The Politics of Islam — page 3

A stroll through Kota Gede, a quiet township of narrow footpaths, tile-roofed homes and silver shops—the town's signature industry—shows the challenges facing Islamic politicians in Indonesia. A pyramid-topped gateway to the local mosque has carvings of a Hindu god—a sacrilege to purist Muslims, but a clear sign of the blended nature of Indonesian Islam. At the Muhammadiyah-run Aisyiyah Bustanul Atfal Kindergarten, a playroom has a series of dolls to show the youngsters how to lay out mats, bow and pray properly at a mosque, but there are also brightly colored models of a Hindu temple, Buddhist stupa and Christian church. "The children have to learn that there are other religions in Indonesia," says Siti Rojiyah, the headmistress. Com-pare that to the Madinatul Ilmi, an Islamic primary school in Malaysia's Kota Baharu. There, in one classroom, English-language books had the uncovered heads of foreigners obscured by strips of glued-on white paper.

Baihad Ahmad, the chain-smoking owner of a gift shop in Kota Gede's central market, says he voted for PAN in 1999 because "I agree that the government should be more Islamic," he explains. But that doesn't mean he wants Islamic law. "I don't think women should be forced to cover their heads," he says. Voters like Baihad are giving fits to Boedi Dewantoro, the vice chairman of the provincial parliament in Yogyakarta and a representative of the Justice Party, Indonesia's most-hard-line Islamic party. Like Malaysia's PAS, the Justice Party advocates the adoption of Islamic law—but its activists don't dare mention that goal to voters in Kota Gede. "These things are very traumatic to most Indonesians," he says. An Islamic state "is very, very far away" in Indonesia.

The difference between Indonesia and Malaysia is partly due to the opposing strategies of their long-time rulers. Indonesia's Suharto pursued a policy of secularism and economic development for his country and suppressed Islamists, often ruthlessly, because he feared they would challenge him. By doing so, he inadvertently contributed to the rise of terrorism in Southeast Asia. One of the clerics radicalized by Suharto's repression was Abubakar Ba'asyir, alleged spiritual leader of Jemaah Islamiah, the network of Islamic militants widely believed to be behind the Bali bombings; he is now under arrest in Jakarta on other charges.

Malaysia's Mahathir, on the other hand, consciously embarked on an Islamization program. He established Islamic schools (including an Islamic university), set up an Islamic banking system and even, for a while, allowed Muslims being persecuted elsewhere to seek refuge in Malaysia. But this effort to preempt the Islamists didn't fully work—and eventually backfired. To bring Malaysia into the modern world, Mahathir at the same time has welcomed foreign investment and encouraged Malays to get rich. This has made him vulnerable to accusations, by PAS and other Islamic groups that have sprung up through Islamization, that his government is corrupt and not truly committed to Islamic values. "This monster we have created is now working against us," says Abdul Razak Baginda, executive director of the Malaysian Strategic Research Center, a think tank in Kuala Lumpur.

Malaysian Islamists, however, still face a host of hurdles. Since Sept. 11, Mahathir has successfully tarnished Nik Aziz and his colleagues as dangerous extremists. It hasn't been hard to do. The PAS-controlled state parliament in Kelantan has already made Islamic law the official code of the state. (However, since the laws contradict the national constitution, they haven't been enforced.) During the war in Afghanistan, PAS members rallied to support the Taliban. And one of Nik Aziz's sons, Nik Adli, has been detained by the government since 2001 for alleged involvement in terrorist groups. Nik Aziz criticizes the government for not presenting evidence against his son in a formal trial and says the authorities are using the war against terror as a pretext to clamp down on political opposition.

PAS's biggest hurdle is the diversity of Malaysia's population. More than 40% of the country's 23 million people aren't Muslim, and PAS has failed to convince them that "Islam is for everybody," as Nik Aziz asserts. Leong Su Siang, chairman of the Kota Baharu branch of the Malaysian Chinese Association, says increasing numbers of the Chinese minority are moving out of Kelantan. He complains that the PAS government pays little attention to the economy and has even closed down karaoke parlors, a favorite Chinese pastime. "The government is too religious," he grumbles. "There's no freedom here. If this policy continues, the Chinese population will grow smaller and smaller."

But it would be wrong to count the Islamists out, thanks to people like Chiara Sari, a student of English at the University of Indonesia. Three months ago, the former fashion model, inspired by an Islamic preacher, ended her career and started wearing a head scarf for the first time in her life, saying "it feels more comfortable." Now Chiara tries not to miss any of the required five prayers a day and has discarded the R. and B. music she once loved for nasyid groups, which sing about Islamic teachings. And in next year's election, she plans to vote for the purist Justice Party. She doesn't know much about it, she admits, just that "it is Islamic." The Islamists couldn't pray for more.

—With reporting by M. Faried Cahyono/Yogyakarta, Zamira Loebis/Kota Gede and Mageswary Ramakrishnan/Kuala Lumpur

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