Deradicalization program in Indonesia radicalizing the radicals

Abstract

“Deradicalisation” refers to the process through which members of radical Islamic groups abandon their commitment to extreme ideologies and beliefs that could potentially bring them to organised violence. Since the mid-2000s, Indonesia has witnessed an increasing numbers of deradicalization programmes and activities. This article focuses on how so-called deradicalisation interventions intended to normalise Islamic radicals in Indonesia has instead turned them towards a different kind of radicalism. Deradicalisation should be better understood as a hegemonic project trying to shape and control the meaning of good (and normal) Indonesian citizenship. The process has paved the way for radicals to attribute different meanings to “good Indonesian citizenship”. Theirs are also hegemonic projects centred around the fight against injustice and exclusion. This article is based on interviews with Islamic radical figures and activists, as well as fieldwork in Jakarta, Semarang, Yogyakarta, Solo and Poso.

Keywords:

• deradicalisation
• injustice
• Islamic radicals
• Indonesia

PUBLIC INTEREST STATEMENT

Islamic radicalism in Indonesia is politico-religio movements who demands the implementation of Shari’a—a sort of Islamic law—and the formation of an Islamic state both at national and global level. They want to achieve this by re-establishing pristine Islam practiced by the Prophet Muhammad, His Companions and His Earliest Followers. The rise of the movements has been responded by a concerted project called deradicalization. It aims at distancing the movements from ideologies and beliefs that could lead them to organized violence. This paper focusing on deradicalization examines how such interventions has instead turned them towards a different kind of radicalism. Deradicalisation should be better understood as a hegemonic project trying to shape and control the meaning of good (and normal) Indonesian citizenship. It has paved the way for radicals to attribute different meanings to “good Indonesian citizenship” centred around the fight against injustice and exclusion.

1. Introduction

Since the mid-2000s, Indonesia has witnessed an increasing numbers of programmes and activities called “deradicalisation”. The term refers to the process through which members of radical Islamic groups abandon their commitment to extreme ideologies and beliefs that could potentially bring them to organised violence (Hiariej et al., 2015; Hwang et al., 2013). Deradicalisation emphasises substantial change. The aim is to bring about the transformation of ideology and attitude that allows radicals to denounce, and committedly distance themselves from, violence.

How do the radicals respond to deradicalisation? Existing works on the subject positively take deradicalisation as a crucial form of intervention for dealing with violent radicalism (See, for example, Fink & Hearne, 2008; Horgan & Braddock, 2010; Hwang, 2015; Neumann, 2010). Debate centres largely on the best, most appropriate and empirically proven ways to produce and run such programmes. Indonesia badly needs such intervention to counter existing violence and prevent the same problem from re-emerging in the future.

This study problematises the very idea of deradicalisation. The term should be further understood in two ways. In the most narrow and commonly used sense, deradicalisation is a range of programmes (starting in the early 2000s) meant to deal with violent radicalism initiated and managed by various institutions, including government agencies, universities, NGOs, and religious organisations. However, as will be shown in this study, the process is also nothing less than a hegemonic project trying to control society by condemning and excluding extremist ideologies and religious radicalism. Ideologies and religiosities with specific profiles, natures, and contents are categorised as dangerous and abnormal. Their existence in various forms is systematically de-legitimised by mainstream groups in government, civil society organisations, media, and religious organisations. As extremism and radicalism are largely portrayed as “un-Indonesian”, rejection of Islamic radicalism and of Muslims associated with this group is justifiable.

In this regard, deradicalisation is only possible because, to borrow from Butler, the lives of radicals are hardly apprehended as living (Butler, 2009). Theirs are not qualified and conceivable as lives within the specific and acceptable epistemological frame of being a normal and good Indonesian (Muslim). Deradicalisation is meant to normalise radicals. More than just being a series of workshops, training sessions, and financial incentives, it is to bring them back to lives framed as acceptable by the dominants. The problem is that the frames through which the lives of radical Islamic groups fail to be apprehended are political, based on particular power relations in which radical Islamic groups are viewed as on the wrong side of domination. The radicals largely perceive this whole discursive process as a simple and blunt operation of power exercised at the expense of their rights and equal treatment. Although this discursive process does not necessarily decide or directly control the condition of life for the radicals, it certainly sets up limitations on the spheres of life that the radicals can enter into and become involved in.

Unsurprisingly, in one of the author’s conversations with a number of terrorist convicts in Semarang’s prison, it was revealed how the radicals mocked the programme. A class on Islamic values and norms conducted in the prison—supposed to teach radicals proper, acceptable, and contextualised Islamic teachings—for instance, is only taken seriously as a means of getting better meals during the session compared to daily prison menu. This largely reflects the general assessment of the programme, as it has hardly achieved its ambitious ideological and psychological goal of “curing” the radicals.

This study will show that deradicalisation, rather than “curing” radicals, has paved the way for radical Islamic groups to invent a different kind of radicalism. This all starts from the fact that the deradicalisation process has attempted to impose a particular understanding of good (and very often normal) Indonesian citizenship upon the radicals. For their part, the radicals have cleverly taken this imposed identity and filled it with their own understanding of what a normal and good Indonesian should be. Filling in this identity, they have started to pay more attention to problems such as corruption, poverty, inequality, and foreign capital expansion. For them, a good Indonesian citizen should be one concerned with, and seriously trying to transform, these issues. Accompanying this process is a critical attitude towards the state, especially how it handles the problems mentioned above. They have interrogated the state’s roles and demanded that it do its main task to protect the people and to perform better, and largely ended up being disappointed by the state’s attitude, which they see as taking sides with the dominants. The poor, and certainly the radicals themselves, are left without defence, being continuously harassed by the interests of dominant groups and facing systematic discrimination. This fails to conceal the fact that they have been the main actor in various acts of discrimination against minority groups such as Ahmadiyya, Shi’ites, and Christians over the past several years. However, in their arguments, the activists refused to treat these groups as minority, as these groups have continuously received significant support from the mainstream media, as well as civil society organisations, government agencies, and prominent intellectuals. In so doing, the radicals perceive respecting minority rights as part of hegemonic discourse of good Indonesian citizenship that excludes them.

This study takes inspiration from the seminal work of Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe (Howarth, 2000; Howarth & Stavrakakis, 2000; Laclau & Mouffe, 1985; Laclau, 1990, 1996, 2005; Mouffe, 1992, 2005). As discussed thus far, deradicalisation is a discursive process. It consists of contesting discourses in shaping the meaning of good Indonesian citizenship, discourses that nonetheless are united—and contaminated—by Islamic radicalism as their most significant antagonist other. Indeed, the meanings produced by these discourses could be better understood against a simple play of difference through which the existence of radical Islamic groups is negated. At the same time, this shared negation has put different discourses into a common front. In return, the radicals have also been involved in their own hegemony project against what they take as the establishment that produces deradicalisation. Theirs is also a contestation of different discourses, which negate and, at the same time, are united by a chain of solidarity against this establishment.

The argument developed in this introduction will be further discussed as follows. The next section focuses on deradicalisation. It will outline three contesting discourses that have shape the meaning of good Indonesian citizenship and how the presence of Islamic radicalism as a constitutive other is crucial for the production of meanings and formation of solidarity chains between these discourses. The third section discusses how radicals respond to what they perceive as exclusion. It is such response that has led them to the invention of different kind of radicalism. In so doing, the radicals are also involved in their own hegemony project, with their own competing discourses. In the subsequent discussion, this study will show how this different kind radicalism has led the radicals to interrogate the state. The final part of this article will present its conclusions.

2. Research method

This study is largely based on fieldworks conducted in Jakarta, Bandung, Semarang, Yogyakarta, Solo, Palu, Poso and Ambon between 2013 and 2018. The focus was on four main target groups: radical Islamic groups’ activists from key organizations such as Hizbut Tahrir Indonesia (HTI) and Front Pembela Islam (Islamic Defender Front or FPI), terrorist convicts and former terrorist convicts, former civilian Muslim combatants and Muslim youth in senior high schools and universities strongly exposed to Islamic radicalism. A series of depth interviews targeted activists of HTI and FPI, key figures of former terrorist convicts and key figures of former civilian Muslim combatants. A number of focus group discussions involved terrorist convicts and Muslim youth in three senior high schools and three universities. This study also observed closely daily activities of one key figure of former terrorist convicts and one key figure of former civilian Muslim combatants.

Apart from the main target groups, depth interviews were also carried out to get more information and insights from national politicians, activists and academicians who are concerned with deradicalization and involved in deradicalization programs. Another series of interview further targeted key government officials in Badan Nasional Penanggulangan Terorisme (National Counter Terrorism Agency or BNPT) and two correctional institutions. BNPT was the backbone of many deradicalization programs conducted across the Archipelago. A couple of correctional institutions in Java were at the centre of the programs as they were the main prisons for terrorist convicts and former civilian Muslim combatants.

During the fieldwork Islamic radicalism was still at its height. After a couple of bombing attacks in Poso and Solo in 2013 and relatively quiet period of 2014 and 2015, Indonesia witnessed six terrorist attacks associated with Islamic radicalism in 2016 alone. Political tensions leading up to local election in Jakarta in 2017 put Islamic radical groups vis-à-vis nationalist-cum-pluralist groups in the front foot. Although nothing was new as the similar tensions colouring presidential election in 2014, the local election result alarmed the country. The elected governor got his most important supports from the radicals. Such developments had undoubtedly brought back deradicalization projects into the core. This study paid attention to the increasing debate on the best way to counter radicalism widely reported by mainstream media since around 2015. A series of concerted public campaign—involving intellectuals, activists, professionals, government officials, religious leaders and artists–against radicalism by promoting a multiculturalist Indonesia and reemphasizing the important of state ideology, Pancasila, provided valuable insights. The campaigns were events where the identity of normal and good Indonesian citizen was widely and broadly produced and propagated.

3. Deradicalisation as a hegemonic project: Nationalism, multiculturalism, non-violence-ism

Lying at the heart of deradicalisation is the notion of good Indonesian citizenship, in which a citizen is understood as an ideal Indonesian subject whose meaning is shaped by power struggles between different discourses, subject positions, and identities. There are at least three major and significant discourses and subject positions competing in constructing and trying to shut down—without too much success—the meaning of good Indonesian citizenship: nationalism, multiculturalism and non-violence-ism. Notwithstanding their contestation, these three competing discourses are united by their shared antagonism towards the (image of) Islamic radicalism. Nationalism, for instance, hardly refers to some true, original and eternal content. Its meaning is instead relational, constructed through the simple “play of difference” positioned against Islamic radicalism. In this regard, rejecting—quite often demonising—Islamic radicalism is positioned as equivalent to being a good Indonesian citizen.

3.1. Nationalism: Negating Islamic radicalism

The first dominating discourse in the production of good Indonesian citizenship is very much associated with the notion of nationalism. A good citizen is simply one who loves one’s country above anything else. Nationalism is normalised as the only politico-cultural affiliation compatible with the modern state form. It is further elevated and reified as a universal value that stands above other ethnic- and religious-based identities. Constructed through the sacred history of the Indonesian Revolution, nationalism is presented as something pristine and majestic, something that divinely unites diversity. It has prevented the initially culturally fragile country of Indonesia from falling apart into the spectre of “Balkanisation.” As a consequence, other specific and particular social bonds, including the one promoted by Islamism such as that of radical Islamic groups, are stigmatised as dangerous alien forces that will not only contest the sacred nationalism, but also (and more importantly) destabilise the social fabric of the nation-state. Differently put, being a good citizen is being a nationalist is abandoning one’s allegation to parochial politico-cultural loyalty, particularly Islamism.

Various studies have demonstrated that such persistence is part of the state’s attempt to produce control and political stability (See, Anderson, 1999; Aspinall, 2015; Menchik, 2016). This is achieved by enclosing the question of national identity, which disciplines any form of dissents, in the name of safeguarding national integration. In the past, it allowed the state to criminalise, for example, local resistances asking for a fair welfare distribution by branding them as separatist. In the present, such discursive practices have continued to operate as technology of power (in a Foucauldian sense) as it separates enemies of the nation from the majority good citizens. Radical Islamic groups are singled out as among the most prominent enemies. They are further stereotyped as carrying dangerous “hidden agendas” such as transforming Indonesia into an Islamic state and/or a Shari’a based society. The groups are then turned discursively into potential “traitors”, who must be treated with alert, suspicion, and distrust.

During the heyday of Soeharto’s reign, this stigmatisation granted the state immense power to exercise authority. The state asserted its control and maintained political stability by disbanding and surveilling various Islamic movements, often without accountability. As if the stigma is hardly sufficient, the common dominating narrative of the nation’s history is against these radical groups (see, Porter, 2002; Ramage, 1995; Schwarz, 2000). The rebellion throughout the archipelago by Muslim groups under the name Darul Islam (DI) after Indonesia’s independence has often been accentuated as legitimate evidence of this dangerous hidden agenda. Similarly, the heated debate among the founding fathers between the nationalists and the Muslim elites, who wanted to position Islam as the foundation of Indonesia’s state ideology, forged suspicions of these groups as undisputed historical fact. Today, in the relatively democratic system, the idea that radical Islamic groups are putting serious effort into capturing the state in order to establish an Islamic and Shari’a based society is still widely voiced among the Indonesian public. A range of violent incidents associated with the movements in the last decade have been taken as the most contemporary and alarming evidence of their hidden-agendas. It is not surprising that these groups are set apart from the rest of society, constantly portrayed as less normal and dangerous, and hardly apprehended as existing within the mainstream framework of normal and good Indonesian citizenship.

It is important to note that, in addition to the narratives previously sketched, nationalism is also about self-determination, particularly in terms of national sovereignty and self-determination. Nationalism is to reject foreign influence and take external intervention as an assault on national independence. Historically, this was at the core of independence movements. Nowadays, it often leads to, for example, accusations that society-based activists are foreign stooges selling their country for material benefits, simply because such activism is funded by international donors. The West has long embodied the idea of a foreign threat in the minds of many Indonesians. However, its presence as a source of dangerous external influence in the nationalist discourse is problematic. Since radical Islamic groups also share the same image, nationalism understood as being against the Western threat is increasingly nonsensical. The West is slowly subsided, and the narratives of foreign threats are domesticated. The importance of being independent is slightly twisted, replaced with the notion of originality and the importance of a so-called “Indonesian particular context”. Above all, the presence of the West is threatening because it has the potential to contaminate the original identity of the nation. As long as they are localized in accordance with Indonesian cultural contexts, foreign elements—not only Western ones—do not necessarily come as a threat.

Within this discursive transformation, the simple play of difference in constructing the meaning of nationalism is also exemplified. The so-called Indonesian particular context negates the rigid textual references used by Islamic radicals in understanding and preaching Islamic teachings. Islamic radicalism, thus, has been transformed into an external influence that is not pursuant with the original identity of Indonesia. Nationalism simply means rejecting this type of Islamic religiosity, which redresses certain Indonesian Muslims into culturally unrecognised citizens.

3.2. Multicultural narratives

The discourse on nationalism tolerates no other political identities and subordinates any form of particular social bonds under its cultural command. More than three decades after the failed revolution of the Indonesian Communist Party, as interpreted solely by the ruling political regime, nationalism has been perceived particularly by the ruling elite as the best solution to managing the cultural diversity inherited from the Dutch colonial era. However, since the mid-1990s ethnic and religious conflicts, involving violent and brutal acts, have begun to haunt Indonesia (HD Centre, 2011; Kreuzer, 2002; Schulze, 2017), tearing down communities widely applauded for their culture of tolerance (such as in Ambon) and revealing terrifying pictures of fellow citizens killing each other. Such brutality has given rise to the spectre of “disintegration” among many Indonesians, a fear that the country’s fate following the political opening of the late 1990s will tragically resemble what happen elsewhere after the destruction of Berlin Wall. Sometimes, cultural diversity seems to be too much, and the country appears on the edge of balkanising into several independent states. The independence of East Timor is anxiously perceived as setting an example of failure in managing diversity.

Unsurprisingly, this development poses a real challenge to nationalist narratives, whose rigid interpretation—the very technology of power previously noted—is increasingly taken as a problem. The local resistances that transform into independence movements are largely seen as responses to the oppressive power operating within discursive practices of nationalism. These movements are seen as political statements rejecting discipline and striving to become different subjects unlike those subjectified by national discourse.

Adding to the political openness and democratisation processes, the same development has paved the way for discourse on multiculturalism. According to this discourse, despite nationalism being important and the unity of the Indonesian state being non-negotiable, it is a fact that Indonesians live in a multi-cultural society. Notwithstanding nationalism as the sole source of nation identity, this multi-cultural nature must not be hidden or denied. Indonesians must learn to live with, and respect, plurality. Tolerance, mutual respect, and empathy are considered important values and principles that should be propagated across the country, taught from youth, and practiced in every aspect of citizens’ everyday lives (Hasani, 2008; Lan, 2011; Menchik, 2016; Saripudin & Komalasari, 2016). In this regard, Islamism as adopted and promoted by radical Islamic groups is poorly suited to Indonesia’s multi-cultural nature. The identity and lives implied by their ideology are seen as being against pluralism and tolerance, the very attributes—now competing with nationalism—of good Indonesian citizenship.

However, pluralism and tolerance are values whose legitimacy is rarely forged through critical intellectual scrutiny. Instead, they are nurtured by moral judgments based on traumatic experiences of horrible communal violence. Ironically, such horror was first imported from places outside the country and implanted in the memory of Indonesians, such as violent breakup of the former Yugoslavia. Following the significant number of ethnic and religious conflicts across the archipelago since the mid-1990s, homemade traumatic experiences were produced through scenes of brutal conflicts in the areas such as Sampit, Poso, and Ambon. These “indigenous” communal conflicts turned the previous hyper-real “balkanisation” into a series of concrete events within the logical reach of the dominant Indonesian historical frame.

More importantly, in subsequent discursive processes the horror of communal violence became increasingly associated with religious conflicts in Poso and Ambon. Starting with the Christmas Eve bombing campaign in 2000, this narrative was affixed to the image of terrorist attacks, mostly in Java and Bali. It was believed that specific religiosity-inspired movements were behind this violence. These movements, it is argued, have misused religion, particularly Islam, to condemn multiculturalism, treat acts of tolerance as blasphemy, and position pluralism as a dangerously contaminating foreign ideology. At this stage, denouncing such religiosity is equivalent to multiculturalism. As such religiosity is attached to radical Muslims, rejecting these groups is the essence and content of increasingly hegemonic multiculturalism narratives.

The biggest irony, however, is related to the idea of accepting and respecting cultural differences. The intriguing question that must be answered by multiculturalists is whether the pluralism promoted by this discourse indiscriminately views all kinds of differences. Is Islamic radicalism not just another form of differences? Is discursive negation of radical Islamic groups not against the very pluralism and tolerance being tirelessly preached? It seems that multiculturalism and the dominant culture that preaches tolerance only respects differences that are free of any “traumatic dimensions”, such as hurting others. Multiculturalism’s tolerance is indeed “tolerance of the Other in so far as this Other is not an ‘intolerant fundamentalist’, which simply means in so far as it is not the real Other” (Zizek, 1992, 2002, 2008). Multiculturalism in this sense is “unable to maintain a true indifference towards the Other’s jouissance”, that is, only capable of accepting and respecting others as long as these others abandon their substance (Zizek, 2002/2008, p. 174). This is nothing less than the “postmodern” behaviour of accessing objects without being ready to bear the risk, similar to drinking coffee without caffeine or beer without alcohol. Hence, multiculturalism’s main strategy is to build and preserve a definite and significant distance from this traumatic dimension.

In arguing along these lines, radical Islamic groups are the real Other, the kind of Other that rejects total and traumatic differences that are not conceivable by the dominant framework of acceptable kinds of living in Indonesia. These radical Muslims are treated as the proverbial “wife” of the dominant multicultural “husband”, one “who concedes in principle that his wife may have a lover, only not that guy” (Zizek, 2002/2008: p. 174). Differently put, multiculturalism accepts in principle these Muslims’ right to believe and yet at the same time rejecting their very substantial, determinate, and specific beliefs as radicalist or fundamentalist. Unsurprisingly, their identity and lives are the line where pluralism and tolerance cease to be relevant. They are thus treated as non-existent in the supposedly multi-cultural Indonesian tradition of tolerance and moderation. Indeed, multiculturalism relies on intolerance towards radical Islamic groups, thus ironically relying on the rejection of its own preaching of pluralism and tolerance.

It must be admitted that the discourse of multiculturalism tries to respect radicals’ religiosity. However, borrowing Zizek’s notion, their differences are treated patronisingly, similar to how adults behave towards children. Although they are never taken seriously, the latter are respected to avoid completely shattering their pride as persons with specific identities. The aim is to allow a much smoother transformation of their personalities into the “proper” ones. In the case of radical Islamic groups, their understanding of Islamic teachings is also respected—albeit not seriously—as a specific interpretation. However, this interpretation is viewed as flawed, as one that must be transformed into one suitable for multicultural society. The method of transforming radical Muslims should be crafted in a manner that will not be personally offensive and, hence, injure their pride. Such an approach is simply a more delicate way of telling these Muslims that they “just get it wrong” and must learn from (dominant) Indonesian Muslims, “who know better.”

3.3. Non-violence-ism and the global war on terror

Nationalism and multiculturalism are two major contesting discourses shaping the meaning of good Indonesian citizenship. Their discursive domination is reflected, for instance, in a number of deradicalisation workshop curricula for convicted terrorists and former combatants (Hiariej et al., 2015). From October until early December 2016, a number of high profile gatherings also centred on the articulation of both discourses. This began with “Indonesia Berdendang” (Indonesia Singing), which was about Indonesian multicultural richness; continued with “Apel Nusantara Bersatu” (United Archipelago Appeal), which emphasised the importance of national unity; and then “Kita Indonesia” (We are Indonesia), which called for primacy of the nation’s original identity (Osdar, 2017). More recently, articulation of the nationalism discourse is evident in the pro-Pancasila campaign supported by the government since May 2017 (see, Kompas.com, 7 June 2017). Multiculturalism discourses were prominently put vis-à-vis Islamic radicalism during the Jakartan gubernatorial campaign in early 2017 (De Jalong, 2017; Kompas.com, 10 April 2017).

In the midst of such discursive domination, the making good Indonesian citizenship is equally shaped by what this study refers to as non-violence-ism. The term denotes a combination of dialogue and moderation whose primacy has been narrated and become prominent as early as the 1990 (Beittinger-Lee, 2009; Madjid, 2001). While civil society—particularly in the formation of the nation’s civilised community and the strict separation between public and private spheres—was perceived as crucial for the rise of democracy, dialogue and moderation were taken as its essence. Understood as the management and organisation of different and conflicting interests into common and legally acceptable decisions, democracy was viewed as potentially emerging and being sustained if members of its polity pursued their interests by abandoning violence, by being willing to negotiate, and by being reasonable. These are attributes supposed to be attached to the image of Indonesian citizenship.

The political upheaval and economic turmoil, accompanied by violence and conflict in almost every part of Indonesia since the late 1990s, further justified the centrality of dialogue and moderation. The discourse of multiculturalism absorbed these events and rearticulated them to emphasise the importance of tolerance and respecting difference. Meanwhile, non-violence-ism is more concerned with concrete issues of dealing not only with different interests and positions but also conflicting ones. It hails a different kind of citizen, one whose substance is associated with dialogue and moderation.

Thus far, non-violence-ism seems to have had real content with reference to the ideas of civil society, civility, and later peace. Its meaning already existed two decades ago, and it has simply needed to be excavated and adapted into contemporary socio-political contexts. However, dialogue and moderation reject what this study understands as the revolutionary lower class subject, as epitomised in the aftermath of 1997–1998 monetary crisis, when the horror of uncontrolled social unrest, revolution, and riots involving lower class members seemed to have resurrected the spectre of socio-political turmoil that had led to the Indonesian Communist Party’s failed revolution in 1965 (Hiariej, 2003). Unsurprisingly, the middle-classes who feared this spectre opposed revolution, speaking of reform, thus showing willingness to negotiate with existing political elites and emphasising gradual transitions over radical breaks with the past. Since the early 2000s, the role of the significant antagonistic other has been increasingly occupied by Islamic radicalism.

Indeed, the very name “non-violence-ism” used by this study to denote dialogue and moderation could be better understood against the growing prominence of “the war on terror” as global discourse. It came into prominence after 11 September 2001, when the image of America as a free and democratic nation was shattered by a deadly attack on the World Trade Centre’s twin towers (Kompas.com, 11 March 2010). The terrorist group Al-Qaeda, which claimed responsibility for the attack, situated Islam in the centre of the war on terror. Despite attempt by world leaders to separate this religion from terrorism, the relentless reproduction of this narrative had spread fear towards Islam. This was further aggravated by a series of Islamic associated terrorist attacks as spatially diverse as London and Madrid, Mumbai and Teheran, and, certainly, Denpasar and Jakarta.

The discourse of the war on terror constructed terrorism—which was largely identified with radical Islamic groups across the globe—as a “pure evil” to be vanquished from society as its existence posed an extreme threat not only to the security of the state and society but all of humanity. Suspending legal and human rights values in this fight became justifiable and desirable. This is because their methods for achieving their goals, the very horrific acts of terrorism, rendered obsolete any notion of democracy and civility when dealing with Islamic radicalism. Non-violence-ism has been used to denounce this method and strategy, the movements’ widely celebrated jihad. It is to portray jihad as an absolute horror against humanity. Dialogue and moderation serve to negate the willingness to “kill innocent people” in the name of sacred and pristine principles.

4. Radicalised radical Muslims

Deradicalisation is a systematic attempt to denounce and hence exclude extremist ideologies and religious radicalism. More importantly, it forefronts the identity of good Indonesian citizenship. While deradicalisation tries to close down specific meanings, it is taken and filled by the radicals with their own understandings of being a normal and good Indonesian Muslim. In filling in this identity, they start to pay more attention to issues related to injustice. They become concerned with problems such as poverty and socio-economic inequality, foreign intervention, natural disasters, political representation, corruption, and cultural recognition. In this regard, good Indonesian citizenship is one that is concerned with and tries to solve problems related to injustice.

Generally, this counter-hegemonic project is also shaped by contesting discourses on rights and citizenship, economic hardship and welfare, as well as nationalism and foreign intervention. It is noteworthy that the meanings of these discourses hardly represent the true and essential identity for which these radicals fight. Their meanings are also relational, produced—and then adopted—through negation of a specific significant other, conceptualised in the radicals’ imaginations as a dominant combination of liberal-minded and affluent Indonesians. They perceive fighting for justice as a rejection of an establishment that excludes them. As touched upon above, this play of difference has led to, and revealed, a different type of radicalism among radical Islamic groups. Instead of an Islamic state and Shari’a, these Muslim radicals pay more attention to socio-political problems associated with injustice in society at large. In this, the establishment of an Islamic state and implementation of Shari’a are positioned as long-term goals. To achieve these goals, they argue, it is important to first deal with current problems of injustice. Interestingly, their preoccupation with “what is happening now”—rather than an Islamic state and Shari’a—has increasingly become the core of their radicalism.

4.1. Discourse on rights and citizenship

Among the dominant discourses filling the meaning of justice within radical Islamic groups are rights and citizenship. Justice, in this regard, refers to how citizens’ rights are respected and protected, particularly by the state. No matter how ironic the fact that they were often accused of threatening the rights of religious minorities in the country, they have taken promoting citizens’ rights as the essence of post-New Order political reform (Hasibuan & Alvian, 2017; Interview with AT, a former terrorist). Indeed, during the New Order regime, Islamist movements and activists were among the victims of the ruling regime’s harsh treatment of dissidents (Porter, 2002; Ramage, 1995; Schwarz, 2000). A significant political turn occurred in the early 1990s, as Soeharto approached this group in an attempt to cultivate alternative support. Nevertheless, this failed to cure the radicals’ traumatic experiences with being hunted-down, detained, and arrested. Such trauma seems to have been shared by the younger generation, who frequently air their concerns for rights violation. Interestingly, in the last presidential election, one of the candidates, Prabowo Subijanto, seemed to be strongly supported by this group. However, AT, once a leading figure within a radical group, expressed his doubt about Prabowo’s human rights records (fieldwork in Semarang). Referring to the kidnapping of a number of students and NGO activists near the end of Soeharto’s reign that led to Prabowo’s resignation as an active military general, he stated that:

… [S]aya masih nggak percaya [Prabowo]. Karena Prabowo ini ada track record yang kurang bagus dalam masalah hak asasi manusia. Walaupun [pelanggaran HAM] itu bukan [dilakukan] dia sendiri. Tapi dia bagian dari itu (… [I] don’t trust [Prabowo]. Prabowo has a poor track record in the issue of human rights. Although he did not directly [violate human rights], he was part of it) (AT, interview, 15 June 2013).

While the traumatic experience may have significantly implanted some elements into the radicals’ discourses on rights and citizenship, the articulation of such concerns should be better understood as being antagonistic to producing good Indonesian citizenship. This antagonism paved the way for the formation of a political frontier that has allowed radicals to make sense of who they are by largely negating—and in turn being influenced by—other hostile discourses.

The same former terrorist believed that human rights are universal. He wanted to say that every citizen, including Muslim groups—particularly radicals—must be entitled to certain rights such as right to preach Islamic teachings. However, to radicals’ dismay they are instead treated as second-class citizens, not only by the government, but also by society in general. Former combatants in Poso expressed such unfair treatments (Fieldwork in Poso, Central Sulawesi; Barron & Azca, 2012; Klinken, 2007). According to their claims, it was the Christians that began the attacks and they simply tried to defend their families and homes. Without fair trials of those responsible for the initial violence, radicals and local Muslims were forced to sign a peace agreement. They then took justice into their own hands and launched retaliatory attacks on Christian villages. The government responded by categorising them as terrorists and hunting them down, while not applying similar measures to Christians. They further felt aggrieved because they perceived post-conflict aid and development assistance as going mostly to Christian communities.

Unfair treatment in urban areas has also meant being surrounded and haunted by liberal-cum-secular spaces in the form of non-Islamic symbols and so-called places of vice—pubs, massage parlours, karaoke bars, etc. (Fieldwork in Jakarta; Hiariej, 2009). This increasingly prevalent space has been taken as marginalising the religiosity of the radicals. They justify their violent attacks against places such as massage parlours and karaoke bars as part of demanding equal space to express their (radical) Islamic identity.

Deradicalisation—in terms of the overdetermination of those three discourses previously outlined—has located radicals outside the supposedly apprehendable epistemological frame of good Indonesian citizenship. Unsurprisingly, the radicals are seen as non-existent despite their widespread presence. Even though they are recognised as citizens with certain rights and responsibilities, they face constant suspicions of hiding their real agenda—of establishing Islamic state—in their seemingly genuine statements and activities, for example, helping victims of natural disasters. The above-mentioned former terrorist leader expressed such lack of apprehension by contrasting himself with the author when talking about the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS).

… Saya menyadari karena saya bukan seperti [Anda] … ‘Kan [Anda] bukan komunitas [teroris] … Kalau saya kayak [Anda], mungkin diterima pendapat saya [tentang ISIS] (… I realise that I am not like [you] … [You] are not part of [terrorist] community, aren’t you? If I were like [you], probably my opinion [on ISIS] would be taken into consideration) (AT, interview, 15 June 2013).

4.2. Discourse on economic hardship and welfare

As previously indicated, the meaning of justice voiced by the radicals is overdetermined by a number of different discourses. The discourse on rights and citizenship seems to dominate its meaning. It has significantly absorbed and persuaded different elements of fighting against injustice into its moments. At the same time, however, such hegemony has increasingly been challenged by discourses of economic hardship and welfare. According to this discourse, justice is a matter of how current political reforms (i.e. democratisation) and economic development produce welfare and prosperity for those who need it most (fieldwork in Jakarta, Semarang, Poso and Solo). The radicals have challenged the government’s claim of successfully combatting poverty and improving economic welfare. Instead, there are moments of celebrating Soeharto’s era, which is seen as having been more successful in producing prosperity, as expressed by one activist associated with the Islamic Defenders Front (Front Pembela Islam, FPI) in Jakarta.

Jaman Pak Harto, biar utang negara banyak, tapi rakyat … gampang. Nyari duit 10 ribu [rupiah] cepat … Tapi jaman sekarang [nyari] dua ribu [rupiah] susah … (Under Soeharto, even though the state had a lot of debt, it was easy … for the people. Earning ten thousand rupiah was easy … But now it is tough [to earn] just two thousand rupiah …). (HS, interview, 30 May 2015).

The majority of radicals live under economic hardship, and it is even worse for former combatants and convicted terrorists. Not only do they lack sufficient skills, but the discursively exclusionary practices previously outlined have significantly prevented them from entering the job market (fieldwork in Jakarta, Poso and Solo). A significant number of radicals rely on government support to fulfil their material needs. However, they often must resort to coercing government officials, ironically by threatening to return to violence, to get attention or access to government projects such as infrastructure developments (interviews with a former terrorists in Jakarta and Solo and former combatants in Poso).

The radicals are not the only group who have suffered from poverty and economic hardship. In their claims, they speak not only on their behalf, but also represent the interests of those in the lower strata of the socioeconomic hierarchy (interview with a key FPI member). Clearly, radicals may accentuate their existence by associating themselves with broader society. However, during the last gubernatorial election in Jakarta, they significantly brought justice issues—poverty eradication and the economic hardship suffered by lower class communities—to the fore and challenged multiculturalism promoted by the supporters of Basuki Tjahaja Purnama. Justice and welfare in this sense served to negate multiculturalism.

It is interesting to note how radicals identify the enemy in regards to the problems of poverty and economic hardship. While deradicalisation projects accuse parochial identity such as Islamism of destabilising national unity and running against Indonesia’s multicultural society, Islamic radicals blame capitalism as the main culprit. According to the leading figure of Hizbut Tahrir Indonesia, capitalism has commodified public goods, making basic needs such as electricity, water, education, healthcare, and transportation hardly accessible to the poor (fieldwork in Jakarta). Capitalism has also paved the way, he continued, for capitalist domination to influence the government. The FPI key figure mentioned above shared similar concerns. During the interview, he frequently referred to the so-called “sembilan naga” (nine dragons), the nine largest conglomerates in Indonesia whom he believed controlled the current government. Such influence, he argued, transformed most government development projects into the promotion of capitalists’ interests and profit generation.

The most important thing, however, is how capitalism is always framed together with liberalism and secularism. Over the past two decades, the combination of these three texts has discursively formed a formidable enemy in the minds of radicals (Eliraz, 2004; Hiariej, 2009). The process of deradicalisation has only paved the way for these texts being produced not only as the enemy of Islam, but also of Indonesia. More intriguingly, these texts are largely perceived as producing specific subject positions and identities associated with groups such as the urban middle class and liberal Muslims. According to the former terrorist previously quoted, the recent pro-Pancasila hype (the state ideology) and multiculturalism campaigns are merely a mask used by these specific subjects and identities to take the public’s attention away from the problems of poverty and economic hardship as well as discrimination against radicals (fieldwork in Yogyakarta). Differently put, for Islamic radicals, to become a good Indonesian citizen, they should talk less about multiculturalism and originality of the nation and focus more on producing welfare and fairness for all of society.

4.3. Discourse on nationalism and foreign intervention

While nationalism has been among the most important discourses shaping the meaning of deradicalisation, the radicals have their own way of perceiving this term. Nationalism and foreign intervention is framed as just another contending discourse trying to occupy “the empty place” of justice/injustice pursued/denounced by Islamist groups. In general, the radicals understand nationalism in terms of being independent rather than at the service of international actors’ interests. The country must involve in international community and should focus on pursuing its own needs and preferences. Unfortunately, as one leading HTI figure, claimed:

[s]ekarang ini nasionalisme dalam pengertian membela kepentingan nasional telah koleps ([n]owadays, nationalism understood as defending national interests has collapsed) (IY, interview, 30 May 2015).

A fellow radical, a former terrorist, voiced a similar concern.

Yang kita tidak terima itu ‘kan seakan-akan [kita] merdeka, berdaulat, tapi sebenarnya [kita] ngikut kehendak asing (The thing that we can’t accept is that it looks like [we] are free, sovereign, but in reality [we] submit ourselves to foreign will) (AT, interview, 2 September 2017).

In short, the country is now in danger of being colonised by foreign power.

Traditionally, the West has been perceived as the foreign power controlling Indonesia (Eliraz, 2004; Hiariej, 2009). Over the past two decades, radicals have identified this colonising power largely with the United States. The latest generation of Islamic radicals has continued to perceive the West—especially the United States—as the most dangerous enemy. Nevertheless, they have started to seriously consider the rise of East Asian powers in the region, particularly China. They even believe that China has increasingly replaced the West and the United States as a colonising power (fieldwork in Jakarta and Yogyakarta). In so doing, the radicals have transformed the identity of “foreign enemy” from a nation-state to the global economic system. In the place of the West is capitalism, which operates its power and influence through capital invested around the globe.

Discourse on economic hardship and welfare has pointed to capitalism as the main cause of poverty and misery. The same capitalism has been adopted and rearticulated mostly as a dangerous foreign power.

The radicals provide evidence to support their claims. Again contrasting the current situation with that under Soeharto, they accuse the current administration of lacking independence in dealing with international actors. President Joko Widodo’s idea of easing access to seaports across the archipelago by building sea transportation facilities, for instance, has been poorly received. According to one HTI leading figure, this deliberately opened up Indonesian waters to foreign penetration, practically scrapping the old “Djuanda Declaration” that formally and legally holds Indonesia’s inner seas as part of national sovereignty and necessitates that they be free of foreign intervention, particularly from international capital investment (fieldwork in Jakarta). On another occasion, Widodo seemed to adopt a firm stance against such global institutions as the International Monetary Foundation and World Bank. However, at the same time, he has increasingly relied on China’s investments to fund his infrastructure projects. For one national parliament member from an Islamist party, this is not proof of sovereignty, but has demonstrated his lack of knowledge of foreign intervention and the global capital constellation (fieldwork in Jakarta).

There were still moments where the West is perceived as a dangerous enemy, specifically in the radicals’ claim that foreign powers control not only the government but also non-government actors such as artists, intellectuals, and religious leaders. The FPI key figure mentioned above claimed that these actors, most of whom graduated from institutions of higher education in the West and were exposed to Western values, form a pro-nationalist and -multicultural coalition. These persons occupying the subject positions and identities produced by the previously indicated capitalism-cum-liberal-secularism are portrayed by radicals as the least nationalist part of the country.

5. Interrogating the state

Deradicalisation has opened the path for Islamic radicals to become radicalised in a different way. Sitting at the centre of this new radicalism are the previously outlined discourses on justice. Interestingly, fighting against injustice has led them to interrogate the state, particularly its role in providing social and economic welfare and in defending poor and the marginalised groups. Interrogating the state takes the form of being critical of government policies and officials, while simultaneously entertaining the idea of engaging with the state to access its power and resources. This move was almost unheard of in the past two decades of Islamic radicalism in the Indonesia, where the state was largely portrayed as thogut, the greatest enemy of Islam.

It is important to note, as implicitly highlighted in the previous section, that radicals tend to identify themselves with oppressed and marginalised groups. They claim a shared suffering from the government’s absence. This absence is strongly felt in Poso, where the government is accused of not developing a comprehensive plan to solve conflict other than simply deploying security forces. Former combatants, who were arrested and released after serving their sentence, complained about being abandoned. As previously indicated, they have often had to turn to violence and/or threats to force the attention of the government (fieldwork in Poso). During fieldwork for this research, at least two government officials expressed concern for the government’s lack of attention. A local official in Poso identified no less than 1,000 former combatants (including a small number of Christian counterparts) who were not reached by post-conflict rehabilitation programmes. The former head of the national anti-terrorism agency argued that, while radical ideology imported from Java played a crucial role in provoking conflict in areas such as Poso and Ambon, the root cause was local anger against the government’s failure to provide them with fruitful economic development (Fieldwork in Poso and Jakarta).

Instead of being responsibly present and of dealing with problems of injustice, government officials (including the majority of political leaders) have mostly been concerned with their private interests. “Gak ada revolusi mental (There is no revolution of the mind)” (IY, interview, 30 May 2015), insisted the HTI leader, referring to the president’s current campaign to focus on the nation’s psychological needs and promote good behaviour as a basic step towards combating problems such as corruption (fieldwork in Jakarta). According to these Islamic radicals, all politicians want is to use their control of public offices to increase their personal wealth, often through illegal means (fieldwork in Jakarta, Semarang, Solo, and Poso). It is hardly surprising, thus, that they frequently comply with the interests of dominant groups, including domestic and international capital holders. The oppressed and marginalised, including the radicals, are positioned as being at the wrong end, rarely touched by social welfare measures and constantly discriminated against (Fieldwork in Jakarta, Semarang, Solo, and Poso).

Islamic radicals frequently demonstrate their critical stance in the open. Until it was disbanded in the early 2017, HTI was the leading element in launching protests against what they took as government’s inability to deal with foreign powers and international capital holders. FPI has been another main actor in publicly denouncing the harsh measures taken by governments—particularly the local government of Jakarta—against the poor (fieldwork in Jakarta). Interestingly, some radicals took a different approach. Some former combatants in Poso, for example, decided to set up a non-governmental organisation focused on monitoring the local government’s deployment of the state budget. Some FPI activists, together with other concerned groups and movements, initiated a forum call Laki Pejuang 45. Laki stands for Laskar Anti-Korupsi Indonesia (Indonesian Anti-Corruption Troops); pejuang means heroic activist; and 45 is the year of Indonesia’s independence (fieldwork in Poso and Jakarta). Nevertheless, engaging with the state has also been part of their strategy. The radicals commonly adopted two modes of engagement. First, they tried to become part of democratic governance by supporting candidates and political parties who promoted their interests as well as by supporting Shari’a-inspired local regulations (Buehler, 2016). Second, they put significant effort in accessing state resources by building personal connections with influential figures inside the government as well as other state institutions such as parliament.

6. Conclusion

Deradicalisation is a hegemonic project trying to dominate and control the meaning of good Indonesian citizenship. Investigating how Islamic radicals respond to such a process, this article has showed that deradicalisation has paved the way for this group to be radicalised in a different way. Adopting the primacy of good Indonesian citizenship, they have defined it as an alternative hegemonic project that fights against injustice. They have also interrogated and taken critical stands against the government’s policies and officials. In so doing, deradicalisation has become politically saturated and exemplified a discursive process of exclusion. Radicals have resisted such exclusion and developed their own discourses promoting justice. These two hegemonic projects have basically contested and competed with each other—but also contaminated each other—in shaping the ontological horizon known as “good Indonesian citizenship”.

At this point, and beyond the scope of this article, such power struggle could potentially be developed into a platform for democracy, understood as an organising principle of existing political forces. Democracy would treat good Indonesian citizenship as an open, temporarily completed meaning, continuously changing and shaped by power struggles. Unfortunately, each side of struggle has been dominated by a moralistic tone, as well as a perception that the other side is an illegitimate enemy. Contestation and competition have given way to extermination; one could exist only with the other’s extermination. This stalemate seems to be reflected in the current democratic regime. The fragile existence of this regime depends uneasily on the exclusion of political forces—such as radicals—who produce a meaning of good Indonesian citizenship that contrasts with that promoted by the dominant.

Additional information

Funding

The authors received no direct funding for this research.

Notes on contributors

Ali Muhammad

Ali Muhammad is a senior lecturer in International Relations at Universitas Muhammadiyah Yogyakarta (UMY), Indonesia. His research interest focuses on international relations, international security studies and terrorism studies. [email protected].

Eric Hiariej

Eric Hiariej, PhD is a senior lecturer in Political Science and International Relations at Universitas Gadjah Mada, Indonesia. His area of interests including democracy, social movements, identity politics and citizenship. [email protected]