Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2016. xiv, 270 pp. (Tables.) US$99.99, cloth. ISBN 978-1-107-13022-7.
Indonesia is neither a secular state, nor an Islamic one. Both terms have negative connotations in Indonesian society, and therefore have been avoided in legal and political areas. By the 1945 Constitution, Indonesia has been relegated to a “middle position.” It compromises between secularism, where no single religion predominates, and religiosity, where religion (especially Islam) becomes one of the central pillars of the state.
The Indonesian experience demonstrates that Islamic political parties assign religious meaning to national institutions and tend to more readily endorse the state’s policies and practices. Internal secularizers, on the other hand, do not sacralize but challenge the authority of the state by offering religious alternatives. This process shows that in their ideology and practices, religious political parties are more likely to transform religious ideas from within, and even accommodate some of the premises of a pluralistic democracy. Two processes walk hand in hand: the “secularization” of religious content and giving a “secular” political system substantive religious meaning.
By participating in elections and constitutional reform, Islamic political parties in Indonesia have demonstrated that they are willing to work within the parameters of parliamentary democracy and constitutionalism and abide by the principle of popular sovereignty rather than divine sovereignty. Islamic political parties wishing to propose legislation inspired by Islamic principles must ensure that the legislation is consistent with the dictates of the rule of law and public reason rather than holy texts. For instance, a law on a pilgrimage does not impact on the rituals associated with the hajj (as the obligation to go hajj comes not from the law, but from God) but only affects the technical aspects of regulating 16,000 Indonesians who make the pilgrimage to Saudi Arabia. This involves dealing with the Saudi government, in terms of providing accommodation, transportation, and health and safety measures to Indonesian Muslims performing the hajj. In this regard, secular considerations mix with religious obligations.
Michael Buehler’s book, The Politics of Shari’a Law: Islamist Activists and the State in Democratizing Indonesia, goes further. It examines the relationship between law and an Islamic agenda at provincial and district levels. At least 443 shari’a regulations were issued at those provincial and district levels between 1998 and 2013. Buehler found that 67 percent of these regulations were enforced in six out of thirty-four provinces, which encompass half of the country’s population. His conclusion was that many shari’a regulations were adopted in the areas ruled by Indonesian secular parties rather than regions controlled by Indonesian Islamist parties. Therefore, he argues that the Islamist parties are not necessarily the key drivers of the politicization of shari’a.
His findings are not novel if we understand the characteristics of Indonesia’s “middle position,” as is explained at the outset. But for those who think that shari’a and Islamic political parties are not the legitimate children of democracy, Buehler’s findings might be surprising. Still, it begs the question of why secular political parties proposed to insert shari’a into legislation at sub-national levels? In his book, Buehler shows that the move towards the establishment of shari’a is the work of what he calls “opportunist Islamisers,” attached to secularist parties. “In other words, the adoption of these shari’a regulations is driven by political expediency rather than ideological shifts within the Indonesian polity” (3).
Buehler provides an interesting fact: shari’a regulations were mostly adopted within two years (before and after) of the election of local government heads, but the number significantly decreased during the elite’s second (and final) term in office. Interestingly, in some cases, the issuing of shari’a regulations was aimed at camouflaging or distracting attention away from ongoing and pervasive corruption conducted by the mayor or governor.
On a final note, it seems that shari’a regulation at sub-national levels are problematic. Prostitution, gambling, alcohol consumption are prohibited, but these are already prohibited at the national level through the penal code, so prohibiting them under shari’a regulation at the local level is not really necessary. Reading the Qur’an and paying the zakat (alms or religious tax) are compulsory; and the wearing of Muslim clothing is encouraged. Paying zakat has been regulated under the national law, while reading the Qur’an is not compulsory under Islamic law, but the shari’a regulation at sub-national levels has made it an obligation. This is considered as beyond the requirements of Islamic law. Wearing a veil is regulated in the Qur’an but Islamic law has not established a punishment for those who do not wear a veil—something that shari’a regulation has created, an act considered stricter than Qur’anic requirements. The good thing is that the shari’a regulations here are not concerned with cutting off the hands of thieves, an eye for an eye, or stoning to death. But what concerns me is that the idea of having shari’a regulations is not to improve local government performance. Rather, the institution of shari’a regulations is political and lacks substantive meaning.
Buehler’s book, published in 2016, was based on research conducted between 1998 and 2013. His findings highlight the intersection of religion and politics in Indonesia. Indonesia’s political situation in 2017 has also confirmed his argument that shari’a regulations at sub-national levels are no longer the main issue. Perhaps, “the opportunist Islamisers” have different games to play, rejecting the non-Muslim candidates, as in the case of the 2017 election for Jakarta governor.
Nadirsyah Hosen
Monash University, Melbourne, Australia