THE FOUNDATION OF THE PARTAI MUSLIMIN INDONESIA by K. E. WARD INTERIM REPORT SERIES Modem Indonesia Project Southeast Asia Program Cornell University Ithaca, New York 1970THE FOUNDATION OF THE PARTAI MUSLIMIN INDONESIA by K. E. Ward INTERIM REPORT SERIES Modern Indonesia Project Southeast Asia Program Cornell University Ithaca, New York 1970© 1970 Cornell Modern Indonesia ProjectPREFACE Cornell's interest in Indonesian Islam goes back many years and was given an early stimulus by the lectures of the late Hadji Agus Salim, who served as visiting professor at the university in 1953. One of the points which he made in his lectures was that, as a political force in his country, Islam had not assumed an importance at all commensurate with the fact that Indonesia was the largest predominantly Islamic country in the world. Hadji Salim was speaking at a time when Indonesia's principal Islamic party, the Masjumi, was yielding cabinet leadership to the first of many cabinets dominated by secular nationalists. Today, seventeen years later, Islamic political power in Indone- sia has become considerably weaker, and the influential Modernist Islamic elements who previously led the Masjumi are without political focus and organization. Despite the fact that Modernist Islamic thinking is still inchoate and insufficiently articulated for political effective- ness, in the judgment of the present army leadership (as was the case with Sukarno) it is perceived as having latent power which if effectively channeled might threaten the present political balance. Attempts in 1966 to revive the Masjumi, which had been outlawed by President Sukarno in 1960, were thus banned by the army-dominated government of President Suharto; for it too re- garded a Modernist-led Islamic party as a potential danger, and its prospects something to be circumscribed and undercut. Finally, in 1968, the Suharto government permitted the estab- lishment of a Modernist-oriented party, the Partai Muslimin Indonesia, but it forbade the men of stature, who had earlier guided Masjumi thinking, to assume leadership of the new party. In describing and analyzing these developments, Mr. K. E. Ward of Monash University has made a significant contribution to our understanding of Modernist Islam's political failure in Indonesia. He has helped clarify why it has been impossible to build a consensus among Indonesia's Islamic leaders as to how Islamic doctrine is to be applied to Indonesia's political and socio-economic development. Mr. Ward's study thus helps one understand why Islam has not become a political force commen- surate with the size of Indonesia's Muslim population. George McT. Kahin Ithaca, New York September 15, 1970 inTABLE OF CONTENTS Page Introduction ............................... .............. 1 Chapter I. Masjumi, 1945-1960 .............................. . 9 II. The Struggle for Rehabilitation...................... 17 III. The Movement Towards a New Party..................... 29 IV. The Party's Development Since Foundation ............ 40 V. The Government and the Party......................... 57 Appendix I. Badan Koordinasi Amal Muslimin ...................... 69 II. Political Parties and Miscellaneous Organizations 71 Bibliography .............................................. 73 vINTRODUCTION Harry Benda remarked several years ago that Javanese Islam ". . . has usually been studied in the elite context, with the peasantry relegated to a more or less stereotyped background. The result has been that most have tended to take a basically Muslim orientation of the Javanese peasantry for granted."1 Although the following discussion of the foundation of the Partai Muslimin Indonesia is largely restricted to an examina- tion of events taking place within this elite context, some preliminary comments are necessary on the nature of Indonesian Islam, particularly as it exists in Central and East Java. The pioneering research of the Harvard group of anthropolo- gists introduced, or at least emphasized, the distinction in Javanese Islam between abangan (nominal Muslims) and santri (devout Muslims). Describing the inhabitants of Modjokuto, the town where his research was centered, Clifford Geertz wrote: "The great majority . . . pronounce themselves to be Muslims. Within this more general category, however, they make a clear distinction between the santri, the pious Muslim who takes his Islam seriously and attempts to keep it free of local adultera- tions, and the abangan, whose main adherence is to . . . the ’Javanese religion'."2 This latter abangan matrix of religious beliefs is an integration of the three major sources of spiri- tual tradition, animism, Hindu-Buddhism and Islam. Abangans show a lack of concern for correctness of religious doctrine, and consequently an unwillingness to condemn the religious be- liefs of others. The abangans have a detached, relativistic attitude towards their own which has been likened to that of the "dilettante ethnologist collecting quaint customs among the heathen."3 4 The abangan religious outlook is a syncretistic, accommodating one which seeks '"truth' but not 'the truth' in all religions.''1* 1. See his introduction to R. R. Jay, Religion and Politics in Rural Central Java (New Haven: Yale University, Cultural Report Series No. 12, 1963), p. iv. 2. Clifford Geertz, "Religious Belief and Economic Behavior in a Central Javanese Town: Some Preliminary Observations," Economic Development and Cultural Change, 4, No. 2 (January 1956), p. 136. 3. Clifford Geertz, The Religion of Java (New York: Free Press of Glencoe, 1960) , p. T27T 4. Benedict Anderson, Mythology and the Tolerance of the Java- nese (Ithaca: Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 1965), p. 3. 12 Among the santris (which originally meant students of reli- gion) , there is overwhelming conviction of "the truth" of Islam, of its unique superiority as the religion chosen by God. There is general belief among the santris that, however necessary are the prescribed ritual acts such as performance of the daily prayers, it is doctrine that is crucial in Islam: "It is not the knowledge of ritual detail or spiritual discipline which is important, but the application of Islamic doctrine to life."5 Santri attitudes towards the abangans are a mixture of exaspera- tion at their failure to follow the simple path necessary to obtain salvation and at their apparent inability to understand the simple, logical truths of Islam which show the error of abangan heterodoxy. This is combined with openly-expressed con- tempt for abangan laxity and ignorance. At the same time, how- ever, there persists the conviction that there is not much that divides abangans from santris. Thus several decades ago, "It was the naive belief of the orthodox Muslim leaders that all Indonesians, other than those under the deep influence of the kaum feodal (feudal elements) or of the West, were as a matter of course basically loyal to Islam and needed only sound in- struction, for which they would be duly grateful, to become good orthodox Muslims."6 There has long existed an over-riding con- fidence in the ability of the santris to convert abangans, that is, to induce abangans to discard heterodox practices; yet little has been achieved so far to justify such self-confidence. The abangan population of Java is scarcely fond of the santri community with its contempt for their beliefs, its in- tolerance of syncretistic tendencies and insistence that abangans will end up in hell if the santri example is not followed.7 Nevertheless, the extent of the Islamness of the abangans is important in considering the size of the Islamic community, the ummat Islam, in Indonesia. Abangans still regard themselves as Muslims, and, until recently, there was no tendency for large numbers of them to abandon their, if only nominal, adherence to Islam and embrace another religion, such as Christianity.8 5. Geertz, Religion of Java, p. 127. This discussion of the abangan/santri dichotomy has been deliberately kept very brief. For a full analysis, see Geertz, Religion of Java. 6. Jay, Religion and Politics, p. 22. 7. "Fanaticism" is an accusation frequently made of the santris, and an abangan asked what his religion is will often reply "Islam," followed by the quick, almost apologetic reassur- ance, "but not fanatic." 8. Anderson noted, "There has been an inescapable loss of caste involved in a Javanese becoming a Christian. . . . Like strongly Islamic santris, Christians are felt to threaten3 Before considering the ummat Islam question, attention must be paid to an important dichotomy within the santri community it- self, that between conservatives and modernists. The conflict between these two groups originated in the trends toward Islamic renewal apparent in Indonesia from the middle of the nineteenth century. Closer contact with the Middle East and its centers of Muslim civilization produced an aware- ness of the extent of the compromise Islam had made in adapting itself to local conditions in Indonesia where, especially in areas that had been more thoroughly exposed to Hindu civiliza- tion, pre-Islamic practices and superstitions survived, virtually unchallenged. But it was especially after the teachings of Middle Eastern reformers such as Muhammad Abduh and A1 Afghani spread to Indonesia that a clear split could be observed between those content with the somewhat diluted Islam of East and Cen- tral Java in particular, and those who wished to purify the religion of heterodox elements.* * * 9 Abduh wished to strip contempo- rary Islam of alien influences and return to the pristine cor- rectness of the Quran and the Hadiths, which were to become the sole authorities for thought and action. But he also wanted to modernize Islamic education by introducing Western subjects such as science and European history to make Islam better able to accept the challenges of the modern world. However, the funda- mentalist, purist approach tended to act in a restrictive capa- city on Islam’s ability to modernize and made Islamic modernism seem unattractively intolerant. Geertz remarked, "This tense intermixture of radical fundamentalism and determined modernism the stability of the traditional order by making claims to social honor which cannot be justified within that order." Mythology and Tolerance, p. 3. 9. See Hamka, Pengaruh Muhammad Abduh di Indonesia (Djakarta: Tintamas, 1958), for a description by a modernist of Islamic conservatism in Indonesia at the end of the last century. Paradoxically, a more tolerant attitude to syncretistic practices such as the communal feast (slametan) is coupled, among the conservatives, with a view on religion and its role in human life generally termed "totalistic," which con- trasts with the modernists’ willingness to grant secular institutions a more considerable significance. Moreover, in contrast with the modernists' attempt to infuse a prag- matic rationalism into their attitude towards Islam, con- servatives have in general a scholastic approach, an ap- proach that emphasizes the role played in life by fate (takdir), rather than human will. For a full analysis of such ideological differences, see Geertz, Religion of Java, pp. 150-159; also Howard Federspiel, Persatuan Islam: Islamic Reform in Twentieth Century Indonesia (Ithaca: Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 1970), pp. 4b-68,et passim.4 is what has made the culminating phases of the scripturalist movement so puzzling to Western observers. . . . Stepping back- ward in order better to leap is an established principle in cultural change. But in the Islamic case the stepping backward seems often to have been taken for the leap itself, and what began as a rediscovery of the scriptures ended as a kind of deification of them. 'The Declaration of the Rights of Man, the secret of atomic power, and the principles of scientific medicine', an advanced kijaji (Islamic teacher) once informed me, 'are all to be found in the Koran'. . . . Islam, in this way, becomes a justification for modernity, without itself actu- ally becoming modern."10 Nevertheless, attacks made by the Indonesian followers of Abduh, anxious both to purify Islamic practice and thought and disseminate secular knowledge as well, were sharp enough to rouse the opposition of the conservatives who, a decade or so after the formation of the modernist socio-educational organiza- tion Muhammadijah, made sufficient compromise with modernist ideas of organization to found their own, the Nahdatul Ulama (NU), to combat modernism. The two major divisions in the body of Indonesians embracing Islam should not be seen as nation-wide dichotomies (the santri-abangan dichotomy, for example, has been thoroughly investigated only in Java). However, consciousness of such divisions has caused, among the santris, a persisting search for unity, for a unified ummat Islam. An ummat is a community of adherents of a certain religion. Thus in Indonesian there is an ummat Kristen (Christian commun- ity) and an ummat Hindu (Hindu community) as well as the ummat Islam. If contemporary Muslim politicians and the Muslim press are heeded, the impression arises that the ummat Islam has played a most significant role in Indonesia's history. Yet rarely is a definition given of what the ummat Islam comprises. The common claim that the Islamic community constitutes over 90% of the Indonesian people suggests that all Muslims, santri and abangan, are included in the concept of an ummat Islam.* 11 In another context, however, the assertion is made that the Islamic community made the greatest contribution to the struggle against the Dutch, which implies a comparison not with the tiny 8-9% of non-Muslims in Indonesia but with, for instance, the secularist parties such as the PNI (Nationalist Party). If it is more realistic to restrict the term ummat Islam to the sup- porters of the Muslim parties and mass organizations (which 10. Geertz, Islam Observed (New Haven: Yale University, 1968), p. 69. 11. For a criticism of this claim, see the statement by Mohammad Hatta in Sinar Harapan, November 19, 1968.5 received 45% of the vote in the 1955 general elections), it is clear that much dissatisfaction exists over the position accorded to Islam in post-independence Indonesia.12 A village santri may feel himself to be part of an Islamic community which . . is seen as a set of concentric circles, wider and wider communities . . . spreading away from the indi- vidual santri where he stands: a great society of equal be- lievers constantly repeating the name of the Prophet, going through the prayers, chanting the Koran."13 But it was long thought that the desire to have the ummat Islam seen as co- terminous with the nation would be achieved by the establishment of an Islamic State in independent Indonesia. There have been two principal arguments presented since 1945 to justify the con- version of the Pantjasila-based Indonesia to one founded on Islam. The first emphasizes that Islam is the religion of the majority of Indonesians. Thus Mohammad Natsir reasoned that, "The constitution of our country must place the state in the closest possible relationship to the living society within our state. That is, the state constitution must be deeply-rooted in the heart, the thought patterns . . . the feelings, beliefs and philosophy of the people." A democratic country should, Natsir continued, "... Above all reflect what is genuinely vital among the people, especially the philosophy of the . . . majority of its people."11* And Islam was, according to Natsir, obviously the philosophy of life of the majority of Indonesians. He continued that if it was true that Indonesia’s religious minorities should not have to accept Islam, as this was alien to them (which was an argument offered by the opponents of an Islamic State), it was also true that the Islamic majority should not have to accept the alternative, a state founded on the secular Pantjasila, for this was alien to them. Closely allied to the belief in the Islamic identity of the mass of Indonesians was the wish to have this identity institutionalized 12. It is not feasible to include all the santri population of Indonesia within the ummat Islam, although this would be the most accurate definition for the village level Islamic community. Examination of Muslim sources reveals that the two commonest connotations of ummat Islam are religious, which includes all adherents of Islam even if only nominal, and political, which excludes, for example, santri members of the army. 13. Geertz, The Religion of Java, p. 128. 14. Tentang Dasar Negara Republik Indonesia dalam Konstituante (Djakarta: np, 1958) , Vol. 1, pp. 113-114. Natsir was speaking in the Constituent Assembly debates on a new con- stitution for Indonesia.6 in the state. A Dutch Islamologist wrote that, in Muslim eyes, ’’The state cannot be merely an administrative apparatus that has little connection with spiritual, cultural and religious life. It retains its characteristic of comprehensive unity. Thus, in the general Indonesian view, the state . . . has not achieved its proper status, nor can it do so, until it becomes the focus, not only of political administration and activity, but of cul- tural, spiritual and even religious life as well."15 The second argument for an Islamic State was based on a conviction of Islam’s supremacy as a foundation for a democratic state. It was asserted that Islam provided for "a system of democracy and the rule of law in national life, freedom of the judiciary and the sovereignty of law in the courts. . . . Islam has regulations on all problems concerning art and science, even on the status of non-Muslims."16 What was considered the spiri- tual emptiness of the Pantjasila would offer no protection against the mounting waves of secularism reaching Indonesia from the West and of communism from the East. Neither of these two arguments, however, has given any indication of what an Islamic Indonesia would be like. Geertz discovered two major interpretations on this ques- tion. The first was one that envisaged a theocratic state, a state where kijajis would dominate. But there was much diverg- ence of opinion on how such a theocratic state would operate, for, as he noted, "Even here the exact methods which can bring about such a domination in the absence of a church organization within Islam is not clear, although people suggest such notions as having a special parliament of kijajis to check on secular legislation passed by the regular parliament to make sure it is orthodox, placing kijajis in high government positions or ap- pointing the most learned one as Head of State. . . ,"17 The alternative was a kind of general proclamation of an Islamic State, with provisions that the Head of State had to be a Muslim, that no laws could be passed that were in conflict with the Is- lamic Law (sjari'at Islam) and with an emphasis on the teaching of religion in government schools.18 Since independence, there 15. C. A. 0. van Nieuwenhuize, Aspects of Islam in Post-Colonial Indonesia (The Hague and Bandung: van Hoeve, 1958), p. 163. 16. Abadi, February 26, 1969. No hesitation need be shown in quoting sources very recent, as ideas on this problem have a timeless constancy about them. 17. 18. Geertz, Religion of Java, p. 211. Ibid. , p. 212.7 have been both legitimate and constitutional as well as illegal and violent attempts to establish an Islamic State, which have served to discredit the ummat Islam in the eyes of the support- ers of a Pantjasila-based state. The Darul Islam (House of Islam) movement in West Java con- formed to the theocratic state ideal, and its support derived largely from traditional leaders and religious teachers. Early in 1948, an Islamic State was set up in West Java with Kartosu- wirjo as Imam and President of a Madjelis Ummat Islam (Islamic Community Council), with an army, a parliament, a council on fatwa (decisions on canon law) and a loosely-disciplined armed organization called Pahlawan Darul Islam (Heroes of the House of Islam).19 The movement was characterized by its willingness to resort to brutal terrorism, by declarations of Holy War against the Dutch and an attitude of contempt for the Republican Government which was considered both too compromising toward the Dutch and toward Islam. Terrorism became almost synonymous with the Darul Islam, and, "So great was the fear of the Darul Islam movement in West Java that whatever violence occurred was automatically ascribed to its supporters."20 Darul Islam activ- ities persisted throughout the fifties, and Daud Beureueh in Atjeh and Kahar Muzakkar in Makassar extended the movement to those traditional areas of Islamic strength. The Constituent Assembly (Konstituante), formed after elec- tions in December 1955, had been established to promulgate a new constitution for the Republic of Indonesia. It was impos- sible for either Islamic organizations or secular ones to obtain the two-thirds majority that was necessary for their respective proposals to be accepted; deadlock was inevitable if no com- promise solution were found. However, the Konstituante gave advocates of an Islamic State a legal forum from which to pro- pound their unchanging ideas on the perfection of Islam, on the unique position of Islam as the religion of the vast majority of Indonesians, and on the guarantee of religious freedom which would be given to minorities. Yet these arguments were no more compelling to proponents of Pantjasila in the mid-fifties than they had been two decades earlier, at the time of the famous dialogue between Sukarno and Natsir, or when discussions took place in 1945 over the constitution for independent Indonesia, or indeed today.21 Coupled with the fear of fanatic Islam that 19. van Nieuwenhuize, Aspects of Islam, p. 173. 20. Ibid., p. 174. For a view emphasizing the traditionalist, anti-modern nature of the Darul Islam, see W. F. Wertheim, Indonesian Society in Transition (The Hague: van Hoeve, 1964') , p. 228.----------------- 21. For Natsir's case in the 1930's disagreement on the role to be played by Islam in Indonesia, see M. Natsir versus Soekarno (Padang: Jajasan Pendidikan Islam, 1968).8 was widespread in Central and East Java among the abangan popu- lation was the belief that "Islam did not have anything to con- tribute to a modern Indonesian state."22 When Sukarno dissolved the Konstituante in 1959 it ". . . symbolized the last stand of Islam as an organized political force in independent Indonesia against the triumphant forces of nationalist secularism."23 But it did not mean that those who had advocated an Islamic State now realized the advantages of having Pantjasila as the state ideology. Rather it has become necessary to institute features of an Islamic State within the framework of a Pantjasila-based Indonesia. It is still necessary for Islam, the religion of the majority, to be given some form of official recognition. Any attempt to achieve a more significant role for Islam, how- ever, is generally seen by the self-named Pantjasilaists as an effort to establish an Islamic State. It is apparent that many feel that the Partai Muslimin Indonesia may try to achieve this. 22. Daniel Lev, The Transition to Guided Democracy: Indonesian Politics, 1957-1959 (Ithaca: Cornell Modern Indonesia Pro- ject , 1966) , p. 125. For a discussion of nationalists' views on Islam and the Pantjasila, see Herbert Feith, The Decline of Constitutional Democracy in Indonesia (Ithaca: Cornell University, 1962), p. 356. 23. Lev, Transition to Guided Democracy, p. 234.CHAPTER I MASJUMI, 1945-1960 It is the proud claim of leaders of Indonesia's Islamic community that the banner of Islam provided the inspiration for the Indonesian struggle for independence. In the nineteenth century, for example, the Padri and Bone Wars, the war led by Diponegoro and the thirty-year long Atjeh War are referred to in support of the assertion of the prime importance of Islam in awakening the desire among Indonesians for freedom from foreign rule. In the twentieth century, the conventional practice of regarding the Budi Utomo as the precursor of the nationalist movement is condemned by Muslim writers who see the Sarekat Islam as the first nationalist organization.1 After the decline of the Sarekat Islam in the 1920's, however, not only did lead- ership of the nationalist movement definitely lie with non- Islamic organizations such as the Partai Nasional Indonesia of Sukarno, but also the forces of Islam lost the unity that had been indicated, if only superficially, by the Sarekat Islam's existence. Thus in 1933 the Partai Sarekat Islam (PSII), the successor to the Sarekat Islam, was rent by internal dissension which resulted in the formation by former PSII members of the Partai Islam Indonesia. The two rival social organizations Nahdatul Ulama and Muhammadijah were united in a body called Madjelis Islam A'la Indonesia (MIAI), which was later dominated by the PSII. It was later reorganized by the Japanese during their occupation of Indonesia and replaced in 1943 by yet an- other federation, the Masjumi. In November 1945, a new political party was founded to represent the interests of the Islamic community in independent Indonesia, and all the organizations that had joined the Japa- nese-sponsored Masjumi, such as Muhammadijah and NU, took part. The Masjumi, as it was called, did not survive long as the sole representative of a seemingly-united Islamic community. It was unique among Indonesian political parties in having both indi- vidual and corporate extraordinary members, the latter being considered necessary to attract and retain the support of the mass organizations without compelling them to sacrifice their interests in social or educational activities.2 The first major 1. For the most recent instance of this, see the article, "The Islamic Community and the Oath of Youth," Abadi, October 27, 1969. 2. Deliar Noer, "Masjumi, Its Organization, Ideology and Politi- cal Role in Indonesia" (M.A. Thesis, Cornell University, 1960), p. 54. 910 split in Masjumi was the exit of the PSII in 1948, which was followed by the NU in 1952. A recent analysis explaining this disintegration has been offered by a Muhammadijah leader, Mintaredja. After recalling that the left-wing cabinet of Amir Sjarifuddin had proffered seats to the leaders of the PSII in an attempt to sow disunity in the Islamic community, Mintaredja referred to the "arrogant attitude of several leaders of the ruling-class, namely those who because of their knowledge or university degrees feel that they have a monopoly over general knowledge (secular) and political knowledge, and therefore main- tained that the santris and kijajis who by chance came mostly from the NU or PSII should only operate in suraus [religious training center] . . . and confine themselves to religious duties."3 4 What he was criticizing was the apparent unwilling- ness of the mainly intellectual-led modernists within Masjumi to give positions of power to the kijaji-led NU, or to the PSII, whose leaders felt their ambitions sooner achieved if they con- stituted their own party in its own right. Several years after its foundation, it was clear that Masjumi was coming under the domination of its modernist wing. Kahin suggested that the modernist followers of Dr. Sukiman and Mohammad Natsir had by the end of 1948 "... come to exercise more influence over Masjumi's policy than the remainder of the [leadership] Coun- cil's members combined."1* After the defection of the PSII, there were three main groups within the Masjumi: the Religious Socialists, that is, the generally Western-educated intellectuals such as Sukiman, Natsir, Rum and Jusuf Wibisono, who were often connected with one of the modernist social or educational organizations, such as Muhammadijah or the Djamiatul Al-Washlijah; the NU group, consisting mainly of kijajis, led by Wachid Hasjim; a smaller group of "radical fundamentalists" which has been described as ". . . having its origins in the antitraditionalist 'Protestant' movement of which the Muhammadijah was the main channel, [and which] represented another more militant, illiberal, and anti- secularist current."5 The last group was marked by its most outspoken advocation of an Islamic State, as well as by a tend- ency to instantly label any opposition to Islamic aspirations as communist. In the two or three years before the formation of the Wilopo Cabinet in April 1952, cabinet seats offered to Masjumi were generally given to Masjumi members from the first 3. Mintaredja, Perdjuangan Ummat Islam Mengalami Setback 25 Tahun (Djakarta: n.p., 1968), p. 6. 4. George McT. Kahin, Nationalist and Revolution in Indonesia (Ithaca: Cornell University, 1952), p. 306. 5. Feith, Decline of Constitutional Democracy, p. 136.11 of these three groups alone, who received three seats to the NU's one in the Hatta Cabinet, three to one in the Natsir Cabinet and four to one in the Sukiman Cabinet.6 In each case, the NU held only the portfolio of Religious Affairs. The NU's main source of influence in Masjumi derived from its domination of the Religious Council, but, in 1949, this had become a purely advisory body, thus subordinating religion to politics, as NU leaders alleged. When the Wilopo Cabinet's choice of Religious Affairs Minister was the Muhammadijah figure Faqih Usman, it seemed to the NU that nothing was to be gained from remaining within Masjumi, and, in 1952, the NU was reconstituted as an independent political party. The unity of the ummat Islam which had been achieved during the revolution was finally destroyed.7 The attitude that Mintaredja condemned seems to reveal a tendency among many party leaders from one particular group to regard themselves as being the most representative, and the most capable, leaders of the ummat Islam. This may be, too, a re- flection of the attitude which Geertz found in Modjokuto where, ". . . Each group--abangan, santri and prijaji--sees the politi- cal struggle not so much as a process of mutual adjustment be- tween separate interests as parts of a larger society but as a naked struggle for power in which one group wins and the others lose."8 Masjumi was not free from this attitude after NU's departure, for, faction-ridden until 1960, the party saw the eventual unhappy triumph of one faction, and the defection to the PSII of the leaders of another. The chief differences be- tween the principal factions, followers of Natsir and Sukiman respectively, were, according to Feith, closer relations enjoyed by Sukiman with the President, and the PNI and NU, contrasted with the links that Natsir had with the radical fundamentalists such as Isa Ansjary, as well as a greater community of interest with the PSI (Socialist Party). Furthermore, the Sukiman wing was more commonly identified with Javanese interests; whereas Natsir's group was thought to be more representative of the Outer Islands, and in greater sympathy with regionalist demands. However, there were many Javanese leaders of Masjumi usually associated with Natsir, such as Prawoto Mangkusasmito and Moham- mad Rum, while there were some Sumatrans, for example Firdaus, who were at times highly critical of Natsir.9 6 . Ibid., p. 234. 7. Ibid., pp. 233-237, for a full analysis of the reasons for NU's withdrawal. 8. Geertz, Religion of Java, p. 213. 9. See Feith, Decline of Constitutional Democracy, p. 234 ff. for an analysis of the factions within Masjumi. During the early fifties, the Sukiman faction was disturbed at the12 The Masjumi declined from its position as the largest party in 1950 through one of second-largest in the 1955 general elec- tions, when Masjumi triumph had been predicted, to a situation in the late fifties when, "The dominant mood in Masjumi approached defeatism. Government action to abolish the party . . . would not have been a surprise. . . ."10 There has so far been no full explanation offered to account for the startling decline of this party, except within the framework of the decline in the party system in general. However, it is clear that, apart from the lack of unanimity in Masjumi over the question of how to face the growing power of Sukarno and how to avert a semi-alli- ance between the PNI and PKI (Communist Party), Masjumi was con- siderably weakened by its inability to control the radical utterances of its fundamentalist wing.11 Lev observed, "Although many of Masjumi's national leaders were intellectual moderates who questioned the utility of Islamic doctrine in the modern state, yet in the heat of ideological debate they were often drawn towards the extreme positions of the party's religious fanatics."12 More particularly, after the famous Amuntai speech of Sukarno, when he warned against the dangers of setting up an Islamic State, the ideological battle was fought in Indonesia, and charges of heathen and communist were hurled at Masjumi's opponents. However, the fall of Masjumi was more directly caused by its growing identification with the regionalist demands that were voiced loudly in the middle of the decade. Although Masjumi derived some 251 of its support from Central and East Java, half possibility of the PNI's seeking communist support, or vice- versa, and at the dangers of alienating the NU and losing its support. Thus whereas Natsir had formed a cabinet with- out the PNI in 1950, Sukiman restored a PNI-Masjumi coali- tion the following year. Similarly, Sukiman protested at the way the NU was almost driven from Masjumi. 10. Lev, Transition to Guided Democracy, p. 136. 11. Herbert Feith, The Indonesian Elections of 1955 (Ithaca: Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 1957) , p. 777 Naturally Masjumi's strong emphasis on Islam, by no means restricted to the fundamentalists, repelled what Castles called "the vitally important class of Western-educated officials and white-collar workers." See Lance Castles, Religion, Poli- tics, and Economic Behavior in Java: The Kudus Cigarette1 Industry (New Haven: Yale University Cultural Report Series, No. 15, 1967), p. 13. 12. Daniel Lev, "Political Parties in Indonesia," Journal of Southeast Asian History, 8, No. 1 (March 1967), p. 57.13 of its support came from the Outer Islands, which meant that on the one hand Masjumi was the only truly national party, but on the other: "The distribution of Masjumi's support was unfavor- ably out of proportion to the distribution of Indonesia's popu- lation, and when the conflict between Java and the Outer Islands came to a head . . . , Masjumi suffered the same decline as the regions.”13 The regional crisis of 1957-1959 was caused by the anomalous economic position of the Outer Islands vis-a-vis Java. Through an unreal exchange rate, the importers of Java were treated favorably and the exporters, mainly from the Outer Islands, were discriminated against; moreover, the foreign ex- change earnings of the Outer Islands seemed to be used chiefly on Java, where, for example, the nation's principal educational institutions were located. In parts of Sumatra and Sulawesi, there was widespread dislike and distrust of President Sukarno and his toleration of the communists, and, in areas of Islamic "fanaticism," such as Atjeh, there was distrust of and contempt for the attitude of the Javanese towards Islam. But there was a more profound aspect to center-region relations, for, as Lev perceived, "The Javanese elite saw in independence an opportuni- ty ... to fulfill the ambitions and promises of Javanese civilization in the new national state, while the smaller and more particularistic societies of the rest of Indonesia recoiled before the vision of their eventual subordination or assimila- tion in a Javanese-dominated nation."1** That Masjumi was sympathetic to regional demands for greater autonomy was understandable given the base of non-Javanese sup- port on which Masjumi's strength lay, but other issues were in- volved in the decision of three national leaders of Masjumi to join the Sumatran army officers who threatened to rebel against the central government. First was the fear that Sukarno's idea of Guided Democracy was inimical to constitutional democracy, and, more seriously, constituted an open invitation to the PKI to increase its strength and influence. Among the Sumatrans were men like Simbolon, whose participation in the October 17 Affair of 1952 had indicated his, to put it mildly, ambivalence to democracy.15 The ideal of an Islamic-inspired resistance to communist-dominated Java, of a holy war against atheism, may have been of considerable importance, and once they had joined the rebellion (in December 1957 Natsir, Sjafruddin Prawiranegara and Burhanuddin Harahap left Djakarta for Padang), they tended to cooperate with the Atjeh-based Darul Islam movement in North 13. Lev, Transition to Guided Democracy, p. 136. 14. Ibid., p. 3. 15. On the October 17 Affair, see Feith, Decline of Constitu- tional Democracy, pp. 246 ff.14 Sumatra. The hope of achieving a federal system of states which were free to proclaim themselves Islamic was realized during the PRRI (Pemerintah Revolusioner Republik Indonesia) rebellion, when a Republik Persatuan government was set up in 1960, with ten constituent states, including the Islamic State of Atjeh.16 It may well be, however, that the action of Natsir and his colleagues in fleeing to Padang was more a response to unbear- able conditions in Djakarta than a long-planned decision which took into consideration the direct political interests of Masju- mi. There seems to have been no prior consultation with other Masjumi leaders in Djakarta before Natsir left. Furthermore, these three Masjumi leaders had been for some time subjected to harassment by youths connected with the pro-Sukarno newspaper, Pemuda, partly as a reaction to the condemnation made by Natsir of the takeovers of Dutch enterprises in December 1957. 7 Whatever the factors motivating the participation of the three senior Masjumi leaders, Natsir, Sjafruddin and Burhanuddin Harahap, in the PRRI rebellion, the consequences were very serious for Masjumi. On this issue as on others, the Sukiman wing clashed with the supporters of Mohammad Natsir. Jusuf Wibisono, for example, although he desired a compromise between the central government and the rebels, nevertheless demanded that Masjumi condemn Natsir for his extreme action, and he argued, "Any other posture was inconsistent; to refuse to de- nounce the rebellion and yet to continue to participate in legal politics was two-faced and debilitating. The inevitable outcome of such a course would be that Masjumi's power would disappear altogether, imperilling the entire Islamic cause in Indonesia."18 A further source of dissension within Masjumi was the refusal of the Natsir group, now led by Prawoto, to replace Natsir as General Chairman of the party, which tended to heighten Masjumi's embarrassment in Djakarta politics. It was not until April 1959 that Prawoto was elected to succeed Natsir, but even then no decision was taken to condemn the leaders involved in the rebel- lion. Prawoto and his supporters preferred to compete in the Djakarta political arena shackled by the Masjumi's connection with the PRRI, and the party was dubbed "the party of separation and rebellion."19 16. Herbert Feith and Daniel Lev, "The End of the Indonesian Rebellion," Pacific Affairs, 34, No. 1 (Spring 1963), p. 38. 17. Interview with Prawoto Mangkusasmito, Djakarta, May 1968. 18. Lev, Transition to Guided Democracy, p. 136. 19. Allan Samson, "Islam in Indonesian Politics," Asian Survey, 8, No. 13 (December 1968), p. 1001.15 Prawoto's unwillingness to criticize the participation of Natsir and the others in the rebellion was caused first by loyal- ty to his comrade, and by a hope that the rebellion might just succeed.20 Prawoto, Rum, Kasman Singodimedjo and others were convinced that the present trends in political life in Indonesia were completely opposed to Masjumi's interests as they saw them, interests which could only be furthered by a thorough reversal of Sukarno's actions. Moreover, Prawoto thought that Masjumi's future strength lay outside Java, and that condemnation of the spirations of Masjumi supporters in Atjeh and other areas would alienate Masjumi's sources of support.21 A third factor was suggested by Mohammad Rum, who maintained that by refusing to condemn the role played by Natsir and the Masjumi branches in the regions involved in the PRRI, "The unity of the ummat Islam was preserved intact."22 At the conclusion of the rebellion, the return of Natsir arid his colleagues would not signify a split within the Islamic community, but a joyful restoration of unity. However, the result of the rebellion and the other issues pressing in the last years of the decade was precisely the dis- integration of Masjumi, which owed as much to a deep conflict within the party over how to confront these problems as to the actions of Masjumi's opponents. The return to the 1945 Consti- tution provided the final test of the party's ability to face Djakarta’s political demands on a united stand, and Masjumi failed. In February 1959, Sukiman was reported to have said that the 1945 Constitution was consistent with what Masjumi had sought during the post-independence era and that a return to that constitution was the only way out of the deadlock in the Constituent Assembly. He added that he could not express his party's opinion on Guided Democracy, "because he had to seek further explanations from Sukarno and Djuanda."23 Such an atti- tude towards Guided Democracy was wholly unthinkable to Prawoto, who found abhorrent Sukarno's violation of the constitution.2* 20. For a full discussion of Prawoto's position, see Lev, Transition to Guided Democracy, p. 136, and Feith and Lev, "End ofthe Indonesian Rebellion," p. 37. 21. Lev, Transition to Guided Democracy, pp. 252-253. 22. Interview with Mohammad Rum, Djakarta, February 1969. 23. Merdeka, February 25, 1959. 24. The best statement of Prawoto's views may be found in his pamphlet, Tempat Hukum dalam Alam Revolusi (Djakarta: Abadi, 1960j. It is a moot point, of course, how concerned Masjumi's leadership was at the prospect of constitutional democracy being overthrown, and how alarmed at the likely concomitant decline in Masjumi's influence.16 Realizing the futility of the ideological conflict with the secularists, Jusuf Wibisono proposed that a democratic front be formed with the secular and Christian parties to combat commu- nism on the basis of the Pantjasila. "Meanwhile," he argued, "Islamic groups should study the conditions of society and ad- just themselves to the national stage of development."25 This highly pragmatic approach was, however, unacceptable to much of Masjumi's leadership, and might have conceivably alienated large sections of the party’s regional supporters. Early in 1960, Jusuf Wibisono left Masjumi and joined the PSII, to be followed several months later by Sukiman. At the same time, Masjumi's constituent organizations were restless and anxious lest their interests be sacrificed to those of the party. Before the dis- solution of Masjumi in August, the Muhammadijah declared itself no longer a special member of the party, and so it survived Masjumi's demise.26 Sukarno introduced in January 1960 a resolution on party life which gave him authority to ban and dissolve parties whose bases conflicted with that of the state, whose members were carrying out rebellion or which refused to condemn those party members participating in rebellion. A party violating the con- ditions of Presidential Decision No. 7 would have to be dissolved by the party leadership within thirty days of issuance of a dis- solution decree.27 Although the other main party of rebellion, the PSI, attempted to ban its members from participation in re- bellion and announced that such involvement meant automatic ex- pulsion from the PSI,28 on August 17, 1960, Sukarno was able to reveal that his earlier demand that the PSI and Masjumi denounce their rebel members had not been satisfactorily executed, and that consequently both parties had been dissolved. With the Masjumi and PSI effectively removed from the arena of legitimate politics, the remaining Islamic parties no longer rested in the center of the Indonesian political spectrum, but rather consti- tuted the most right wing parties and thus were forced to play cautious roles in a nation that seemed to have swung markedly to the left.29 Islam, it appeared, was destined to enjoy a muted share in the political future of Indonesia. 25. Lev, Transition to Guided Democracy, p. 229. 26. Mintaredja, Perdjuangan Ummat Islam, p. 3. 27. Merdeka, January 13, 1960. 28. Interview with Subadio Sastrosatomo, Djakarta, May 1968. 29. The Muslim parties surviving the introduction of Guided Democracy were the NU, PSII and the small, Sumatra-based Perti (Partai Tarbijah Islamijah).CHAPTER II THE STRUGGLE FOR REHABILITATION There has so far been, unfortunately, no analysis of the role played by Islamic organizations during the years of Guided Democracy. This is scarcely surprising, however, as attention was focused on the three main participants in Djakarta politics in that period, the President, the Army, and the PKI. After the dissolution of Masjumi, the constituent organizations that sur- vived independently restricted their activities to non-political fields, although the Muhammadijah, for example, at times held cabinet portfolios.1 In 1963, the Masjumi youth movement, GPU (Gerakan Pemuda Islam Indonesia), was banned because of its opposition to Manipol-Usdek and its suspected involvement in the 1957 attempt on Sukarno's life. But other Islamic student or youth organizations, notably the NU-affiliated Pemuda Ansor and the independent HMI (Himpunan Mahasiswa Islam), survived, although the latter movement was subjected to a long campaign waged by the PKI which tried to link HMI with Masjumi and have it banned also. The HMI was supported by NU and other religious parties, as well as by elements within the Armed Forces. By April 1965, Sukarno had announced that the HMI was not in danger of dissolution.2 Generally, however, Islamic organizations were compelled to adopt passive postures, in the period 1963-1965 especially, when the PKI ". . . had come to monopolize the in- terpretation and marketing of symbols, acronyms and national objectives expounded by President Sukarno. ... No group ob- jected to the wholesale expulsion by the Nationalist Party of 1. Even as late as October 1965, the Muhammadijah held the post of People's Welfare (Coordinating Minister) which was in the hands of Muljadi Djojomartono (who had defected from Masjumi when he accepted a seat in the Kabinet Karya, appointed by Sukarno in April 1957), and the post of Hadj Affairs. 2. See K. D. Thomas, "Political and Economic Instability: The Gestapu and Its Aftermath," in T. K. Tan, ed., Sukarno's Guided Democracy (Brisbane: Jacaranda, 1967), p"l 117. Thomas (p"! 126, n. 5) erroneously suggests that the HMI was not banned in 1960 along with Masjumi because it tradition- ally contained both Masjumi and NU sympathizers. It is not clear why the HMI should (or should not) have been banned in 1960, but the fact that GPII, which was much more closely identified with Masjumi,lasted until 1963 is ignored by the explanation Thomas offers. 1718 the liberal half of its leadership or protested the banning of the Murba Party. . . . Every group, however modestly, picked up the clamorous PKI campaign for the ouster of capitalist-bureau- crat . . . officials from the highest levels of government."3 4 In the regions, particularly Central and East Java, the agitation launched by the communist peasant front, BTI (Barisan Tani Indonesia), to have the land reform legislation of 1960 implemented through the so-called aksi sepihak (unilateral ac- tion) movement provoked violent reaction from the NU and PNI land-owning class. Clashes occurred throughout 1964 and 1965 and formed a prelude to the later massacres. "Islamic schools," one commentator noted, "not only were hotbeds of agitation against 'communism* and 'atheism' but were also strongly influ- enced by the richer peasants as an interest-group."** In Java there developed what Castles described as a "new tendency among young Muslims which rejects both the NU (on account of its opportunism and religious traditionalism) and the Masjumi (on account of its excessively Westernized leadership). Their main concern is not politics, but da’wah (propagation of the faith). They eschew formal organization which . . . means submitting to government surveillance and leadership. . . . These intense young men . . . probably stand behind some at least of the vari- ous outbreaks ... of united Islamic sentiment against the left in the past two years."5 . Despite what seemed to be substantial increases in commu- nist strength in the last years of Guided Democracy, the PKI was comparatively easily routed when the murders of six generals, on October 1, 1965, were used by the army to make the communists the chief target in its counter-offensive against the Untung forces. Onto the anti-communist bandwagon set careering forth by the army, clambered many elements of the Djakarta political scene, with demands for the PKI's dissolution and promises of support to army leaders. Until January, however, the initiative in political maneuvering lay with Suharto and his allies, or with the President, and the parties were compelled to proceed cautiously, partly owing to old and feeble leadership, as in the PNI, or perennial disunity, so that: "The army could not depend on public party affirmations to reflect the strength of 3. Roger Paget, "The Military in Politics in Indonesia: The Burden of Power," Pacific Affairs, 34, Nos. 1-2 (Spring 1966), p. 121. 4. W. F. Wertheim, "Indonesia Before and After the Untung Coup," Pacific Affairs, 40, Nos. 3-4 (Fall 1967-1968), p. 296. 5. Lance Castles, "Notes on the Islamic School at Gontor," Indonesia, 1 (April 1966), p. 44.19 party leadership."6 Nevertheless, the NU did at least continue to function as a party. The former supporters of Masjumi were forced to operate through a variety of organizations, until a front was set up in December called the Badan Koordinasi Amal Muslimin. But the principal role played by Islam was increas- ingly dominated by youth and student movements such as Pemuda Ansor and HMI, which were involved throughout most of Central and East Java in the systematic massacre of communists and their alleged sympathizers. During this period, and well into the new year, most na- tional leaders of Masjumi were ensconced in prison. The arrests of "opposition" politicians in 1962 had been preceded by the placing of the PRRI rebels in "political quarantine."7 At the time of the attempted coup, Natsir, Prawoto and other detainees were in a Madiun jail. It was perhaps a special misfortune to these Masjumi figures, and a circumstance of considerable irony, that initial steps taken against their old opponents, the commu- nists and Sukarno, were made while they were still in prison. Thus they were not comparable to men like Suharto, Sarwo Edhie and the students, who unquestionably enjoyed the distinction of belonging to the New Order by physical participation in its struggles. It is indeed possible that the political detainees of the anoien regime provided inspiration to the demonstrating youths of the Action Fronts. The remarkable public display of emotion at the funeral of former PSI leader Sjahrir in April may be a gauge of the respect with which Masjumi leaders also were held.8 Nevertheless it is still true that the old Masjumi leadership was unable to play an active part in the hectic events of the transition from the Old Order to the New. This may have increased a tendency among HMI leaders, for example, to feel independent of their Masjumi elders and, at times, even skepti- cal of the latters* grasp of political realities. At the same time, the absence of Masjumi leaders from the battlefield, how- ever undesired by themselves, may have strengthened an inclina- tion among elements within the army, to whom Masjumi aspirations were either irrelevant or dangerous, to consider Natsir and 6. Paget, "Military in Politics," p. 300. 7. Masjumi leaders jailed during 1962-1964 included Mohammad Natsir, Prawoto Mangkusasmito, Sjafruddin Prawiranegara, Burhanuddin Harahap, Mohammad Rum, Yunan Nasution, Kasman Singodimedjo, Anwar Harjono, Hamka and Isa Ansjary. There were also a number of GPU figures arrested, including E. Z. Muttaqien, Soemarsono and Achmad Buchori (or Buchari). 8. See the detailed account of Sjahrir’s funeral in Rosihan Anwar, Perdjalanan Terachir Pahlawan Nasional Sutan Sjahrir (Djakarta: Pembangunan, 1966} .20 other detainees as the jetsam of the old government rather than as heroes who deserved a place in the new one.9 Anyway, it was not until May or June 1966, that Natsir and the other, largely PSI and Masjumi, detainees were released from their confinement in Djakarta.10 The long delay in releasing these men seems to have been caused by two closely interconnected factors. First, the preoccupation of Suharto and the central leadership of the army with eliminating the PKI and then cautiously edging the compromised Sukarno out of real power probably prevented serious consideration of what to do with the political prisoners of Sukarno’s government. Second, the concomitant desire for a state of aman (peace, security), for public security was needed while the latter objective of confronting Sukarno was being can- vassed. The Action Fronts, which after January 1966 became in- creasingly independent of, and often in conflict with, the imme- diate objectives of Suharto, were a sufficient nuisance for the army to contend with.11 It should be recalled that the Masjumi which emerged from the prisons of Java and Djakarta comprised a leadership that came mainly from the Natsir group, with the fundamentalists such as Isa Ansjary. Sukiman and Jusuf Wibisono had remained in the PSII, so that for some time it seemed that Masjumi, though still lacking the right to exist as a party, was rid of the chronic disunity that had led to its downfall. However, the endeavors launched throughout 1966 to achieve restoration of the party’s right to participate in Indonesian politics were not fully con- certed. Two committees, or fronts, were formed to struggle for the rehabilitation of Masjumi neither of which was destined to receive an official reply from the government. 9. For a discussion of conflicting attitudes within the army towards the Masjumi and PSI, which found sympathy with various regionally-based officers and hostility from others who disapproved of their pro-Western orientation or role in the PRRI, see Herbert Feith, "The Dynamics of Guided Democ- racy," in Ruth T. McVey, ed., Indonesia (New Haven: HRAF, 1963), p. 343. It seems unobjectionable to assume that four years afterwards the same differences were to be found, in a greater or lesser degree. 10. The funeral of Sutan Sjahrir saw most of his fellow prison- ers let out during the ceremony and then rather pathetically returned to their place of detention. Several days later, the Catholic newspaper, Kompas (April 12, 1966) asked: "What is the fate of the political prisoners still in jail, who like Sjahrir once served their country as ministers? Are they to suffer further?" 11. See Paget, "Military in Politics," for the best account of this period.21 Apparently, senior officers in Djakarta suspected that stu- dent demonstrations launched in early 1966 were being manipu- lated by GPU and Masjumi figures. At a meeting between Major- General Amir Machmud, Commander of the Greater Djakarta Area, and a delegation of nine Masjumi or GPU representatives led by Faqih Usman held on May 9, Amir suggested that those two organi- zations had been behind current student demonstrations.12 From the Masjumi/GPII side, this encounter with Amir Machmud had taken some time to arrange, and it constituted the first effort to get off the ground the campaign for the rehabilitation of both organizations. Two GPU leaders, Buchori and Hasan Suraat- madja, began in February to contact Amir’s younger brother, an old school friend of the latter, and it took three months for Amir himself to agree to meet representatives of the GPU and Masjumi. During the following years, attempts to achieve first rehabilitation of Masjumi and then legalization of a new party were continuously made through a pattern of informal contacts with friends or acquaintances of Masjumi men within the army. The May meeting was significant in so far as it revealed the first presentation of the Masjumi's case for rehabilitation. Both the GPU and Masjumi, in fact, surrendered documents to Amir expounding the reasons why rehabilitation was justified.13 Encouraged, perhaps, by the current slogans of upholding justice and democracy then popular among the Action Fronts, the first outline of the Masjumi case was based on historical arguments and legal questions surrounding the role of the party in the 19S8 rebellion. The main defense against the charge of not having condemned their leaders involved in the PRRI was a speech made by Prime Minister Djuanda in parliament late in February 1958. Djuanda had declared: "The government is of the opinion that although men involved in the rebellion may be leaders of a political party, nevertheless it is not the party but its mem- bers who have broken the law."1** Moreover, ran the Masjumi 12. Interview with Achmad Buchori, Djakarta, March 1969. Bu- chori denied the general’s charge, and said that the student outbreaks had been "spontaneous." 13. See S. U. Bajasut, Fakta Documenta (n.p., n.d.), Vol. VI, p. 14. This is the last volume in a series of six booklets on Masjumi and the development of the new party. The other main account of the Partai Muslimin in Indonesian is Soli- chin Salam, Sedjarah Partai Muslimin Indonesia (Djakarta: Jajasan Kesedjanteraan dan Perbendaharaan Islam, 1968). 14. Bajasut, Fakta Documenta, p. 36. It may be noted that this was not Djuanda's final statement on this issue. In August of the same year, he admonished all groups in parliament to take a firm stand in condemning their members who had joined the PRRI. See Lev, Transition to Guided Democracy, p. 139, n. 13.22 argument, since 1962, those who had rebelled had received am- nesty, and so should Masjumi. The dissolution of that party could not be divorced from the maneuvering of the PKI, and refer- ence was made to the attempt of Prawoto to sue the government in 1960 for the dissolution of Masjumi. Finally, while it was admitted that there would always be slander, the document given to Amir refuted the common slander against Masjumi, that it opposed Pantjasila.15 It may be useful to compare the Masjumi's posture on its rehabilitation in 1966 with the tactics adopted by the PKI in a not dissimilar situation fifteen years earlier. Hindley re- corded that, after 1951: "The Aidit leadership directed much of the party's propaganda and activities to building a favorable image of the PKI as a nationalist, anti-colonial party, as a party sympathetic to religion, as a responsible party opposed to the use of violence in the pursuit of political objectives, and as a resolute defender of democracy. That the PKI lacked this image at the beginning of 1951 was partly the result of the Madiun rebellion, in which the communists had attacked the cen- tral government during the war against the Dutch, and in which they had murdered many santris. In short, without this favor- able image, it would have been very difficult, probably impos- sible, to win mass support."16 Masjumi in 1966 did not have the problem of winning mass support, at least its leaders were confident their policies would invariably be endorsed by their supporters, should they be given the opportunity to demonstrate approval. But Masjumi was still on the periphery of the Indone- sian political scene, in the sense that it lacked legitimacy and until it gained rehabilitation it could not play a satisfying role in national politics, a role that offered the party a future. Unlike the PKI, however, Masjumi saw no need, apparently, to change its justification for past errors, denying that any errors had been committed. Quite the contrary, following the 15. Bajasut, Fakta Documenta, p. 36. 16. Donald Hindley, The Communist Party of Indonesia, 1951-1963 (Berkeley: University of California, 1964) , p. 121. This comparison with the PKI would of course be highly offensive to any Masjumi member (or to any communist, for that matter) and it should not be taken too far. But the distinction is not always kept in mind by elements of the army; for exam- ple, a local military command in South Djakarta recently instructed all lurahs (village headmen) to provide lists of all inhabitants who were former members of either PKI or Masjumi. See Mertju Suar, June 10, 196823 course of Guided Democracy and the 1965 coup d'etat, Masjumi leaders felt their previous actions of opposition to Sukarno and even rebellion against his government had been justified by history. They argued that if the PRRI had won wider support (presumably from those who now attacked Sukarno willingly), the authoritarian Sukarno and the PKI would have been restrained, and the tragedy of Crocodile Hole averted.17 Now that the PKI had been so conclusively discredited as treacherous and unpatri- otic, it was up to the rest of the political elite and the gov- ernment to accord Masjumi the recognition it so singularly deserved as the earliest champion of anti-communism and anti- Guided Democracy.18 Masjumi's opponents, however, saw no need to grant recogni- tion to that party, a former rebel party whose leaders had "revolted against the state."19 It was widely considered that the government of 1958 was not yet the evil government later dubbed the Old Order, and at that time, Sukarno was quite dif- ferent from the dictatorial leader he later became. Thus there could be no justification for rebellion. The PRRI's motives were seen in terms of Islamic ideals and federalist intentions, and the men who had in 1958 been stamped "anti-nationalist, pro- Western and accomplices of colonialism and imperialism,"20 found that these and other labels, such as "fanatical Muslims," stuck even after the fall of Sukarno. It has been stressed suffi- ciently by Western observers that it was the army under General Nasution that was instrumental in the introduction of Guided Democracy.21 The army leadership in 1966 was unlikely to make 17. It is common to see the murders of the six generals (whose bodies were found at Crocodile Hole) as the logical out- come of Guided Democracy, which views seems to ignore the army's role in the introduction of Guided Democracy. See, e.g., Amura's article in Operasi, October 24, 1968. 18. Samson, "Islam in Indonesian Politics," p. 1005. 19. That they had rebelled not only against the central govern- ment but also against the unitary state of Indonesia would probably be denied by the PRRI rebels, yet the Federal Re- public of Indonesia government they set up in 1960 was enough to convince Djakarta of the federalist threat. 20. Jan Pluvier, Confrontations (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford Univer- sity, 1965), p. 53. 21. For the best account of the army's role in Guided Democra- cy's introduction, see Lev, Transition to Guided Democracy.24 public admission of Masjumi's correctness in opposing Guided Democracy, but this notwithstanding, old Masjumi leaders such as Prawoto almost inevitably adopted a position, at times bor- dering on self-righteousness, which others found either com- pletely unjustified or containing an inherent threat to their own positions or reputations. The NU, for example, would have been seriously embarrassed had Masjumi's right to rebel against Guided Democracy been conceded.22 To put it bluntly, large sec- tions of the modernists entered the New Order with a chip on their shoulder, and the refusal of most other political forces to acknowledge their martyrdom increased the frustration they felt.23 Some observers who considered Natsir and Sjafruddin rash in joining the PRRI even believed that after their sur- render and imprisonment these Masjumi leaders became more fanatic than ever before.21* After the release of Prawoto, Natsir, Rum and other leaders in May, a committee was set up to seek formally the restoration of Masjumi's legitimacy. Named the Committee for the Rehabili- tation of Masjumi, this was chaired by a former Sumatran leader of Masjumi, Sjarif Usman, who had participated in the PRRI in Padang. There is unfortunately little record of this committee's activities, and its membership has not been published. But it is safe to assume that it was largely under the guidance of Faqih Usman, and through him, of Prawoto.25 Throughout the latter half of 1966, representatives of this committee continued the informal contact established with Amir Machmud and other key generals, such as Kemal Idris, Sutjipto and Alamsjah, as well as with Colonel Ali Murtopo.26 During this period, which lasted until December, a variety of organizations came out in support 22. See Samson, "Islam in Indonesian Politics," p. 1004. This section is almost wholly based on interviews with senior officers (Colonels and Brigadier-Generals) in Djakarta, but very similar opinions have been expressed by a variety of civilian politicians, from the Christian parties, the PNI, NU and PSII. 23. The term "modernist" is admittedly very vague. The organi- zations most conscious of the injustice done to Masjumi seemed to have been the PI I and the GPU. 24. General Simatupang was particularly emphatic on this point in an interview in Djakarta in March 1969. 25. Faqih Usman's prominence seems to have come largely from his position as the most senior Masjumi leader not impris- oned during Guided Democracy. 26. Interview, Muttaqien, Djakarta, February 1969.25 of Masjumi's demand for rehabilitation. Although, not surpris- ingly, most declarations of support were from former constituent member organizations, such as Muhammadijah, or ones closely identified with Masjumi, such as Peladjar Islam Indonesia (PII), there were also several independent associations that issued statements favorable to the party or called for justice to be done to banned parties. In August, for instance, a symposium held in Djakarta to discuss the forthcoming general elections issued a declaration endorsing rehabilitation of Masjumi and the PSI in order to "guarantee that democracy is not merely accorded lip-service," and it was hoped that all formerly-banned organi- zations such as Murba might be able to participate in the elec- tions .2 7 Seemingly of greater significance, the Second Army Seminar in Bandung, while not espousing the cause of Masjumi's rehabili- tation, nevertheless recommended that members of disbanded political parties such as Masjumi should be allowed to take an active part in political life. Several months later, a national conference of the Lawyers' Association (Persahi) declared in Djakarta that the dissolution of Masjumi and the PSI had been illegal and unconstitutional. Furthermore, the rehabilitation of the two parties would serve to consolidate the New Order.28 Thus it was that supporters of Masjumi were optimistic about their party's rehabilitation: "By December 1966, it was antici- pated that Masjumi's rehabilitation would occur very shortly."29 But in this atmosphere of hopeful expectation, the regional com- manders of the Armed Forces issued a statement on December 21 in which Masjumi was coupled with the PKI in having once devi- ated from the 1945 Constitution. This offensive reference in- duced the former General Chairman of Masjumi, Prawoto, to publish an immediate denial, and, in a press-release, he noted that it was "a great irony that Masjumi, which always invoked us to re- main loyal to the Constitution, has now been grouped with those who have deviated from it."30 Prawoto was sufficiently jolted by the December statement to write to Suharto and request a meeting with him to discuss Masjumi's rehabilitation. In his quite brief letter, Prawoto argued that for him, "As the first man responsible in Masjumi 27. Bajasut, Fakta Documenta, p. 15. The symposium was spon- sored by the University of Indonesia, the Graduates' Front and the National Cultural Research Institute. 28. Ibid., pp. 16-17. 29. Samson, "Islam in Indonesian Politics," p. 1004. 30. Karya Bhakti, December 28, 1966.26 when it was dissolved, the Ampera Cabinet constitutes the only hope of a return to a democratic legal system in our country. ... I am fearful [he continued] lest the Armed Forces' Decem- ber statement be misused by elements who wish to fish in troubled waters and thereby seriously endanger the consolidation of the New Order."31 Although the contents of Prawoto's letter mainly comprised a reiteration of the case earlier presented by Faqih Usman at the May meeting, it was significant in that it elicited a succinct exposition of Suharto's stand on this issue.32 In his reply of January 6, Suharto made it clear that he would not countenance rehabilitation of Masjumi. He said that he still had to observe Presidential Decision No. 7/1959, and he reminded Prawoto that Masjumi had in fact failed to castigate those of its members who joined the PRRI. Suharto trusted that Prawoto would understand his position, for a rebellion could not be tolerated, and action had to be taken against it. He explained that the Armed Forces as a whole, and soldiers' families in par- ticular, who had suffered greatly in the campaign to quell the PRRI and the Darul Islam, were completely unprepared to accept restoration of Masjumi. "Juridical, constitutional and psycho- logical considerations have brought the Armed Forces to one view-point, that is, that the party cannot be rehabilitated." Suharto finally added insult to injury by disclaiming that the special mention of Masjumi in the December statement had any significance, for what was meant was merely that the Armed Forces were resolved to put down any attempt at deviation from Pantjasila and the 1945 Constitution. Suharto hoped that Prawoto could see the problem in the right perspective and thus avoid any abuse of the December statement.33 It appears that Suharto was quite unimpressed with the case for Masjumi's rehabilitation, and we may surmise that any fur- ther attempts to open the door that he had thus slammed shut would not be appreciated. Nevertheless, after waiting two months Prawoto wrote again and elaborated in some detail the reasons for his party's revival. In this second and much longer 31. Solichin Salam, Sedjarah Partai Muslimin, p. 55. 32. At the time, General Suharto was chairman of the ruling Presidium. It seems that Prawoto was unwilling to publicly lead the rehabilitation campaign owing to his belief that Suharto was too preoccupied to give serious thought to the problem. Interview with Prawoto, Djakarta, May 1968. 33. Solichin Salam, Sedjarah Partai Muslimin, pp. 53-55. Al- though marked urgent, Suharto's letter took over two weeks to reach Prawoto's house, by which time copies had been distributed to regional military commanders. Prawoto interview, May 1968.27 letter, Prawoto capitalized on the prevailing anti-Sukarno atmos- phere by reminding Suharto of Masjumi's strong opposition to the President ten years earlier. He suggested that the Presidential Decision quoted by Suharto was unconstitutional, as it contra- vened Article 28 of the 1945 Constitution, which guaranteed freedom of association. Masjumi had in fact, maintained Prawoto, declared the PRRI to be unconstitutional, and he asked how the party could have condemned those members who had participated in the rebellion, since in the regions such as West Sumatra where rebellion occurred, the party had been banned, so that local Masjumi men were no longer party members. Just as Suharto believed any form of revolt intolerable, so Masjumi had opposed the revolt (i.e., the unconstitutional actions) of President Sukarno. Prawoto ended with a bold challenge: "Would it not be more responsible of the Armed Forces which are resolved on hold- ing high law and constitution if they changed their standpoint and . . . declared that Masjumi must be rehabilitated?"3^ Suharto’s reaction to this second appeal is not known. He neither replied nor granted Prawoto’s request for an interview. It may be appropriate at this time to observe that Prawoto's apologia for Masjumi was just as much a justification of its opposition to Guided Democracy as a claim to rehabilitation. But the party never seems to have rebutted the accusation for which it was, at least ostensibly, banned, that it refused to denounce its rebel members. In recounting his party's opposi- tion to the authoritarianism of Sukarno, Prawoto apparently attributes to the army and Suharto a love of constitutional democracy and even a love of political parties which is scarcely indicated by Indonesian history of the last decade. It is pos- sible that Prawoto was deceived by the reverberating calls for the rule of law and democracy which replaced the slogans of the immediate past. Yet it is difficult to see how any of Prawoto's eloquently-argued reasons could have had much weight with Suharto who was at that time finishing his long endeavor-to remove Sukarno from office and contemporaneously prevent disturbances in Central and East Java. The last attempt to secure Masjumi's rehabilitation was at once a more clandestine and more unorthodox one. Indeed, it is not completely certain that Masjumi's rehabilitation was the immediate aim of the movement that now warrants discussion, the Holy War Command (Komando Djihad). This was officially founded 34. Ibid., pp. 55, 58. The audacity of Prawoto probably angered Suharto, for in mid-1968 a rumor was circulating among Masjumi sympathizers that Suharto had once threatened to return Prawoto and other leaders to their former place of detention, if they were determined to press for rehabilita- tion against his stated policy.28 early in 1967 to provide additional strength to the forces of the New Order in their anti-communist struggle. It was asserted, actually, that the Holy War Command and the New Order were in- separable. The strength of the Indonesian people was held to lie in the Islamic community, which could not be suppressed by either the Dutch or the PKI. The Command had two purposes, safe- guarding the nation from total, economic, political and moral destruction and ending the continual slander of the Islamic com- munity by the communists and secret supporters of Sukarno.35 Essentially, the Command was a front of Islamic youth or- ganizations whose aim was to restore the name of the Islamic community, constantly under attack during Guided Democracy, and thus, apparently, to lay the ground for the rehabilitation of Masjumi, perhaps thought of initially more in terms of Islam's rightful resumption of its role as the major force in Indonesian politics.36 After several months of issuing fiery declarations, with Sukarno as a principal target, the Command's activities were banned in Djakarta by Amir Machmud. The chairman of the Command, Abdul Qadir Djaelani, appealed against the ban in an encounter with Brigadier General Sutopo Juwono, Chief of Staff of the Djakarta Military Command. Sutopo Juwono advised the delegation from the Command that: "We must ensure that fighting does not break out between fellow New Order forces. To prevent this, the Armed Forces take steps to control the masses. If society has become a mass inflamed by 'issues,' it will become a snowball that grows bigger and bigger." The Armed Forces, he emphasized, had "the right to level a ban on the basis of secur- ity."37 The ban on the Command's activities was not lifted, and subsequently the Command was dissolved. What was of special significance in this short-lived movement, which suggests nothing so much as a youthful attempt to carry on the tradition of the radical fundamentalists such as Isa Ansjary, was that its disso- lution was ordered on much the same grounds as the government was to invoke in support of its policy towards the Partai Mus- limin Indonesia. It may be unwise to stress the Command's in- terest in Masjumi's rehabilitation, but by the time of the Com- mand's dissolution in April 1967, it had become obvious that Suharto was resolute in his decision not to sanction rehabilita- tion. Thereafter the energies of many former Masjumi supporters were channelled into a long campaign aimed at founding a new Muslim party. 35. This account is based on Documenta Selecta Komando Djihad (Djakarta: n.p., 1967). 36. Soemarsono (Interview, Djakarta, March 1969) suggested that the Command failed to consult the Masjumi leaders before organizing a program of objectives. 37. Documenta Selecta Komando Djihad, p. 7.CHAPTER III THE MOVEMENT TOWARDS A NEW PARTY To trace the foundation of the Partai Muslimin, it will be necessary to turn back to the formation of the Badan Koordinasi Amal Muslimin, set up in December 1965 to unite a variety of Is- lamic social and educational groups, of which many had formerly been constituent members of Masjumi.1 This front originally had both socio-cultural and political aims, but, by early 1966, it was increasingly interested in the rehabilitation of Masjumi.2 During that year, discussions were held between representatives of the Badan Koordinasi and Sjarif Usman’s Rehabilitation Com- mittee. At the same time, however, alternatives to rehabilita- tion were considered and contact was made with ex-Vice President Mohammad Hatta, who was known to be planning a new Muslim party. By October 1966, however, no cooperation had been agreed upon with Hatta, and two months later, the December Armed Forces' statement followed by Suharto's enunciation of government policy on rehabilitation indicated the need for Badan Koordinasi or- ganizations toset up their own party to act as a wadah for their political interests.3 4 At the end of March 1967, Prawoto spoke of much misunderstanding as the cause of the failure of the rehabilitation campaign, and he asserted that if the struggle was continued with patience and wisdom, success would inevitably come.1* But in April, representatives of the Badan Koordinasi Amal Muslimin fixed a dead-line for rehabilitation, after which energies would be turned towards the formation of a new politi- cal party. 1. For a list of the organizations represented in the front, see appendix. 2. Samson suggested that the front was set up solely as a tran- sitional step toward Masjumi's rehabilitation ("Islam in Indonesian Politics," p. 1004). 3. For a discussion of the term wadah (which literally means "receptacle"), see Samson, ibid. 4. Solichin Salam, Sedjarah Partai Muslimin, p. 4. For an out- line of the program and structure of Hatta's projected party, see Rentjana Dasar, Program, dan Struktur Partai Demokrasi Islam Indonesia (Bandung; Angkasa, 196?). This party failed to gain Suharto's approval in April 1967, and Hatta discontinued his efforts. 2930 The outcome of final deliberations with Masjumi leaders held in April was the historic meeting of May 7, 1967, where Masjumi supporters and delegates from the Badan Koordinasi Amal Muslimin decided to set up a committee to prepare for the birth of a party that was "to form a political wadah for that section of the Islamic community whose political aspirations are not yet channelled into an existing wadah."5 The committee comprised seven members and was referred to simply as the Committee of Seven. Its chairman was the Masjumi figure Faqih Usman, vice- chairman Anwar Harjono, secretary Agus Sudono and the other mem- bers were Mrs. Sjamsuridzal, Hasan Basri, Muttaqien and Marzuki Jatim. So began the long process leading to the formation of the Partai Muslimin.6 On May 11, the committee met to discuss the problems concerning the party’s leadership, its constitution and program. On June 20, Faqih Usman and Agus Sudono sent a communication to Suharto informing him of the formation of the Committee of Seven, of the organizations that it represented, and of their ambition to found a political party.7 In his January letter to Prawoto, Suharto had moderated his rejection of rehabilitation by affirming that former members of Masjumi has full rights as citizens according to the law. This was taken by Masjumi supporters to mean that Masjumi leaders would be free to lead the new party. However, by mid-1967, Rosihan Anwar had noted in his Kompas column that army circles objected to the election of either Mohammad Rum or Faqih Usman to the party’s leadership council. He commented that objections based on personal reasons if not backed by legal arguments would constitute a return to the days of Guided Democracy, where "like" and "dislike" policies were supreme.8 The opposition of senior army officers, and of Suharto himself, was one of the main obstacles faced by the founders of the Partai Muslimin, and 5. Solichin Salam, Sedjarah Partai Muslimin, p. 6. 6. The meeting of May 7 unanimously adopted a resolution that the new party should be called Partai Muslimin Indonesia. 7. No reply was received from Suharto, and another letter was sent on July 20. On July 25, a meeting was held between the Committee of Seven and three representatives of the govern- ment, Lieutenant General Basuki Rachmat, Major General Alam- sjah and Brigadier General Sunarso. A series of such meet- ings, where the committee reported on progress towards the party’s formation, occurred throughout the whole of 1967. See Solichin Salam, Sedjarah Partai Muslimin, pp. 7-8. Kompas, July 11, 1967, quoted in Bajasut, Fakta Documenta, p. 23. 8.31 they were not united on how to face it or on what attitude to adopt toward the demands of the government.9 Samson has described this lack of unity as a "split between Muhammadijah and those supporting Masjumi figures," but he ob- served that: "In a way this dichotomy is misleading, for every- one supported the Masjumi figures and wanted to see them in positions of leadership; rather, a matter of emphasis was in- volved. Muhammadijah was less inclined to struggle against ABRI [Armed Forces]-imposed limitations on party composition because its own leadership would be relatively unaffected by limitations in Masjumi's participation. What Muhammadijah wanted was to play the most important role in party formation, reasoning that this role was merited by its strength. Masjumi loyalists were more intense in their determination to guard against an ABRI attempt to limit or exclude Masjumi figures from active roles. No strict split was involved. Many supporters of the Masjumi faction were members of Muhammadijah, many members of mass organizations other than Muhammadijah supported its position and many lower-level Muhammadijah members were bitter at their leaders' actions."10 It might be more accurate to separate the two issues involved in this disagreement, that is the question of attitude towards the imposition of conditions on the party's birth, and the role to be played by Muhammadijah in the party. The former of these in particular has plagued the party even after its formation.* 11 Samson has himself offered a useful distinction between "realists" and "idealists" within the body of PMI supporters confronted by army determination not to permit Masjumi leader- ship of the future party. The idealists were those who empha- 9. It is not clear whether this opposition to leadership by Masjumi men constituted a change in policy by Suharto, or elaboration of a policy which Suharto had been unwilling to clarify fully lest Masjumi supporters become completely alienated from his government. The history of the Partai Muslimin shows a series of government demands or refusals gradually more "hardline" in nature. 10. Samson, "Islam in Indonesian Politics," p. 1008. 11. It is interesting to note a divergence between the two chroniclers of the Partai Muslimin, Bajasut and Solichin Salam, of whom the latter restricts his discussion gener- ally to the lack of unanimity on the problem of how to con- front officially-imposed limitations (see Sedjarah Partai Muslimin, p. 13), whereas Bajasut (Fakta Documenta, pp. 26-27) evinces more concern with the ambitions of Muhamma- dijah.32 sized the principle involved in the demand for rehabilitation of Masjumi, that is that justice had to be done to the former leaders, and the party whose dissolution had been illegal. The advocates of rehabilitation who were reconciled to the idea of a new party were adamant that anti-Masjumi prejudices were not to prevent Masjumi leaders from ruling the party, which would thus be able to "carry on the spirit of Masjumi's struggle," or in other words become a neo-Masjumi.12 The idealists counselled opposition to army demands and maintained that it would be better to have no party at all rather than support a policy of appeasement towards the government.13 The realists held that the most important requirement was for the interests of Masjumi and mass organizations of the Amal Muslimin to be represented in the New Order, and that a political wadah had to be found as soon as possible, whether or not it satisfied all the hopes of former members of Masjumi. Later, it was thought, reconstruc- tion of the party could take place, after legitimacy had been obtained, and then Masjumi leaders could take their rightful place.1 ** By August 1967, the Committee of Seven had drawn up a draft charter for membership in the Partai Muslimin, one clause of 12. A clear exposition of the "idealist" outlook was provided by the PII in a statement read at the May 7 meeting. En- titled "The Islamic Community Answers the Challenge," the declaration defended that movement's refusal to support the PMI. It was asserted that: "Masjumi is willing to be martyred rather than parrot the government ; this is the quality that has not disappeared from the fathers of Masju- mi, and indeed has been inherited by its younger genera- tion. It would be truly amazing if the witness of history which has valued highly Masjumi's character should be ob- literated by the leaders of Masjumi itself and not be- queathed to its younger generation." 13. Among the idealists can be grouped the leaders of the GPU (who had failed in their efforts to gain permission to re- store their movement), the PII, the peasants' front, STII (Sarekat Tani Islam Indonesia) and the senior leaders of Masjumi, of whom the most notable was Prawoto. 14. Such a view was given by Agus Sudono (interview in Djakarta, May 1968). The realists included the leaders of Gasbiindo, HMI, Muhammadijah and in general the mass organizations of the Badan Koordinasi Amal Muslimin, but Muhammadijah, for example, included idealists such as Hamka. On the other hand, among the Masjumi leaders there were some, such as Kasman, who were closer to a realist position, so that the above classifications should not be considered to be with- out exceptions.33 which read: "We in the name of the Islamic organizations sign- ing hereunder without releasing our functions in our respective fields, declare that we support and affiliate [our organizations] within the Partai Muslimin Indonesia."15 This wording was con- sidered to be objectionable by the Muhammadijah leadership be- cause insufficient emphasis was placed on the independence of the mass organizations in their own particular fields. Conse- quently the Muhammadijah refused to sign the charter. In Sep- tember, however, Muhammadijah did sign, after the clause had been rewritten as follows: "We declare we support and affiliate the political activities [of our organizations] with the Partai Muslimin," which implied that in non-political fields, the organizations would be autonpmous.16 The eventual signing of the charter did not assuage feelings outside Muhammadijah that its ambition to dominate the Partai Muslimin would endanger intra-party unity. Mintaredja indicated frankly that Muhamma- dijah, "together with the other supporting organizations, wants to draw up the leadership [of the party] on the basis of musjawarah [consultation] and mufakat [consensus] according to religious teachings and democratic values in force, without any external interference." Warming to his subject, he continued: "According to certain members of the Amal Muslimin Presidium, interference has indeed been felt from outside the Committee of Seven, and, if this has really happened, Muhammadijah strongly resents it."17 What Mintaredja meant was that Masjumi leaders such as Prawoto were overly influential in the committee. Mintaredja also maintained that the Committee of Seven itself was unrepresentative in that a majority of its members were Masjumi figures rather than leaders of the Amal Muslimin organi- zations.18 The various conflicts within the PMI circles were 15. Bajasut, Fakta Documenta, p. 26. 16. Ibid., p. 27. 17. Ibid., p. 29. The italics are Bajasut's. Mintaredja con- cluded these remarks by calling for a perfecting of the committee, "so that it would truly reflect the vital con- stellations of the supporting organizations." This implied that only those Masjumi leaders connected with a mass or- ganization would be eligible: "Those sitting on the Com- mittee of Seven must be selected by the supporting organi- zations." An alternative interpretation would be that he simply meant that the organizations would have the right to elect the committee members, although the nominees need not be from the supporting organizations. However, no change was made in the composition of the Committee of Seven. 18. Both the chairman and vice-chairman were from Masjumi, but three of the members (Sjamsuridzal, Marzuki Jatim and Sudono) came from Amal Muslimin organizations.34 highlighted on October 24, when, at a meeting at his house, Mohammad Natsir told Muhammadijah and Masjumi supporters that they should submerge their differences for the sake of party unity.19 Negotiations continued between the Committee of Seven and the representatives of Suharto. On September 15, a draft list of members of the party leadership council was sent to Suharto, but did not meet government approval, and a revised list was drawn up on October 31. The two lists are as follows:20 September 15 October 31 General Chairman Faqih Usman (Masjumi) Faqih Usman (Muhammadijah) A. D. Sjahruddin (Masjumi) Anwar Harjono (Masjumi) Djarnawi Hadikusuma ( (Muhammadijah) Hasan Basri (Masjumi) E. Z. Muttaqien (Masjumi) Chairmen Anwar Harjono (Masjumi) H. M. Sanusi (Muhammadijah) A. D. Sjahruddin (Masjumi) Hasan Basri (Masjumi) Agus Sudono (Gasbiindo) Djarnawi Hadikusuma (Muhammadij ah) E. Z. Muttaqien (Masjumi) Secretary-General M. Sulaiman (Muhammadijah) M. Sulaiman (Muhammadijah) Secretaries Chadidjah Razak (Wanita Islam) Hasbullah (Muhammadijah) Lukman Harun (Muhammadijah) Umaruddin (?) Umaruddin (?) Chadidjah Razak (Wanita Islam) Lukman Harun (Muhammadijah) Hasbullah (Muhammadijah) Maizir Achmadyns (KBIM) 19. Samson, "Islam in Indonesian Politics," p. 1008. 20. Solichin Salam, Sedjarah Partai Muslimin, pp. 71 and 73. In comparing the two lists, several impressions are felt. Although there are thirty names in each, they are not dis- tributed in the same way; the second has a larger number of chairmen and secretaries, suggesting that the government wanted to give prominence to certain favored ones. The two obvious examples are Sanusi and Agus Sudono who shot up from ordinary membership positions to join the chairmen. The fact that this was an attempt at compromise is clear from the larger number of chairmen in the October list. Even in the second list, however, in the upper level of the leadership council, Masjumi domination is evident, and this is the probable explanation for official disapproval.35 September 15 October 31 Members Affandi Ridwan (PUI) Agus Sudono (Gasbiindo) Aisjah Aminy (HSBI) A. Djuwaeni (Masjumi) Amelz (Masjumi) A. W. Sujoso (Masjumi) Daris Tamin (Muhammadijah) Djamaluddin (Masjumi) E. Sar'an (Persatuan Islam) Faisal (A1 Irsjad) Ismail Hasan Metareum (HMI Alumni) Maftuch Jusuf (Muhammadijah) Maizir Achmadyns (KBIM) 0. K. Azis (Djamiatul Al-Washlijah) H. M. Sanusi (Muhammadijah) S. Buchari (?) Sjarif Usman (Porbisi) Omar Tusin (SNII) Uwes Abubakar (Mathl'aul Anwar) Affandi Ridwan (PUI) Aisjah Aminy (HSBI) A. Djuwaeni (Masjumi) Amelz (Masjumi) A. W. Sujoso (Masjumi) Djamaluddin (Masjumi) Djazman (Muhammadijah) E. Sar'an (Persatuan Islam) Faisal (A1 Irsjad) Ismail Hasan Metareum (HMI Alumni) 0. K. Azis (Djamiatul Al-Washlijah) Omar Tusin (SNII) Rohana Ahmad (Muhammadijah) Buchari (?) Sjarif Usman (Porbisi) Uwes Abubakar (Mathl'aul Anwar) The rejection of what had been considered the maximum result of the Committee of Seven's efforts to balance Masjumi interests with the aspirations of the supporting organizations, or at least the demands of the army to have fullest possible represen- tation of Amal Muslimin elements,21 caused widespread disen- chantment with the circle of PMI supporters. Deep concern was felt whether the party would ever be able to get off the ground. At the beginning of February, however, Anwar Harjono and Agus Sudono of the Committee of Seven were summoned to the house of General Alamsjah, Coordinator of Suharto's Personal Staff, and told that on the evening of February 5, 1968, they would be re- ceived by Suharto to discuss the formation of the party. The agenda might consist of mere checking, Alamsjah said, but that would be wholly up to Suharto.22 It has been known for some time that legalization of the Partai Muslimin would follow such an encounter with Suharto, to whom, it was thought, would be introduced the Committee of Seven, representatives of the Amal Muslimin, and the prospective leaders of the new party. But official invitations received the next day were restricted to all but representatives of the mass organizations. It was only 21. Ibid., p. 8. 22. Ibid. Previously, negotiations had been carried on with Alamsjah, Sunarso and Basuki Rachmat, and this was to be the first official meeting with Suharto.36 through the endeavors of Agus Sudono, who had better relations with Suharto’s staff than had other committee members, that the Committee of Seven was actually invited.23 Just before the meeting, Agus Sudono was given a warning by Alamsjah that Suharto had been persuaded by opponents of the Partai Muslimin to review his policy and consequently might wish to discuss the leadership of the party with the February 5 delegation. It could amount to a request to put Sanusi's name directly below that of Faqih Usman, according to Alamsjah.2^ At the February 5 meeting, the PMI delegates, consisting of the Committee of Seven and of leaders of supporting organiza- tions, were divided into two groups. The first to see Suharto were the four supporter organizations represented in parliament, Muhammadijah, KBIM, Gasbiindo and Djamiatul Al-Washlijah.25 Suharto told them that the matter of the rehabilitation of Masjumi was closed, but ’’some people" were complaining that the Partai Muslimin was simply Masjumi "in a new coat."26 Therefore, as Suharto still endorsed the idea of a new Islamic party, the PMI leadership should truly show that it was made up of a multi- tude of organizations. This was to ensure that the MPRS Deci- sion No. XXII, of the Fourth General Session in 1966, which called for simplification of party life or the party system, would not be violated. So that the PMI could be seen as imple- mentation of that Decision rather than violation, and so that the party would not be seen to be a neo-Masjumi, Suharto said that for the time being no Masjumi leaders who had been promi- nent either in Djakarta or in regional branches at the time of Masjumi’s dissolution could assume leadership of the Partai Mus- limin. He continued: "They can lead from behind. In the future, when you hold a congress and all the Masjumi leaders are returned, that is an internal matter. That is a matter of the sovereignty of the people. I would not be able to intervene again. But now I am responsible."27 23. Interview with Anwar Harjono, Djakarta, May 1968. 24. It is not clear whether rejection of the October list led to any change being made by the Committee of Seven, before preparing to meet Suharto. Neither is it clear whether any suggestions were made by Alamsjah in November on changes that should be made, which would surely have included fur- ther promotion of Sanusi. 25. This first group comprised ten delegates, and the second was addressed by Suharto together with these ten. 26. Bajasut, Fakta Documenta, introduction, p. i. 27. Solichin Salam, Sedjarah Partai Muslimin, p. 8.37 On being asked which Masjumi leaders were considered promi- nent, Suharto replied, somewhat unwillingly, people like Faqih Usman and Anwar Harjono. Then this first group rejoined the others, and Suharto repeated his "advice” that prominent Masjumi figures should not lead the party at its birth. When Anwar Harjono remonstrated that Suharto's assistants had not laid down such a condition during their discussions since mid-1967, Suharto remarked that no matter what agreements had been reached with his staff he alone was responsible for the nation's welfare and political stability.28 Two days later, Sudono was again summoned by Alamsjah and told that the cabinet had been informed of Suharto's decision to recognize the Partai Muslimin, and Alamsjah hoped that the supporter organizations would soon give their reactions to Suharto's "suggestions." Sudono asked who was still objected to by the government, and Alamsjah answered Faqih Usman.29 On February 8, the Committee of Seven met leaders of supporting organizations and offered to resign its mandate to form the party in view of its apparent failure to unite Masjumi elements and mass organizations in one wadah. But instead of disbanding entirely, the committee was revamped, with Faqih Usman and Udin Sjamsuddin as advisers, and Anwar Harjono, Sudono, Djarnawi, Hasan Basri and Maizir Achmadyns as members. It was decided by this committee (now chaired by Anwar Harjono) that Suharto's re- quirements would have to be met, and a revised list of the party leadership was sent to Alamsjah. But the only change was the removal of Faqih Usman's name, and the consequent promotion of everyone else by one position.30 On February 10, Alamsjah ex- pressed dissatisfaction with this step, and recommended that only representatives of mass organizations be appointed to posi- tions within the central leadership, and Masjumi men be listed only if they were also members of one of the Amal Muslimin organizations.31 Thus it was no longer a question of the promi- nent Masjumi leaders being withdrawn, but all. 28. Ibid., p. 10. 29. Ibid. Why Sudono felt it necessary to ask again which leader had to be removed is not plain, given Suharto's reference to both Faqih Usman and Anwar Harjono. 30. Ibid., pp. 10-11. It is difficult to understand why it was necessary to revamp the Committee of Seven, when only this change was intended. 31. Again it appeared that the substance of official objections was only revealed gradually, so that PMI supporters had to keep on retreating in the face of new demands.38 Before taking the next step, the committee elicited a list of some ten men who were unwanted by the government, and on February 14, in yet another meeting, it was recommended by the committee that the following names be removed: Faqih Usman, Anwar Harjono, A. D. Sjahruddin, Hasan Basri, Muttaqien, Sulai- man, Djamaluddin, Sujoso, Sjarif Usman and Amelz. Before finally returning the mandate of the committee, Faqih Usman reminded those present (once again Amal Muslimin organization leaders) that they must obtain legality from the government, that the party leadership would operate until the holding of the first party congress. In any circumstances, he said, party unity should be maintained. At this juncture, however, it was obvious that no such unity existed. The STII walked out of the meeting in protest, the PII was against any effort to found a compromise party, and PUI thought the whole affair might as well be called off.32 The final composition of the central leadership was pre- sented to the government on February 16, and read as follows: General Chairman Chairmen Secretary-General Secretaries Members Djarnawi Hadikusuma (Muhammadijah) Agus Sudono (Gasbiindo) H. M. Sanusi (Muhammadijah) J. Naro (Djamiatul Al-Washlijah) Daud Badaruddin (KBIM) Chadidjah Razak (Wanita Islam) Omar Tusin (SNII) Lukman Harun (Muhammadijah) Amura (HSBI) Imran Kadir (Al-Ittihadijah) Siregar Pahu (Djamiatul Al-Washlijah) Anwar Bey (PUI) Said Suncar (Mathl'aul Anwar) M. Sjariki (Nadlatul Wathan) Rafilus Ishak (Porbisi) Darussamin (PGAIRI) Daris Tamin (Muhammadijah) Djazman (Muhammadijah) Rohana Ahmad (Muhammadijah) 0. K. Azis (Djamiatul Al-Washlijah) Ibrahim Usman (Gasbiindo) Maizir Achmadyns (KBIM) Mrs. Latjuba (Wanita Islam) Affandi Ridwan (PUI) 32. Solichin Salam, Sedjarah Partai Muslimin, pp. 13-14.39 Aisjah Aminy (HSBI) Faisal (A1 Irsjad) Uwes Abubakar (Mathl’aul Anwar) Ichsanuddin Iljas (Porbisi) Abdul Karim (PITI) Saleh Suaidy (Masbi) Mohammad Said (Nadlatul Wathan) Hasbullah (Muhammadijah) Gazal (Al-Ittihadijah) Ismail Hasan Metareum (HMI Alumni) Alala (HMI Alumni)33 This was accepted by the government, and on February 19, Mrs. Sjamsuridzal led a delegation consisting solely of repre- sentatives from Amal Muslimin organizations to be received by Acting President Suharto. The Partai Muslimin was legalized by Presidential Decision No. 70, February 20, 1968, which stated that the party constituted a uniting of Islamic social organiza- tions not yet affiliated with a political party.3