longer available for the Kotagede masses.) The abangan pattern is characterized by the mutual asymmetrical depen dence of individuals. Ifhen the Communist Party was alive, this pattern seems to have had much egalitarian emphasis in the forms of cooperatives === [PDF page 276] === 25 2 and, to a lesser degree, trade unions. The economically less privileged were themselves organized and exerted group pressures on the relatively wealthy in order to secure distribution of economic resources. With the disappearance of PKI and its mass organizations, the poor have mostly lost bargaining powers. They have now to secure patronage of the wealthy on an individual and personal basis. Expressing personal loyalty in the form of diffused services, a poor individual attaches himself to a rela tively wealthy patron for protection and assurance of continuous income to survive. The most extreme mode of this patron-client relationship is re cognized in the form of the household servant, who is completely servile to the patron and is given food, clothing and shelter at the level of minimal necessity. In such a case, monetary reward for the service of a servant is almost negligible and in fact is given not as wage but as allow ance. This asymmetrical patron-client pattern underlies relationships between the local government officials and their appretice-assistants, be tween the workshop owner/managers and their hired daily laborers, and be tween the wholesalers and their clientele, i.e., small peddlers. The relationships are coated with the emotion of pity (kasihan) and the sense of the moral duty to help the poor on the part of the relatively wealthy job-givers and the feeling of appreciation for the patron’s personal favor and the personal loyalty on the part of job-receivers. The practices of advancement of wages for daily laborers, advancement of credits in the form of commodities for small peddlers, and advanced payment with orders for craftsmen are concomitant with these patron-client relationships. The patron is expected to show care and extend favor for such personal matters of the client and his family members as birth, circumcision, wedding. === [PDF page 277] === 253 funeral, schooling, sickness, etc. In return the client and his family members' services are always available to the patron. The abangan religious ethic is congruent with this patron-client pattern, for the aspect of superordination and subordination is often coated with and embedded in ritual interactions of gift exchanges, communal feasts, paternalistic care of the patron for the client and obedience of the latter to the former. Especially interesting is the fact that many of these abangan-type patrons are practitioners of mystical ciilts. These patrons engage in various traditional mystic practices— meditations in the kramat places, occasional fastings, intaking of special herbs, etc.— and supposedly accumulate mystical powers in their persons. Wealth, number of clients, personal appearance and virility in the number of wives are regarded to be the measure of a patron's potency in mystical powers. The abangat •'lient tries to attach himself to the patron of high potency who can most ex.:ctively protect him and secure his livelihood. The Muhammadijah ethic concerning the way of making a livelihood and forming interpersonal relationships are in sharp contrast to the abangan counterpart. Basic to the Muhammadi jah's ethic on the economic conduct in the present situation is the notion of rezeki. Like many other value terms in Javanese as we shall see in the next chapter, this one also has ambi guity. Rezeki on the one hand means 'luck and gains by chance', gains which were not expected nor earned through one's labor. In Indonesian the term is often used in this sense, and its meaning is almost the same as another Indonesian word untying ('luck, fortune'; cf. Echols and Shaddily 1 9 6 3:^2 3 ). On the other hand, rezeki in Javanese means 'livelihood' and more specifically 'daily necessities' (rice and food in general). This === [PDF page 278] === 25*4 meaning seems more ’original' than the first etymologically (cf. Pigeand 1 9 3 8:U9 0 ). Incidentally, does this imply that it is becoming merely luck for Javanese to find day's necessities? At any rate, in the latter sense, rezeki is almost synonymous with nafkah in Indonesian ('subsistence' in Echols and Shaddily 1963:253). Muhammadij ah de-emph as izes the first meaning of rezeki and expounds the connotation of the second. It propagates that if a Muslim is really sincere in belief in God, performs ritual obligations properly, regulates social conduct according to the Islamic ethics, then he or she is assured or rezeki (livelihood) by God. The All-Mighty, All-Merciful, and All- Compassionate will unfailingly give rezeki to all His faithful followers. So the faithful need not and must not worry about securing rezeki. It will surely come. The significance of Muhammadij ah concept of rezeki is manifold, but here I mention three most important aspects, most often observed in the usage of the term. First is that oy taking the matter of everyday life as that of God's grace, the most mundane (in our sense) matter of 'breadearning' has come to be regarded as a matter of religious faith. In other words, to work to earn money and to spend it to live is a matter in which the same religious devotion is required as in the performance of 'purely' religious obligations (e.g., rukun Islam). With Kotagede Muhammadijah muballigh (propagandists) I reject one of Geertz' characterizations of modern doctrine that it holds 'narrower' notion of religion in contrast to traditionalist's 'totalistic' and that it tends to separate the sacred and the secular fairly sharply (Geertz 1960:lU9, 152 ff.). Kotagede Muhammadijah preaches an extremely 'totalistic' doctrine and I take it not excep tional but quite logically consistent with other aspects of the reformist tenet. === [PDF page 279] === 255 The second aspect is that when the Muhammadijah notion of rezeki is applied to actual economic conduct, the notion works from the outset to reject what seems to be excessive gains; it is not that to gain profits in whatever means and then to donate the surpluses to religious causes, but that to limit from the beginning the target of gains to the amount appropriate for modest spendings. In other words, the goal of economic activities is to maintain one's subsistence. The subsistence level of life is taken to be the proper level of life for the truly faithful. A third aspect of rezeki in Muhammadij ah teaching today is that it entails a sort of individualism in economic activities. Each individual is taken as the agent of faith and devotion and the object of God’s judg ment. Individual's ultimate salvation is solely dependent upon one's own deeds. And one's deeds include economic conduct. One cannot and must not share responsibilities with others in economic activities, and he cannot and must not alienate from others the result of his economic conduct. Hence an extreme kind of individualism in economic conduct quite opposite to any degree of corporateness. One may recall here James Siegel's critical comments on Geertz* assump tion that reformist Islam may work for the development of corporate type of economic organizations from atomistic market traders (Siegel 1969:200n). Siegel attributes the lack of corporateness in Atjehnese economic activi ties to the notion of akal (cf. ibid.:2U2-250, especially 245). Among Javanese reformist Muslims, however, the notion of akal is played down. Muhammadijah members' economic conduct is affected by a conviction that this-worldly matters such as wealth, prestige and status are only temporary and essentially irrelevant to the ultimate salvation of indivi duals in the afterlife. To maintain a decent life in this world, only a === [PDF page 280] === 256 minimum of daily necessities is required and the ultimate salvation is con ditional upon the deeds of individuals in this world. One's deeds must follow the Muslim obligatory prescriptions, and, furthermore, one is ad vised to meet various ethical admonitions recommended in the Holy Scrip tures. The agent of faith and devotional action is the individual for he is the object of divine salvation. On the basis of these notions Muhammadijah members try to avoid eco nomic or any other kinds of dependency on others. In economic interactions this is most explicitly evidenced. A Muhammadijah wage-laborer is very much likely to request his employer that rights and obligations, wages and fringe benefits, etc., be spelled out in very specific terms, for he is rendering his labor to the employer under specific terms but not his person. Muhammadi jah traders prefer short-term cash transactions to prolonged debtor-ereditor relationships. Muhammadij ah entrepreneurs rarely expand their business enterprises indefinitely but always attempt to split them up into smaller independent units and keep the size of the unit manageable, under personal control. In forming business partnerships or employeremployee relationships, the most valued criterion is one's religiosity which is regarded as the surest measurement of trustfulness of the other party. With the emphasis on rezeki as a summation of its economic ethic Mu hammadijah encourages independence and self-sufficiency and provides a moral principle (pendirian) not to surrender to the socio-economic pres sures threatening to engulf Muslims. Here seems to lie an answer to the apparent paradox of why more people are getting religiously more pious in spite of increasing general impoverisliment. Here seems to lie an answer === [PDF page 281] === 257 to the question why Muhammadi jah Muslims are not desparate hut still selfconfident in the face of appalling material conditions of their lives. The abangan life style is relaxed, nonchalant, less planned, and un predictable, for his fate is trusted to his patron. But the santri life style is rigidly regulated by self-discipline and relatively long-term plans. Yet abangan and santri religious differentiations do not necessar ily create mutually exclusive social groupings. Both are found in the same residential unit, workshop, office, market, informal and formal social and economic associations (credit associations, cooperatives, neighbor hood associations, etc.). Even within a single individual, the two orien tations may exist side by side. The two orientations are posed as alter native ways of action always at hand. The fact that Muhammadijah is in creasing steadily indicates that increasingly a large number of individuals are more frequently abandoning the abangan pattern of interpersonal rela tionships and ethic and choosing the alternatives propagated by Muhammadijah, Muhammadijah is fundamentally an action group or a movement, unlike the established church in the West. Muhammadijah's existence and organiza tional strength derives from numerous individuals * ber, ber, ber ('doings'). UMMAT ISLAM The action-aspect of Muhammadijah discussed in the previous section leads us to the necessity of re-examining the concept of Ummat Islam. The term has been customarily translated as 'community of Muslims', and I, too, have followed the convention thus far. However, the convention should no longer be taken for granted. First of all, if we take the term to mean the totality of individuals who are professed to the religion of Islam, 99^ of the Kotagede population === [PDF page 282] === 258 will be covered by the term. However, as a sociological entity, this totality of individuals does not have much significance. It does not have a marked boundaiy other than the one vaguely territorial. It lacks inter nal cohesion. There are no organizational devices to create and maintain even a measure of cohesion and solidarity. In fact, it is not an organiza tional reality at all. The notion of ’ummat Islam' is a postulate rather than a reality. If we take the criterion of self-consciousness and self-identification, then ummat Islam is reduced to become almost identical with the Muhammadijah membership and its followers. Here again we come to confront peculiarities of Muhammadijah which do not conform to the notion of a 'religious commun ity' or even that of a 'sect' in the Western sense. It is not an equivalent of the Church or a congregation. It does not perceive any particular on tological justifications by Islamic theology other than that it is an or ganization of the pious. There are no differentiations of roles between the ecclesiastical order and that of laymen. The leadership of Muhammadi jah is literally a group of functionaries (pengurus, urus = to manage), and it does not claim any religious superiority or authority vis-à-vis the rest of the membership. Neither are there any institutional devices for internal discipline other than self-discipline of individual members. As to the relationship between Muhammadijah and the larger population of '99^ Muslims', again there are no institutional devices that enable the former to claim to be the representative or the leadership of the latter even in the purely religious sphere. Nor can Muhammadijah impose its version of Islam onto others through institutionalized sanctions. After having de stroyed institutionalized Islam of the traditional Javanese version, Muham- === [PDF page 283] === 25 9 madijah has created nothing whatsoever to replace it other than the 'move ment' to directly appeal to personal conviction and conduct. Muhammadijah is thus in every aspect a voluntary association par excellence. Ummat Islam is not a sociological entity in the ordinary social struc tural sense. It is created and experienced momentarily here and now through the ritual actions of the faithful. It is an 'anti-structure' in Victor Turner's sense, and the mode of ritual action and the relationship of in dividuals in the ritual context are characterized by those of 'liminality' and 'communitas' (Turner 19^9:Chapters III and IV, 1972: Chapters VI and VIl). One of the fundamental ritual actions for the Muslims is sholat, ritual prayer. Muslims must perform sholat five times a day, individually or in group, of which the Friday noon prayer must be performed in group in a mosque or a musholia. In addition, on the mornings of two Muslim annual holy days of Hari Raya Idul Fitri and Hari Raya Idul Adha, a public prayer, sholat i'ed, is performed in an open field. The public prayer has been a distinctive reformist ritual innovation. (Of course, from the reformist viewpoint it is not an innovation but a restoration of a Qur'anic tradi tion.) The public prayer forms an essential part of the Muhammadijah ritual actions. A brief description of a public prayer I observed in Kotagede on the morning of 1971 Hari Raya Idul Fitri is as follows: Prior to participating in the public prayer, each participant per forms the ablutions in a prescribed manner at home and thereby cleanses all the dirt of the mundane world from his/her body. Clad in washed-clean or new clothing, women covering the entire body with white clothes except faces, the participants gather at a crossroad or the yard of a langgar === [PDF page 284] === 26o (prayer house) of their own kampong reciting 'Allahu Akhar' (Allah the Greatest') in low voices. Men and women form separate groups in a row and start a procession to the open field where the public prayer is going to be held. Small streams of the participants from narrow kampong alleys meet and join on the main road and eventually form a single column of a mile-long procession. An extensive vegetable field (tegalan) located about two kilometers northwest of the center of the town has been used for the public prayer. Now the vegetables are all removed and weeds cleared, the place is simply an open flat field without any hindrances. Rope lines are laid at a regular interval to indicate the rows to sit facing in the exact direction of Mekka. No decorations are provided except for the two flags, one, the red and white flag of the Republic of Indonesia, and the other, the green flag of Muhammadijah, both on the bamboo posts. A podium, mimbar, is located in front but it is not used for the performance of the public prayer but for the sermon, chotbah, given after the prayer. An amplifier system is provided, and a microphone is places in front of the seat of the iman, the leader of prayer. To this open field, now the participants approach in a long proces sion with the Muhammadijah Youth drum band at the head. The participants are now chanting 'Allahu Akbar' loudly in melody, repeatedly in unison, with solemn expressions. Upon entering the open field, men and boys sit in the order of arrival in the front half of the field, and women and girls, clad, completely in white, in the back half still chanting 'Allahu Akbar'. The prayer itself begins with the Imam's reciting 'Allahu Akbar' three times in a rapid pitch without melodization. Then the entire participants === [PDF page 285] === 26l start the morning ritual prayer with the recitation of the first verse of the Qur'an with the accompanying prescribed body movements (the basic se quence of the ritual prayer, raka'at, is not different.from the one finely described by James Siegel 1969:110-113). The Imam sets the pace of the prayer through the loudspeaker and the participants more or less follow it. But the ritual prayer is fundamentally an individual action, and everybody has to perform it as accurately as possible. So some go slower than the rest and others, faster. Especially those who are late to arrive in the field go through the entire prayer sequence at their own pace even when the rest are far ahead. The ritual prayer itself is brief and does not last more than five minutes to complete, and it ends with the Muslim greet ing, 'Assalamu'alaikum warochmatullahi wabarkatuh (May God give you peace and prosperity. His mercy and His blessings)'. Now the participants are visibly relaxed, and the women and girls take off their white covers sud denly revealing their colorful and festive dresses from underneath. Then the sermon is given for about twenty minutes by a speaker different from the Imam. After the sermon, an announcement is made by a Muhammadijah functionary on the results of the zakat fitrah. The public prayer meeting is over, and the participants return to their kampong again in procession but this time the drum band at the end. The participants chant repeatedly 'Allahu Akbar' as before, but this time in an openly cheerful manner. The procession gradually dissolves itself when its units come and disappear into their own kampong entrances from the main road. In this public prayer, about 6,000 people participated out of the entire population of about 1 0,0 0 0 (there were several other smaller public prayer meetings held for the outlying kampongs in Kotagede). === [PDF page 286] === 262 Let me recapitulate the entire ritual sequence in Turnerian terms. First, the ritual ablutions set the motion of the ritual and physical separation of the participants from the mundane world. The prayer meeting was held in an outside place where no decorations were found and utter simplicity prevailed. In this liminal state, the relationships between the participants were least structured. All social differentiations in terms of roles and positions were ignored. The participants were seated without reflecting social hierarchies at all, which was quite a contrast to other ceremonial occasions where the seating pattern was rigidly hierarchical. The internal differentiation of the ritual roles was minimal, the Imam being the leader of the prayer and the rest undifferentiated. The distinc tion of the sexes was made but the sexuality, especially that of the fe males, was ritually negated by the white covers. The recitation of formula 'Allahu Akbar' induced the state of ichlas, sincere devotion. Other emo tions than that of the devotion to God were minimized, and the partici pants prepared themselves to encounter with God as His humble hamba, ser vants. It was an encounter of the individual with God in the purest and simplest manner, but the utmost formality of the prayer erased all indi vidual peculiarities arising from social contingencies. The participants meet God as His creatures without other attributes, and they meet each other in the ritual context as His fellow creatures. The ritual reality thus created was that of haram, or inviolability.^ The procession back to In salat [ s h o l a t. h e [the Muslim] is transformed into a state of in violability or haram. He has left behind him the temporal world with its uncertainties, ambiguities, doubts and vexations. He is before Allah in a formal manner and his presence is sanctified...." (Mahul 1974:16). The common understanding of the concept of haram by outsiders is that of Mus lim taboos such as the prohibition of eating uork. However, besides this === [PDF page 287] === 263 the kampongs is the process of re-aggregation to society, to which they return with heightened religiosity and festivity. Sholat i'ed, the public prayer, is the largest ritual occasion in which a majority of Kotagede Muslim population participates, but on a smaller scale they daily perform essentially similar prayers. The daily ritual prayers also create the state of inviolability at intervals within a day. The ritual state constantly reminds the faithful of an ideal state to which they must endeavor to live up to in the mundane context as well. The ummat Islam, 'community of Muslims', is thus temporarily but directly created and experienced through the ritual action by the faithful, and as a dif ferent order of reality it presents itself as the ultimate point of refer ence for the faithful. 5 cont. negative aspect, haram has a positive meaning, the state of divine conse cration. I somehow became aware of the difference of understanding of the concept between Muslum-believers and non-believers through my field exper ience, but it was Dr. C.A. Majul, a renowned Muslim and Islamologist of the Philippines, who personally enlightened me theologically on this matter. Hereby I acknowledge his help. === [PDF page 288] === CHAPTER V THE IDEOLOGY OF MUHAI-EvlADIJAH: TRADITION AND TRAIfSFORMATION "So, to get along well with your neigh bor, the way must be proper. Ifhen the neighbor just drops in to chat with you (omon-omongan), just welcome him and chat. If he doesn't pray yet, that's all right. You should not make a fool of him (otjo olok-olok). You should not tease him irritatingly (otjo ngétjé-etje). J f he falls sick, then just go and see (tuweni); if in need, go and help; if down with a cold, go and give a coin-massage (keroki). Well it is up to you how you actually do your help. But that is what is called sesrowungan éngkang saé (harmonious way of social intercourse). Aisjijah people, Muhammadijah people, must be able to do this" (speech by Bapak A.R. Fachruddin, President of Muhammadijah, November 28, 1971, Kotage de). In the preceding chapters I have attempted to make two major points. The first, a historical point has been that the Muhammadijah movement must be regarded as a development from within Javanese society rather than as a ready-made import from without. The second, a more contemporary and socio logical point has been that the social basis of the Muhammadijah movement has become greatly widened and it is no longer confined to a small segment of society like urban bourgeoisie. I hope the data I have so far pre sented have supported my points of argument. Even if my argument has not been persuasive enough, I would hope that my ethnography has been signifi cant enough to case some doubts on the conventional view about modern In donesian Islam. In this chapter I shall attempt again to question another 264 === [PDF page 289] === 26 5 aspect of the conventional view that reformist Islam, including Muhammadi jah, is fundamentally alien to Javanese, or non-Javanese, in cultural terms (Benda 1 9 6 5 ). I shall argue that reformist Islam is not antithetical to Javanese culture hut an integral part of it, and what reformists have been endeavoring is, so to speak, to distill a pure essence of Islam from the Javanese cultural tradition. Also, the processes and the final product of distillation are definitely Javanese, just as any highly pure liquors cannot lose local flavors. But before presenting my field data to support my argument, I think it necessary to mention first how I came to cultivate this rather unorthodox view through my field experience. When I first arrived in the field, I had, as mentioned earlier, a very low regard for the significance of Islam for Javanese lives. My pre-field readings of Western literature on Indonesia had made me think that the Islamic phase of modern Indonesian history had long gone, perhaps for good, with the decline of Sarekat Islam as a mass organization in the early 1920’s. I had accepted Wertheim's idea that the Islamic mass upheavals of the 1910's and 1 9 2 0 's were basically the expression of a 'prenationalism' and, with the increasing socio-economic differentiations among the population and the development of more explicitly nationalistic and revolutionary political movements, Islam rather took on a conservative character: "It [modern Islam] gradually lost its lively optimism and was forced on to the defensive. A certain rigidity was the outcome. A mature bourgeois Islam arrived too late on the scene to be what Protestantism had been for centuries: the bearer of new ideas and a fructifying influence on civilization. No sooner had a bourgeois Islam come into existence than the conditions permit ting it to exert a regenerating influence on society === [PDF page 290] === 266 disappeared. It soon lost its élan and became con So when I first experienced the prevailing Islamic religiosity in the Kotagede society, I was rather shocked by the strength of 'historical resi dues' and the 'backwardness' of the town in that regard. I also suspected that the political climate of the New Order must have something to do with the situation in which so many 'religious reactionaries' were kept actively alive. As to the modern history of Islam, my pre-field knowledge had been extremely limited, and I had been quite happy to go along with Clifford Geertz in regarding modern Islam as a misfired reformation: "Stepping backward in order better to leap is an established principle in cultural change; our own Reformation was made that way. But in the Islamic case the stepping backward seems often to have been taken for the leap itself, and what began as a re discovery of the scriptures ended as a kind of deification of them... Islam, in this way, becomes a justification for modernity, without itself actually becoming modern" (Geertz 1968:69). So when I first saw Muhammadijah schools and clinics, and listened to what its teachers and muballigh (propagandists) were preaching, I just found in them a whole lot of pseudo-modernity, second-rate immitations of the Western culture, and unimaginative Arab-Javanized replications of already familiar themes in Protestantism. In short, for me, as an agnostic observer with some Christian background by upbringing and as a secularized social scientist by training, the current religiosity in Kotagede seemed nothing but an inertia of a historical religion and a transitional phase on the way to a more complete secularization. Local religious communica- === [PDF page 291] === 267 tions seemed to be stuffed with apologistic jargons, repeated quotations of stereotypic expressions and bluffing solemnities and formalities. However, in the course of my efforts for immersing myself in the local social life and experiencing the difficulties of day-to-day existence (of course to a much lesser degree compared with the bulk of townspeople), I came to feel that there was something meaningful in these communications. My increasing language ability to comprehend them helped. It was not that I was able to grasp the 'logic' of what was talked about. Neither was it that I came up with a neat explanation in terms of means-end rationality or a teleological function of religion. But I felt that what was talked about did make sense in the context of daily experience there. Daily ex periences were rendered meaningful when interpreted, judged, summated in religious terms employed by the local people. I came to feel that it was ■ quite natural for a large number of townspeople to stick to the religion as their ultimate point of reference in life. Since, initially, I had had no intention of studying religion with particular emphasis, I did not do any systematic data collection. Reli gious communications just naturally flowed into my field work as part of my general encounter with the local people. Later I did interviews of about a dozen Muhammadijah leaders, but I did not focus on religious topics in abstract. I rather solicited their life histories^and religious themes came up with them naturally. As a result, what I experienced and re corded was an array of numerous, fragmentary, unsystematized religious communications. Most of the themes of these religious communications were addressed directly to various existential problems the townspeople were facing. With the increase in my comprehension of vernacular languages === [PDF page 292] === 268 (Indonesian and Javanese), I came to realize how rich, vivid and to the point these religious communications were and how immensely fascinating and interesting the cultural idioms and expressions used in them were. In retrospect what I was doing in the field was largely a study of the 'Ngoko type* of religious communication. Ben Anderson has made a con trast between spontaneous, direct, informal, spoken or ’Ngoko* type of speech and organized, formal, often printed, indirect or 'Kromo* type of speech in Indonesian political communication, and emphasized the necessity of studying the former to get a deeper understanding of Indonesian politi cal life (Anderson 19T3;4o-4l). In most cases of my recordings, Javanese were engaging in religious dialogues among themselves using Javanese as the medium of communication. In the following I shall keep the mode of my presentation 'Ngoko*. I shall avoid deliberately arbitrary abstraction or systematization of the material. I have seen all too often in the recent anthropological litera ture that a 'formal' or 'structural' analysis is only a disguise or 'coverup' for the paucity of sound comprehension of raw data. So in what follows I cannot come up with the presentation of a neat 'world-view', 'cosmology' or 'logic' of Muhammadijah ideology. From a large amount of the records of religious communications I have selected what I believe to represent the most commonly touched subjects and the most significantly used expres sions. way of presentation may be untidy, but I believe, as an ethno grapher, the ground work of compiling and conprehending untidy and rather ephemeral 'Ngoko' type of religious communications must be done to advance our knowledge substantively. === [PDF page 293] === 269 One obvious drawback resulting from my focus on the spoken 'Ngoko* type of religious communications rather than on the printed 'Kromo' type is that my data lack historical contrast and continuity. I could have gone into the work of tracing the course of ideological developments of Muhammadijah by using written documents, but I actually have not attempted it because the work has already been done by others.^ My coverage in this chapter is therefore largely limited to the ethnographic present (1970- 1972). The following part consists of several sections in each of which a pair of contrasting words, concepts and expressions are presented and dis cussed. One side of a pair represents the 'traditional' aspect of Javanese Islam while the other, the reformist and transformative aspect. point that the reformist Islam is a transformation of traditional Islam will be made by discussing the relationship between the two sides in such pairs as gado-gado vs. 'true Muslim', lahir vs. batin, halus vs. kasar, ichlas vs. pamrih. I shall also discuss the significance of Javanese as the medium of communication. GADO-GADO VS. TRUE MUSLIM The consciousness which Muhammadijah muballigh (propaganda cadres) are trying to instill among their local audiences is that traditional Islam is imperfect. The most frequently used metaphor to illustrate that percep tion is gado-gado, Javanese vegetable salad. Let me quote from the text of a sermon (chotbah) which a Muhammadijah leader acting as chotib (sermon For the historical documentation of the 'Kromo* type of religious commun ications among reformist movements, see Federspiel (1970), Alfian (1970) and Noer (1972). === [PDF page 294] === 270 giver) gave to a Friday prayer meeting held in the Great Mosque of Kotagede. (This particular chotbah was given in Indonesian.) "Honorable Participants of the Friday Meeting! The Great Prophet Muhammad passed away from this world more than 1,300 years ago. His teachings in the form of the Qur'an and the Hadith are as old [as that many years]. In these hundreds of years, the call and echo of his teachings have left deep impressions and have been felt in many personalities and many good deeds since then. However, it is also true that sometimes they have been only dimly felt and often remained only in name so that deeds of the [Muslim] community have come to take the appearance of gadogado [Javanese vegetable salad]. [Like gado-gado] there are some ingredients that are well-cooked (masak), but some are only half-cooked (setengah masak), and the rest are still raw (mentah). Ingre dients like kerupuk (fried shrimp chips) and eggs are well-cooked; sprouts and potatoes are half cooked; but cabbages and tomatoes are still raw. "This picture of gado-gado salad is apt to illustrate the present situation of the community of Muhammad. Those who are well-cooked pray five times a day, fast in the month of Puasa, and perform obligatory religious duties; they faithfully follow the example shows by the Prophet Muhammad. Those who are half-cooked may or may not contribute zakat (religious taxes); but they ask help of magical healers (dukun) and diviners (djuru ramal); they seek blessings at the sacred graves of saints (kuburan wali-wali keramat), Sometimes some of them may even retreat into the world of metaphysics (dunia wirid), perform ascetics (zuhud), and become learned mystics (wiragi) who completely abandon this-worldly matters despite the fact that the body is still in this world. Those who are still un cooked are stingy (bachil), close-fisted (kikir), greedy (serakah), covetous (tamak), and cannot be trusted by others for they take advantage of others mercilessly. [Consequently], as long as our Islam continues to have the quality of gado-gado, we must nèver be a tukang amin-amin (he who repeats amen only) sitting behind the crowd: Islam must always be placed in the front line (didepan barisan). If we remain tukang amin-amin in the back, then we are to blame for leaving Islam in the gado-gado situa tion. If we regard the Great Prophet Muhammad as the truest and most absolute example, then we must also follow him in an absolute way,..." === [PDF page 295] === 271 The text goes on to emphasize the importance of courage (keheranian) in carrying on the fight against gado-gado and the necessity of the unity (kesatuan) of the Muslim community for the task, saying that final success is guaranteed by Allah, quoting the Qur'an: ; "O Prophet, urge on the believers to fight. If there be twenty of you, patient men [in Indonesian, orang jang berhati teguh, lit., 'People who are firmminded'] they will overcome two hundred [enemies]; if there be a hundred of you, they will overcome a thousand unbelievers (kafir) for they are a people who understand not [in Indonesian, kaum jang tidak mengerti]'* (The Qur'an IIX:65 ff. English transla tion is from Arberry 1955:204). The categorization of the ummat by the degree of understanding is charac teristic of the reformist perception of the entire populace. The tone of self-confidence in 'he who understands' sounds almost like arrogance and contempt for 'those who still do not understand*. However, in order better to appreciate the conviction of a Muhammadij ah activist like this chotib (sermon giver), it is necessary to see how he reached this degree of conviction. Most Muhammadi jah activists were themselves born abangan but later chose to be santri. The life history of this chotib will illus trate the point. I shall call him 'Dja'far', a santri name. Pak Dja’far was born in 1922 in one of the oldest kampong of Kotagede as a son of a government school teacher. His grandfather was a bekel. Before he entered elementary school, he was attracted to religious courses for small boys given by Kijaji Amir in the neighboring kampong. In spite of the fact that his father was a teacher of the Javanese language at the government elementary school in Kotagede, he went to Muhammadijah's second class elementary school and then === [PDF page 296] === 272 to its HIS. He was an active member of Hisbul Wathan. He continued his secondary education in Muhammadijah’s Muallimin in Jogja. Then he learned English at Muhammadijah’s foreign language academy in Jogja and now has a fairly good command of it. After graduation, he started to teach at Mu hammadijah' s HIS in Kotagede. With the coming of the Japanese, he was picked to head Seinendan ('Youth Association', the Japanese-created para military organization) in the Solo part of Kotagede. After independence he became the commander of Badan Keamanan Rakjat, or People's Security Organ ization, the Republican regular army, in the same territory. In this capa city he participated in the battles of Semarang-Ambarawa in October- November 19*45 in which the young Republican forces repulsed for the first time the attempted advancement of the Allied (British) forces into South Central Java. However, after this battle experience, Pak Dja’far decided to quit the military to get back to education. He then taught in various Muhammadijah schools in Kotagede and later in Jogja, which led finally to the position of inspector of private schools in Jogja in the Department of Education and Culture just prior to the outbreak of the G-30-S affair in 1 9 6 5 * In addition to this government position, he was the secretary of the Masjumi Party in Kotagede until the party was banned in I9 6 O and a member of the local leadership board of Muhammadijah for many years. From 196*4 to 1966 he was selected as one of the chotib of the Great Mosque in Kotagede and the sermon quoted above was given during this period. Unlike other chotib, Pak Dja'far always gave sermons in Indonesian rather than in Javanese. Partly because of this and partly because of his Pak Dja’far keeps typewritten texts of all the sermons he gave during this period, and he gave me permission to read and quote from the texts. Written during this eventful period, the texts are an invaluable documentation of the events perceived through the eyes of a local Muslim leader and Muslim reactions to these events. === [PDF page 297] === 273 uncomprimlsing personality, he was not so popular among elderly Muslims, who regarded him with mixed feelings of fear and respect. But he was im mensely popular among younger Muslims, many of whom were his former pupils. A few months prior to the outbreak of the G-30-S incident, he organized a semi-secret Muslim youth Organization, Pasukan Pemuda Senopati ('Youth Troops of Senopati' [the name of the founder of the Islamic Mataram King dom whose body is buried in the Pasarejan of Kotagede]), which recruited from devout Muslim young men locally. The organization was set up for the self-defense of the Muslim community in anticipation of the impending final showdown with PKI, who in August of the same year set up a military training center in a Communist dominated kampong in Kotagede. The Senopati youths were given para-military training including pent.jak, the traditional Javanese self-defense art, which was Pak Dja'far's favorite sport. Eventually the Pasukan Senopati grew to include four platoons of about forty troopers each, or about two hundred in total, including the staff and commanders. In August 19&5, Pak Dja'far began to establish contacts with Muslim veterans of the Revolutionary Way secretly to set up a Muslim para military force in Central Java. But before this effort materialized, the G-30-S affair broke out. From November 19^5 to January 1966, the Pasukan Pemuda Senopati, now surfaced on the ground, was instrumental in arresting local PKI leaders and caders and handing them over to the Jogja military authorities who were sometimes not so eager in arresting local PKI members. In May 1966, the Pasukan Pemuda Senopati was again active in showing sup port for the Anti-Sukarno campaign in Djakarta. During this period, Pak Dja'far was arrested in a skirmish with the PNI and other Sukarno supporters. Even though he was the representative of the Muslims to the Orde Baru (New === [PDF page 298] === 2 74 Order, President Suharto's regime) forces in Kotagede and personally em bodied the linkage between the so-called '45 Generation (the Youths of the '45 Revolution) and the '66 Generation (the Youth of the '66 Anti- Sukamo Movement), he was deprived of his government post and of the right to engage in political activities in 19^9 because of his former leadership position in the Masjumi Party, which under the Suharto government was still banned. He then withdrew from the public scene and has since taught at a private academy in Jogja for his livelihood, I first met Pak Dja'far in the fall of 1970 right after I settled in Kotagede. He lived alone with his son in an old house which he inherited from his father in the Solo part of Kotagede. When I visited his house I found autographed pictures of the former Masjumi leaders, M. Natsir and Burhanuddin Harahap, hung on the living room wall. He noticed my surprise, at such open definace of the official unfavorable attitude of Suharto's government against•former Masjumi leaders and smilingly said, "They were called extreme right before. They are still called so now. I do not know if the labelling is correct. But I do know that they have been democrats consistently (konsekwen) and conscientiously (Jakin)." Despite the fact that Pak Dja'far was in a very difficult situation personally and publicly he showed no signs of frustration but maintained good spirits and physical fitness. Since 1966 he has been a faithful reader/subscriber of the weekly paper Mahasiswa Indonesia, Bandung edition, an organ of KAMI (Indonesian Students Action Front), one of the few newspapers outspokenly critical of the present government. He defined himself as "genuine, ori ginal Muhammadi jah (Muhammadijah jang asli dan originiel)". He foresaw difficult times for reformist Muslims in the coming years. They must, he === [PDF page 299] === 275 said, stick to the ideal shown by K.H. Dahlan, "To live the life of a true Muslim in fullest compliance with the Islamic teachings (hidup sebagai orang Islam Jang se-benar-nja sepandjang adJaran agama Islam)". The most dangerous thing for Muhammadi jah now is to be lured by government positions and compromise its principles. He looked up at the picture of the former Masjumi leaders on the wall and said, "They were men of princi ple. They never thought of positions (pangkat) or personal security (keselametan sendiri)." Now to examine the sermon in the light of this personal life history. The categorization of the entire population in terms of degree of religious orthodoxy and devoutness is typical of the reformist perception of Indone sian society. One might find a parallel between this reformist Islamic categorization of 'those who understand' vs. 'those who still do not under stand' and a more general social categorization of the aware (insaf, sadar) vs. the unaware (masa bodoh) (cf. Geertz 1 9 6 5:Chapter V, especially 129 ff.) However, one critical point of difference is that reformist Muslims make it their task to convert 'the unaware' to 'the aware'. For leaders of other political persuasions, masa bodoh only calls for paternalistic care (momongan, lit., nursing, babysitting). (I did not, of course, have the opportunity of observing PKI’s activities.) Those in power positions especially play on the 'stupidity' of the masa bodoh and no serious effort is made to close the gap between the aware and the unaware perhaps because they fear that the increasing 'awareness' of the unaware may undermine their privileged position. For reformist Muslims, however, the existence of the unaware is a constant reminder that their Muslim duties have not yet been filled. They feel they are burdened with historical inertia. === [PDF page 300] === 276 Âdat Islam which they have inherited from the preceding generations can he valued as an asset only if it constitutes a point of departure for a purer Islam. Once 'aware', one cannot be content with the status quo but instead must work to alter the gado-gado situation. Pak Dja'far's life history presents a good example of how a Javanese Muslim has striven to rid himself of gado-gado and become a 'true Muslim'. When he says gadogado he is actually referring to himself and his immediate environment in the past. As mentioned earlier, prior to the Dutch reform of administration in 1 9 2 0, Pak Dja'far's grandfather was a bekel (assistant) for a djurukuntji in the Solo territory of Kotagede. As a bekel, he had control over a considerable amount of rice land, kept many personal followers, and was economically better off. He held the title of Raden, a title for the lesser nobility. He was pensioned after the reform, but one of his sons, Dja'far's uncle, became a village official in the newly-created kalurahan (administrative village). Another of his sons, Dja'far's father, became a guru bahasa Djawa, Javanese language teacher, at a government elementary school. He was an abdi dalem (royal servant) of the Solo Susuhunate and was given an appropriate name for his position and function as a teacher. He was also allowed to use the title of Raden. Pak Dja'far was born and raised in this lower prijaji milieu. From his childhood Pak Dja'far learned from his father what is called by the generic^term 'toto tjoro' (lit,, 'order' and 'way' in Javanese), the proper ways of Javanese life, including traditional Javanese literature, etiquette and ethics, and aesthetic and physical training. He still now has a good knowledge of what is proper toto-tjoro and is rather sensitive === [PDF page 301] === 277 about it. For example, when I distributed ritual food among neighbors and acquaintances in Kotagede in a besek (small bamboo slat box) on the occasion of my son's first birthday, Pak Dja'far immediately sent a thank-you letter in which he meticulously enumerated what he found wrong with my way of performing selametan for a birthday. His criticism was twofold. First, he pointed out that the composition of the ritual food ingredients and the way they were cooked did not follow the way people do it in Kotagede. (I had entrusted the preparation of the ritual food to my old maid who was not a Kotagedean but from Jogja. ) But the major point of his criticism was that I was not advised to indulge in this custom of musjrik (polytheism) at all because every ingredient had magical meaning which constituted the negation of tauchid, the unity of God. (Later he told me, "As a Protestant, you don't want to compromise in the principle of monotheism, do you? I don't either, as a Muslim.") In his letter he- said that there are in Kotagede three categories of people, those who adhere to the Islamic teaching only, those who practice toto-tjoro Djawa only, and those in between who say Islam is all right but toto-tjoro is also all right. He himself belongs to the first cate gory and asked my forgiveness as he could not reciprocate my gift accord ing to the toto-tjoro way in the future, since it would constitute a violation of the principle of the unity of God. Another example will also indicate his familiarity with the tradi tional Javanese way. In 1971» I contributed a short essay on the history of Kotagede to a local publication. Pak Dja'far again sent me a letter pointing out several factual mistakes contained in my essay by quoting off-hand from various babad (Javanese court chronicles). He has all the major babad stories memorized. Even by Javanese traditional standards. === [PDF page 302] === 278 then, he can be regarded as a well-leamed man of sastra, literati. This he rejects. Already in the days of the Revolution he had ceased to use the title of Raden to which he was entitled. Now he rarely uses his full name (which must include his father's name) which unmistakably reveals his prijaji origin. Instead he prefers to use his given Islamic name exclusively. His life history reveals a constant and conscious effort to discard from his deeds and thoughts what he conceives of an anti-Islamic and non-Islamic elements and to replace these by what he considers 'truly Islamic'. When he talks about the gado-gado situation he is indeed talking about his own past. Apparent arrogance in Pak Dja'far or in other reformist Muslim leaders is actually a reflection of their conviction that they 'understand better' than the rest of the population. This must be related to the fact there is no notion of 'God's chosen ones' in reformist ideology. Ascribed quali ties such as royal descent or genealogical relationship with famous kijaji have no significance. What is valued is the Individual deed accomplished by self-discipline. If one realizes that one is still gado-gado, he him self is responsible for and capable of cleansing (membersihkan) himself. Pak Dja'far projects this notion to the history of Islam in Indonesia. In the same sermon quoted above, he says, "It is true that ummat Islam has never been defeated from the outside but only from within. There is no Aladdin's lamp to help us except ourselves. We must realize that 'half the truth is not the truth* and strive for the realization of Islamic teachings as perfectly as possible." And he quoted the Qur'an, "God changes not what is in a people, until they change what is in themselves" (Qur'an XIII:11, Arberry 1:268). === [PDF page 303] === 279 How to change oneself them? According to Muhammadijah ideology the way is revealed in the Qur'an and exemplified by the deeds and sayings of the Prophet Muhammad; To believe in the truth revealed in the Qur'an and to live in compliance with God's prescriptions. Leaving behind the gadogado half-truth, one has to become a true Muslim in full compliance with God's command. The idea of the 'true Muslim' is then the other theme in Muhammadijah ideology. In speeches and writings, Muhammadijah muballi^ exhort that one must become a 'true Muslim*. In Javanese this is expressed as 'dados tijang Islam éngkang sa-èstu-èstu-nipun', which literally means 'to become (dados) a Muslim (tijang Islam) who is the most real (sa-èstu-èstu-nipun)'. Saestu-estu-nipun is a derivative of estu which means 'real, true, certain, honest, sincere and earnest'. Sometimes sa-estu-estu-nipun is replaced by. or affixed with sampurno which means 'perfect, complete, ideal*. In Indo nesian the phrase is expressed as 'mendjadi orang Islam jang se-benar-benarnja*. Se-benar-benar-nja means 'the truest, most real'. Sometimes this too is replaced by or affixed with se-sungguh-sungguh-nja ('the most earnest, sincere') and/or sempurna ('perfect, complete, ideal'). The current Con stitution (Anggaran Dasar) of Muhammadijah states: "The purpose and intention of the Association (Persjarikatan) is to raise (meneggakkan) and hold high (men'djundjung tinggl) the religion of Islam so that there shall be formed (terwudjud) an Islamic society (masjarakat Islam) which is the most real (jang sebenar-benar-nj a)" (Anggaran Dasar Muhammadij ah I9 6 7:8). To see how the theme of 'true Islam’ is presented to the local audience, I quote from a speech given by a Muhammadijah muballigh (whom I shall call === [PDF page 304] === 280 Pak Asjari) to a Parmusi (Partal Muslimin Indonesia, or Indonesian Muslim Party) campaign meeting held in a Kotagede kampong during the 1971 general election. The meeting was held in the meeting hall of the Musholla (mosque for women) from 8:00 to 11:00 in the evening. The audience was mostly the middle and old-aged, about ninety in total, one third of them male and the rest female. Roughly twenty people were Muhammadijah members and the rest were sympathizers. As in the case of Pak Dja'far, a brief biographic sketch of the speaker, Pak Asjari, will aid in the appreciation of the speech. Pak Asjari was born in 1927 in a rural kampong in the southern part of Kotagede as the son of a well-to-do farmer. He was first educated at the Muhammadi jah elementary school in Kotagede and then entered the H.I.K. Muhammadijah (Hoogere Inlandsche Kweekschool or high school for teachers' training in Dutch, in general subjects) in Jogja. He did not finish the high school but instead went to pondok in Termas, Patjitan, and spent two years there. When the Japanese came he was made a Seinendan leader in his native kampong. During the revolutionary years he was a member of Hisbullah. He married a trader's daughter in Kotagede kota in 19^8 and, with the assistance of his father-in-law, started to make a livelihood in the retail and wholesale trade in umping (fried rice crackers for which production Kotagede was and still is famous) in the central market in Jogja, Bringhardjo. In 1952 he became independent of his father-in-law and has since specialized in the sale of ready-made clothes (for which Kotagede has also been famous since the end of the war) in the market of Pijungan, a town about ten kilometers east of Kotagede. Today he visits the market everyday on his bicycle. He has also been the organizer of a Muhammadijah branch in Pijungan and still === [PDF page 305] === 281 gives regular religious courses there. Since 1966 he has been one of the Muhammadi jah board members in Kotagede in charge of the tabligh (religious propagation) section. Almost everyday, after returning home from Pijungan, he has an engagement to give a religious lecture somewhere in Kotagede or in its nei^borhood. In addition, since I968 he has been the vice chairman of the Rukun Tetangga (Neighborhood Association) of the urban neighborhood in which he and his wife have been living since their marriage. His wife is a graduate of Muhammadij ah 's Muallimat (religious teachers' training school for girls) in Jogja and is an active leader of the Aisjijah (the women's association of Muhammadijah) branch in Kotagede. Their three children were all b o m in the delivery house of Muhammadijah P.K.U. poly clinic in Kotagede and have been educated in the Muhammadijah school system. The eldest is now a student of the National Islamic College in Jogja, the second is at Muallimin in Jogja, and the youngest is still in Muhammadi jah' s elementary school in Kotagede. His wife is also engaged in the trade of ready-made clothes and twice a week travels by bicycle to a market in Wates, the kabupaten (regency) capital of Kulon Progo, about Uo kilo meters southwest of Kotagede. Although it was not a pengadjian (religious lecture meeting) but a political meeting, the format of the meeting exactly paralleled that of a pengadjian: opening with the recitation of the Qur'an by a young Muallimin student from the kampong, speeches by two speakers interrupted by a recess for tea and. snacks, and closing with a question and answer period. Pak Asjari was the first speaker and the second was the secretary for Kotagede of Parmusi (also a clerk of the Silver Industry Cooperative and a board member of Muhammadijah). Pak As jar talked for about forty minutes on what === [PDF page 306] === 282 might be entitled 'The true Muslim's task in the general election'. The content of his talk was mostly religious, and explicitly political arguments were relegated to the second speaker. Compared with the religious lectures in pengadjian or with sermons at Friday prayer meetings which focus on specific topics, the talk Pak Asjari gave to this meeting is an excellent general statement of Muhammadijah tenets. Therefore I shall quote rather extensively from it. He opened his talk with the customary greeting of Muslims, Assalamualaikum waroh matullohi wabarkatuh ( 'May God give you peace and prosperity. His mercy and His blessing!'), and the audience returned the same greeting. Then he quoted the opening surah of the Qur'an, read first in Arabic, fol lowed by a line-by-line translation into Javanese; "In the Name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate Praise belongs to God, the Lord of all Being, the All-Merciful, the All-Compassionate, the Master of the Day of Doom, Thee only we serve, to Thee alone we pray for succour. Guide us in the straight path, the path of those whom Thou has blessed, not of those against whom Thou art wrathful. Nor of those who are astray" (The Qur'an, Arberry 1:29). Pak Asjari chanted, rather than recited the last few verses of the above in Arabic. The chairman of the meeting, a graduate of Muallimin, later mentioned to me that it was the traditional pesantren style of reading the Qur'an. Next Pak Asjari read the Confession of Faith in Arabic followed by its Javanese translation: "I truly believe that there is no god to which I am responsible for praying except Allah who is the === [PDF page 307] === 283 most Glorious, the Only One, the Greatest. And 1 am convinced and I believe that our master the Great Prophet Muhammad is the servant and the messenger of Allah." When the name of Muhammad was mentioned, the audience recited with Pak Asjari the phrase, "May the Lord bless him and give him peace." With this introduction, the atmosphere of the meeting was perfectlyset. Then Pak Asjari said: "Bapak-Bapak (Gentlemen, lit., Fathers) and Ibu-Ibu (Ladies, lit., Mothers), all those who are present here, you and I have all been Muslims since our childhood, since the time of your parents and mine, since the time of your ancestors and mine, so let us face the problem before us tonight, the problem of the general election, which is going to be held on Sabtu Pahing (Saturday, Pahing of the Javanese five-day week) the 3rd of July, 1971, as Muslims following the teachings revealed in nothing other than the Holy Book of the Qur'an." Pak Asjari then asked a question of the audience, "What is the pur pose of our life in this world?", but answered it himself, "Let us look for the answer in the words of Allah in the Qur'an." He cited a verse of the Qur'an, first in Arabic, then in Javanese: "I [ingsun] have not created jinn and mankind except to serve [ngibadah] Me" (The Qur'an LI: 56, Arberry 1956 11:239). Pak Asjari went on to say: "Honorable audience, Allah created us, all of us, as followers (ummat) of Allah, as servants (kawulo) of Allah. What is essential for you and me, for all of us, is that we are commanded by Allah to serve (ngabdi) the Lord Allah (Gusti Allah). What is essential for us is to be ever His faithful servants (kamawulo). Allah commands us to disregard thisworldly things (kadonjan) and to choose acherat (the world of the after-life), to perform good deeds (tumindak sing apik) in this world only in the hope === [PDF page 308] === 28U of reward (gandjaran) in the world of the after-life: these are the ones who shall he favored, by Allah, blessed by Allah." Then Pak Asjari dwelt on the relationship between this world. (donj a) and the world of the after-life (acherat): "You and I, all of us, who are living in this world are certainly going to die; all living people are certain to die. There is nothing living that will not die. Everybody must die. Then what is important is not that we think of 'what is it like to die?' That we do not need to thing about. What we must think about is 'what are we going to take along with us (sangu, provision) to the world, of the after-life when we die. We must seek sangu for death, for the world of the after-life. That sangu is in fact the fear of Lord Allah and many good deeds (amal). Life in this world should be regarded only as a road (margl ) or a market (peken) leading to the world of the after-life on which we purchase necessities for the acherat. We must direct our selves solely towards the acherat: to live in this world is only to seek Allah's reward in the acherat. This world is like a sabin (rice field) or pasiten (earth) into which we plant (menanem) [paddy or fruit tree], and then tomorrow (mbéndjing, tomorrow or at a certain time in the near future ) we shall collect the harvest in the world of the after-life. "What are good deeds (amal) and what are not; what is evil (awon)? What is commanded by Allah is good, and what is prohibited by Him is evil. Let us all endeavor to complete (sampurnaaken) our con duct as Muslims who are the most sincere (sa-estu bstu-nipun ). To become true Muslims, we must ful fill our religious duties (ngibadah) in all aspects of life. When we work (njambut gawé), the way must be as true Muslims. When we are married as husband and wife (bebodjan), the way must be as true Muslims. When we send our children to school, the way must be as true Muslims. "In contrast, there are people who say they are Muslims but their way of life is still that of un believers (kafir). For example, they often like to reduce the contents [of commodities], reduce the weight of a scale, knowingly buy and sell defective things. They say they are Muslims but the way they === [PDF page 309] === 285 behave is not different from that of unbelievers. Tomorrow in the acherat, when we face God, our mouths will be locked; we cannot mouth excuses; only our hands and legs will talk and tell what we have done in this world. "We know that our life here in this world is only to serve (ngibadah) Allah, to become loyal ser vants (kamawulo) of Lord Allah (Gusti Allah). What is meant by ngibadah then? There are three ways to ngibadah. "The first is what is called rukun iman (Pillars of faith), and rukun Islam (Pillars of Muslims). In this, there are two fields (bidang). One is in the field of batos (internal self); the other is the field of lahir (external self). In the field of batos, deep inside our heart (ati), we believe in (pitados) the existence of Allah, in the existence of the angels (malaikat) of Allah, we believe the Book of Allah, the Prophets of Allah, the world of the after-life, the predestination (takdir) by Allah. This we firmly be lieve in our hearts. In the field of lahir we behave (mlampah) as servants of Lord Allah (Gusti Allah); we recite (maos) the Confession of Faith (s.jahadat ), pray (sholat) five times a day, perform fasting, con tribute zakat (religious taxes), and go on pilgrimage (had.1 ) if we can afford it. "The second way to ngibadah is to control (ngempet) our napsu (passions, lowly desires). Napsu induces us to do something evil (awon), likes to divert human beings for wrongdoing. We must control napsu all the time, and that is our ngibadah. "The third way to ngibadah is to live harmoniously (rukun) with our fellow creatures (machluk sesami) in this world. We are not alone here in this world. Let us use our good character (achlak), behave well (tumindak éngkang saé), and follow good manners of social intercourse (toto kromo éngkang saé). To sum up (pokokipun), the one who is called perfect (sampurno) in his services (pangibadahipun) is he who understands the fundamental responsibilities (kawadjiban éngkang baku) towards the Lord God, he who controls his pas sions, and he who develops good character (achlak) and makes it a practice to perform good deeds (amal). It is not yet sufficient (kirang tjekap) if you pray five times a day, go to a religious lecture (pengadji), but at the same time you still remain arrogant (kemaki) toward others, do not respect (ora ngadjenë) your parents, do not keep promises, or continue to be ob stinate and irritate others (ngèjèl Ian mangkelke), do not mingle with neighbors (ora tepung), do not go to help (ora rewang) on social occasions (ewuh), do not visit === [PDF page 310] === 286 others when someone in the family has died, do not go to help when someone is sick. If someone behaves like this, then even though he prays he is not yet a Muslim who is true (saestu); he cannot be called a perfect Muslim (sampurno). Let us not be like that." After presenting this summary statement of Muhammadijah's ideas about the true Muslim, he went on to mention the political responsibility of the true Muslim: since a true Muslim strives to complete his behavior in all aspects of life, politics is no exception. In politics he must support the fighters of Allah, the party of Allah. JAVANESE SPEECH LEVELS Two points about Pak Asjari's speech as an example of Muhammadi jah ideology need to be brought out. The first has to do with the language of this religious communication. The second concerns continuity and change in Javanese Islam and the role of Muhammadijah in it. Earlier I stated that Indonesian has long been used as the official intra-organizational language of Muhammadijah. In contrast, religious com munications between Muhammadijah cadres and their local audiences are al most invariably carried out in Javanese. (Pak Dja'far's Indonesian sermons to Friday prayer meetings are an innovation which has not been followed by other Muhammadijah leaders.) The only times Indonesian is used publicly (i.e., outside Muhammadijah membership meetings) as the official medium of communication are public lectures and entertainment held by Muslim youth organizations. Even on these occasions it is essential to insert proper Javanese expressions from time to time to enliven the atmosphere. Javanese is a language of extreme subtlety, with multiple speech levels. A Javanese speaker cannot make any utterance without linguisti- For the linguistic aspect of Javanese speech levels, see Soepomo (1968) and for its socio-cultural implications, see Geertz (l960:2U8-26o). Accord- === [PDF page 311] === 287 cally differentiating in terms of politeness and formality the relation ship between the speaker and the addressee, and the speaker's relationship to the third person referred to in his utterance. Religious communications in Javanese are no exception. In fact, Javanese speech levels facilitate the differentiation and understanding of such concepts as absolute and Supreme Being, His auxili aries, and human beings, and the letter's relationships with the former two, as well as qualifying the topic and context of speech. For example, Pak Asjari*s speech is basically spoken in Kromo, indicating formal and polite speech between him and the audience and the respectful quality of the sub ject. However, when he refers to Allah and describes His deeds and words, he switches to Kromo Inggil showing the hipest degree of respect. And similarly when he refers to the Prophet Muhammad’s deeds and words in re lation to Allah, Kromo Madyo is used. When Allah speaks to human beings through Muhammad's mouth, the expressions are naturally on the Wgoko level. And when he (Pak Asjari) talks about his own ideas, internal monologues, supposed conversations with his friends, or describes mundane human activi ties, the expressions are made in Ngoko or Madyo. He never addresses directly the audience in Ngoko or Madyo. 3 cont. ing to Soepomo (ibid.), Javanese speech levels are linguistic devices to reflect and differentiate the relationship between the speaker and the ad dressee and the speaker's relationship to the third person referred to by him in terms of the degree of politeness and formality. There are four types of vocabulary levels: (l) Ngoko (non-polite and informal), (2) Madyo (semi-polite and semi-formal), (3) Kromo (polite and formal), and (1) Kromo Inggil ('hi^ Kromo') and Kromo Andap ('humble Kromo'), 'respect vocabulary', and two types of affixes differentiating Ngoko, and Kromo levels, combined to form three basic speech levels, Ngoko, Madyo and Kromo with three sublevels for each of the three (Soepomo ibid.:56-61). A good Javanese speaker must be familiar with the proper use of these speech levels, which form an integral part of Javanese toto tjoro (proper manners and ethics). === [PDF page 312] === 288 Some notable examples: Allah is frequently referred to as Gusti Allah, Lord Allah; Gusti is a Kromo Inggil word only used for a great king or God. And in relation to God, human beings are referred to as kamawulo or kawulo (servant), again Kromo Inggil words used to refer to the first person (singular and plural) in relation to a person of the highest status, a king or God. Kamawulo is the most polite form of kawulo. Whereas when Allah speaks in the first person He refers to Himself as Ingsun (l), a Kromo Inggil word, which is only proper for a great king or God to use. Other wise it would indicate extreme arrogance. Allah commands (dawuh) human beings to serve (ngbadi) Him: dawuh, a Kromo Inggil word, means 'to tell someone to do something', and is only used when a superior being orders an inferior one; and ngabdi, a Kromo Inggil word, refers to an inferior person serving a superior one. Although it has no speech level differentiation, the word pangeran (God, Lord; prince) is used to refer to Allah. Likewise, the prophet Muhammad is referred to as kandjeng Wabi Muhammad kandjeng. His Highness, which is otherwise used to refer or speak to a regent or one of h i ^ nobility. Even reformist Islamic ideas, then, once expressed in Javanese cannot escape being molded by the Javanese language structure: Lord Allah— the highest, mankind— the lowest, and prophets in between. The relationships among these— the absolute authority of Allah, the absolute obedience of mankind to Him, and the prophet's status as delegate of God chosen from mankind— all these are clearly conceptualized and expressed not only by the individual words but also by the connotations of the speech levels them selves. However, what marks the reformist ideas off from traditional Java nese ideas about cosmos and society is, as we shall see below, that there === [PDF page 313] === 269 are shifts of emphasis and alterations of the meanings of these traditional concepts. To illustrate this point the pair of words kawulo and Gusti merit con sideration. This is one of the core concepts derived from traditional Javanese ngelmu (the sacred knowledge) rather than from orthodox Islam. Moertono has produced an elegant, inside-view explication of this concept (Moertono I9 6 8:Chapter II). In traditional Javanese terms, the concept denotes the fundamental order in cosmos and society. Kawulo-gusti (master and servant) is simultaneously the basis of the social order (the ruler and the ruled) and of the cosmic order (God and man). To quote Moertono: "In Javanese mysticism the words djubuhing kawulo-gusti (the merging of servant and master) describe the high est goal of man's life, namely the achievement of ultimate 'oneness' (manunggal) with God. This is the more dramatic since the words kawulo and gusti denote the very lowest and the very highest status of man in society. However, and this is important to our argu ment, unity of servant and master is possible only because there are certain ties between and properties common to man and God" (Moertono 1968:15). Traditional and reformist ideas agree that gusti refers to the highest being and kawulo to the humblest. However, whereas traditional ideas Jux tapose the social and the cosmic order and imply that they are in essence one and the same, reformist ideas exclusively use the concept gusti for Allah and kawulo for mankind. The result of this narrowing-down of meaning is that Allah becomes absolute, and there is nothing else comparable to Him in authority and power. Mankind is His most humble servant. At the same time, 'certain properties common to man and God' are subtly denied. Like wise, in place of the mutual dependency and reciprocity between man and God implied in the traditional ideas, reformist ideas, using the same === [PDF page 314] === 290 terminology, emphasize the asymmetrical relationship of man and God, a relationship of vast distance and total dependency. Man is created hy God only to serve Him. Then the service (ngabdi) a kawulo (servant) does for gusti (God) is linked to the fulfillment of religious duties (ngibadah). (in fact, a Muhammadi jah muballigh explained to me that the Javanese words ngabdi and abdi are actually borrowed words from the Arabic ibadat [ibadah in Javajiized form], and all mean the same thing— 'to serve'.) Instead of the mystic unity of man and God (manunggal) in this world through semedi (meditation), man can expect gandjaran (favor, reward) from God only in the world of the after-life through amal (good deed) in this world. LAHIR VS. BATIH Another example of the reformist use and reworking of Javanese tradi tional ideas is indicated by a pair of concepts, lahir (inner self) and batin (batos in Kromo, outer self). Pak Asjari explains that rukun iman (principal religious duties) are expressed in two ways, lahir and batin. In the internal self one believes in God and His attributes and actions. In the outer self one performs rites which are prescribed by God and exem plified by Muhammad. As we know from Geertz' work, the pair concept, lahir and batin, is a fundamental and all pervasive idiom for Javanese categori zation of one's self (Geertz 1960:238-2^1 and passim). We hear the expres sion of lahir and batin used on numerous occasions in numerous ways. For example, when the month of Puasa is over and Lebaran comes, Javanese greet their parents, relatives, neighbors and bosses, Njuwun pangapunten sedojo kelepatan kulo lahir Ian batos, 'I ask for your forgiveness for my wrong doings in the past year most earnestly, i.e., in my outward behavior as well as in my internal emotion'. School children are taught to love the fatherland wholeheartedly, lahir and batin. This is a most prevalent === [PDF page 315] === 291 notion shared hy all Javanese regardless of their differences in religious and political orientation and commitment. Therefore when Pak Asjari preaches that true Muslims have to serve God lahir and hatin, the point of his idea is well expressed in a Javanese idiom and is perhaps well under stood hy his audience. However, it is interesting to point out that the same notion, lahir and hatin, can he used with different meanings hy individuals of different religious-political orientations. Let me cite an example I recorded in the field: I went to see Pak Mantri Anom [Vice Chief] of the Kemantren (Ward) office of Kotagede. [This was a few months prior to the general election of July, 1 9 7 1.] I talked with him and Pak Sastro [another kemantren official] about the election. I asked if a Golkar (the Government Party) branch had already been formed here and, if so, who were its leaders. Pak Mantri answered that he and several other kemantren officials became its leaders. Then he went on to say, "People say that we, pamong pradj a (local administration officials) are bunglon." Pak Sastro interrupted, "Tuan tahu bunglon itu apa? (Do you know what bunglon is. Sir?)" I said, "No, I don’t." Pak Sastro continued, "It’s a small ani mal like a toke (house lizard) whose skin color changes according to circumstances." "Ah itu, namanj a chameleon kalau bahasa Inggris Toh, that’s it. Its name is chameleon in English)," I said. "Ja, itulah, chameleon (Yes, that’s it, chameleon)," Pak Sastro repeated. Pak Mantri Anom returned to his subject. "People say we are chameleons and change the colors of our skin according to circumstances. Formerly, in the period of Dutch colonial rule we went along with (ikut) the Dutch. Then the Japanese military came, and we went along with Dainippon (the Great Japan). Then in the independence period we went along with R.I. (Republic of Indonesia), and when P.K.I. became powerful we went along with them. Most recently when Pak Harto (President Suharto) replaced Bung Karno (President Sukarno) we went along with Pak Harto. Therefore they say we change the colors of our skin. That is true. The === [PDF page 316] === 292 main point is that we go along with whoever gets power (menguasai) in Djakarta. We can be and we are skillful (pandai) in adjusting ourselves (menjesuaikan dlri) t o current situations and con ditions (situasi dan kondisi sekarang). Because of this, people say we are chameleons, inconsis tent (kurang konsekwen) and don't have principles (pendirian). But in fact we are not like that. We are not oportjunis (opportunists). We have prin ciples. Our principles are to defend the interests of people (membela kepentingan rakjat) in whatever situation. If we don't do so, who else can protect (mendjaga) the people, lead (memimpin) the people? Batinnja (in inner self) we have been continuously consistent. We have been loyal to our role (peranan); that is, to momongan rakjat (to look after, babysit) the people. Lahirnja (outwardly) we change colors, formerly PNI, now Golkar, for example. But our principles have remained the same. Not inconsistent, is it?" The same situation is viewed differently by a santri. Talking about the various tactics used in the election campaign, Pak Dja'far told me: "The most sinful thing is to force people by means of social pressures. If one is jakin (sincerely convinced) to be a Communist, it is all right. If one is jakin to be a Marhaenist (PWI's ideology), it is all right, too. But 'social economic pres sures' (ketekanan sosial ekonomis) like monolojo (the principle of raonoloyality which the government party, Golkar, imposed on all government officials) is wrong. It makes people believe one way in batin (internally) but behave the other way in lahir (out wardly). Discrepancy (kurang setudjunja) between lahir and batin leads to the destruction of morality (achlak). Monolojo abets widespread hypocrisy. That I cannot accept (tidak bisa menerima)." For a 'true Muslim* discrepancy of one's lahir and batin is the most horrible thing. Outer self (lahir) must reflect the inner self (batin) and the two must always agree with each other. Whereas for an abangan, especially for an abangan of prijaji status, the manipulation of lahir is viewed as a measure of self-control and if circumstances force him to adopt === [PDF page 317] === 293 a different lahir, as in the case for pamong pradja cited above, such a smooth compromise is justified in terms of self perseverance of the batin. In contrast to the prijaji emphasis on batin, internal self and its perseverance, reformist Muslims consider lahir, external self, or more precisely, the externalisation of true self, much more important. The role of an organization for religious enlightenment like Muhammadijah is viewed as an aid in getting rid of 'dirt and dust' in the overlayer of our self (batin) which in itself has God-given qualities to comprehend and obey His commands. The organizational activities of Muhammadij ah, especially those providing facilities and opportunities for prayers, education, zakat, etc., are viewed as making it much easier for Muslims to perform religious obligations without outside hindrances. The existence of a langgar near one's home is likely to induce a less devout Muslim to start praying more often and more regularly. A Muhammadijah school in the neighborhood may attract more children of abangan families for the systematic learning of Islamic teachings. A retired Muhammadijah teacher stated that the most important contribution of Muhammadijah education was that it made much easier (mudahkan), more accessible and more comprehensible (lebih mudah untuk memafami) the learning of Islamic teachings for average Muslim chil dren so that their natural belief in God in batin might acquire a definite, refined shape in lahir. The reformists view that almost all Javanese are Muslims in batin but are only prevented from expressing and realizing their belief outwardly. This view is even extended to cover former PEI members and followers. In a self-confident tone a Muhammadi jah leader stated that. === [PDF page 318] === 29h "Almost one half of the total population in Kotagede went along with PKI before 1965. But in fact they were all Muslims and white (putih, the color for Muslims, especially pious Muslims) in batin. They were red only in lahir. Therefore once the outside conditions are improved, and above all once Muham madijah further invigorates its educational activi ties, it is not impossible to hope that most former PKI supporters will become 'true Muslims'." The categorization of self into lahir and batin is also employed by Muhammadijah ideology to induce the performance of good deeds (amal) in lahir in this world to secure gandjaran (reward, pahala in Indonesian) in the world of the after-life. The performance of concrete and visible deeds in this world constitutes the only djaminan (guarantee) of receiving God's reward in the world of the after-life. KASAR VS. ALUS The fact that Muhammadijah ideology is expressed in Javanese with its linguistic implications and cultural idioms but at the same time with subtle alterations in meaning and shifts in emphases to adapt to reformist ideas can further be witnessed by Muhammadijah's frequent use of another pair of Javanese value terms, kasar and alus, applied to the mode of social intercourse. Geertz has given a fine explication of the pair concepts: "Alus means pure, refined, polished, polite, exquisite, ethereal, subtle, civilized, smooth....Kasar is merely the opposite: impolite, rough, un civilized..." (1 9 6 0:2 3 2 ). The point I would add is that, from the reform ist viewpoint, alus-ness is a God-given quality in human beings, and it must be brought forth when human beings interact with each other. Hence, the notion of sasrowungan éngkang saé, 'the harmonious way of social inter course' as the God-commanded way of interpersonal relationships in this world. === [PDF page 319] === 295 Pak Asjari's campaign speech cited above has already touched upon these themes, but as a supplement, I should like to quote from another speech which I recorded in Kotagede. The speech was given by the present national president of Muhammadijah, Pak Hadji A.R. Fachruddin on the occa sion of Sjawalan (a sort of grand 'New Year' get-together meeting) of the Kotagede branch of the organization in November 1971. The meeting was held in the building, still under construction, of a new Muhammadijah junior high school (wakaf of Professor Hadji Rasjidi) and was attended by about 800 people, about 80% of the Muhammadijah membership in the town. About 60% of the audience was women who occupied the front half of the hall, and the rest, men, occupied the back half of the hall; both groups sat on mats spread on the earthen ground. The Sjawalan meeting (from the name Sjawal, the month following the fasting month) or Halal-bihalal (lit., a meeting for mutual forgiveness) is held for the entire Muhammadi jah membership and takes place a few days after the end of the fasting month in the beginning of the month of Sjawal. The meeting which I at tended was of especial importance because the decisions of the Muhammadi jah national congress held in Makassar in September 1971 were for the first time presented to the local rank and file. Among other things, the con gress decided that Muhammadi jah should sever organizational ties with Parmusi (Partai Muslimin Indonesia) and return to concentrate its activi ties exclusively on the non-political, religious sphere. Pak A.B., as Muhammadijah members affectionately call him, the ninth and present top leader of Muhammadijah, is originally from an ulama family in Kulon Progo, Jogjakarta. Like many other of his colleagues in the na tional leadership of Muhammadijah, he is another example of a reformist === [PDF page 320] === 296 ulama with a traditional background. His big round face and rather fat body remind one of Semar, the comic figure in the Javanese wajang shadowplay. In keeping with his appearance he has a real talent for dagelan, the comical improvised conversations carried out by punakawan (clowns) figures in ketoprak (village drama). (For Semar and punakawan, cf. Ander son 1965:2-22.) A dagelan player must have above all an immense skill in manipulating the complexity of Javanese, skillfully jumping from high to low speech levels, mimicking every type of Javanese speaker, deliberately twisting and misusing proper speech etiquette, invoking a stormy uproar of laughter from the audience while maintaining a sober face with utmost selfcontrol. Pak A.R. is equipped with that kind of ability. Just as Pak Asjari emphasized toto kromo éngkang saé (good forms of social intercourse), so also Pak A.R. dwelt at length on the importance of sasrowungan éngkang saé (refined manners of mutual social interaction) em phasizing that fulfillment of rukun Islam is not enough: what is important is to better one's character (achlak in Arabic, budi pekerti in Javanese) so that one can become a more perfect Muslim. Muhammadijah members must know how to behave well in social intercourse with others who are all fellow creatures of Lord Allah. The passage from Pak A.R.'s speech which follows is of interest both for the content of his ideas on the subject Interestingly enough, in spite of reformist Muslims' distance from wajang ("it's enough for you to see it once in your life time. Otherwise it's a waste of time") and explicit rejection of ketoprak ("It encourages hawa nafsu (lustful) amorality, a source of moral degeneration for young people"), the genre of dagelan retains a place in the otherwise limited repertories of reformist cultural/entertainment activities. Together with 'modern' popular songs, krontjong (half-traditional popular songs) and orkes melaju ('Malay band'), dagelan forms a part of every Muhammadijah youth program in Kotagede. I failed to solicit Muhammadijah explanations for why dagelan is acceptable. Perhaps it is justified in that it develops sensitivity and skill in the art of speech. === [PDF page 321] === 297 and the manner in which they are expressed. After a Qur'anic verse admon ishing the cultivation of a good character (achlak) was quoted in Arabic and interpreted in Low Javanese, he went on as follows: "There are many ways which good character [of person] takes form. If not in speeches, then in the ways a person gets along with others. If a person's character is good, then the ways he gets along with others must be good, too. "For example, when we see each other, we cer tainly greet each other. You and I are all Muham madijah people, and thus we already know the way Muslims greet as exemplified by the Prophet, 'Assalamualaikum' (May God give you peace). But when you greet a friend (sedulur) who is not Islamic yet (dui'ung Islam), then you of course do not need to greet him with 'Assalamualaikum'. You just greet him in the Javanese way (tjoro Djawi) only. [imi tating a woman's voice in Kromo, high Javanese.] "'Where are you going. Madam?' (Bade tindak dateng pundi, Bu? [A common polite greeting.]) "This is already a greeting. "'Well, just to market.' "And then later, when you see her returning, you greet again, "'Going home, Madam? * "'Yes, going home now.' "You see, this is already a good greeting. This is a substitute greeting for those who do not yet understand (dereng mangertos). Don't say to yourself, [in Ngoko] 'Alas, this one doesn't under stand yet, not yet a santriI Can't even say "This is not achlak. (Light laughter) [Imi tating a tone of utmost disgust.] 'Yeh, she must be a G-30-S (Communist rebel)!' (Explosion of laughter) Having been greeted, just to keep silent and to think that way, that is wrong; it's not a proper way. Ingglh (Yes)? (The chorus of ye-e-s from the audience.) "So you and I, we all must be able to get along well with others (srawungan sing apek): when you meet a person, you just smile; jusp question (takon). You must know the question is === [PDF page 322] === 298 just etiquette (toto kromo) and you don't actually need to know something [expect an answer]; [in woman's voice in Kromo] " 'Where are you going. Madam?' "'Just to the market.' "'What are you going to get?' "'What kind of rice. Madam?’ (Laughter) "'What price of rice. Madam?' (Louder laughter) "Just to keep on asking like this is not a greeting. If you do so, the one who is being questioned will be annoyed in the heart (mangkel ati). If [you] meet [a person] and question like what Pak A.R. [l] has done right now, then [the person] will try to avoid seeing you again so as not to be questioned about this and that. That is not the way to get along well with others but just to annoy others; it means you do not know the proper way yet. "So, to get along well with your neighbor, the way must be proper. When the neighbor just drops in to chat with you (omong-omongan), just welcome him and chat. If he doesn't pray yet, that's all right. You should not make a fool of him (otjo olok-olok). You should not tease him irritatingly (otjo ng^jé-ét jé ). If he falls sick, then just go and see (tuwèni); if in need, go and help, if down with a cold, go and give a coin-massage (keroki). Well it is up to you how you actually do your help. But that is what is called sasrowungan éngkang saé (harmonious way of social intercourse). Aisjijah people, Muhammadijah people must be able to do this. Please do not say, '... but my neighbor just doesn't pray yet.' And when asked about your neighbor, you say, 'Ah, that neighbor of mine? Don't worry about him. He doesn't pray yet.' And if you hear he is sick, 'Let's not worry about him. ' 'Dead? All right, let's not worry.' (Laughter) This means that you just cannot get along well with others (ora iso srowung). All Muhammadij ah people, ladies and gentlemen, must be able to behave properly with others, talk with others in a refined manner (alus). For if a person speaks in a way to annoy others, then the other side also talks back in a harsh manner. === [PDF page 323] === 2 99 "’Where are you going. Sister (mBakju)? * [In Kromo but in a fast and blunt tone of Ngoko] "'We (%- God)! How come you keep asking that way (kok taken-taken)?' (Uproar of laughter) "0 my dear! Just to ask (greet) in such a way! This is what is called hurting each other's hearts. So Muhammadijah people, Aisjijah people, let us avoid being like that as much as possible, inggih? "'Inggih* (the audience responded loudly)." It is obvious from the above quotation that Muhammadijah shares Java nese basic ethical values on harmonious social intercourse with the rest of the population. In fact, several lines of Pak A.R.'s speech make even per fect parallels with statements which Geertz regarded as prijaji ethics (1 9 6 O: Chapter IT). Sometimes Pak A.R., a representative santri, and Geertz' teachers of prijaji mysticism even employ exactly the same expressions and metaphors (for example, see ibid.:2^2). However, the two differ radically when it comes to the source of 'truth' for these ethical teachings. For Geertz' teachers of mysticism, the harmonious state itself has an intrinsic value. For Pak A.R., human beings must live together harmoniously because God commands so. What Pak A.R. is endeavoring in his speech is to give new interpretations to Javanese traditional ethical themes which are already familiar to most of the people. He is trying to make his Javanese audience realize that these al ready familiar themes in fact have much deeper religious significances than as common sensical wisdom. Ethics are God’s commands for mankind. Harmon ious social intercourse does not have any intrinsic value save that it is God's command and to obey the command is to serve God. HAWA NAFSU VS. ICHLAS Reformist ideas regard human nature as consisting of mutually antagon istic elements, hawa nafsu and nafsu mudmainah. Both are God-given. The === [PDF page 324] === 300 concept of hawa nafsu seems to have been incorporated into the traditional Javanese idea for a long time, probably since the time of the early Islamization of Java. As a result, hawa nafsu has acquired an extremely broad spectrum of meanings. Nafsu, an Arabic word in origin, means in contem porary Javanese (l) 'passion', (2) 'lust' or 'desire', and (3) 'anger'. Nafsu is also often pronounced napsu or nepsu since the sound of 'f ' is not an indigenous Javanese phoneme. Moreover, it has even been 'corrupted' into nesu, whose primary meaning is 'anger'. A similar-sounding word, nafas (napas) probably of Malay origin, has come to be used as a synonym of nafsu, adding the meanings of (*:) 'breath' and 'breathing', and (5) 'soul' into the spectrum of meanings of nafsu/nafas.^ Perhaps here again the working of Javanese folk etymology, kerata-basa, has been responsible for the blending of these words and meanings. Geertz has observed that in some mystical sects breath and the tech nique to regulate breathing occupy a place of central importance (Geertz 1 9 6 0:317 - 3 1 7 ). Breath is regarded as the essence of life and its conscious regulation by meditation constitutes the elementary step toward mystical attainment. Indeed, the equation of life and breath is commonly held by Javanese, and it is not restricted to any mystical sects. The more 'Java nese' aspect comes in when the physiological mode of breathing is linked with particular psychological states like anger and passionate desire. Then the control of disturbed feeling/emotion is achieved throu^ the con trol of breathing. ^For dictionary definitions of nafsu, nafas, etc., and the following hawa, see Pigeaud (1938) and Echols and Hasan (I96 I). Further etymological ex planations have been taken from the speech of Pak A.R. Fachruddin and Kotagede informants. === [PDF page 325] === 301 As with the cases of the pair concepts of lahir/hatin and alus/kasar mentioned above, nafsu taken into the reformist terminology emphasizes exclusively one aspect of the meanings of the term, 'desire'. Hawa in Arabic and hawa (howo in Javanese) are perhaps accidentally homologous. In Arabic hawa means (l) 'to descend’ and 'to be low in morality', and (2 ) Eva, the first human female. I do not know if there is any significant linkage between the two meanings (hawa, the first human being descended to earth?). In Javanese, hawa means (3) 'air', (U) 'climate', and (5) 'weather' In reformist terminology, when hawa and nafsu are taken together, they come to mean 'desire to do something low in morality'. Pak A.R. elsewhere in the speech quoted above states: "The month of Puasa is over. But we must keep trying energetically to add up our devotion to God (takwa). We must, with increased earnestness, continue to work for the fulfillment of God's commands and try to keep ourselves away from His prohibitions. We must not be completely dominated by hawa nafsu which is always the nest for Satan. "Ladies and gentlemen. We are all given hawa nafsu by God. We are given nafsu (desire) which can hawa (descend). Hawa in Arabic means 'to descend, to go down' (mandap, andjerok in Javanese). [Hawa nafsu is] the desire which can [make us] behave rudely (tumindak éngkang saged asor), look sourly (njlekutis), beggarly (ndermis) or in other ways that are intrac table (mbeler)." Pak A.R. mentions, as examples of hawa nafsu, telling lies and being dis honest, especially in trade, buying lottery tickets, and being covetous about neighbors (for better eating, better clothing). He summates that all these are caused by the work of hawa nafsu. Pak A.R. goes on to say; "We must all be able to control (ngentjengi, lit., tighten, not to let loose) our hawa nafsu. Fortu nately we are also equipped with another God-given === [PDF page 326] === 302 element, nafsu mudmainah, a nafsu which can [make us] do good deeds. This is taufik (God's help). For example, when you are invited to attend a reli gious lecture (ngadji) and when you feel you'd like to go along willingly, that is [the work of] nafsu mudmainah, the desire for good deeds. Then whiJ.e listening to a religious lecture, you keep listening willingly, keep concentrating your attention on the lecture without falling asleep (laughter), then that is [the work] of nafsu mudmainah.” Hawa nafsu, if unrestrained, will lead man astray from the way pre scribed by God. However, hawa nafsu is a God-given element in human nature and man is incapable of eradicating it completely. It is the desire for this-worldly satisfaction; the desire for tasty food, sexual gratification, pretty clothing, money, status, prestige and power. There is nobody who is totally lacking in hawa nafsu. However, the critical point of differ ence between being 'true Muslims' and being less so is that the former know how tocontrol hawa nafsu and do not go to excess in satisfyingthose de sires; a minimal amount of food to maintain healthy body, a limited number of sexual partners to satisfy sexual desire and to procreate, a decent income to be properly clothed and to have a safe shelter— that is enough. Excesses are sinful and the work of unrestrained hawa nafsu. In order further to illustrate Muhammadijah 's ideas about hawa nafsu, it may be helpful to make a brief digression into ketoprak, popular drama, which is regarded by Muhammadi jah as the expression of unrestrained hawa nafsu. Ketoprak is a south Central Javanese counterpart of ludruk, the 'proletarian drama' of East Java studied by James Peacock (1 9 6 8 ). In south Central Java ketoprak is extremely popular among the lower class masses in the regional and local urban centers and also to some extent in the rural areas. Wajang kulit, the puppet shadow-play, and ketoprak contrast sharply. === [PDF page 327] === 303 each representing an extreme end of the Javanese ethical and aesthetic value scale of alus (refined) and kasar (crude). The world of the wajang, stories of which are Javanese adaptations of Indie epics, is characterized hy stylized politeness, elegance and refinement, with the emphasis on order, harmony, mystical oneness and the interdependence of all beings in the universe and their predestined roles in it. The dalang. who narrates the story moves all the puppets and directs the gamelan orchestra through the entire overnight show, displays the utmost power of self-control and per severance. Wajang is essentially an alus art-entertainment encompassing both prijaji and wong tjilik. In contrast, ketoprak is an art-entertainment of, for and by wong tjilik. It has never reached the kraton, or court, circles. The world of ketoprak is that of wildness and disorder, the world of edan-edanan (fool and madness) to use the local expression. The basic tone is seriocomic, and.clown figures play much more dominant roles than in the case of wajang. Most ketoprak stories are taken from folk versions of historical events. (Out of the seven shows I saw in Kotagede, two stories were taken from the Modjopahit period, three from Later Mataram, one from Imperial China and one apparently from Mughal India.) The stories are mostly about bitter struggles over such this-worldly desiderata as women, kingships or other power positions, territories, treasures, and magical objects. The ways through which those spoils are acquired are also thisworldly: rapes, abductions, conspiracies, betrayals, assissinations, sorceries, massacres, etc. The language used includes the most kasar ex pressions in Ngoko deso, village Ngoko; filthy words and swear words are freely used. The players (consisting of both sexes playing 'natural' === [PDF page 328] === 30U roles (i.e., transvestites are rare) also act out scenes of wildness in extremely exaggerated ways which are not allowed in the context of everyday public life. For example, physical contact between males and females, direct expressions of bliss, lust, anxiety, fear, disgust, anger, hatred, sorrow are freely and exaggeratedly shown. The audience also responds directly and wildly to what is transpiring on the stage. Even the seating pattern of the audience in a ketoprak theater is a 'deviation' from Javanese norms and everyday practice. Young men and women of the late teens and twenties constitute the core of the audience, along with their younger brothers and sisters; older people are rare. The audience seating dis regards sex and age categorizations which in the rest of life are decisively important. The audience jeers, booes, yells, shouts, laughs, weeps, ap plauds unrestrainedly. Prostitutes are seen in and out of the theater. Around the theater snack waning (stalls) and small food venders are clustered. Various types of gambling— roulette being most popular— are also going on around the theater. Backstage, it is said that ketoprak troupe members often engage in promiscuous relations, both heterosexual and homosexual, take indigenous narcotics and alcohol.^ Ketoprak deserves a thorough study of its own which I was not prepared to do in the field. I casually attended ketoprak shows sometimes by invita tion from the sponsors and at other times just for my own amusement. From the time I decided to concentrate on Muhammadijah, I deliberately kept my self away from ketoprak so as not to invite rebuke from pious Muslims. So my observations and remarks on ketoprak are incomplete and heavily biased by santri opinion. Ketoprak is an abangan art-entertainment par excellence. When PKI domi nated the local social and cultural scene, the party's cultural front or ganization Lekra (Lembaga Kebudajaan Rakjat, or League of People's Culture) was one of the major sponsors of ketoprak shows, Djaman PKI, or the Com munist Period, of I9 6 O-I965 is remembered as djaman ketoprak or the keto prak period. As a result of the banning of PKI and its mass organizations including Lakra after 1 9 6 5, ketoprak suffered a setback. Many Lekra- === [PDF page 329] === 305 Despite the fact that most ketoprak plays end happily (the good heroprince finally gets the kingship after destroying its usurpers, the honest lovers finally get married and live happily ever after, etc.), the kind of 6 cont. affiliated ketoprak players were put in jail, and the emphasis on Islamic morality prevalent during the early years of the Suliarto government created an unfavorable atmosphere for ketoprak for sometime. According to local informants ketoprak shows were rarely held in Kotagede between 1966 and 1 9 6 9. But with the coming of the 1971 general election, Golkar, the govern ment party, and other government agencies deliberately started to utilize various abangan forms of art and entertainment for campaign purposes. Many ex-Lekra ketoprak players who had been released from jail were immediately organized into Golkar or government-sponsored troupes, and the election campaign period of April-June 1971 signaled the revival of ketoprak in Kotagede as elsewhere in south Central Java. While I was in the field (1970-1972), ketoprak shows were being held frequently. Ketoprak was often included in the entertainment celebrating national holidays such as Independence Day, Armed Forces Day, and Youth Day. Also it accompanied such official ceremony as the reconstruction of the market. In these cases, the local government sponsored the show and entrance was free (those who received invitations occupied the reserved seats). More frequently, however, shows were commercially run by local semi-professional troupes (there were about a dozen professional players in Kotagede who were making a living solely by playing ketoprak in Jogja and its vicinity.) Government agencies sometimes also hired troupes to get profits from entrance fees. For example, a week-long show (with two dif ference plays, each extending over three and four nights respectively) was sponsored by a Bukun Kampong (Neighborhood Association) with the officially proclaimed purpose of getting funds to build the office building of the Association. On another occasion, Tritunggal (lit., 'three-in-one', a generic term for the combined local government authorities of civil, military and police offices) sponsored a long series of show in a hastily constructed 'theater' of bamboo poles and plaited bamboo walls: many troupes including those from outside Kotagede took part. The long-running show was, according to the Tritunggal spokesman, to collect enough funds to construct a building for the local military office and to finance the 'development programs' of the Young Farmers Association. I asked the spokesman, who was a police 'social relations' officer, how much net income was expected to be obtained and how long the series was going to last. To the second question he replied, "until the people's money is exhausted (habis-habisan)." Actually the show lasted for four weeks, and indeed the major reason why the show closed seemed to have been that all casual and habitual ke’ toprak-goers in Kotagede had exhausted their money and appetite for ketoprak at least for the time being. As to the first question, the spokesman's reply was vague but I figured out that about 100,000 rupiahs were intended for the construction of the military office alone. The 'theater' had a capacity of about 500 seats and almost every night it was full. The entrance fees were 15, 25 and 50 rupiahs, and 25-rupiah seats occupied the largest part of the theater. === [PDF page 330] === 306 emotional experience the audience undergoes seems quite different from its wajang counterpart. At the end of a wajang show, accompanied as it is with the dim lights of the morning sun and cool fresh air, the audience feels a kind of catharsis; the self cleansed through an alus experience. At the end of a ketoprak show (which ends around midnight usually), however, after hours of emotional ups and downs, shouting at top voice and hilarious lauding, one feels physical exhaustion and an as yet unsettled sense of excitement. A Muhammadijah elder, noticing that I had been to ketoprak shows, once asked me how I felt when the show was over. Without awaiting my answer he said; "You must have felt exhausted (pajah), and lazy (malas) but not so much satisfied yet (kurang puas). Your body felt hot (panas) and trembling (gemetar), and you felt thirsty (haus) for anything [implying, as I understood it, 'thirst' for food, drinks and sex]. That's the way ketoprak is." 1 confessed that it was exactly the way I felt when the show was over. The informant continued; "You see that's the work of hawa nafsu. The deter mination (ketekanan, lit., pressure) to work hard is impaired (dilemahkan) and hawa nafsu is set free (dilepaskan). You want to do whatever you like (semaunja sadja) without thinking what is good and what is bad. That is the reason why ketoprak is so dangerous (bahaja) for the personality of young people (dj iwa muda mudi)...." The revival of ketoprak and other forms of abanganism (including lot teries and gambling) through official encouragement or tolerance by the government authorities has been received by Muhammadijah activists with dismay, and partly as a result has caused them to take a rather sober view === [PDF page 331] === 307 of the New Order regime. The above quoted Muhammadijah elder and some other members pointed out to me that during the four-week marathon show of ketoprak, petty thefts occurred frequently in the neighborhood around the ketoprak theater. (This was confirmed by the 'social relations' po lice officer.) During this period there were an unprecedented twenty-two reported cases of thefts including one in which 20,000 rupiahs in cash for the monthly salaries of the local religious affairs office (KUA) were stolen from the office's safe. Although it was of course difficult to verify the Muhammadijah allegation that ketoprak was chiefly responsible for the ac tual occurrence of crime, it was undeniable that from the time of the general election semi-professional criminals who were generally called pendjahat came under the patronage of the local authorities; some of them were given positions in local self-defense corps (militia) and some others were officially enlisted in the committees which ran the notorious four-week ketoprak show. Horse racing (where official and unofficial gambling was allowed) was also held a few months before the ketoprak show. This was to get funds for 'repair of the police office building'. In l i ^ t of what I have described above, it is interesting to note that Muhammadi jah's hostility toward PKI was viewed by its members not so much in terms of the letter's political and economic programs (e.g., land reform) nor its philosophical standpoint (historical materialism, atheism) but rather on the moral grounds that PKI encouraged the release of hawa nafsu. I asked Pak Marto (an old guard Muhammadijah who experienced the historic 'clash' with PKI in 1924) why PKI was able to build up such a large following after the War. His explanation was: === [PDF page 332] === 308 "PKI people were clever in deceiving people (pintar menipu). They promised this and that although the promises were empty (djandji kosong). In essence, PKI promised that if it gets power people can get anything they want (semaunja sadja). PKI did not attack religion (Islam) directly. They only said, 'when stomachs are empty, what is the use of prayer (kalau perutnja kosong, apa gunanja sholat)? If PKI gets power, just ask for anything (minta apa-apa sadja). Every demand will he met (food, clothes, house, land, etc.).' It was a lie. Nothing is achieved only by asking. We have to work hard to get something. Empty promises only make people lazy and let hawa nafsu free (membiarkan)." Being part of human nature, man cannot get rid of hawa nafsu. But man must and can control it by conscious effort. The unrestrained expres sions of hawa nafsu advocated by PKI will lead to anarchy and tyranny and are sinful acts which stray from God's command: Muhammadijah reasons this way and takes the stand of moral opposition to PKI as well as to any other groups which it regards as encouraging the release of hawa nafsu. I want now to discuss the notion of ichlas in Muhammadijah ideology. The nation of ichlas is in fact not a monopoly of Muhammadijah. It is again an extremely pervasive value notion among Javanese. Muhammadijah has taken up this notion and worked it. The result is the addition of avery powerful conceptual weapon in the hands of Muhammadi jah for linking tradi tional and reformist ideas. Clifford Geertz has provided us with a defini tion of ichlas as the "state of willed affectlessness" (Geertz 1960:73). He goes on to explain that ichlas means: "...detachment from contingencies of the external world so as not to be disturbed when things go awry in it or if something unexpected occurs. It is 'not caring’ on the premise that if one does not care about worldly things they cannot hurt or upset one" (ibid.:240-241). === [PDF page 333] === 309 I think his explanation is too psycho-philosophical whereas the notion of ichlas is, as I see it, basically religio-ethical. It is no wonder that perhaps because of his psycho-philosophical bias he has failed to point out the fact that a short chapter (surah) in the Qur'an, entitled 'Ichlas', is one of the few chapters that even an extremely unsophisticated abangan is likely to have heard frequently or even learned by rote after the Confession of Faith from a village Qur'anic teacher. In order to support my points I want to quote from statements of Mu hammadi jah activists who are already familiar to us: Pak Dja'far, Pak Asjari and Pak A.R. Fachruddin. The core of the Muhammadi jah notion of ichlas takes its model from the deed of Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham) whom God ordered to sacrifice his beloved son Ismail. It emphasizes sacrifice as a deed of complete faithful ness to God and as means to glorify Him. (in the Qur'anic tradition not Isaac but his older brother Ismail was ordered sacrificed.) The theme of sacrifice is most explicitly expressed on the occasion of Hari Raya Idul Adha (Hari Korban), or the Day of Sacrifice, when sholat ied or public prayer is held and after which cattle (buffaloes, cows and goats) are slaughtered and their meat is distributed to the poor and needy The title of the chapter is translated as 'Sincere Devotion' in Arberry (1955). In spite of the fact that Geertz has more recently come to empha size the 'scripturalist' aspect of reformist movement (1 9 6 8 ), there was little indication in his initial monograph on the Javanese religious life (i9 6 0 ) that he had paid any attention to the literary religious tradition in Java including the Scriptures. Drewes has remarked, I suspect, with a bit of indignation about the fact that the Dutch pre-war scholarship on Javanese religion was totally ignored by Geertz in his earlier writings, "the Javanese emerge from his [Geertz'] description as an almost illiter ate people" (Drewes 1968a:211, n.2). I cannot disagree with Drewes. === [PDF page 334] === 310 (fakir miskin). I quote from Pak Dja'far's chotbah (sermon) to a Friday prayer meeting which was held a few days prior to the Day of Sacrifice in April 1 9 6 5; "On the Day of Sacrifice (Hari Korban) the entire Muslim community (ummat Islam) over the world will be getting together in public prayer meetings (sholat ied) to praise the name of Allah and with the intention of slau^tering korban (sacrificial animals) to fulfill and to carry out the command of Allah. Korban in the form of slaughtering cattle is to commemorate the sacrifice of the Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham) who with sincere devotion (ichlas) sacrificed the feeling of affection (rasa tjinta kasih) as father to son, sacrificed to elim inate human feelings (rasa perikemanusiaan). The required sacrifice was quite unusual to comply with for any human being of noble character (budi luhur) like him. Hari Korban is also to commemorate the devotion (keichlasan) held in the heart of Ismail, his son, who was ready to sacrifice his life, to die entirely filled with the conviction in the truth that his father Ibrahim had received the divine revelation from Allah. The Prophet Ismail, who was still so young to face this God's trial (u,)ian Tuhan), stood death, unmovedly (ichlas), to be cut apart by his father's knife whose edge was very sharp." Pak Dja'far goes on to say that since the days of Ibrahim and Ismail the believers of Allah followed the model exemplified by them in order to glorify the religion of Allah. He cites heroes and heroic deeds which con tributed to the victory of Islam in early Islamic history. Then he views m o d e m Indonesian history from the same viewpoint and states that in the history of Indonesia, both before and after Independence, Muslims sacri ficed themselves for the victory of Islam and the Indonesian nation: "Their sacrifices (pengorbanan) took various forms— thinkings and ideas (fikiranT, energies (tenaga), wealth and property (harta benda), and even blood (darah), soul (djiwa) and body (raga). Burned with the fighting spirit of Islam (semangat api Islam) === [PDF page 335] === 311 the Indonesian Muslims made wholehearted selfsacrifices (pengorbanan ichlas) for the nation and revolution. The victory of Islam [in its early Golden Age] w;as not possible through mere meditation (tafakur) or the repetition of rosary counting (menghitung menghitung tasbih). It wan achieved only through concrete deeds of selfsacrifice. So was the independence of Indonesia." Then he quotes from the Qur'an and urges the audience to examine themselves to see if their deeds are up to the standard set by Allah: "The believers are those who believe in God and his Messenger, then have not doubted, and have struggled with their possessions and their selves in the way of God: those— they are the truthful ones" (The Qur'an XLIX:15, Arberry 1955 11:32. Pak Dja'far asks: "Have we really believed in God without doubts, without hesitation (tidak plintat-plintut), without inconsistency? Have we really struggled (djihad, lit., 'Holy War') for the interest of Islam?" In more specific terms, he continues, "Have you already counted and made note of what percent of your total wealth and income should be used for donations (amal) to Muhammadijah schools, hospitals, libraries, etc.? Have you even come to the point that you feel so devoted to the defense of Islam that you forget about your own personal interest and your family's?" Here we can see how ichlas has come to provide a basis for the social activism (cf. Chapter III above) of the Muhammadijah movement. Not a resig nation from this world or a psychological defense to avoid unexpected emo tional disturbances, ichlas in Muhammadijah ideology has been generalized to mean positive, willing abandonment of this-worldly concerns in the form of concrete deeds. In order to express the belief that this-worldly === [PDF page 336] === 312 possessions do not have significance of their own hut are only significant as God's creation and as material to glorify God, Muhammadi jah urges that actual deeds of negation of this-worldly concerns must be done in tangible and positive ways: surrendering of properties and human energies for the interest of Islam. The often-heard 'shorthand' characterization of Muham madi jah as a 'religious, social and educational organization' is less in formative in the light of the foregoing. Instead of arranging the religious, social and educational on the same plane, we must see that the first, the religious, is the sine qua non of the movement, and the latter two are the outward expressions and realizations of religion and are properly under stood only when explained in terms of it, Ichlas might have been the watchword for self-resignation and non involvement in traditional ideas as Geertz suggests. But it is undoubted that the notion has thus been transformed into a battle-cry for active social concern and. involvement by Muhammadi jah. It is indeed shouted out. For example, Pak A.R. in the same address cited earlier appealed to the audience: "I heard earlier that this building [for a Muhammadijah junior high] needs some 800,000 rupiahs more to bring it to completion. IchlasI Ladies and gentlemen, I urge your contributions for its completion." In the Muhammadij ah terminology ichlas is also applied to political activities. Pak Asjari, in the campaign speech quoted above, used the term in the political context. His general terminology exemplified a measure of continuity Muhammadijah retains vis-a-vis traditional ideas. Pak Asjari said: "The coming general election is a trial (udjian) for us. We are going to be tested to see whether or not we are true Muslims (tijang Islam éngang saestu). Today you say you are a Muslim but tomorrow you may === [PDF page 337] === 3 13 say you are forced (dipekso-pekso) by someone [to vote for a non-Islamic party]. But it cannot be a good excuse. Even if forced, it is only before entering the voting booth (bilik), isn't it? Once you are in the bilik, there will be nobody else watching over you except Lord Allah. So whether or not you vote for a party of Lord Allah (golongan Gusti Allah) is entirely up to you. It is your own and my own responsibility....In the bilik you do not have to be bingung (confused, lost). For if you and I, all of us, keep firmly in mind the command of Lord Allah, we will not be confused. Once there is established in our hearts a deep wish (hasrat) that we support the party of Lord Allah, nothing can confuse us and we will be safe (slamat)....Once in the bilik, we face Lord Allah alone. Then we must forget all this-worldly concerns (kadonjaan). Forget the intimidations (intimidasi) you have suffered before, and ichlas! Reciting Bismillah ('in the name of Allah'), vote for the party of Lord Allah. Ichlas! Because we do so not because of our selfish desire (pamrih) but because of our genuine willingness to fulfill Lord Allah's command. That will become your good deed (amal) which later you can take along as provision (sangu) to the world of the after-life (achérat)...." It is obvious from the foregoing description that Muhammadijah ideo logy is essentially an ethical teaching, a doctrine for individual conduct based on Islam. It focuses on the individual and urges him to conform to its admonitions. Being an ethical theory for individuals, Muhammadijah ideology lacks specific programs for social reform or political strategies to achieve them. Instead the image of the ideal society for Muhammadijah is a society in which every man becomes a true Muslim and behaves as such. And the means to attain this society is, tautologically, that every man becomes a true Muslim! In the thinking of Muhammadi jah sociology (or perhaps more correctly, in the absence of sociological thinking in the sense of the Western tradition of social thought), society is no more and no less than the aggregate of individuals. The totality of individuals === [PDF page 338] === 3 14 does not acuiqre a quality which surpasses the sum total of individuals. The reason we find repeated emphasis on achlak (good character, personal ity which behaves properly) in Muhammadi jah literature and verbal communi cations can only be explained in the light of the above reasoning. To conclude this chapter, it is appropriate to sum up the Muhammadijah ideology in terms of its ideal personality type. The Muhammadijah's ideal person is a true believer in God who never ceases to le a m directly from the Holy Scriptures, who faithfully performs rukun Islam, who is indepen dent and willing to assume responsibility for his own deeds, who lives a simple economic life and donates all surplus for religious causes, who is anti-traditional and egalitarian in outlook but yet prepared to humble himself, who can and prefers to speak polite language and behave harmon iously with others, who is honest and willing to help others, who is capable of controlling selfish desire and avoiding instinctual behavior, and who is ready to sacrifice himself for the interest of Islam and the community of the believers (cf. "Achlaq", in Almanak Muhammadijah 1 9 6 O/6 I: 114-123). As a nomenclature of virtues, the above list may not be much different from any other ethical teachings. The crucial point is then how the real ity approximates to the norms, the degree of religious intensity and the extent of religious commitment. And in that matter, Muhammadijah members seem to score very high. Many, if not most, of Muhammadijah members I came to be acquainted with in the field indeed conformed to the ideal per sonality type. Of course, this is an extremely subjective judgment and it is difficult to verify my statement by quantified or any other 'objective' means. I can only say that my assessment is based on my personal experi === [PDF page 339] === 315 ence among Japanese Christian circles and my limited exposure to the reli gious life in the United States. At least this much I can say; for the first time in my life I felt I was able to see in Kotagede what a religious man looked like and what religiosity meant. Personal confessions aside, another interesting observation on Muham madi jah personality is that it coincides in many respects with the Javanese traditional ideal of satrya, or knighthood. For example, Pak Marto stated to me that he respects Sultan Hamen^ubuwono IX, the current Vice Presi dent of the Republic, not because he is a hereditary sultan but because he is a good Muslim and a genuine satrya. Here arises a peculiar paradox that an ideal Muslim is an ideal Javanese. However, this paradox is appar ent only for those who think Islam and Javanese-ness are mutually exclusive and antagonistic. For Muhammadijah members themselves, who are born in the Javanese world and who strive to approach to what they conceive of as the purer Islamic essence in the tradition, being a good Javanese and being a good Muslim mean no different thing. Interestingly enough, from the viewpoint of abangan, too, Muhammadijahtype santri is regarded as peculiarly Javanese. To an abangan a devout and socially active santri who is actually fulfilling the Islamic obligations, which the abangan knows to be commended in theory but which he feels him self not up to, seems to possess extraordinary spiritual power (kasektèn). As a result, the abangan has developed a complex of fear, admiration, envy, guilt, and inferiority vis-à-vis the santri. For example, many abangan informants in Kotagede described our Pak Dja'far, a military commander of both 1945 and 1966 crises, as a man of invincibility, superhuman clever ness and courage, unlimited physical energy who can fight a hand-to-hand === [PDF page 340] === 316 combat for days and nights without eating, drinking, resting, yet showing no signs of exhaustion. The often-heard appellation, 'fanatic', given by the abangan to a Muhammadijah-type activist, seems not so much derogatory but reflecting a secret admission of inferiority on the part of the abangan. And since abangan attitude towards santri is ambivalent in essence, an abangan may turn to santri as his positive reference point. In fact, a large part of the increase of Muhammadijah membership seems to have occurred in this way. The social categorization of Javanese society in terms of santri and abangan (and in a qualified sense, prijaji) presented and refined by Clifford Geertz and employed by many other students of Java, have been a useful tool of analysis so long as we have wanted to make sense of rather chaotic Javanese social groupings. However, once it is fixed as a complex of cultural attributes of individuals and used to classify them into cate gories, its analytical usefulness seems to diminish. The result has been a kind of tautology that an abangan behaves because he is in the abangan group and the same as santri. I hope that my foregoing descriptions and arguments have contributed to a revision of this unrealistic picture of Javanese religious behavior. === [PDF page 341] === CHAPTER VI CONCLUSION: RE-ISLAMIZATION OF JAVA "The struggle (perdjuangan) to achieve a truly Islamic society (masjarakat Islam jang se-henar-benar-nja) is a struggle which has no breaks (tak putus-putus). It is like a relay race (permainan estafet); generation by generation (généras i demi generasi) taking turns to carry forward the relay baton [of the struggle] on the track of history" (from a Muhammadi jah youth publication, Kotagede 1970). The thesis I have developed in the foregoing chapters has been that orthodox Islam in the form of a reformist movement, Muhammadi jah, has arisen from within the traditional Javanese Islam as its internal trans formation rather than as an outright import of a new ideology made complete elsewhere and that the reformist version of orthodox Islam has been a vigorously proselytizing religious ideology and has brought, is bringing, and will bring about profound changes in social, cultural, economic and political aspects of Javanese life. To support the thesis I have attempted to document, describe and analyze major aspects of this ongoing process of re-Islamization as it has occurred in a local town, Kotagede, in south Central Java over the past some seventy years. If my thesis can be regarded to have been demonstrated sufficiently, at least for one local case, then the view expressed here may appear to come into a direct conflict with an assumption widely held among students of contemporary Indonesia that Islam, especially its reformist version, is 317 === [PDF page 342] === 318 losing political strength. For example, George Kahin has recently ex pressed such a view in his preface to Ken Ward's The Foundation of the Fartai Muslimin Indonesia (19T0). Kahin states, "Today [1970] Islamic political power in Indonesia has become considerably weaker [than in the early 1 9 5 0 's], and the influential Modernist Islamic ele ments who previously led the Masjumi are without political focus and organization" (ibid.;iii). Another foreign observer of Indonesian politics studying the results of the 1 9 7 1 general election noted a "surprisingly poor showing" of the electoral support Parmusi obtained. Parmusi votes of the 5.36% of the total votes in 1971 is compared to Masjumi votes of 20.9% of the total in the 1955 general election, and the figures have been regarded as firm evi dence for the drastically weakening political strength of reformist Mus Nowadays it has become common among the circles of Indonesian obser vers to hear expressions of surprise, "Muslims are still strong!", or "They are still holding out!", when there has happened a show of Muslim political strength nationally or locally like NU's persistence in the rural areas of Central and East Java in the 1971 election or like a more recent event of the passage of Marriage Law with numerous amendments to appease Muslim critics despite Muslim political parties' numerical weakness in the post-election parliament. Obviously, the assumption underlying this kind of reaction is that the weakening of Muslim political strength is a natural process to expect, and the opposite is rather exceptional. So much so that academic interest now seems to be shifting to studying how long and how far Muslim political forces can survive and resist this process === [PDF page 343] === 319 in terms of their relationships vis-à-vis the overwhelming power of the military dominated government. In this general climate of opinion, my thesis seems to belong to a tiny minority view which holds that Islam has been getting stronger. Drewes, the Dutch scholar of Javanese Islam, observed in the early 1950*s that "the Islamization of Indonesia is still in progress, not only in the sense that Islam is still spreading among pagan tribes, but also in that peoples who went over to Islam centuries ago are living up more and more to the standard of Muslim orthodoxy" (Drewes 1955:286). Hoesein Djajadiningrat, the Indonesian Islamologist of international reputation, assessed the sit uation in the mid-1950's that "the number of 'white people', or those who have knowledge of Islam and are living up to Islamic principles, is in creasing" (1958:384). Daniel Lev, the American political scientist study ing the social basis of Islamic legal institutions, obtained in Djakarta in 1 9 7 1 a strong impression that many people are now undertaking Islamic ob ligations such as fasting in the month of Ramadhan*more seriously than before, "almost enthusiastically" (1972:263). To be exact, however, the majority and the minority are not differing in opinion on the assessment of the same phenomenon. The majority is focus ing on the weakening of the political strength of Muslims. The minority is, however, concerned about the growth of the number of serious believers in socio-religious terms. Their opinions are not mutually exclusive and both can be. right. Yet, there remains a problem of how to account for the relationship between the waning of Muslim political strength and the waxing of Muslim social forces. === [PDF page 344] === 320 I think it is a real problem arising from Indonesian reality and challenging our understanding of it. I feel it is a kind of problem which can educate us in terms of substantive knowledge as well as theoretical sophistication when we attempt to seek a proper solution. I have addressed myself to this problem in various parts of my dissertation with particular reference to the reality of Kotagede society, even if my answers have not been persuasive enou^. In addressing to this problem I have stood by an obvious but often forgotten truism that Islam is a religion, a faith for the believers and not a marker for political grouping. Politics in fact forms only a peri pheral concern for most Muslims' daily lives. Instead of merely looking at Islam as a symbol of political solidarity, I have tried to understand the intellectual content, ethical relevance and significance of ritual action of Islam as they are practiced in the real-life context of Kotagede. My field work in Kotagede was an experience of revelation for me. While I was living amidst Javanese Muslims for a prolonged period of time I started to gradually feel and realize that there is nothing peculiar about being a pious Muslim in that given environment and it also makes sense to be a more devout one, too. If my thesis conveys something of that feeling, I think I have done my job. Muhammadijah is a paradoxical movement. It looks doctrinaire at a distance. Yet at a closer examination, we realize that there is no theo logical systematization at all. What is there is rather an array of moral admonitions taken direct from the Qur'an and Hadith. It looks exclusivistic when viewed from outside, but in fact it is extremely open when you are within. It looks organizationally imposing, but, actually, it is an aggre === [PDF page 345] === 321 gate of individuals who value personal devotion most. It looks an organi zation of high discipline, but in fact there is no effective disciplinary device. It looks aggressive and fanatic, but in fact its ways of propaga tion are gradualist and tolerant. And finally but perhaps most importantly, it looks anti-Javanese but actually it embodies Javanese virtues in many ways. Perhaps we can say here we have a case of a universal religion like Islam having become a living religious tradition in Javanese environment. === [PDF page 346] === APPENDIX I OCCUPATION AND INCOME IN KOTAGEDE, 1972: PRELIMTNAEY RESULT OF SAMPLE HOUSEHOLD SURVEY In March-April 1972, with the help of four local assistants I admin istered an intensive survey of 60 households, a 2% sample of the total households of 2,892 in the urban area of Kotagede. The area comprised four Neighborhood Associations (Rukun Kampong), Alun-Alun, Prenggan, Basen and Purbaj an, all belonging to the Ward (Kemantren) of Kotagede Jogjakarta, the City of Jogjakarta (Kota Madya Jogjakarta); a hamlet (dukuh) of Djojopranan belonging to the Village of Singosaren (Kalurahan Singosaren) and one entire administrative village of Kalurahan Djagalan, both belong ing to the District of Kotagede Surakarta (Ketjamatan Kotagede Surakarta) of the Regency of Bantul (Kabupaten Bantul) (cf. Map 2 above). Out of the 60 households ("rumah tangga) selected randomly from the records of the 1971 national census, my assistants and I were able to in terview 56 household heads (kepala somah). The survey covered many items including household composition, occupation, education, language, religious and political affiliation, marital history, occupational history, property and income. A thorough statistical processing of the survey results has yet to be done. But I have so far completed a preliminary analysis of the data on occupation and income as follows. OCCUPATIONAL COMPOSITION The 56 households had 276 individuals in total, of whom 100 had cashearning occupations. The occupations of these cash-eamers are categoried and corresponding figures obtained as follows: 322 === [PDF page 347] === 323 Table 1. Occupational Composition Professionals 10 9.2 Entrepreneurs 17 15.6 Craftsmen, small 82 75.2 traders, workers Total 109 100.0 A small number of individuals was counted twice because of the double occupation, like a school teacher also getting income from petty trade, resulting that the total number of occupations (1 0 9 ) exceeded the total of individuals (lOO). The category of ’professionals' included 2 active and 3 retired government officials (pegawai negri), 2 teachers and 2 private firm clerks (pegawai swasta), and 1 hamlet chief (kepala dukuh). In the category of 'entrepreneurs', 7 were pengusaha (lit., 'entrepreneurs', i.e., factory or workshop owner/managers) and 10 dagang (large traders). In the third category, 20 were craftsmen and artisans (tukang), of which silver smiths (tukang perak) were the largest group with 11 individuals. Small traders were 28 in total, including 21 peddlers (bakul) and 4 waning (small food stall) keepers. In the third category there were 34 semi-skilled and unskilled workers (buruh), in which l6 pendjahit (lit., 'sewers', or assis tants to master tailors) formed the single largest group while the rest were mostly assistants to craftsmen/artisans. There were 4 farm workers (buruh tani) in the third category, but in the entire sample there were no owner-farmers (tani) at all. === [PDF page 348] === 324 INCOME The daily incomes of 100 cash-earning individuals were distributed as follows: Table 2. Daily Cash Income in rupiahs individuals % 50 and less 42 42.0 5 1 -1 0 0 33 33.0 101-150 8 8.0 151-200 9 9.0 201 and more 6 6.0 No information 2 2.0 Total. 100 100.0 At the time of the survey (March-April 1972), the price of medium quality rice (heras) at the Kotagede market ranged from 32 to 35 rupiahs, and the official exchange rate of Indonesian rupiah was 415 rupiahs to 1 U.S. dollar. The percentage of the individuals whose daily cash income was less than 100 rupiahs amounted to 75% of the total sample. The lowest cash earner was a bamboo artisan (tukang bambu) who earned only 10 rupiahs a day. The hipest daily income of 1,300 rupiahs was made by a batik entre preneur. Statistically, the mean of the incomes for a cash-earning individual was 108 rupiahs and the median 73 rupiahs a day. Per household cash income including non-cash-earning members was 189 rupiahs a day while an average === [PDF page 349] === 325 household had 4.93 persons in all, of whom 1.78 persons were cash-earning. Per capita cash income including non-cash-eaming persons averaged at 38 rupiahs a day, i.e., a little less than 10 cents in the U.S. dollar or rice equivalent of slightly more than 1 kilogram per person. === [PDF page 350] === APPENDIX II A LOCAL RESPONSE TO THE ETHNOGRAPHER'S PRESENCE The problem of rapport faces every ethnographer. In my case, the problem loomed insurmountable when I saw the first of the following ar ticles in a Jogjakarta daily newspaper, Kedaulatan Rakjat only two months after my arrival in Kotagede. However, as the second article shows, I was able to overcome this particular 'crisis' for my field work. In struggling for survival, I also learned many things including the facts that there were only 75 subscribers of this newspaper in the total population of 15,000 in Kotagede, that the bulk of the population was indifferent or even suspicious generally to what newspapers say, that there was a serious rivalry going on among the entrepreneurs of silver industry in Kotagede. "'KOTA GEDE SILVER INDUSTRIALISTS WORRIED Foreigners' Presence Arouses Their Suspicions' At the present silverwork industrialists in Kota Gede are complaining and feeling worried because recently there have been seen in Kota Gede a few foreigners whose behavior they find very suspicious. But those indus trialists cannot do anything because, they say, those foreigners have al ready obtained official permission to stay and carry out their activities in the areas. A certain industrialist who related the matter to the said: at first they believed that the above mentioned foreigners were staying in the areas of Kota Gede in order to perform research in one of the branches of social sciences. But, according to the observers, one wonders why the foreigners have several times carefully photographed the layout of the streets and certain places in Kota Gede. They also have re portedly visited silver workers several times. Mysteriously Disappeared Suspicions of those silver industrialists have been strengthened by the silver workers who recently returned from EXPO '70 in Osaka, Japan. 326 === [PDF page 351] === 327 According to them, a few impoirtant tools of theirs which are used to en grave silver have disappeared in mysterious ways. In addition (the sus picions) are based on the experience that batik designs have been photo graphically reproduced by foreigners whose hidden intention later became known when the same designs appeared abroad. We do not yet know how much attention has been paid to this matter by the government, particularly by the Department of Foreign Affairs, Direc torate General of Industry, Directorate General of Tourism, and among others, by the Tourist Promotion Board of Special Region of Jogjakarta. Attention Increased The following can be added: recently the attention of foreign tour ists to the folk silverwork of Kota Gede has continuously increased. Almost every day foreign tourists flow into this silverwork town. They visit and see historic remains and tourist objects, and buy folk silver work products. Furthermore, recently there was reportedly a special order from abroad to produce 'chess men' in silver after the names and shapes taken from wajang plays." Kedaulatan Rakjat, January 5, 1971 (Translation) ’"MITSUO NAKAMURA DOESN'T LIKE TO BE AN INDUSTRIAL SPY IN KOTA GEDE' In connection with the report of the K.R. about "Kota Gede Silver Industrialists Worried" because of the presence of the suspicious foreign ers, contained in the issue of Tuesday, January 5 » 1970 [sic], Mr. Mitsuo Nakamura has already come to see the [K.^. ] editorial staff. He is a Japanese citizen, an anthropologist of Cornell University, U.S.A., who has been engaged in research for the preparation of his thesis, entitled "Urban Patterns of Javanese Social Structure and Culture". He told the editorial staff that he came to Kota Gede only for the purpose of scienti fic research and he has no intention of becoming a "Matahari Industri" (Matahari is the name of a German woman spy who appeared during World War I. Matahari, a Dutch descent, was once the wife of a sugar factory manager in Pasuruan). In addition to the above statement, Mr. Mitsuo showed the editorial staff his identification papers from the Indonesian government offices. Among them was a paper from the LIPI (Indonesian Institute of Sciences) with the signature of Prof. Dr. Koentjaraningrat, as the Vice Chief of the Social Sciences and Humanities Board. Interested in Javanese Culture Mr. Mitsuo Nakamura (37 years old) is staying in Kota Gede with his family, a wife and three children. His youngest child was b o m in Panti Rapih on Oct. 20 [sic], 1970. Since he is the second son of Mitsuo's === [PDF page 352] === 328 family, he has been given the name, Jiro. Mr. Mitsuo Nakamura has been interested in Javanese culture, particularly of Central Java, since he was 16 years old [sic], when he read a book on the "Japanese Occupation of Indonesia". The book was written by a Navy Official, Koichi Koshi [sic], at that time. His interest grew while he was studying anthropology at Tokyo University. At that time he had the chance to get acquainted with Prof. Dr. Selosoemardjan. From this Indonesian scholar he obtained more extensive knowledge of Javanese culture, especially of Jogja. While doing library research at Cornell, Mitsuo came across van Mook's book [sic] on "Kota Gede". Since then he has been concentrating his attention on the anthropological research of Kota Gede. Has Long History When he was questioned [by us] why he was concentrating his research in Central Java, Mr. Nakamura said that it was because towns in Java had long history: thus he could collect materials tracing social and cultural changes from period to period. Javanese towns are different from other towns which have only recently developed. One particular difference is, according to this still young scholar, that in Javanese towns traditional culture is still maintained and respected, in addition to the newly appar ent culture. When he finishes his thesis, Mr. Mitsuo Nakamura is planning to con tinue his research in towns of other part of Asia. In addition to this, he hopes to help the personnel and the specialists of international organ izations. Mr. Mitsuo Nakamura has the following academic degrees: B.A. (in Philosophy from University of Tokyo), M.A. (in Anthropology from Uni versity of Tokyo), M.A. (in Anthropology from Cornell University, U.S.A.). While he was meeting with the editorial staff of the IC.^., he used fluent Indonesian and smoked several kreteks. "Kota Gede people are friendly", he said." Kedaulatan Rakjat, January T, 1971 (Translation) === [PDF page 353] === BIBLIOGRAPHY Aardrijkskundig... 1869. Aardrljkskundig en statistisch woordenboek van Hederlandsch Indie. Vol. LL. — Amsterdam. Adam, L. 1938. "GescMedkundige aanteekeningen omtrent de Residentie Madioen, IV. Restanten van KaGangs," Djava, Vol. XVIII, pp. 103-107. Alfian 1969. 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Djarkarta: Widjaja. === [PDF page 368] === GLOSSARY abangan nominal Muslim abdl dalem lit., royal servant, court official abdl dalem d.jurunkuntji court official in charge of upkeeping Royal Cemetery in Kotagede abdi dalem santri religious specialist of court bakul peddler batin inner self, internally bekel bailiff, tax collector buruh semi-skilled, unskilled worker, usually paid daily djuragan entrepreneur, master craftsman djurukuntji lit., 'key-keeper'; see abdi dalem djurukuntji desa rural village, rural hadji pilgrim to Mekka; title thereafter ichlas sincere, devoted kalurahan administrative village kampong urban neighborhood kemantren urban administrative unit, ward ketib Friday sermon giver kija.ji Islamic teacher, title for a venerated elder man kl see kalurahan korban sacrifice, sacrificial animal kota town, city, urban kramat locus of nystical powers kraton court, royal palace kuli kentjeng holder of house-compound (and farmland) lahir external self, outwardly langgar small prayer house lungguh appanage; office land for village official Masjumi Madjelis Sjuro Muslimin Indonesia (Consultative Council of Indonesian Muslims); the so-named political party mesd.jid mo sque NU Nahdatul Ulama (Renaissance of Ulama), an association of traditional Muslim scholars; the so-named political party pamrih selfish desire 344 === [PDF page 369] === 345 pasar market Pasarejan graveyard, cemetery; Royal Cemetery in Kotagede patuh appanage holder pegavai official; office worker pegawai negri government official penggedé lit., big man; power holder pesantrèn traditional rural Islamic school PKI Partai Komunis Indonesia (Indonesian Communist Party) PMl Partai Nasional Indonesia (Indonesian Nationalist Party) pri.1a.ji aristocrat, court official R.K. see Rukun Kampong rukun Islam 'five pillars of Muslim'; Confession of Faith, daily prayer, fasting, payment of religious taxes, pilgrimage to Mekka Rukun Kampong neighborhood association; semi-official lowest unit of urban administration santri student in pesantrèn; pious Muslim tarêkat devotional order, Muslim brotherhood tukang craftsman, artisan ulama. Islamic scholar, teacher wong t.jilik lit., 'little people', common people zakat fitrah religious tax (in rice)