Archive for the ‘Expert’s Articles’ Category

Ahok, Betawi, Tionghoa, Islam, dan Rasa ke-Indonesia-an Kita

February 20, 2013

Silsilah Syatariyah Baba Jainan.
Courtesy: Cod. Or. 7274 ff.3v-r of Leiden University Library

Tampilnya Basuki Tjahaja Purnama, atau Ahok, sebagai wakil Gubernur DKI Jakarta mendampingi Jokowi, mengembalikan sebagian memori saya atas sejarah warga Tionghoa keturunan Cina yang faktanya sudah mendarah daging dalam sejarah Betawi (dulu Batavia) sejak abad 17 lalu.

Mengutip Valentijn, Susan Abeyasekere (1987: 24) dalam Jakarta A History menyebut: “…if there were no Chinese here, Batavia would be very dead and deprived of many necessities…”.

Antara 1619-1740, Batavia disebut oleh Leonard Blusse (1981: 160) sebagai a Chinese colonial town under Dutch protection, mungkin saking besarnya peran warga Tionghoa dalam perekonomian kota Batavia saat itu, meski pada akhir kurun waktu tersebut ada masa kelam dalam sejarah warga Tionghoa di Batavia khususnya.

Dalam bidang politik? Mungkin memang baru kali ini seorang Tionghoa “mengadu nasib” di kampung Bang Pitung. Waktulah yang akan menentukan, apakah kelak Betawi akan berhutang budi kepada seorang Ahok, atau lewat begitu saja seperti pejabat pribumi sebelumnya.

(more…)

Recent Catalogues of Indonesian Manuscripts : A Review

December 16, 2008

Published in Bidjdragen, tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 164.2/3 2008

Sri Ratna Saktimulya (ed.), Katalog Naskah-naskah Perpustakaan Pura Pakualaman. Jakarta: Yayasan Obor Indonesia and the Toyota Foundation, 2005, xix + 314 pp. ISBN 9794615234. Paperback.

Achadiati Ikram (ed.), Katalog Naskah Palembang/Catalogue of Palembang Manuscripts. Tokyo: Centre for Documentation and Area-Transcultural Studies, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, 2004, 324 pp. ISBN 492524308X. Paperback.

M. Yusuf (ed.), Katalogus Manuskrip dan Skriptorium Minangkabau. Tokyo: Centre for Documentation and Area-Transcultural Studies, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, 2006, ix + 295 pp. ISBN 4925243209. Paperback.

Oman Fathurahman and Munawar Holil (eds), Katalog Naskah Ali Hasjmy Aceh/Catalogue of Aceh Manuscripts: Ali Hasjmy Collection. Tokyo: Centre for Documentation and Area-Transcultural Studies, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, 2007, xv + 304 pp. ISBN 4925243285. Paperback.

Dick van der Meij

Universitas Islam Negeri Syarif Hidayatullah, Jakarta

dickvdm2005@yahoo.com

Indonesian manuscript collections are scattered over libraries and museums around the globe and a good number of them have been catalogued in the past or are in the process of being catalogued.1 Manuscripts in many Indonesian public libraries and semi-public collections have also been catalogued, some of them through an extensive project funded by the Ford Foundation in the 1980s and 1990s. As for collections outside Indonesia, catalogues have in many cases been published by well-known publishers, making them easy to come by. Catalogues published in Indonesia, though, are usually available for only a short time in local bookshops and thereafter disappear from bookstore shelves forever. It is therefore advisable to purchase these catalogues as soon as they see the light.

In addition to catalogues, many small collections and at times even single manuscripts have been described in scholarly journals. Sometimes they appear in unexpected journals and are therefore in danger of escaping the notice of researchers (for instance: Yamamoto and Lingga 1990).

In the last couple of years four catalogues of semi-public and private col­lections in Java and Sumatra have been published with grants from Japan. The Pakualaman catalogue was sponsored by the Toyota Foundation, whereas the other three on Sumatran collections were sponsored by the 21st Century Centre of Excellence Programme of the Centre for Documentation and Area-Transcultural Studies of Tokyo University of Foreign Studies. It is easy to see that Indonesian catalogue productions are indeed international matters: after the Dutch took the first steps during the Dutch East Indies era and well beyond, other Europeans followed; the task was subsequently taken up by Americans, mostly through the Ford Foundation, while at present efforts are increasingly undertaken by Japanese institutions. The catalogues produced in all these projects more and more often result from intensive cooperation between Indonesian and foreign experts.

It is extremely important to have semi-public and private collections catalogued and their contents made available to a wide audience of scholars and interested students of culture and literature. Many conclusions about manuscripts and literary competencies in Indonesian areas are based on studies restricted to public manuscript collections (whether outside or inside Indonesia). These conclusions are sometimes highly speculative, as the situa­tion in which, in many areas, manuscripts are/were made and how they are/ were used is often unknown due to lack of in-depth research into the matter.

The importance of the fact that many manuscripts are kept in collections by people in their own private surroundings cannot be underestimated. Knowledge about these private collections adds enormously to our under­standing of the significance and popularity of texts now and in the past. Taking private collections into consideration adds to our quantitative knowl­edge about the materials collected and preserved in public collections.

Another issue is that browsing public collections alone may provide a distorted picture of the manuscript reality in Indonesian areas. It is very hard to tell whether or not a collection is representative of the local situation. Scholars have insufficient information at their disposal as to why people who donated their collections to public libraries themselves collected the manuscripts they had and when and how they were acquired. We also have little understanding of the purchasing dynamics of libraries and the reasons why certain manuscripts were deemed fit for acquisition and not others. It is not hard to predict what will be purchased when a library is faced with the choice between a beautifully written, probably complete manuscript and an ugly and seemingly incomplete one. Even though the second may be much more interesting for scholars than the first, few libraries will be able to resist buying the first instead of the second, especially if no in-depth research on the texts contained in them has been conducted. Personal relationships and preferences may have been more decisive in the buying process than the care­ful building up of a representative collection. In the past, when conservators of manuscripts were themselves scholars, they of course brought their own preferences to the job and tended to acquire those manuscripts they wanted to study themselves or those that reflected their scholarly tastes. Tastes and interests, however, change over time and we usually do not have adequate insight into particular purchases or, much more interesting, the number and kind of manuscripts that were rejected by individuals and institutions and therefore returned to obscurity.

Private collections abound all over Indonesia. This is the case in Bali, where manuscripts continue to be written to this day and important col­lections are preserved in the palaces and houses of nobles and high priests, not to mention smaller and larger collections belonging to other private individuals. This is also the case among the Sasak and Balinese communities in Lombok (Van der Meij 1994; 2002:166-170); in South Sulawesi among the Buginese and Makassarese (Mukhlis Paeni 2003); in Buton (Achadiati Ikram 2002); and among the various peoples of Sumatra; while on Java and Madura manuscripts in palace and private hands are preserved in great numbers as well. Unlike the situation in other parts of the world, it may very well be that in Indonesia significantly more manuscripts are privately owned rather than kept in public and semi-public collections, the most important of which are the Perpustakaan Nasional in Jakarta, Universitas Indonesia, British and other European collections, the various palaces and residences of princes and nobles in Java and Bali, and the Leiden collections, which for many Indonesians have attained legendary status.

Before going into detail about each of the catalogues under review, some remarks pertaining to all the catalogues may be useful. Firstly, all the catalogues contain many photos of manuscripts. However, why these par­ticular photos are included and not photos of other manuscripts is nowhere explained. Sometimes this leads to such questions as: on page 144 of the Palembang catalogue, why was the sword not portrayed? I was surprised to see a sword being considered a manuscript, so it would have interested me to see an illustration of it. The notion of ‘manuscript’ in this collection evidently extends to artefacts that are not usually regarded as manuscripts at all. Secondly, the physical condition of the manuscripts is described in a vari­ety of terms ranging from ‘good’ to ‘extremely bad’. Indonesian codicology needs to explain terms more carefully, and to use standardized terminology to describe physical conditions so that these may be more accurately gleaned from the description. For instance, in the Aceh catalogue, manuscripts that have been eaten by woodworm, contain holes, or have suffered wear and tear are variously called tidak terlalu baik (not too good, p. 77), kurang baik (poor, pp. 39, 43), rusak (damaged, p. 29), or rusak parah (extremely damaged, p. 16), even though the general descriptions of the condition of the manuscripts do not differ much. The Minangkabau catalogue uses slightly different vocabu­lary for this (apart from rusak, which is found in all the catalogues), such as cukup baik (reasonably good, p. 57), mulai rusak (starting to get damaged, p. 61), sangat buruk (very bad, p. 35), rusak berat (extremely damaged, p. 70), and, the most revealing designations, masih bagus (still OK, p. 80), masih cukup baik (still reasonably good, p. 73), and masih baik (still good, p. 87). By using the word masih (still), the editor seems to suggest that deterioration may happen at any time, and since the other catalogues also use the expression they evi­dently share this point of view. Curiously, the catalogue of the Pakualaman collection does not mention the condition of manuscripts at all, probably for diplomatic and deferential reasons. It is a pity, though, that the condition of the manuscripts at the palace, where one would expect standards of preserva­tion to be higher, cannot be compared to that of manuscripts preserved in far less favourable conditions.

The evaluation of the condition of a manuscript is of course subjective and may depend on one’s mood and one’s overall assessment of a collection. It may moreover change over time, as one gains more experience in a specific kind of manuscript and as one becomes more tolerant. A better idea might be to indicate the consequences of the extent of damage and deterioration in terms of the manuscript’s suitability for a possible text edition. If an indica­tion could be given of the amount of text that has become illegible or lost, a prospective editor would have some idea as to whether it is worthwhile to take the trouble of consulting the manuscript at all. A more standardized and less impressionistic assessment of condition might also be useful for restora­tion purposes and result in suggestions for improved preservation, an issue not addressed in any of the catalogues discussed here.

The editors of the Aceh catalogue seem to see a relationship between the physical condition of a manuscript and the number of empty pages found in it (for example, pp. 34, 63, 101) which I fail to see. We do not know precisely how manuscripts were made, so the empty pages may be there for a reason we do not yet grasp and may therefore have no relevance for an assessment of the manuscript’s condition. The editor of the Palembang catalogue confuses the condition of a manuscript and the loss of pages. A manuscript may be in excellent condition even though half of it is gone. And a manuscript may be crucial for an understanding of codicological and other scriptorial features while being completely worthless for a text edition.

Since collections and scriptoria have become more and more of a focus in manuscript studies, it is a pity that so little information about the owners and the way they collected their manuscripts, and how they preserve and use them, is offered in the present books. Only minimal information is provided about the scriptoria in Minangkabau and the surau (prayer houses) in which they are preserved up to the present, and information is completely lacking about the owners of the manuscripts catalogued. The fifty manuscripts found, for example, in surau Paseban in Kecamatan Koto Tangah, Kota Padang, are mentioned, but only the number of manuscripts preserved there is indicated, and none of their titles, so that the information is rather useless at this stage. The same holds for the other surau mentioned. No biographical information is given about Ali Hasjmy, even though he was himself interested in manu­scripts and wrote about Acehnese and Malay literature (for example: Hasjmy 1976, 1977,1984). He was, moreover, a member of the Pujangga Baru literary circle, and has no fewer than forty titles to his name. Information about the owners in Palembang is minimal. The Pura Pakualaman is apparently consid­ered to be so well known that no information on it is provided. I think this is a missed opportunity, and may be due to too little time spent on reflecting on the projects’ expected outcomes.

Perpustakaan Pura Pakualaman

In 1931, Ki Hadjar Dewantara wrote the following about literature and the literary tradition in the Pakualaman court:

If up to now the general public has been left unaware of this beautiful tradition, this has to be understood, in my view, as reflecting the high level of religious de­votion among the people belonging to the Pakualaman court. They would have considered it profane to publish the texts passed down to them, and none would have dared to take responsibility for this.2

Apparently the people of the Pakualaman palace have subsequently shed their shyness, and opened up their literary heritage for the benefit of the interested public.3

When Girardet (1983) inventoried the manuscripts in the library of the Pakualaman palace in Yogyakarta in the 1980s, he encountered 195 manu­scripts. The present catalogue of the same collection contains not 195, but 251 manuscripts, since many that were in the hands of the extended Pakualaman family have since been deposited in the library. However, other manuscripts he found have not been rediscovered and are therefore not included in the present catalogue, the material for which was assembled between December 2002 and November 2003. This phenomenon – a listed manuscript that is no longer to be found in a private or semi-public collection – is a recurrent one in Indonesia. It is usually seen as negative (as if outsiders have any right to make demands on private collections to begin with!), but I suggest viewing it from a different angle. Perhaps the manuscript is not lost at all, but was not present in the collection at the time the catalogue was compiled because it was being used. This would point to a continuation of a living text tradition, and should therefore be viewed positively.

In the catalogue the manuscripts have been categorized as follows: Babad (historical and legendary texts), Islam, Piwulang (suluk and texts containing lessons and instruction), Primbon (divination), Sastra (stories derived from Islamic and pre-Islamic times), and Lain-lain (others, including texts on dance and music, customs and language, and so on). The catalogue follows a tested scheme and mentions title, shelf number, language and script, prose or poetry, number of pages and lines per page, dimensions, and writing materi­als used. If a manuscript contains a poetic text, the names of the verse forms and the first two lines of each verse form are provided. Each description also offers a summary of the content, and information about the time of writing and the history of the manuscript, if available.

The catalogue is a sound piece of work, offers photos of stunningly beautiful manuscripts, and provides researchers with the initial information required for planning a future study. It also gives a useful overview of the contents of the collection as a whole. What is unfortunately lacking is some information about how the collection was put together over the years.

The C-DATS-TUFS catalogues

The three catalogues that follow are the result of projects by the Centre for Documentation and Area-Transcultural Studies of the Tokyo University of Foreign Studies (C-DATS-TUFS), founded in 2002. TUFS has the largest collection of historical materials in Asian and African languages in Japan. It aspires to collect and preserve materials in Asian and African languages and to make them available to the whole world through computer networks. In preparing catalogues of Indonesian collections it cooperates with the Yayasan Naskah Nusantara (YANASSA) and the Masyarakat Naskah Nusantara (MAN ASS A). Apart from cataloguing efforts, the manuscripts are also digitalized. The website (www.tufs.ac.jp/21coe/area) mentions that the digitalization has resulted in 175 CD-ROMS. In addition to the Indonesian title, the catalogues have also been provided with an English title, even though the books are written in Indonesian without accompanying English translation.

Katalog Naskah Palembang

This is the first catalogue to be published in the framework of the C-DATS-TUFS projects. Its main editor is Achadiati Ikram, one of Indonesia’s outstanding philologists and chairperson of YANASSA. In this project she was assisted by no fewer than thirteen people, all of whom are involved in manuscript studies at various universities and at the Indonesian National Library.

The catalogue proper is preceded by an introduction that mentions that the core team members of the project visited Palembang in July 2003 to con­sult the collections that had been selected for inclusion in the project before their arrival. Apparently more collections are available than the ones chosen. What other collections there are and why some collections were chosen and not others are not explained, unfortunately.

The book gives some information about the individuals who own the man­uscripts. Three of them are related to descendants of the Palembang Sultans; one of them, R.H. Mas Syafei Prabu Diraja, is the inheritor of the Sultanate. Owners of religious manuscripts are usually of Arab descent, work as religious instructors (guru mengaji), and have very few resources to properly store man­uscripts. The names and addresses of thirteen owners are mentioned, leaving the reader to imagine who the others – who are only referred to as ‘lain-lain’, ‘others’ – might be. This is followed by brief information on the personalities and collections of ten of the thirteen individuals. Unfortunately, here again, the reader is left to wonder who the others are and what their collections are about. Some photos showing how manuscripts are stored, and portraits of thirteen of the owners, enliven the catalogue and provide the collections with a human face: manuscripts are human-made and human-owned.

For each manuscript is listed: title, language and script, prose or poetry, number of pages and number of lines per page, dimensions, and kind of paper used. Each manuscript has been given two codes. One code indicates the collection and the number of the manuscript in that collection. The manu­scripts are not listed by owner but rather by category. The second code thus starts with an abbreviation of the category of the manuscript, the number in that category, and an abbreviation of the name of the owner. Seventeen cate­gories have been used: Astronomi (astronomy, As), Bahasa (language, Bh), Doa (prayers, Do), Fikih (jurisprudence, Fk), Hadis (Hadith, Hd), Hikayat (prose fiction, Hk), Ilmu Kalam (theology, IK), Lain-lain (others, LL), Obat-Obatan (medicine, OB), Primbon (divination, Pr), Qur’an (Qr), Sejarah (history, Sj), Silsilah (genealogy, SI), Surat (letters, Sy), Syair (poetry, Sr), Tasawuf (Sufism, Ts), and Wayang (shadow theatre, Wy). In the catalogue individual letters have been treated as full manuscripts. Because of this rather complicated system, putting together the collections of each individual owner is a puzzle, since no lists are provided of manuscripts preserved in the same collection. This makes the catalogue inconvenient for scholars interested in collections rather than in specific manuscripts.

The last part of the introduction deals with writers, scribes and scriptoria and is a useful place to start. As with so many writing traditions in the archi­pelago, we still have enormous gaps in our knowledge, so that any informa­tion is welcome.

Katalogus manuskrip dan skriptorium Minangkabau

In West Sumatra there are still hundreds of manuscripts in private hands, and no fewer than 26 private and semi-private collections are catalogued in this book. Some general information about ownership and ways of transmission is provided.

Previously it was thought that the literary tradition of Minangkabau was overwhelmingly oral and that there were only 371 extant manuscripts, which were kept in Europe (mainly in Leiden) and in the Indonesian National Library (p. 3), and that no others existed. In the present book 280 more manuscripts have been added to that number, letters being regarded as full manuscripts. Most of the letters are in the possession of private individuals, whereas other manuscripts are usually owned by descendants of princely families in the Minangkabau area. The manuscripts are usually written by people connected to prayer houses or by teachers of mystic brotherhoods, tarekat (p. 21). The manuscripts in the collections catalogued are overwhelm­ingly of an Islamic nature (90 per cent of them are in the hands of religious teachers and prayer houses of mystic brotherhoods, p. 21) and the manu­scripts have been categorized as follows: Qur’an, Tafsir Qur’an (Quranic exe­gesis), Kitab Tasaufdan Tauhid (Sufism and doctrine of the unity of God), Fiqih (jurisprudence), Undang-undang (Tambo Adat) Minangkabau (Minangkabau laws and regulations), Sejarah dan Silsilah (history and genealogy), Surat-surat (letters), Perobatan, Adzimat, dan Ramalan (medicine, amulets and divination), Bahasa Arab (Arabic language), and Khotbah (sermons). Apparently, nowadays manuscripts of a religious nature are seldom opened again, whereas letters and lists of genealogies still are, and the number of people still engaged in copying and writing manuscripts can be counted on the fingers of one hand.

Photos of Surau Paseban, Surau Bintungan Tinggi, Surau Batang Kapet, and the Istana Made Rubiah di Lunang are included, in addition to a very long manuscript from Inderapura and its owner. Many manuscripts have been photographed as well, and many photos illustrate the descriptions. Unfortunately, there are no photos of the owners.

The listing of manuscripts uses a numbering system devised specifi­cally for this catalogue. The numbers contain the code MM for Manuskrip Minangkabau, a code for the classification of the manuscripts as mentioned above, the name of the owner, and a number indicating the place of the man­uscript in the collection. For each manuscript is given: title, content, owner, scribe, colophon, watermark, and the beginning and end of the text.

Katalog naskah All Hasjmy Aceh

If the Leiden collections are legendary among Indonesians, it is safe to say that the collection put together by Prof. Tengku H. Ali Hasjmy (1914-1998) is legendary among Acehnese. The collection is preserved in the Yayasan Pendidikan dan Museum Ali Hasjmy (YPAH) in Banda Aceh. 314 manuscripts were collected in a very short time, between 1992 and 1995 (p. vii).

The editors’ introduction discusses the effect the 26 December 2004 earth­quake and subsequent tsunami had on the manuscript collections preserved in Aceh. The collections of the Pusat Dokumentasi dan Informasi Aceh (PDIA) and the Balai Kajian Sejarah dan Nilai Tradisional and those kept in private col­lections in the area destroyed by the tsunami were completely and irretriev­ably lost. This means that the collections of the Museum Negeri Propinsi and the YPAH are still extant. How many manuscripts were lost due to this single catastrophic event is anyone’s guess, but I fear they are many. This tragic event shows clearly and unequivocally that manuscripts are vulnerable. Certainly a large part of the written Acehnese tradition has been lost.

As a result of the tsunami, the TUFS Aceh Project for the Preservation of Cultural Heritage was set up in March 2005 to catalogue private collections of manuscripts in Aceh which were not easily accessible to a wider public. The present catalogue is the first catalogue of Acehnese manuscripts to see the light and others are planned.

The manuscripts are categorized as follows: Qur’an, Hadis, Tafsir (exege­sis), Tauhid (doctrine of God’s unity), Fikih (jurisprudence), Tasawuf (Sufism), Tatabahasa (grammar), Zikir dan Doa (prayers), Hikayat (prose fiction), and Lain-lain (others), and are grouped in this way in the catalogue. The intro­duction is excellent and provides a detailed description of how the catalogue was put together. The information provided for each manuscript is: title, shelf number, language, number of pages, kind of paper used, prose or poetry, dimensions, and number of lines per page. Information on condition and authorship is sometimes given, and for a number of manuscripts content summaries are added. The book ends with photos of the late Mr Ali Hasjmy and his institute.

One thing I find curious is unfortunately not explained. All the manu­scripts have been assigned a new code to replace the code they had in the YPAH. Why? In general I am not in favour of replacing an existing number­ing system. It usually gives rise to enormous problems of identification, for instance, when numbers are lost in the manuscript for whatever reason, when lists of old numbers and corresponding new ones are lost, or when the new numbers do not adequately match up with the old numbering system. This has been catastrophic, for instance, for the collection in the Museum NTB (Nusa Tenggara Barat) in Ampenan-Mataram, Lombok, and there are other instances as well. Luckily, in the present catalogue, both numbers have been included so that matching should not be a problem. In the case of the YPAH collection, many manuscripts apparently had no number at all (curiously, none of the Quranic ones had) and it would be interesting to know why.

Another point of interest not addressed is how the collection was acquired. The editors note that most of the manuscripts are of a religious nature, but may this perhaps simply be due to the fact that Mr Hasjmy was more inter­ested in those? The reader is left with many questions unanswered, whereas answers might have been found if the right questions had been posed during the investigative part of the cataloguing process.

Jajat Burhanudin provided the chapter ‘Naskah dan Tradisi Intelektual-Keagamaan di Aceh’ (‘Manuscripts and the religio-intellectual tradition in Aceh’). It is a useful initial introduction, but I fear he has downplayed the role of fiction and other texts in favour of those of a religious character. I cannot believe that the entire Acehnese literary corpus was solely Islamic inspired, which is more or less suggested here. Much more research is needed to understand the exact nature of this literary tradition.

Conclusion

The catalogues reviewed here are useful and beautifully produced tools for further research in philology, codicology, and of course textual studies. They show admirably that many manuscripts are still ‘out there’ and that the knowledge we have of collections, collectors, and scriptoria is still in its infancy. If similar catalogues of manuscripts in private hands in Bali and Lombok, for instance, were to be compiled, they would need to be printed in multiple volumes, because thousands and thousands of manuscripts in hundreds and hundreds of collections are there waiting to be covered. For Bali alone, we need only think of the valuable information provided in the transliterations of Balinese manuscripts in the famous ‘Proyek Tik’ collection initiated by C. Hooykaas and continued by Hedi Hinzler in close cooperation with the late I Gusti Ngurah Ketut Sangka and presently with I Dewa Cede Catra. The number of collections and owners covered in this project is astounding, yet it forms only a small part of the collections existing on the island. It makes one ponder once more the richness of Indonesia’s literary traditions.

The descriptions of the manuscripts are interesting for a number of rea­sons apart from the obvious ones. They reveal the way manuscripts are treat­ed and preserved, and indicate most alarmingly that many of the manuscripts are seriously damaged or otherwise in very poor condition and are preserved in unfavourable circumstances. This means that action is needed to ensure that the manuscripts survive. Edwin Wieringa’s remark, in the introduction to the Aceh catalogue (p. v), that the next step should be to photograph the manuscripts in their entirety is therefore pertinent and ought to be taken up by the Indonesian and international community as a priority. However, in all our efforts to catalogue, preserve and conserve manuscripts, we should not forget to edit, translate, and explain them as well. This too should be a prior­ity for the Indonesian and international communities.

The fact that in the compilation of these catalogues many local scholars, from Universitas Gadjah Mada Yogyakarta, Universitas Sriwijaya (Palembang), Universitas Andalas (Padang, Minangkabau), IAIN Imam Bonjol (Padang, Minangkabau) and LAIN Al-Raniri (Aceh), cooperated with scholars from the Universitas Indonesia and the Pusat Pengkajian Islam dan Masyarakat (PPIM) Universitas Islam Negeri Syarif Hidayarullah, and from MANASSA and YANASSA, offers hope for increasing understanding and appreciation of the Indonesian scriptural heritage, and for future text editions.

References

Chambert-Loir, Henri and Oman Fathurahman

1999 Khazanah naskah; Panduan koleksi naskah Indonesia sedunia/World guide to
Indonesian manuscript collections. Jakarta: Yayasan Obor Indonesia and
EFEO.

Dewantara, Ki Hadjar

1967 ‘Beoefening van letteren en kunst in het Pakoealamsche geslacht’, in:
Karya Ki Hadjar Dewantara, bagian II A: Kebudajaan. Jogjakarta: Madjelis-
Luhur Persatuan Taman-Siswa.

Girardet, N.

1983 Descriptive catalogue of the Javanese manuscripts and printed books in the
main libraries ofSurakarta and ‘Yogyakarta. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner.

Hasjmy, A.

1976 Syarah Ruba’i Hamzah Fansuri oleh Syamsuddin al-Sumatrani. Kuala Lum­
pur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka.

1977 Apa sebab rakyat Aceh sanggup berperang puluhan tahun melawan agressi
Belanda. Jakarta: Bulan Bintang. [Edition of the Acehnese Syair Perang
Sabil.]

1984 ‘Hamzah Fansuri sastrawan Sufi abad XVII’, in: Abdul Hadi W.M. and
L.K. Ara (eds), Hamzah Fansuri penyair Sufi Aceh; Buku peringatan Malam
Hamzah Fansuri 22 Ogos di Taman Ismail Marzuki, pp. 5-11. Jakarta: Lot-
kala.

Ikram, Achadiati

2002 Katalog naskah Buton koleksi Abdul Mulku Zahari. Jakarta: Manassa.

Meij, Th.C. van der

1994 Troyek pendataan/pemetaan keberadaan naskah Lontar Lombok; Gen­
eral report’. Unpublished report for the Indonesian National Library.

2002 Puspakrema; A Javanese romance from Lombok. Leiden: Research School of

Asian, African, and Amerindian Studies, Universiteit Leiden. Mukhlis Paeni

2003 Katalog induk naskah-naskah Nusantara: Sulawesi Selatan. Jakarta: Arsip

Nasional.

Yamamoto, Haruki, and Andareas S. Lingga
1990 ‘Catalogue of the Batak manuscripts in the Simalungun Museum’, Nam-

po-Bunka; Tenri Bulletin of South Asian Studies 17 (November):l-18.

Notes

1 For a detailed overview of collections of Indonesian manuscripts in the world, see Chamber-Loir and Fathurahman 1999.

2 Dewantara 1967:284. Translated from the Dutch; originally published in an anniversary bro­chure dedicated to H.H. Kangjeng Gusti Pangeran Adipati Arya Paku Alam VII.

3 The present catalogue does not describe all the manuscripts belonging to the Pakualaman library. The reasons for selecting some for cataloguing, and not others, are not mentioned.

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Tuanku Imam Bonjol: Dikenang Sekaligus Digugat

November 26, 2007

*Catatan: Versi pendek artikel ini dimuat di harian Kompas, 10 November 2007.

Suryadi

Instead, Tuanku Imam Bonjol is remembered, a man who was ultimately a military failure, who was ideologically disillusioned, and for whom a shift from violent action to conciliatory discourse was rewarded with exile and misery (Jeffrey Hadler).

Sepanjang 62 tahun kemerdekaan Indonesia, nama Tuanku Imam Bonjol (TIB) hadir di ruang publik bangsa ini—sebagai nama jalan di banyak kota, nama stadion, nama universitas, bahkan di lembaran 5000-an rupiah keluaran Bank Indonesia 6 November 2001 (lihat ilustrasi). TIB (1772-1864), yang diangkat sebagai pahlawan nasional berdasarkan Surat Keputusan Presiden Republik Indonesia No.087/TK/Tahun 1973, tanggal 6 November 1973, adalah salah seorang pemimpin utama Perang Paderi di Sumatra Barat (1803-1837) yang gigih melawan kolonialis Belanda.

Namun, baru-baru ini muncul petisi yang menggugat gelar kepahlawanan TIB. (more…)

Tuanku Imam Bonjol: Dikenang Sekaligus Digugat

November 26, 2007

*Catatan: Versi pendek artikel ini dimuat di harian Kompas, 10 November 2007.

Suryadi

Instead, Tuanku Imam Bonjol is remembered, a man who was ultimately a military failure, who was ideologically disillusioned, and for whom a shift from violent action to conciliatory discourse was rewarded with exile and misery (Jeffrey Hadler).

Sepanjang 62 tahun kemerdekaan Indonesia, nama Tuanku Imam Bonjol (TIB) hadir di ruang publik bangsa ini—sebagai nama jalan di banyak kota, nama stadion, nama universitas, bahkan di lembaran 5000-an rupiah keluaran Bank Indonesia 6 November 2001 (lihat ilustrasi). TIB (1772-1864), yang diangkat sebagai pahlawan nasional berdasarkan Surat Keputusan Presiden Republik Indonesia No.087/TK/Tahun 1973, tanggal 6 November 1973, adalah salah seorang pemimpin utama Perang Paderi di Sumatra Barat (1803-1837) yang gigih melawan kolonialis Belanda.

Namun, baru-baru ini muncul petisi yang menggugat gelar kepahlawanan TIB. Menurut petisi itu sosok TIB tak layak jadi Pahlawan Nasional Indonesia. Beliau dituduh melanggar hak azasi manusia (HAM) karena pasukan Paderi menginvasi Tanah Batak (1816-1833) yang menewaskan “jutaan” orang di daerah itu (lihat di sini; dikunjungi 18 November 2007). Kekejaman Kaum Paderi disorot lagi dengan diterbitkannya kembali buku M.O. Parlindungan, Pongkinangolngolan Sinamabela Gelar Tuanku Rao: Teror Agama Islam Mazhab Hambali di Tanah Batak, 1816-1833 (2006) (edisi pertama terbit 1964, yang telah dikritisi oleh Hamka, 1974), menyusul kemudian karya Basyral Hamidy Harahap, Greget Tuanku Rao (2007). Kedua penulisnya, yang kebetulan berasal dari Tanah Batak, menceritakan penderitaan nenek moyang mereka dan orang Batak pada umumnya selama serangan tentara Paderi antara 1816-1833 di daerah Mandailing, Bakkara, Angkola, Sipirok, Padang Lawas, dan sekitarnya (Tempo edisi 34/36/15-21 Oktober 2007).

Mitos Kepahlawanan
Munculnya koreksi terhadap wacana sejarah Indonesia belakangan ini, yang juga mencuatkan kritisisme terhadap konsep pahlawan nasional, seharusnya menjadi renungan semua komponen bangsa. Kaum intelektual dan akademis, khususnya sejarawan, adalah pihak yang paling bertanggung jawab jika evaluasi wacana historis itu hanya akan mengakibatkan munculnya friksi di tingkat dasar (masyarakat umum) yang berpotensi memecah-belah bangsa ini.

Ujung pena kaum akademis harus tajam, tapi teks-teks hasil torehannya seyogianya tidak mengandung ‘hawa panas’. Itulah sebabnya dalam tradisi akademis, kata-kata yang bernuansa subjektif dalam teks ilmiah – yang sayangnya diumbar tanpa kontrol dalam buku M.O. Parlidungan (2006 [1964]) – mesti disingkirkan sekuat tenaga oleh para penulis akademis. Kaum akademis dan intelektual adalah palang pintu terakhir untuk menjaga keutuhan bangsa ini di tengah langkanya politikus dan birokrat kita yang layak dijadikan panutan.

Setiap generasi berhak menafsirkan sejarah- (bangsa)nya sendiri. Namun, generasi baru bangsa ini—yang hidup dalam imaji globalisme—harus menyadari juga bahwa negara-bangsa (nation-state) apapun di dunia ini memerlukan mitos-mitos pengukuhan (myth of concern). Sebuah mitos pengukuhan tidaklah buruk. Ia adalah unsur penting yang di-ada-kan sebagai “lem perekat” bangsa. Sosok pahlawan nasional seperti Pangeran Diponegoro, Sultan Hasanuddin, Sisingamangaraja XII,…., juga TIB, adalah bagian dari mitos pengukuhan bangsa Indonesia.

Jeffrey Hadler dalam “An History of Violence and Secular State in Indonesia: Tuanku Imam Bondjol and Uses of History” (akan terbit dalam Journal of Asian Studies, 2008) menunjukkan, kepahlawanan TIB telah dibentuk sejak awal kemerdekaan hingga zaman Orde Baru, dan hal itu setidaknya terkait tiga kepentingan:

Pertama, menciptakan mitos tokoh hero yang gigih melawan Belanda sebagai bagian wacana historis pemersatu bangsa.

Kedua, mengeliminasi wacana radikalisme Islam dalam upaya menciptakan negara-bangsa yang toleran terhadap keragaman agama dan budaya.

Ketiga
, “merangkul” kembali etnis Minang ke haribaan Indonesia yang telah mendapat stigma negatif dalam pandangan pusat akibat peristiwa PRRI (Pemerintahan Revolusioner Republik Indonesia).

Kita tak yakin, sudah adakah biji zarah keindonesiaan di zaman perjuangan TIB dan tokoh lokal lain yang hidup sezaman dengannya, yang kini dikenal sebagai pahlawan nasional.

Kita juga tahu bahwa pada zaman itu perbudakan adalah bagian dari sistem sosial dan beberapa kerajaan tradisional Nusantara melakukan ekspansi teritorial dengan menyerang beberapa kerajaan tetangganya. Para pemimpin lokal berperang melawan Belanda karena didorong semangat kedaerahan, bahkan mungkin dilatarbelakangi keinginan untuk mempertahankan hegemoni sebagai penguasa yang mendapat saingan akibat kedatangan bangsa Barat. Namun, mereka akhirnya menjadi pahlawan nasional karena bangsa memerlukan mitos pemersatu.

Bukan Manusia Sempurna
Tak dapat dimungkiri bahwa Perang Paderi telah meninggalkan kenangan heroik sekaligus traumatik dalam memori kolektif bangsa Indonesia. Selama kurang lebih 20 tahun pertama perang itu (1803-1821) praktis yang saling berbunuhan adalah sesama saudara sendiri—antara sesama orang Minangkabau dan orang Mandailing atau Batak pada umumnya.

Campur tangan Belanda dalam perang itu ditandai dengan penyerangan Simawang dan Sulit Air oleh pasukan Kapten Goffinet dan Kapten Dienema pada awal April 1821 atas perintah Residen James du Puy di Padang. Kompeni melibatkan diri dalam perang itu karena ‘diundang’ oleh Kaum Adat.

Pada 21 Februari 1821 Kaum Adat secara resmi menyerahkan wilayah Luhak Nan Tigo (darek) kepada Belanda yang bersedia membantu mereka memerangi Kaum Paderi. Perjanjian itu diadakan di Padang di bawah sumpah menjunjung al-Qur’an dan disaksikan oleh Panglima Padang, Sutan Raja Mansyur Alamsyah, dan wakilnya, Tuanku Bandaro Rajo Johan (Rusli Amran, Sumatra Barat hingga Plakat Panjang. Jakarta: Sinar Harapan, 1981, hlm. 409). Ikut ‘mengundang’ sisa keluarga Dinasti Pagaruyung di bawah pimpinan Sultan Muningsyah yang selamat dari pembunuhan oleh pasukan Paderi yang dipimpin oleh Tuanku Pasaman di Koto Tangah, dekat Batu Sangkar, pada 1815—bukan 1803 seperti disebutkan oleh Parlindungan, 2007:136-41—(H.M.Lange, Het Nederlandsch Oost-Indisch leger ter Westkust van Sumatra (1819-1845). ‘s Hertogenbosch: Gebroeder Muller,1852: I, hlm. 20-1).

Pada 25 April Sulit Air jauh ke tangan Kompeni setelah mereka sendiri menderita kerugian besar. “Aldus begon onze oorlog met de Padries” (Dengan demikian, peperangan kita dengan Kaum Paderi telah dimulai), demikian tulis seorang opsir Belanda yang tidak menyebutkan namanya (lihat: anonim, “Episoden uit geschiedenis der Nederlandsche krigsverrigtingen op Sumatra’s Westkus”, Indisch Magazijn 12/1, no.7, 1844:116).

Namun, sejak awal 1833, perang itu berubah menjadi perang antara Kaum Adat dan Kaum Agama melawan Belanda. Memorie Tuanku Imam Bonjol (MTIB)—lihat transliterasinya oleh Sjafnir Aboe Nain (Padang: PPIM, 2004), sebuah sumber pribumi yang penting mengenai Perang Paderi yang cenderung diabaikan para sejarawan selama ini—mencatat bagaimana kedua pihak bahu-membahu melawan Belanda. Pihak-pihak yang dulunya bertentangan akhirnya bersatu melawan musuh bersama: Kompeni Belanda. Di ujung penyesalan muncul kesadaran bahwa mengundang Kompeni ke dalam konflik itu telah semakin menyengsarakan masyarakat Minangkabau sendiri.

Di dalam MTIB terefleksi rasa penyesalan TIB atas tindakan Kaum Paderi terhadap sesama orang Minang dan Mandailing. TIB sadar bahwa perjuangannya sudah melenceng dari ajaran agama. “Adapun hukum Kitabullah banyaklah yang terlampau dek oleh kita. Bagaimana pikiran kita?” (Adapun banyak hukum Kitabullah yang sudah terlangkahi oleh kita. Bagaimana pikiran kalian?), demikian tulis TIB dalam MTIB (hlm.39).

Sadar akan kekeliruan itu, TIB lalu mengirim kemenakannya, Fakih Muhammad, dan Tuanku Tambusai ke Mekah untuk belajar mengenai “kitabullah nan adil” (Hukum Kitabullah yang sebenarnya). Ikut juga kemenakan Tuanku Rao bernama Pakih Sialu, dan Kemenakan Tuanku Kadi (salah seorang rekan TIB) bernama Pakih Malano (MTIB, hlm. 36-40). Kemudian keempat orang itu pulang membawa berita yang kurang menggembirakan: Gerakan Wahabi di Mekah ternyata sudah dikalahkan dan yang berkembang di sana justru Islam yang lebih moderat. Oleh karenanya ide Haji Miskin yang telah membuat sesama orang Minangkabau dan tetangga Bataknya berbunuh-bunuhan telah invalid atau kadaluarsa.

MITB (hlm. 53-55) selanjutnya mencatat bahwa setelah itu TIB kelihatan ingin lengser dari kepemimpinan Gerakan Paderi. Dalam sebuah rapat di Mesjid Bonjol TIB berkata kepada para hakim dan penghulu bahwa beliau ingin mengundurkan diri. TIB juga menginstruksikan supaya mengembalikan harta rampasan dan para tawanan perang. Namun rakyat yang sudah menganggap beliau sebagai pemimpin mereka mengharapkan TIB tetap memimpin perjuangan.

Tampaknya berita yang dibawa oleh Fakih Muhammad dan Tuanku Tambusai dari Mekah telah mempengaruhi semangat TIB, yang pada gilirannya ikut menentukan akhir Perang Paderi. Narasi dalam MTIB memberikan kesan bahwa TIB menyesal telah menjerumuskan rakyat Minangkabau dalam perang berdarah. Sekarang, dengan keterlibatan Belanda dengan persenjataannya yang lebih modern, perang itu telah sampai ke tahap yang paling kritis, yang kalau dilanjutkan hanya akan memakan korban orang Minangkabau lebih banyak lagi. TIB berada dalam dilemma. Ketika TIB menerima surat dari Kolonel Elout yang meminta Bonjol menyerah tanpa syarat, muncul perpecahan di kalangan pemimpin Paderi di benteng itu. Ada yang suka menyerah dan berdamai dengan Kompeni. Yang lain, seperti Datuk Sati, ingin melanjutkan peperangan. TIB sedih melihat perpecahan itu dan beliau serta keluarganya sempat mundur ke Lubuk Sikaping (MTIB, hlm. 61-4).

Pada 16 Agustus 1837 Benteng Bonjol berhasil direbut Kompeni setelah dikepung selama 6 bulan. Sebelum benteng itu jatuh, TIB dan keluarganya dibawa pergi oleh pengikut setianya masuk rimba. Proses pengepungan Benteng Bonjol pada bulan-bulan terakhir sebelum jatuh dicatat dengan detil, dilengkapi ilustrasi, oleh Kapten de Salis yang ikut dalam pasukan Mayor Jendral Cochius dalam “Journaal van de expeditie naar Padang onder de Generaal-Majoor Cochius in 1837 gehouden door de Majoor Sous-Chief van den Generaal-Staf Jonkher C.P.A. de Salis”, yang diterbitkan bersama tiga sumber pertama lainnya dalam buku Gerke Teitler, Het einde Padri Oorlog: Het beleg en de vermeestering van Bondjol 1834-1837: Een bronnenpublicatie [Akhir Perang Paderi. Pengepungan dan Perampasan Bonjol 1834-1837; Sebuah Publikasi Sumber]. Amsterdam: De Bataafsche Leeuw, 2004), hlm.59-183.

Setelah ada jaminan dari Kolonel Elout bahwa penduduk Bonjol akan dihormati, TIB lalu menyerahkan diri kepada pasukan Kompeni. Ia menghadap Kapten Steinmetz di Bukittinggi, yang kemudian mengirimnya ke Padang. Sesampai di Padang, kapal yang akan membawa beliau ke tanah pembuangan telah lego jangkar di Pulau Cingkuk. Gubernur Francis tak memberi kesempatan kepada TIB untuk sekedar mengambil pakaian pengganti. Kapal berlayar menuju Jawa: TIB tinggal di Cianjur, sebelum kemudian dipindahkan ke Ambon, selanjutnya ke Menado di mana beliau wafat pada 1864.

Api peperangan di Minangakabau belum sepenuhnya padam ketika TIB berlayar ke tanah pembuangan. Sisa pasukan Paderi yang tidak mau menyerah kepada Kompeni melanjutkan perjuangan. Begitu Bonjol direbut Kompeni, pasukan Eropa dan prajurit pribuminya sudah langsung melakukan tindakan yang membuat orang Bonjol berang dan merasa terhina: tentara Kompeni dan pasukan Jawanya mengubah “mesjid jadi tangsi tempat serdadu diam dan dibawanya anjing dan membikin kotor sajo [saja; Suryadi] di dalam mesjid”. Tentara Kompeni juga mengambil dari penduduk segala bahan makanan yang mereka perlukan tanpa mau membayar, dan menyuruh orang bekerja mengangkat segala perlatan militernya tanpa diberi upah. Pada puncak kemarahan orang Bonjol, mesjid itu diserang oleh penduduk yang mengakibatkan banyak kematian di antara 139 tentara Kompeni yang bermarkas di sana (MITB, hlm.69-70). Rupanya Kompeni tidak menepati janjinya untuk menghormati adat dan agama penduduk Bonjol, sebagaimana diminta oleh TIB kepada Kolonel Elout sebelum beliau menyerahkan diri.

Penyesalan TIB itu, dan perjuangan heroik beliau bersama pengikutinya melawan Belanda yang mengepung Bonjol dari segala jurusan selama kurang lebih enam bulan (16 Maret – 17 Agustus 1837)—seperti dilaporkan rinci oleh De Salis (op cit.)— mungkin dapat dijadikan pertimbangan untuk memberi maaf bagi kesalahan dan kekhilafan yang telah diperbuat TIB.

Dalam bukunya, Greget Tuanku Rao (Jakarta: Komunitas Bambu, 2007), Basyral Hamidi Harahap mempertanyakan kadar patriotisme TIB [dan Tuanku Tambusai] yang telah ditetapkan oleh Pemerintah Republik Indonesia sebagai Pahlawan Nasional.

Kita bertanya di manakah jiwa kepahlawanan seorang yang telah banyak membunuh, menculik kaum perempuan untuk dijual sebagai budak atau dijadikan gundik di kalangan bangsa sendiri? […] Apakah seorang yang […] tidak [mampu] mempertahankan tanah tumpah darah sampai titik darah penghabisan […] dan menginjak-injak harkat dan martabat bangsa sendiri pantas menjadi pahlawan? […] Seorang patriot sejati, sekalipun terpojok pastilah tetap berjuang mempertahankan bumi persada sampai titik darah penghabisan. Tetapi yang dilakukan Tuanku Imam Bonjol adalah ikut merekayasa penyerahan dirinya kepada Belanda (Harahap 2007:106).

Jadi, menurut interpretasi Basyral, TIB merekayasa penyerahan dirinya sendiri kepada Belanda. Ia menganggap TIB tidak patriotis.

Namun, berbeda dengan Basyral, Jeffrey Hadler—seperti terefleksi dalam kutipan di awal tulisan ini—mencoba ‘membaca’ lebih dalam dilemma psikologis yang dialami TIB lebih 170 tahun yang lalu. Apalagi yang membuat seorang pemimpin agama menjadi lemah tulang persendiannya apabila akhirnya sadar bahwa semua yang telah dilakukannya ternyata telah menyalahi dogma-dogma agama yang begitu diyakininya selama ini, dan bahwa jika ia tetap ngotot dengan prinsipnya, maka hal itu hanya akan menumpahkan lebih banyak lagi darah bangsanya sendiri. Memang agak sulit untuk menilai dari jarak lebih satu setengah abad kemudian apakah tindakan TIB itu tidak patriotis atau malah bijaksana.

Dalam pengungsiannya selama kurang-lebih empat bulan dalam rimba di luar Bonjol, bersama TIB dan keluarganya ikut delapan orang Jawa, sementara antara sesama orang Minang sendiri bersibak paham dalam menghadapi Belanda (MTIB, hlm. 151-53). Episode akhir Perang Paderi penuh dengan kisah tragis sekaligus mengharukan. Akan kita lihat nanti apakah sutradara film kolosal mengenai TIB yang akan diproduksi PT. Salsa Cemerlang Abadi Film (Republika, 27 Oktober 2007) mampu merefeksikan konflik batin yang dialami TIB itu? Perang, dimanapun terjadinya di dunia ini, adalah ranah dimana kelembutan hati dan kebengisan jiwa makhluk yang bernama manusia sering menampakkan wujudnya secara berbarengan. Mungkin karena itulah perang sering dikenang sekaligus dikutuk, dan untuk itulah monumen-menumen didirikan.

MTIB, menurut Hadler, merefleksikan […] the Tuanku’s [TIB] renunciation of Wahhabism in the face of matriarchal opposition […]”.

In his memoir the Tuanku Imam’s will to fight his fellow Minangkabau crumbles when he learns that Wahhabi teachings have been discredited. In an act of great moral bravery the Tuanku publicly renounces his ideology, makes reparations, and apologizes for the suffering his war has caused. In his memoir Imam Bonjol’s enemies respond formulaically, looking to him as a patron. But there remains some ambiguity and even anger in their reported language. They demand that the Tuanku Imam replace their elders, people likely killed by the Padri in their war against traditional authority, and it unclear whether the Tuanku Imam is to appoint replacements or to personally take the place of the people he was responsible for killing. In his wish for peace the Tuanku uses the term dituahnya. This is a form of royal blessing usually delivered by the sorts of nobles that the Padri had hoped to eliminate. The Tuanku Imam restores the status quo ante bellum, confining religious authority to matters of shariah and allowing customary leaders to adjudicate social issues. He proclaims that ‘adat basandi syarak”—hariah will be fundamental, even in questions of social custom (Hadler, op cit.: 1, 16-17).

Seorang tokoh seperti TIB muncul, eksis, dan kemudian ‘runtuh’ oleh kombinasi antara keinginan, takdir, dan kehendak zaman. Ada yang menganggap beliau telah “berkhianat pada Kerajaan Islam Minangkabau Pagaruyung, […] memimpin invasi ke Tanah Batak yang menewaskan” banyak orang, “[…] menyerang Kerajaan Batak Bakkara dan menewaskan Sisingamangaraja X”, seperti yang dituduhkan si pembuat petisi yang telah disebutkan di atas. Tapi mungkin ada juga yang melihat beliau, yang dalam MTIB menunjukkan rasa penyesalan, sebagai ikon perlawanan masyarakat Minangkabau yang belakangan baru sadar akan buruknya akibat yang ditimbulkan oleh penjajahan Belanda di negeri mereka.

Sejarah adalah cermin perbandingan dan iktibar. Dengan mempelajari dan mengenang peristiwa-peristiwa masa lalu, baik dan buruk, manusia dapat memetik hikmah supaya mereka dapat menata hidupnya yang lebih baik di masa depan. Dalam konteks perjuangan dan kesilapan yang dialami TIB dalam hidupnya, kiranya relevan penulis kutipkan di sini kata-kata intelektual Minang, Prof. Dr. Bahder Djohan:

Tiada hadjat kita akan mengembang kitab tambo jang ditoelis dengan darah itoe [Perang Paderi; Suryadi], tiada bermaksoed kita akan menoeroeti djedjaknja sendjata api jang bertahoen-tahoen lamanja itoe bergemoeroeh didalam lembah dan dataran [Minangkabau], hanja disini kita mengenangkan sedikit meréka-meréka jang bertjahaja sebentar didalam zaman Paderi, jang seperti sinar dilangit meroepakan [memperlihatkan; Suryadi] diri dimata kita jang sedang memandangi koeblat jang hidjau itoe soepaja dapatlah poela kita mengetahoeï[,] masja allah, jang terdjadi diabad jang lepas, jang selama-lamanja akan mendjadi ‘ibarat kesesatan kemanoesiaan (Djohan, “Zaman Paderi”, Jong Sumatra, No.1, 2de Jrg., 15 Djanuari 1919: 113).

Di hari-hari terakhirnya di Minangkabau, TIB diusung di atas tandu oleh rakyat dalam perjalanannya dari Bukittinggi ke Padang menuju tanah pembuangan (MTIB, hlm.176-78). Walau sudah dalam tawanan Belanda keyakinan agama TIB tak goyah: “Jikalau tidak boleh berhenti sembahyang apa gunanya hidup, lebih baik mati”, demikian kata beliau kepada tentara Belanda yang melarangnya berhenti untuk shalat Zuhur ketika tandu usungan sampai di Kayu Tanam (MTIB hlm.176).

Kini terserah kepada Bangsa Indonesia—bangsa-bangsa lain jelas tak ambil pusing—apakah TIB akan tetap ditempatkan atau diturunkan dari “tandu kepahlawanan nasional” yang telah “diarak” oleh generasi-gerasi terdahulu bangsa ini dalam kolektif memori mereka.

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Suryadi
Dosen dan peneliti pada Opleiding Talen en Culturen van Zuidoost-Azië en Oceanië, Universiteit Leiden, Belanda

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A Brief Mapping of Islamic Education in Indonesia

November 22, 2007

Photo caption: a student in Pesantren Haurkuning, Tasikmalaya, West Java, is learning how to present a speech, while the Kyai looks at him.

Jamhari and Jajat Burhanudin
PPIM UIN Jakarta

The recent development of Indonesian Islam indicates that Islamic educational institutions survive amidst changes within Muslim communities. Pesantren, the oldest Islamic educational institution, is evidence of this. Pesantren, madrasah, and Islamic schools continue to grow and parental interest in sending their children to Islamic education institution is even stronger today than in the past.
(more…)

A Brief Mapping of Islamic Education in Indonesia

November 22, 2007

Photo caption: a student in Pesantren Haurkuning, Tasikmalaya, West Java, is learning how to present a speech, while the Kyai looks at him.

Jamhari and Jajat Burhanudin
PPIM UIN Jakarta

The recent development of Indonesian Islam indicates that Islamic educational institutions survive amidst changes within Muslim communities. Pesantren, the oldest Islamic educational institution, is evidence of this. Pesantren, madrasah, and Islamic schools continue to grow and parental interest in sending their children to Islamic education institution is even stronger today than in the past.

Data from the Department of Religious Affairs shows a steady increase in the number of pesantren and students enrolled in them. In 1977, there were 4,195 pesantren with 677,384 students. This number skyrocketed in 1981 with pesantren numbering 5,661 with a total of 938,397 students. In 1985, this number increased to 6,239 pesantren with 1,084,801 students. In 1997, the Department reported 9,388 pesantren a total of 1,770,768 students. And finally, 2003-04, the number of pesantren reached 14,647. A similar trend is also evident with madrasah.

Madrasah, managed by the Department of Religious Affairs, also experienced rapid quality and quantity development. Development trends are also evident in Islamic schools. For example, Al-Azhar School in Jakarta, Insan Cendikia and Madania in West Java, and Mutahhari in Bandung have grown significantly in urban regions of the country. Similar developments are also found in Yogyakarta, Surabaya, and Makassar.

These data raise some important questions concerning the development and survival of Islamic educational institutions, as well as their changing roles amid transitions taking place in the Muslim community. Islamic educational institutions face complex challenges. They not only strive to educate Muslims in religious knowledge, but are also expected to participate in creating a new socio-cultural and political system of Indonesia. Based on the characteristics of Islamic educational institutions, there are at least four types of Islamic educational institutions: (1) NU-based Islamic boarding schools, (2) modern Islamic boarding schools whose orientation are Islamic reformism, (3) independent pesantrens, and (4) Islamic schools.

NU-based Pesantren
Strong waves of Islamic education reform, which occurred along with Islamic reformism, touched pesantren. While maintaining the traditional aspects of the education system, a number of pesantren in Java have, at the same time, begun to adopt the madrasah system. The experience of Pesantren Tebuireng Jombang East Java is important to note. Founded by a charismatic and outstanding ulama of the 20th century, Kyai Hasyim Asy’ari (1871–1947), Pesantren Tebuireng set the model for pesantren and ulama, especially in Java. Almost all of the important pesantren in Java have been founded by disciples of Kyai Hasim Asy’ari, therefore following the Tebuireng model. Together with the NU, which he founded in 1926, Kyai Hasyim had a central and strategic position in the legacies of ulama in Java. As such, he is known as the Hadratus Syaikh (Big Master) for ulama in Java.

Attempts to reform the educational system of pesantren began during the 1930s. The NU-based pesantren adopted the madrasah system by opening a six-grade system consisting of a preparatory grade for one year followed by a madrasah grade for six additional years. Furthermore the pesantren also included non-Islamic sciences in its curriculum such as Dutch language, history, geography, and math. This process continued as the pesantren was managed by his son Kyai Abdul Wahid Hasyim (1914– 53), whose concerns were to bring the legacies of pesantren into modernity. During the 1950s, he made madrasah system the main model of education in Tebuireng.

Tebuireng was not the only pesantren to make changes to its system. Pesantren Krapyak of Yogyakarta also became part of the reformist movement in the early 20th century. Kyai Ali Maksum (1915–89), the founder and the pesantren leader of Krapyak was recognized as a figure with a “modernist spirit.” Like Kyai Wahid Hasyim of Tebuireng, he also combined the madrasah into pesantren systems. In addition, Pesantren Tambak Beras and Pesantren Rejoso, both in Jombang, also adopted reformist agenda by implementing the madrasah system by introducing non-Islamic knowledge into their curriculum.

It can be concluded that, along with socio-religious changes following modernization and Islamic reformism, the transformation of Islamic education became a part of general discourse within Indonesian Islam at the beginning of the 20th century. The pesantren ulama, strictly holding the traditional legacies of Islam, gradually transformed the educational sytem by adopting the modern system of madrasahs. In addition, the main orientation of pesantren also changed form a focus on producing ulama. Instead, like other modern Muslim groups, the learning system of Pesantren Tebuireng is directed toward a larger agenda, “to educate students to be able to develop themselves to be ‘intellectual ulama’ (ulama mastering secular knowledge) and ‘ulama intellectual’ (scholars mastering secular as well as religious knowledge.”

This type of pesantren, culturally based on the NU tradition, has been growing steadily and can be found in almost every city in Java. In West Sumatra, this type of pesantren is affiliated with Perti (Persatuan Tarbiyah Islamiyah), a kaum tua-affiliated organization like the NU in Java. In Lombok, West Nusa Tenggara, the position of NU is assumed by the local Nahdhatul Watan (NW). Like NU and Perti, NW has become the cultural bases for traditional Islamic education institutions in Lombok as well as religious bases in the region. Similarly, As’adiyah in South Sulawesi has also played an important role like that of NU in Java, NW in NTB, and Perti in West Sumatra.

Modern Pesantren
In the history of Islamic education in Indonesia, this type of pesantren is said to be the first institution to create the principles for reforming Islamic education within the pesantren system. Pesantren Darussalam Gontor Ponorogo, founded on September 20, 1926 by three brothers (KH. Ahmad Sahal, KH. Zainuddin Fannani, and KH. Imam Zarkasyi) was the first modern pesantren designed to provide education able to respond to challenges faced by the Muslim community amidst changes in the socio-cultural life in Indonesia in the modern-day period.

Pesantren Gontor was founded during a period of important development for Indonesian Muslims. Forced by modernization by the Dutch colonial government (also known as “ethical politics”) and affected by changes in international networks centering Islamic reformism in Cairo, Egypt, Islamic education in Indonesia underwent fundamental changes. These changes were evident in the emergence of new Islamic educational institutions, especially those established by the first modern Muslim organization, Muhammadiyah, that adopted a modern system aimed at reforming the traditional educational system. As such, Islamic educational institutions became important parts of the Islamic reformism movement since the early 20th century.

In addition to introducing a new system and learning method—grade system, textbook, and non-religious subjects in the curriculum—pesantren also functioned as the medium to disseminate the ideas of Islamic reformism. It became the basis of creating new Muslims familiar with the spirit of modernism and progress, which had become a dominant discourse in Indonesia. Here the socio and religious dimension of madrasah can be clearly identified. Different from the type of pesantren that only provided classical religious learning and a kyai-centric system, madrasah provided a new religious perspective to respond to modernity. Unlike pesantren which functioned as the fabric of the ulama, madrasah were designed to create the so-called “learning Muslims.”

It is by this design that the foundation of Pesantren Gontor can be explained. It aimed to create new Muslims who could master either religious or secular knowledge as well as various life skills needed by the changing community. Since its inception, Gontor identified itself as a modern educational institution in contrast to a traditional pesantren which had been plagued with stagnancy and ineffective educational management. Imam Zarkasyi, one of Gontor’s founding fathers, saw that modern pesantren should apply freedom of thought, effective and efficient management, and adopt modern idea of progress (kemajuan) as well as modern devices. Like most Muslim reformers, he emphasized the need for madhab flexibility, which without would sometimes lead to stagnancy.

One aspect of this modernization can be seen in the system of Kulliyat al-Muallimin al-Islamiyah (KMI), a secondary grade system consisting of a six-year duration (equivalent to secondary and high schools). This KMI system is a combination of madrasah and pesantren systems. This combination is a result of Zarkasyi’s experiences in Pesantren Manbaul Ulum Solo, Sumatera Thawalib Padang Panjang, and Normal Islam School (also called KMI) and as founder and director of Kweekschool Muhammadiyah in Padang Sidempuan. In the classroom, students study and learn just like students of madrasah and other public schools do. However, outside of the classroom, students engage in various activities such as organization training, life skills, arts, sports, and scouting.

This concept of modern pesantren became the blueprint as a number of his students spread across the country established similar pesantren, usually called “the Alumni’s Pesantren” (meaning Gontor Alumni), named after the second generation who influenced the pesantren model in the next wave of development. From 1970–80, a number of Gontor alumni founded pesantren within their home regions. For example, Pesantren Daar El-Qalam Gintung Balaraja in Banten, Pesantren Al-Amin Prenduan Sumenep in Madura, and Pesantren Pabelan in Central Java, among many others.

Independent Pesantren
A new trend has recently emerged in Indonesia in the context of the development of pesantren and, to some extent, madrasah. This new trend is the presence of pesantren and madrasah that are independent in the sense that they have no affiliation with any Muslim mass organization. Instead, they are based largely on Salafi ideological beliefs.

It is difficult to know precisely when this new trend emerged. Even so, it is believed that the presence of independent pesantren and schools are closely related to the rise of Salafism in Indonesia in the 1980s. During this period, the advent and influence of Salafism can be identified with the emergence of so-called usroh groups. From a religious doctrine perspective, these groups follow the earlier Salafi figures such as Ahmad ibn Hambal and Ibn Taymiyah whose ideas were absorbed and developed by later figures such as Hasan al-Banna and Sayyid Qutb through Ikhwan al-Muslimin in Egypt and Abu al-A’la al-Mawdudi through Jema’at Islami in the India sub-continent. The doctrines of Salafism as developed by these figures have become the main reference for these groups.

To give an example, Pesantren Hidayatullah is based on contextualization of Salafi religious beliefs. This fact (to be demonstrated in the following section of statistical analysis) can be seen in the teachings developed by Ustadz Abdullah Said who created the idea of Muslim community (jemaah Islamiyah) (community who implements Islamic values in a comprehensive manner). Jemaah, in the context of the Islamic movement is frequently paralleled with hizb (party) and harakah (movement), although the concept of jemaah is used more widely than the other two. It is very frequently understood as a Muslim community more superior than others and as one claiming that the only solution they have is the correct one.

Another important characteristic of this group is the model of literal interpretation toward religious texts. As a result, they have a distinct physical appearance. For instance, males wear ghamis (an Arab garment for men) and have long beards, while females wear jilbab and veil, covering all parts of their bodies except for the eyes and hands. According to Islamic teaching, females are not allowed to show their bodies except to their husbands.

In Indonesia these groups have interestingly emerged in prominent public universities such Universitas Indonesia (UI), Institut Pertanian Bogor (IPB), Universitas Gadjah Mada (UGM), and Institut Teknologi Bandung (ITB). However, in Islamic universities such as State Islamic Institutes/Universities (UIN/IAIN), they are hardly found. After the fall of Suharto, groups calling themselves Lembaga Dakwah Kampus (LDK) began to emerge in predominantly Muslim universities. Their movement has become an important social and religious movement in Indonesia. At the political level, these groups gave support for the Partai Keadilan Sejahtera (Welfare Justice Party, PKS), one of the leading Muslim-based parties in Indonesia.

Islamic Schools
In essence, the system and organization of Islamic schools is similar to public schools (although most of them necessitate being a Muslim as a requirement from students) with an emphasis on Islamic moral conduct. As such, these schools can be categorized as “public school plus.” This means that religious courses on Islamic history, Islamic jurisprudence, or Islamic theology are not the main subjects of the curriculum like that of pesantren and of most madrasah. Instead, there is an emphasis on how religion can inspire good moral conduct in the daily lives of the students.

Islamic schools were created to cater to the Muslim middle class in urban areas. These schools are equipped with good facilities such as air-conditioned classrooms, libraries, labs, and computer facilities. As a modern institution, these schools are administered by professionals in management as well as curriculum development. Teachers, staff, and managers are recruited in a competitive and professional manner by considering their skills and competency levels.

Yayasan Pesantren Islam (YPI) Al-Azhar, founded on April 7, 1952, is one of the best examples of Islamic schools. As of 2004, Al-Azhar has managed as many as 78 schools from kindergarten to high school, spread over several provinces including Jakarta, Banten, West Java, and East Java. In 2002, YPI founded a university named Universitas Al-Azhar Indonesia (UAI).

In addition to Al-Azhar, other independent schools oriented toward science and technology include SMU Insan Cendikia in Banten and Gorontalo in Sulawesi. These schools were founded in 1996 by a number of scientists mostly affiliated with the Commission for Research, Development and Application of Technology (BPPT) under the Ministry of Research and Technology through the Science and Technology Equity Program (STEP) for schools within pesantren.

During its development, Islamic schools have grown not only in Jakarta but also in other large cities throughout Indonesia. For example, in West Sumatra there exists Kompleks Perguruan Serambi Mekkah in Padang Panjang which is supported by members of PKS party. This “PKS’s model of Islamic schools develop its own characteristic by giving more emphasis on Science and Technology. In terms of religious orientation, it seems that PKS’s model of Islamic schools follows “moderate salafism.” Although PKS is closer to Salafism, it differs with radical salafism like FPI (Islamic Defense Front).

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Kontroversi Kaum Paderi: Jika Bukan Karena Tuanku Nan Renceh

November 16, 2007

Keterangan foto: Benteng Fort de Kock di Bukittinggi (1826). Seorang panglima Paderi dengan pedang dan al-Qur’an dalam kantong kain yang digantungkan di leher mengawasi benteng itu dari kejauhan.

Sumber: H.J.J.L. Ridder de Stuers, De vestiging en uitbreiding den Nederlanders ter Westkust van Sumatra, Deel 1, Amsterdam: P.N. van Kampen, 1849: menghadap hlm. 92

Oleh Suryadi

Masyarakat Minangkabau masa lampau pernah merasakan pengalaman pahit akibat radikalisme agama. Di awal abad ke-19, demikian catatan sejarah, dekadensi moral masyarakat Minang sudah tahap lampu merah. Golongan ulama kemudian melancarkan gerakan kembali ke syariat, membasmi bid’ah dan khurafat. Mereka melakukannya dengan pendekatan persuasif melalui dakwah dan pengajian. Namun, kemudian muncullah seorang yang radikal dan militan di antara mereka: ia bersama pengikutnya memilih jalan kekerasan. Akibatnya, pertumpahan darah antara sesama orang Minangkabau tak terhindarkan, yang menorehkan lembaran hitam dalam sejarah Minangkabau. Siapa lagi ulama yang radikal itu kalau bukan Tuanku Nan Renceh.
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Kontroversi Kaum Paderi: Jika Bukan Karena Tuanku Nan Renceh

November 16, 2007

Keterangan foto: Benteng Fort de Kock di Bukittinggi (1826). Seorang panglima Paderi dengan pedang dan al-Qur’an dalam kantong kain yang digantungkan di leher mengawasi benteng itu dari kejauhan.

Sumber: H.J.J.L. Ridder de Stuers, De vestiging en uitbreiding den Nederlanders ter Westkust van Sumatra, Deel 1, Amsterdam: P.N. van Kampen, 1849: menghadap hlm. 92

Oleh Suryadi

Masyarakat Minangkabau masa lampau pernah merasakan pengalaman pahit akibat radikalisme agama. Di awal abad ke-19, demikian catatan sejarah, dekadensi moral masyarakat Minang sudah tahap lampu merah. Golongan ulama kemudian melancarkan gerakan kembali ke syariat, membasmi bid’ah dan khurafat. Mereka melakukannya dengan pendekatan persuasif melalui dakwah dan pengajian. Namun, kemudian muncullah seorang yang radikal dan militan di antara mereka: ia bersama pengikutnya memilih jalan kekerasan. Akibatnya, pertumpahan darah antara sesama orang Minangkabau tak terhindarkan, yang menorehkan lembaran hitam dalam sejarah Minangkabau. Siapa lagi ulama yang radikal itu kalau bukan Tuanku Nan Renceh.

Ingat nama Tuanku Nan Renceh, ingat pada Perang Paderi. Dialah panglima Paderi yang paling militan dan ditakuti. Sosoknya tidak sejelas namanya yang sudah begitu sering disebut dalam buku-buku sejarah. Tak banyak data historis mengenai dirinya. Hanya ada catatan-catatan fragmentris yang terserak di sana-sini. Tulisan ini mencoba merekonstruksi sosok Tuanku Nan Renceh berdasarkan berbagai catatan tersebut, baik yang berasal dari sumber asing (Belanda) maupun dari sumber pribumi sendiri.

Tuanku Nan Renceh berasal dari Kamang Ilia, Luhak Agam. Kurang jelas kapan persisnya ia dilahirkan, tapi pasti dalam paruh kedua tahun 1870-an. Tak ada catatan historis mengenai masa mudanya. Namun, sedikit banyak dapat direkonstruksi melalui satu sumber pribumi, yaitu Surat Keterangan Syekh Jalaluddin (SKSJ) karangan Fakih Saghir, salah seorang ulama Paderi dari golongan moderat (lihat transliterasi SKSJ oleh E. Ulrich Kratz dan Adriyetti Amir: Surat Keterangan Syeikh Jalaluddin Karangan Fakih Saghir. Kuala Lumpur: DBP, 2002).

Menurut SKSJ (yang ditulis sebelum tahun 1829), di masa remaja Tuanku Nan Renceh, di darek (pedalaman Minangkabau) muncul seorang lama berpengaruh, yaitu Tuanku Nan Tuo di Koto Tuo, Ampat Angkat. Banyak orang belajar agama kepadanya, yang datang dari berbagai nagari di Minangkabau, termasuk pemuda (Tuanku) Nan Renceh. Murid-murid Tuanku Nan Tuo yang sebaya dengan Tuanku nan Renceh antara lain Fakih Saghir. Mangaraja Onggang Parlindungan dalam bukunya yang kontroversial, Tuanku Rao ([Djakarta]: Tandjung Pengharapan, [1964]:129) mengatakan bahwa Tuanku Nan Renceh juga belajar agama Islam ke Ulakan.

Tahun-tahun terakhir abad ke-18 Tuanku Nan Renceh sudah aktif berdakwah bersama sahabatnya, Fakih Saghir. Mereka “berhimpun…dalam masjid Kota Hambalau di nagari Canduang Kota Lawas” (Kratz & Amir: 23). Mereka telah berdakwah selama empat tahun lamanya sebelum kemudian Haji Miskin (salah seorang pencetus Gerakan Paderi) pulang dari Mekah pada tahun 1803 (ibid.:25). Berarti, paling tidak Tuanku Nan Renceh, yang waktu itu masih seorang ulama muda, sudah aktif berdakwah sejak tahun 1799, beberapa tahun sebelum gerakan Paderi resmi dimulai oleh Haji Miskin, Haji Sumaniak, dan Haji Piobang.

Tampaknya bintang Tuanku Nan Renceh cepat bersinar, dan itu karena satu hal: sikapnya yang sangat radikal dan militan. Ia segera melibatkan diri sepenuh hati dan jiwa ke dalam Gerakan Paderi. Ini mungkin karena berita tentang Negeri Mekah yang didengarnya dari tiga haji yang baru pulang dari sana. Tak ada bukti bahwa Tuanku Nan Renceh pernah menginjakkan kaki di Tanah Suci. Tapi sudah biasa terjadi dalam soal Islam bahwa pendengar jadi lebih fanatik daripada yang mengalami sendiri pergi ke Mekah.

Di awal tahun 1820-an Tuanku Nan Renceh sudah menjadi salah seorang komandan perang Kaum Paderi yang menguasai lima nagari, yaitu Kamang, Bukik, Salo, Magek, dan Kota Baru. Ia dan pasukannya sangat ditakuti: bila mereka menyerang suatu nagari dapat dipastikan bahwa nagari itu menderita. Tarup (lumbung padi) dan rumah dibakar, penduduk yang melawan dibunuh atau ditawan. Fakih Saghir dalam SKSJ menggambarkan aksi bengis pasukan Tuanku Nan Renceh ketika menyerang nagari Tilatang: “Maka sampailah habis nagari Tilatang dan banyaklah [orang] berpindah dalam nagari; dan sukar menghinggakan ribu laksa rampasan, dan orang terbunuh dan tertawan lalu kepada terjual, dan [wanita] dijadikannya gundi’nya [gundiknya]”. Yang melakukan perbuatan kejam itu kebanyakan pengikut Tuanku Nan Renceh dari Salo, Magek, dan Kota Baru, sehingga pihak lawan menghina mereka dengan istilah “kerbau yang tiga kandang” (Kratz & Amir: 37), sebab perbuatan mereka dianggap sudah sama dengan perilaku binatang.

Fakih Saghir menyebutkan bahwa Tuanku Nan Renceh “kecil tubuhnya” (Kratz & Amir: 24), yang memang bersesuaian dengan namanya (kata Minang renceh berarti kecil, lincah, dan bersemangat). H.A. Steijn Parvé dalam “De secte der Padaries in de Padangsche Bovenlanden” (Indisch Magazijn [selanjutnya IM]1, 1e Twaalftal, No.4:21-40) menyebutkan bahwa Tuanku Nan Renceh bertubuh kecil, kurus, bertabiat beringasan, dan memiliki sinar mata yang berapi-api—cerminan dari sifat radikal dan keras hatinya. Pakaiannya mungkin seperti pakaian kebanyakan pengikut Paderi, seperti yang dideskripsikan oleh P.J. Veth dalam “De Geschiedenis van Sumatra,” (De Gids 10e Jrg., Januarij: 1850, hal. 21), Thomas Stamford Raffles dalam Memoir of of the Life and the Public Services of Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles editan Lady Sofia Raffles (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1991 [reprinted ed.]: 349-50), atau sketsa visual oleh [E.] Francis dalam “Korte Beschrijving van het Nederlandsch Grondgebied ter Westkust Sumatra 1837” (Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsch-Indië [selanjutnya TNI] 2-1, 1839: 28-45, 90-111, 131-154, hal. [141]): rambut dicukur, jenggot dipanjangkan, tasbih dan pedang selalu jadi ‘pakaian’, sorban dan jubah panjang hingga bawah lutut berwarna putih, membawa Al-Quran yang ditaruh dalam kantong merah yang digatungkan di leher (ini hanya khusus buat ulama/panglima Paderi) (lihat ilustrasi).

Tak ada riwayat apapun tentang keluarga Tuanku Nan Renceh. Nama kecilnya juga tidak diketahui. Hanya ada sedikit kisah tragis bahwa ia memulai jihadnya dengan cara sadis: ia menyuruh bunuh bibinya sendiri—menurut Mangaraja Onggang Parlindungan (op cit.:134) ibu Tuanku Nan Renceh sendiri yang bergelar “orang kaya” (urang kayo)—yang tidak mau mengikuti perintahnya berhenti makan sirih, yang dianggap kebiasaan yang tidak sesuai dengan Islam. Mayatnya tidak dikuburkan tapi dibuang ke hutan karena dianggap kafir (lihat: Muhamad Radjab, Perang Paderi di Sumatera Barat (1803-1838), Djakarta: Perpustakaan Perguruan Kementerian P.P. dan K., 1954:18-19; Christine Dobbin, Kebangkitan Islam dan Ekonomi Petani yang Sedang Berubah: Sumatra Tengah 1784-1847, terj. Lilian D. Tedjasudhana. Jakarta INIS, 1992: 158). Dengan begitu, Tuanku Nan Renceh cepat mendapat pengikut dari mereka yang berjiwa militan.

Naskah SKSJ mencatat bahwa akhirnya Tuanku Nan Renceh memusuhi Tuanku Nan Tuo yang tetap memegang sikap moderat dalam memperjuangan cita-cita Gerakan Paderi. Tuanku Nan Tuo mengecam cara-cara di luar peri kemanusiaan yang dilakukan oleh Tuanku Nan Renceh dan pengikutnya terhadap penduduk nagari-nagari yang mereka taklukkan. Tuanku Nan Renceh menghina ulama kharismatik yang dituakan di darek itu dengan menyebutnya sebagai “rahib tua” dan Fakih Saghir, sahabat dan bekas teman seperguruannya, digelarinya “Raja Kafir” dan “Raja Yazid” (Kratz & Amir: 41).

Perpecahan di kalangan pemimpin Paderi tak terelakkan: Tuanku Nan Renceh membentuk kelompok sendiri yang terkenal dengan sebutan “Harimau Nan Salapan” yang militan, yaitu Tuanku di Kubu Sanang, Tuanku di Ladang Lawas, Tuanku di Padang Luar, Tuanku di Galuang, Tuanku di Kota Hambalau, Tuanku di Lubuk Aur, Tuanku di Bansa dan Tuanku Nan Renceh sendiri (Kratz & Amir: 39). Mereka memisahkan diri dari Tuanku Nan Tuo dan mencari patron (imam besar) yang baru, yaitu Tuanku di Mansiang. Tuanku Nan Renceh dan pengikutnya pun beberapa kali berusaha membunuh Tuanku Nan Tuo. Ia menganggap mantan gurunya itu menghalang-halangi tujuannya dan terus-menerus mengeritik jalan radikal yang ditempuhnya bersama pengikutnya. Namun, seperti diceritakan Fakih Saghir dalam SKSJ, upaya pembunuhan itu gagal.

Seperti diuraikan oleh seorang penulis berinisial v.D.H. dalam artikelnya “Oorsprong der Padaries (Eene secte op de Westkust van Sumatra)” (TNI 1.I, 1838: 113-132), Tuanku Nan Renceh dan pengikutnya yang militan kemudian menjadi lebih terkenal, meredupkan pamor kelompok moderat (Tuanku Nan Tuo dan pengikutnya). Dalam tahun 1820-an, pengikut golongan radikal itu makin banyak di Luhak Nan Tigo. Mereka mewajibkan kaum lelaki memelihara jenggot, yang mencukurnya didenda 2 suku [1 suku = 0,5 Gulden); memotong gigi didenda seekor kerbau; lutut terbuka didenda 2 suku; wanita yang tidak pakai burka didenda 3 suku; memukul anak didenda 2 suku; menjual/mengkonsumsi tembakau didenda 5 suku; memanjangkan kuku, jari dipotong; merentekan uang didenda 5 shilling; meninggalkan shalat pertama kali didenda 5 suku, jika mengulanginya dihukum mati (lihat: B.d., “De Padries op Sumatra”, IM 2e Twaalftal, No. 5&6, 1845 [1827]:167-180, hal.172).

Tuanku Nan Renceh dan pengikutnya menjadi momok besar bagi masyarakat Minang waktu itu, khususnya Kaum Adat. Semakin meluasnya pengaruh faksi radikal Kaum Paderi yang dibidani oleh Tuanku Nan Renceh telah mendorong Kaum Adat minta bantuan kepada Belanda. Pada 21 Februari 1821 mereka resmi menyerahkan wilayah darek kepada Kompeni dalam perjanjian yang ditandatangani di Padang, sebagai kompensasi kepada Belanda yang bersedia membantu melawan kaum Paderi. Ikut “mengundang” sisa keluarga Dinasti Pagaruyung di bawah pimpinan Sultan Muningsyah yang selamat dari pembunuhan oleh pasukan Paderi yang dipimpin Tuanku Pasaman di Koto Tangah, dekat Batu Sangkar, pada 1815.

Namun saya tidak menemukan data sejarah yang menunjukkan bahwa Tuanku Nan Renceh pernah berhadapan langsung dengan Belanda di medan pertempuran. Dalam penyerangan ke Kamang pada 1822 Belanda hanya berhadapan dengan pasukan Paderi yang dipimpin oleh Tuanku Nan Gapuak. Catatan-catatan fragmentaris dalam dokumentasi Belanda terhadap Tuanku Nan Renceh lebih didasarkan atas cerita-cerita orang Minang sendiri, bukan dari pertemuan langsung dengan panglima Paderi itu. Harap dicatat bahwa apa yang terjadi di pedalaman Minangkabau tetap masih gelap bagi orang Eropa sampai akhirnya Thomas Stamford Raffles berkunjung ke Pagaruyung pada 16-30 Juli 1818. Sebelumnya, orang Inggris dan Belanda di pantai memang mendengar ada perseteruan antarsesama orang Minang di pedalaman, tapi mereka hanya dapat kabar berita dari para pedagang yang pergi ke pantai tanpa menyaksikan sendiri dengan mata-kepala mereka apa sesungguhnya yang terjadi di pedalaman. Mungkin karena itu pula sampai akhir hayatnya, sosok Tuanku Nan Renceh tetap lebih banyak mengandung misteri, sebab tak banyak sumber Belanda yang mencatatnya.

[Vigelius] dalam “Fragmenten eener beschrijving van Sumatra’s Westkust.” (TNI 13.II, Afl.7, 1851: 7-16, hal.11) dan E. Francis dalam Herinneringen uit den levensloop van een ‘Indish’ Ambtenaar van 1815 tot 1851, Vol.3 (Batavia: H.M. van Dorp, 1859, hal. 73) mengatakan bahwa Tuanku Nan Renceh wafat tahun 1832 di ‘Medjang’, sebuah desa dalam wilayah Laras Bukit, Luhak Agam (mungkin yang dimaksud adalah desa Mejan di Kamang). Menurut Naskah Tuanku Imam Bonjol, Tuanku Nan Renceh wafat karena sakit: “Kemudian daripada itu maka tersebut pula perkataan [berita; Suryadi] Tuanku Nan Renceh dapat sakit. Dengan takdir Allah taala tidak berapa lamanya dalam sakit itu dan berpulanglah [ia] ke rahmatullah adanya” (Naskah hal.58 dalam Sjafnir Aboe Nain [tansliterator], Tuanku Imam Bonjol. Padang: PPIM, 2004, hal. 48). Pada tahun wafatnya Tuanku Nan Renceh, pusat Gerakan Paderi sudah pindah ke Bonjol, dengan pemimpin utamanya Tuanku Imam Bonjol, salah seorang panglima Paderi yang ‘dibesarkan’ oleh Tuanku Nan Renceh sendiri.

Tahun-tahun berikutnya Benteng Bonjol dikepung Belanda, hingga akhirnya jatuh pada 17 Agustus 1837. Sumber-sumber pertama (bronnen) yang mencatat pengepungan itu pada tahun-tahun terakhir sebelum Bonjol jatuh dapat dibaca dalam karya Gerke Teitler, Het einde Padri Oorlog: het beleg en de vermeestering van Bondjol 1834-1837: een bronnenpublicatie [Akhir Perang Paderi. Pengepungan dan Perampasan Bonjol 1834-1837; sebuah publikasi sumber]. Amsterdam: De Bataafsche Leeuw, 2004). Di dalam buku itu antara lain terdapat “Journaal van de expeditie naar Padang onder de Generaal-Majoor Cochius in 1837 Gehouden door de Majoor Sous-Chief van den Generaal-Staf Jonkher C.P.A. de Salis” (hal.59-183). Dalam laporan itu dicatat pergerakan harian pasukan Belanda mendekati bonjol. Laporan itu dihiasi dengan banyak sketsa mengenai sistem pertahanan Kaum Paderi.

Sulit untuk dibantah bahwa sepak terjang golongan radikal dalam Kaum Paderi yang dibidani Tuanku Nan Renceh telah semakin memperkuat keinginan Kaum Adat untuk minta bantuan kepada Belanda, karena mereka betul-betul merasa dihinakan oleh orang-orang yang masih satu sukubangsa dengan mereka sendiri.

Tuanku Nan Renceh adalah sosok kontroversial: seorang penganjur agama Islam tapi dalam melakukan misinya sudah melewati dogma-dogma Islam sendiri. Tangannya terlalu banyak berlumur darah sudara-saudaranya sendiri sesama orang Minang. Masih untung kekeliruan ini akhirnya disadari oleh Tuanku Imam Bonjol, ulama Paderi penerus Tuanku Nan Renceh (lihat Sjafnir Aboe Nain, op cit., hal. 39, Naskah). Jika Tuanku Nan Renceh dan pengikutnya tidak bersikap radikal, mungkin jalan sejarah Minangkabau (Perang Paderi) akan jadi lain.

Masa lalu tak akan kembali. Tapi “jangan sekali-kali melupakan sejarah”, kata almarhum Presiden Sukarno. Untuk konteks kekinian masyarakat kita, kisah Tuanku Nan Renceh patut menjadi cermin sejarah bagi generasi Minangkabau dan generasi Indonesia pada umumnya, baik kini maupun masa depan, terutama bagi mereka yang tangannya menggenggam kekuasaan, yang tak sadar apa akibatnya jika dengan sikap radikal dan taklid menjadikan agama sebagai komoditas politik.

———————-
Suryadi, dosen dan peneliti pada Talen en Culturen van Zuidoost-Azië en Oceanië, Universiteit Leiden, Belanda (homepage: http://www.indonesisch.leidenuniv.nl; s.suryadi@let.leidenuniv.nl)

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Origins and Development of the Sufi Orders (tarekat) in Southeast Asia

June 10, 2007

Martin van Bruinessen

Studia Islamika, PPIM UIN Jakarta, vol. I, no.1 (1994), 1-23.

Sufism and the islamization of the Archipelago
Any theory of the islamization of the Malay Archipelago will have to explain at least why the process began when it did, instead of some centuries earlier or later. Foreign Muslims had probably been resident in the trading ports of Sumatra and Java for many centuries, but it is only towards the end of the 13th century that we find traces of apparently indigenous Muslims.

The first evidence is from the north coast of Sumatra, where a few tiny Muslim kingdoms or rather harbour states arose, Perlak and the twin kingdom of Samudra and Pasai. During the 14th and 15th centuries, Islam gradually spread across the coasts of Sumatra and the Malay peninsula, to the north coast of Java and to the spice islands in the east.

The modalities of conversion are not well documented, leading to much speculation by scholars and sometimes passionate debate.[1] The process is unlikely to have been uniform across the Archipelago. Trade and the political alliances of trader-kings no doubt played their parts, as did intermarriage of rich foreign Muslim traders with the daughters of local aristocracies. In some regions, as local sources suggest, Islam may have been spread by the sword, but as a rule the process appears to have been a peaceful one. It is widely assumed that Sufism and the sufi orders played crucial parts in the process.

The first centuries of islamization of Southeast Asia coincided with the period of flourishing of medieval Sufism and the growth of the sufi orders (tarékat). Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, who made moderate, devotional sufism acceptable to the scholars of the Law, died in 1111; Ibn al-`Arabi, whose works deeply influenced almost all later sufis, died in 1240. `Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani, around whose teaching the tarékat Qadiriyya was organised, died in 1166 and `Abd al-Qahir al-Suhrawardi, for whom the Suhrawardiyya is named, a year later (but it is not clear from when on we can actually speak of tarékat in these cases).

Najmuddin al-Kubra, one of the most seminal figures of Central Asian sufism, the founder of the Kubrawiyya order and a major influence on the later Naqshbandiyya, died in 1221. The North African Abu’l-Hasan al-Shadhili, founder of the Shadhiliyya, died in 1258. The Rifa`iyya was definitely an order by 1320, when Ibn Battuta gave us his description of its rituals; the Khalwatiyya crystallized into a tarékat between 1300 and 1450. The Naqshbandiyya was a distinct order in the lifetime of the mystic who gave it its name, Baha’uddin Naqshband (d. 1389), and the eponymous founder of the Shattariyya, `Abdullah al-Shattar, died in 1428-9.[2]
Islam as taught to the first Southeast Asian converts was probably strongly coloured by sufi doctrines and practices.

It has been suggested by various scholars that this was precisely what made Islam attractive to them or, in other words, that the development of sufism was one of the factors making the islamisation of Southeast Asia possible. The cosmological and metaphysical doctrines of Ibn `Arabi’s sufism could easily be assimilated to Indic and autochthonous mystical ideas prevalent in the region. The concepts of sainthood (wilâya) and Perfect Man (insân kâmil), as has been noted by A.C. Milner, offered local rulers a rich potential for mystical legitimation such as they would not have found in earlier, more egalitarian Islam.[3] In the tiny sultanate of Buton (in Southeast Celebes), the sufi doctrine of divine emanation in seven stages was put to use as an explanation of a highly statified society consisting of seven caste-like strata.[4]

The Australian scholar Anthony Johns has suggested that islamization was due to active proselytization by sufi missionaries accompanying the foreign merchants. Sufi-type preachers are in fact mentioned in various indigenous accounts. Johns has further speculated that there was a close connection between trade guilds, sufi orders and these preachers, that provided the moving force behind islamization.[5] Some may find this an attractive hypothesis; there is, however, no evidence supporting it. It is highly doubtful whether the foreign Muslims trading with Southeast Asia were ever organized in anything resembling guilds, and the earliest sources mentioning sufi orders date from the late 16th century.

Indonesian Islam is until this day pervaded with a mystical attitude and a fascination with the miraculous. Several of the great international orders have a respectable following – some orders have hundreds of thousands of practising followers – and there are numerous local Muslim orders, besides various syncretistic mystical sects. The past century has seen many, partially successful, reformist attempts to purge Islam of its mystical and magical dimensions. It is tempting to project present trends back into the past and to assume that Islam reached Indonesia in its sufi garb, that the early centuries were, if anything, more mystically inclined than the more recent past that we know better, and that only in a much later stage a more “precisian” approach associated with the study of Islamic law emerged. The fact is that we do not know. No indigenous sources older than the late 16th century have survived even in later copies, and the contemporary foreign sources remain silent on the subject.

Two observations should make us cautious about attributing too prominent a role to the sufi orders in the first wave of islamization. Among the oldest surviving Islamic manuscripts from Java and Sumatra (brought to Europe around 1600) we find not only mystical tracts and miraculous tales of Persian and Indian origins but also standard manuals of Islamic law.[6] The oldest extant religious treatises in Javanese appear to seek a balance between doctrine, law and tasawwuf.[7] It is only in later Javanese writings that we encounter a much stronger presence of mystical teachings. As for the sufi orders, it appears that these did not find a mass following before the late 18th and 19th centuries.

The Sumatran mystics
The earliest Muslim authors whom we know by name, Hamzah Fansuri, Syamsuddin of Pasai, Nuruddin Raniri and `Abdurra’uf of Singkel, all flourished in Acheh in the 16th and 17th centuries. Acheh, located on the very tip of Sumatra, was a major pepper-producing area and became, due to international trade, one of the most splendid kingdoms of the period. Its rulers patronized the arts and sciences and made it into the region’s chief centre of Islamic knowledge.

Hamzah Fansuri was the first of the sufi authors and the greatest poet among them. His name indicates that he hailed from Fansur (also called Baros) on Sumatra’s west coast; he was active in the second half of the 16th century but his precise dates are unknown. He expressed sophisticated mystical ideas in prose and subtle poetry. He may have been the first to employ the poetic form of the sya’ir (quatrains with a fixed number of syllables and a fixed rhyme pattern) in Malay, and his mastery of the form has never been surpassed. The mystical ideas he expressed are of the wahdat al-wujûd kind and easily lend themselves to a pantheistic interpretation.

Hamzah was well-travelled; in his poems he refers to visits to Mecca, Jerusalem, Baghdad (where he visited the shrine of `Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani) and the Thai capital of Ayuthia, which he mentions by its Persian name of Shahr-i Naw. In the last-named city he was apparently in contact with the substantial Persian community, and he attributes his profoundest mystical insights to an experience he had there. Several passages in his poems appear to imply that he was affiliated with, and possibly even a khalîfa of, the Qadiriyya order. However he nowhere expounds concepts or techniques proper to this or any other order, and there are no indications that he ever taught it (his name, for instance, does not occur in any known Qadiriyya silsila from the Archipelago).[8]

The second famous mystic was Hamzah’s disciple Syamsuddin (d. 1630), who wrote in Arabic as well as Malay. In a less poetic but more systematic way than his teacher, he formulated similar metaphysical doctrines. He was the first Indonesian to expound the doctrine of the “seven stages,” martabat tujuh, an adaptation of Ibn `Arabi’s theory of emanation that was to become popular throughout the Archipelago.[9] In this he may have been emulating the Gujarati author Muhammad b. Fadl Allah Burhanpuri, who expounded the same doctrine in his Al-Tuhfa al-Mursala ila Rûh al-Nabî, which was completed in 1590 and soon became popular among Indonesian Muslims.[10]

It is not known whether Syamsuddin travelled himself to India and Arabia (though it is likely that he did, like all the other sufi authors); he may have become acquainted with Burhanpuri’s work at Acheh as well as in Arabia or Gujarat. Burhanpuri was affiliated with the Shattariyya order; again, there are no indications in Syamsuddin’s work or other sources as to whether he joined this or any other order. Not long after his death, however, the Shattariyya was quite popular among Indonesians returning from Arabia.

Nuruddin Raniri was born into an Arab family established in Ranir (Rander) in Gujarat. He stayed in Acheh during the years 1637-44 and became politically very influential as the sultan’s adviser. His family appears to have had previous Achehnese connections; an uncle, Muhammad Jilani Raniri, had earlier established himself as a teacher in Acheh. Nuruddin makes the interesting observation that his uncle had come to teach the law but was forced to engage in debate on sufi doctrines; he had to go to Mecca to acquire the requisite learning and only after his return as a sufi teacher did he make many disciples in Acheh.

Nuruddin himself was a prolific writer but he became especially known for his fierce polemics against Syamsuddin’s disciples, whom he accused of pantheism and some of whom, he claims himself, he had burned at the stake. It may have been due to a backlash created by own his high-handedness that he later had to flee from Acheh.[11] Raniri himself adhered to a more moderate variety of wahdat al-wujûd, according to which the world has no real existence and is but an illusory mirror image of Reality.[12] He was an adept of the Rifa`iyya order, and the silsila he gives in one of his books shows that the branch to which he belonged had been present in Gujarat for several generations, with Hadrami Arabs of the Al-`Aydarus family as its shaikhs. In the 19th century, the Rifa`iyya was still present in Acheh but it remains unclear whether this was due to Raniri’s teaching or to a later incursion of the same order.[13]

Raniri represents the last documented instance of a direct Indian influence upon the development of the orders in the Archipelago. During the following centuries several other Indian branches of the great orders reached Indonesia, but they did this by way of Mecca or Medina, where Indonesians were initiated into them. This is how the originally Indian Shattariyya order became firmly established throughout Java and Sumatra.

`Abdurra’uf of Singkel, the last of the great Achehnese sufis, exemplifies this process. He spent no less than 19 years in Mecca and Medina, studying the various Islamic sciences under the greatest teachers of his day. Upon his return in 1661, he became Acheh’s leading expert of the Law as well as the recognized authority on sufi doctrine, striking a balance between the views of his predecessors and teaching the dhikr and wird of the Shattariyya. His disciples spread the order from Acheh to West Sumatra and Java, where it has remained rooted in rural society until the present day.[14]

Arabia as the centre of the Southeast Asian orders
Visits to sacred places – mountain tops, caves, beaches and graves – in order to acquire spiritual power have long constituted an important part of religious life in the region. With the advent of Islam, Mecca and Medina were added to these sacred power centres; for the self-conscious Muslims these holy cities soon overshadowed all other centres. This may explain why quite early already the number of people from Southeast Asia making the pilgrimage to Mecca was surprisingly high compared with that from other regions, especially when taking account of the greater distance. Many of those performing the hajj stayed in Arabia for several years, in order to obtain prestigious knowledge (or, in certain cases, for the more mundane reason that they could not afford the passage back).

The Southeast Asians, or Jâwah as they were indiscriminately called in Mecca and Medina, constituted a cohesive community, somewhat isolated from their surroundings by the fact that most only knew rudimentary Arabic. The most learned among them studied with the greatest scholars of the day and passed on the knowledge and sufi affiliations they acquired to the larger Jawah community, whence it spread to the home countries. Due to this process, a relatively small number of ulama in Mecca and Medina have had a disproportionate influence in Southeast Asia. In the 17th century these were Ahmad al-Qushashi, Ibrahim al-Kurani and Ibrahim’s son Muhammad Tahir in Medina, who indeed were among the most prominent scholars and sufis of their time.

In the 18th century, the Medinan Muhammad al-Samman acquired the same meaning for the Indonesians. By the mid-19th century a scholar and sufi of Indonesian origin, Ahmad Khatib Sambas in Mecca was the chief focus of attention of the Jawah, and in the second half of the century the shaikhs of the Naqshbandiyya zâwiya on Mount Abu Qubais in Mecca overshadowed all others in popularity.[15]

Qushashi (d. 1660) and Kurani (d. 1691) represented a synthesis of Indian and Egyptian sufi intellectual traditions. They were heirs to the legal and sufi scholarship of Zakariya al-Ansari and `Abd al-Wahhab al-Sha`rani on the one hand and had initiations into a number of Indian orders, most prominently the Shattariyya and the Naqshbandiyya, on the other. These orders had first been introduced in Medina by the Indian shaikh Sibghatullah, who settled there in 1605.

Kurani, being a Kurd, probably also had access to the Persian-language literature from India; besides, he was an expert in hadith studies and took a deep interest in metaphysics. In serious controversies, it was to him that the ulama of India turned for an authoritative opinion. So did the Indonesians; it was at their request that he wrote a commentary on Burhanpuri’s Tuhfa, interpreting it in an orthodox vein.

Of the various orders that Qushashi and Kurani taught, their Indonesian disciples had a strong preference for the Shattariyya, perhaps because the appealing ideas of the Tuhfa were associated with this order. (In the Middle East, on the other hand, these shaikhs were primarily known as Naqshbandis). The said `Abdurra’uf of Singkel, who studied with both and was sent back to Sumatra as a khalifa, was the best known among their Indonesian students, but there must have been at least dozens of others.[16] For several generations, Indonesian seekers of knowledge in Arabia were to study with Kurani’s successors and seek initiations in the Shattariyya, sometimes in combination with other orders.

Thus we find a number of mutually unrelated branches of this order in Java and Sumatra. The Shattariyya relatively easily accommodated itself with local tradition; it became the most “indigenized” of the orders. On the other hand, it was through the Shattariyya that sufi metaphysical ideas and symbolic classifications based on the martabat tujuh doctrine became part of Javanese popular beliefs.

One of `Abdurra’uf’s contemporaries was Yusuf of Makassar, who still is venerated as the major saint of South Celebes. He too spent around two decades in Arabia studying under Ibrahim al-Kurani and others, and travelling as far as Damascus. He took initiations into numerous orders. He acquired authorizations to teach (ijâza) the Naqshbandiyya, Qadiriyya, Shattariyya, Ba-`Alawiyya and Khalwatiyya (he gives his silsila for all of these), and claims also to have entered the Dasuqiyya, Shadhiliyya, Chishtiyya, `Aydarusiyya, Ahmadiyya, Madariyya, Kubrawiyya and several less well-known orders. After his return to Indonesia around 1670, he taught a spiritual discipline that he called Khalwatiyya but which in fact combined the techniques of the Khalwatiyya with a selection from those of other orders. This Khalwatiyya-Yusuf struck root only in South Celebes, especially among the Makassarese aristocracy.[17]

Almost a century later, the Jawah in Arabia were strongly attracted to the teachings of the highly charismatic Muhammad b. `Abd al-Karim al-Samman (d. 1775) in Medina. Samman was the guardian of the Prophet’s grave and the author of several works on sufi metaphysics but it was especially as the founder of a new order that he became influential. He combined the Khalwatiyya, the Qadiriyya and the Naqshbandiyya with the North African Shadhiliyya (in all of which he had ijâza), developed a new ecstatic way of dhikr and composed a râtib, a litany consisting of invocations and Qur’anic verses.

This combination became known as the Sammaniyya. Formally a branch of the Khalwatiyya (in the sense that Samman’s silsila only acknowledges his Khalwatiyya affiliation, through his teacher Mustafa al-Bakri), it already became a separate order with its own lodges and local groups of followers during the master’s lifetime. Samman moreover enjoyed a great reputation as a miracle-worker, which no doubt contributed to the rapid spread of the order to Indonesia. A large collection of miracle tales (manâqib) was translated into Malay not long after the master’s death and became very popular throughout the Archipelago.[18]

Samman’s best known, and possibly most influential, Indonesian disciple was `Abd al-Samad of Palembang (South Sumatra), a prominent member of the Jawah community in Arabia and the author of a number of important works in Malay. Several other `ulama from Palembang were affiliated with the Sammaniyya, and the order appears early to have found favour in high places in the Palembang sultanate. Within a few years of Samman’s death the sultan of Palembang paid for the construction of a Sammani lodge (zâwiya) in Jeddah.[19]

After Samman’s death, numerous Jawah studied with his khalifa Siddiq b. `Umar Khan. They spread the order to South Borneo, Batavia, Sumbawa, South Celebes and the Malay peninsula. Nafis al-Banjari (of South Borneo) is the only one among them who wrote (in Malay) a substantial work on Sufism; he was probably also the person to whom the propagation of the order in this island was due. In South Celebes, where the Sammaniyya encountered the earlier Khalwatiyya-Yusuf, the two orders became rivals but also influenced one another. The Khalwatiyya-Samman, as this branch of the Sammaniyya is locally known, has grown somewhat different in its ritual from the other branches in Indonesia. Its membership is practically restricted to the Bugis ethnic group.[20]

The Qadiriyya wa Naqshbandiyya is a composite order not unlike the Sammaniyya, of which the techniques of two tarékat in its name are the chief but not the only ingredients. It is the only among the orthodox orders that was founded by an Indonesian, Ahmad Khatib of Sambas (West Borneo). Ahmad Khatib, who spent most of his adult life in Mecca, had a reputation well beyond the Jawah community as an all-round scholar, well versed in the law and doctrine as well in sufi practice. He acquired a large following as a teacher of his own tarékat, which soon replaced the Sammaniyya as the most popular one in Indonesia.

Upon his death in 1873 or 1875, his khalifa `Abd al-Karim of Banten succeeded him as the supreme shaikh of the order. Significantly, `Abd al-Karim had to return from Banten to Mecca in order to occupy his master’s place. Two other important khalifa were Kiai Tolha in Cirebon and the Madurese Kiai Ahmad Hasbullah. `Abd al-Karim was the last central leader of this tarékat; since his death it has consisted of a number of mutually independent branches, deriving from the three said khalifa of the founder.

The Qadiriyya wa Naqshbandiyya is presently one of the two orders with the largest following in the Archipelago. The other one is the Naqshbandiyya Khalidiyya, which owes its propagation all over Indonesia to the zâwiya established by Maulana Khalid’s khalifa `Abdullah al-Arzinjani on Mount Abu Qubais in Mecca. `Abdullah’s successors, Sulaiman al-Qirimi, Sulaiman al-Zuhdi and `Ali Rida, directed their missionary efforts especially at the Jawah, who were visiting the Holy Cities in ever greater numbers during the last decades of the 19th century. Thousands were initiated into the order and underwent training during a period of retreat in this zâwiya; dozens of Indonesians received here an ijâza to teach the tarékat at home.[21]

The orders and Indonesian society
The few indigenous sources that we have strongly suggest that the orders found their following in court circles and only in a much later stage filtered down to the population at large. The Sumatran sufi authors mentioned above worked under royal patronage. Javanese chronicles from Cirebon and Banten relate how the founder of the ruling dynasty himself visited Arabia and was initiated into several orders (Shattariyya, Naqshbandiyya, Kubrawiyya, Shadhiliyya). The tarékat was perceived as a source of spiritual power, at once legitimating and supporting the ruler’s position. It was obviously not in the rulers’ interest to make the same supernatural power available to all their subjects.[22]

By the 18th century, various tarékat had acquired a dispersed following in the Archipelago. New returnees from Mecca and Medina spread the Shattariyya, often in combination with the Naqshbandiyya or Khalwatiyya. Adherence to these orders may have entailed little more than the private recitation of their dhikr and wird; there are no indications as to whether these orders at this stage also functioned as social associations. In the course of the century, the Rifa`iyya and Qadiriyya also definitely spread.

The former was associated with the invulnerability cult named debus, of which remnants are still to be found in Acheh, the peninsular states of Kedah and Perak, Minangkabau, Banten, Cirebon and the Moluccas, and even among the Malay community of Cape Town in South Africa. The latter may at some places also have been associated with debus, but its most conspicuous impact was the emergence of a cult around its founding saint, `Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani. Communal readings of the saint’s manaqib in several regions became an important expression of popular religiosity.

The first tarékat to find a mass following in Southeast Asia that could actually be mobilized was perhaps the Sammaniyya. Though patronized by the sultan of Palembang (who, as observed above, even paid for the construction of a zâwiya in Jeddah), the tarékat appears to have found numerous followers among the common folk. A local written account relates how it played a part in the resistance against occupation of the town by Dutch forces in 1819: groups of men dressed in white worked themselves into a frantic trance with the loud Sammani dhikr before fearlessly attacking the enemy, apparently believing in their own invulnerablity.[23] In South Borneo in the 1860s the Dutch met similar resistance from a strong popular movement engaging in sufi-type exercises named beratip beamal, in which we may perhaps also recognize a local adaptation of the Sammaniyya.[24]

We encounter several other cases of sufi orders taking part in anti-colonial rebellions during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. One of the largest popular rebellions against Dutch rule took place in Banten (West Java) in 1888; here it was the Qadiriyya wa Naqshbandiyya that was involved, even if only indirectly.[25] The same order played a part in a large-scale and violent popular movement on the island of Lombok in 1891, directed against the (Hindu) Balinese who then occupied a large part of the island. We find it once again mentioned in connection with a peasant rebellion with messianistic overtones in East Java in 1903. Another large rebellion, triggered by a new tobacco tax, broke out in West Sumatra in 1908. This time it was the Shattariyya order, since long influential in this region, that played a prominent part in the events.[26]

These tarékat-related rebellions span a period of around one century, from the early 19th to the early 20th century. Some of them were movements resisting the establishment of colonial authority, others revolts against specific government measures or responses to general economic deterioration and oppression. In the case of Lombok, the rebellion predated, and in fact gave occasion to, the first Dutch military intervention in the island. In none of these cases did the initiative for rebellion come from the tarékat; but once the rebellions broke out, the tarékat provided them with supra-local networks of communication and mobilisation, besides spiritual techniques believed to provide magical protection and effectiveness.

In the so-called Java war, the largest anti-Dutch rebellion of the 19th century, led by Prince Diponegoro (1825-30), no tarékat appears to have been involved in spite of the religious motivation of many participants. One gathers that at that time no tarékat network was available in Central Java that might have been put to use by Diponegoro and his ulama advisers.

It appears – but this may simply be due to the absence of reliable historical evidence – that before the said period there existed as yet no tarékat networks that could be utilised. The growth of the tarékat during the 19th century is related to the increase in numbers of pilgrims performing the hajj, facilitated by the invention of the steamboat and the opening of the Suez canal. Many returning hajis had been initiated into a tarékat during their stay in Mecca, and some of them had authorization to teach the techniques of their order. The voyage to Mecca had also given them some knowledge of the wider world, and many were acutely aware of the threat to Islam posed by colonial expansion. Thus anti-colonial sentiment and the tarékat often spread in combination, which no doubt contributed to the tarékat’s occasionally becoming vehicles of economic and political protest movements.

The two orders that experienced the most rapid growth during the late 19th and early 20th centuries were the Qadiriyya wa Naqshbandiyya and the Naqshbandiyya Khalidiyya. The former found its strongest support in Madura and West Java (Banten and Cirebon), due to the fact that a few highly charismatic ulama from those regions became khalifa of the founder in Mecca. The Naqshbandiyya Khalidiyya spread more evenly across the Archipelago but became especially prominent among the Minangkabau of West Sumatra.[27] Another tarékat that found numerous Southeast Asian adherents during this period, mostly in the Malay Peninsula, was the Ahmadiyya, one of the orders deriving from the Moroccan mystic Ahmad ibn Idris, about which more below.

With the emergence of modern nationalist organisations in the 1910s and 1920s, the tarékat gradually lost this political function and one gets the impression that the overall membership of the orders declined. A period of increased political repression beginning in the late 1920s, however, appears to have caused many Indonesians turn away from politics to mysticism – a process that was to repeat itself several times during this century. The late 1920s see the emergence of two new Muslim orders in Java, the Tijaniyya and the Idrisiyya, besides the rise of a number of syncretic mystical sects known as kebatinan movements.

“Neo-Sufi” Orders: the Tijaniyya, Ahmadiyya and Idrisiyya
Two key figures in what has been called “Neo-Sufism” – a movement said to be characterized by a rejection of the ecstatic and metaphysical side of Sufism in favour of strict adherence to the sharî`a, and by a striving for union with the spirit of the Prophet instead of union with God – are the North African mystics Ahmad al-Tijani (1737-1815) and Ahmad ibn Idris (1760-1837).

It is a matter of debate whether it is appropriate to speak of Neo-Sufism as a distinct movement,[28] but these two sufis had a few things in common – besides many differences – that distinguished them from most earlier founders of orders. Both were opposed to the saint veneration of their days and sympathetic to the reformism of the Wahhabis. Both were deeply influenced by the writings of Ibn al-`Arabi and nurtured ambivalent attitudes towards the great master.

Both, finally, claimed to have actually met the Prophet himself and received instruction from him – directly in the case of al-Tijani, through the intermediary of al-Khidir in that of Ahmad ibn Idris.[29] The orders deriving from them have correspondingly short silsila, no names intervening between the Prophet and al-Tijani, and only those of al-Khidir, al-Dabbagh and al-Tazi in the case of Ibn Idris.

Al-Tijani organized his own order, which soon spread from the Maghrib to West Africa, Egypt and Sudan. It did not reach Indonesia until the late 1920s, when it was propagated in West Java by the Medina-born wandering scholar, `Ali ibn `Abdallah al-Tayyib al-Azhari, who had received ijâza to teach the tarékat from two different masters.[30] In the following years, several Indonesians studying in Mecca received initiations and ijâza into the Tijaniyya from teachers still active there. This was after the second Wahhabi conquest of Mecca in 1924, and most other orders could no longer function publicly.

The Tijaniyya, being more reformist and opposed to the cult of saints, was apparently still tolerated. In Indonesia, the Tijaniyya met with strong opposition from other orders but went on growing, with Cirebon and Garut in West Java and Madura with Java’s eastern salient as centres of gravity. During the 1980s it experienced a period of rapid growth, especially in East Java, leading again to conflicts with teachers of other tarékat.[31]

Ahmad ibn Idris’ teachings lived on in a number of related but distinct orders, of which the Sanusiyya, established by his student Muhammad ibn `Ali al-Sanusi, became the most renowned. Other lines of affiliation use the names of Ahmadiyya, Idrisiyya or Khidriyya. Through Ibn Idris’ Meccan khalifa Ibrahim al-Rashid (d. 1874) and his successor Muhammad ibn `Ali al-Dandarawi (d. 1909), this sufi tradition first spread to Southeast Asia. It gained a substantial following in various parts of the Malay Peninsula.

Tuan Tabal, a scholar from Kelantan, was the first to introduce the Ahmadiyya upon his return from Mecca in the 1870s. In the following decades, Tuk Shafi`i of Kedah and Muhammad Sa`id al-Linggi of Negeri Sembilan followed suit. Since then, the Ahmadiyya has retained a presence in various parts of the Peninsula.[32] The various Ahmadiyya branches in present Malaysia and Singapore have retained contact with the mother lodge in Dandara in Upper Egypt.

The sufi method of Ahmad ibn Idris later reached Indonesia by another channel. In the early 1930s, the Sundanese kiai `Abd al-Fattah returned from Mecca, where he had met Ahmad al-Sharif al-Sanusi, the grandson of the founder of the Sanusiyya. Ahmad al-Sharif had given him an ijâza to teach this order in Indonesia, and told him that he had earlier despatched another khalifa to South Celebes.[33]

In order to avoid problems with the colonial authorities, who were likely to associate the Sanusiyya with the anti-Italian resistance in Cyrenaica, Kiai `Abd al-Fattah named his tarékat Idrisiyya. It has remained a relatively small order, now led by `Abd al-Fattah’s son Kiai Dahlan, with the centre in Pagendingan, Tasikmalaya (West Java) and a few local branches, where the followers appear also mostly to be of Tasikmalaya origins.[34]

The dhikr of the Idrisiyya is performed standing, with a loud voice and violent bodily movements, and it is common for the participants to enter trance states. This is quite unlike the Egyptian Sanusiyya, which frowns upon ecstasy and where the dhikr is serene and controlled, but it strongly resembles the Malaysian (and Egyptian) Ahmadiyya, which has an equally ecstatic dhikr. (The prayers of both orders, of course, are identical; they are those composed by Ahmad ibn Idris). This is probably due to contacts between Kiai `Abd al-Fattah or Kiai Dahlan and their Malaysian colleagues after the Idrisiyya was established in West Java. Kiai Dahlan acknowledges that he introduced various other reforms in the order, such as the prescription of distinctive dress and a ban on smoking.

Local tarékat
Besides the large, “international” orders, several orders of purely local character have emerged, some of them syncretic in doctrine and practices. It is not possible to draw a sharp boundary separating local tarékat from kebatinan movements, apart from the former’s explicit attachment to the Islamic tradition. Most of the local orders are considered as unorthodox by the other tarékat, either because their teachings are suspected to deviate from the sharî`a or because they lack a sound silsila. In order to disassociate themselves from local sects of suspect orthodoxy, a number of large orders have united themselves in an association of “respectable” (mu`tabar) tarékat, with silsila and sharî`a-adherence as the major criteria for membership.

One local tarékat apparently influential in the late 19th century was the Akmaliyya (or Haqmaliyya), which had its following mostly in the Cirebon-Banyumas zone, where the Sundanese and Javanese cultures meet. It was suspected by the Dutch of anti-colonial agitation and is repeatedly mentioned in intelligence reports. Three leading teachers were arrested and exiled; after that, it was not heard of for some time.[35] It resurfaced in Garut, where it was taught by Kiai Kahfi and his son Asep Martawidjaja, who expounded the teachings of the order in a long didactic text in Sundanese, Layang Muslimin jeung Muslimat. From Garut it spread to various parts of Java where survives in a number of small groups. The Akmaliyya firmly adheres to wahdat al-wujûd metaphysics and considers `Abd al-Karim al-Jili’s Al-Insân al-Kâmil as the most authoritative doctrinal text. It has also a distinctive meditational technique, not found in the other orders.[36]

A number of new local orders emerged in East Java after independence, the best known among them the Siddiqiyya and the Wahidiyya. Both seem in part to reflect a turn from active politics to quietist mysticism and a change from confrontation between strict and nominal Muslims to more accommodating methods of gradually incorporating the latter into the umma. The Siddiqiyya is led by Kiai Mukhtar Mu`ti of Ploso, Jombang (East Java), who had previously studied various tarékat and acquired a reputation as a magical healer.

He claims that the Siddiqiyya is based on teachings he received in the mid-1950s from a certain Syu`aib Jamali, who hailed from Banten and was a descendant of Yusuf Makassar. The Shiddiqiyah therefore allegedly continues Yusuf’s tarékat practices, but Kiai Mukhtar also gives a Qadiriyya wa Naqshbandiyya silsila for his teacher. His doctrinal teachings are presented in a form much adapted to Javanese folk culture, and the mystical exercises taught consist of long litanies to be recited, followed by breathing exercises.[37]

The Wahidiyya was “founded” by Kiai Abdul Madjid Ma`ruf of the pesantren (Islamic school) Kedunglo in Kediri in the early 1960s. Its major devotion consists of the recitation of a long prayer (salawât) composed by Kiai Abdul Madjid, allegedly under divine inspiration. The collective recitations of this salawât generate an intensely emotional atmosphere, causing the devotees to weep loudly and seemingly uncontrollably. In spite of strong reservations on the part of other ulama, the Wahidiyya rapidly gained adherents among the common folk of Kediri and spread all over East Java.[38]

It is of course not only in Java that local tarékat have emerged. They are to be found throughout the country, in various gradations of orthodoxy and incorporating varying amounts of local pre-Islamic tradition.[39] Wahdat al-wujûd mysticism is condemned by most present ulama as heretical, but it is still much alive among the rural population that has not been much influenced by reformist Muslim teaching. Time and again mystical sects teaching a variety of wahdat al-wujûd emerge. Many are shortlived and disappear under the pressure of the orthodox, only to re-emerge years later under the same or another name. South Kalimantan is one region that appears to be particularly fertile ground for the emergence of such sects. M. Nafis al-Banjari’s Al-Durr al-Nafîs constitutes the scriptural base for various of these sects, of which presently the best-known is the tarékat Junaidiyya, previously known as Aliran Zauq, which was introduced a generation ago by Haji Kasyful Anwar Firdaus.[40]

Do the Tarékat Have a Future?
Tarékat with mass following used to be a rural phenomenon, and the numbers of followers appear to have reached peaks in times of crisis. In recent years, the introduction of electricity, television, metalled roads and cheap motorized transport in the villages appears to have significantly weakened the following of previously popular tarékat in certain regions, though by no means everywhere.

On the other hand, some of the tarékat have found a new following among the urban population, and not only among its most traditional segments. Certain tarékat teachers appeal to an educated public and have found disciples among the highest social circles. Curing of problems such as drug addiction and healing of psychosomatic disorders constitute one of the activities through which they attract numerous new disciples to their tarékat. Partially overlapping with this group, there are people of Muslim modernist or secular backgrounds who, feeling dissatisfied with the rational but unemotional religious atmosphere in which they grew up, seek direct, emotional religious experience in a tarékat.

Some tarékat also fulfill a number of functions that are not religious even in a loose sense. Each tarékat is also a social network, and membership in a tarékat yields a number of potentially useful social contacts. Especially for recent migrants to the city, the tarékat network may prove useful in finding work, a place to live, help in difficulties, etcetera. The tarékat is for some members also a replacement of the family, offering the warmth and protection they do not find elsewhere. The gradual demise of traditional society appears not, as has at times been assumed, to cause the inevitable decline of the tarékat but rather to give them new social functions and entire new categories of followers.

________________________________________
[1] Two articles surveying, from different perspectives, the debate and various theories proposed are: G.W.J. Drewes, “New Light on the Coming of Islam?”, Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 124 (1968), 433-459, and Syed Farid Alatas, “Notes on Various Theories Regarding the Islamization of the Malay Archipelago”, The Muslim World 75 (1985), 162-175.

[2] The best overview of the emergence and development of the sufi orders is still J. Spencer Trimingham’s The Sufi Orders in Islam (Oxford University Press, 1971).

[3] A.C. Milner, “Islam and the Muslim state”, in: M.B. Hooker (ed), Islam in Southeast Asia (Leiden: Brill, 1983), pp. 23-49.

[4] Pim Schoorl, “Islam, Macht en Ontwikkeling in het Sultanaat Buton”, in: L.B. Venema (editor), Islam en Macht. Assen: Van Gorcum, 1987, pp. 52-65.

[5] Anthony H. Johns, “The Role of Sufism in the Spread of Islam to Malaya and Indonesia”, Journal of the Pakistan Historical Society 9 (1961), 143-161; idem, “Islam in Southeast Asia: Reflections and New Directions”, Indonesia 19 (1975), 33-55.

[6] Ph.S. van Ronkel, “Account of Six Malay Manuscripts of the Cambridge University Library”, Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 6e volgreeks, 2 (1896), 1-53.

[7] These texts have been edited with translations by G.W.J. Drewes: Een Javaanse Primbon uit de Zestiende Eeuw (Leiden: Brill, 1954); The Admonitions of Seh Bari (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1969); An Early Javanese Code of Muslim Ethics (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1978).

[8] Syed M. Naquib Al-Attas, The Mysticism of Hamzah Fansuri (Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya University Press, 1970); G.W.J. Drewes & L.F. Brakel, The Poems of Hamzah Fansuri (Dordrecht-Holland: Foris, 1986).

[9] C.A.O. van Nieuwenhuijze, Samsu’l-Din van Pasai (Leiden: Brill, 1945).

[10] Anthony H. Johns, The Gift Addressed to the Spirit of the Prophet (Canberra: ANU, 1965).

[11] Takeshi Ito, “Why did Nuruddin ar-Raniri leave Aceh in 1054 A.H.?”, Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 134 (1978), 489-491.

[12] Raniri’s mystical views are analyzed in: Ahmad Daudy, Allah dan Manusia dalam Konsepsi Syeikh Nuruddin Ar-Raniry (Jakarta: Rajawali, 1983); Syed Muhammad Naquib Al-Attas, A Commentary on the Hujjat Al-Siddiq of Nur Al-Din Al-Raniri (Kuala Lumpur: Ministry of Culture, 1986).

[13] C. Snouck Hurgronje, De Atjèhers (Batavia: Landsdrukkerij & Leiden: Brill, 1894), vol. II, 256-264 describes Rifa`iyya-related practices (debus) in late 19th-century Acheh which may belong to a second incursion of the order, well after Raniri’s time. The same practices became popular in Banten (West Java) in the mid-18th century, see Martin van Bruinessen, “Shari`a Court, Tarekat and Pesantren: Religious Institutions in the Banten Sultanate”, Archipel 47 (1994).

[14] D.A. Rinkes, Abdoerraoef van Singkel. Bijdrage tot de Kennis van de Mystiek op Sumatra en Java (Dissertation Leiden, 1909).

[15] Snouck Hurgronje’s observations in the second volume of his Mekka (The Hague, 1889) still constitute the most detailed and valuable source on the social and intellectual life of the Jawah community in Mecca.

[16] See Anthony H. Johns, “Friends in Grace: Ibrahim Al-Kurani and `Abd Ar-Ra’uf Al-Singkeli”, in: S. Udin (ed.), Spectrum: Essays Presented to Sutan Takdir Alisjahbana (Jakarta: Dian Rakyat, 1978), pp. 469-85, and the same author’s articles “al-Kurani” and “al-Kushashi” in the Encyclopaedia of Islam.

[17] Martin van Bruinessen, “The Tariqa Khalwatiyya in South Celebes”, in: Harry A. Poeze & Pim Schoorl (eds.), Excursies in Celebes (Leiden: KITLV Press, 1991), pp. 251-270.

[18] The Arabic original of this work, Al-Manaqib al-Kubra, may be lost, but numerous manuscript copies of the Malay version are extant. This Malay text is edited in Ahmad Purwadaksi’s dissertation, Ratib Samman dan Hikayat Syekh Muhammad Samman (Fakultas Sastra UI, Jakarta, 1992).

[19] Thus the Malay Hikayat Syekh Muhammad Samman, see Purwadaksi, op. cit., pp. 335-6.

[20] See van Bruinessen, “The Tariqa Khalwatiyya …”.

[21] The Meccan teachers of the Naqshbandiyya and the Qadiriyya wa Naqshbandiyya receive extensive coverage in my book Tarekat Naqsyabandiyah di Indonesia (Bandung: Mizan, 1992, English edition forthcoming at KITLV Press, Leiden).

[22] This argument is presented in more elaborate form in Martin van Bruinessen, “Shari`a Court, Tarekat and Pesantren: Religious Institutions in the Banten Sultanate” Archipel 47 (1994).

[23] The said local text, Sya`ir Perang Mèntèng, is edited in: M.O. Woelders, Het Sultanaat Palembang, 1811-1825 (‘s Gravenhage: Nijhoff, 1975), pp. 194-222.

[24] Described in Helius Sjamsuddin, “Islam and Resistance in South and Central Kalimantan in the Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries”, in: M.C. Ricklefs (ed.), Islam in the Indonesian Social Context (Clayton, Centre for Southeast Asian Studies, Monash University, 1991), pp. 7-17. The text of the râtib used is translated in P.J. Veth, “Het Beratip Beamal in Bandjermasin”, Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsch-Indië 3 no.1 (1869), 331-349.

[25] Sartono Kartodirdjo, The Peasants’ Revolt of Banten in 1888. ‘s Gravenhage: Nijhoff, 1966.

[26] Kenneth Robert Young, The 1908 Anti-Tax Rebellion in Minangkabau (West Sumatra): A Socio-Economic Study of an Historical Case of Political Activism Among Indonesian Peasants (Ph.D. thesis, University College, London, 1983); Werner Kraus, Zwischen Reform und Rebellion: Über die Entwicklung des Islams in Minangkabau (Westsumatra) Zwischen den Beiden Reformbewegungen der Padri (1837) und der Modernisten (1908) (Wiesbaden:Franz Steiner Verlag, 1984), pp. 170-200.

[27] The propagation of these tarekat throughout the Archipelago is discussed in detail in van Bruinessen, Tarekat Naqsyabandiyah. Cf. Martin van Bruinessen, “The Origins and Development of the Naqshbandi Order in Indonesia”, Der Islam 67 (1990), 150-179.

[28] See the extensive critique of the concept in R.S. O’Fahey & Bernd Radtke, “Neo-Sufism Reconsidered”, Der Islam, forthcoming, and the discussion in R.S. O’Fahey, Enigmatic Saint: Ahmad ibn Idris and the Idrisi Tradition (Evanston, Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 1990), pp. 1-9.

[29] Jamil M. Abun-Nasr, The Tijaniyya: A Sufi Order in the Modern World (London: Oxford University Press, 1965); O’Fahey, Enigmatic Saint; Trimingham, Sufi Orders, pp. 107-116. Ibn Idris was taught one brief prayer by al-Khidir, in the presence of the Prophet; he took other prayers and techniques from his human teacher `Abd al-Wahhab al-Tazi, whose teacher `Abd al-`Aziz al-Dabbagh had similarly received them from al-Khidir.

[30] G.F. Pijper, “De Opkomst der Tidjaniyyah op Java”, in Pijper, Fragmenta Islamica (Leiden: Brill, 1934), pp. 97-121.

[31] Moeslim Abdurrahman, “Tijaniyah, Tarekat Yang Dipersoalkan?” Pesantren V no.4 (1988), 80-89.

[32] Hamdan Hassan, Tarekat Ahmadiyah di Malaysia. Suatu Analisis Fakta Secara Ilmiah (Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1990).

[33] I have in vain tried to find remnants of the Sanusiyya or Idrisiyya in South Sulawesi. The well-known Bugis `alim Muhammad As`ad (d. 1953) did meet Ahmad al-Sharif and even became his secretary for a brief period before returning to Sulawesi in 1928; he does not appear to have taught the tarekat, however. See Muh. Hatta Walinga, Kiyai Haji Muhammad As’ad: hidup dan perjuangannya (Skripsi Sarjana, Fakultas Adab, IAIN Alauddin, Ujung Pandang, 1401/1980).

[34] Mustafsirah Marcoes, Perkembangan Tarekat Idrisiyyah di Pesantren Fat-hiyyah Pagendingan Tasikmalaya (Skripsi Sarjana, Fakultas Ushuluddin, IAIN Syarif Hidayatullah, 1984).

[35] The writings of these three teachers, Hasan Maulani of Lengkong, Malangyuda of Rajawana Kidul and Nurhakim of Pasir Wetan, which were confiscated, are analyzed in G.W.J. Drewes, Drie Javaansche Goeroe’s. Hun Leven, Onderricht en Messiasprediking (Dissertation, Leiden, 1925).

[36] For more detailed information on the Akmaliyya and possible origins of its technique of meditation, see my “Najmuddin al-Kubra, Jumadil Kubra and Jamaluddin al-Akbar: Traces of a Kubrawiyya Influence in Early Indonesian Islam”, Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde, forthcoming.

[37] The mystical exercises are described in Syafi’ah, Tareqat Khalwatiyyah Shiddiqiyyah di Desa Losari Kecamatan Ploso Kabupaten Jombang (Skripsi Sarjana, Fakultas Ushuluddin, IAIN Sunan Kalijaga, Yogyakarta, 1989). See also Qowa’id, “Tarekat Shiddiqiyyah: Antara Kekhusyukan dan Gerakan”, Pesantren IX, No.1 (1992), 89-96.

[38] Abdurrahman Wahid, “Penelitian Pesantren Kedunglo, Kodya Kediri”, Bulletin Proyek Agama dan Perubahan Sosial no.4 (Jakarta: LEKNAS-LIPI, 1977), 18 26; Moeslim Abdurrahman, “Sufisme di Kediri”, in: Sufisme di Indonesia [=Dialog, edisi khusus] (Jakarta: Badan Penelitian dan Pengembangan Agama, Departemen Agama R.I., 1978), pp. 23-40.

[39] A number of these local tarekat are described in Djohan Effendi, “Über Nichtorthodoxe und Synkretistische Bruderschaften im gegenwärtigen Indonesien”, in: Werner Kraus (ed.), Islamische Mystische Bruderschaften im heutigen Indonesien (Hamburg: Institut für Asienkunde, 1990), pp. 100-130.

[40] Ahmad Zaini H.M., Aliran Zauq di Kabupaten Hulu Sungai Utara (Risalah Sarjana Muda, Fakultas Ushuluddin, IAIN Antasari, Banjarmasin, 1975); H.D. Mirhan, Tarekat Junaidy di Halong Dalam Agung Harnai. Sebuah Studi Perbandingan (Skripsi Sarjana, Fakultas Ushuluddin, IAIN Antasari, Banjarmasin, 1983).

Origins and Development of the Sufi Orders (tarekat) in Southeast Asia

June 10, 2007

Martin van Bruinessen

Studia Islamika, PPIM UIN Jakarta, vol. I, no.1 (1994), 1-23.

Sufism and the islamization of the Archipelago
Any theory of the islamization of the Malay Archipelago will have to explain at least why the process began when it did, instead of some centuries earlier or later. Foreign Muslims had probably been resident in the trading ports of Sumatra and Java for many centuries, but it is only towards the end of the 13th century that we find traces of apparently indigenous Muslims.

The first evidence is from the north coast of Sumatra, where a few tiny Muslim kingdoms or rather harbour states arose, Perlak and the twin kingdom of Samudra and Pasai. During the 14th and 15th centuries, Islam gradually spread across the coasts of Sumatra and the Malay peninsula, to the north coast of Java and to the spice islands in the east.

The modalities of conversion are not well documented, leading to much speculation by scholars and sometimes passionate debate.[1] The process is unlikely to have been uniform across the Archipelago. Trade and the political alliances of trader-kings no doubt played their parts, as did intermarriage of rich foreign Muslim traders with the daughters of local aristocracies. In some regions, as local sources suggest, Islam may have been spread by the sword, but as a rule the process appears to have been a peaceful one. It is widely assumed that Sufism and the sufi orders played crucial parts in the process.

The first centuries of islamization of Southeast Asia coincided with the period of flourishing of medieval Sufism and the growth of the sufi orders (tarékat). Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, who made moderate, devotional sufism acceptable to the scholars of the Law, died in 1111; Ibn al-`Arabi, whose works deeply influenced almost all later sufis, died in 1240. `Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani, around whose teaching the tarékat Qadiriyya was organised, died in 1166 and `Abd al-Qahir al-Suhrawardi, for whom the Suhrawardiyya is named, a year later (but it is not clear from when on we can actually speak of tarékat in these cases).

Najmuddin al-Kubra, one of the most seminal figures of Central Asian sufism, the founder of the Kubrawiyya order and a major influence on the later Naqshbandiyya, died in 1221. The North African Abu’l-Hasan al-Shadhili, founder of the Shadhiliyya, died in 1258. The Rifa`iyya was definitely an order by 1320, when Ibn Battuta gave us his description of its rituals; the Khalwatiyya crystallized into a tarékat between 1300 and 1450. The Naqshbandiyya was a distinct order in the lifetime of the mystic who gave it its name, Baha’uddin Naqshband (d. 1389), and the eponymous founder of the Shattariyya, `Abdullah al-Shattar, died in 1428-9.[2]
Islam as taught to the first Southeast Asian converts was probably strongly coloured by sufi doctrines and practices.

It has been suggested by various scholars that this was precisely what made Islam attractive to them or, in other words, that the development of sufism was one of the factors making the islamisation of Southeast Asia possible. The cosmological and metaphysical doctrines of Ibn `Arabi’s sufism could easily be assimilated to Indic and autochthonous mystical ideas prevalent in the region. The concepts of sainthood (wilâya) and Perfect Man (insân kâmil), as has been noted by A.C. Milner, offered local rulers a rich potential for mystical legitimation such as they would not have found in earlier, more egalitarian Islam.[3] In the tiny sultanate of Buton (in Southeast Celebes), the sufi doctrine of divine emanation in seven stages was put to use as an explanation of a highly statified society consisting of seven caste-like strata.[4]

The Australian scholar Anthony Johns has suggested that islamization was due to active proselytization by sufi missionaries accompanying the foreign merchants. Sufi-type preachers are in fact mentioned in various indigenous accounts. Johns has further speculated that there was a close connection between trade guilds, sufi orders and these preachers, that provided the moving force behind islamization.[5] Some may find this an attractive hypothesis; there is, however, no evidence supporting it. It is highly doubtful whether the foreign Muslims trading with Southeast Asia were ever organized in anything resembling guilds, and the earliest sources mentioning sufi orders date from the late 16th century.

Indonesian Islam is until this day pervaded with a mystical attitude and a fascination with the miraculous. Several of the great international orders have a respectable following – some orders have hundreds of thousands of practising followers – and there are numerous local Muslim orders, besides various syncretistic mystical sects. The past century has seen many, partially successful, reformist attempts to purge Islam of its mystical and magical dimensions. It is tempting to project present trends back into the past and to assume that Islam reached Indonesia in its sufi garb, that the early centuries were, if anything, more mystically inclined than the more recent past that we know better, and that only in a much later stage a more “precisian” approach associated with the study of Islamic law emerged. The fact is that we do not know. No indigenous sources older than the late 16th century have survived even in later copies, and the contemporary foreign sources remain silent on the subject.

Two observations should make us cautious about attributing too prominent a role to the sufi orders in the first wave of islamization. Among the oldest surviving Islamic manuscripts from Java and Sumatra (brought to Europe around 1600) we find not only mystical tracts and miraculous tales of Persian and Indian origins but also standard manuals of Islamic law.[6] The oldest extant religious treatises in Javanese appear to seek a balance between doctrine, law and tasawwuf.[7] It is only in later Javanese writings that we encounter a much stronger presence of mystical teachings. As for the sufi orders, it appears that these did not find a mass following before the late 18th and 19th centuries.

The Sumatran mystics
The earliest Muslim authors whom we know by name, Hamzah Fansuri, Syamsuddin of Pasai, Nuruddin Raniri and `Abdurra’uf of Singkel, all flourished in Acheh in the 16th and 17th centuries. Acheh, located on the very tip of Sumatra, was a major pepper-producing area and became, due to international trade, one of the most splendid kingdoms of the period. Its rulers patronized the arts and sciences and made it into the region’s chief centre of Islamic knowledge.

Hamzah Fansuri was the first of the sufi authors and the greatest poet among them. His name indicates that he hailed from Fansur (also called Baros) on Sumatra’s west coast; he was active in the second half of the 16th century but his precise dates are unknown. He expressed sophisticated mystical ideas in prose and subtle poetry. He may have been the first to employ the poetic form of the sya’ir (quatrains with a fixed number of syllables and a fixed rhyme pattern) in Malay, and his mastery of the form has never been surpassed. The mystical ideas he expressed are of the wahdat al-wujûd kind and easily lend themselves to a pantheistic interpretation.

Hamzah was well-travelled; in his poems he refers to visits to Mecca, Jerusalem, Baghdad (where he visited the shrine of `Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani) and the Thai capital of Ayuthia, which he mentions by its Persian name of Shahr-i Naw. In the last-named city he was apparently in contact with the substantial Persian community, and he attributes his profoundest mystical insights to an experience he had there. Several passages in his poems appear to imply that he was affiliated with, and possibly even a khalîfa of, the Qadiriyya order. However he nowhere expounds concepts or techniques proper to this or any other order, and there are no indications that he ever taught it (his name, for instance, does not occur in any known Qadiriyya silsila from the Archipelago).[8]

The second famous mystic was Hamzah’s disciple Syamsuddin (d. 1630), who wrote in Arabic as well as Malay. In a less poetic but more systematic way than his teacher, he formulated similar metaphysical doctrines. He was the first Indonesian to expound the doctrine of the “seven stages,” martabat tujuh, an adaptation of Ibn `Arabi’s theory of emanation that was to become popular throughout the Archipelago.[9] In this he may have been emulating the Gujarati author Muhammad b. Fadl Allah Burhanpuri, who expounded the same doctrine in his Al-Tuhfa al-Mursala ila Rûh al-Nabî, which was completed in 1590 and soon became popular among Indonesian Muslims.[10]

It is not known whether Syamsuddin travelled himself to India and Arabia (though it is likely that he did, like all the other sufi authors); he may have become acquainted with Burhanpuri’s work at Acheh as well as in Arabia or Gujarat. Burhanpuri was affiliated with the Shattariyya order; again, there are no indications in Syamsuddin’s work or other sources as to whether he joined this or any other order. Not long after his death, however, the Shattariyya was quite popular among Indonesians returning from Arabia.

Nuruddin Raniri was born into an Arab family established in Ranir (Rander) in Gujarat. He stayed in Acheh during the years 1637-44 and became politically very influential as the sultan’s adviser. His family appears to have had previous Achehnese connections; an uncle, Muhammad Jilani Raniri, had earlier established himself as a teacher in Acheh. Nuruddin makes the interesting observation that his uncle had come to teach the law but was forced to engage in debate on sufi doctrines; he had to go to Mecca to acquire the requisite learning and only after his return as a sufi teacher did he make many disciples in Acheh.

Nuruddin himself was a prolific writer but he became especially known for his fierce polemics against Syamsuddin’s disciples, whom he accused of pantheism and some of whom, he claims himself, he had burned at the stake. It may have been due to a backlash created by own his high-handedness that he later had to flee from Acheh.[11] Raniri himself adhered to a more moderate variety of wahdat al-wujûd, according to which the world has no real existence and is but an illusory mirror image of Reality.[12] He was an adept of the Rifa`iyya order, and the silsila he gives in one of his books shows that the branch to which he belonged had been present in Gujarat for several generations, with Hadrami Arabs of the Al-`Aydarus family as its shaikhs. In the 19th century, the Rifa`iyya was still present in Acheh but it remains unclear whether this was due to Raniri’s teaching or to a later incursion of the same order.[13]

Raniri represents the last documented instance of a direct Indian influence upon the development of the orders in the Archipelago. During the following centuries several other Indian branches of the great orders reached Indonesia, but they did this by way of Mecca or Medina, where Indonesians were initiated into them. This is how the originally Indian Shattariyya order became firmly established throughout Java and Sumatra.

`Abdurra’uf of Singkel, the last of the great Achehnese sufis, exemplifies this process. He spent no less than 19 years in Mecca and Medina, studying the various Islamic sciences under the greatest teachers of his day. Upon his return in 1661, he became Acheh’s leading expert of the Law as well as the recognized authority on sufi doctrine, striking a balance between the views of his predecessors and teaching the dhikr and wird of the Shattariyya. His disciples spread the order from Acheh to West Sumatra and Java, where it has remained rooted in rural society until the present day.[14]

Arabia as the centre of the Southeast Asian orders
Visits to sacred places – mountain tops, caves, beaches and graves – in order to acquire spiritual power have long constituted an important part of religious life in the region. With the advent of Islam, Mecca and Medina were added to these sacred power centres; for the self-conscious Muslims these holy cities soon overshadowed all other centres. This may explain why quite early already the number of people from Southeast Asia making the pilgrimage to Mecca was surprisingly high compared with that from other regions, especially when taking account of the greater distance. Many of those performing the hajj stayed in Arabia for several years, in order to obtain prestigious knowledge (or, in certain cases, for the more mundane reason that they could not afford the passage back).

The Southeast Asians, or Jâwah as they were indiscriminately called in Mecca and Medina, constituted a cohesive community, somewhat isolated from their surroundings by the fact that most only knew rudimentary Arabic. The most learned among them studied with the greatest scholars of the day and passed on the knowledge and sufi affiliations they acquired to the larger Jawah community, whence it spread to the home countries. Due to this process, a relatively small number of ulama in Mecca and Medina have had a disproportionate influence in Southeast Asia. In the 17th century these were Ahmad al-Qushashi, Ibrahim al-Kurani and Ibrahim’s son Muhammad Tahir in Medina, who indeed were among the most prominent scholars and sufis of their time.

In the 18th century, the Medinan Muhammad al-Samman acquired the same meaning for the Indonesians. By the mid-19th century a scholar and sufi of Indonesian origin, Ahmad Khatib Sambas in Mecca was the chief focus of attention of the Jawah, and in the second half of the century the shaikhs of the Naqshbandiyya zâwiya on Mount Abu Qubais in Mecca overshadowed all others in popularity.[15]

Qushashi (d. 1660) and Kurani (d. 1691) represented a synthesis of Indian and Egyptian sufi intellectual traditions. They were heirs to the legal and sufi scholarship of Zakariya al-Ansari and `Abd al-Wahhab al-Sha`rani on the one hand and had initiations into a number of Indian orders, most prominently the Shattariyya and the Naqshbandiyya, on the other. These orders had first been introduced in Medina by the Indian shaikh Sibghatullah, who settled there in 1605.

Kurani, being a Kurd, probably also had access to the Persian-language literature from India; besides, he was an expert in hadith studies and took a deep interest in metaphysics. In serious controversies, it was to him that the ulama of India turned for an authoritative opinion. So did the Indonesians; it was at their request that he wrote a commentary on Burhanpuri’s Tuhfa, interpreting it in an orthodox vein.

Of the various orders that Qushashi and Kurani taught, their Indonesian disciples had a strong preference for the Shattariyya, perhaps because the appealing ideas of the Tuhfa were associated with this order. (In the Middle East, on the other hand, these shaikhs were primarily known as Naqshbandis). The said `Abdurra’uf of Singkel, who studied with both and was sent back to Sumatra as a khalifa, was the best known among their Indonesian students, but there must have been at least dozens of others.[16] For several generations, Indonesian seekers of knowledge in Arabia were to study with Kurani’s successors and seek initiations in the Shattariyya, sometimes in combination with other orders.

Thus we find a number of mutually unrelated branches of this order in Java and Sumatra. The Shattariyya relatively easily accommodated itself with local tradition; it became the most “indigenized” of the orders. On the other hand, it was through the Shattariyya that sufi metaphysical ideas and symbolic classifications based on the martabat tujuh doctrine became part of Javanese popular beliefs.

One of `Abdurra’uf’s contemporaries was Yusuf of Makassar, who still is venerated as the major saint of South Celebes. He too spent around two decades in Arabia studying under Ibrahim al-Kurani and others, and travelling as far as Damascus. He took initiations into numerous orders. He acquired authorizations to teach (ijâza) the Naqshbandiyya, Qadiriyya, Shattariyya, Ba-`Alawiyya and Khalwatiyya (he gives his silsila for all of these), and claims also to have entered the Dasuqiyya, Shadhiliyya, Chishtiyya, `Aydarusiyya, Ahmadiyya, Madariyya, Kubrawiyya and several less well-known orders. After his return to Indonesia around 1670, he taught a spiritual discipline that he called Khalwatiyya but which in fact combined the techniques of the Khalwatiyya with a selection from those of other orders. This Khalwatiyya-Yusuf struck root only in South Celebes, especially among the Makassarese aristocracy.[17]

Almost a century later, the Jawah in Arabia were strongly attracted to the teachings of the highly charismatic Muhammad b. `Abd al-Karim al-Samman (d. 1775) in Medina. Samman was the guardian of the Prophet’s grave and the author of several works on sufi metaphysics but it was especially as the founder of a new order that he became influential. He combined the Khalwatiyya, the Qadiriyya and the Naqshbandiyya with the North African Shadhiliyya (in all of which he had ijâza), developed a new ecstatic way of dhikr and composed a râtib, a litany consisting of invocations and Qur’anic verses.

This combination became known as the Sammaniyya. Formally a branch of the Khalwatiyya (in the sense that Samman’s silsila only acknowledges his Khalwatiyya affiliation, through his teacher Mustafa al-Bakri), it already became a separate order with its own lodges and local groups of followers during the master’s lifetime. Samman moreover enjoyed a great reputation as a miracle-worker, which no doubt contributed to the rapid spread of the order to Indonesia. A large collection of miracle tales (manâqib) was translated into Malay not long after the master’s death and became very popular throughout the Archipelago.[18]

Samman’s best known, and possibly most influential, Indonesian disciple was `Abd al-Samad of Palembang (South Sumatra), a prominent member of the Jawah community in Arabia and the author of a number of important works in Malay. Several other `ulama from Palembang were affiliated with the Sammaniyya, and the order appears early to have found favour in high places in the Palembang sultanate. Within a few years of Samman’s death the sultan of Palembang paid for the construction of a Sammani lodge (zâwiya) in Jeddah.[19]

After Samman’s death, numerous Jawah studied with his khalifa Siddiq b. `Umar Khan. They spread the order to South Borneo, Batavia, Sumbawa, South Celebes and the Malay peninsula. Nafis al-Banjari (of South Borneo) is the only one among them who wrote (in Malay) a substantial work on Sufism; he was probably also the person to whom the propagation of the order in this island was due. In South Celebes, where the Sammaniyya encountered the earlier Khalwatiyya-Yusuf, the two orders became rivals but also influenced one another. The Khalwatiyya-Samman, as this branch of the Sammaniyya is locally known, has grown somewhat different in its ritual from the other branches in Indonesia. Its membership is practically restricted to the Bugis ethnic group.[20]

The Qadiriyya wa Naqshbandiyya is a composite order not unlike the Sammaniyya, of which the techniques of two tarékat in its name are the chief but not the only ingredients. It is the only among the orthodox orders that was founded by an Indonesian, Ahmad Khatib of Sambas (West Borneo). Ahmad Khatib, who spent most of his adult life in Mecca, had a reputation well beyond the Jawah community as an all-round scholar, well versed in the law and doctrine as well in sufi practice. He acquired a large following as a teacher of his own tarékat, which soon replaced the Sammaniyya as the most popular one in Indonesia.

Upon his death in 1873 or 1875, his khalifa `Abd al-Karim of Banten succeeded him as the supreme shaikh of the order. Significantly, `Abd al-Karim had to return from Banten to Mecca in order to occupy his master’s place. Two other important khalifa were Kiai Tolha in Cirebon and the Madurese Kiai Ahmad Hasbullah. `Abd al-Karim was the last central leader of this tarékat; since his death it has consisted of a number of mutually independent branches, deriving from the three said khalifa of the founder.

The Qadiriyya wa Naqshbandiyya is presently one of the two orders with the largest following in the Archipelago. The other one is the Naqshbandiyya Khalidiyya, which owes its propagation all over Indonesia to the zâwiya established by Maulana Khalid’s khalifa `Abdullah al-Arzinjani on Mount Abu Qubais in Mecca. `Abdullah’s successors, Sulaiman al-Qirimi, Sulaiman al-Zuhdi and `Ali Rida, directed their missionary efforts especially at the Jawah, who were visiting the Holy Cities in ever greater numbers during the last decades of the 19th century. Thousands were initiated into the order and underwent training during a period of retreat in this zâwiya; dozens of Indonesians received here an ijâza to teach the tarékat at home.[21]

The orders and Indonesian society
The few indigenous sources that we have strongly suggest that the orders found their following in court circles and only in a much later stage filtered down to the population at large. The Sumatran sufi authors mentioned above worked under royal patronage. Javanese chronicles from Cirebon and Banten relate how the founder of the ruling dynasty himself visited Arabia and was initiated into several orders (Shattariyya, Naqshbandiyya, Kubrawiyya, Shadhiliyya). The tarékat was perceived as a source of spiritual power, at once legitimating and supporting the ruler’s position. It was obviously not in the rulers’ interest to make the same supernatural power available to all their subjects.[22]

By the 18th century, various tarékat had acquired a dispersed following in the Archipelago. New returnees from Mecca and Medina spread the Shattariyya, often in combination with the Naqshbandiyya or Khalwatiyya. Adherence to these orders may have entailed little more than the private recitation of their dhikr and wird; there are no indications as to whether these orders at this stage also functioned as social associations. In the course of the century, the Rifa`iyya and Qadiriyya also definitely spread.

The former was associated with the invulnerability cult named debus, of which remnants are still to be found in Acheh, the peninsular states of Kedah and Perak, Minangkabau, Banten, Cirebon and the Moluccas, and even among the Malay community of Cape Town in South Africa. The latter may at some places also have been associated with debus, but its most conspicuous impact was the emergence of a cult around its founding saint, `Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani. Communal readings of the saint’s manaqib in several regions became an important expression of popular religiosity.

The first tarékat to find a mass following in Southeast Asia that could actually be mobilized was perhaps the Sammaniyya. Though patronized by the sultan of Palembang (who, as observed above, even paid for the construction of a zâwiya in Jeddah), the tarékat appears to have found numerous followers among the common folk. A local written account relates how it played a part in the resistance against occupation of the town by Dutch forces in 1819: groups of men dressed in white worked themselves into a frantic trance with the loud Sammani dhikr before fearlessly attacking the enemy, apparently believing in their own invulnerablity.[23] In South Borneo in the 1860s the Dutch met similar resistance from a strong popular movement engaging in sufi-type exercises named beratip beamal, in which we may perhaps also recognize a local adaptation of the Sammaniyya.[24]

We encounter several other cases of sufi orders taking part in anti-colonial rebellions during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. One of the largest popular rebellions against Dutch rule took place in Banten (West Java) in 1888; here it was the Qadiriyya wa Naqshbandiyya that was involved, even if only indirectly.[25] The same order played a part in a large-scale and violent popular movement on the island of Lombok in 1891, directed against the (Hindu) Balinese who then occupied a large part of the island. We find it once again mentioned in connection with a peasant rebellion with messianistic overtones in East Java in 1903. Another large rebellion, triggered by a new tobacco tax, broke out in West Sumatra in 1908. This time it was the Shattariyya order, since long influential in this region, that played a prominent part in the events.[26]

These tarékat-related rebellions span a period of around one century, from the early 19th to the early 20th century. Some of them were movements resisting the establishment of colonial authority, others revolts against specific government measures or responses to general economic deterioration and oppression. In the case of Lombok, the rebellion predated, and in fact gave occasion to, the first Dutch military intervention in the island. In none of these cases did the initiative for rebellion come from the tarékat; but once the rebellions broke out, the tarékat provided them with supra-local networks of communication and mobilisation, besides spiritual techniques believed to provide magical protection and effectiveness.

In the so-called Java war, the largest anti-Dutch rebellion of the 19th century, led by Prince Diponegoro (1825-30), no tarékat appears to have been involved in spite of the religious motivation of many participants. One gathers that at that time no tarékat network was available in Central Java that might have been put to use by Diponegoro and his ulama advisers.

It appears – but this may simply be due to the absence of reliable historical evidence – that before the said period there existed as yet no tarékat networks that could be utilised. The growth of the tarékat during the 19th century is related to the increase in numbers of pilgrims performing the hajj, facilitated by the invention of the steamboat and the opening of the Suez canal. Many returning hajis had been initiated into a tarékat during their stay in Mecca, and some of them had authorization to teach the techniques of their order. The voyage to Mecca had also given them some knowledge of the wider world, and many were acutely aware of the threat to Islam posed by colonial expansion. Thus anti-colonial sentiment and the tarékat often spread in combination, which no doubt contributed to the tarékat’s occasionally becoming vehicles of economic and political protest movements.

The two orders that experienced the most rapid growth during the late 19th and early 20th centuries were the Qadiriyya wa Naqshbandiyya and the Naqshbandiyya Khalidiyya. The former found its strongest support in Madura and West Java (Banten and Cirebon), due to the fact that a few highly charismatic ulama from those regions became khalifa of the founder in Mecca. The Naqshbandiyya Khalidiyya spread more evenly across the Archipelago but became especially prominent among the Minangkabau of West Sumatra.[27] Another tarékat that found numerous Southeast Asian adherents during this period, mostly in the Malay Peninsula, was the Ahmadiyya, one of the orders deriving from the Moroccan mystic Ahmad ibn Idris, about which more below.

With the emergence of modern nationalist organisations in the 1910s and 1920s, the tarékat gradually lost this political function and one gets the impression that the overall membership of the orders declined. A period of increased political repression beginning in the late 1920s, however, appears to have caused many Indonesians turn away from politics to mysticism – a process that was to repeat itself several times during this century. The late 1920s see the emergence of two new Muslim orders in Java, the Tijaniyya and the Idrisiyya, besides the rise of a number of syncretic mystical sects known as kebatinan movements.

“Neo-Sufi” Orders: the Tijaniyya, Ahmadiyya and Idrisiyya
Two key figures in what has been called “Neo-Sufism” – a movement said to be characterized by a rejection of the ecstatic and metaphysical side of Sufism in favour of strict adherence to the sharî`a, and by a striving for union with the spirit of the Prophet instead of union with God – are the North African mystics Ahmad al-Tijani (1737-1815) and Ahmad ibn Idris (1760-1837).

It is a matter of debate whether it is appropriate to speak of Neo-Sufism as a distinct movement,[28] but these two sufis had a few things in common – besides many differences – that distinguished them from most earlier founders of orders. Both were opposed to the saint veneration of their days and sympathetic to the reformism of the Wahhabis. Both were deeply influenced by the writings of Ibn al-`Arabi and nurtured ambivalent attitudes towards the great master.

Both, finally, claimed to have actually met the Prophet himself and received instruction from him – directly in the case of al-Tijani, through the intermediary of al-Khidir in that of Ahmad ibn Idris.[29] The orders deriving from them have correspondingly short silsila, no names intervening between the Prophet and al-Tijani, and only those of al-Khidir, al-Dabbagh and al-Tazi in the case of Ibn Idris.

Al-Tijani organized his own order, which soon spread from the Maghrib to West Africa, Egypt and Sudan. It did not reach Indonesia until the late 1920s, when it was propagated in West Java by the Medina-born wandering scholar, `Ali ibn `Abdallah al-Tayyib al-Azhari, who had received ijâza to teach the tarékat from two different masters.[30] In the following years, several Indonesians studying in Mecca received initiations and ijâza into the Tijaniyya from teachers still active there. This was after the second Wahhabi conquest of Mecca in 1924, and most other orders could no longer function publicly.

The Tijaniyya, being more reformist and opposed to the cult of saints, was apparently still tolerated. In Indonesia, the Tijaniyya met with strong opposition from other orders but went on growing, with Cirebon and Garut in West Java and Madura with Java’s eastern salient as centres of gravity. During the 1980s it experienced a period of rapid growth, especially in East Java, leading again to conflicts with teachers of other tarékat.[31]

Ahmad ibn Idris’ teachings lived on in a number of related but distinct orders, of which the Sanusiyya, established by his student Muhammad ibn `Ali al-Sanusi, became the most renowned. Other lines of affiliation use the names of Ahmadiyya, Idrisiyya or Khidriyya. Through Ibn Idris’ Meccan khalifa Ibrahim al-Rashid (d. 1874) and his successor Muhammad ibn `Ali al-Dandarawi (d. 1909), this sufi tradition first spread to Southeast Asia. It gained a substantial following in various parts of the Malay Peninsula.

Tuan Tabal, a scholar from Kelantan, was the first to introduce the Ahmadiyya upon his return from Mecca in the 1870s. In the following decades, Tuk Shafi`i of Kedah and Muhammad Sa`id al-Linggi of Negeri Sembilan followed suit. Since then, the Ahmadiyya has retained a presence in various parts of the Peninsula.[32] The various Ahmadiyya branches in present Malaysia and Singapore have retained contact with the mother lodge in Dandara in Upper Egypt.

The sufi method of Ahmad ibn Idris later reached Indonesia by another channel. In the early 1930s, the Sundanese kiai `Abd al-Fattah returned from Mecca, where he had met Ahmad al-Sharif al-Sanusi, the grandson of the founder of the Sanusiyya. Ahmad al-Sharif had given him an ijâza to teach this order in Indonesia, and told him that he had earlier despatched another khalifa to South Celebes.[33]

In order to avoid problems with the colonial authorities, who were likely to associate the Sanusiyya with the anti-Italian resistance in Cyrenaica, Kiai `Abd al-Fattah named his tarékat Idrisiyya. It has remained a relatively small order, now led by `Abd al-Fattah’s son Kiai Dahlan, with the centre in Pagendingan, Tasikmalaya (West Java) and a few local branches, where the followers appear also mostly to be of Tasikmalaya origins.[34]

The dhikr of the Idrisiyya is performed standing, with a loud voice and violent bodily movements, and it is common for the participants to enter trance states. This is quite unlike the Egyptian Sanusiyya, which frowns upon ecstasy and where the dhikr is serene and controlled, but it strongly resembles the Malaysian (and Egyptian) Ahmadiyya, which has an equally ecstatic dhikr. (The prayers of both orders, of course, are identical; they are those composed by Ahmad ibn Idris). This is probably due to contacts between Kiai `Abd al-Fattah or Kiai Dahlan and their Malaysian colleagues after the Idrisiyya was established in West Java. Kiai Dahlan acknowledges that he introduced various other reforms in the order, such as the prescription of distinctive dress and a ban on smoking.

Local tarékat
Besides the large, “international” orders, several orders of purely local character have emerged, some of them syncretic in doctrine and practices. It is not possible to draw a sharp boundary separating local tarékat from kebatinan movements, apart from the former’s explicit attachment to the Islamic tradition. Most of the local orders are considered as unorthodox by the other tarékat, either because their teachings are suspected to deviate from the sharî`a or because they lack a sound silsila. In order to disassociate themselves from local sects of suspect orthodoxy, a number of large orders have united themselves in an association of “respectable” (mu`tabar) tarékat, with silsila and sharî`a-adherence as the major criteria for membership.

One local tarékat apparently influential in the late 19th century was the Akmaliyya (or Haqmaliyya), which had its following mostly in the Cirebon-Banyumas zone, where the Sundanese and Javanese cultures meet. It was suspected by the Dutch of anti-colonial agitation and is repeatedly mentioned in intelligence reports. Three leading teachers were arrested and exiled; after that, it was not heard of for some time.[35] It resurfaced in Garut, where it was taught by Kiai Kahfi and his son Asep Martawidjaja, who expounded the teachings of the order in a long didactic text in Sundanese, Layang Muslimin jeung Muslimat. From Garut it spread to various parts of Java where survives in a number of small groups. The Akmaliyya firmly adheres to wahdat al-wujûd metaphysics and considers `Abd al-Karim al-Jili’s Al-Insân al-Kâmil as the most authoritative doctrinal text. It has also a distinctive meditational technique, not found in the other orders.[36]

A number of new local orders emerged in East Java after independence, the best known among them the Siddiqiyya and the Wahidiyya. Both seem in part to reflect a turn from active politics to quietist mysticism and a change from confrontation between strict and nominal Muslims to more accommodating methods of gradually incorporating the latter into the umma. The Siddiqiyya is led by Kiai Mukhtar Mu`ti of Ploso, Jombang (East Java), who had previously studied various tarékat and acquired a reputation as a magical healer.

He claims that the Siddiqiyya is based on teachings he received in the mid-1950s from a certain Syu`aib Jamali, who hailed from Banten and was a descendant of Yusuf Makassar. The Shiddiqiyah therefore allegedly continues Yusuf’s tarékat practices, but Kiai Mukhtar also gives a Qadiriyya wa Naqshbandiyya silsila for his teacher. His doctrinal teachings are presented in a form much adapted to Javanese folk culture, and the mystical exercises taught consist of long litanies to be recited, followed by breathing exercises.[37]

The Wahidiyya was “founded” by Kiai Abdul Madjid Ma`ruf of the pesantren (Islamic school) Kedunglo in Kediri in the early 1960s. Its major devotion consists of the recitation of a long prayer (salawât) composed by Kiai Abdul Madjid, allegedly under divine inspiration. The collective recitations of this salawât generate an intensely emotional atmosphere, causing the devotees to weep loudly and seemingly uncontrollably. In spite of strong reservations on the part of other ulama, the Wahidiyya rapidly gained adherents among the common folk of Kediri and spread all over East Java.[38]

It is of course not only in Java that local tarékat have emerged. They are to be found throughout the country, in various gradations of orthodoxy and incorporating varying amounts of local pre-Islamic tradition.[39] Wahdat al-wujûd mysticism is condemned by most present ulama as heretical, but it is still much alive among the rural population that has not been much influenced by reformist Muslim teaching. Time and again mystical sects teaching a variety of wahdat al-wujûd emerge. Many are shortlived and disappear under the pressure of the orthodox, only to re-emerge years later under the same or another name. South Kalimantan is one region that appears to be particularly fertile ground for the emergence of such sects. M. Nafis al-Banjari’s Al-Durr al-Nafîs constitutes the scriptural base for various of these sects, of which presently the best-known is the tarékat Junaidiyya, previously known as Aliran Zauq, which was introduced a generation ago by Haji Kasyful Anwar Firdaus.[40]

Do the Tarékat Have a Future?
Tarékat with mass following used to be a rural phenomenon, and the numbers of followers appear to have reached peaks in times of crisis. In recent years, the introduction of electricity, television, metalled roads and cheap motorized transport in the villages appears to have significantly weakened the following of previously popular tarékat in certain regions, though by no means everywhere.

On the other hand, some of the tarékat have found a new following among the urban population, and not only among its most traditional segments. Certain tarékat teachers appeal to an educated public and have found disciples among the highest social circles. Curing of problems such as drug addiction and healing of psychosomatic disorders constitute one of the activities through which they attract numerous new disciples to their tarékat. Partially overlapping with this group, there are people of Muslim modernist or secular backgrounds who, feeling dissatisfied with the rational but unemotional religious atmosphere in which they grew up, seek direct, emotional religious experience in a tarékat.

Some tarékat also fulfill a number of functions that are not religious even in a loose sense. Each tarékat is also a social network, and membership in a tarékat yields a number of potentially useful social contacts. Especially for recent migrants to the city, the tarékat network may prove useful in finding work, a place to live, help in difficulties, etcetera. The tarékat is for some members also a replacement of the family, offering the warmth and protection they do not find elsewhere. The gradual demise of traditional society appears not, as has at times been assumed, to cause the inevitable decline of the tarékat but rather to give them new social functions and entire new categories of followers.

________________________________________
[1] Two articles surveying, from different perspectives, the debate and various theories proposed are: G.W.J. Drewes, “New Light on the Coming of Islam?”, Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 124 (1968), 433-459, and Syed Farid Alatas, “Notes on Various Theories Regarding the Islamization of the Malay Archipelago”, The Muslim World 75 (1985), 162-175.

[2] The best overview of the emergence and development of the sufi orders is still J. Spencer Trimingham’s The Sufi Orders in Islam (Oxford University Press, 1971).

[3] A.C. Milner, “Islam and the Muslim state”, in: M.B. Hooker (ed), Islam in Southeast Asia (Leiden: Brill, 1983), pp. 23-49.

[4] Pim Schoorl, “Islam, Macht en Ontwikkeling in het Sultanaat Buton”, in: L.B. Venema (editor), Islam en Macht. Assen: Van Gorcum, 1987, pp. 52-65.

[5] Anthony H. Johns, “The Role of Sufism in the Spread of Islam to Malaya and Indonesia”, Journal of the Pakistan Historical Society 9 (1961), 143-161; idem, “Islam in Southeast Asia: Reflections and New Directions”, Indonesia 19 (1975), 33-55.

[6] Ph.S. van Ronkel, “Account of Six Malay Manuscripts of the Cambridge University Library”, Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 6e volgreeks, 2 (1896), 1-53.

[7] These texts have been edited with translations by G.W.J. Drewes: Een Javaanse Primbon uit de Zestiende Eeuw (Leiden: Brill, 1954); The Admonitions of Seh Bari (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1969); An Early Javanese Code of Muslim Ethics (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1978).

[8] Syed M. Naquib Al-Attas, The Mysticism of Hamzah Fansuri (Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya University Press, 1970); G.W.J. Drewes & L.F. Brakel, The Poems of Hamzah Fansuri (Dordrecht-Holland: Foris, 1986).

[9] C.A.O. van Nieuwenhuijze, Samsu’l-Din van Pasai (Leiden: Brill, 1945).

[10] Anthony H. Johns, The Gift Addressed to the Spirit of the Prophet (Canberra: ANU, 1965).

[11] Takeshi Ito, “Why did Nuruddin ar-Raniri leave Aceh in 1054 A.H.?”, Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 134 (1978), 489-491.

[12] Raniri’s mystical views are analyzed in: Ahmad Daudy, Allah dan Manusia dalam Konsepsi Syeikh Nuruddin Ar-Raniry (Jakarta: Rajawali, 1983); Syed Muhammad Naquib Al-Attas, A Commentary on the Hujjat Al-Siddiq of Nur Al-Din Al-Raniri (Kuala Lumpur: Ministry of Culture, 1986).

[13] C. Snouck Hurgronje, De Atjèhers (Batavia: Landsdrukkerij & Leiden: Brill, 1894), vol. II, 256-264 describes Rifa`iyya-related practices (debus) in late 19th-century Acheh which may belong to a second incursion of the order, well after Raniri’s time. The same practices became popular in Banten (West Java) in the mid-18th century, see Martin van Bruinessen, “Shari`a Court, Tarekat and Pesantren: Religious Institutions in the Banten Sultanate”, Archipel 47 (1994).

[14] D.A. Rinkes, Abdoerraoef van Singkel. Bijdrage tot de Kennis van de Mystiek op Sumatra en Java (Dissertation Leiden, 1909).

[15] Snouck Hurgronje’s observations in the second volume of his Mekka (The Hague, 1889) still constitute the most detailed and valuable source on the social and intellectual life of the Jawah community in Mecca.

[16] See Anthony H. Johns, “Friends in Grace: Ibrahim Al-Kurani and `Abd Ar-Ra’uf Al-Singkeli”, in: S. Udin (ed.), Spectrum: Essays Presented to Sutan Takdir Alisjahbana (Jakarta: Dian Rakyat, 1978), pp. 469-85, and the same author’s articles “al-Kurani” and “al-Kushashi” in the Encyclopaedia of Islam.

[17] Martin van Bruinessen, “The Tariqa Khalwatiyya in South Celebes”, in: Harry A. Poeze & Pim Schoorl (eds.), Excursies in Celebes (Leiden: KITLV Press, 1991), pp. 251-270.

[18] The Arabic original of this work, Al-Manaqib al-Kubra, may be lost, but numerous manuscript copies of the Malay version are extant. This Malay text is edited in Ahmad Purwadaksi’s dissertation, Ratib Samman dan Hikayat Syekh Muhammad Samman (Fakultas Sastra UI, Jakarta, 1992).

[19] Thus the Malay Hikayat Syekh Muhammad Samman, see Purwadaksi, op. cit., pp. 335-6.

[20] See van Bruinessen, “The Tariqa Khalwatiyya …”.

[21] The Meccan teachers of the Naqshbandiyya and the Qadiriyya wa Naqshbandiyya receive extensive coverage in my book Tarekat Naqsyabandiyah di Indonesia (Bandung: Mizan, 1992, English edition forthcoming at KITLV Press, Leiden).

[22] This argument is presented in more elaborate form in Martin van Bruinessen, “Shari`a Court, Tarekat and Pesantren: Religious Institutions in the Banten Sultanate” Archipel 47 (1994).

[23] The said local text, Sya`ir Perang Mèntèng, is edited in: M.O. Woelders, Het Sultanaat Palembang, 1811-1825 (‘s Gravenhage: Nijhoff, 1975), pp. 194-222.

[24] Described in Helius Sjamsuddin, “Islam and Resistance in South and Central Kalimantan in the Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries”, in: M.C. Ricklefs (ed.), Islam in the Indonesian Social Context (Clayton, Centre for Southeast Asian Studies, Monash University, 1991), pp. 7-17. The text of the râtib used is translated in P.J. Veth, “Het Beratip Beamal in Bandjermasin”, Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsch-Indië 3 no.1 (1869), 331-349.

[25] Sartono Kartodirdjo, The Peasants’ Revolt of Banten in 1888. ‘s Gravenhage: Nijhoff, 1966.

[26] Kenneth Robert Young, The 1908 Anti-Tax Rebellion in Minangkabau (West Sumatra): A Socio-Economic Study of an Historical Case of Political Activism Among Indonesian Peasants (Ph.D. thesis, University College, London, 1983); Werner Kraus, Zwischen Reform und Rebellion: Über die Entwicklung des Islams in Minangkabau (Westsumatra) Zwischen den Beiden Reformbewegungen der Padri (1837) und der Modernisten (1908) (Wiesbaden:Franz Steiner Verlag, 1984), pp. 170-200.

[27] The propagation of these tarekat throughout the Archipelago is discussed in detail in van Bruinessen, Tarekat Naqsyabandiyah. Cf. Martin van Bruinessen, “The Origins and Development of the Naqshbandi Order in Indonesia”, Der Islam 67 (1990), 150-179.

[28] See the extensive critique of the concept in R.S. O’Fahey & Bernd Radtke, “Neo-Sufism Reconsidered”, Der Islam, forthcoming, and the discussion in R.S. O’Fahey, Enigmatic Saint: Ahmad ibn Idris and the Idrisi Tradition (Evanston, Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 1990), pp. 1-9.

[29] Jamil M. Abun-Nasr, The Tijaniyya: A Sufi Order in the Modern World (London: Oxford University Press, 1965); O’Fahey, Enigmatic Saint; Trimingham, Sufi Orders, pp. 107-116. Ibn Idris was taught one brief prayer by al-Khidir, in the presence of the Prophet; he took other prayers and techniques from his human teacher `Abd al-Wahhab al-Tazi, whose teacher `Abd al-`Aziz al-Dabbagh had similarly received them from al-Khidir.

[30] G.F. Pijper, “De Opkomst der Tidjaniyyah op Java”, in Pijper, Fragmenta Islamica (Leiden: Brill, 1934), pp. 97-121.

[31] Moeslim Abdurrahman, “Tijaniyah, Tarekat Yang Dipersoalkan?” Pesantren V no.4 (1988), 80-89.

[32] Hamdan Hassan, Tarekat Ahmadiyah di Malaysia. Suatu Analisis Fakta Secara Ilmiah (Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1990).

[33] I have in vain tried to find remnants of the Sanusiyya or Idrisiyya in South Sulawesi. The well-known Bugis `alim Muhammad As`ad (d. 1953) did meet Ahmad al-Sharif and even became his secretary for a brief period before returning to Sulawesi in 1928; he does not appear to have taught the tarekat, however. See Muh. Hatta Walinga, Kiyai Haji Muhammad As’ad: hidup dan perjuangannya (Skripsi Sarjana, Fakultas Adab, IAIN Alauddin, Ujung Pandang, 1401/1980).

[34] Mustafsirah Marcoes, Perkembangan Tarekat Idrisiyyah di Pesantren Fat-hiyyah Pagendingan Tasikmalaya (Skripsi Sarjana, Fakultas Ushuluddin, IAIN Syarif Hidayatullah, 1984).

[35] The writings of these three teachers, Hasan Maulani of Lengkong, Malangyuda of Rajawana Kidul and Nurhakim of Pasir Wetan, which were confiscated, are analyzed in G.W.J. Drewes, Drie Javaansche Goeroe’s. Hun Leven, Onderricht en Messiasprediking (Dissertation, Leiden, 1925).

[36] For more detailed information on the Akmaliyya and possible origins of its technique of meditation, see my “Najmuddin al-Kubra, Jumadil Kubra and Jamaluddin al-Akbar: Traces of a Kubrawiyya Influence in Early Indonesian Islam”, Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde, forthcoming.

[37] The mystical exercises are described in Syafi’ah, Tareqat Khalwatiyyah Shiddiqiyyah di Desa Losari Kecamatan Ploso Kabupaten Jombang (Skripsi Sarjana, Fakultas Ushuluddin, IAIN Sunan Kalijaga, Yogyakarta, 1989). See also Qowa’id, “Tarekat Shiddiqiyyah: Antara Kekhusyukan dan Gerakan”, Pesantren IX, No.1 (1992), 89-96.

[38] Abdurrahman Wahid, “Penelitian Pesantren Kedunglo, Kodya Kediri”, Bulletin Proyek Agama dan Perubahan Sosial no.4 (Jakarta: LEKNAS-LIPI, 1977), 18 26; Moeslim Abdurrahman, “Sufisme di Kediri”, in: Sufisme di Indonesia [=Dialog, edisi khusus] (Jakarta: Badan Penelitian dan Pengembangan Agama, Departemen Agama R.I., 1978), pp. 23-40.

[39] A number of these local tarekat are described in Djohan Effendi, “Über Nichtorthodoxe und Synkretistische Bruderschaften im gegenwärtigen Indonesien”, in: Werner Kraus (ed.), Islamische Mystische Bruderschaften im heutigen Indonesien (Hamburg: Institut für Asienkunde, 1990), pp. 100-130.

[40] Ahmad Zaini H.M., Aliran Zauq di Kabupaten Hulu Sungai Utara (Risalah Sarjana Muda, Fakultas Ushuluddin, IAIN Antasari, Banjarmasin, 1975); H.D. Mirhan, Tarekat Junaidy di Halong Dalam Agung Harnai. Sebuah Studi Perbandingan (Skripsi Sarjana, Fakultas Ushuluddin, IAIN Antasari, Banjarmasin, 1983).


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