Muslim Nation’s Political Fire Flares From Universities--Not Religion

They came to Al Azhar Mosque by the thousands Friday, the day of Muslim prayer, and when the building filled, they spilled onto the lawn and into the parking lot, spreading rugs and newspapers on the ground and kneeling in prayer.

This day, like many here, was furnace hot and dripping with humidity, and some in the throng moved closer to the spreading banyans and towering palms, seeking shade. They sheltered their children with umbrellas and, between prayers, dabbed at their brows with handkerchiefs.

“We are here to express our gratitude for the change in leadership,” said an unemployed factory worker named Achmad, who had come with his 6-year-old daughter. “I always come to the mosque on Friday. But this Friday is more special than most.”

In this mostly Muslim nation of 200 million people, Islam is a powerful force. Yet it is one that is far more moderate than what has emerged in many Middle Eastern countries. Its power encompasses all aspects of life, from politics to economics, and Indonesia’s new president, B. J. Habibie, gives prominence in his official resume to the fact that he reads the Koran faithfully and in 1983 made the hajj--the pilgrimage to Mecca.

The strength of opposition figure Amien Rais comes, in part, from his leadership of a Muslim organization that has 28 million members. When he appears at student rallies, some admirers fall to their knees in respectful prayer.

But unlike in Iran, where ayatollahs organized the overthrow of Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlavi in 1979, the mosques and religious leadership of Indonesia played little role in the forced departure of President Suharto on Thursday after 32 years in power. This was a popular uprising that was born and nurtured on university campuses.

“Our mosques have never had the political fire you see outside Asia,” said a bank executive at Friday prayers. “It is perhaps a cultural thing. This is a culture that values politeness, respect for authority. We are not revolutionaries by nature.

“Even with the political and economic situation we’ve had,” the executive added, “the speeches in the mosques never criticized Suharto directly or by name. When the government did something wrong, we would offer corrections. But criticizing a leader by name? No, never.”

It is perhaps surprising that even with Suharto now gone from the political arena, Indonesians often still do not feel free to talk openly. Many ask that their names not be used when journalists engage them in casual conversation. Most do not even want to be identified as working for a particular company.

Part of the reason is that they are not sure Habibie will operate much differently than Suharto did, although many seem willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least initially. And part is because, after three decades of authoritarian rule and omnipresent undercover agents, people have been drained of spontaneity and openness.

One of the problems the Suharto regime faced in trying to negotiate its survival was that there were no obvious student leaders to bargain with. This was an uprising that was largely faceless and leaderless, with tomorrow’s plans passed and shared on the Internet.

At demonstrations, when journalists asked to speak to a protest leader, students as often as not looked perplexed. Sometimes they would point to a university professor or a human rights official--without knowing his name.

“There were, of course, students who emerged in leadership roles,” said Marzuki Darusman, co-chairman of the National Commission on Human Rights. “But they didn’t go public because, if they did, they knew they ran the risk of not being around tomorrow.”

No one was more shocked than the students themselves that their demonstrations accomplished so much so quickly. In fact, when the first campus protest was held in February, at Gajah Mada University in the central Javan city of Yogyakarta, it was not even directly about politics.

The students’ discontent focused on economics and the rising prices of food and essentials.

Then, others at the University of Indonesia’s Salemba campus in Jakarta took up the call with small, peaceful rallies. Almost no one, including most of the 400 journalists in Jakarta for Suharto’s reelection in March, paid much attention.