RELIGIOUS MODERATION vis-à-vis WASATHIYAH

Religious moderation consists of two words: “moderation” and “religious.” The word “moderation” comes from the Latin “moderatio,” which means “in the middle,” not excessive, and not lacking. In a more technical or operational definition, “moderation” is an attitude and self-control that is neither excessive nor deficient. However, many people are more familiar with the English noun “moderation,” which signifies being in the middle and not excessive.

In the Islamic tradition, the term moderation is known as “wasathiyah,” referring to attitudes and actions that are neither excessive nor biased. “Wasathiyah” implies fairness, balance, and proportionality. As expressed by Ibn Faris Al-Qazwaini in Mu’jam Maqayisi Al-Lughah:

“بِنَاءٌ صَحِيْح يَدُلُّ عَلى الْعَدْلِ وَالنِّصْفِ”

“The correct construction of language shows the meaning of justice and the middle.”

Ibn Faris’ definition is concise, simple, and easy to understand compared to those of other Arabic language experts like Ibn Manzhur. Over the last 14 centuries, the definition of “wasathiyah” has not changed significantly, as the term is enshrined in the Quran and has become a foundational teaching concept with its own terminology. Thus, the concept of “wasathiyah” serves as a principle and standard of behavior that every Muslim must adhere to. Every Muslim is required to adopt a moderate stance, free from intolerance and discrimination. As stated in Surah Al-Baqarah (2:143):

وَكَذٰلِكَ جَعَلْنٰكُمْ اُمَّةً وَّسَطًا لِّتَكُوْنُوْا شُهَدَاۤءَ عَلَى النَّاسِ وَيَكُوْنَ الرَّسُوْلُ عَلَيْكُمْ شَهِيْدًاۗ وَمَا جَعَلْنَا الْقِبْلَةَ الَّتِيْ كُنْتَ عَلَيْهَآ اِلَّا لِنَعْلَمَ مَنْ يَّتَّبِعُ الرَّسُوْلَ مِمَّنْ يَّنْقَلِبُ عَلٰى عَقِبَيْهِۗ وَاِنْ كَانَتْ لَكَبِيْرَةً اِلَّا عَلَى الَّذِيْنَ هَدَى اللّٰهُۗ وَمَا كَانَ اللّٰهُ لِيُضِيْعَ اِيْمَانَكُمْۗ اِنَّ اللّٰهَ بِالنَّاسِ لَرَءُوْفٌ رَّحِيْمٌ

“And it is thus that We appointed you to be the community of the middle way so that you might be witnesses to all mankind and the Messenger might be a witness to you. We appointed the direction which you formerly observed so that We might distinguish those who follow the Messenger from those who turn on their heels. For it was indeed burdensome except for those whom Allah guided. And Allah will never leave your faith to waste. Allah is full of gentleness and mercy to mankind.”

Additionally, in Surah An-Nisa (4:171):

يٰٓاَهْلَ الْكِتٰبِ لَا تَغْلُوْا فِيْ دِيْنِكُمْ وَلَا تَقُوْلُوْا عَلَى اللّٰهِ اِلَّا الْحَقَّۗ اِنَّمَا الْمَسِيْحُ عِيْسَى ابْنُ مَرْيَمَ رَسُوْلُ اللّٰهِ وَكَلِمَتُهٗۚ اَلْقٰهَآ اِلٰى مَرْيَمَ وَرُوْحٌ مِّنْهُۖ فَاٰمِنُوْا بِاللّٰهِ وَرُسُلِهٖۗ وَلَا تَقُوْلُوْا ثَلٰثَةٌۗ اِنْتَهُوْا خَيْرًا لَّكُمْۗ اِنَّمَا اللّٰهُ اِلٰهٌ وَّاحِدٌۗ سُبْحٰنَهٗٓ اَنْ يَّكُوْنَ لَهٗ وَلَدٌۘ لَهٗ مَا فِى السَّمٰوٰتِ وَمَا فِى الْاَرْضِۗ وَكَفٰى بِاللّٰهِ وَكِيْلًاࣖ

“People of the Book! Do not exceed the limits in your religion, and attribute to Allah nothing except the truth. Isa Al-Masih, son of Maryam, was only a Messenger of Allah, and His command that He conveyed unto Maryam, and a spirit from Him. Believe in Allah and His Messengers, and do not say: (Allah is a) trinity. Give up this assertion; it would be better for you. Allah is indeed just one God. Far be it from His glory that He should have a son. To Him belongs all that is in the heavens and in the earth. Allah is sufficient for a guardian.”

The views and attitudes of moderation in Islam have been taught since the Quran was revealed and practiced by the Prophet Muhammad SAW, 14 centuries ago. As a concept, moderation in Islam has undergone significant development since the Science of Kalam flourished in the second and third centuries Hijri, followed by discourses on Tafsir, Hadith, Fiqh, Usul Fiqh, Sufism, and Maqashid Sharia until the eighth century Hijri, at the end of the Classical Islamic era.

Various sects within the science of Kalam have developed their own theories of moderation, such as Mu’tazilah, Ash’ariyah, and Shia. These three sects have played a crucial role in transforming Kalam into a philosophical discourse within Islam. This indicates that individuals who mature in the science of Kalam will adopt a wise approach to differences. Conversely, those with a superficial understanding of Kalam may display intolerance, as evidenced by the Khawarij group in the early Islamic era, who assassinated Ali bin Abi Thalib on January 27, 661 AD, for opposing their views. Similarly, contemporary Salafis often misinterpret rationalist Islam as dogmatic, treating religion in a rigid, mathematical manner. Intolerant groups such as Khawarij, Salafi, Taliban, and extremist organizations like ISIS, Boko Haram, and Al-Qaeda view religion dogmatically, interpreting Quranic verses in a narrow, normative sense. They consider all Jews and Christians as eternal enemies based solely on the linguistic construction of the text, neglecting the context of the verses’ revelation.

This extreme reliance on translated versions of the Quran, particularly those disseminated on social media, often results in a limited understanding. Translations can narrow readers’ comprehension, especially for fundamentalist and extremist groups lacking proficiency in Arabic. This restricted understanding complicates the acceptance of moderate religious perspectives. Additionally, these groups often reject interpretations from outside their own circle, labeling dissenters as liberal and contrary to Islamic teachings.

If left unchecked, attitudes opposing moderation can pose significant dangers to Indonesia’s diversity. Such views may foster “tatharruf,” or extremism, also known as Ghuluw in Shia tradition. Non-moderate attitudes can lead to intolerance and ultimately to extremist behavior, potentially inciting violent acts against those who oppose them.

Moderate attitudes, on the other hand, position religion as a subject requiring in-depth study, allowing for perspectives grounded in rationalism. For moderates, religion encompasses not only transcendental faith but also rational understanding.[]

RELIGIOUS MODERATION IN ISLAM: An Introduction

When discussing Islam, we can view it from various perspectives, including a doctrinal one that pertains to monotheism. The doctrinal area refers to faith or belief held transcendentally, accepted without rationalization. However, in subsequent stages, we can rationalize this belief when transitioning from the realm of monotheism to theological-kalam discourse, a process known as rationalizing dogma. The potential risk associated with this discourse is the possibility of societal division, especially when theological-kalam discussions intersect with political ideologies. Historical instances, such as the Muktaziliyan, Asy’ariyan, Maturidiyan, Khawarij, and Shia sects, illustrate the intolerance faced by earlier generations, beginning with Washil bin Atha (700-748 AD). Theological-Kalam reached its maturity in the 2nd century Hijri through constructive scientific debates, unlike the deconstructive debates observed in contemporary Indonesian issues, such as the persecution related to the Ba’alawi lineage, where fanatical supporters targeted Ki Imad’s group.

Returning to the discussion of doctrine, scholars define Islam as a monotheistic religion that teaches the oneness of Allah SWT and acknowledges the Prophet Muhammad SAW as the final Prophet and Messenger, with the Qur’an revealed through His Prophet’s Sunnah. As quoted from Tafsir Ath-Thabari:

“Allah SWT revealed the Qur’an to the Prophet Muhammad SAW through the Angel Gabriel. It is said, ‘wa Ma Yanthiqu ‘An Al-Hawa’ – with ‘hawa’ meaning lust.”

In the context of doctrine, religion as a belief system is grounded in holy books. For Islam, this belief system is constructed based on the Qur’an and Sunnah. The Sunnah represents the contextualization of revelation through the exemplary actions of Muhammad SAW and his statements, which are considered explanations of revelation:

“And he does not speak out of (his own) desire. It is not but revelation revealed [to him]…” (An-Najm 53:3-4)

As a system of faith, Islam asserts the truth of the concept of tauhid or oneness as explained by theologians, and similarly, other religions have the right to claim the validity of their own faith concepts.

Each religion’s belief system is a private matter, and maintaining this privacy is a form of tolerance, which stems from a moderate stance. The common thread in religious ideological privacy is rationalism and openness. Rationalism in Islam is exemplified by theological philosophy, or kalam science, which seeks to rationalize faith, dogma, and belief systems regarding God. This rational concept of faith demands that adherents explore the realm of divinity through philosophical means. Dogma, traditionally taken for granted in a transcendent way, is examined critically through rational faith, known in Islamic theology as “alamul uluhah.”

Muslims who achieve intellectual status are those who excel in philosophical reasoning and thus attain wise thinking and openness. Openness is a prerequisite for religious moderation, especially concerning tolerance. It is challenging, as it requires elevating one’s belief system to a rational faith system. Remaining within dogma often leads to conflicts about whether religions share teachings of virtue or if all religions are the same. This perspective faces strong resistance from fundamentalist and traditionalist groups. Fundamentalists and traditionalists view the Words of God and Hadith as normative concepts, while rationalists, particularly those studying Maqashid Syariah, see them as frameworks for welfare and justice. Each verse of the Qur’an is interpreted within its conceptual framework of welfare and justice.

For example, consider the verse:

[هُنَّ لِبَاسٌ لَكُمْ وَأَنْتُمْ لِبَاسٌ لَهُنَّ] (البقرة: 187) “They are clothes for you, and you are clothes for them.”

Traditionalists interpret this verse as supporting the husband’s sexual rights, while fundamentalists may see it as evidence that heaven is forbidden to wives who disobey their husbands. In contrast, rationalist groups, such as those relying on Maqashid Syariah Lin Nisa, interpret this verse as a framework for husband-wife relations in both domestic and public contexts, emphasizing mutual support and cooperation in a marriage. The verse is seen as promoting sexual activity as a source of happiness rather than a burden, highlighting the importance of mutual satisfaction.

In the concept of muamalah (relationships), Islam also envisions welfare, which extends to human relations and interactions with the environment. Distinctions are made between domestic and public relations. Domestic relations include interactions between husband and wife, parents and children, and extended family. Domestic welfare, in popular and religious terms, is expressed as sakinah, mawaddah, wa rahmah (SAMAWA). Sakinah refers to peace without hostility, aiming to resolve and prevent conflicts. This will be the focus of the next discussion.

Women’s and Children’s Rights Crisis in the Middle East

Nearly a month has passed since the world was shaken by the assassination of Ismail Haniyeh, the Head of the Political Bureau of Hamas, one of the fourteen resistance groups in Palestine. The most concerning aspect of this tragic event is its location—Tehran, Iran—which could have serious repercussions for Middle Eastern security, with the potential for the conflict to spiral out of control.

Israel, through its Mossad agents, has been linked to this assassination, a claim that surfaced just a day after Ismail was found dead. Israel has neither confirmed nor denied these accusations, likely aware of the severe consequences such an admission would bring. The silence from Israel only heightens the tension.

Two critical points have emerged: first, Ismail Haniyeh’s death was clearly a calculated and deliberate act, as evidenced by the explosion that killed him; second, the fact that this occurred in Tehran further complicates the situation, representing a violation of Iran’s sovereignty under international law.

This incident does not merely implicate Iran in failing to secure Ismail Haniyeh’s safety, nor does it serve as an effective provocation against Iran. Instead, it has unified the Iranian people in their resistance against Israel, as seen in the mass turnout for the funeral prayer in Tehran, led by Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and the widespread prayers held across the Islamic world, from the Middle East to Southeast Asia.

In July 2024, Israel also claimed responsibility for the death of Fuad Syukri, a senior Hezbollah commander in South Lebanon. However, Fuad’s death did not generate the same level of global or regional impact, as it was perceived as a localized conflict between Hezbollah and Israel within Hezbollah’s stronghold.

In contrast, Ismail Haniyeh’s assassination has triggered a harsh global response because he symbolized the resistance of Palestinian women and children, who have suffered immensely due to Israel’s war.

The most urgent issue here is the impact of Netanyahu’s aggressive policies on the people of Gaza, especially women and children. Since the war began last year, over 50,000 people have died, 70 percent of whom are women and children. Gaza has become a living hell, wrought by human cruelty. Netanyahu’s actions are not only destroying Gaza’s people but also the future of his own nation. Growing support for Gaza is increasingly morphing into an anti-Jewish movement, harming both Israelis and Palestinians, as their economies are ravaged. The regional impact is severe, affecting countries like Egypt, Iraq, Syria, Palestine, and Lebanon, while Iran’s proxies complicate matters further.

Take Egypt, for instance. Even without war, the country teeters on the brink of collapse, burdened by a paralyzed economy, rampant corruption, and overwhelming national debt. The government’s insistence on funding a new capital project valued at an astronomical $57 billion USD (892 trillion rupiahs), largely covered by the national budget, only worsens the situation. This project infringes on the people’s right to a decent life, as guaranteed by the Egyptian constitution. The wars on Egypt’s borders, between Israel and Hamas, and in Eastern Europe between Russia and Ukraine, have deepened the humanitarian crisis. With inflation hitting an irrational 30 percent in 2023, the state can no longer control the market. A loaf of bread that once cost 25 Qirs now costs 3 Egyptian pounds—a twelve-fold increase. The once-subsidized grain that fed families now merely staves off hunger. Egypt is drowning in debt, with the IMF reporting that in 2023, Egypt’s debt exceeded 85 percent of its national income. Imagine the fate of women in Gaza, living at the heart of this conflict. They face famine not just for a day or two, but for nearly a year. They live without a state to protect them. Children, who should be welcomed into the world with joy, are instead born into cries of despair. Their lives are threatened by missiles and artillery shells, demolishing their homes and any hope of survival amidst the destruction wrought by colonial forces.

Meanwhile, national and international media focus on the display of American and allied combat troops ready to support Israel. They highlight aircraft carriers filled with stealth planes and the supposed superiority of Iranian missiles. What is the media truly after—viewer ratings, likes, shares, or subscribers?

Who Can Stop This?

The International Criminal Court (ICC) has issued an arrest warrant for Netanyahu, but this alone seems insufficient to halt what may be the most brutal war of this century—a war against humanity.

Israel and its allies must be held accountable for the destruction they have caused. Israel must rebuild Palestine, transfer security authority to the Palestinians, and recognize it as an independent state. They must also return Palestinian lands seized under Israeli occupation laws.

Israel’s allies, particularly the United States, must push for a two-state solution where Palestine and Israel coexist peacefully. If achieved sincerely and with a sense of humanity, Hamas must also cease its attacks, as these only deepen the suffering of Gazans.

Hamas must also be willing to compromise with other Palestinian groups to reduce internal tensions and egos.

But if a two-state solution is not reached, and there is no unity within Palestine, peace will remain an impossible dream, with each group choosing its own path.

4o

Protection of PLHIV’s Rights Between Political Will, Stigma, and Dogma in Southeast Asia

On August 8th, ASEAN celebrated its anniversary. There are still many problems facing this region, including more problems of human rights violations, ranging from Rohingya refugees who were expelled from their own country, environmental issues that violate the agrarian rights of the community and damage the environment with very broad and permanent impacts, intimidation and terror against human rights activists, sexual violence, or intolerance, to violations of the rights of People Live with HIV (PLHIV).

According to UNAIDS data, around 3.5 million people are living with HIV in the Southeast Asia region. More than 99% of PLHIV in ASEAN reside in five countries: Indonesia, Malaysia, Vietnam, Myanmar, and Thailand. Since 2010, the region has made progress in combating the epidemic, with successful condom programs in most countries.

Between 2010 and 2015, AIDS-related deaths and new HIV infections have decreased in all high-burden countries except Indonesia and Malaysia. Both countries have rarely experienced declines in HIV cases, and these regions are far from achieving the target of being 90% HIV-free by 2020 and ending AIDS by 2030. These two countries, which have the world’s largest Muslim populations, face significant moral barriers in reaching key populations of PLHIV and providing fair access to services for PLHIV from ISPs.

According to the 2018 gender justice assessment in Indonesia, the religious moral views of health workers in several areas remain a barrier to providing equitable health services to groups. Stigma and discrimination in health services also continue to hinder key populations, especially MSM and transgender, from accessing services. Research also highlights the severe impact of discriminatory practices on PLHIV. With 20% of key population cases and 10% of cases at primary health services experiencing high rates of loss to follow-up, it’s clear that stigma and discrimination are significant barriers. Health service providers’ refusal to treat PLHIV in general clinics exacerbates these issues, isolating individuals and undermining their health outcomes.

The 2020 External Study of the Health Sector’s Response to HIV and AIDS in Indonesia (WHO, 2020) highlighted that the incidence and prevalence of HIV among MSM and trans women remain high in most regions. While in Malaysia in the last decade, sexual transmission became the main mode of transmission, and MSM is expected to become the main key population in Malaysia in year 2030 as projected using the Asian Epidemic Model (AEM) 2022 Global AIDS Monitoring, Country Progress Report. Despite improvements in life expectancy, social justice for PLHIV key populations in ASEAN region, including MSM, transgender, and sex workers remains inadequate.

While legal and policy frameworks are insufficient in addressing social justice issues for PLHIV. Local laws and local/regional AIDS commissions fail to mitigate stigma, discrimination, and violence effectively. In Indonesia, the discrimination reflected in the new penal code (KUHP) that exacerbates discrimination by potentially criminalizing LGBT individuals, sex workers, and women, which hinders HIV response efforts. Additionally, there has been no transformation in the working methods and perspectives of health workers, as biased moral views remain an obstacle to achieving the specific goal of reducing discrimination against PLHIV.

All in all, discrimination in health services, and stigma from law, government and religious figures, combined with a lack of protective laws, perpetuates social injustice and barriers for PLHIV to access service. Therefore, addressing stigma and discrimination in service provision through participation of religious figures to transform the perspective of health service providers is essential to improving access to and quality in HIV services.

Various interfaith meetings have been held by religious leaders from various influential institutions in each country in the Southeast Asian region, but they have not discussed much about the rights of PLHIV. In the future, so that meetings of religious leaders are not just lip service, there must be courage for influential religious leaders to mobilize religious organizations to voice the importance of various health services that can be accessed by PLHIV.

قَالَ رَسُولُ اللهِ صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّمَ: “مَنْ عَادَ مَرِيضًا أَوْ زَارَ أَخًا لَهُ فِي اللهِ، نَادَاهُ مُنَادٍ: أَنْ طِبْتَ، وَطَابَ مَمْشَاكَ، وَتَبَوَّأْتَ مِنَ الْجَنَّةِ مَنْزِلًا”.
(رواه الترمذي وقال: حديث حسن، وفي بعض النسخ غريب).

I heard Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) saying, “Whosoever visits an ailing person or a brother of his to seek the Pleasure of Allah, an announcer (angel) calls out: ‘May you be happy, may your walking be blessed, and may you be awarded a dignified position in Jannah”. [At- Tirmidhi, who categorized it as Hadith Hasan].

Basically, every religion has arguments from holy books that support protection for PLHIV, as above; it’s just the political will of religious leaders in the Southeast Asian region in using religious arguments that support PLHIV services or, on the other hand, turning their backs on the humanitarian message in holy books.

Women in Islam: Hiding Her Story

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The discussion of women in Islam is a highly charged one. It is an issue infected with Orientalist and Islamophobic rhetoric about the assumed inferiority and subjugation of women intrinsic in Islam. Patriarchal and oppressive cultural norms are often couched in religious terminology and deemed “Islamic” in order to justify and validate them. However, notions that Islam is inherently oppressive to women are contradicted not only by an in-depth analysis of the Qur’ān but also by extensive evidence that demonstrates that women, during the formative years of Islam, enjoyed a high standing and were included in every aspect of life.

From the time of Prophet Muhammad, there were thousands of women scholars and jurists who exercised the same authority as men and taught male and female disciples, including judges and caliphs.1 Women who lived during the time of the Prophet, whose life example is seen by Muslims as the most perfect manifestation of the spirit of the Qur’ān,2 felt they had full rights and used to go to the mosque, pray next to men, pray in close proximity to the Prophet, fight in battles, teach men and women, move about freely, and interrupt scholars as they spoke to ask questions for which they demanded answers.

All this history has been forgotten or deliberately buried and erased. Recently, a conservative Sunni scholar of hadīthSheikh Mohammad Akram Nadwi, found written evidence of the existence of over nine thousand prominent women scholars and jurists who lived during the formative era of Islam. While in residence at the Oxford Centre for Islamic Studies, Nadwi produced a forty-volume work on Muslim women scholars, jurists and prayer leaders.

This scholar, who studied in a traditional madrasa in Lucknow, India, came across countless mentions of women in early hadīth manuscripts and thus began to investigate, taking a detour from his intended work. He first assumed the detour would be a short one and that he would produce a small volume. However, he kept discovering more and more women scholars and concluded that “he does not know of another religious tradition in which women were so central, so present, so active in its formative history.”3

Nadwi explains that for centuries, women traveled intensively, fulfilling their religious duty of seeking knowledge and attending prestigious mosques and madrassas throughout the Islamic world.

Nadwi discovered a reality that surprised him and that is, unfortunately, quite different from the one many Muslim women experience today, primarily due to mistaken interpretations that aim at preserving patriarchal systems. Nadwi explains that for centuries, women traveled intensively, fulfilling their religious duty of seeking knowledge and attending prestigious mosques and madrassas throughout the Islamic world. The fact that over nine thousand women scholars were found by chance and are mentioned in writing means that there were countless more. It is commonly known that men did not want the names of their wives or daughters published.

Some interesting examples of the women scholars discovered by Nadwi are the following: In Samarkand, during the 12th century, Fatimah As-Samarqandiyyah, trained by her father in hadth and fiqh, used to teach men and women, train judges, and judge court cases. She also issued fatwās and advised her well known husband on how to issue his.

Another woman scholar, Umm Al-Darda, was a companion of the Prophet and a prominent jurist and hadth scholar in seventh-century Damascus and Jerusalem. Among her students was the caliph ‘Abd al-Mālik ibn Marwān. Umm Al-Darda was declared by Iyas ibn Mu’āwiya Al-Muzani, a qāḍī (Muslim judge) of undisputed ability and merit, known for her immense cleverness, to be a scholar superior to all the other scholars of the period.

In Medieval Mauritania, there is evidence of hundreds of girls who memorized books of fiqh by heart. Fatimah al-Batainiyyah was a fourteenth century Syrian scholar who taught men and women in the Prophet’s mosque in Medina. Students traveled from all over the Muslim world, some from as far as Fez, to study with her. She used to lean against the Prophet’s tomb as she taught, placing herself right beside the Prophet’s head.

A remarkable woman who took extremely seriously the duty to seek knowledge was Fatimah bint Sa’d al-Khayr. She traveled all over Asia studying with various prominent teachers, including another woman scholar in Isfahan, Fatimah al-Juzdaniyah, who was the primary narrator of a massive thirty-seven-volume hadth collections of Al-Tabarani. Al Juzdaniyah was a student of al-Tabarani, who characterized her scholarship as possessing one of the highest chains with the shortest links to the Prophet in her lifetime, which Fatimah bint Sa’d al Khayr learned and began to transmit as well.4

Throughout his life, the Prophet himself was surrounded by women he greatly respected. He constantly worked to raise their status. Ibn Ḥaẓm (994-1064), an Andalusian scholar who produced a reported four-hundred works on Islamic jurisprudence, history, ethics, comparative religion, and theology, cites a number of hadīths that prove that in the days of the Prophet, women moved freely and prayed next to men, a practice that has been curtailed today because it is viewed as “un-Islamic.”

Ibn Ḥaẓm describes a hadth where Caliph Umar wanted to prevent women from going to the mosque and was sternly rebuked by his father who stated it would be against the Prophet’s wishes. A hadth from the Prophet also narrated by Ibn Ḥaẓm states, “Do not prevent the women from going out to the mosques at night.” Ibn Ḥaẓm said that if the Prophet did not prevent women from going to the mosque, then it would be “a sin and bid’ah to do so in one’s own authority.”5

Ibn Hazm adduces a number of traditions that prove that in the days of the Prophet, women frequented the mosque together with men. He reports that, during this time, should anything happen during prayer, such as an error made by the imam, “men should praise God and women should clap their hands.” Similarly, a hadth reported in the Book of Muslim states that Umm Hisham said “I memorized sura Qaf from hearing it from the Prophet Muhammad because he used to recite it during his sermon on Fridays.” This is a clear indication that Umm Hisham stood in close proximity to the Prophet as there were no microphones or loudspeakers at the time. Finally, Ibn Abbas, the paternal cousin of the Prophet reported in a hadth with a strong chain of narration that “A beautiful woman, from among the most beautiful of women, used to pray behind the Prophet.”6

A striking example of the status and independence women had during the Prophet’s time is that of Nusaybah bint Kaab. Nusaybah was legendary for her bravery and military skills. She fought in numerous battles and in the battle of Uhud, saved the Prophet’s life. She was wounded severely while defending the Prophet and he said, “whenever I looked to my right or left, I would find Nusaybah fighting defensively” and praised her for her courage. Nusaybah was unwilling to stay at home while her husband and son went to battle, so she decided to join them. At first, her intention was to tend to the wounded and bring water to the warriors, but later, she proved invaluable in the battlefield and turned out to be highly skilled with the sword.7

It is thus clear from these and many other cases of female agency and freedom in the Islamic premodernity, that the problem of oppression does not lie in Islam and is not advocated by the Qur’ān.

It is thus clear from these and many other cases of female agency and freedom in the Islamic premodernity, that the problem of oppression does not lie in Islam and is not advocated by the Qur’ān. In fact, far from subjugating women, the Qur’ān can and should be read as liberating. It is not necessary to resort to secular or Western-style feminism to “empower” Muslim women. It is, however, of crucial importance to engage in interpretations that are in accordance with the Qur’ānic spirit.

Professor Asma Barlas, Ethica College NY

The strong refusal in the Qur’ān to perpetuate the religious depictions of God as a father-figure that exist in Judaism and Christianity, and the refusal to engender and sexualize God, can be understood as militating against patriarchy, which Asma Barlas considers to be “the chief instrument of women’s oppression in Muslim societies.”8

Barlas eloquently explains that it would be absurd for a God who is above sex and gender, who is Most Compassionate and Merciful, and will not transgress against the rights of others, to privilege men and take sexual partisanship. Even more absurd would be that this God should advocate the oppression of women. Not only does the Qur’ān not oppress women, “but it also affirms that women and men originated in the same self, have the same capacity for moral choice and personality and, as God’s vice-regents on earth, have a mutual duty to enjoin the right and forbid the wrong.”9

Not only does the Qur’ān not oppress women, “but it also affirms that women and men originated in the same self, have the same capacity for moral choice and personality and, as God’s vice-regents on earth, have a mutual duty to enjoin the right and forbid the wrong.”

The Qur’ān encompasses “a horizon of ethical possibilities and [counsels] to read it for its best meanings.”10 To put it simply, all interpretations that women should be subjugated, or their movements limited, or their choices controlled by men are erroneous interpretations: “Any religious opinion that tries to limit the rights or opportunities of any group of people is a false interpretation.”11

1  Nadwi, Mohammad Akram. Al-Muhaddithat: The Women Scholars in Islam. Oxford: Interface Publications, 2014.
2  His wife Aisha called him “the walking Qur’ān.”
 3  Power, Carla. If the Oceans Were Ink. New York: Holt Paperbacks: 2015, p. 130.
4  To clarify: Fatimah bint Sa’d al-Khayr was considered (by the student of Tarabani) to have one of the most reliable chains of transmission for the hadiths she narrated. Meaning, the hadiths she narrated were sound, and with relatively few links between the transmitter and the Prophet himself. It is essential for hadiths to have a sound chain of transmission (i.e., those who passed on the Prophet’s sayings must be reliable in character and sound mind and also, their narrations must have been confirmed by others…of course the closer in time to the Prophet the better a hadith’s chain is).
5  Marin, Manuela and Deguilhem, Randy, Eds. Writing the Feminine: Women in Arab Sources. London, New York: I.B. Tauris, 2002, p. 82., p. 83.
6  This hadīth was judged authentic by Sheikh Al-Albaani in his Silsilat Ahadeeth (Saheehah #2472). This hadīth was narrated by Ibn Majah, Abu Dawud, Attayalisy, Ahmad, and Tirmidhi among others.
7  Lings, Martin. Muhammad: His Life Based on the Earliest Sources. London: Inner Traditions, 2006, p. 181.
8  Barlas, Asma. “Uncrossed bridges: Islam, feminism and secular democracy.” Philosophy and Social Criticism 39(4-5) 417–425, 2013, p. 421.
9  Ibid.
10 Ibid.
11 Abdulhameed, Sultan. The Qur’ān and the Life of Excellence. Denver: Outskirts Press, 2010, p. 207.

________________

Bibliography

Abdulhameed, Sultan. The Qur’ān and the Life of Excellence. Denver: Outskirts Press, 2010.

Barlas, Asma. “Uncrossed bridges: Islam, feminism and secular democracy.” Philosophy and Social Criticism 39(4-5) 417–425, 2013. 

Lings, Martin. Muhammad: His Life Based on the Earliest Sources. London: Inner Traditions, 2006.

Marin, Manuela and Deguilhem, Randy, Eds. Writing the Feminine: Women in Arab Sources. London, New York: I.B. Tauris, 2002.

Nadwi, Mohammad Akram. Al-Muhaddithat: The Women Scholars in Islam. Oxford: Interface Publications, 2014.

Power, Carla. If the Oceans Were Ink. New York: Holt Paperbacks: 2015.

Source: https://insidearabia.com/women-in-islam-hiding-her-story/?fbclid=IwAR08tBUyb9xIfn5tZbRVMpo67Q1lgR8PHBGToNmY7WqvKFhCuq59-_cN2Gk

Tilik and the gender order crisis

Tilik (The Visit, 2018), a short movie directed by Wahyu Agung Prasetyo, is a viral sensation in Indonesia. Within two weeks of being posted on YouTube, it attracted more than 20 million views.

 

The film follows a group of village women taking a trip to the city on the back of a truck to visit their female village head in hospital. During the journey, the women gossip about Dian, a pretty young woman in the village.

 

Tilik has stirred a public debate not only around representation of women and femininity but also around feminism in general. A number of feminists, including Intan Paramaditha and Feby Indirani, criticised the film for reinforcing negative stereotypes of women: that they are gossipers and annoyingly chatty, spread hoaxes, and lack media literacy.

 

Paramaditha, for example, invited her followers to situate the feminine stereotyping in the film in the larger context of cultural production, in which gender perspectives are almost absent. Feminist criticism of the film unfortunately turned into a heated, in some cases ugly, public debate involving feminists, film critics, and social media users. Even among feminists, views were divided on the film’s representation of gender.

 

The debate about Tilik is indicative of the unresolved crisis in Indonesia’s gender order. In my previous research on representations of ideal masculinities in Indonesia, I suggested that 2000-2014 was a vital period marked by a crisis in the gender order. During this period, ideological battles to secure hegemonic gender ideals intensified on various fronts, including cinema.

 

Six years on, the crisis remains unresolved, as the public debate stirred by Tilik demonstrates. This is indicated, on one hand, by the development of feminist film criticism and efforts to integrate gender perspectives into filmmaking, as a force to challenge stereotypical cinematic depictions of gender. And on the other hand, the debate is driven by a strong backlash attempting to preserve the status quo pattern of gender relations.

 

Gender order crisis is a concept in gender studies explaining processes of change in the pattern of gender relations. At the time of crisis, a gender order can be destroyed or restored by the outcome of the crisis.

 

Feminism has been an important force provoking changes in Indonesia’s “official” gender order, which centres on the family principle. The authoritarian New Order regime provided important institutional support to the maintenance of the official gender order. It did so by, for example, institutionalising men’s and women’s gender roles in the 1974 Marriage Law and supporting institutions that reinforced women’s reproductive role, like Dharma Wanita and the Family Welfare Movement (PKK).

 

Movements to advance women’s status and rights, motivated by feminist ideas, were allowed to develop only to a limited extent. For example, the regime facilitated the establishment of a junior ministry for women’s affairs in the late 1970s, following global pressure to promote women’s roles in state governance and politics. But the ministry had little power and a small budget.

 

When Soeharto’s authoritarian regime finally fell, state restrictions on feminist movements lessened. Feminism and its supporters become highly visible and stronger in post-authoritarian Indonesia. Feminists such as Musdah Mulia and Lies Marcoes Natsir were at the forefront of public debate surrounding Megawati Soekarnoputri’s rise to presidency and the affirmative action policy of a 30% quota for female candidates in elections.

 

Feminists have been instrumental in transforming the legal architecture, too, for example in the formulation and implementation of Law No. 23 of 2004 on the Elimination of Domestic Violence, and in advocacy for the gender equality and elimination of sexual violence bills.

 

In cinema, feminist filmmakers such as Nia Dinata and Mouly Surya have challenged masculine perspectives in filmmaking and representations of gender on the silver screen. Feminist film criticism, led by notable figures like Intan Paramadhita and Novi Kurnia, has also become as a strong force in raising awareness of gender perspectives and equality in cinema.

 

But the increasing visibility and significance of feminism has not been without contest. Ideological contestation surrounding gender relations has become extremely heated in post-authoritarian Indonesia. For example, growing Islamisation has fostered the development of Muslim feminist networks, while also posing challenges to the struggle for gender equality. Islamic discourse is often used to argue against laws aiming for gender equality and elimination of gender-based violence.

 

In cinema, too, Islamic discourse, among others, has been used to attack films that are critical of conventional gender relations, such as Nia Dinata’s Arisan! (2003), and Hanung Bramantyo’s Perempuan Berkalung Sorban (2009).

 

The criticism of Tilik offered by feminist film critics, and the backlash against them and feminism in general, is part of this gender order crisis. While feminist film critics attempted to inspire changes in Indonesian cinema and the broader cultural landscape, their ideas were criticised as foreign, elitist or unsuitable for Indonesia. They were accused of being social justice warriors and of ruining the fun of film consumption.

 

In several cases, the backlash against feminist film critics devolved into ad hominem attacks and catcalling. Unfortunately, such attacks are common against feminists on social media, especially those who vocally and critically engage with issues of gender inequality and gender-based violence. For example, Indonesian Solidarity Party (PSI) politician Tsamara Amani has repeatedly been subject to the same treatment when she has posted support for gender equality and the bill on the elimination of sexual violence.

 

Feminists and their opponents are engaged in a fierce battle for public opinion. Feminists are trying to inspire changes to realise gender equality, while their opponents attempt to preserve the established gender order. Advances in information and communication technology have made these ideological battles more visible and able to generate more extensive public engagement.

 

By placing the public debate around Tilik in the context of the gender order crisis, we can see that Indonesia is undergoing a critical period of social change. The deeply rooted pattern of gender relations fortified by the New Order is no longer taken for granted, despite its continued dominance. The official gender ideals projected by the state are being strongly challenged by emerging alternatives.

 

However, as the gender order crisis is unresolved, we are yet to see whether the existing gender order will be fundamentally transformed. What is certain, however, is Tilik will not be the last film to spark controversy for its depiction of gender relations.

 

Evi Eliyanah is a faculty member at Universitas Negeri Malang. Her research areas of interest include gender and cultural studies.

 

Source: https://indonesiaatmelbourne.unimelb.edu.au/tilik-and-the-gender-order-crisis/

Why we’ve created new language for coronavirus

From ‘covidiots’ to ‘quarantine and chill’, the pandemic has led to many terms that help people laugh and commiserate.

 

Throughout history, challenging circumstances have given rise to new ways of expressing those challenges. George Eliot, the 19th Century writer who was famously frustrated by rigid gender and lifestyle norms, is credited with the first recorded use of the word ‘frustrating’. More recently, Brexit led to a flowering of new words, including the inevitable ‘Bremain’ and ‘Bregret’, and a repurposing of existing words, such as ‘backstop’.

While Brexit may be the closest parallel, the speed of the linguistic change we’re seeing with Covid-19 is unprecedented, says Robert Lawson, a sociolinguist at Birmingham City University. Lawson attributes this to multiple factors: the dizzying pace at which the virus has spread, its dominance in the media and global interconnectivity at a time when social media and remote contact are so important.

Many of the newly popular terms relate to the socially distanced nature of human contact these days, such as ‘virtual happy hour’, ‘covideo party’ and ‘quarantine and chill’. Many use ‘corona’ as a prefix, whether Polish speakers convert ‘coronavirus’ into a verb or English speakers wonder how ‘coronababies’ (the children born or conceived during the pandemic) will fare. And, of course, there are abbreviations, like the ubiquitous ‘WFH’ and the life-saving ‘PPE’.

Old words in a new light

Like everyone else, lexicologists are scrambling to keep up with the changes the pandemic has wrought. According to Fiona McPherson, the senior editor of the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), back in December ‘coronavirus’ appeared only 0.03 times per million tokens (tokens are the smallest units of language collected and tracked in the OED corpus). The term ‘Covid-19’ was only coined in February, when the WHO announced the official name of the virus. But in April, the figures for both ‘Covid-19’ and ‘coronavirus’ had skyrocketed to about 1,750 per million tokens (suggesting that the two terms are now being used at roughly the same frequency).

Innovative signs: In the UK, 'covidiots' is being used to described those ignoring social distancing rules

All of the terms added to the OED in April, in an unscheduled update, were related to the pandemic in some way, including ‘infodemic’ and ‘elbow bump’. But McPherson notes that the only actual new word added to the dictionary is ‘Covid-19’. The others are pre-existing terms that have gained new resonance at a time when many people are subject to a ‘stay-at-home order’ (US), ‘movement control order’ (Malaysia) or ‘enhanced community quarantine’ (Philippines).

“Although a lot of the words we’re using just now and a lot of the terminology is actually older, a lot of it seems fairly new. ‘Coronavirus’ itself goes back to the 1960s,” she points out.

What McPherson calls the “nuancing of already existing words” can in some cases be subtly harmful. War metaphors invoking ‘battles’ and ‘front-lines’ are being widely applied to the pandemic, yet thinking only in terms of a wartime emergency can detract from longer-term structural changes needed. This has given rise to the project #ReframeCovid, in which linguists collect crowdsourced examples of alternatives to war language.

Inés Olza, a linguist at the University of Navarra in Spain, says she started the project spontaneously on Twitter. She understands the temptation to invoke war metaphors, especially at the start of the pandemic when they were necessary to build unity and mobilise swiftly. But “a sustained use of that metaphor and abuse of it, and the lack of alternative frames, might generate anxiety and might distort things about the pandemic”, she believes.

As well, terms such as ‘natural disaster’ and ‘perfect storm’ can create the impression that the pandemic was inevitable and unavoidable, neglecting the political, economic and environmental contexts that make certain people more exposed. Some healthcare workers have expressed their frustration at being called ‘heroes’, rather than seen as complex, frightened individuals doing a job, who need protective equipment and policy rather than relying on their own sacrifices.

In some cases the language being used isn't appreciated: this US healthcare worker is protesting against a lack of PPE

In some cases the language being used isn’t appreciated: this US healthcare worker is protesting against a lack of PPE

“Speakers are free to use the metaphors they want,” Olza emphasises. “We are not censors.” But she and some of her fellow linguists believe that it’s useful to reflect on language and to have alternative framings for discussing the pandemic – beyond militaristic language that can obscure the roles of individuals and communities, and toward expressions that communicate collective care and individual responsibility. She says that Germans have been especially good at finding non-war terms. German’s compounding of terms, for instance, has allowed for one-off words like ‘Öffnungsdiskussionsorgien’ (‘orgies of discussion’) to describe the seemingly endless policy debates over reopening.

Why humour helps

Overall, there’s a wealth of linguistic creativity that hasn’t yet entered the dictionary, but reflects the role of novel language as a coping mechanism. These innovative usages, Lawson says, “allow us to name whatever it is that’s going on in the world. And once you can name the practices, the events, the social conditions around a particular event, it just gives people a shared vocabulary that they can all use as a bit of a shorthand. I think ultimately if you can name it, you can talk about it; and if you can talk about it, then it can help people cope and get a handle on really difficult situations”.

Writer Karen Russell has found the newly ubiquitous term ‘flatten the curve’ to be reassuring – a reminder of the importance of both individual and collective action, which “alchemizes fear into action”. And both the practice and the terminology of ‘caremongering’, used for instance in Canadian and Indian English, allow for an alternative to scaremongering.

Beyond earnest words like these, a kind of slightly anxious humour is central to many of the ‘coronacoinages’. The German ‘coronaspeck’, like the English ‘Covid 19’, playfully refers to stress eating amid stay-at-home orders. The Spanish ‘covidiota’ and ‘coronaburro’ (a play on ‘burro’, the word for donkey) poke fun at the people disregarding public health advice. ‘Doomscrolling’ describes the hypnotic state of endlessly reading grim internet news. Lawson’s favourite, ‘Blursday’, captures the weakening sense of time when so many days bleed into each other.

I don’t think that by having a little bit of light in the dark, people are making light of the situation – Fiona McPherson

Australian English, no stranger to light-hearted abbreviations, has produced ‘quaz’ for ‘quarantine’ and ‘sanny’ for ‘sanitiser’. Queer and black communities, so often a wellspring of linguistic innovation, have given rise to ‘Miss Rona’ as a slang term for the virus. And for the unsayable, there are always emojis. The folded hands emoji, the medical mask emoji, and the microbe emoji (yes, that exists) have all become more popular during the pandemic.

Some of these emojis and terms might seem flippant, but “I don’t think that by having a little bit of light in the dark, people are making light of the situation”, says McPherson. Lawson agrees: “If you can laugh at them, it makes things more manageable almost, and just helps with people’s psychological health more than anything else.”

Linguists believe that many of the terms currently in vogue won’t endure. The ones with a stronger chance of sticking around post-pandemic are those that describe lasting behavioural changes, such as ‘zoombombing’, which is influenced by ‘photobombing’ and describes the practice of invading someone else’s video call. McPherson reckons that ‘zoombombing’ could become a generic term (like ‘hoovering’ up a mess) even if the company Zoom loses its market dominance.

Ingenuity with vocabulary can also communicate that the current hardships, like many of the coronacoinages, won’t last forever. Olza has taken to referring to the tasks on her ‘corona-agenda’, which can be a subtle way of asking for people’s patience with her temporarily disrupted schedule. Eventually “I will get my usual agenda back,” she says hopefully.

Until then, bring on the quarantinis.

 

Source: https://www.bbc.com/worklife/article/20200522-why-weve-created-new-language-for-coronavirus?fbclid=IwAR3THL4GNH09TJFD2ieXlBN1basBk-8m6TPO4S2dSzzpvGfWsld-j7UQvOM

Hard times for pesantren facing Covid-19

As Indonesia began the new school year this month, face-to-face classes were still on hold. Most primary and secondary students in the public system are still required to join lessons online.

 

No in-depth research has been done on the impact of the Covid-19 pandemic on educational institutions in Indonesia but it is likely that Islamic boarding schools, or pesantren, are the worst affected, not least because most are simply not able to teach online.

 

I asked managers at 150 pesantren in several regions across Indonesia about their experiences during the pandemic. All were part of a network run by the Centre for Study of Islam and Society (PPIM) at Syarif Hidayatullah State Islamic University (UIN) Jakarta, where I work.

 

My brief survey produced some interesting results. Unlike state schools, many pesantren have already reopened to students for face-to-face learning. This is true even in regions regarded as Covid-19 “red zones”, like Jakarta and East Java. Pesantren managers said they reopened because of pressure from parents who wanted their children to return as soon as possible.

 

But there were other reasons for re-opening, too, and one of the most important relates to the unique character of pesantren as community business institutions as well as religious educators. “Pesantren have to think about the economic realities of people whose livelihoods depend heavily on the school operating, such as teachers, traders who supply goods, and the surrounding communities who open food stalls and other businesses to meet the needs of the boarders,” one manager said.

 

The unique character of pesantren also explains why they have been hit harder by Covid-19 than other schools, especially state schools.

 

First, as one manager complained, the funding for pesantren education comes mainly from student fees and community donations. “At state schools it is easier because the teachers’ salaries are paid by the government. Pesantren cannot pay wages if there are no boarders.” Considering that many students at these schools are from underprivileged backgrounds, with families likely suffering the heavy economic impacts of Covid-19, we can assume that this will have affected pesantren revenues too.

 

Second, in the new Law on Pesantren (No. 18 of 2019), pesantren are described as having five distinctive structures: 1) kyai (Islamic scholars and religious leaders) as figures of scholarly authority; 2) the mosque as the centre of activity for religious teaching; 3) santri, or boarders, who study in the pesantren; 4) a curriculum based on kitab kuning, or classic Islamic scholarly texts, and on Islamic studies; and 5) dormitories for the students.

 

This means education in pesantren takes place not only in the classroom, but in also everyday interactions, while playing sport, and while sharing space in the dormitories. This is what another manager meant when he said: “In pesantren, we practice 24-hour education.” It means official advice to practice physical distancing to prevent the spread of Covid-19 has not been easy for pesantren managers to apply in reality, especially at the many pesantren where there are lots of students but only limited dormitory facilities.

 

Third, pesantren have very limited capacity to make use of information technology and conduct online learning. Most have very little information technology infrastructure, and the digital literacy of teachers and students is often weak. In fact, in many of these schools, students are not even allowed to use gadgets like mobile phones and laptops, as they are considered distractions. In any case, many students’ families cannot afford electronic devices, even for learning purposes.

Gontor under pressure

So how have pesantren fared in practice? One notable example is the well known Gontor Modern Pesantren in Ponorogo, East Java, which saw a cluster of Covid-19 cases, starting from a single student who was infected via his family. According to the school’s Covid-19 spokesperson, Adib Fuadi Nuriz, all students and teachers who contracted the virus have fully recovered and have since returned to the pesantren.

 

Students returning to Gontor in the new school year have had to self-quarantine at home for 14 days and undergo a PCR test before being allowed back. The school also arranged special transport to pick up students from cities across Indonesia to prevent the risk of contracting the virus on the road.

 

Once they arrive at the pesantren, students are required to follow health protocols, such as wearing masks, washing their hands regularly and practicing physical distancing when praying.

 

What is interesting about this case is that Gontor Modern is likely the most modern, best-equipped and well-prepared pesantren in Indonesia, complete with strict health protocols and its own Covid-19 taskforce. Despite this, 86 students still contracted Covid-19. What must the situation be like for other pesantrens that are nowhere near as well funded or well prepared?

 

The Gontor Modern case is a warning that Islamic boarding schools across Indonesia urgently need help. The government has already allocated Rp 2.3 trillion (AU$215 million) to help pesantren tackle Covid-19, but considering the risks they face, these funds will be stretched very thin.

 

The Covid-19 crisis has demonstrated that the government now needs to work closely with pesantren to develop a roadmap for handling unexpected challenges. It has also exposed a desperate need to raise digital literacy and access to information technology in pesantren, while still protecting the special character of these schools.

Source: https://indonesiaatmelbourne.unimelb.edu.au/hard-times-for-pesantren-facing-covid-19/?fbclid=IwAR38yEQp2SkTC1HWsu_xCcBNuX9U8o28pwBM_DLt9VNXumZ5Jq6OA74diBU

Child marriage surges amid Covid-19 and growing conservatism

Indonesia is experiencing a surge in child marriages. By June, 24,000 applications for permission to marry underage had been lodged with district and religious courts this year – more than two and a half times the total number for the whole of 2012.

 

This escalation goes against significant recent improvements in the legal framework, policies and public campaigns, as well as the government’s stated aim to reduce the prevalence of child marriage from 11.2% to 8.7% by 2024.

 

Court clerks cite teen pregnancies and last year’s amendment to the 1974 Marriage Law as reasons for the higher number of requests to marry young.

 

Under the 1974 Marriage Law, the minimum age of marriage was 19 for boys and 16 for girls, provided they had permission from their parents. The 2019 amendments raised the minimum marriageable age for girls to 19, with parental permission, bringing it into line with the minimum for boys (Article 7(1)). However, the revised law still allows parents to ask courts for special dispensation for their children to marry before 19 if there are “pressing reasons” (Article 7(2)).

 

Many factors drive child marriage in Indonesia. Poverty, education, the stigmatisation of sexuality outside marriage, religious convictions, local perceptions about marriageable age, and even ‘mutual love’ (suka-sama-suka) among teen couples all play a role in rates of child marriage.

 

The Ministry of Women’s Empowerment and Child Protection has expressed concern that increased economic pressure from Covid-19 may be leading parents to push their children to marry young, to reduce the economic burden on their households. A trend that idealises young marriage, promoted by conservative religious groups and on social media, is another factor.

 

The Manpower Ministry reported that more than 3.5 million workers had been laid off by 31 July, with the number predicted to rise to 5.5 million by year-end. Indonesia’s poverty rate is expected to increase to 9.7 per cent by September, meaning that 1.3 million more people will be pushed into poverty.

 

The impacts of this for children are frightening. Unicef predicts that the increase in poverty in Indonesia will worsen child malnutrition, affecting children’s physical and mental development. It will increase the risk of 9.7 million children dropping out of school. Economic decline, combined with lack of formal education, may drive parents to urge their children to marry young, especially girls.

 

At the same time, Indonesia is experiencing a surge of religious conservatism that is driving a backlash against legal efforts to support gender equality and end child marriage. For example, the ‘Indonesia Without Dating’ (Indonesia Tanpa Pacaran) movement encourages young adults to avoid dating and focus on serving God. It has attracted more than a million followers on Instagram. Its social media content pairs fairy-tale images of romantic love with slogans that encourage young marriage as a way to avoid the temptation of pre-marital relations.

 

An idealised view of young marriage is also promoted by social media influencers. Sabrina Salsabila, a teenager from West Java who married at 16, has amassed more than 74,000 subscribers on YouTube and more than 133,000 followers on Instagram, where she shares airbrushed images of her glamorous, globetrotting life as a young bride. Despite facing some public criticism, her young followers continue to express their desire to follow her path.

 

Conservative family values may also be a factor. A study of 61 dispensations for underage marriage in 2017-2018 conducted by students and a lecturer at Gadjah Mada University’s Faculty of Law found that the majority of those marriages were instigated by parents who felt that their children had dated long enough, and were concerned about the potential for pre-marital sex. In cases of teen pregnancy, child marriage was pushed by families as an immediate solution. In other words, some families’ moral values conflict with legal protections against child marriage.

 

Further, Indonesian family law is a complex patchwork of national, customary (adat), religious, and Dutch colonial laws. While the revised Marriage Law sets a clear minimum age of 19 for boys and girls, and only allows child marriage with court approval, adat and religious laws have their own definitions and guidelines. Although the courts do not recognise them, these alternative legal systems are another cause of the high number of underage marriage applications across Indonesia.

What can be done? 

The amendment to the Marriage Law, and a subsequent Supreme Court regulation that provided guidance for judges in deciding marriage dispensation proceedings, were hard-won achievements in the fight to end child marriage in Indonesia. For more than 40 years, through five administrations, the Marriage Law remained unchanged, as lawmakers and politicians avoided the sensitive issue.

 

If it were not for the efforts of a relentless civil society movement that drafted and promoted amendments to the Marriage Law, and a group of victims of child marriage who filed a judicial review application with the Constitutional Court, these changes would never have happened.

 

As the government responds to Covid-19, efforts for economic recovery must include assistance to prevent more families falling into poverty, as well as efforts to ensure children’s right to formal education is fulfilled. Further work must be done to provide adequate and sensible sexual and reproductive health education in schools and communities.

 

Addressing conservative religious and customary values is a much more challenging task. The government cannot rely on top-down, bureaucratic programs to address the issue. Local context matters. The government should facilitate village and religious leaders, parents, teachers and young people to come up with community-based programs to respond to the local situation.

 

Victims’ stories of child marriage and the impact it had on their lives were compelling for the Constitutional Court when it decided the marriageable age of 16 for girls was unconstitutional. Victims should be provided with more opportunities to tell their stories to their peers, to debunk false images of blissful child marriage.

 

It is also essential to create a broader and more frequent discourse on child marriage, providing opportunities for conservative groups to sit together with opponents of child marriage. Influencers could also be recruited to spread messages on social media to counter the narrative of conservative groups.

 

Indonesia has made remarkable progress in improving the legal and policy framework to protect children from child marriage. But as recent figures have shown, policy change is not enough on its own. To prevent further backsliding, a serious effort will be required – and soon.

 

Source: https://indonesiaatmelbourne.unimelb.edu.au/child-marriage-surges-amid-covid-19-and-growing-conservatism/?s=08

COVID-19 kills as stigma harms families and society

On June 17, Kompas TV reported that hundreds of people had intercepted an ambulance and threatened to set it on fire and forcibly remove the remains of a person who had died after being exposed to COVID-19. It seems they thought they would suffer major problems if the body was buried under COVID-19 protocols. They would, perhaps, be under constant observation by public health personnel and the COVID-19 task force, and their village might be locked down. They might be prohibited from leaving their homes or their neighborhood. They felt they might be shunned by residents of other villages and not even allowed on the roads passing through other villages. Not only might they be ostracized, but the acknowledgement that one of their residents had died of COVID-19 could lead to restrictions on their access to normal activities, including earning a living.

Elsewhere, in a separate report, a COVID-19 victim’s family forcibly brought the remains home from the hospital and prepared the body for burial in accordance with their religious beliefs. They feared that the treatment of the body at the hospital had not followed the procedures required by their religion since the family had not been allowed to witness the process. They could not accept the fact that the body had been placed in a coffin, which they associated with the burial traditions of another religion. The family worried that they would be ostracized because the body had not been prepared according to religious tenets.

Such incidents as these, I believe, require a solution, because seizing mortal remains in this way is extremely dangerous. It was reported that 15 of the people involved in the process of bathing and wrapping the body later tested positive for COVID-19, and their village did, in fact, become a cluster under observation.

During my studies of Medical Anthropology in Amsterdam, we discussed topics such as these in our epidemiology class, viewing them as a cultural issue. “Illness” is actually more than merely the physical condition of a person who is unhealthy. It also involves traditional and cultural values and ways of thinking, which cause the illness to carry a range of other problems, such as prejudice and stigma.

One of the most ancient stigmas was that associated with leprosy. Historically, leprosy originated in Europe, the Middle East, Africa, Latin America and Asia, particularly India, and then spread throughout the world, including to Indonesia. This disease arrived with the era of colonialism in the 19th century. The bacterium responsible for the disease was first identified by a Swedish scientist in 1837. The traffic of persons between continents in the context of colonialism brought a variety of diseases with it caused by bacteria such as leprosy. The response required not just addressing the disease caused by the “leprae” bacteria but also addressing the additional disasters caused by fear and stigma. To address the spread of the disease and also to stop the “hunting” of lepers, the colonial government built special leprosy hospitals. This followed the model set by a Catholic order that built leper colonies on isolated islands. To reduce stigma and ostracism, these special leprosy hospitals were sometimes called “Lazarus Homes”, taking the name of Saint Lazarus, the patron saint of lepers.

Going beyond the issue of disease, leprosy later became a term to convey racial hatred. Leprosy was used as a metaphor to justify the ostracism or eradication of groups seen as belonging to the “other” on the basis of race, ethnicity or other distinguishing features. Even though leprosy can now be controlled with treatment and quarantine, this metaphor for hatred is still used as an excuse for eliminating others.

In the history of communicable diseases, the stigma is often more malevolent than the disease itself. People living with HIV provide a good example. The legendary singer Freddie Mercury had to keep his illness a secret until just before he died. Although the stigma of persons with HIV is not quite as severe as that of leprosy, a person still needs to think very thoroughly before publicly declaring they have HIV or even a disease considered more common, such as tuberculosis. The “informed consent ” procedure is therefore applied to protect a person’s confidentiality.

Stigma arises along with myth and prejudice. Stigma can be so strong that the patient’s family may also suffer from it. They may repeatedly deny or cover up the fact that someone in their family suffers from a disease that is stigmatized. Experience teaches us that the impact of stigma is often more severe than the disease itself. The sick person will be isolated, shunned or treated as an enemy. The family also suffers shame and humiliation because of the origin or cause of the disease. The custom of pillorying persons with mental problems is one such form of hiding shame. Similar things are often done when a family member has a physical or mental disability.

This sense of shame associated with illness is predictable given the social pressures that are experienced, even though it is not justified. Such feelings are often a form of cowardice of the healthy when they are around someone who is ill. It seems they are unable to imagine the multiple layers of consequences they would face if they did not cover it up. I remember when I was young and living in a village, there was a commotion over the death of a man who died in a firewood storage shed in the middle of a field. It seems the family was trying to hide this old man, a distant relative who was staying with them, because he suffered from acute tuberculosis. The family was afraid they would not be allowed to use the village well. In addition, they were embarrassed that a family member had TB, a “poor people’s disease”. When I was in junior high school, a student below me died from bleeding when her parents tried to perform an abortion because she was pregnant out of wedlock. She was only 13 at the time. The family concealed the pregnancy and did not take her to a doctor when she suffered severe bleeding – all out of a sense of shame.

Feelings of shame or a fear of stigmatization and its consequences, are not only experienced by patients and their families. In the case of COVID-19, fear of being isolated spreads to the wider community, giving rise to collective denial. In other cases, this is done by the authorities in the name of political and economic stability. So, in this situation, the handling of COVID-19 requires not just information about how to combat the spread of the disease but also honesty.

Explanations are needed that will change people’s attitude about COVID-19 so it does not lead to stigma and ostracism. In this regard, the handling of COVID-19 must not only be done by the Ministry of Health but also by institutions that deal directly with the public, such as the Ministry of Home Affairs and the Ministry of Religious Affairs. Here, the methods of NGOs that work to combat discrimination and hate speech can also be employed. Cultural experts must join the struggle! Distancing, yes; ostracism, no!

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Lies Marcoes is a researcher at Rumah Kitab, Jakarta. The original Indonesian version was published on the Rumah Kitab website on June 18.

Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect the official stance of The Jakarta Post.

 

Source: https://www.thejakartapost.com/academia/2020/06/19/covid-19-kills-as-stigma-harms-families-and-society.html?fbclid=IwAR1rVhvaM9sbLOQiJ6UpBe-uWxN76qbXgYT2Rtsw3C9oMUWweHQEESdL-uY