Rethinking National Identity in an Age of Commercial Islam: the Television Industry, Religious Soap Operas, and Indonesian Youth

Rethinking National Identity in an Age of Commercial Islam: The Television Industry, Religious Soap Operas, and Indonesian Youth

Inaya Rakhmani, S.Sos (UI), MA (UvA)

This thesis is presented for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy at Murdoch University

2013

I declare that this thesis is my own account of my research and contains as its main content work which has not previously been submitted for a degree at any tertiary institution.

………………………………………….. Inaya Rakhmani

ABSTRACT

This thesis is about what it means to be Indonesian in an age of commercial Islam. It set out to understand the growing trend of “Islamisation” in Indonesian television after the end of the authoritarian New Order regime (1962 to 1998), which coincided with the rise of Islamic commodification in other sectors (Fealy, 2008). To achieve this, the thesis looks at the institutional practices, Islamic representation, and the reception of the most-watched television format with an Islamic theme, sinetron religi (religious drama). Studies on Indonesian television so far have focused on its structure, construct, and audience as separate entities (e.g. Sen & Hill, 2000; Kitley, 2000; Ida, 2006; Barkin, 2004; Loven, 2008). This thesis is the first research on Indonesian television that understands the institutional frameworks, identity constructs, and its reception as a whole.

As the industry’s livelihood is determined by advertising revenue that relies on audience ratings, it is in the interest of the television stations to broadcast Islamic symbols that are acceptable to the general, “national” viewers. This study takes a look into the tension between Islamic ideologies and commercial interest in the practices that surround sinetron religi. Based on findings, it is revealed that coinciding with the “conservative turn” in post-authoritarian Indonesian Islam (van Bruinessen, 2011), the television industry is feeding into this growing trend of Islamic propagation. In other words, the increasing cultural emphasis on Islam is an interaction between the commodification of Islamic symbols and dakwah agents using the television industry’s existing commercial means to propagate.

Furthermore, the proliferation of Islamic themes triggered the viewers to revisit Indonesia’s pluralistic foundations and reposition Islam as one of the country’s “sub- national identities” (Anderson, 1999). This post-authoritarian national identity is paradoxically related to the New Order national construct which mainly includes major religious and ethnic groups that supports unity and integration. This mode of “partial inclusion” is so common sense because the New Order national consciousness is the foundation upon which Indonesian identity today was constructed. Thus, not only has the combination of Islamic ideologies and commercial values taken place in a medium with nationwide reach, historical legacies contain the very national imagination that is thought to advocate a greater scope of pluralism after the collapse of the authoritarian rule.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Abstract…………………………………………………………………………..… iii Acknowledgements………………………………………………………………… vii Glossary……………………………………………………………………………. ix List of Figures……………………………………………………………………… xii List of Tables………………………………………………………………………. xiv

Part One: Introduction

Chapter 1: Introduction……………………………………………………….. 1 1.1. Nationhood in an Age of Commercial Media…………………. 6 1.2. Locating Islam Indonesiawi in Popular Media……………..…. 13 1.3. Theory and Trajectory…………………………………………. 16 1.4. Scope of Study………………………………………………… 19 1.5. Methods……………………………………………………….. 20 1.6. Thesis Map…………………………………………………….. 25

Chapter 2: The Mainstreaming of Islam into National Culture……………. 28 2.1. Early TVRI (1962 to 1965)……………………………………. 29 2.2. State Television (1965 to 1989)……………………………….. 31 2.2.1. Religious Drama Programmes………………………….. 34 2.2.2. Pengajian Alquran……………………………………… 35 2.2.3. Mimbar Islam……………….………………………...… 37 2.2.4. Irama Qasidah………………………………………….. 37 2.3. Commercial Television under an Authoritarian Rule…………. 39 (1989 to 1998) 2.3.1. Dakwah Programmes…………………………………… 42 2.3.2. Islam in Sinetron………………………………………... 43 2.4. Post-Authoritarian Commercial Television………………….... 44 (1998 to 2010) 2.4.1. Celebrity Dakwah Shows……………………….………. 49 2.4.2. Live Zikir Akbar…………………………………………51 2.4.3. Televised Islamic Music………………………………... 52 2.4.4. Religious Reality Shows………………………………... 54 2.4.5. Dakwah Talent Shows………………………….………..56 2.4.6. Sahur Programmes……………………………………… 58 2.5. Conclusion……………………………………………………...59

Part Two: Industry Structuration

Chapter 3: The Commerce and Culture of Sinetron Religi…………………. 61 3.1. Post Suharto Sinetron Industry………………………………... 62 3.1.1. Television Programming...... 66 3.1.2. The Stripping Method...... 67 3.1.3. Constructing Class Taste...... 68 3.1.4. Sinetron Religi...... 70 3.3. Clusters of Sinetron Religi…………………………………….. 73

3.3.1. Supernatural Sinetron Religi……………………………. 73 3.3.2. Melodramatic Sinetron Religi…………………………... 78 3.3.3. The Alternative Sinetron Religi…….…………………... 83 3.4. Conclusion…………………………………………………….. 87

Chapter 4: Producing Popular Piety...... 89 4.1. Hidayah………………………………………………………... 90 4.2. Munajah Cinta………………………………………………… 93 4.3. Para Pencari Tuhan…………………………………………… 97 4.4. Cluster Commonality and Constraints...... 101 4.2.1. Ustad Authority...... 101 4.2.2. Risk Avoidance…………………………………………. 103 4.5. Conclusion…………………………………………………….. 105

Chapter 5: Politics of Piety……………………………………………………. 107 5.1. Hidayah………………………………………………………... 108 5.1.1. God is with the Poor…………………………………….. 108 5.1.2. Religious Authority……………………………………... 110 5.1.3. Divine Intervention……………………………………... 113 5.2. Munajah Cinta………………………………………………… 115 5.2.1. Muslims, Rich or Poor, are Equal to God………………. 116 5.2.2. Friction Between the Religious and the Secular...... 117 5.2.3. Degree of Islamic Piety...... 119 5.3. Para Pencari Tuhan…………………………………………… 122 5.3.1. We Save Ourselves from Poverty………………………. 123 5.3.2. Fluid Authority…………………………………………. 124 5.3.3. Political Criticism through Islamic Views...... 127 5.4. Conclusion…………………………………………………….. 130

Part Three: Viewer Agency

Chapter 6: Performing Identities……………………………………………... 133 6.1. Cultural Context……………………………………………….. 134 6.2. Responses towards Hidayah…………………………………... 142 6.2.1. Mysticism is Irrational………………………………….. 142 6.2.2. Religious Modernisation………………………………... 145 6.3. Responses towards Munajah Cinta……………………………. 149 6.4. Responses towards Para Pencari Tuhan……………………… 153 6.4.1. Beyond Muslim Politics………………………………… 153 6.4.2. Religion as Sub-Nation…………………………………. 156 6.5. Conclusion…………………………………………………….. 161

Chapter 7: Competing Identities……………………………………………… 163 7.1. Cultural Context……………………………………………….. 164 7.2. Responses towards Hidayah…………………………………... 171 7.2.1. Acehnese’s Modern Islam………………………………. 173 7.2.2. “We” Christians, “You” Muslims………………………. 175 7.3. Responses towards Munajah Cinta……………………………. 178 7.3.1. A Generic Sinetron, but with Jilbab……………………. 178 7.2.2. “Polygamy Goes Against Christianity”………………… 181 7.4. Responses towards Para Pencari Tuhan……………………… 183

7.4.1. Unified Diversity……………………………………….. 185 7.4.2. Power Imbalance……………………………………….. 187 7.6. Conclusion…………………………………………………….. 189

Chapter 8: The Politics of Difference………………………………………… 191 8.1. Politics of Piety……………………………………………….. 192 8.2. Representing Difference……………………….……………… 195 8.3. Conclusion…………………………………………………….. 200

Part Four: Conclusion

Chapter 9: Conclusions: Being Indonesian in an Age of………………….… 203 Commercial Islam 9.1. Television as a National Stage……………………………….... 206 9.1.1. The Myth of the Sinetron...... 207 9.1.2. Critical Viewing...... 208 9.1.3. A National Stage...... 209 9.2. Rethinking National Identity…………………….…………..... 211

Appendices………………………………………………………………………… 215 References…………………………………………………………………………. 227

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Never would I have thought that writing a one-page acknowledgement would take longer than revising a chapter. Somewhere between not wanting to leave anyone out and not wanting to simply provide a long list of names, I accept that I will never do justice in expressing the gratitude I feel to those who have left deep impressions on me during this journey. Taking the risk of sounding dry, I decided to instead focus on those who were the most substantial and apologise to those whose names I failed to mention.

Firstly, I could never have completed this research without the guidance, trust, and flexibility of my two supervisors, David T. Hill and Garry Rodan. I am truly indebted and hope to extend what I have learned from their academic excellence through every opportunity. I would also like to extend gratitude to AusAID and the Australian Leadership Awards (ALA) to have funded my studies, and Amanda Third for her supervision in the early stages of writing.

I would also like to thank the kind assistance of Jasmine Pratiwi, Nurvina Alifa, Indira Prisanti, and Marsya Anggia in particular. I was very lucky to have met such bright and resourceful young women and more so that they agreed to be part of what at times seemed to be an overly ambitious project. I would like to thank all the production houses, television producers, schools, teachers, and students who let me follow them around, sit in their daily activities, and granted me interviews. I would also like to give a special thanks to everyone at the Asia Research Centre, Murdoch University. I’m grateful to be part of a centre with such a collegial atmosphere.

I thank Endah Triastuti, Diani Citra, and Levriana Yustriani, with whom I’ve grown while writing this thesis, for their criticism and friendship. And finally, I would like to thank Malik Hannan and Arya Toekan, for having so tirelessly traveled with me in this journey, for their tough love, and the humanising bond that we share. Here is to always trying to listen.

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I dedicate this thesis to my parents, Hayatie and Amal, who have exposed to their children the contrasts between “Western”, Islamic, and public education since a very young age.

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GLOSSARY

Adzan The call to prayer in Islam.

Bedug Bedug or bedhug is a traditional drum used to indicate Magrib (sunset) prayers and usually associated with Islam and pre-Islamic Javanese culture.

Beli putus Cash and carry.

Bhineka Tunggal Ika Indonesia’s national slogan, meaning “many and varied, but one”.

Dakwah Islamic propagation.

Dangdut A populist, “Indonesian” music genre that can be traced back to Indian and Betawi influences.

Demokrasi Terpimpin The Guided Democracy period (1962-1965) under President Sukarno.

DOM Daerah Operasi Militer or Military Operational Area.

GAM Gerakan Aceh Merdeka or the Free Aceh Movement.

Irama Qasidah Or the Qasidah Rhythm is one of the programmes aired as part of the Mimbar Agama Islam block in late 1980s TVRI.

Jual putus Outright sale.

Kampung Rural and semi-rural community

Kejar tayang The broadcasting strategy that relates to tight deadlines, where sinetron need to be recorded, edited and submitted in two days.

KPI Komisi Penyiaran Indonesia or the Indonesian Broadcasting Commission.

Lekra Lembaga Kebudayaan Rakyat or the Institute for People’s Culture was a cultural movement loosely aligned with the Indonesian Communist Party.

Lesbumi Lembaga Seni Budaya Muslim Indonesia or the Institute for Indonesian Muslim Arts and Culture was the cultural wing of NU.

Maghrib Evening Islamic prayer, at approximately 06:00 pm.

Mimbar Agama A religious show aired throughout the late 1980s on TVRI.

Mimbar Agama Islam Or the Islamic Religious Platform is the program block dedicated to Islamic religious views in the late 1980s TVRI.

Mistik Or mystic, refers as well to occult and supernatural.

Mop Papua Refers to humorous Papuan anecdotes. It has been reproduced into short sketches in the television show Epen Kah… Cupen Toh… broadcasted by TV Merauke.

MPR Majelis Permusyawaratan Rakyat or the People’s Consultative Assembly.

Mudik Connotatively means “homeward bound”. In Indonesia, it refers to returning to one’s home town/village several days before the Islamic feast Idul Fitri or Lebaran.

Muhammadiyah One of the two largest Muslim organisations in Indonesia; regarded as modernist.

Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) One of the two largest Muslim organisations in Indonesia; regardedas traditionalist.

Nasyid Refers to a song genre that is popular as a vehicle for moral teachings or dakwah in Indonesia.

New Order The period in which Suharto ruled (1965-1998) Indonesia.

OPM Organisasi Papua Merdeka or the Free Papua Organisation.

Pancasila The five principles of the state; Indonesia’s official philosophical foundation.

Pengajian Alquran Or the Quranic Recitation is one programme in the Mimbar Agama Islam block.

Pesantren Islamic boarding school.

PKS Partai Keadilan Sejahtera or the Prosperous Justice Party.

Pramuka Scout troops.

PSSI Persatuan Sepakbola Seluruh Indonesia or the Football Association of Indonesia

PT Perseroan Terbatas or corporation.

Qasidah Persian poetry acculturated into “Indonesian” music.

Rahasia Ilahi A supernatural Islamic-themed soap opera (God’s Secret) regarded as beginning the trend for such programmes in Indonesia.

Ramadan The Islamic fasting month.

SARA Suku (Ethnicity), Agama (Religion), Ras (Race), Antar- Golongan (Inter-group), which is a term popularly used during the New Order to refer to potential social unrest caused by friction between groups.

Sinematek Indonesia Sinematek Indonesia or the Usmar Ismail Film Centre is a non-profit institution that houses data, documentation, and information on Indonesia’s film landscape.

Sinetron A morpheme of sinema (cinema) and elektronik (electronic), comparable to soap opera or television drama.

Sinetron religi Islamic-themed soap operas or religious drama.

SMAN Sekolah Menengah Atas Negeri or State High School.

Teledakwah Televised dakwah.

TMII Taman Mini Indonesia Indah or the Beautiful Mini Indonesia theme park.

TVRI Televisi Republik Indonesia, national state-funded TV network

Sahur The morning meal or the last meal before the daily Islamic fast begins at dawn.

Sekolah unggulan Well-regarded school graded formally by the Ministry of Education and informally by public perception.

Subuh The sunrise Islamic prayes.

Ustad In an Indonesian context, ustad and ustazah for women refer to Muslim clerics, priests, teachers, or leaders (in a scholarly context, they are often mentioned as ulama). It is comparable to kyai (Javanese) and buya (Minang).

Zikir Or Dhikr is a form of praising, mentioning and remembering the name of Allah by repeating divine names, as explained in the Hadith and Quran.

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 2.1. Religious Drama Programmes on TVRI………………………….... 35 Figure 2.2. Pengajian Alquran on TVRI……………………………………….. 36 Figure 2.3. Reading of the Quran’s literal translation...... 36 Figure 2.4. Three members of Patria, a qasidah group, pose…………………... 38 Figure 2.5. Conventional format of qasidah show on central TVRI in………… 39 the 1990s. Figure 2.6. Dakwah Programmes………………………………………………. 42 Figure 2.7. Television Leads Consumption in Indonesia………………………. 46 Figure 2.8. Celebrity Dakwah Shows…………………………………………... 50 Figure 2.9. New Year's Eve national zikir ceremony…………………………... 52 Figure 2.10. Singer Opick performing with nasyid acapela SNada...... 53 Figure 2.11. Mega Konser Ramadan, Live from Cikarang……………………… 54 Figure 2.12. Exorcism of gombel ghost in Pendem, Central Java……………….. 55 Figure 2.13. Elimination round for DAI show, on Mimbar Dai, TPI…………… 57 Figure 3.1. Sinetron Trend 1998-2010...... 71 Figure 3.2. Truth disclaimers in supernatural sinetron religi...... 75 Figure 3.3. Melodramatic sinetron religi promotional posters...... 79 Figure 3.4. Actor and Actress Intertextuality...... 82 Figure 3.5. Hareem and Inayah...... 83 Figure 3.6. Stills from Kiamat Sudah Dekat (2003)...... 85 Figure 4.1. Hidayah Magazine August 2005 cover and………………………... 91 sinetron Hidayah promotional poster. Figure 4.2. Stills from Hidayah magazine used as montage for……………..… 92 opening titles of Hidayah. Figure 4.3. SinemArt promotional poster for Munajah Cinta………………….. 94 Figure 4.4. Stills from Munajah Cinta opening title………………………….... 95 Figure 4.5. Promotional poster for Para Pencari Tuhan……………………….. 97 Figure 4.6. Characters from Para Pencari Tuhan……………………………… 99 Figure 5.1. Stills captured from Hidayah………………………………………. 109 Figure 5.2. Headshots of ustad in Hidayah…………………………………….. 110 Figure 5.3. Ustad in Hidayah…………………………………………………... 111 Figure 5.4. Still from Hidayah episode………………………………………… 112 Figure 5.5. Stills of Khumaira, Attar, and Maemunah praying to……………… 116 beg for God’s mercy. Figure 5.6. Different apparels on ustad to symbolise degree of piety…………..121 Figure 5.7. Stills of musholla At Taufik………………………………….…….. 122

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Figure 5.8. Stills of PPT characters preparing raskin…………………………... 123 Figure 5.9. Business discussion in a religious space…………………………… 126 Figure 5.10. Simultaneous congregational prayers in PPT……………………… 129 Figure 7.1. Jayapura school…………………………………………………….. 168 Figure 7.2. Banda Aceh School………………………………………………… 168

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LIST OF TABLES

Table 2.1. Weekly TVRI Programme Schedule (1-7 July 1987)……………… 33 Table 2.2. Commercial television stations operating in Indonesia in 1998…… 40 Table 2.3. Dakwah Shows Aired by Indonesian Television Stations in 1997… 43 Table 2.4. Advertising Expenditure for Television and Print in………………. 45 Indonesia (in Indonesian Rupiah). Table 2.5. Television Development in Indonesia (1962-2005)……………….. 45 Table 2.6. Television Programmes during the Ramadan……………………… 58 Sahur Time Slot (October 2004). Table 3.1. 2011 Audience Share and Main Content by Television Station...... 64 Table 3.2. Total Amount of Sinetron Titles Broadcasted (2005-2010)...... 65 Table 3.3. List of Supernatural Sinetron Religi (2005-2007)...... 74 Table 3.4. List of Ustad or Ustazah Appearing in Supernatural...... 76 Sinetron Religi. Table 3.5. List of Melodramatic Sinetron Religi (2008-2010)...... 80 Table 3.6. Sinetron Religi Produced by SinemArt (2008-2010)...... 81 Table 3.7. List of Alternative Sinetron Religi (2007-2009)...... 85 Table 6.1. Participant Background (Jakarta, Banjarmasin, Makassar,………... 140 Denpasar). Table 6.2. Participants’ Television Practice…………………………………… 141 Table 6.3. Audience Responses towards the Hidayah Clip (Critical………….. 143 Reading). Table 6.4. Audience Responses towards the Hidayah Clip (Referential……… 146 Reading). Table 6.5. Audience Responses towards the Munajah Cinta Clip…………….. 150 Table 6.6. Audience Responses towards the Para Pencari Tuhan Clip………. 154 (Critical Reading). Table 6.7. Audience Responses towards the Para Pencari Tuhan Clip………. 157 (Referential Reading). Table 7.1. Participant Background (Banda Aceh and Jayapura)……………… 169 Table 7.2. Participants’ Television Practice…………………………………… 170 Table 7.3. Audience Responses towards the Hidayah Clip…………………… 172 Table 7.4. Audience Responses towards the Munajah Cinta Clip…………….. 179 (Critical Reading). Table 7.5. Audience Responses towards the Para Pencari Tuhan……………. 184 Clip (Critical-Referential Reading).

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Part One: Introduction

No idea has had so profound an influence on the refiguration of Muslim politics in modern Indonesia as has nationalism (R.W. Hefner, 2000, p. 37).

CHAPTER ONE

INTRODUCTION

Di mana bumi dipijak, di situ langit dijunjung (Indonesian Proverb).

I remember vividly that we, Indonesian primary school students of the authoritarian, New Order (1965-1998) regime, had to memorise several Indonesian proverbs such as the one above for our Indonesian language course. The proverb literally means, ―Wherever you step down the earth, there you hold up the sky‖.1 Figuratively, it refers to the notion that we must appreciate the local customs of each place or to abide by the customs of a society.

I learned after that the government had something particular in mind when promoting the ―tolerance towards difference‖ and ―similarities within difference‖. Memorising proverbs is just one of the many methods deployed to create a sense of fraternity, nationality or a sense of unity despite different cultural and religious upbringing. In a country with roughly 6000 inhabited islands, 240 million citizens, 300 ethnic groups, 740 languages and dialects, and six religious groups acknowledged by the state,2 it is not surprising that then President Suharto, through various national projects (Kitley, 2000), envisioned the unity of Indonesian citizens based on a sense of sameness.

It is problematic, however, when such national cultural projects systematically unite the nation by integration and cultural homogenisation, through carefully avoiding the depiction of any symbols that undermine national unity (Kitley, 2000). Under the New Order regime, the state institutions (i.e. media and education) recognised mainly the major ethnic and religious groups that reflected the ―highest cultural achievement‖ as part of building a nation (Colchester, 1986; Picard, 1997). Thus, ethnic and religious minorities who are perceived by the state as not sharing this ―civilised‖ quality are

1 It has the closest English equivalent in the saying ―When in Rome, do as the Romans do‖ (Arimi, 2005, p. 90). 2 Examples of religious groups not acknowledged by the state, despite its common practices in its particular area, are the Javanese Kejawen, Sundanese Wiwitan, Torajan Aluk To Dolo, and Dayak Kaharingan. No reliable statistics are available for the number of followers, because some continue to practice their ―old religion‖ by marrying it with ―new religion‖ such as Hindu Kaharingan (Schiller, 1996, p. 409). 1 clustered together as if sharing a common primitive nature that goes against ―national interest‖.

Kitley explains this as ―three entwined processes of cultural denial, affirmation and invention, which together have attempted to map a unitary and unifying cultural identity across the territory‖ (2000, p. 4). What he means by cultural denial was particularly directed in denying ethnic identities that threaten the development of national unity and integration, inventing the national culture through symbols; such as televising the national flag in ceremonies. During the New Order regime, the media3 were central to the development of ―national culture‖. Among the many types of media institutions to have an important role during the New Order‘s national culture project, the country‘s then only state-owned television station, TVRI (Televisi Republik Indonesia) was the most strategic in designing programmes to shape a national consciousness. As an Indonesian seven year old sitting in front of the magic box that is television, I remember how television programmes such as Si Unyil4 and Cerdas Cermat5 had left impressions on me in imagining a national space, as I suspect they did for many others of my generation.

Representation of national identity through Indonesia‘s television is significantly related to the ruling regime of each period. It is also related to the spirit of discarding the dominant identity of the previous period. During the early years of Independence (1945 to 1950), the notion of nationalism was linked to nationalist, anti-imperialist sentiments (Sasongko & Katjasungkana, 1991; Prasetya, 2010). Sukarno was notable in his attempts to foster national pride through an ―Eastern‖ perspective, even going as far as indigenising the national economy (Chua, 1995, p. 254). During the first two decades of the New Order, this diversity was seen as counter-productive to achieving a common national goal of economic development. Therefore some previously celebrated sub-

3 I use the term ―media‖ singularly to refer to institutional media that shapes a system or an industry and represents a shared identity in an attempt to address a large audience, often inseparable from economic motives. I acknowledge the presence of alternative, independent, or media of resistance that try to advocate for counter-ideology (Atton, 2002). These media artefacts, although significant, are outside of the scope of my PhD research. 4 Si Unyil (The Boy, Unyil) was a children‘s puppet show aired by TVRI between 1981 to 1993 that involves familiar stories from indigenous oral tradition and folk traditions intended to socialise children into preferred, Indonesian ways of behaving (Kitley, 2000, p. 113). 5 Cerdas Cermat (Smart and Sharp) was a school subject game show between primary school students that portrayed students as diligent and hardworking, rewarding these merits with trophies at the end of each episodes (Rakhmani, 2007, p. 64). 2 national identities were denied,6 some were affirmed, and national culture was invented. Foreign influence, from financial aid to media content, which was previously seen as a post-colonial threat during the early Independence period, was also welcomed during the New Order (Robison & Rosser, 1998; Budianta, 2000).

In 2007, I remember asking my undergraduate students about ―anti ideology in Indonesia‖. The specific question was ―If the New Order regime had worked under an anti communist ideology, under what anti ideology do you think Indonesia operates now?‖ to which they answered ―anti New Order ideology‖. If a person were to cite Pancasila in a daily conversation, the common response would be ―That is very New Order of you‖ (Orde Baru sekali kamu) in a derogatory manner. In 2012, with the increase in religious violence such as attacks on minority religious groups including Ahmadis and Shiites, widely-read newspaper Kompas began emphasising Pancasila as the basis to manage diversity. These two cases illustrate how notions of plurality and diversity are continually challenged in everyday and media politics. What is important to note is that, respectively, previously dominant and suppressed identities are now part of discursive, public debates. Thus, New Order regime media‘s construction of what it means to be Indonesian is being redefined and given a new meaning after 30 years of authoritarian rule. In a society transitioning towards democracy as Indonesia is today, the role of the state in Indonesia today is less apparent in national narratives than it was after the Independence and during the New Order.

This claim may be illustrated, particularly in the context of media, by Indonesian film produced after the fall of the New Order. In the films Berbagi Suami (Love for Share) and Laskar Pelangi (Rainbow Troops), both of which were commercial successes and contained social criticism, the dominant ideology in contemporary Indonesia was questioned. Berbagi Suami questions patriarchal culture in Indonesia in relation to social class, polygamy and poverty (Wicaksono, 2007, p. 134), while Laskar Pelangi7 questions central dominance over peripheral areas (Karni, 2008, p. 157). Questioning female marginalisation and central dominance was regarded as undermining national stability during the New Order.

6 Particularly SARA or Suku (Ethnicity), Agama (Religion), Ras (Race), Antar-Golongan (Intergroup), which is a term popularly used during the New Order to manage potential social unrest caused by friction between groups (―Soeharto Warns‖, 1998). 7 Laskar Pelangi is a film based on Andrea Hirata‘s novel of the same title, portrays poor children of Belitong, an island rich in tin with obvious social and economical disparity between the rich and the poor during the peak of the New Order. 3

The question remains, if such films become market successes, do these previously marginalised issues still account for being the ―subaltern‖ (Gramsci, 1992)? And conversely, do such cultural products, with their massive appeal, become devoid of politics and turn masses into consumers (Adorno & Horkheimer, 1977)? In this thesis, I approach pop cultural products as both political and economic practices.8 To think one can only understand them as either cultural artefacts embedded with significant political struggles as explained by Third Cinema (Gabriel, 1982), or commodities overridden with economic interest (Adorno & Horkheimer, 1977) is respectively over- romanticising and economically deterministic. Williams (1981), in this matter, has spoken about the relationship between the material/economic and the culture. His approach argues that the material does not determine the meaning of cultural practice, instead it limits cultural expression.

The limiting of expression is a consequence of artefacts that are products of a cultural industry. The industrialisation of culture ―involves significant capital investment, mechanised production and division of labour‖ (Hesmondhalgh, 2007, p. 55). This term is often mistaken as commodification, or the transforming of use-value to exchange- value (Mosco, 2009, p. 129),9 which does not always require an industry for it to materialise. Because the television industry is inseparable from commercialisation, or the creation of a relationship between audience and advertisers (Mosco, 2009, p. 132), this in turn determines which symbols can become commodities. The cultural symbols most potent in attaining the largest market, through commodification, eventually support the industrialisation of culture. This encompasses, among other things, standardised production processes and the creation of formulaic television shows.

There is some resemblance between both the power from the New Order‘s use of television in portraying monolithic nation-building images (―state apparatus‖; Althusser, 1971) and the market-oriented television system with the notion cultural industry. In

8 I use the term ―product‖, instead of artefacts or manifestation, as in the world today, they almost always possess economic value. I would like to acknowledge, by using this term, that in Indonesia the media system is an industry, where television programmes, film, magazine articles are treated as ―goods‖ by the culture industry (Adorno & Horkheimer, 1977). I note that the culture industry thesis has been much criticised for its elitist view towards mass cultural products, particularly by British Cultural Studies theorists (I return to this later in the chapter). Thus, in this thesis, I would like to set forth Hesmondhalgh‘s (2007) cultural industries that embrace the economic base of organising the production of culture as well as the interconnectivity between culture and communication systems. 9 Mosco (2009) further divides four types in relation to the commodification of the communication industry in: content, audience, cybernetic, and labour. 4 their homogeneity, a phenomenon of representing essentially the same thing – television content under state control and economic-determinism – does deny individuality or particularity. What was seen by liberal economists as a climate that may foster diverse ranges of options for consumers in practice eventually led to limiting the diversity of television content in favour of business efficiency (Golding & Murdock, 1991; Bagdikian, 2004).

The major shift from a single state-owned television system to a thriving commercial system has invariably affected its content and formatting (Kitley, 2000; Sen & Hill, 2000; Barkin, 2004; Ida, 2006). National symbols are portrayed in ways that would be regarded by the New Order regime as destablising, emancipating these symbols from state control. Symbols revered during the New Order, particularly portrayed in television to build a sense of nationality, have been recontextualised in televised popular culture.

One of the most popular sketch comedy and variety shows in Indonesia,10 Extravaganza for instance, parodied the New Order educational TV programme Cerdas Cermat in 2006. The national symbols in the show, such as the school uniforms used by the actors and actresses to mimic Cerdas Cermat, are central to the effectiveness of the comedy. ―These symbols, which have been reinforced as a shared national meaning, have shifted contexts while remaining ―shared‖ by the audience‖ (Rakhmani, 2007, p. 65). The images that had been controlled under the previous regime have become emancipated from state interest. On one hand, the current commercial system allows a freer climate to re-appropriate national symbols. On the other hand, these national symbols, despite being shared, are re-appropriated for mass consumption and in that, their role in shaping a national consciousness deserves further analysis.

Ida criticises the economic determinism of television industry insiders in Indonesia who ―imagine and define the audience almost entirely numerically and structurally‖ (2006, p. 2). She also looks at how the state and critics often see the audience as passive viewers needing protection. She challenges the academic discourse of media studies in Indonesia that centres on institutional practices by studying the everyday culture of rural, kampung (rural communities within large cities) female viewers. On the one hand, I agree with Ida that the problems of the television industry cannot solely be understood through

10 I explain further about this format in Chapter Two. 5 media political economic approaches (Herman & Chomsky, 1988; Mosco, 2009). On the other, media ethnographic approaches tend to set aside the structural, economic practices that implicate media culture (Hartley, 2002; Morley, 1980; Lull, 1990; Ang, 1985; 1991).

It is with that in mind that this thesis sets out to examine how ideology appears as ―the fragmented meanings of common sense inherent in a variety of representations‖ (Gramsci, 1971, in Barker, 2003, p. 66). Popular culture as common sense is seen here as a site for potential ideological contestation, as even the most dominant of ideologies never go unchallenged. This is not to say that popular culture is an even playing field. The very assumption that it is produced by a cultural industry establishes that it is not. The important thing to note is that ideology is not rigid and static. It involves the process of contestation between the producers and receivers whose expression is limited by commercial interest. By taking these aspects into account, this thesis aims to explore the contemporary ways with which the television industry imagines cultural aspects of Indonesian identity through televised representation, the ideological contestation within televised text, and furthermore study its audience reception – which I approach as ―television practice‖.

Nationhood in an Age of Commercial Media

Notable academic works that analyse Indonesia‘s nationalism echo some more general studies of nationalism (Ignatieff, 1993; Billig, 1995; Beiner, 1993; Gellner, 1983). In particular, canonical works in the field discuss how a primordial sense of identity gave shape to the rise of Indonesian nationalism (Kahin, 1952; Henley, 1996; Anderson, 1983; Christie, 1996). There are two historical events that that embody the particularity of Indonesian national identity and that at the same time show desires for ―pan- nationalism‖ or how ―congruent nationalisms can foster harmony and commonality of objectives‖ (Liow, 2004, p. 3). These events engage, among other elements, ethnicity, religious groups, and gender.

The first event is the Youth Pledge (Sumpah Pemuda) in Jakarta, taken at a Youth Congress on 27-28 October 1928, that declared the unity of a nation under one motherland, one nation, and one language of unity. The Youth Pledge congress was attended by various ethnic and religious organisations from across the Dutch colonial

6 territory, including Jong Java, Jong Islamieten Bond, Jong batak, Jong Celebes, Jong Ambon, Minahasa Bond, Madura Bond, and Pemuda Betawi. The second is the formalisation of Pancasila as a political philosophy in Indonesia on 1 June 1945. Then President Sukarno proposed the Sanskrit words Bhineka Tunggal Ika (many and varied, but one) as the national slogan, which emphasises national pluralism. The plurality of Indonesia‘s ―sub-nations‖ (Anderson, 1999),11 which is centred historically on ethnic and religious identities, were united by a common struggle against colonialists. According to Anderson ―nationalism arises when, in a certain physical territory, the inhabitants begin to feel that they share a common destiny, a common feature‖ (1999, p. 3). These two national events are, in this sense, notable in at least two important ways.

Firstly, ―one can see how much nationalism is tied to visions and hopes for the future if one looks at the names of the early organizations that joined the independence movement in the beginning of our century‖ (Anderson, 1999, p. 3). The names of the organisations were centred on the youth,12 and ―their orientation was to the future and their social basis was youth‖ (Anderson, 1999, p. 3). Secondly, ―the youngsters of those days signalled their regional origins not in the name of separatist local nationalisms, but in their committing of these regional origins to a colony-wide joint and common project of liberation‖ (Anderson, 1999, p. 3).13

Anderson also explains the origin of nations by emphasising the importance of their cultural roots because ―neither economic interest, Liberalism, nor Enlightenment could, or did, create in themselves the kind, or shape, of imagined community‖ (1983, p. 5). He proposes a definition of the nation as ―an imagined political community – and imagined as both inherently limited and sovereign‖ (Anderson, 1983, p. 6).

11 I study these ―sub-nations‖ within the nation-state construct (Anderson, 1999). I do not propose that religion and ethnicity, for instance, are always fixed as a practice that is subordinated by the nation. In fact, recent changes show how Islam challenges the nation-state through trans-national terrorist groups that desire pan-Islamism (Özcan, 1997; Qureshi, 1999). However, in this thesis, I study how these ―sub- nations‖ work within the boundaries of nationalism. 12 Anderson‘s remark on the youth social basis of Indonesian nationalism is somewhat reflected in ―youth culture‖ (Oswell, 1998; Mallan & Pearce, 2003). Youth culture, a form of specificity examined in cultural studies (other than, e.g. ageism, generationalism, etc), often note how young people refuse to model their behaviour on what the parent culture considers appropriate. This ―parent culture‖ is what establishes hierarchical conditions of society, which the young challenge (Oswell, 1998, p. 38). 13 Anderson continues by explaining that ―they paid no mind to the fact that Acehnese kings had once ―colonized‖ the coastal regions of Minangkabau, that Buginese kings had enslaved Torajanese hillpeople, that Javanese aristocrats had tried to subjugate the Sunda highlands, or that Balinese overlords had successfully conquered the island of the Sasak‖ (Anderson, 1999, p. 3). 7

It is imagined because the members of even the smallest nation will never know most of their fellow members, meet them or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of their communion. … The nation is imagined as limited because even the largest of them, encompassing perhaps a billion living human beings, has finite, if elastic, boundaries, beyond which lie other nations. … It is imagined as sovereign because the concept of nation was born in an age in which the Enlightenment and Revolution were destroying the legitimacy of the divinely-ordained, hierarchical dynastic realm. … Finally, it is imagined as a community, because, regardless of the actual inequality and exploitation that may prevail in each, the nation is always conceived as a deep, horizontal comradeship. Ultimately it is this fraternity that makes it possible, over the past two centuries, for so many millions of people, not so much to kill, as willingly to die for such limited imaginings (Anderson, 1983, pp. 5-6).

Anderson (1983) places great emphasis on economic change that had cultivated the spread of social discoveries through increasingly borderless communication made possible by the logic of capitalism. Print capitalism was central, for Anderson, to the development of nations. Communication and literature helped spread common languages and national consciousness to a broader readership previously separated; also spreading out knowledge systems previously limited to a small literati. Taking a constructivist position, with print capitalism at the centre of his thesis, he sees it as the entity that allowed the breaking down of pre-national cultural systems.

Chatterjee (1993) questions Anderson‘s sociological determinism by reminding his readers that, although Anderson made an ingenious contribution to the Marxist debate on nationalism by exploring the ideological creation of the nation as a central problem, in the end he sees Anderson‘s nationalism as profoundly ―modular‖. Chatterjee (1993) asks the question ―Whose imagined community?‖ and further answers that for Anderson it is a community imagined through a process involving ―the formation of a ―print- language‖ and the shared experience of the journeys undertaken by the colonized intelligentsia‖ (Gellner, 1983, p. 21). In a way, by treating nationalism as a social construction, Anderson does not see nationalism as a discursive practice – continually reproduced and challenged.

The anti-colonialist struggle embodied through the Youth Pledge, in this manner, is a movement defined by the common project imagined by the colonised intelligentsia. Chatterjee would see them as ―vanguard intelligentsia coming to state power by ―mobilizing‖ popular nationalism and using the ―Machiavellian‖ instruments of official nationalism‖ (1993, p. 22). Fischer somewhat marries both approaches by stating that

―power always assumes cultural dimensions, and various modern nationalisms both exploit and manifest this. Nationalism takes form in an already cultural and changing world‖ (1999, p. 493).

The ways in which modern nationalism exploits and manifests itself through cultural dimensions can only be understood in non-essentialistic terms.14 Although its cultural roots help shape how it manifests today, national identity is never fixed nor stable. While Appadurai (1996) emphasises the ideological rather than spatial, how the media plays a part in the manifestation and re-articulation of nationalism today is as important as ever. With Anderson‘s (1983) emphasis on print-capitalism and imagined community in mind, how do the media become a space in which national identity are constructed and contested?

Studies on media and national identity are well rehearsed in the literature (Morley & Robins, 1995; Schlesinger, 1991; Gillespie, 1995). Scholars that take the media ethnographic approach challenge sociologically deterministic ideas by revealing the voices of the marginalised and the subaltern. In many cases, the subaltern seem to be untouched by these otherwise assumed dominant constructions, sometimes even empowered by indirect resistance (Hall, 1980; Morley, 1980; Ang, 1985; Drotner, 1994).

What is significant with this approach is that they place media as inseparable from contemporary cultural practices, no longer limiting them as a medium that subdues mindless masses (i.e. Frankfurt School) or a non-biased object that serves the needs of its active users (i.e. classical mass communication theories; McQuail, 2005). European cultural studies scholars, in particular, challenged the formerly dominant notion in media studies that saw communication as a one-way, mass dissemination of information through media technology. The collection of their findings helped shape a paradigm that no longer treats the receivers as passive objects, and in their own cultural experience of the media, receivers are seen as active subjects. Hall‘s (1980) ―encoding/decoding‖ model is perhaps the most notable in this approach, as he shows how multiple interpretations of media texts can occur during reception.

14 This is particularly where I distance myself from Chatterjee‘s (1993) view. 9

Hall‘s (1980) ―encoding/decoding‖ model presupposes that media text is always a vehicle for dominant ideology. Hall, and many scholars who use this approach, no longer see power as monopolised by media producers and place it as central in the analysis. Thus, in contesting media text, receivers or audiences are also placed within the dichotomy of active and passive audiences. In this idea, identity is ―not an essence but a positioning. Hence there is always a politics of identity, a politics of position‖ (Hall, 1980, p. 226). Hall continues by stating that ―identity should be seen as a ―production‖ which is never complete, always in process‖ (1980, p. 222). This approach, however, limits findings to categorising the readings as dominant, negotiated, or oppositional, and provides little space to explain the different denotative meanings that may emerge during reception (Schrøder et al., 2003, p. 236).

Liebes & Katz‘s (1990) ―critical/referential‖ reading allows more space to understand contradicting responses among audiences, as it does not categorise the audiences within the dichotomy of passive and active viewers.15 The ―critical/referential‖ model distinguishes between ideological awareness and personal engagement towards the media text respectively. The former involves ―the highlighting of the constructed nature of the text and expressing the awareness of its ideological content‖ (Müller & Hermes, 2010, p. 197), while the latter consists of personal engagement with the media text by positioning it within their own non-mediated, personal cultural experience. Bird summarises that ―We cannot really isolate the role of media in culture, because the media are firmly anchored into the web of culture, although articulated by individuals in different ways ... The ‗audience‘ is everywhere and nowhere‖ (2003, pp. 2-3). Regardless of their difference, both Hall‘s (1980) and Liebes and Katz‘s (1990) findings relocate power from the monopoly of media producers.

Despite such developments in the body of media research, media political economy and constructivist approaches are most popular in Indonesian media research. The reason for the popularity is mainly related to the context of the development of Indonesia‘s media landscape.16 For three decades, New Order development was centralistic. Infrastructure

15 If one considered Eco‘s (1979) idea of text and open and closed, then a viewer may be active and passive simultaneously responding to different ideological contents in the same text. 16 The most prominent Indonesian research on media focuses on media political economy (Dhakidae, 1991; Siregar, 2002; Sudibyo, 2004), which, although it tries to reveal structural issues that marginalise locality, does not address centralistic notions it attempts to criticise through its own choice of research subject. For instance, Armando (2011) criticised the centralistic system of Indonesia‘s television industry and regulation, but paradoxically does not analyse local cases. 10 development and economic investment was centred in Java and, consequently, all large media corporations are based in Java. The dominance of the Javanese in Indonesian history, which existed long before the country‘s independence (Anderson, 2007), was only made worse by Suharto elevating Javanese culture as the most prominent element of the national culture project.

During the New Order, televised images received in non-Javanese areas were those transmitted from Java, which were overwhelmingly drawn from Javanese culture. Any other cultural representation, particularly those originating from the Eastern part of Indonesia, were either largely ignored or Orientalised (Said, 1979).17 An example of a ―Javanese/national‖ television show that was aired throughout the country during that period is Ria Jenaka. Although the show was used by the state to promote government policies to a national audience, Ria Jenaka portrays characters with Javanese names such as Petruk, Semar, Garong, and Bagong who were also dressed in Javanese traditional theatre costumes.

An Indonesian Internet blog discussing Ria Jenaka claims that ―We had to like it because we had no other choice‖ (Tidak ada pilihan lain; Rakhmani, 2007, p. 26). This statement suggests that although the culture projected through Ria Jenaka is exclusively Javanese, people elsewhere in Indonesia had no other access to televised information and entertainment, so there was no other alternative. This illustration raises a question about the ways that particular elements of Indonesian culture come to stand for Indonesia as a whole. Despite the fundamental crystallisation of Indonesia‘s respect towards plurality in its slogan, it is questionable whether the nation‘s administration reflected this is practice. One of Indonesia‘s prominent thinkers, the late Nurcholis Madjid, criticised the nation-building strategies of the New Order:

The practice of homogenisation or equalisation conducted by the New Order administration for the past 30 years has inattentively denied Indonesian identity as a pluralistic nation. The standardisation of culture which established the term ―national culture‖ and the implementation of a standard government system by disregarding informal leaders are real examples of how Indonesia has denied the principle of Bhinneka Tunggal ika (―Homogenisasi Ingkar Jati Diri‖, 2000).

17 To borrow Wallerstein‘s (2011) core-periphery theory, in Indonesian national culture, Javanese culture may constitute as the ―core‖. While ―semi-periphery‖ ethnic cultures (e.g. Minangkabau, Bataknese, Minahasa) may challenge the core culture but with uneven power, while ―periphery‖ cultures (e.g. Asmat, Atoni Meto, and Dawan) would have the least power in challenging the ―core‖.

This ―homogenisation‖ of culture is embedded in a structure of power that privileged Javanese culture, with Java as the seat of cultural and economic power in Indonesia. This is a structured and systematic process that feeds into an existing hierarchy of power. Political economy theory is relevant to an understanding of Indonesia‘s media landscape for several reasons (Primasanti, 2010; Armando, 2011; Sudibyo, 2004). First, media centralisation in Jakarta is increasing, with more ownership concentrated in fewer hands, particularly in the television industry. Second, there is a growing trend of media cross ownership with other industries, converging between media types (e.g. Media Indonesia group) and/or between media and other business sectors (e.g. Para Group). Third, the public‘s power over determining content, particularly in the interest of a civil society, is undermined by corporate interest (Siregar, 2002; Gazali et al., 2004). In a media environment such as Indonesia‘s, the approach of political economy is useful in identifying the different forms of control–and the factors that facilitate or challenge that control–exercised by media ownership over content and audience.

Armando expressed his concern about media centralisation through the case of the 2002 Broadcasting Law that mandates the implementation of a Network Television System (2011, p. 178). According to Armando, the Network Television System would potentially end the media centralisation model in Indonesia, ensuring that every province has its own television station. Firstly, this regulation would even the advertising pie to local television stations. Secondly, it also allows local areas to express local culture and religious beliefs through televised representation. However, the failure to implement the law, seven years after its legalisation, suggests that industry pressure is attempting to maintain the status quo. The purpose in legislating for a Network Television System was not solely to ensure that each province has its own local station, but to end the dominance of Jakarta-based television stations across all provinces. Under this centralised system all profit goes to Jakarta, leaving little or no chance for each province to establish its own television system to facilitate local needs (Armando, 2011, p. 43).

Armando‘s (2011) arguments reposition the dominance over this imagined national space from Javanese culture to Jakarta culture. In the case of the country‘s centralistic television system, owned and controlled by very few, there has been a shift from mainstreaming of Javanese culture through a state-controlled media system to

12 mainstreaming Jakarta culture through a commercial media system controlled by an oligopoly (Nugroho et al., 2012, Haryanto, 2011). Although images that were once prohibited during the New Order are now more emancipated, these depictions are no less centralised or homogenous as they respond to the industry‘s imagination of its market. Television programmes must be profitable, as the system is fully dependant on advertising. Therefore programmes must maximise audiences –consequently projecting images that appeal to its target Jakarta, Muslim audience. The ideological context of Indonesia‘s current television system can be summarised by Robison and Hadiz‘s arguments on the reorganisation of power relations after Suharto:

What is taking place in Indonesia, we have argued, is the reorganisation of the power relations incubated within the Soeharto regime, rather than their fundamental transformation. The disorganisation of civil society, the co-option of Indonesia‘s capitalist and middle classes into a system of predatory politics, and the violent destruction of working class politics, have prohibited the emergence of coherent liberal and social democratic coalitions and forces from the ashes of centralised authoritarian rule. But some disagree with these rather gloomy predictions. They argue that democracy itself, however flawed, will provide the institutional opportunities for progressive politics, and that the inexorable discipline of global markets will ultimately force economic life in Indonesia into the constraints of regulatory capitalism (2004, p. 253).

Although with less apparent state control and interest compared to the New Order‘s televised national culture project, the commercial television industry continues the convention to project the culture of the majority. One of the consequences to the current centralised television system can be illustrated by the broadcasting of the daily adzan or call to prayer. Every day, at approximately 6:00 pm Jakarta time, all national television stations in Indonesia air the call to Maghrib (sunset) prayers for Muslim audiences.

The illustration of the adzan is significant for several reasons. Firstly, due to its commercial nature, the television industry in Indonesia tries to attract the largest audience (both in numbers and in buying power): those who are Muslim and Jakartan. Secondly, while the adzan is aired at Jakarta time, the stations mention in subtitles the time of prayer in other areas. Under a ―core-periphery‖ logic (Wallerstein, 2011), these cities are usually the larger cities that are also the larger audience share. Thirdly, and most importantly, this daily representation of Islamic rituals is aired to an otherwise plural audience of non-Jakartans and non-Muslims. This last reason raises the question

13 of how Islamic cultural practices are mainstreamed into national culture and how this rearticulates the notion of national identity through commercial television.

Locating Islam Indonesiawi in Popular Media

Scholars studying Islam in Indonesia have noted the particular policies adopted by each reigning administration to negotiate Islam into the national identity (Liddle, 1996; Hefner, 1997; Hefner, 2000; Azra, 2006). Regardless of the distinctive state ideology adopted by each regime, from Independence to the Reform period, Islam had been regarded as significant by all governments for several reasons (Hefner, 1997; Effendy, 2003). First, it has the most followers of any religion in Indonesia. Secondly, Indonesia has the largest Muslim population of any country in the world and yet is a secular state that does not implement Islamic law–positioning the country uniquely in international politics. Thirdly, the practice of Islam in Indonesia is not homogenous, differing substantially from practice in Middle Eastern countries, and at the same time political organisations aligning themselves with Islamic teachings are well-organised, generally in control of their mass following, and relatively peaceful.

Although comprising nearly 90 percent of the 240 million Indonesians, Indonesian Muslims are heterogeneous. Much research on Indonesia‘s Islam cite the classic work of Geertz (1976) who divides Javanese Islam into abangan (syncretists), santri (devout and practicing), and priyayi (nobility). This division has been further developed since in more particular ways (Ricklefs, 1976; Geertz; 1976; Roff; 1985; van Bruinessen, 1999), but they generally agree with the basic categories. More recent Indonesian Muslim scholars (Baswedan, 2004; Mujani, 2007), concentrate on the santri in unique ways that positioned them as ―political participants‖ (i.e. the inclusion of formal political groups and organisations). Baswedan (2004), for instance, defines santri as devout/practicing Muslims and abangan as nominal/non-practicing. He further categorises the former as modernists (implying Muhammadiyah) and the latter into traditionalists (implying NU— Nahdlatul Ulama).18

Islamic scholarship in Indonesia today is dominated by the discourse of traditionalist and modernist Islamic politics, and often looks at the diversity within the scope of

18 These are the two largest Muslim organisations in Indonesia, which have their own school of thought, structure, and practices and are often at peaceful odds with each other. I also criticise Baswedan‘s (2004) definition of ―practicing‖ and ―devout‖ as self-limiting. 14 modern socio-economic practice and nationalism (Maarif, 2001; Assyaukanie, 2009; Azra, Afrianty & Hefner, 2010; Mujani, 2004).19 Consequently, commercial media that have nationwide scope, or national media, mainstreams the santri as the dominant group in the current nationalist-Islamic discourse.20 This raises the question: ―In the current santri-dominated discourse of Indonesia‘s Islam in national politics, how then do Islamic politics and practices manifest through commercial, national culture?‖21

The Islam in Indonesia represented in the film speaks of the Islam of Indonesia (Indonesiawi), that acknowledges social and economical disparity, pluralism where ―in the middle of all its commonness‖ (kewajaran), the Islamic world in that tiny corner of Indonesia appears relaxed, coexisting peacefully with a poster of Rhoma Irama22 that covers a hole in the wall, a mysterious shaman and an alligator tamer, other ethnicities and religions, as the Malayan and jazz music coexist peacefully on Mahar‘s radio (―Laskar Pelangi‖, 2008).

The excerpt is important for several reasons. Firstly, it implicitly proposes a challenge towards ―mainstream Islam‖ by repositioning a national culture that includes the notion of class, including the particular (―that tiny corner of Indonesia‖), popular culture (poster of Rhoma Irama, Malayan, and jazz music), and pluralism (ethnicities, religion). These sub-national identities are framed in the middle of ―commonness‖. The last statement is important because it questions the authenticity of what is often perceived as the dominant national culture.

With this last statement in mind, how much do television ratings, for instance, reflect the particular identities of Indonesia‘s diverse audience? With the increased volume of Islamic themes in Indonesia‘s television content,23 made possible under the current

19 There is a historical context to this dominance. Although Islamist militants exist and disturb mainstream Islam, Muslim nationalists have undermined the notion of ―pan-Islamic polity‖ since Independence (Liddle, 1996). The majority of Indonesian Muslims have succumbed to the idea of the Indonesian national as imagined by the political and Muslim elites. 20 I would like hereon to refer to this dominant view as Indonesian ―mainstream Islam‖ to embrace the commonality between the particular streams within that group. 21 Popular culture is a significant notion to reconsider in this matter. Although it is seen within the Frankfurt School paradigm as the ―dumbing down‖ of cultural artefacts for monetary gain (Marcuse, 1969; Adorno & Horkheimer, 1977), this elitist view has been challenged by the Birmingham School audience research tradition which argues that audience are not passive objects accepting dominant symbolic representation that is ―mass culture‖ (Hall, 1980; Morley, 1980; Ang, 1985; Drotner, 1989). Thus, popular culture is seen a site for contestation and struggle between competing ideologies that is a process of shaping an informal consensus. 22 Rhoma Irama is a successful dangdut (populist, ―Indonesian‖ music genre) musician who promoted musical, Islamic evangelism and help popularise the genre into the national discourse through political campaigns (Sen & Hill, 2000). 23 I elaborate further on the increase of Islamic themes in television in Chapter Two. 15 commercial system, is Islam really mainstreamed into national culture or is it imagined by the industry as a national culture?

Taking into consideration the dominance of Jakarta and Islamic culture above other sub- national identities because of the current television system‘s core-periphery logic, this thesis takes a closer look at how heterogeneous viewers throughout the nation interpret televised mainstream Islam. Studies on ethnic, cultural, religious and national identity and the media have revealed how audiences make out different meanings of the same text according to the identities they wish to seek or protect (Liebes & Katz, 1990; Gillespie, 1990). The promise of idiosyncratic interpretations from the moment of construction to reception urges the question of whether Islamic culture is really a characteristic imposed on the viewers, or if negotiations between sub-national identities can reveal new conceptions on Indonesian identity today. In particular, this thesis looks at the informal consensus behind the mainstreaming of Islam into national culture through television practices.

Theory and Trajectory

Couldry (2004) summarised the contemporary landscape of media studies in five distinct currents of work. The first is the US-influenced mass communications research that is largely classical and positivistic. The second is critical Marxist commentary which, although also speaking largely about the debates regarding mass culture, departs from the critique towards capitalism–which in turn developed into the media political economy tradition. The third is semiotic analysis that was influenced by European structuralism and post-structuralism, that largely speaks of media texts. The fourth is related to media audiences that emerged in close association with semiotics and Marxism, but later developed into a broader empirical tradition. The fifth, and the most recent, is ―the line of anthropological research into media that has emerged out of postmodern versions of symbolic anthropology‖ (Couldry, 2004, p. 116).

Media studies in the Indonesian context, however, have less distinctive currents of work (Ida, 2006; Hidayat, 1999; Haryanto, 2001). The classical, positivistic paradigm is still largely implemented in universities, which ―had been worsened by the lack of knowledge of the university lecturers, thesis supervisors and the examiners, on other research paradigms than the classical ones‖ (Hidayat, 1999, in Ida, 2006, p. 28). The US

16 body of research largely influenced the first wave in media studies in Indonesia, as most of the founders of communication science had been US graduates (Ida, 2006; Haryanto, 2001). This positivistic approach worked under the large framework of developmentalism. Not unlike the shift from state ideology to commercial interest in Indonesia‘s television system, the bodies of research in Indonesian universities retained their positivistic assumptions but now work under the large framework of the commercial media system.24

Dedy Nur Hidayat25 introduced critical approaches towards studying media noted by the establishment of the media studies programme under the Department of Communication, Universitas Indonesia (UI) in 2005. Instead of shifting from one dominant paradigm to the other, critical media studies research coexisted alongside positivistic researches.26 In the context of the Indonesian television industry, theses have tended to depart from media political economy and media audience. I would like to address the polarisation between these two poles by Couldry‘s (2004) media as practice theorisation.

Couldry proposes to put behind the disputes of the past, the disagreements between the primary focuses of each paradigm (2004, p. 116). The aim is ―to help clarify where might lie the epicentre of new research questions, if [as I would argue] this no longer lies directly above the media text or the media‘s production economy. The proposed new paradigm is disarmingly simple: it treats the media as the open set of practices relating to, or oriented around, media‖. Couldry cites the sociology of practice as a way to ―overcome old theoretical division between structure and agency‖ (2004, pp. 120- 121).

The value of practice theory, as we have seen, is to ask open questions about what people are doing and how they categorise what they are doing, avoiding the disciplinary or other preconceptions that would automatically read their actions as, say, ―consumption‖ or ―being-an-audience‖, whether or not that is how the actors see their actions. One possibility we need to be ready for—anticipated in

24 Laku di pasar or ―sells to the market‖ or the industries of communications, media and information (Hidayat 1999 in Ida, 2006, p. 28). 25 The late Dedy Nur Hidayat was a senior lecturer at the Department of Communications, UI. He was one of the most prolific scholars who introduced political economy and media economics to the department‘s initial developmentalist (which in the past two decades shifted to capitalistic) body of research and curriculum. 26 I would like to note the behaviour of students in UI‘s Department of Communication. Students in the media studies programme are seen to be more academically inclined, and are predominantly anak daerah or anak rantau (from the regions), with Jakarta students as a minority. 17

the earlier quotation from Ien Ang (1996, 70)—is that, in many cases, ―media consumption‖ or ―audiencing‖ can only be understood as part of a practice that is not itself ―about‖ media: what practice this is depends on who we are describing and when (Couldry, 2004, p. 125).

Hall (1980, 1982) and Corner (1983) have offered some explanations that addressed the limitations of media political economy that assumes power is held by the producers, the textual determinism of semiotic analysis, and the over-optimism towards the audience‘s autonomy. Hall refers to these contrasting assumptions and breaks them down into various phases in his ―encoding/decoding‖ model as moments that are ―linked but distinctive‖ separated into ―production, circulation, distribution/consumption, reproduction‖ (1980, p. 128). Hall‘s model is centred greatly on whether or not the decoders share the common codes and social positions offered by the encoder‘s intended meaning, while I argue that other codes and positions not offered by the text can also surface in this process. There is one aspect that Couldry‘s (2004) media as practice has not mentioned that is not addressed either by Hall‘s (1980) ―encoding/decoding‖ model: engagement. That is why Liebes & Katz‘s (1990) ―critical/referential‖ model to me makes more sense to be applied here because firstly it allows the audience to disengage from the text and respond to it in a detached way and to include other social practices through critical reading.

Corner (1983) has offered his own definitions of ―communication as moments‖, mainly by criticising and extending Hall‘s (1980) model. But his idea is centred on textual meaning that binds message delivery, while I intend to focus on the ―anchoring‖ of culture into television practice (Swidler, 2001). This television practice, that mainstreams Islam, ―anchors other practices, producing a hierarchy of practices and also contributing to the ―structure‖ within which those other practices occur and take their meaning‖ (Couldry, 2004, p. 127). In this thesis, like Couldry (2004), I move past the disputes between, firstly, media political economy that focuses ―primarily on the relation between the economic structure and dynamics of media industries and the ideological content of media‖ (McQuail, 2005, p. 99), and the polysemic interpretation revealed through audience research (that are often too particular to be used outside of its direct context). Secondly, I move beyond the disputes between audience reading and textual analysis in determining the owner of meaning.

Instead of a long philosophical argument on which comes before which, I instead propose to follow the evidence by understanding the media political economic factors that underlie their manifestation. I furthermore take steps to explore the subject matter in this thesis in the following two independent yet interrelating sub-studies. These two sub-studies loosely follow Giddens‘ (1984) ―structuration and agency‖ that showed how social order is produced and reproduced at a level of practice. I would like to address the criticism towards the theory‘s ―duality of structure‖27 through Couldry‘s understanding of Schatzki‘s (1999) practice theory that insists ―social life can exhibit [ordered] features only if it is a totality‖ (2004, p. 124).28

Scope of Study

I use the categorisation of ―structuration and agency‖ as a step to clarify firstly the media economic features of television practice (structure), and take another step to understand how these practices anchor everyday practices of individuals (agency). It is not the duality of television structure and audience agency that I try to separate, although it may seem so, but how the wholeness of these two seemingly separate processes shows features that contribute to the mainstreaming of Islam or show ―linkages between signifying practices and social and political discourse‖ (Kitley, 2000, p. 12). In this thesis I investigate how agency operates within the industry structure (Verstraeten, 1996) and how structure may exist in the minds of individuals (Anderson, 1983; 1999). I try to understand this as a totality by understanding the tension between commercial interest and Islamic ideologies in mainstream Islam and how it may relate to Indonesian identity.

In order to do so, I use Corner‘s (1983) ―moments of comumunication‖. In the first part of the thesis, I firstly examine television industry structuration through ―moment of construction‖ or the ―institutional practices and organizational conditions and practices of production‖ (Corner, 1983, p. 266). Secondly, I examine the ―moment of the text‖ or the ―symbolic construction, arrangement and perhaps performance [that is apparent in

27 Archer (2003) objected to the inseparability of structure and agency in structuration theory. She proposed a notion of dualism rather than "duality of structure". She primarily examined structural frameworks and the action within the limits allowed by those conditions that is comparable to Williams‘ (1981) understanding of how the material limits cultural expression. 28 The study of socio-cultural practice around the media is popularly studied with Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA), most notably in Fairclough‘s (1995) work. I find the basic assumption of CDA, that stems from linguistics, follows such a tidy structure that it allows little space to ―follow the evidence‖ that Couldry‘s (2004) media as practice allows. 19 the] form and content of what is published or broadcast‖ (Corner, 1983, p. 267). In the second part, I examine the agency of television audience through the ―moment of reading‖ or the audience‘s moment of interpretation. Thus, the approach to each part answers the following central questions:

1. How is Islam mainstreamed through the moment of construction and the moment of text? 2. How is mainstream Islam meaningful to the audience in their moment of reading?

I limit the scope of this thesis to locally produced television drama or soap opera (sinetron) and the most-watched television format (Nugroho et al., 2012; Ida, 2006).29 The audience spends an average of 26 percent of their viewing time on the sinetron, which is the highest among all programme types (Nugroho et al., 2012, p. 52). Although Islamic themes in television programmes can be traced back to the 1960s,30 portraying Islamic practices in an everyday life context easily relatable to the television stations‘ target market is most profound in Islamic-themed sinetron or sinetron religi (religious drama). The first sinetron religi, Rahasia Ilahi (God‘s Secret), was televised in 2003 (Subijanto, 2011, p. 243). Unsurprisingly, although this format was popularly dubbed sinetron religi not sinetron Islam, Islam is the only religion portrayed in the several hundred sinetron religi titles produced to date because it has largely been commercially successful to do so.31 Looking at the sinetron religi industry is useful to understand the industry structuration of mainstream Islam in television practice.

Methods

In the first part of the thesis, I study the construction of the text and the meaning within the text. Firstly, in the construction of the text, I examine the institutional practice, organisational condition, and production process of selected sinetron religi. Secondly, in the analysis of text (selected sinetron religi), I study the symbolic construction,

29 Sinetron is a portmanteau of sinema (cinema) and elektronik (electronic). The term sinetron is generally used to indicate soap opera-style primetime Indonesian television (Barkin, 2004, p. 56). I explain further about the media economy and production of sinetron in Chapter Three and Four. 30 I explain this in Chapter Two where I trace Islamic themes in Indonesian television (1962 to 2010). 31 Buku Harian Nayla is the only known successful Christian sinetron religi, whose main character did not reveal her religious views until the final episode to avoid the risk of losing its existing Muslim audience (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011). 20 arrangement, and performance that are apparent in their content. In the second part of the research, I look at audience interpretation by studying how they reproduce meaning out of the selected sinetron religi.

Previous research has mentioned the commodification of Islam in Indonesian television (Barkin, 2004; Hasan, 2009; Subijanto, 2011). They have not, however, explained the complexities of its interpretation. These research have also yet to reveal the complexities of ―the strained relation between structural determination and practical autonomy‖ (Verstraeten, 1996, pp. 360-361).

The commodification of Islam has also been a topic of public debate in the past seven years (Azra, 2005 & Sasono, 2008 in Subijanto, 2011), which resulted in ―gory representations of Islam‖ and ―misleading teachings of Islam‖ (―Budaya Pop Islam‖, 2008). Prominent director, producer, and actor Deddy Mizwar reacted to these commodifications by producing his own sinetron religi that portrays everyday Islam in a comedic setting that he often mentions as dakwah (Islamic propagation). As business logic dictates, television stations duplicated these commercially successful sinetron religi. The success of Rahasia Ilahi began a trend in producing supernatural sinetron religi. The success of the Islamic film Ayat-ayat Cinta (Verses of Love) began a trend in producing melodramatic sinetron religi. And Mizwar‘s commercially Kiamat Sudah Dekat (The End is Nigh) also began a trend of religious comedy. What distinguished Mizwar‘s sinetron religi from the first two trends is that it had began production to propagate Islam instead of trying to sell a cultural product. Thus, Mizwar‘s is the alternative sinetron religi.

Therefore, the first step taken as part of data collection in this thesis is to study the sinetron religi produced since Rahasia Ilahi (2003) to the present (2010). I extend Subijanto‘s (2011) reference to the main themes in sinetron religi and complete it with Darmawan‘s (2008) by identifying three clusters of sinetron religi: supernatural, melodramatic, and alternative sinetron religi.32 I select one sinetron religi title that is most representative of the common characteristics of each cluster, respectively Hidayah (God‘s Guidance), Munajah Cinta (Surrender to Love), and Para Pencari Tuhan (God‘s Seekers).

32 I elaborate in detail upon the characteristics of each cluster in Chapter Four. 21

Firstly, I approach the production houses of these sinetron religi, MD Entertainment (MD), SinemArt, and Citra Sinema. Through secondary data available in print and online media, and primary data collected through interviewing television station official, sinetron religi producers, directors, scriptwriters, camerapersons involved in the ―moment of construction‖. Although case studies are used (individual sinetron religi), the project also focuses on the interests, constraints and practices that guide the creation of sinetron religi, These include internal contests, contradictions and alliances made to influence how each actor projects Islam within media organisation. Secondly, to understand ―the moment of text‖, I conduct textual analysis (Burns & Thompson, 1989). This analysis loosely follows the basic assumptions of Barthes‘ (1976) semiotics of all of the sinetron religi episodes available to me.33

Thirdly, to understand the ―moment of reading‖, I choose one clip from each select sinetron religi to show to young audiences throughout the country.34 There are several reasons why I chose young audiences. Firstly, audience research on soap operas emerged under a feminist agenda (Ang, 1985; Modleski, 1982). As audience research developed into a research tradition, soap opera audience research has been somewhat dominated by women as audience. Thus, I‘d like to step away from the feminist discourse and conduct soap opera audience research on the young audience that includes both genders.

Next, I choose to focus on young audience in the light of Anderson‘s (1999) statement that Indonesian-ness has a strong social basis on youth. With recent urban, middle-class youth movements emerging, it is becoming increasingly important to revisit this notion.35 Lastly, out of the 10 cities monitored by AGB Nielsen Media Research (Nielsen), the country‘s only audience measurement body, I select four cities of four different islands.36 These cities are Jakarta (Java), Banjarmasin (Kalimantan), Makassar

33 I chose Barthes‘ (1976) semiotics, aside from it being a classic work in textual analysis, as his approach takes into account the notion of class that is essential in commercial television audience market. This approach also elevates the text into the level of myth, particularly useful in understanding the representations of Islamic identity and class, particularly when speaking of divine intervention in plots. 34 The selected clips are mentioned in Chapter Six and I explain these three clips in detail in Chapter Five. 35 An example is Indonesian Young Changemaker Summit that pledged Sumpah Pemuda Jilid 2.0 (Youth Pledge Version 2.0, referring to Web 2.0 with ―newer‖ technological features) that involved public figure Anies Baswedan (―Ratusan Pemuda Berikrar‖, 2012). The idea of youth culture that is centred on how the young leave behind their parent culture (New Order) proves useful in this thesis. 36 Nielsen‘s audience measurement panel currently measures 2,423 TV households over 10 major cities (Greater Jakarta, Greater Surabaya, Bandung, Semarang, Medan, Makassar, Greater Yogyakarta, Palembang, Denpasar, and Banjarmasin). This main panel measures only terrestrial or free-to-air television stations. Because of the changes in mergers and acquisitions, Nielsen is sometimes mentioned 22

(Sulawesi), and Denpasar (Bali). I deliberately select these cities to spread out the focus from Java, as academic literature on the television industry in Indonesia has been centred on infrastructure, which inevitably focuses on Jakarta in particular and Java in general. However, these selected cities still represent the dominant taste or view that constructs a televised national culture. Audience interpretation in these targeted Nielsen cities does not touch upon the issues of how non-targeted audience respond to the same programmes. Would their local identities contest the dominant view constructed by ―Jakarta‖ television? Therefore, I select two more cities, namely Banda Aceh (Sumatera) and Jayapura (Papua) for comparison. After showing the clips to the select young audience, I conduct unstructured group discussions and personal interviews.

I select unstructured group discussion for several reasons. Firstly, an informal interview that is not set by a standard list of questions allows the researcher to deal with topics of interest of their respondents and improves authenticity (Nichols, 1991, p. 131). Secondly, it curbs researcher and respondent bias, as each participant would moderate and challenge each other‘s statements, and a topic ends when the group reaches a consensus (Molokken & Jorgensen, 2003). Thirdly, this allows seeing the discussion as ―performances in which the participants jointly produce accounts about proposed topics in a socially organised situation‖ (Smithson, 2000, p. 105). Although ethnographically inspired, group discussions can be both about ―performances‖ (lying) and authentic responses. Lastly, group discussions provide opportunity for interaction that is not limited to interviewer and interviewee, but also interviewees that allow contestation (Schrøder et al., 2003; Liebes & Katz, 1990).

As I deal with Islam in relation to nationalism, I select state high schools (Sekolah Menengah Atas Negeri/SMAN) as an institution that actively constructs national identity in its members through, among others, standard national curriculum, uniforms, weekly flag ceremonies, and scout troops (Pramuka).37 In comparison to private schools, state high schools are arguably less segregated.38 State schools can also be seen

merely as Nielsen or AGB Nielsen Media Research or Nielsen Audience Measurement in different literature but this essentially refers to the same company. To avoid confusion, I consistently call the company Nielsen in this thesis. I also refer to the cities monitored by Nielsen as ‗Nielsen cities‘ and those not monitored as ‗non-Nielsen‘ cities for efficiency. 37 I also select state schools vis-à-vis Althusser‘s (1971) notion of Ideological State Apparatuses in which the media and education system are central. 38 Private schools are usually segregated based on religion (i.e. Islamic school, Protestant school, etc), global educational curriculum and social class (i.e. National Plus schools, international schools, etc), area 23 as ―a miniature of Indonesia‖ in that they allow a social interaction between members with different ethnicity, religion, gender, and socio-economic class (―Belajar Agama‖, 2011). Although this is a broad and vague statement, students of state schools are indeed more exposed to difference and this is less likely to happen in homogenous schools, particularly religious ones like pesantren.

With this consideration, I chose high-reputation (unggulan) state high schools, selected based on the Ministry of National Education‘s (Mendiknas) grading and verified through personal interviews with local state university staff, as the site of research. The choice of high-reputation state high schools not only allowed the selection of students who are presumably apt and used to speaking about complex issues that are related to this research, but also the school‘s administrative efficiency compared to schools in remote areas. This is important considering I visit multiple schools as part of this research.39 I subsequently spent approximately one week in each school.40

Six students, comprising three male and three female with an ethnic and religious background representative of the school‘s population, were selected by the appointed staff representative of the school to participate in the group discussions. One of the disadvantages of group discussions is that the more vocal interviewees may silence the quieter ones. Although many scholars see this as exemplary of social reality in which more dominant groups silence minorities (Schrøder, 2003; Liebes & Katz, 1990), I conducted personal interviews to explore further the participants‘ identity for a better understanding of their participation in group discussion. I also interviewed the staff representative of the school to provide baseline data, which includes, among others, social demography, student interaction, and school history.

As part of the group discussion, I show the three clips mentioned and conduct the discussions after. After transcribing and coding scenes in the audio-visual footages of discussions and interview, I analyse the data collected based on how the participants

and social class (i.e. the students of Islamic school of Al Azhar in South Jakarta in average come from higher income families compared to Al Azhar in Kemandoran, South Jakarta). 39 As a researcher, I am fully aware that by selecting such students my findings will be of the educational ―elite‖ in each area. However, even since before independence, Indonesia‘s notion and practice of Islam in relation to nationalism has been a limited discourse. I do, however, attempt to include Banda Aceh and Jayapura to address this. 40 I do not reveal any pictures and personal data of the participants and the names of the schools in accord with Murdoch University‘s policy on researching human participants. The names of students mentioned in this paper are pseudonyms to protect the identity of the young participants. 24 responded towards the clips which showed patterns of interpretation guided loosely by Liebes & Katz (1990) ―critical/referential‖ reading. Like Müller and Hermes, I do not treat these modes of reception as a category of reading styles and further group the responses into the two reading modes Hermes (2010, p. 198). The participants are not groups based on how they respond to the clips. Instead, I focus on how they ―construct multiple and possibly contradictory interpretation of the same media text [and to] and to develop and understanding of how different types of contingent engagement with a media text as expressed through these different reading styles‖ (Müller & Hermes, 2010, p. 198). Because I deal with multiple schools in multiple cities, this part of the thesis attempts to explain how the participants‘ responses are common or different to each other and why.

Thesis Map

This thesis is divided into two main sub-studies. The first is industry structuration and the second is viewer agency. Chapter One is the first out of nine chapters and it is the thesis‘ introduction. Chapter Two traces how Islam has been positioned in relation to popular, national culture under the various policies of the governments since Indonesia‘s Independence in 1945. It includes dominant ideologies, political and economic trends, changes in ownership, the mapping out of programme formats, and how they link with social and cultural discourses in each period. Chapter Two sets forth the idea that it is the process of introducing Islam to the market or television marketing or commercialisation, which includes advertisers, ratings, audience share (Mosco, 2009). As a consequence of the negotiation between rising Islamic influences in Indonesia and television commercialisation, Islamic culture is mainstreamed into television content.

In Chapter Three, I focus on the sinetron and provide an overview of the public debates and industry transformations from the early 2000s. The main transformation elaborated is how the proliferation of sinetron religi and competition over the audience have constructed clusters of sinetron religi that speak to a specific audience class. Chapter Four reveals that Islamic ideology is the vehicle through which dakwah agency is exercised to counter Islamic trivialisation that is a consequence of commodification. I explored this by examining the production process of these sinetron religi in order to

25 understand how organisations, media routines, and individual agency play a part in producing piety. In Chapter Five I analyse how the tension between commercial interest and Islamic ideologies surface through the text. This chapter reveals that within each sinetron religi studied, there are ideological subordinations or ―the politics of piety‖ (Mahmood, 2007).

Chapter Six examines how sinetron religi, which were designed by producers to speak to a Nielsen audience, are interpreted by young Indonesians in Jakarta, Denpasar, Banjarmasin, and Makassar. This chapter reveals how sinetron religi trigger discussions on religious modernisation, contestations between religious and gendered identities, and the ―normalisation of difference‖ between individuals of different religious beliefs. I place these findings within the notion of nationalism; as the audience‘s explanation of their interpretation is bound by religion and ethnicity as ―sub-national identities‖ (Anderson, 1999).

Chapter Seven extends the discussion of the significance of audience interpretation by studying non-Nielsen audiences. For the audiences in Banda Aceh and Jayapura, sinetron religi triggered discussions on economic disparities between Jakarta/us or central/local. In Banda Aceh, the audience rearticulated the sinetron religi within their own modern, Acehnese Islamic practices, and in Jayapura they filtered the sinetron with their own Christian identity. Different discussions were generated by different sinetron. In both Chapters Six and Seven, I conclude with a analysis of what the interpretation of young Indonesians towards sinetron religi indicates a resistance towards Javanese and Jakarta dominance over their sense of nationhood.

In Chapter Eight, I elaborate on the differences and commonalities between Nielsen and non-Nielsen young audience. This chapter argues that nationalism is a notion that tames the tension between the centrality of Indonesia‘s television structure led by industry logic and the dominance of Islamic culture as a result of commercialisation (Baudrillard, 1998). Islam is repositioned as ―sub-nation‖ (Anderson, 1999), and television is positioned as a ―stage‖. Thus, television should allow the expression of the ―politics of difference‖ (Gupta & Ferguson, 1992; Ang, 2003). The difference between Nielsen and non-Nielsen audience is that the latter is more aware of the ―core- periphery‖ power relation (Wallerstein, 2011). This relation links with economy and

26 cultural dominance that is also reflected in the television industry because their social reality, particularly separatist movements, reveals this to them.

The thesis concludes with Chapter Nine in which I theorise my findings, and extend the framework I have established in this opening chapter. In summary, this thesis reveals that commercialisation both limits Islamic-cultural expressions and liberates Islamic culture into commercial television content. The former is related to the commodification of Islam and the latter is revealed in the case of dakwah agency guided by Islamic ideology. This finding exposes the tension between commercial interest and Islamic ideologies. This tension has revealed the significance of Indonesian nationalism as a notion that repositions Islam as a ―sub-nation‖ (Anderson, 1983), and not a dominant culture.

27 CHAPTER TWO

THE MAINSTREAMING OF ISLAM INTO NATIONAL CULTURE

This chapter outlines the main political and economic changes in Indonesia after its independence, particularly those influencing information content and distribution. Thus, it describes the main ownership patterns, media content, and programming trends related to Islam. These changes impinged on how Islam is manifested through the media.

The chapter has four main parts that are sourced from Nielsen ratings, newspaper clippings, the Sinematek Indonesia1 film and television database, interviews of experts and media professionals, and literature reviews. The first part briefly explains the advent of Indonesia’s first state-owned television station TVRI in 1962. It mainly describes the conceptualisation of TVRI under the Guided Democracy (Demokrasi Terpimpin) period (1962 to 1965). The second part looks at how TVRI’s programming strategy placed Islamic content during Indonesia’s single state television system (1965 to 1989). This strategy is significantly related to the New Order national integration programme which can be seen in TVRI’s then slogan ―TVRI weaves together our unity and the union‖ (menjalin persatuan dan kesatuan; Sen & Hill, 2000, p. 108). The third part discusses how commercial television stations represent Islam under authoritarian rule (1989 to 1998). This section describes how commercial television stations began to reach out to the large Muslim audience while at the same time producing ―the least objectionable programme‖ (Klein & Morgensen, 1979; Cantor, 1971) or ―deep risk aversion‖ (Barkin, 2004, p. 5). The fourth part elaborates on the proliferation of Islamic themes in various programme formats after the authoritarian rule (1998 to 2010). In this part, I examine how competition between television stations has resulted in the commodification of Islam that occurs as a consequence of television commercialisation.

Indonesia’s television system today is best described as a conglomerate television industry, in which ―large corporations, particularly those old players of major business corporations who gained privilege from the New Order regime, still dominate the national private television business‖ (Ida, 2006, p. 40). After studying the vast array of

1 Sinematek Indonesia or the Usmar Ismail Film Centre is a non-profit institution that houses data, documentation, and information on Indonesia’s film landscape. 28 television programmes produced in the past forty years, it is apparent that Islam has not only become a recurrent theme, but has also been married with various secular formats that are influenced by US television programmes, Bollywood, Latin America telenovela, Japanese dorama and South Korean drama (k-drama). In the context of Indonesia’s television industry today, particularly when speaking of entertainment programmes, the issue might seem more about the commercial forces that permitted Islam to become so dominant compared to other religious representations than it is about pressures from fundamentalists attempting to ―Islamise‖ secular television programmes. However, based on findings, it is revealed that Islam has been mainstreamed into national culture through forty years of televised entertainment programmes, long before the development of the television landscape’s commercial system.

Early TVRI (1962 to 1965)

According to Robert Pringle there are six key episodes of the Sukarno era that helped shape the future of political Islam in Indonesia (2010, p. 65). The first is the dispute over the formulation of the five principles of the state (Pancasila) in the Jakarta Charter (1945), particularly over reference to God as Tuhan (God) instead of Allah (God in Islam). The second is the so-called Madiun Affair (1948) which had revealed the friction between devout and nominal Muslim elements in Indonesia. Third is the Islamic state or the Darul Islam uprising (1948–1962). The fourth is the Outer Islands Rebellion (1957–1958), the fifth is the attempted coup and communal killings (1965–1966), and the sixth, which remains an important indicator of political Islam’s strength in the early days of the Republic, is the country’s first election (1955).

Throughout Sukarno’s era, nationalism was the dominant political philosophy, with President Sukarno its chief promoter. During this period, the nation ―struggled‖ for an identity that holds a general sentiment shared by the majority embracing the will to break free from the colonial power and all aspects that embody a dominating power (van Klinken, 2009). In its early years after independence, Indonesia went through a period of liberal democracy, but it was during Sukarno’s Guided Democracy2 that the

2 Sukarno attempted to equalise the three powers he thought constituted the nation: nationalism, religion, and communism (Hefner, 2000; Ramage, 1995). However, the failure of an ideal balance between the three powers resulted in regional rebellions and eventually national chaos (Herbert, 2007; Ricklefs, 2001), 29 country saw the first ideological contestation between Islam and communism.3 The chaos that ensued inspired Sukarno to become more abrupt in his efforts to integrate Indonesia (Herbert, 2007; Ricklefs, 2001). He came to realise that Indonesia was culturally, religiously, and ethnically too diverse to be stabilised on the foundational idea of plurality. Sukarno’s adoption of so-called Guided Democracy embodied this line of thought and led to the dissolution of the Constitutional Assembly, although only lasting until 1965.

It was during this period that the television system was established to serve the state authorities’ intent to unite a fragmented nation. While Lekra and Lesbumi4 used film to propagate ideology, Minister of Information Raden Maladi, who also formerly headed the Football Association of Indonesia (Persatuan Sepakbola Seluruh Indonesia, PSSI), realised the value of having something in common as a nation. Television, a medium symbolising modernity in more advanced countries such as the United States, accommodated this purpose. To achieve the objective of national unity, the first event to be broadcasted through national television was the 1962 Asian Games. According to Kitley, Maladi understood how well-suited television was to the spectacle of sports and how television could assist, both at home and abroad, the symbolic definition and construction of an Indonesian identity (2000, p. 23).

Indonesia’s first television broadcast in August 1962, the seventeenth commemoration of the Declaration of Independence and the twelve-day coverage of the Asian Games, are televisual icons of the two conflicting tendencies. The two broadcasts image a tension in the development and use of television in Indonesia over the last thirty years. One event was outward- looking, populist, and self-confident and positioned Indonesia as a modern nation, active in regional affairs. The second revealed a more narrowly constrained, inward-looking tendency to hold ―the outside‖ at arm’s length and construct a sense of identity predicated on assertions of a unique national culture and culture space (Kitley, 2000, p. 21).

particularly marked by the struggle of Muslim leaders and Islamic political parties to adopt Syariah (Islamic divine law) into the Indonesian Constitution (Baswedan, 2004, p. 670). 3 This particular struggle between contending ideologies resulted in the forming of Lesbumi (the Institute for Indonesian Muslim Arts and Culture—Lembaga Seni Budaya Muslim Indonesia), the cultural wing of NU. The organisation was formed to counter the cultural organisation regarded as loosely aligned with the Indonesian Communist Party, Lekra (the Institute for People’s Culture—Lembaga Kebudayaan Rakyat) whom they criticised as utilising art as a propaganda tool. The polarisation resulted in the Cultural Manifesto that underlined the right-wing ―art for art‖ philosophy, to counter the ―art for ideology‖ philosophy of leftist aesthetics (Budianta, 2007; Foulcher 1986). 4 See footnote 3. 30

Kitley’s excerpt above illustrates the problematic position of Indonesian television at the time, which pertains even until today. With its establishment, Maladi wanted to use television as a tool to ―enlighten the life of the people of Indonesia. It wasn’t only a matter of knowledge—but other aspects of life as well. The idea of moving to embrace modern life was important‖ (R. Maladi, as quoted in Kitley, 2000, p. 25). With this intent TVRI was established. Maladi’s ideas indeed have theoretical support. National mythmaking through sports denies, and furthermore reconciles, the fissures of gender, class, ethnicity, religion, and limits public participation by generating citizens as a ―whole‖ through media images (Tomlinson & Young, 2006). On the one hand, television as a tool for national unity could not afford, both technically (i.e. technology, funding, human resources) and ideologically (i.e. the tensions between Islam and communism), to cater to social categories (or fragmentation) as part of a diverse Indonesia in general and Islam in particular in representing Indonesia’s national identity. The main aim of establishing a national television was to create a ―common ground‖ or a neutral zone.

TVRI’s representation of Indonesia on the international stage through the Asian Games broadcast complemented Sukarno’s enthusiasm for ―symbol wielding‖ (Feith, 1963 in Kitley, 2000, p. 13). This is particularly accomplished by televising high-profile overseas trips, speech making, ceremonies, rituals, and expenditure on the ―insignia of national prestige and power‖ (Kitley, 2000, p. 35). Therefore, any televised representation of the nation aired on TVRI during this period had been secularised and stripped off of any religious and/or social fragmentation challenging the unity of the nation. Such ―secularisation‖ and ―symbol wielding‖ are fundamental traits for TVRI under New Order’s single state television system (1965–1989).

State Television (1965 to 1989)5

Several factors contributed to how Islam was positioned during the New Order (Hefner, 2000; Pringle, 2010; Vickers, 2005). Firstly, economic growth, nurtured by Suharto’s ―Western-style economic rationality, expressed through a series of five-year plans‖ (Pringle, 2010, p. 93), reduced the number of poor people by approximately three-

5 Some scholars argue that Suharto did not gain presidential status until 1967 (Vatikotis, 1998; Walangitang, 2003), but his move for power is generally accepted as marked from the ―attempted coup‖ (Pringle, 2010, p. 81).

31 quarters, although economic inequality, and corruption, also increased (Booth, 2000, p. 78). Secondly, economic development brought about social change and, aided by globalisation, ―resulted in unprecedented intellectual ferment and an upsurge in Islamic observance already visible by the late 1970s‖ (Pringle, 2010, p. 93). Thirdly, political restrictions against the reformist Islamic leaders operating through political parties, led them to exercise their influence on campuses, which both radicalised students as well as introduced pious Islam into popular culture (Hefner, 2000, p. 123). These three factors also contribute to policy regarding TVRI’s function and content during the peak of the New Order.

The mass media will be utilized to distribute information that promotes the political education of the people and the development [pengembangan] of Indonesian identity based on Pancasila. This recognizes the geography of Indonesia, which makes mass media essential for education and [the need to deliver] Pancasila education (P4) broadcasts using role play and other means that are appealing [menarik] but effective [efektif] primarily for school-age children and young people. Children’s films such as Si Unyil and Huma will be continued and used to greater advantage to plant P4 values [nilai-nilai P4] in the young generation. In planting these values as early as possible, it is hoped that the young generation will grow into citizens with high levels of national tenacity.‖ (Republik Indonesia, 1984, p. 519 in Kitley, 2000, p. 115)

Television played an important role during the New Order in terms of information dissemination and national identity construction. This is not unlike what is largely seen in the developing world as an effective tool to ―modernise‖ the identity of the audience. The role of television during the New Order exemplifies this idea of uniting the nation as a ―mass‖, moving towards the same objective set by the government. This condition is not exclusive to Indonesia. Countries from the developing world widely accepted the hypothesis of modernisation and used media technologies in similar ways to ensure the adoption of the ―modern‖ lifestyle – in the hope of creating a productive working class contributing to economic development (Kunczik, 1985; Parsons, 1982). Television content is produced within this framework, with Islam playing an important factor in inventing national culture (see Table 2.1).

The Presidential Decree Number 215 of 1963, article 4 states that TVRI is established to serve a public function in developing the nation, in terms of national mental/spiritual and physical development, and forming an Indonesian ―Social Personality‖ (Leo, 1972). Programme scheduling was developed in accordance with this objective, particularly to develop mental/spiritual characteristics of the nation, e.g. by airing a programme called Mimbar Agama (Religious Platform). Etymologically, the term mimbar is derived from Arabic language (minbar) which refers to the pulpit from which a preacher speaks (khutbah) during Friday prayers. However, the term, like the term kiblat,6 has been absorbed into the Indonesian language. The use of the word mimbar particularly targets the Muslim majority television audience in Indonesia, while at the same time adjusting it in a national context–Mimbar Agama Kristen, Mimbar Agama Buddha, Mimbar Agama Islam, even Mimbar Pembangunan ([National] Development Platform).

The ―naturalisation‖ of the term mimbar from an Islamic context makes it identifiable to Muslims and those from other religious groups. For Muslims, this produced a sense of ―national‖ and secular culture. The Mimbar Agama programmes were aired throughout the late 1980s.7 The block of Mimbar Agama Islam is divided into drama programmes, Pengajian Alquran (Quranic Recitation), Mimbar Islam, and Irama Qasidah (Qasidah Rhythm), respectively.

Religious Drama Programmes

The stills below (Figure 2.1) appeared8 in a report on TVRI’s programming between 1962–1972 under the heading ―From the Studio to the Audience‖ (similar to the expression ―From the People, [for the people and] to the People‖), sub-heading ―Religious Shows‖. The text under the pictures said ―Religious television programmes are aired regularly by TVRI. Among others through television dramas: Islamic, Christian/Catholic/Protestant, Hindu, and Buddhist‖ (Leo, 1972, p. 188). The settings

6Kiblat, the direction of prayer for Muslims, is also widely used to refer to a political affiliation and/or ideology. In a sentence such as, ―Politisi itu berkiblat ke mana?” (What is the orientation of that politician?) the religious meaning of the word is replaced with a connotation of unquestioned devotion towards a certain cause. 7 It is worth noting that Mimbar Agama Islam was aired on Thursday evenings (before the Islamic holy day of Friday) while Mimbar Agama Kristen was aired on Sunday evenings (the Christian holy day of Sunday; see Table 2.1). 8 The book is a report on TVRI’s programming between 1962–1972, published by the Television Directorate under the Ministry of Information. 34 displayed in both pictures suggest a ―fantasy, story-telling‖ method best described as ―embedded narrative‖ (Kitley, 2000, p. 132).9

Figure 2.1. Religious Drama Programmes on TVRI. The left is Islamic and the right is Catholic/Protestant. From Televisi di Indonesia: TVRI 1962-1972 by A. Leo (Ed.), 1972, Jakarta: Direktorat Televisi Departemen Penerangan, p. 188.

The left still in Figure 2.1 shows a set that includes Arab turbans and capes, usually worn in the desert, suggesting a separate time and place from the ―here and now‖. The right still, which is described as a ―Christian drama show‖, portrays Indonesian actors wearing a Roman soldier’s uniform sand Roman peasant clothes. The costumes alone suggest role-playing of a non-Indonesian historical context, which also either occurred in the past or is a biblical tale. These are similar to the case of Si Unyil’s ―embedded narrative‖ that ―is told more to reveal what religious traditions share than what makes them distinctively, doctrinally different. It is another instance of the practice of acknowledging cultural differences while erasing their specificity, which... is an important process in the national culture project‖ (Kitley, 2000, p. 133).

Pengajian Alquran

Pengajian Alquran (the Quranic recitation) is scheduled before Mimbar Agama Islam and Irama Qasidah. Islamic television programmes are designed firstly to create a reverent atmosphere by showing the reading of the Quran (in Arabic and sung in a kind of chanting melody) followed by the citing of its literal translation for 25 minutes to appeal to devout Muslim audiences (Sy, 1981). The show’s then director, Rahgutomo,

9 As Kitley observes: ―A structure of what may be called embedded narrative is used when dealing with the highly sensitive topics of religion and moral guidance. I read this strategy and the subject positions it constructs as a practice that distances discussion of religion as faith‖ (2000, p. 132). 35 in an interview with Monitor TVRI, mentioned that only professionals, such as winners of the National Quranic Recitation Competition (Musabaqah Tilawatil Qur'an/MTQ) were selected to recite the Quran but the translations were read by aspiring young adults (see Figure 2.2).

Figure 2.2. Pengajian Alquran on TVRI. Left: H. Hamidah Fatani (left) and Yuyun Nailufar (right) in a Quranic recitation and translation show (trans). From ―Yuyun Nailufar‖ by M. Saleh (1981). Monitor TVRI, 16, 10.

Rahgutomo criticised the translation readers as only seeking their 15 minutes of fame, without truly comprehending what it is they were reading or perfecting their art. The solemnity demonstrated through Quranic reading is followed by the more secular reading of its translation, using ―normal‖, attractive teenagers whose veils hang loosely over their head and whose arms are not covered (see Figure 2.3).

Figure 2.3. Reading of the Quran’s literal translation, after the reading of the Quran in Arabic. From ―Saritilawah Ayat Suci Al Quran: Kesempatan Bagi Remaja untuk Berdakwah Lewat TVRI‖ by Sy. (1981). Monitor TVRI, 34, 10.

Pengajian Alquran generates the same ―distancing‖ of a scholar reading the Quran with melody (melantunkan), which requires a specific skill in Arabic enunciation. This sense of having ―scholarship‖ and ―masterful skill‖ creates a distance from the audience both as Muslims and as Indonesians. The person is represented respectfully as one who understands divine scripture without showing any direct implementation on real social issues. The distance is invented to generate a sense of reverence; to not question the ―holy verses of Quran‖. Pengajian Alquran is then followed by an explanation of Islamic perspectives and interpretation of the Quran for 15 minutes.

Mimbar Islam

Mimbar Islam, is the essence of the whole scheduling block. Mimbar Islam is comparable to preaching shows where female and male Muslims congregate in the studio in separate groups, both facing the preacher. The preacher subsequently tries to explain how the Quran provides answers for modern societal problems within the context of Indonesia (Quranic verses are swiftly translated into Indonesian). The preacher then reads out letters sent from home audiences and answers their questions on Islamic perspectives regarding various social and personal issues. There is a similar distancing apparent in Pengajian Alquran, as the preacher is portrayed as a knowledgeable scholar to whom the audience consult.

The preachers often have a mass following, such as the Muhammadiyah Chairman A.R. Fachmuddin (Chawasi, 1980). The Islamic teachings that are articulated in Mimbar Agama Islam are integrated into modern Indonesian life, through careful selection of topics that are in line with TVRI’s slogan. The effect of Pengajian Alquran is to extend the audiences’ willingness to follow unquestioningly Mimbar Islam’s interpretation of the Quran. The string of Islamic content is then concluded with the Irama Qasidah musical show to ―neutralise‖ the seriousness of this string of religious programmes.

Irama Qasidah

Former Minister for Women’s Empowerment and Islamic figure Tutty Alawiyah introduced qasidah (Persian poetry acculturated into ―Indonesian‖ music) to TVRI. In a conventional qasidah show, musicians, singers, and instrumentalists play a mixture of

Arabic and Malayan music, often citing Islamic teachings in the lyrics, thus containing religious messages or dakwah, making the musical show an important medium for Indonesian popular Islamic music (Abramson & Kilpatrick, 2006; Rasmussen, 2001).

Figure 2.4. Three members of Patria, a qasidah group, pose. From ―Tagoni‖ by W. Hidayat & Nedi, Monitor TVRI, 1982.

The ―distancing from difference‖ that is apparent in the concept of ―embedded narrative‖ is also apparent in the Qasidah show aired after Mimbar Islam. Qasidah was seen as an entertaining way to teach Arabic to young Indonesian Muslims (Hidayat & Nedi, 1982). The singers were dressed with light veils and Javanese kebaya instead of heavy veils and unrevealing, conservative clothing10 creating a sense of a friendly, lightweight, non-dogmatic manner of learning religion (preferably in harmony with nationalistic notions). The duality between the use of music, a ―secular‖ art, and the religious message in its teachings seem to neutralise each other’s extremes. On the one hand, the genre of qasidah music is less secular than rock and roll,11 for instance, and on the other hand it is less zealous than the reading of the Quran. The qasidah is an art that is unthreatening for the pious and not dogmatic for the nominal.12

10 Compare Figure 2.4 with the more modern 1990s version of qasidah shows in which the musicians wore closed headscarves or jilbab (see Figure 2.5). 11 TVRI also broadcast ―secular‖ artists who performed several Islamic songs or albums, such as Bimbo’s Pop Qasidah album. Nowadays Bimbo is mainly known for its music with Islamic themes, like a modern version of qasidah. Another prominent dangdut artist who often appeared on TVRI is Rhoma Irama. 12 Portraying of ―Islamic‖ music also positions the Indonesian government’s stance in acknowledging an interpretation of Islam that embraces secular culture (such as music), as the permissibility of music in Islam is disputed (Shiloah, 2003). 38

Figure 2.5. Conventional format of qasidah show on central TVRI in the 1990s.

The aim of TVRI in airing religious programmes is to provide an outlet for spiritual development that is consistent with the nation’s idea of unity and integration, one that respects religious pluralism and discourages prejudice (menjauhkan orang dari prasangka keliru; Leo (Ed.), 1972, pp. 88–89). The idea is for TVRI to include all religions acknowledged by the country’s constitution and for TVRI to be a space to realise a ―safe difference‖.13

Commercial Television under an Authoritarian Rule (1989 to 1998)

Indonesia’s television remained a state-controlled, single broadcasting system for 27 years with information heavily regulated and the state having practically absolute control. Scholars generally agree that although various factors created a more liberal, commercial broadcasting system, new media technologies (particularly satellite television and video cassette rentals) performed an important role in cultural globalisation (Kitley, 2000, Sen & Hill, 2000). These new forces challenged the New Order’s tight control over information and its hegemony over the national cultural space. With exposure to foreign television programmes, the audiences’ demand for quality programmes increased—more than TVRI could afford to produce.

The station needed alternative funding sources to finance its programmes, which prompted the government to reconsider new strategies.14 The access of Indonesian

13 The quantity and duration of programmes aimed at the Muslim audience exceeds those aimed at audiences of other religions. Mimbar Agama Kristen, for instance, is aired for 15 minutes, while the whole Islamic block last for 40 minutes. Christian programmes are broadcast once a week – therefore different denominations, such as Adventist, must take turns with Catholicism. Although TVRI attempts to provide all religions with ―spiritually unifying‖ programmes, their scheduling demonstrates a greater attempt to speak to the more populous Muslim audience. 14 In 1981, advertising was introduced into the initially state-funded broadcasting system, and subsequently the industry was opened up for commercial broadcasting and competition (Kitley, 2000, p. 216). In 1987, the government legislated the establishment of pay TV service for Jakarta and its surrounding areas (Kitley, 2000; Sen & Hill, 2000). 39 viewers to transnational sources was seen to influence the decision to allow commercial television in Indonesia (Sen & Hill, 2000; Loven, 2008). The government, particularly authorities of the Ministry of Information (Departemen Penerangan), noticed that Indonesian viewers turned to alternative, foreign sources. Thus, the 1990 Ministerial Decree (Kepmen No. 111 Tahun 1990) authorised TVRI to appoint another party (private or public) to broadcast commercial television in Jakarta. After this decree, commercial television stations began to proliferate (see Table 2.2).

Table 2.2 Commercial Television Stations Operating in Indonesia in 1998

TV Station Operating Since Owner Target Audience PT Rajawali Citra 24 August 1989 (restricted Bimantara Citra Group Urban middle and Televisi (RCTI) to Jakarta); 24 August and Rajawali Wira upper class 1993 (nationwide) Bhakti Utama Group PT Surya Citra Televisi 17 January 1990 Sudwikatmono Urban middle and (SCTV) (restricted to Surabaya); upper class 24 August 1993 (nationwide) PT Cipta Televisi 23 January 1991 Cipta Lamtoro Gung Middle and lower Pendidikan Indonesia Persada class (TPI) PT Cakrawala Andalas 28 March 1993 Bakrie Group & Urban youth Televisi (ANTEVE) Hasmuda Group PT Indosiar Visual 11 January 1995 Salim Group Urban middle and Mandiri (INDOSIAR) upper class Note. From Watching Si Doel: Television, Language and Cultural Identity in Contemporary Indonesia by K. Loven, 2008, Leiden: KITLV Press, p. 45.

Although the new arrangements permitted more competition between television stations, the regulation specified that television programmes should be in harmony with the 1945 Constitution and the Pancasila, and should respect the sensitivity of SARA- related issues (Sen & Hill, 2000, p. 119).15 This drastically changed ownership pattern of Indonesia’s commercial broadcasting system in the 1990s invariably influenced the content and formatting of television programmes. Commercial television’s survival relies on the profitability of television programmes, based on their popularity as measured by ratings. RCTI adopted strategies used successfully by commercial television stations in other countries.16 The approach taken by TVRI throughout the preceding 27 years was replaced by an ―international‖ style with no attempt to broadcast

15 Commercial television licences were only issued to business associates or members of the president’s family (Sen & Hill, 2000, p. 112). RCTI was permitted to air terrestrially (without decoder) only after the owner, Peter Sondakh, formed a business relationship with Bambang Trihatmodjo, the president’s son (Loven, 2008, p. 44). 16 Eastman & Ferguson (2009) gives a practical overview of the current strategies in global media programming. 40 programmes of ―public interest‖, instead broadcasting ―marketable‖ programmes (Kitley, 2000; Barkin, 2004).

From their emergence in the 1990s, commercial television stations have played a more significant role than TVRI in shaping public perceptions of Islam. While TVRI’s absolute control over religious content in television restrained production creativity, commercial television producers of entertainment programmes avoided religious issues to the extent that characters had no identifiable religion or ethnic background (Barkin, 2004, p. 243). Herein lies the main difference between TVRI and the young commercial television stations. The latter feared appearing too secular or being perceived as disrespectful towards Islam, which is apparent in their responses towards audiences’ protests against foreign television programmes conflicting with the majority audiences’ perception of Islam.

Although it is cheaper to broadcast imported US programmes, these programmes were not always well-received by the local market (Barkin, 2004, p. 10). Certain programmes were criticised for being insensitive towards Islamic practice, such as showing cooking with pork fat during the fasting month of Ramadan (Kitley, 2000, p. 102). The main concern was that the protests, led by hardline Islamists (Wardhana, 2002 in Barkin, 2004, p. 246),17 would stir unrest in the larger Muslim population, which is the targeted audience of commercial television stations.

Furthermore, the stations took preventive measures by producing Islamic-themed television programmes, such as the evening call to prayers (adzan Magrib) and sermons (teledakwah) adopting a combination of public relations and corporate social responsibility (Barkin, 2004, p. 246). All stations announce the call of prayer five times a day and broadcast the complete evening calling of prayer (adzan Magrib) every day. All stations feature a variety of Muslim prayer show, usually early in the morning. On one hand, in their ―deep risk aversion‖, television stations have become complacent towards vocal Islamists. On the other, in continuing to produce the ―least objectionable‖ programmes, television stations reproduce a version of Islamic practice that is based on risk-avoidance which raises the question of whether or not programmes genuinely appeal to the largest audience.

17 Such protests and industry submission towards hardline Islamists were still occurring in 2011. E.g. the response of the Islamic Defenders Front (FPI) to the airing the pluralist film Tanda Tanya (Question Mark), to which SCTV submitted (Putri, 2012). 41

Dakwah Programmes

Traditionally, dakwah programmes or teledakwah were televised derivations of the dakwah method, featuring a Muslim cleric talking directly to the camera (as a ―talking head‖), or sometimes to an ―interviewer‖ as if to confirm the credibility of the cleric being someone revered enough to have authority on religious matters. In order to add to its visual aestheticism, the cleric often stands before a studio audience or in a mosque, talking with a generally sombre tone (Alfandi, 2010; Barkin, 2004; Fealy & White, 2008).

Figure 2.6. Dakwah Programmes. Still from Quraish Shihab’s Kultum (talking head, RCTI) and Hikmah Pagi18 (talkshow format, TVRI).

However, for commercial television stations, dakwah programmes received very poor ratings, with the stations claiming they broadcast them out of a sense of public service and moral responsibility (Astuti, 2005; Barkin, 2004). While some types of commercial programmes are criticised by psychologists and education scholars as impeding intellectual and psychological development, religious shows are seen to neutralise the negative effects of Indonesian television (Purnomo, 1998, p. 6). Barkin (2004, p. 245) cites Tsing’s (2001) ―economy of appearances‖ and argues that commercial television stations are attempting to reassure religious organisations by ―performing‖ a certain amount of religiosity and therewith taking pre-emptive measures by bringing outspoken conservatives into a negotiable relationship. Although the placement of the programmes coincided with Islamic rituals such as sunrise prayers (Subuh) and on Fridays (the holy day), the dakwah programmes were carefully placed outside the prime time hours of 06:00 pm to 10:00 pm so that while ―risks are averted‖, it is at minimum cost.

18 In 1997, TVRI’s Mimbar Agama Islam was renamed and redesigned Hikmah Pagi. The formatting become more attractive and dynamic in an apparent attempt to compete with how commercial television stations were packaging their Islamic-themed television programmes. 42

Table 2.3 Dakwah Shows Aired by Indonesian Television Stations in 1997

Station Programme Broadcast Time SCTV Di Ambang Fajar Daily 5:00 to 5:30 am (On the Brink of Sunrise) RCTI Hikmah Fajar (the Wisdom of Sunrise) Daily 5:30 to 6:00 am Penyegaran Rohani Islam Friday 8:00 to 8:30 am (Islamic Spiritual Revival) TPI Kuliah Subuh (Subuh Lectures) Daily 5:30 to 6:00 am IIS Islam (Islam IIS) Daily 11.30 to 12.00 am ANTEVE Mutiara Subuh (the Pearl of Subuh) Daily 5.30 to 6.00 am INDOSIAR Fajar Imani (Spiritual Sunrise) Saturday & Sunday 5:30 to 6:00 am TVRI Hikmah Pagi (Morning Wisdom) Sunday 7:00 to 7.30 am Note. Adapted from ―Dakwah Islam dalam Medium Televisi: Suatu Studi Komparatif antara Dakwah yang Disajikan di RCTI dengan di TPI‖ by S. Purnomo, 1998, University of Indonesia, Depok.

Despite their weak commercial appeal, ratings show that these shows do have a following, while the preachers in such shows claim that those who get up to watch the shows are demonstrating their commitment to their Subuh prayers (Astuti, 2005; Barkin, 2004; Purnomo, 1998). These programmes thus provide a medium for Islamic preachers, scholars, and intellectuals to reach out to a devoted audience from geographical areas otherwise unreachable. The spread of Islamic preaching in Indonesia before the advent of television was based on locality, focused on local areas with preachers sometimes using local dialects (Chamin & Baidhawy, 2003; Liddle 1996). The presence of television has allowed these preachers to reach a national audience; creating new bonds and fraternity between Muslim audiences, potentially erasing the specificity of local culture (or perhaps introducing local culture to national contexts).

Islam in Sinetron

The industry furthermore sought ways to make Islamic programmes profitable. In 1998, successful Indonesian television producer Raam Punjabi (originally from India and a self-proclaimed Hindu) came up with the idea of trying out an ―Islamic‖ sinetron. Having a television production background in India, he was skilled at producing quality entertainment television programmes. The unique trait of this sinetron was that instead of being shown weekly according to conventional scheduling, a new episode would be broadcast daily during the month of Ramadan— a whole year’s worth of shows was thus televised in four weeks and strategically aired just as the day’s fast-breaking meal

43 was ending to catch the imagined Muslim family at just the right time, with just the right sort of show (Barkin, 2004, p. 255).

One of the issues faced by Punjabi’s production house, MultiVision Plus (MVP), was how the practice of Islam could be depicted in a sinetron while maintaining a popular appeal. Which kind of Islam could be shown: should the characters wear a jilbab, for instance? The producers finally agreed to depict an Islam that was not physical, one that was distinct and non-confrontational so that ―even Christians would enjoy it‖ (Barkin, 2004, p. 257). The early development of Islamic sinetron seems to reflect TVRI’s representation of diversity without focusing on its specificity, therefore universal values such as love and compassion overshadowed specific Islamic teachings and rituals, but were apparent enough for Muslims to identify with (e.g. a wife kissing a husband’s hand before leaving the house, often practiced by Muslims in Indonesia). Punjabi’s production house MVP created the commercially successful programme Doaku Harapanku (My Hopes, My Dreams) which started a trend of copycat programmes from every other commercial television station the following year.

By the end of the 1990s, commercial television stations had developed new ways of representing Islam in Indonesian television, which coincided with the growth of Islamic influence in ―national spaces‖.19 The different logic under which the industry worked was the main factor in determining how programmes were conceptualised, which audience they targeted, and for what purpose. Meanwhile, since the appearance of multiple commercial television stations, TVRI’s popularity continued to decline due to its inability to compete creatively and financially.

Post-Authoritarian Commercial Television (1998 to 2010)

The post-Suharto, post-authoritarian, or Reform period in Indonesia was marked by the resignation of President Suharto in 21 May 1998. During the last years of the New Order, Suharto was losing his control over the state (Pringle, 2010; Hefner, 2000). The Asian financial crisis effectively undermined the New Order’s economic development, weakening Suharto’s position despite the People’s Consultative Assembly (MPR—

19 Van Bruinessen marked the turn of Islam in New Order Indonesia around the same time (2011, p. 21), signified, among others, by the emergence of the Association of Indonesian Muslim Intellectuals (ICMI— Ikatan Cendekiawan Muslim Indonesia), Soeharto’s own gradual turn from syncretism to orthodox Islam, and the founding of Republika newspaper to voice Muslim interest marginalised by the regime (Hefner, 1997, p. 96). 44

Majelis Permusyawaratan Rakyat) unanimously voting him an 8th six-year presidential term. The monumental breaking point occurred on 13-14 May 1998, when the ―worst urban riots in Indonesian history‖ (Ricklefs, 2001, p. 380) erupted in Jakarta, killing approximately 1,300 people and causing as many as 150,000 Chinese-Indonesians20 to flee the country (Pringle, 2010, p. 112). The riot led the President to resign a few days later, on advice from his trusted supporters. Despite the country’s economic struggle during the early 2000s, media businesses continued to prosper. According to Nielsen, the media advertising expenditure in Indonesia increased from 7.89 trillion Indonesian Rupiah (US$ 8.17 billion) in 2000 to 9.72 trillion Indonesian Rupiah in 2001 (US$ 10 billion; Nurwandhini, 2002).21 Advertising expenditure continued to increase more than four times in the seven years till 2007 (see Table 2.4).

Table 2.4 Advertising Expenditure for Television and Print in Indonesia (in Indonesian Rupiah)

Year Expenditure Growth (in percent) 1999 5 trillion (US$ 5.2 billion) 46 2000 7 trillion (US$ 7.25 billion) 26 2001 9 trillion (US$ 9.35 billion) 36 2002 12 trillion (US$ 1,25 billion) 35 2003 26 trillion (US$ 2.7 billion) 33 2004 22 trillion (US$ 2.3 trillion) 14 2005 25 trillion (US$ 2.6 trillion) 17 2006 29 trillion (US$ 3 billion) 17 2007 34 trillion (US$ 2.5 billion) 21 2008 41 trillion (US$ 4.25 billion) 18 2009 48,5 trillion (US$ 5 billion) 24 2010 60 trillion (US$ 6.2 billion) Note. Compiled from Group M, Indonesia Media Landscape, February 2008; ―Belanja Iklan Tembus‖, 2009; ―Belanja Iklan Indonesia 2009‖, 2010; ―Belanja Iklan Capai‖, 2011.

The highest growth occurred the year after Suharto stepped down, with a relatively declining but stable growth afterwards. The trend was caused by the proliferation of media during the euphoria of freedom and reform which had accelerated a sense of freedom of expression and creativity (van Heeren, 2002). This euphoria is both from the perspective of the industry workers (production) and the audience (consumption), as the momentum stimulated increased demand. The growth of the television industry in Indonesia had potential to provide more options for information

20 Lim, 2000 and Suryadinata, 1997 explain this historical event and its background. 21 Throughout this thesis, I use the 2012’s US$ rate against Indonesian rupiah (9600 rupiah). 45 and entertainment for the audience, and to some extent it did. The capital that flowed into the television industry increased significantly, as a consequence of the drastic change in the political climate.

Private television stations contributed 80.3 percent of this amount in 2002, making them the highest contributor compared to other types of media (Ida, 2006, p. 42). By 2000 in this commercially competitive environment television was attracting the dominant share of income from advertising via audience share and rating. Among all types of media in Indonesia (such as radio, newspapers, magazines, Pay TV, cinema, internet, mobile phones) free-to-air television is the most highly consumed media (see Figure 2.7), with the highest market share of information and entertainment compared to any other type of media.

Figure 2.7. Television Leads Consumption in Indonesia. From Nielsen Media Index Wave 4, 2007 in Group M Indonesia Media Landscape Report, February 2008.

In the 1990s, after the founding of RCTI, private television stations began to multiply. Competition between free-to-air or terrestrial television stations (private stations that air nationally) resulted in segmentation, such as Metro TV specialising in news programming (although the permit is to air as a general television station). In 2001, private terrestrial television stations Trans TV, Lativi, and TV 7 were founded, while television stations Riau TV and JTV pioneered local broadcasting. By 2006 the country had one state television station and 11 private television networks (both airing nationally), 49 local television stations (airing regionally), and three pay-television stations (see Table 2.5).

Table 2.5 Television Development in Indonesia (1962-2005)

Year State Private Local Television Station Pay TV Television Television Station Station 1962 TVRI 1988 RCTI 1989 SCTV 1991 TPI 1993 ANTV 1995 Indosiar 1999 Metro TV Kabelvision 2000 Trans TV, TV JTV, Riau TV 7, Lativi 2001 Global TV Indovision 2002 Bali TV, TVM 2004 PKTV, ProTV, RBTV, JogjaTV, Pacific TV, Kutai TV, Palembang TV, Kendari TV, EMU TV, Batam TV, Sri Junjungan TV, Gorontalo TV, TV Manado, Makassar TV, Lombok TV 2005 O Channel, SpaceToon, Astro JakTV, STV, UAD, TuguTV, Deli, Ganesha, MEGA, GOTV, Bandung TV, Bogor TV, Cahaya Banten TV Note. Adapted from Group M, Indonesia Media Landscape, February 2008.

More players meant more competition for an audience. Business strategies sought greater profits. TVRI changed its status to a corporation (Perseroan Terbatas, PT), allowing it also to receive income from advertising (Sudibyo, 2004, p. 34). Amongst new players in the television industry were those that came from more established media sectors, such as print media. The Media Indonesia Group (Grup Media Indonesia) created Metro TV, Kompas-Gramedia Group created TV7, and Jawa Pos Group created JTV, Riau TV and Batam TV (Sudibyo, 2004, p. 34). Not unlike in other countries with a liberal, commercial television system, such as the US, mergers and acquisitions between media platforms and retail companies became a common strategy (Bagidkian, 2004; Baker, 2006; Sudibyo, 2004). By the end of the 2000s, media cross-ownership and conglomeracy were influencing the television industry.

The most recent research on Indonesia’s media landscape identifies the six largest conglomerates (Nugroho et al., Haryanto, 2011).22 The first is MNC Group which owns three terrestrial television stations (RCTI, TPI, and Global TV), Indovision pay television (which owns 60 percent of pay TV audience share), 14 local television stations, a radio network across Indonesia, one newspaper (Seputar Indonesia), one online portal (Okezone), a several magazines amounting in 47 media outlets under one business group. The second is Jawa Pos Group, which expanded its business by acquiring local newspapers and united them under Radar Group. The group owns 171 print media companies and 38 local television stations. The third is the Kompas Gramedia Group which owns 89 print media companies, 12 regional newspapers and established Kompas TV (which airs nationally through local network) in 2011. The fifth is Trans Corp. which owns TransTV and Trans7, the country’s largest online portal Detik.com. Lastly, Mahaka Media Group owns five print companies, eight broadcasting companies, with a strong base amongst Muslim audiences.

Apart from concentrating media power, such cross-ownership raises concerns about programme monopoly and homogenous content (Bagdikian, 2004; McChesney, 2008; Postman, 2005). The main concern regarding media conglomeracy expressed in public debates is that television content in a monopolistic or oligopolistic industry may concentrate ideological control in the hands of a limited number of owners, leading to little diversity in programme content. The euphoria which followed the end of the New Order’s attempts at strict state control of information, arguably ended with a growing apprehension of the consequences of concentrated media ownership. Almost all channels, for instance, had the basic necessities of programme formats that were formulaic to high ratings; sinetron, celebrity gossip shows (more popularly known as ―infotainment‖ programmes), games and variety shows, reality television shows, Latin American and Bollywood dramas, American sitcoms, and music shows (Ida, 2006, p. 47).

Almost all Islamic television programmes during the first decade after Suharto work within this logic. At the same time, television owners and practitioners have been very careful in portraying televised religion, for fear of fundamental Islamist threats and of

22 Among these media conglomerates, some cross-own other non-media business units. An example is Trans Corp owning coffee shop chain Coffee Bean, Bank Mega, Trans Studio, and Carrefour supermarket. MNC owns Garuda Food and the largest telecommunications company Indosat. 48 losing the majority of the audience who are Muslims.23 With these aspects in mind, during the month of Ramadan each year, through television, images of Islamic practice become a common sight. Various television formats emerged under this frame of Islamic themes.

Celebrity Dakwah Shows

The trend of celebrity preachers or ustad24 actually began with the success of Zainuddin M.Z.25 during late New Order and the basic format of dakwah programmes throughout the past ten years is basically an adaptation of the dakwah format during the New Order where a preacher speaks to a congregation not unlike a Friday prayer sermon. Some changes, however, are apparent in the technical features of the shows.26

In the post-authoritarian period, particularly after 2000, celebrity preachers proliferated on television. The shows they host are usually comparable to talk shows, although they often appear in other formats as well. Among these celebrity preachers are Abdullah Gymnastiar (Aa Gym), Muhammad Arifin Ilham, Jefry Al-Buchory (Uje), Yusuf Mansur, Qurrata A’yun, Dedeh Rosyidah, Ahmad Al-Habsyi, Nur Maulana, and Soleh Mahmud (see Figure 2.8).27 One of the most notable celebrity preachers, who built a small empire based on his image, is Aa Gym.28

23 In 2010, as part of their corporate social responsibility, Pay TV Indovision dedicated a channel (MNC Muslim) to Islamic content. Among those are involved in the channel are Paramadina University, UIN (Universitas Islam Nasional, Islamic State University), with endorsement from Muhammadiyah. Indovision does not receive any income from the channel. 24 In an Indonesian context, ustad and ustazah for women (because of inconsistent spelling, I spell both phonetically as mentioned by the media. Unless specifically referring to an ustazah, I use ustad singularly throughout the thesis) refers to Muslim clerics, priests, teacher, or leader (in a scholarly context, they are often called ulama). It is comparable to kyai (Javanese) and buya (Minang). The term ustad has become more mainstream with the popularity of celebrity preachers. 25 Zainuddin M. Z. is known as the preacher of a million Muslims (Kiyai sejuta umat), a term referring to his charisma that appeals to literally and figuratively millions of Muslims. 26 For instance, in Zainuddin M.Z.’s era, preaching was conducted and aired directly from great mosques, with one dedicated platform for the preacher. 27 Almost all celebrity preachers have a nickname. For instance Abdullah Gymnastiar is often called Aa Gym (Big Brother Gym [Sundanese]) amd Dedeh Rosyidah is called Mamah Dedeh [Momma Dedeh]. Although the nicknames are local, casual and are often term of endearments to a relative (brother, mother) they are prefixes to address an older relative (big brother, mother). So although there is less Islamic reverence, these prefixes address the ustad as older, more respectful people. 28 Hoesterey (2008) provides a complete story of Aa Gym’s empire and its collapse. 49

Figure 2.8. Celebrity Dakwah Shows. Upper left: Uje on Tausyiah Ramadan (RCTI). Upper right: Ustad Solmed on Assalamu’alaikum, Ustad (RCTI). Lower left: Clip from the show Mamah dan Aa (ANTV). Lower right: Aa Gym on Indahnya Kebersamaan (the Beauty of Togetherness, SCTV).

Aa Gym’s preaching is stylised as a means of marketing the ―universal virtues‖ of Islam, which Watson calls ―the privatisation of religion‖ or the internalisation of religious ideas and the understanding of their applicability to seemingly secular everyday public and domestic routines (2005, p. 775). Talk shows are usually in a relaxed setting, where the studio audience can ask questions to the ustad. The method used by these charismatic preachers challenged the more dogmatic method frequented by Muslim leaders. Aa Gym even admonished such leaders to become savvier about marketing, asserting that ―If a person does not know how to market it right, even a delicious durian won’t sell‖ (Hoesterey, 2008, p. 93). His strategy worked successfully, sharply increasing his popularity and business income. At the pinnacle of his public fame, Aa Gym took a second wife, inviting widespread disappointment from his mainly middle-age female fan base. The pressure even made President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono order a review of the national marriage law (Hoesterey, 2008, p. 96).

The consequent loss of Aa Gym’s popularity and commercial success showed that his popularity was less about his religious influence than his branding or image. Despite that, more celebrity preachers continue to flock to television. One aspect such celebrity preachers have in common, aside from their personal appeal, is that they own private businesses attached to their celebrity image. Aa Gym owned a small business empire that included household goods and broadcasting, Mamah Dedeh owns a Muslim fashion

50 line (Mamah Dedeh Collection) which sponsors her talk show, Mamah dan Aa, ustad Jefry opened the Uje Centre to offer consultancy services to name a few.

Live Zikir Akbar

Celebrity preacher Arifin Ilham often leads a massive service in which he guides an audience of thousands in collective prayers and zikir29 (often coined by television as zikir akbar, the great zikir), Such formats, which continue to be broadcast, often involve a congregation of thousands led by one celebrity preacher, a big theme, pop figures, corporate sponsors, state and Islamic authority endorsement. As an illustration, on 31 December 2007, Lativi (now TVOne) aired a national zikir to welcome the New Year, dubbing the show Tangis, Senyum Negeriku (My Country’s Tears and Smile). The event was hosted by sinetron religi stars Zaskia A. Mecca and David Chalik, who are also the presenters of Da’i Cilik (Little Preacher).30 The great zikir, led by Arifin Ilham, also included a poetry reading by Taufik Ismail, and the presence of NU leader Hasyim Muzadi, Muhammadiyah leader Din Syamsuddin and Hidayat Nur Wahid, former head of the Islamic, democratic Prosperous Justice Party (PKS—Partai Keadilan Sejahtera) and MPR.

The presence of representatives from NU and Muhammadiyah, who have both religious and state authority, as well as Zaskia and David suggest mainstream modern Islam works well with the commercial aspects of the television industry. The event was timed to coincide with New Year’s Eve, and took place in the At Tin mosque located in Jakarta’s ―Beautiful Mini Indonesia‖ theme park (TMII—Taman Mini Indonesia Indah). The choice of time and place signifies that the event is both about a Muslim and national gathering.

29 Zikir or dhikr is a form of praising, mentioning and remembering the name of Allah by repeating divine names, as explained in the Hadith and Quran. Zikir can be done individually or collectively (Muhaiyaddeen, 1999). 30 A talent show comparable to Indonesian Idol in search of a young preacher (to which I will return in the next section). 51

Figure 2.9. New Year's Eve national zikir ceremony. From ―Jamaah Padati Masjid At- Tin‖ by Krisman, Republika, December 31, 2009.

Lativi (now TVOne) Executive Producer Brilianto K. Jaya stated that the programme was aimed at providing an alternative for the viewers, particularly considering how the country had been punished by natural disasters, riots, and social problems in 2007 (―Tontonan Alternatif‖, 2007). This event was held in cooperation with newspaper Republika (a mainstream Islam-oriented newspaper). On 31 December 2009, Republika again organised a national zikir ceremony (acara zikir nasional) at At Tin mosque to welcome the New Year without hedonistic celebrations (Krisman, 2009). Among those present were UIN Rector Komaruddin Hidayat and Minister of Religious Affairs Suryadharma Ali. The zikir was led by Arifin Ilham and sponsored by, among others, Islamic bank CIMB Niaga Syariah, Pertamina energy corporation, and Bank Mandiri.

Televised Islamic Music

In the 1970s, music with Islamic messages (dakwah music, like the aforementioned Rhoma Irama’s dangdut), turned out to be big commercial business. After 2000, dakwah music became even more widely televised during the fasting month of the Ramadan and some more popular groups are even broadcast throughout the year. Aside from the genres of qasidah and dangdut, a more recent television trend is the Islamic music genre nasyid. 31 This trend coincided with the rise in popularity of groups such as SNada (Senandung Nada dan Dakwah Humming a melody and spreading the message), Gradasi, and Justice Voice.

31 Nasyid (annasyid (lecture or reverberation in Arabic) which refers to ―(singer of) religious song‖, and it musically refers to a song genre that became popular in neighbouring Malaysia in the 1980s used as a vehicle of moral teachings or dakwah (Barendregt & Zanten, 2002, p. 78). Only recently has nasyid become popular consumption by its use of the national language instead of Arabic (Salam & Budiyanto, 2005, p. 1). 52

Nasyid music is often integrated into a talk show led by celebrity preachers or through a pop musician taking part a concert show. Music by nasyid groups is popular with the audience because it not only preaches religious dogmas but also touches on social issues,32 often meshing Islamic dogmas with local music (e.g. the nasyid acapela group Gradasi performed a medley of traditional Sundanese songs with lyrics propagating Islamic value on Lativi in July 2006).

Figure 2.10. Singer Opick performing with nasyid acapela SNada on SCTV music show Inbox, 22 August 2009, RCTI.

In tandem with the increasing the number of nasyid singers popularised through television, religious music albums and their television performance have also flourished. The pop band Ungu (Purple), known for their love songs, has released an album entitled Surgamu (Your Heaven), containing religious songs with lyrics expressing the blessings on the Prophet (Hasan, 2009, p. 246). Opick (Aunur Rofil Lil Firdaus), after the success of his first two religious albums, produced a third entitled Semesta Bertasbih (Universe’s Remembrance of God; Hasan, 2009, p. 246).

As part of RCTI’s 2010 Ramadan programme, every Thursday evening the station airs a live Mega Konser Ramadan (Ramadan Mega Concert) where ustad Jeffri Al Bukhori (Uje),33 hosts a concert where secular musicians play Islamic-themed songs. The Mega Konser Ramadan is not unlike the conventional live concert shows aired throughout the year, where musicians hold a concert in different cities each week which are broadcast

32 There are three sub-genres of nasyid (Pikiran Rakyat Online, 25 November 2001 in Barendregt & Zanten, 2002, p. 78). The first is nasyid Melayu, characterised by its typical use of percussion, second is nasyid acapela (a capella singing), and the third makes prominent use of hymns, and emphasises the defence of one’s religion (jihad). The first two sub-genres are currently popular on television. One of the most prominent nasyid music groups in Indonesia regularly featured on television is SNada (Senandung Nada dan Dakwah, Humming a melody and spreading the message). 33 Also known as Ustad Gaul (Outgoing Ustad, gaul being a slang among youth) and former drug user. 53 live by the television station. The Mega Konser Ramadan has a distinctive theme of the month of Ramadan and an ustad as host.

Figure 2.11. Mega Konser Ramadan, Live from Cikarang. 12 August 2010, RCTI.34

The vocalist in Ungu, Pasha, was asked by ustad Jeffry to recite the Quran (see Figure 2.11) to which his female fans cheered. Compared to the dakwah strategy of using music as a means to communicate, the Mega Konser Ramadan and several like it, is less dogmatic, presumably trying to reach a younger, more secular and liberal audience. In its design and strategy, it resembles a pop rock concert more than Islamic- themed musical dakwah.

Religious Reality Shows

Reality television or the reality show is a television genre that purportedly represents actual unscripted events involving ordinary people instead of professional actors that not only reduces production cost but increased commercial appeal by portraying ―real‖ people (Hill, 2005). In the context of Indonesian reality show,35 there are two main trends that are as noteworthy as they are controversial in representing Islam. The first is

34 Pasha also sung a heartfelt song Doa untuk Ibu (A Song for Mother), where his mother (who doesn’t normally wear a jilbab but had an orange one on) went on the stage to join him. 35 The trend of reality shows in Indonesia was initiated by the commercial success of Katakan Cinta (Say Love) produced by REC Production which specialises in youth pop culture and initiated a trend of reality shows on Indonesian television (Ayu, 2007). 54 the trend of tayangan mistik (supernatural shows),36 initiated by the success of RCTI’s Kismis (Kisah Misteri, Mystery Stories), that flourished between 2002 and mid 2005. The second is the trend of Realigi (a wordplay of Realita [Reality] and Religi [Religion]), reality shows that focus on personal hardships and a person’s religious enlightenment. In 2002, almost every television station had a reality show with a mistik (occult) theme.

Supernatural shows had the common characteristics of showing real-life supernatural occurrences and/or re-enactments by professional actors. Stories are usually macabre, showing unscientific supernatural events in which ustad come to free areas or people from spirits. Other programmes that follow the same format are TransTV’s Dunia Lain (The Other World), O, Seraam! (Oh, How Scary!) on RCTI, and Lativi’s Pemburu Hantu (Ghost Hunter; ―Tayangan Setan,‖ 2005).

Figure 2.12. Exorcism of gombel ghost in Pendem, Central Java. Source: Pemburu Hantu, 7 September 2006, Lativi.

The programme Realigi aired on Trans TV is a reality show that portrays ―true life stories‖ of people who are going through hardships that they seek to resolve through religion. Different from supernatural shows, it is not an ustad but the Realigi production team which aids the protagonist. Tension is normalised by divine intervention. The narrative in both formats suggests that although supernatural powers are acknowledged to exist and that they are present among us, they are a cause for chaos and consequently need to be contained.

Realigi created a public debate. The Indonesian Broadcasting Commission (KPI— Komisi Penyiaran Indonesia), after receiving public protests, objected to the show for

36 The term tayangan mistik is how the media often dubs it. 55 promoting irrational thinking through representing mysticism (Komisi Penyiaran Indonesia, 2010).37 However, this format continues to be produced and aired, as the production cost per episode, without the cost of actors, scriptwriters, or sets, is low (J. Ekadi Katili, personal communication, April 29, 2011). Because the technical quality is not comparable to sinetron, for example, the content must be more sensational to grab the audience’s attention. The theme of the supernatural, tamed with Islamic authority, seemed ideal as a package for this format.

Dakwah Talent Shows

The talent show format in Indonesia follows the successful global format of a show that basically documents the selection of candidates and subsequent elimination of them based on jury’s comments and audience voting. Depending on the show, the jury’s vote may overrule that of the audience, or vice versa. The success of RCTI’s Indonesian Idol and Indosiar’s Fantasy Academy (Akademi Fantasi Indosiar—AFI; Coutas, 2006, p. 372) has inspired other spin-offs in other talent areas such as comedy, bands, acting, television presenting, and knowledge of the Islamic faith.

In 2005, TPI created a show that searched for young talent in dakwah (da’i)38 entitled Dakwah TPI or DAI. The show received positive feedback from the public, both in content reception and ratings. The grand finale of DAI, which was called Kubah Da’i, received the Syiar Ramadhan Award 2005 from the Indonesian Ulama Council (MUI— Majelis Ulama Indonesia). The show established indicators to score the performance of the contestants (i.e. speech, answers to audience’s questions). Ellasari claims that this strategy was taken to increase tension during the competition (Nurdiansyah, 2006) – increasing the show’s ratings. The juries comprise of academics, ulama, and celebrities.39

37 The show is criticised for violating among others Article 10 (i.e. broadcasting stations must protect the interest of children, teenagers, and/or women), Article 17 (i.e. broadcasting stations must classify programmes based on age and the audience’s level of maturity), and Article 39 verse (5) (i.e. Classification R (Remaja—Young Adult) are prohibited from airing paranormal, heretical, spiritual- magical practices, and/or mysticism). KPI directed the station to reclassify the show to classification D (Dewasa—Adult) time slot, which is after 10:00 pm. 38 Based on its Arabic origin, it should be spelled as da’i not dai. But sometimes it is also spelled by the media as dai, which refers to how it is popularly pronounced in Indonesian. 39 For the male da’i, these included among others Jeffrey Al Bukhori, as well as rock singer Ikang Fawzy and Minister of Youth and Sports Adhyaksa Dault. For the females, juries include female ustad Lutfiah Sungkar, retired film and TV star Marissa Haque, and former supermodel Ratih Sang. 56

Figure 2.13. Elimination round for DAI show, on Mimbar Dai, TPI.

Similar to the formula of singer-performer talent quests, the show follows the daily rituals of the contestants in a show called Pondok Dai (Dai’s Lodging), which includes training, learning, practice with prominent ustad, outdoor activities, reflection, zikir, and reading the Quran. The da’i and da’iah are then challenged to deliver sermons in marginalised areas, such as prostitution localities, prisons, thug (preman) areas, and disaster-struck locations. Each week, the da’i go through eliminations, again similar to the formula of conventional talent quests, in a show called Mimbar Dai (Dai’s Platform). Mimbar Dai accumulated more than 2.5 billion Indonesian Rupiah (U$ 2.6 million) from SMS polling, where audience voting comprise 20 percent and jury weighting 80 percent of the proportional judging (―Program Dakwah‖, 2005). The money collected is used for more dakwah activities, such as building mosques, Islamic schools, charity for the poor and victims of natural disasters.

Following the success of DAI, Lativi created the controversial Pemilihan Da’i Cilik (Pildacil—Young Da’i Competition), a talent show in search of a young da’i (in which contestants are around 7 to 10 years old). ―We took the opportunity. [We chose children] because they are naïve and childish. That makes the show appealing,‖ Pildacil Producer Malikye P. Bilondatu explained (―Program Dakwah‖, 2005). The show was aired for four seasons. According to Lativi’s then Public Relations Manager, Pildacil’s special Ramadan episode ―Pildacil Best of the Best‖ received a rating of 1 to 1.3 which he claims was a success (―Pildacil Best of‖, 2006). Despite receiving criticism from child rights advocates, the show continues to run until 2012 (Haryanto, 2012).

Sahur Programmes

Usually during Ramadan, preachers give short sermons or moderate religious discussions during sahur.40 In 1998, the sahur programme Sahur Kita was aired in the format of an infotainment show, but by mid-2000s, this format was replaced by Ramadan sahur shows. Leading programmes in this format are Yuk Sahur Yuk aired by Trans TV, Sahur Kita on SCTV, Sahur Dong on TPI, and Sahur Bareng on RCTI. These programmes were similar to variety shows that are widely popular in Indonesian television.41 In 1999, the variety show format was first introduced to the usually Islamic-themed Ramadan shows during sahur with SCTV’s Sahur Kita (Our Sahur), which combined comedy (lawak), religious sermons, and entertainment quizzes (Astuti, 2005, p. 103), which also led to similar programmes in other stations (see Table 2.6).

Table 2.6 Television Programmes during the Ramadan Sahur Time Slot (October 2004)

Television Name of Programme Duration Airtime Genre Station RCTI Sahur Bareng (Joint Sahur) 1.5 hours 02.30–04.00 am Variety Show SCTV Sahur Kita (Our Sahur) 2 hours 02.00–04.00 am Variety Show Indosiar Sahur AFI 1 hour 03.00–04.00 am Variety Show Trans TV Yuk Sahur Yuk (Let’s Sahur) 1.5 hours 02.30–04.00 am Variety Show TPI Sahur Dong Sahur (Come 1.5 hours 02.30–04.00 am Variety Show On, Let’s Sahur) ANTV Campur-Campur Sahur 1 hour 03.00–04.00 am Variety Show (Mixed Sahur) TV7 Salam Sahur (Sahur 1 hour 02.30–03.30 am Variety Show Greetings) Global TV MTV Sahur 30 mins 03.00–04.00 am Music Show NSH Ramadhan 30 mins TVRI Saur Bersama (Sahur 30 mins 04.00–04.30 am Talk Show Together) Metro TV Tafsir Al Misbach 30 mins 04.00–04.30 Talk Show Note. Adapted from ―Ramadan dalam Bingkai Religius di Televisi: Kajian Atas Fenomena Infotainment dalam Program Sahur‖ by S.I. Astuti, 2005, Universitas Indonesia, Depok.

Public debate on the trend of sahur programmes varied, some seeing it as natural (wajar), as such programmes were designed to entertain those having their sahur meals disinterested in digesting complex messages (Lugito et al., 2003), while others saw it as a tragedy, ―commodifying religion‖ (Muhammadun, 2004). Despite such criticism, the

40 The morning meal, sahur, is the last meal before the daily fast begins at dawn. 41 Inspired by the global, US format, ariety shows refer to entertainment programmes that are made up by several acts, more often than not musical performances and comedy sketches moderated by hosts. Several currently popular television programmes such as Extravaganza (Trans TV), Opera van Java (Trans7), Dahsyat (RCTI) are all dubbed by each broadcasting station as one form of a variety show. 58 trend of sahur programmes continued each year.42 In the same timeslot, entertainment programmes, particularly variety shows, dominate the broadcast hour with 43 percent audience share. The amount of viewers watching the programme format leads ahead of the sinetron’s 30 percent audience share and dakwah show’s mere 7 percent. A similar trend occurred in Ramadan 2009, that also showed the stark difference between generic prime time (7:00 to 9:00 pm) with Ramadan prime time, which falls on sahur time (3:00 to 4:00 am) and fast-breaking time (6:00 to 7:00 pm).

The current development of sahur shows that exclude any obvious Islamic representation negates the criticism that religion has become a commodity in sahur programmes, for these are now predominantly generic comedy variety shows. However, television stations are criticised for broadcasting such shows during sahur. For example, in 2009, KPI urged Happy Sahur (ANTV) and Saatnya Kita Sahur (Time for Us to do Sahur; Trans TV) to reduce verbal mockery and violence in their shows, although the comedians did not make any humorous reference to anything religious (Komisi Penyiaran Indonesia, 2009). Film director and television producer Deddy Mizwar expressed his concern that the sahur programmes did not possess any educative or religious value and urged MUI to monitor the shows (Amri & Syahid, 2010). By contrast, Islamic scholar Komaruddin Hidayat argued that sahur programmes, just like mudik43 during Lebaran (Islamic feast after the Ramadan), are Islamic phenomena that should be accepted as uniquely Indonesian (Hidayat, 2010).

Conclusion

The political and economic changes that frame the transition from a single, state television system into a thriving, competitive commercial system in Indonesia have brought changes to television programming and content. Islam has received more attention compared to other religions in the country since the New Order and its influences over national spaces continued to grow until the end of the regime and after. The post-1998 commercial system fed into this growth, resulting in the inclusion of more Islamic themes into television formats. This development has brought several consequences for how Islam is manifested in television.

42 During the first two weeks of Ramadan in 2008 (September 1 to 14) the total audience increased by 20 percent. During sahur time, this averages 11.1 percent of the total TV viewer population or approximately 4.7 million people (AGB Nielsen Media Research). 43 Mudik means ―homeward bound‖ or returning to one’s home town/village several days before the Idul Fitri. 59

Firstly, in contrast to the Islamic shows on the New Order’s private television stations which were heavy on dakwah, the current trend is for Islamic themes to be merged with ―secular shows‖. Islamic themes are evident in sinetron, reality shows, variety shows, and talk shows, whose formats are predominantly inspired by previously successful formats both in Indonesia (i.e. dakwah programmes evolved into talk shows guided by celebrity preachers) and other countries. The success of this strategy has resulted in the increase in the variety of Islamic television formats.

Secondly, although the variety of formats has increased, content has remained relatively ―safe‖. The industry has in turn created new strategies in relation to their ―deep risk aversion‖ (Barkin, 2004). These strategies include celebrity preachers that have their own audience segmentation and television format, resulting in intertextuality between Islamic television programmes (e.g. Uje appeals to young Muslims and often appears in Islamic music shows, while ustad Arifin Ilham appeals to mass congregations and often leads televised great zikir).

Thirdly, there are some concerns expressed regarding ―Islamisation‖ or the ―conservative turn‖ after Suharto (van Bruinessen, 2011). The expanding formats of Islamic television programmes are related to the gradually growing influence of Islam in Indonesia, which gave precedence to the production of Islamic television programmes by means of a stable rating increase of shows with Islamic themes. The television industry’s risk aversion determines what kind of Islam appears, which contributes to ―conservative‖ or ―mainstream‖ portrayals which, to the television industry, means ―commercially safe‖.

Celebrity preachers, for instance, are popular because of their everyday teachings, not for their scholarly knowledge of the Quran (Muzakki, 2011, p. 54). The judges of dakwah talent shows are pop figures and those present in live ―great zikir‖ shows are state officials. Even when ustad are present in these shows, they are celebrity preachers. Based on such data I argue that the proliferation of Islamic themes on Indonesia’s television is formed through a negotiation between ―Islamisation‖ and commercialisation, resulting in the mainstreaming of Islam into the nation’s televised popular culture. I elaborate on the last Islamic-themed television format, sinetron religi, the main focus of this thesis, in the next chapter.

Part Two: Industry Structuration

The essence of political-economic analysis is not to unilaterally stress the direct dependent relation between media content and economic determiners (as many assume), but to conduct a concrete study of the strained relation between structural determination and practical autonomy (Verstraeten, 1996, p. 360-361).

We are the ones who own these platforms, therefore we should have the right to own the content and distribute them to other platforms (H. Achmad, 2011).

CHAPTER THREE

THE COMMERCE AND CULTURE OF SINETRON RELIGI

Throughout the 1990s, the sinetron industry under the late New Order had been controlled by the regime to protect the so-called ―national cultural identity‖ (Ida, 2006, p. 84).1 Since Suharto’s fall, although such crude political control no longer exists, the commercial logic of the sinetron industry led to new ways of control over production and content. This chapter examines the sinetron industry’s economic- materialist determinants that have shaped the production of popular culture sourced from secondary archives, documents, television clips, and interviews. Firstly, I describe the development of the sinetron industry after Suharto, particularly the transformation of ownership patterns of production houses and their partnerships with television stations, as well as their audience segmentation. I narrow the focus by describing the major players within the industry and the general changes in sinetron content. Secondly, I elaborate on the business strategies taken by television stations and production houses that show the relationships between television organisations2 in imagining a national Muslim audience.

Television programming and methods that are practiced in other countries with heavily commercial television industries, such as the stripping method, audience classification, and ―me-too‖ television programmes, are also practiced in Indonesia’s sinetron industry. Thus, thirdly, as a result of the industry’s television programming, sinetron, in their abundance, have become standardised and homogenous. Blatant commodification of Islam, however, has triggered the Islamic agency (dakwah) of Muslim producers who utilised the popularity of sinetron religi as a means for religious promotion. As a result, sinetron religi have formed clusters that I categorise by identifying their common features. I investigate how the content of sinetron religi can be divided into three main categories: supernatural, melodramatic, and alternative sinetron religi. I elaborate for the first time how, although often interchangeable and referred to collectively as sinetron religi, the characteristics of

1 This was done through the Indonesian Sinetron Festival (FSI) and favouritism towards Buletin Sinetron (Sinetron Bulletin) aired exclusively through RCTI (Ida, 2006, p. 90). 2 Television organisations here refer to advertisers, production houses, television stations, rating body and their business deals that link them together. I narrow the focus from Shoemaker & Reese’s (1996) media organisation. Throughout this chapter, I focus on the media economy of production houses as case study. 61 each are distinctive.

This chapter mainly explores the exchange between television stations and production houses in the making of sinetron religi. I describe the conventions that each cluster of sinetron religi represent that include notions of audience class and Islamic identity. Analysis centres on explaining how the sinetron industry has generally developed in the past decade and the emergence and clustering of sinetron religi in particular.

Post-Suharto Sinetron Industry3

In very general terms, Indonesia’s Post-Suharto sinetron industry follows commercial media routines that are related to television production (Shoemaker & Reese, 1996; McCombs, 2004). Its mode is generally hierarchical, in which individual workers have less power over determining the production process compared to the production house and television station. The main economic determinants are the business relationships between the production house, television stations, the rating body, advertisers, television owners, civil society organisations, and dominant ideology (Shoemaker & Reese, 1996, p. 101). Mosco (2009) explains in greater detail, the way Shoemaker and Reese’s (1996) model does not, the commodification of the communication industry, namely content, audience, ratings, state institutions, and labour). But both Mosco’s (2009) and Shoemaker & Reese’s (1996) logic are at work in the sinetron industry today.

In the late 1990s, the growth of the sinetron industry was largely related to Ram Punjabi, the pioneer of Indonesian sinetron as it is today. Punjabi’s format is actually a transnational derivation of the general norm in local Indian television production. His production house, Multivision Plus (MVP), adapted the plots of successful Indian soap operas to Indonesian settings while at the same time preserving Indian aesthetics (Barkin, 2004, p. 59). Not only did the tried-and-tested Indian formats cut production costs, the capital that Punjabi had already owned and brought to Indonesia to begin his empire allowed him to establish the sinetron.

3 On the sinetron industry during late New Order, see Barkin, 2003 and Ida, 2006. 62

Indonesian television producers regard the success of MVP as based on the financial investment in the production of locally made sinetron (Barkin, 2004, p. 59). With the capital the company had and years of experience in the Indian television industry, MVP effectively constructed the taste of Indonesian commercial soap opera. ―While [local] production houses would come to stations with only a pilot program, or perhaps even just an idea and a request for funding to develop it, MVP arrived at the table with a complete package, including sponsors already attached‖ (Barkin, 2004, pp. 104-105). With 80 percent share of the sinetron audience (Ida, 2006, p. 92), MVP created a sinetron formula that included melodramatic plots (inspired by Bollywood films) and desires for wealth and luxury (as the targeted audience is the majority B and C class audience; Barkin, 2004, p. 56).4

MVP dominated the sinetron landscape throughout the first decade of Indonesia’s commercial television system by producing almost 40 percent of the total sinetron titles aired (Pratomo, 2003). This dominance persisted throughout the late 1990s to the early 2000s. MVP was not without competitors, for instance Genta Buana (6 percent), also established in the 1990s, survived by focusing on action sinetron. Other prominent production houses followed during the early 2000s, such as Prima Entertainment (8 percent), while other production houses, predominantly focusing on film production such as Rapi Films (2 percent), expanded after MVP’s television success (Pratomo, 2003).

The early 2000s marked the end of MVP’s unassailable lead in the sinetron industry. For the television station producers, Punjabi had become too dominant in programming, controlling advertisers and making sure MVP sinetron were not aired simultaneously by competing stations. This way, MVP sinetron received the highest rating across as many stations as possible. Station bosses began to resist their loss of autonomy. According to SCTV’s Director of Programming, Harsiwi Achmad, this realisation coincided with an increase in the number of production houses that answered the demands of the increasing number of media platforms (i.e. national television, local television, online television). ―We are the ones who own these platforms, therefore we should have the right to own the content and distribute them

4 Based on the socio-economic status of residents in 10 cities in Indonesia, the 2008 Nielsen audience classification are as follows (using monthly income in Indonesian rupiah): A1 3.5 million (US$ 360 and over); A2 2.5 to 3.5 million (US$ 260 to 360); B 1.75 to 2.5 million (US$ 180 to 260); C1 1.25 to 1.75 million (US$ 130 to 180); C2 900,000 to 1.25 million (US$ 93 to 130); D 600,000 to 900,000 (US$ 62 to 93); E 600,000 and below (US$ 62 and below; ―Inflasi 12 Persen‖, 2008). 63 to other platforms. This business turn motivated television [stations] to take our power to drive production houses or at least cooperate equally with them. And this is when beli putus (cash and carry)5 began‖ (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011).

Table 3.1 2011 Audience Share and Main Content by Television Station

Television Station Audience Share Main Content (in percent) RCTI 17 Sinetron, comedy. SCTV 16 Sinetron, import drama. Transt TV 14 Variety show, sinetron, comedy. MNCTV 12 Sinetron religi, local music. Trans 7 10 Sports, reality shows, news. Indosiar 10 Sinetron, import drama, reality show. Global TV 8 Nickelodeon, F-1 racing, MTV. ANTV 7 Lifestyle, family entertainment, sports. tvOne 5 News, sports. Metro TV 3 News, talkshow, documentary. Note. From Mapping the Landscape of the Media Industry in Contemporary Indonesia by Y. Nugroho, D.A. Putri, S. Laksmi, Jakarta: CIPG and HIVOS, p. 61.

In the period 2007 to 2009, stations with the highest audience share that specialised in sinetron, RCTI and SCTV (see Table 3.1), made business deals with SinemArt and MD Entertaintment (MD) respectively6 to curb MVP’s dominance. Thus, MD and SinemArt both compete head-to-head in supplying sinetron to television (Kurniawan, 2010). By 2003, newcomer MD had produced 200 sinetron titles or episodes and in 2005 and 2006 it won several Panasonic Gobel Awards.7 In 2005, newcomers KEP Media, MD Entertainment, and SinemArt had changed the sinetron landscape by introducing derivations of Korean drama and targeting a younger audience (rather than the previously targeted housewives).

5 See jual putus (outright sale) in the next paragraphs. 6 Founded by Manooj Dhamoo Punjabi, son of Raam Punjabi’s younger brother Dhamoo Punjabi (―Wawancara Eksklusif ―, 2010). 7 Panasonic Gobel Awards is a tribute given by PT Panasonic Gobel Indonesia to appreciate the merits of television personalities. The selection process involves audience voting compiled through questionnaires managed by the company. The award is somewhat comparable to the US’ Golden Globe Awards.

Compared to 120 sinetron titles aired in 2003 (Ida, 2006, p. 87), between 2005 and mid-2010 2700 sinetron titles were aired, making an average of 495 sinetron titles per year (2005 to 2009) as a consequence to this change (see Table 3.2). There is an average of 13 episodes per title8 while the production cost of one sinetron ranges between 100 to 300 million Indonesian Rupiah (US$ 10 to 30 thousand) per episode (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011). In the past five years, between US$ 351 million to US$ 1 billion has been spent in the production of sinetron in Indonesia. This number is more than three times South Korea’s US$ 100 million annual global export of K-drama (Shim, 2008, p. 27).

Table 3.2 Total Amount of Sinetron Titles Broadcasted (2005-2010)

Sinetron Titles Year Broadcast 2005 663 2006 556 2007 565 2008 425 2009 266 2010 225 Total 2700 Note. Compiled from Nielsen Rating Program TRANS, SCTV, TPI; all people 5+, 10 cities; 2005-2010. Jakarta: AGB Nielsen Media Research.

Although the number of sinetron titles broadcast continued to decrease, each sinetron title gained a stable following leading to more episode production overall (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June 11, 2011). The three main models of business agreement between television stations and production houses, namely outright sale (jual putus),9 revenue sharing, and blocking time (Ida, 2006, p. 93), are still practiced in the sinetron industry today (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June 11, 2011 & H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011). However, the general and most recent trend is for television stations to control the content of sinetron and order the production houses to create sinetron based on the television stations’ programming team analysis.

8 This is the average number of episodes a television station orders to a production house if the pilot is approved (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June 11, 2011). Some sinetron, such as Munajah Cinta (2008), reached 92 episodes. 9 The production house transfers all of the rights of the sinetron to the television station immediately after purchase. The latter gains full rights over the sinetron. From the side of the television station, it is beli putus (cash and carry). 65

Television Programming

Unlike what had occurred in the late 1990s, the current sinetron industry involves a pitching process. Achmad notes that a relatively similar process was implemented during her work in TPI, RCTI, and now SCTV. Firstly, the programming team of a television station analyses audience data provided by Nielsen audience share, ratings, and segmentation. The team strategises new television content, and then tries to determine whether the market is saturated or a sinetron theme has been replicated too often, causing a decline in audience numbers. The team then looks back through the main trends in the past ten years for a successful theme and attempts to repeat its success with novel (or reproduction of previously trending) content. They then verify quantitative Nielsen data with qualitative methods — such as group discussions and interviews — and conduct minute-by-minute content analysis on highest rated programmes to identify which content received the highest rating (i.e. key theme). The team notes the type of content represented in a sinetron when the rating peaked, then orders that it be replicated by the production house. According to Achmad, which production house they approach to pitch a sinetron depends on several factors.

Firstly, several production houses have track records of producing specific themes. As an illustration, because religious melodrama is a combination of the more generic sinetron with an Islamic theme, Achmad called in SinemArt. This was because SinemArt had a successful track record in producing melodramatic sinetron with some religious substance such as Pintu Hidayah (2005) and Buku Harian Nayla (2007), both aired by RCTI. Secondly, the selected production house, or sometimes several competing production houses, submits a synopsis. If the television station approves the synopsis, the production house creates the pilot episode, which, if approved by the television station, will be aired (with minor changes if necessary). Whether or not it is finally broadcast the production expense of the pilot is borne by the production house. This strategy also changed business deals between RCTI and SinemArt, as well as SCTV and MD, because requesting production houses for sinetron pitches, and leaving the production costs of the pilot episode to the production house, meant production houses must compete against each other to win. This leaves the television station with practically no financial losses if the sinetron flopped.

For television stations, competition between production houses has made the sinetron industry healthier than it was during MVP’s dominance, because it gave more autonomy to television stations to determine their content (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011). Conversely, it also placed the television stations in a dominant position. They now have the power to reject a ready-to-air pilot episode without having to compensate the costs incurred by production houses.

To curb this risk, production houses created exclusive and binding contracts with actors and actresses under their modelling agencies (D. Rusmana, personal communication, June 23, 2011). Firstly, actors and actresses under this contract are not allowed to play in sinetron created by competitor production houses. Secondly, through these contracts, the same actors and actresses may play in several sinetron aired simultaneously. Thirdly, exclusive contracts allowed back-to-back sinetron episode production that follows the television station programming team’s audience analysis or the stripping method.

The Stripping Method

In 2006, the success of engaging viewers for four hours during the Ramadan (6.00 to 10.00 pm) inspired stations to extend the original 7.00 to 9.00 prime time slot to four hours throughout the year (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June 11, 2011). Another development in relation to the four-hour prime time slot is the so-called stripping method. Stripping is the pattern of airing the sinetron daily. The broadcasting strategy relates to tight deadlines (kejar tayang), where sinetron need to be recorded, edited and submitted in two days. This production mode responds to daily ratings, allowing television stations to modify the script and cast right up to the end of production.

The stripping method refers to a sinetron title aired daily during prime time, seven days a week by a television station. As an example where ratings are very high, Putri yang Ditukar (SinemArt) was aired by RCTI with four episodes back-to-back from Monday to Sunday. The sinetron aired for 676 episodes in its one year run. Such sinetron are produced very close to airing. This enables the television station to analyse daily ratings, identify which minute gained the highest audience, and attempt

67 to replicate the success in the next episode.10 The production team thus shoots an episode a mere day after the programming team’s sinetron content analysis is delivered. This often influences the plot within the sinetron as the next day’s script is adjusted to today’s ratings. This way, productions can also be cut rapidly if ratings continue to decline.

The method has been implemented in other countries with a thriving soap opera industry such as India, South Korea, and Latin America (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011). In Indonesia, the stripping method was initially implemented only during the 30 days of the Islamic fasting month with a possibility of extension, if the rating remained high, to 45 days. In 2007, RCTI tried its first sinetron produced with a stripping method, Candy (SinemArt). The stripping method occurred after the expansion of prime time from 7:00 to 9:00 pm to 6:00 to 10:00 pm. Television stations strategised how to engage the audience to sit in front of their television sets for four hours. ―We wouldn’t have enough sinetron episodes if we went with weekly sinetron‖ (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011). Therefore, sinetron titles were produced in order to maintain a loyal, daily audience.

Before the stripping method and prime time expansion, the four-hour daily prime time was filled with 14 different sinetron titles (two sinetron titles aired every day of the week). After the stripping method and prime time expansion, one sinetron title aired daily for four hours. The number decreased from 14 sinetron titles to a mere four titles per television station (one title during prime time) and the total number of episodes aired doubled (28 episodes).11 The emotional plots of formulaic sinetron worked well with the stripping method. ―The audience now do not have to wait a week to find out what happens to their favourite character. They can find out tomorrow‖ (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June 11, 2011). This method successfully built loyal audience through emotional engagement12 and cut production costs. The stripping method cut 25 percent of production costs while maintaining the profit margin received through advertising (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011).

10 ―We analyse which characters are saying what during what time, then we can find out which artist the audience likes best‖ (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011). 11 Achmad initiated the 6:00 to 10:00 pm prime time from the original 7:00 to 9:00 pm (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June 11, 2011). 12 Kurniawan said that sinetron’s convoluted plot becomes addictive to its viewers, making them willing to sit in front of the screen for hours (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June 11, 2011). 68

Constructing Class Taste

An integral determinant of the sinetron’s content is television ratings presented by Nielsen, the country’s only rating body. ―What Nielsen does is set an average for the television audience in Indonesia, not only in Jakarta. Nielsen’s data represents ten cities, and even so, Nielsen cannot claim that those cities represent the whole population of Indonesia because it only represents the ratings in 10 cities‖ (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011). Achmad reveals that Nielsen subsequently divides the audience into classes, based on the ownership of 10 to 15 household items, which includes a cooking stove, a washing machine, a private house, a private car, mobile phones, and air conditioners. ―We are not the A class but perhaps A++, which in Indonesia comprises of a very low (percentage), perhaps only 1 to 2 percent. ... With the A class comprising of 10 percent of the total population of the research, B class 10 percent, the C class 50 percent, and D class 10 percent. Indonesian television audience, based on the ten cities studied by Nielsen, mostly comes from the C class‖ (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011).13

Previous studies regarding the relationship between Nielsen’s audience classification and television production reveal that the content of Indonesian television is greatly determined by its larger C class (50 percent; Kitley, 2000; Barker, 2004; Ida, 2004). This has also been the accepted premise behind the popularity of sinetron programmes. However, in the past five years, television stations have found new ways to cater to as many audience classes as possible. ―This does not mean that we do not produce programmes for the A class audience. Television needs balancing, SCTV has Harmoni14 and it is viewed by the A class. The music is targeted for the middle-upper market with orchestra, sound, packaging, etc. So it’s not that the A class doesn’t watch television, but it’s definitely less than B and C class because they are fewer‖ (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011).

13 It is my understanding that the ―we‖ Achmad uses refers broadly to the educational and economic elites of the larger cities are not Nielsen’s A class and in reference to the criticism SET Foundation had towards the rating body. SET conducted a counter-rating research on popular programmes to challenge Nielsen’s methodology which led to starkly different results than Nielsen (―Inilah Lima Program‖, 2009). 14 Harmoni is a live televised music concert on SCTV that provides pop singers with an orchestra as their background music. 69

Achmad sees a connection between programme theme and class. Realistic programmes, of which Achmad mentions Wajah Indonesia15 and religious comedy sinetron such as Islam KTP16 and Para Pencari Tuhan, may represent the lower classes in society. However, because they tell real life stories, they attract viewers from classes A and B. ―Because these sinetron speak of the reality of life. Meanwhile, melodrama that seem luxurious, with expensive cars and lifestyles, beautiful people, extravagant jobs, are viewed by C, D, and E class audience. Why? Because it represents a dream that is unrealistic‖ (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011). Raam Punjabi made a similar point when he was accused of ―selling dreams‖ through formulaic melodramatic sinetron that often represent the wealthy upper class (Barkin, 2004, p. 120).

Sinetron Religi

The sinetron industry’s mode of production, programming, stripping, and class taste, became the breeding ground for the proliferation of Islamic themes in sinetron. However, it was the Ramadan television routine that actually inspired television stations to try out the four-hour prime time slot as well as the year-long stripping method. In this regard, an imagined Muslim audience is a significant recent development in the industry. Religi emerged as a steady trend within the sinetron industry over the past 12 years and has become a recurring theme from 2005 to 2010.

Sinetron religi became popular since the success and replication of Rahasia Ilahi (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011). Like generic sinetron, the number of episodes per title have increased in the past five years. Thus the total production volume of sinetron religi has increased. For instance, unlike the average 13 episodes per sinetron, sinetron religi Munajah Cinta aired for 92 episodes. Since 2005, Islam has become a recurring theme within sinetron production (see Figure 3.1), even more popular than teenage sinetron and only surpassed by the generic sinetron theme. Soon after, different kinds of sinetron religi mushroomed during prime time (Subijanto, 2009, p. 243). Other sinetron religi are a variation of the successful main theme of Islam, combining it with melodrama and comedy (see Figure 3.1).

15 Sinema Wajah Indonesia is a series of televised short films, some of which are directed by Aswendo Atmowiloto, Putu Wijaya, Taufik Damaring Tahir, Armantono and Deddy Mizwar, aimed to break down the current television trend and provide more ―Indonesian‖ content (Kurniawan, 2011). 16 Islam KTP (MVP) is a commercially successful sinetron religi, first aired in 2010, that falls into the genre of religious comedy show. 70

From the total of 2,700 sinetron titles aired between 2005 to 2010, 12.4 percent (335) are sinetron religi. Studying these hundreds of sinetron I was able to categorise them in three clusters according to certain common characteristics. Although it was supernatural sinetron religi that initiated the trend of sinetron religi, this success encouraged marrying Islamic themes with existing melodrama format. This also led to the production of more melodramatic sinetron religi by other television stations. In response to this commodification of Islam, Muslim actor, producer, and public figure Deddy Mizwar challenged these formats with his own interpretation of Islam, packaged with comedy (komedi religi).17 There is a connection between these three clusters of sinetron religi and the economic and social class of the audience, which is shaped by a gradual dynamic between ―the supplier, media organisation and audience‖ (Reese & Shoemaker, 1996, p. 104). In the case of sinetron religi, it was the airing by TPI (which she described as a television station targeting the lower middle class audience) of Rahasia Ilahi that initiated the trend of supernatural sinetron religi. TPI, through Rahasia Ilahi, targets the C and D class audience, consistent with Achmad’s claim that stations imagine a lower class audience to enjoy unrealistic representation. Melodramatic sinetron religi target B and C classes while religious comedy sinetron target A and B classes. There are several important aspects related to this finding.

Firstly, competing television stations have become segmented in relation to their targeted audiences (or Nielsen classification). RCTI and SCTV target the upper- middle market (A and B class audience). Trans7 and Trans TV target the middle market (B and C classes), while TPI and Indosiar target the lower-middle market (C and D classes). Secondly, the sinetron religi produced by each television station (subcontracted to a production house) imagines, through the television stations’ analysis of Nielsen ratings, the identity of the sinetron’s target audience that come from these specific classes. In doing so, they both construct class taste and identify the religious practices of their classified audience. Thirdly, the themes were formed through a process of rating interpretation which included both the values of television producers and managers as well as the television routine and

17 The success of Mizwar’s komedi religi also initiated a trend, with sinetron religi such as Islam KTP (2010) and Pesantren Rock and Roll (2011) both aired on SCTV. However, they were aired after the completion of my data collection, therefore could not be included in the analysis. These two sinetron religi, although attempting to apply the same comedy theme as Mizwar’s sinetron religi, are very different ideologically. Therefore, if they were included in my data, I would not place them in the same cluster. 72 organisation’s ideology. Lastly, this dynamic process established the connection between sinetron religi clusters with upper, middle, and lower classes of television’s imagined Muslim audience.

Clusters of Sinetron Religi

Hasan Noorhaidi (2009) examined three recent changes in Islamic culture that have taken place in Indonesia’s public sphere: piety, the emergence of agency, and the commodification of Islam. The latter, for Noorhaidi, includes film, television shows, and religious songs which relate to how ―Islam has become a part of an extensive consumer culture and served as much an important identity marker as a sign of social status and political affiliation‖ (Noorhaidi, 2009, p. 231). Before this recent change, Indonesian Muslims had demonstrated the vitality of their religious practice ―as a system of symbolic and collective identity that informs the social and political dynamics of the Indonesian society‖ (Noorhaidi, 2009, p. 230). After, the Islam shown on television, for instance, is less related to the larger socio-cultural discourse than it is about popular culture. This is because the latter promises better commercial appeal. I go beyond Noorhaidi by extending the commodification of Islam not only in its attempt to appeal to Muslims, but also the larger national market.

In the context of television’s commodification of Islam, the industry is both trivialising religious identity (Postman, 1985) and constructing a national-religious identity. To prove this, I analyse sinetron religi broadcast from 2000 to 2010 to identify a pattern characterised by the television industry’s mode of production (i.e. standardisation and homogenisation) that is not unlike Noorhaidi’s (2009) note on the three recent changes in Indonesia’s public Islam. This pattern, indicated through the sinetron religi’s format, plot, narration, visual representation, supported by interviewing sinetron producers, formed three distinctive clusters: supernatural, melodramatic, and alternative sinetron religi.

Supernatural Sinetron Religi

Until 2003, Indonesian sinetron were predominantly a variation of conventional global soap operas. In early 2004, inspired by a Malaysian magazine called Hidayah (God’s Guidance), a small production house called KEP Media initiated the

73 phenomenon of sinetron religi with their sinetron Rahasia Ilahi (God’s Mystery). TPI, for the first time, led audience share when airing this low-cost sinetron (Darmawan & Armando, 2008). The sinetron’s success baffled television producers for its conspicuous representation of supernatural events, lowbrow packaging (compared the standard format of sinetron), and particularly its blatant representation of Islamic rituals and supernatural occurrences.

Table 3.3 List of Supernatural Sinetron Religi (2005-2007)

Television Audience Amount Title Station Share (in percent) TPI 15.8 11 Rahasia Ilahi (God’s Secret), Takdir Ilahi (God’s Destiny), Mereka Ada Dimana-mana (They are Everywhere), Allah Maha Besar (God is Greatest), Dosa Tak Berampun (Unforgivable Sin), Jalan Keadilan (Path to Justice), Rahmat Ilahi (God’s Grace), KehendakMu (Your Will), HidayahMu (Your Guidance), Kusebut NamaMu (I Say Your Name). Indosiar 12.4 8 Hanya Tuhan yang Tahu (Only God Knows), Tawakal (Surrender), Mukjizat Allah (God’s Miracle), Padamu Ya Rabbi (To You Oh, God), Di Balik Kuasa Ilahi (Secrets of God’s Power), Di Balik Kuasa Tuhan (Secrets of God’s Power), Titipan Ilahi (God’s Trust), Misteri Dua Dunia (Mysteries of Both Worlds). SCTV 15.2 6 Astaghfirullah (God Forgive Me), Kuasa Ilahi (God’s Power), Kafir (Infidel), Suratan Takdir (Destiny), Iman (Faith), Jalan Takwa (Pious Path). RCTI 14.9 6 Tuhan Ada Dimana-mana (God is Everywhere), Jagalah Hati (Protect Your Heart), Maha Kasih (the Most Giving), Cahaya Surga (Heaven’s Light), Hikmah (Wisdom), Pintu Hidayah (the Door to Guidance). TransTV n/a 6 Taubat (Repentance), Istighfar (God Forgive Me), Hidayah (Guidance), Insyaf (Repent), Takbir Hikmah (Call of Wisdom), Hikayah (the Saga). ANTV n/a 5 Azab Dunia (Wordly Punishment), Sakratul Maut (Moment Before Death), Sinema Legenda (Legend Cinema), Jalan ke Surga (Way to Heaven), Nauzubillahi Min Zaalik (God Forbid). LaTivi 11.2 1 Azab Ilahi (God’s Punishment). Note. Adapted from ―Islam Representation in Religious Electronic Cinemas in Indonesia‖ by Nazaruddin, 2008.

By associating supernatural forces (alam ghaib) with Islamic rituals, the content of supernatural sinetron religi has similarities with the first type of religious reality shows18 whose popularity had peaked in 2003. However, since religious reality shows depicting supernatural events received public criticism and were finally prohibited by the Indonesian Broadcasting Commission (KPI), such religious reality

18 For more on Islamic theme in reality shows, see Chapter Two. 74 shows declined. This decline happened as the popularity of supernatural sinetron religi increased. The success of Rahasia Ilahi aired by TPI in 2005 initiated a trend of ―me too‖ programmes such as Hidayah, Kuasa Ilahi, Di Balik Kuasa Ilahi, Titipan Ilahi, and so forth (see Table 3.3).

The cluster of supernatural sinetron religi shares several main features. Firstly, the formats are self-contained, where each episode stands alone without any continuing plot between episodes. Secondly, the titles of the sinetron often deliberately refer to Islamic-related idioms; Rahasia Ilahi (Allah’s Mysteries), Hidayah (an Arabic term for ―God’s Guidance‖ absorbed into Indonesian), Takdir Ilahi (Allah’s Predestination), Tawakal (Arabic for Submission), and Sakaratul Maut (Arabic for the moment before death), to name a few. The titles signify that the sinetron speak largely of divine power and they are to be distinguished from the more general portrayal of ―angered spirits‖ in most Indonesian horror films (Heider, 1991; Gladwin, 2003; van Heeren, 2007).

Figure 3.2. Truth disclaimers in supernatural sinetron religi. Captured from the opening scene of Rahasia Ilahi and Hidayah.

Thirdly, each episode includes ―verified sources‖ to prove that they are based on true stories (see Figure 3.2). In the beginning of Rahasia Ilahi and Hidayah, for instance, a disclaimer mentions ―This story is a true account adapted from Hidayah magazine. The names and characters have been changed‖ and ―The story is adapted from true accounts of Hidayah magazine (The Islamic Digest)‖. These disclaimers, placed at the beginning of the show, signify validity and textual authority, particularly related to constructing the text as ―reality‖ while portraying supernatural occurrences through visual effects. The difference between supernatural sinetron religi and religious reality shows is the continuity of the narration (plot) that a sinetron can present. Whereas reality shows are muddled, without structured dialogues and stable camera angles. The interchangeability between reality and

75 fiction is best coined by the concept of ―hyperreality‖ (Baudrillard, 1988; Eco, 1986), where supernatural and subjective, if not biased, experiences are simulated as an ―authentic fiction‖.

The fourth feature lies in plot that portrays two extreme poles of good and evil (Nazaruddin, 2008, p. 26). Essentially, supernatural sinetron religi ―carry a formulaic story line in which sinners of all kinds (i.e. corrupt state officials and gamblers to a misbehaving son) will be punished by God with a very painful death (i.e. literally being burnt in hell, consumed by flesh-eating worms, to being swallowed alive by the earth)‖ (Taufiqurrahman, 2005). The plots are a narrative variation of three main character combinations: the antagonists (often referred to as sinner [orang yang berdosa] or kafir [infidel]) who are tortured or punished for their sins, the tested protagonist who is victorious in his or her journey to stay on the righteous path after surpassing temptation, and the antagonist who repents and is forgiven (often by an ustad; Nazaruddin, 2008, p. 11). Unlike religious reality shows where the host and/or ustad claims to sense spirits in a damned place and eventually performs local exorcism (so the audience rely on what the ustad claims to see), in supernatural sinetron religi, these occurrences are visualised (to signify divine power).

Table 3.4 List of Ustad or Ustazah Appearing in Supernatural Sinetron Religi

Title Television Station Ustad or Ustazah Rahasia Ilahi TPI Arifin Ilham Takdir Ilahi TPI KH Mustafa Yaqub, MA (MUI) Astaghfirullah SCTV Jefry Al Buchory and Yusuf Mansur Kuasa Ilahi SCTV Jefry Al Buchory Pintu Hidayah RCTI Luthfiah Sungkar

Note. Adapted from ―Islam Representation in Religious Electronic Cinemas in Indonesia‖ by Nazaruddin, 2008, p. 21.

The last feature shared is the appearance of an authoritative ustad to endorse the show (see Table 3.4). The ustad appears as a talking head and as a fictive ustad within the storyline; very similar to the kyai (a traditionalist Islamic teacher) that appears to restore order at the end of the film during the New Order (van Heeren, 2007, p. 219). The ustad is a celebrity preacher who also appears in other formats such as talk shows, live great zikir, televised Islamic music, live zikir, talk shows,

76 and as a jury in dakwah talent shows.19 The ustad or ustazah more often appears at the beginning of the episode (before the story starts) to explain, citing the Quran and Hadith, how such accounts should be interpreted.

Muslim establishments embraced the programmes (Syafirdi, 2008). MUI mulled over the idea of giving awards to TV channels that run them. The same award was considered for television stations and print media that made a contribution to celebrating the fasting month. Ismail Yusanto, spokesperson of Hizbut Tahrir, a hardline Muslim organisation, said that the religious shows breathed fresh air into television programming. In comparison, media scholar Veven Wardhana said that the religious programmes’ audience may well be non-Muslim viewers or Muslims who rejected simplistic and doom-laden interpretations of their religion. Supernatural sinetron religi gained currency only after the populace dealt with a series of natural disasters such as the Aceh tsunami and unbearable social ills such as endemic corruption. ―In the face of such incomprehensible calamity, people tried to escape from reality. They also grew desperate, as corruption remains unbridled. Religious programs are a kind of escapism,‖ he said (Taufiqurrahman, 2005).

Wardhana predicted that the trend would have a short shelf life once the audience grew tired. However, the supernatural theme in Indonesian popular culture has a long history. Religiously packaged supernatural portrayals have been present in film long before they appeared on the small screen.20 It is only logical that television producers, with less state control over content compared to the first ten years of commercial broadcasting, replicated a formula proven to endure in the film industry. Since 2002, it became a recurrent theme, travelling from one television format to another, ―because mysticism is of our culture‖ (H. Achmad, personal communication, July 8, 2011). Between 2002 and 2004, supernatural reality shows proliferated. From 2005 to 2008, supernatural sinetron religi thrived.

In 2008, the popularity of supernatural sinetron religi did finally decrease not due to loss of commercial appeal, but public criticism which eventually caused the KPI to prohibit all television stations from representing the supernatural or mysticism in

19 See Chapter Two for various television program formats that incorporate Islamic themes. 20 In some episodes that I saw, dukun or shamans were presented as evil. There seems to be some referencing to Javanese mysticism. For more on Javanese mysticism, see Woodward (1989) and Subagya (1976). 77 their programmes (Syafirdi, 2008). After this prohibition, a new trend of supernatural shows emerged in 2009, returning to the format of reality shows. The second type of religious reality shows, for instance programmes such as Realigi aired by Trans TV, Mohon Ampun Aku (Please Forgive Me) aired by ANTV, Pengejar Rahasia (Chasing Secrets) aired by ANTV, and (Masih) Dunia Lain ([Still] the Other World, a remake of Dunia Lain) on Trans 7 portray ―ordinary people‖ (not ustad) trying to solve their life crises in which divine intervention occurs. These programmes were still broadcast until 2010 despite receiving warnings from KPI.

Melodramatic Sinetron Religi

The second cluster of sinetron religi, the melodramatic sinetron religi, has longer history compared to supernatural sinetron religi. In 1998, Multivision’s Doaku Harapanku (My Hopes, My Dreams) was aired during the month of Ramadan, initiating an onslaught of copycat sinetron from other television stations. The phenomenon challenged the stations’ long avoidance of religiously-themed entertainment programmes. As years changed and the Ramadan sinetron became comfortably positioned during the prime time of the fasting month, the visualisation of Islamic teachings became more obvious each year. Television stations quickly learned that it was the main commodity.

The success of the film Ayat-Ayat Cinta (Verses of Love, hereafter AAC) in February 2008 had inspired television producers to adapt the format into sinetron religi (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June 11, 2011). The film was a notable departure from the numerous horror and teen films that crowded the resurgent film industry in Indonesia (van Heeren, 2008, pp. 20-21). To ensure commercial success, the production house of the film, MD, consulted with Muslim organisation Muhammadiyah to determine what was and was not permitted in an ―Islamic film‖ (―Layar Ayat‖, 2008). The film was not only commercially successful; it also received positive feedback from state officials, moderate Muslim organisations, and scholars. It achieved the second highest ticket revenue to date in Indonesia, viewed by a total of 3.5 million people (―Yuk...! Nonton‖, 2009). The audience was unusually not teenagers, but ibu-ibu pengajian (housewives who often attend neighbourhood congregational Quranic reading) and pesantren students (Endriana & Budianto, 2010). The film’s director, Hanung Bramantyo, says that he

78 chose the film because it represented Islam in a positive light, where ―Muslims are not associated with terrorism and fanaticism, but portrayed as people who practice tolerance, patience, sincerity and honesty‖ (van Heeren, 2008, pp. 20-21). The features that Bramantyo mention translate well with the plots often used in generic sinetron, particularly storylines which include the melodramatic romance story of a main protagonist entangled in a love triangle that is resolved by polygyny (more popularly termed polygamy in Indonesia).

Figure 3.3. Melodramatic sinetron religi promotional posters. Left: Cinta Fitri Season Ramadhan (MD) aired by SCTV (2007 to 2011). Right: Ketika Cinta Bertasbih Spesial Ramadan (SinemArt) aired by RCTI (2011).

Television producers tried to replicate the commercial success of AAC by adapting some features into the sinetron format in two ways. Firstly, by designing a sinetron version of the successful AAC. Secondly, by creating a Ramadan version of a previously successful generic sinetron (its title often followed by ―Ramadan Edition‖ [edisi Ramadan]). Melodramatic sinetron religi have several main features. Firstly, the title of the sinetron predominantly relate Islamic idioms with love, such as Ketika Cinta Bertasbih (When Love is Glorified), Munajah Cinta (Surrendering to Love), and Ramadan versions of successful generic sinetron, such as Cinta Fitri edisi Ramadan (Fitri’s Love Ramadan Edition). The titles indicate that the sinetron differ from generic sinetron, in their attribution of Islamic idioms.21 The table below illustrates the titles and amount of melodramatic sinetron religi, divided into designed melodramatic sinetron religi and Ramadan versions of generic sinetron respectively.

21 There are some overlaps between clusters. For instance, the title and content (plot) of SinemArt’s Pintu Hidayah (the Door to Guidance) suggest supernatural sinetron religi, but in format it is melodramatic sinetron religi. It also includes a sermon by female ustad Luthfiah Sungkar. The overlapping format never became as commercially successful. 79

Table 3.5 List of Melodramatic Sinetron Religi (2008-2010)

Television Amount Titles Station TPI 5 Kaidah Cinta, Ta’aruf, Buku Harian Menuju Surga, Mukjizat Cinta, Kun Faya Kuun 3 Rubiah edisi Ramadan, Siti Cinderella edisi Ramadan, Ta’aruf edisi Ramadan SCTV 5 Amanah Cinta, Annisa, Zahra, Rumahku Surgaku, Hafizah 27 Azizah edisi Ramadan, Cinderella edisi Ramadan, Cinta Fitri Season 2 edisi Ramadan, Cinta Fitri edisi Ramadan, Cinta Indah edisi Ramadan, Mutiara Hati 2 edisi Ramadan, Benci Bilang Cinta edisi Ramadan, Cinta Fitri Season 3 edisi Ramadan, Cintaku Berat di Ongkos edisi Ramadan, Cintaku Memanggil edisi Ramadan, Inikah Cinta…? edisi Ramadan, Kau Masih Kekasihku edisi Ramadan, Nadia edisi Ramadan, Pengantin Kecil edisi Ramadan, Cowok Impian edisi Ramadan, Kau Masih Kekasihku edisi Ramadan, Penyihir Cinta edisi Ramadan, Perawan Desa edisi Ramadan, Sahabat Sejati edisi Ramadan, Ande Ande Lumut edisi Ramadan, Atas Nama Cinta edisi Ramadan, Benar-Benar Cinta edisi Ramadan, Cewek Penakluk edisi Ramadan, Cinta Remaja edisi Ramadan, Gitu Aja Kok Repot edisi Ramadan, Gue Sihir Lu! edisi Ramadan, Jangan Pisahkan Aku edisi Ramadan, Kutunggu Cintamu edisi Ramadan, Rahasia Hati edisi Ramadan RCTI 21 Alisa, Aqso dan Madina, Assalamualaikum Cinta, Menanti Keajaiban Cinta, Munajah Cinta, Khanza, Safira, Aisyah, Cinta dan Anugerah, Doa dan Karunia, Kembang Surga, Manohara, Muslimah, Safa dan Marwah, Amanah dalam Cinta, Kemilau Cinta Kamila, Kemilau Cinta Kamila 2, Kemilau Cinta Kamila 3, Ketika Cinta Bertasbih, Hamba Hamba Allah, Mengintip Surga 27 Ada Apa dengan Cinta edisi Ramadan, Aku Bukan Untukmu edisi Ramadan, Bawang Merah Bawang Putih edisi Ramadan, Bukan Salah Bunda Mengandung edisi Ramadan, Habibi dan Habibah edisi Ramadan, Kapan Kita Pacaran Lagi? edisi Ramadan, Ratapan Anak Tiri edisi Ramadan, Soleha edisi Ramadan, Aisyah edisi Ramadan, Anak Cucu Adam edisi Ramadan, Anakku Bukan Anakku edisi Ramadan, Bukan Diriku edisi Ramadan, Cahaya edisi Ramadan, Candy edisi Ramadan, Fajar edisi Ramadan, Janji edisi Ramadan, Kakak Iparku 17 Tahun edisi Ramadan, Kembang Surga edisi Ramadan, Mawar edisi Ramadan, Ratu edisi Ramadan, Assalamualaikum Cinta edisi Ramadan, Cincin edisi Ramadan, Dewi edisi Ramadan, Gara Gara Cinta edisi Ramadan, Kecil-Kecil Jadi Manten edisi Ramadan, Ketika Cinta Bertasbih edisi Ramadan, Mutiara edisi Ramadan, Nikita edisi Ramadan Indosiar 16 Jihan, Muslimah, Syarifa, Tasbih Cinta, Amira, Dibalik Jilbab Zaskia, Hareem, Inayah, Mahabah Terindah, Mualaf, Tasbih Cinta, Baghdad, Nurjannah, Pernikahan Siri, Surga Untukmu, Takdir Cinta 3 Jihan edisi Ramadan, Beningnya Cinta edisi Ramadan, Surga Untukmu edisi Ramadan Trans7 2 Jalan Ilahi, Mata Air Surga ANTV 1 Pengantin untuk Anakku edisi Ramadan TransTV 2 Di Atas Sajadah Cinta, Menuju Surgamu TVRI 2 Amanah, Doa untuk Aisyah GTV 1 Hanya Kamulah Surgaku 115 Note. Compiled from Nielsen Sinetron Titles 2005-2010 and television station websites.

The second feature relates to the plots of the sinetron. The plot, which is centred on interpersonal relationships, either friendship, family (filial piety) and/or between a man and a woman (i.e. who eventually legitimise their relationship by getting married to demonstrate marital piety [menghalalkan hubungan]), is generally similar to the love plot of generic sinetron. The third feature, Islamic symbols, includes costumes (jilbab for females and baju koko [Malayan-Chinese shirt often used as a symbol of Islamic piety] for males), settings (e.g. mosques), and props (e.g. framed calligraphy on wall). What differentiates this second cluster of sinetron religi from the more typical Indonesian sinetron lies first in symbols and second in speech. The speech of the sinetron includes the names of the characters, usually Arabic names or with reference to the Quran, and speech (e.g. using the Islamic greeting Assalamu’alaikum [God be with you], Insya Allah [God willing], and Alhamdulillah [Thank God] to name a few).

Table 3.6 Sinetron Religi Produced by SinemArt (2008-2010)

Title Year Main characters Television Episodes Station Munajah Cinta 2008 Baim Wong, Rianti Cartwright, RCTI 92 Zaskia Adia Mecca Aqso dan Madina 2008 Marshanda, Dude Harlino, Ibnu RCTI 132 Jamil Doa dan Karunia 2009 Naysila Mirdad, Glenn Alinskie, RCTI 74 Dude Herlino Ketika Cinta Bertasbih 2010 Kholidi Asadil Alam, Oki Setiana RCTI 56 Spesial Ramadan Dewi, Andi Arsyil Rahman, Dude Herlino Kemilau Cinta Kamila 2010 Asmirandah, Jonas Rivanno, Mischa RCTI 365 Chandrawinata Amanah dalam Cinta 2010 Julie Estelle, Christian Sugiono, Ali RCTI 54 Syakieb Ketika Cinta Bertasbih 2011 Kholidi Asadil Alam, Oki Setiana RCTI 25 Meraih Ridho Ilahi Dewi, Andi Arsyil Rahman, Dude Herlino Kasih dan Cinta 2011 Tika Putri, Julie Estelle, Ashraf RCTI 25 Sinclair Dari Sujud ke Sujud 2011 Marshanda, Dude Harlino, RCTI 35 Asmirandah Air Mata Ummi 2012 Widyawati, Atalarik Syah Fathir RCTI 25 Muchtar Dalam Mihrab Cinta 2012 Dude Harlino, Meyda Sefira, Baim RCTI 49 Wong Karunia 2012 Marshanda, Mischa Chandrawinata, RCTI 63 Raya Kohandi Note. Compiled from SinemArt website and Nielsen Sinetron Titles 2005-2010.

The fourth feature relates to the actors and actresses playing the characters in melodramatic sinetron religi. One of the strategies implemented by production houses in Indonesia to lower costs is to use the same actors and actresses in generic sinetron and films they produce (see Table 3.6). As an illustration, the most popular actor and actress in melodramatic sinetron religi produced by SinemArt are Dude Harlino and Marshanda respectively. They are both amongst the most popular actors and actresses in generic sinetron (see Figure 3.4).

Figure 3.4. Actor and Actress Intertextuality. Upper right: Marshanda captured from Benci Bilang Cinta (2006). Lower right: Dude Harlino captured from Cahaya (2007). Both Marshanda and Harlino in Dari Sujud ke Sujud’s (From Worship to Worship; 2012) promotional poster, complete with Islamic attributes.

As the same production houses that create generic sinetron also create melodramatic sinetron religi, actors and actresses starring in them also star in other generic sinetron without jilbab and baju koko. These low-cost solutions often invite criticism from Muslim audiences who claim that the actors and actresses are not ―Muslim‖ enough, sometimes citing their personal lives that are frequently reported by infotainment shows. This third feature illustrates that, for the production houses, melodramatic sinetron religi is not aimed at dakwah, but, like Bramantyo’s AAC, seek to represent the peaceful, tolerant practices of Islam.

Figure 3.5. Hareem and Inayah. Left: Promotional poster. Right: Opening title for sinetron Inayah (right).

As an illustration, the sinetron Hareem received a warning from KPI after the commission considered MUI’s protest about the programme (Wulan, 2009). MUI claimed that Hareem contained verbal and physical violence and was blasphemous towards Islam. Although KPI only warned the station to move Hareem’s time slot, the production house, Soraya Intercine, changed the title of the sinetron (perhaps to change its image) to the name of its main protagonist, Inayah. The characters subsequently no longer wore jilbab and baju koko and/or other clothing attributes that indicate a sinetron religi (see Figure 3.5). All characters (including the actors and actresses playing them) remained the same.

The Alternative Sinetron Religi

In the early 1990s, prominent Muslim film producer, director, and actor Deddy Mizwar, had felt that the content of Indonesian sinetron and film did not yet reflect its majority Muslim population (D. Mizwar, personal communication, May 24, 2011). He expressed his concerns that sinetron religi were judgemental, extremely ―black and white‖, and not educational (―Deddy Mizwar‖, 2010). His concern was shared by colleagues in theatre and film, as well as Islamic scholars. After consulting with prominent Islamic scholars K.H. Alie Yafie and Quraisy Shihab, he decided to produce films and television series with religious substance, but which were also high in production quality and entertaining. In 1997, Mizwar founded Demi Gisela Citra Sinema or Citra Sinema. In contrast to most production houses that were established to answer the demands of television stations, Citra Sinema was founded to produce Islamic sinetron and film for Islamic propagation (dakwah; ―Lahir untuk Mengisi‖, 2009). This is the significant difference between sinetron produced by Citra Sinema with other production houses. Instead of incorporating Islam in

83 sinetron to attract a Muslim market, Citra Sinema uses the existing popular sinetron format to promote religious values.

Since its founding, Citra Sinema has produced critically-acclaimed, commercially successful sinetron religi and films that have also been praised by the President. In 2005, President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono invited Mizwar and his crew to the presidential palace in appreciation for their sinetron religi Kiamat Sudah Dekat (The End is Nigh), particularly for producing good-quality series that support national education (Subijanto, 2009, p. 3). In 2009, the same sinetron won the Isodel Award, granted by the Department of Education’s Centre of Information Technology for television shows with educative themes (Liputan 6, 2008).

In the period where other production houses were producing copycat programmes of supernatural sinetron religi (2005–2008), Mizwar won the Best Director award from the Indonesian Sinetron Festival (Festival Sinetron Indonesia, FSI). Mizwar’s commercially successful sinetron were praised nationally and internationally, by both the public and by state representatives, for contesting the television industry’s dominant representation of Islam, and for portraying the lives of the majority of Muslims in Indonesia (Subijanto, 2009, p. 3). In 2008, another sinetron religi produced by Citra Sinema, Para Pencari Tuhan (God’s Seekers—PPT), received international attention at the International Drama Content Festival (Confesta) in Japan (Liputan 6, 2008). The sinetron won a Special Award for Foreign Dramas, for its originality and success in gaining public attention. Mizwar explains below:

The story is a strong factor taken into account. That’s why PPT is seen as unique. Our social problems are seen [by Confesta] as a something worth revealing. The problem is whether or not we are willing. The current trend in Indonesia demonstrates that television drama does not reflect our nation. It is not who we are. Now we need to think of ways to break free from the mindset that we have to produce commercially successful films. We should think of how to make good films. Even if we tried to make commercially successful films we might not succeed, so we might as well make a good one (Liputan 6, 2008).

The third cluster of sinetron religi shares several main features. Firstly, the titles of the sinetron, such as Lorong Waktu (Time Tunnel), Gerbang Penantian (Moment of Truth), Demi Masa (The Time), and Para Pencari Tuhan (God’s Seekers) refer to Islam in implicit ways. For instance Demi Masa, which literally

84 translates to ―On Behalf of Time‖ is the title of one of the chapters in the Quran. The title Para Pencari Tuhan suggests that the sinetron represents a pursuit to find God. The titles of this third cluster imply a struggle or effort (jihad) to practice Islam.

Table 3.7 List of Alternative Sinetron Religi (2007-2009)

Television Station Year Titles SCTV 2007 Kiamat Sudah Dekat edisi Ramadan Kiamat Sudah Dekat 3 Lorong Waktu 2 Lorong Waktu 2 edisi Ramadan Lorong Waktu 4 Lorong Waktu 4 edisi Ramadan Lorong Waktu edisi Ramadan Para Pencari Tuhan Para Pencari Tuhan edisi Ramadan SCTV 2008 Lorong Waktu 5 edisi Ramadan Para Pencari Tuhan Jilid 2 Para Pencari Tuhan edisi Ramadan Rinduku Cintamu SCTV 2009 Para Pencari Tuhan Jilid 2 edisi Ramadan Para Pencari Tuhan Jilid 3 Para Pencari Tuhan Jilid 3 edisi Ramadan Note. Compiled from Citra Sinema website.

The second feature lies in the content of the sinetron. Firstly, most of the sinetron produced by Citra Sinema reveal ―the narrative of the struggle (jihad) of a Muslim in defining their piousness based on their level of piety and knowledge of Islam. Struggle is a crucial discourse here in that it allows the characters to oscillate between making errors and doing good deeds‖ (Subijanto, 2009, p. 22). Secondly, along with this ―oscillation‖, comedy is often used to normalise ―cognitive dissonances‖ (Festinger, 1957). The alternative sinetron religi shows characters that often laugh at their own ignorance which is then remedied by learning more about Islamic piety through Quran, Hadith, and fellow Muslims. Thirdly, the setting is centred on the portrayal of families and communities coming from the lower socio- economic classes. Settings include urban kampung, small alleys, shelters, street hawkers, and families trying to survive on limited income (see Figure 3.6).

Figure 3.6. Stills from Kiamat Sudah Dekat (2003). Broadcasted by SCTV, the show portrays characters that live in Jakarta slums.

Lastly, in contrast to the binary oppositions of black and white characters in both supernatural and melodramatic sinetron religi, there is no clear protagonist and antagonist in alternative sinetron religi. For instance, even characters of authority, such as ustad, are represented as not always knowledgeable of Islam. The ustad in this cluster deviates from the general representation of preachers in Indonesian television programmes.

Although in the context of the sinetron, Citra Sinema is the only well-known production house to produce alternatives to the mainstream, there are some others. The propagation of a ―friendly‖ Islam, which often includes the portrayal of the marginalised, is to some extent also performed by a subsidiary company of Mizan Publishing,22 Mizan Productions. Their first film was Laskar Pelangi (The Rainbow Troops), based on a book by Andrea Hirata, which tells the story of poor students in a Muhammadiyah school in Belitong. The film was a huge commercial success, praised by critics and state officials alike. In 2009, Mizan Productions produced the sequel to Laskar Pelangi, Sang Pemimpi (The Dreamer) and other films such as Emak Ingin Naik Haji (Mum Wants to Go on the Hajj) and Garuda di Dadaku (Garuda on My Chest). The characteristics of the films produced by the company, as well as the people involved on the Board of Directors,23 suggest that the production house also creates alternatives to mainstream Islamic commodification from within the industry’s structure.

22 Mizan Publishing was founded by Haidar Bagir in 1983 to produce Islamic books that disseminate different and developing Islamic schools of thoughts. Having achieved commercial success, the holding company, Mizan Publika, launched dozens of other business units in other media sectors, including film (Mizan Production; ―About Mizan‖, 2007). 23 Mizan Productions’ Managing Director and Mizan Publishing’s Vice President Putut Widjanarko, regards his work is a ―calling‖ (P. Widjanarko, personal communication, July 18, 2009). 86

Conclusion

I have illustrated in this chapter how the proliferation of Islamic themes has occurred within Indonesia’s sinetron industry. Four important aspects are revealed in relation to the industry’s commercial logic and the religious content of sinetron religi. Firstly, like generic television programmes, sinetron religi are clustered into themes that appeal to specific classes of its targeted Muslim audience. Class taste is here interlinked with religious identity. Through supernatural sinetron religi, in which supernatural occurrences are tamed by divine intervention, television is deployed to construct the religious identity of the C and D classes. Melodramatic sinetron religi appeals to the B and C classes in which religious identity is practiced in personal, romantic spaces. The alternative sinetron religi construct a religious class taste that positions Islam within realistic problems of daily life, which appeals to the industry’s class A audience. Bordieu has argued taste functions to signify class. However, while he distinguishes class taste based on the composition of economic and cultural capital that each group possesses (1986, pp. 128–129), this chapter reveals that the structuration of the sinetron industry constructs taste that signifies class based on religious capital (Giddens, 1984).24

Secondly, the alternative sinetron religi is created as part of its producer’s agency (Giddens, 1984). This last cluster of sinetron religi challenges Adorno and Horkheimer’s (1977) culture industry thesis (that is so often cited in explaining Indonesia’s television industry) which posits that a cultural product lose its authenticity when it attains an exchange value. Conversely, it also supports Hesmondhalgh’s (2007) ―cultural industry‖. Citra Sinema performs agency within the structure of the sinetron industry, which demonstrates that there is a ―degree of freedom‖ (Verstraeten, 1996) within the commodification of communication (Mosco, 2009). The Islamic identity of its producer is the vehicle through which this agency is performed (dakwah). This finding is more in line with notions that although media economy does not determine cultural practice, it does limit cultural expression (Williams, 1981).

Thirdly, such extensive representations of Islam in the content and format of sinetron religi, particularly in the three clusters I have revealed, reflect Noorhaidi’s (2009)

24 Capital here relates to critical, Islamic knowledge, to which I will return in Chapter Four and Five). 87 observations on the emergence of Islamic culture in Indonesia’s public sphere. The features of supernatural sinetron religi show the most obvious references (piety) towards Islamic dogmas; the features of melodramatic sinetron religi (also the only cluster that is produced through stripping) show the most obvious commodification of Islamic symbols; while alternative sinetron religi perform ―dakwah agency‖ (Noorhaidi, 2009). Unlike Noorhaidi, I posit that all sinetron religi are, first and foremost, commodities for the main reason that they would not receive air time if they had no ―exchange value‖ (Mosco, 2009).

All three main findings reveal that, in contrast to the more regulated content of sinetron under the New Order, the rise of Islamic themes in sinetron resulted from the symbiosis between media economy and religious imperatives. Economic force is not deterministic, as agents within the structure are able to contest dominant representations. The next chapter, thus, looks at the micro-level production of sinetron religi and the differences between each cluster.

88 CHAPTER FOUR

PRODUCING POPULAR PIETY

In the past ten years, there have been public debates surrounding the Islamic rituals portrayed during Ramadan that argue for Islamic programmes to serve dakwah purposes and are against blatant commodifications of Islam (Subijanto, 2009; Saefulloh, 2009; Fakhruroji, 2010). The contradictory position between television for religious propagation (Ali, 2003; Fatmawati, 2009) and ―pseudo-religion‖ (Postman, 1985) is apparent in the production of sinetron religi, as demonstrated in this chapter. What both positions seem to fail to notice, however, is that while Islamic themed programmes may at some times be praised for their ―constructive‖ Islamic content (―MUI Apresiasi‖, 2012), they are never free from commercial interests. This general acceptance by television producers, who are also dakwah agents, firstly places constraints on how or what can be propagated to a national audience through sinetron religi.

This chapter, thus, answers the question of how the television producers‘ imagination of their targeted national Muslim audience manifests through production-centred practices (Levine, 2007, p. 133). It looks at the industry and religious constraints or ―how the various aspects of the production process contribute to texts‖ (Levine, 2007, p. 135), which include ideology (Gramsci, 1971), extramedia forces (coming from outside of the individual media organisation), public organisations, and media routines, as well as individual agency (Shoemaker & Reese, 1996, p. 101).1

In order to answer the question, I narrow the scope to the production of three sinetron religi representative of the characteristics of each cluster. The select sinetron religi are also created by the more dominant production houses and aired by television stations specialising in sinetron broadcast (Nugroho et.al, 2011).2 For the

1 Unlike in Shoemaker & Reese‘s (1996) concentric circle model, there are no definitive levels that determine the production of sinetron religi. Islamic values, for instance, play significantly on individual and extramedia levels, but not on media routines, which is positioned between. I return to this later in the chapter. 2 See Chapter Three for explanation about sinetron religi clusters, dominant sinetron production houses, and television station specialisations.

first cluster, supernatural sinetron religi, I selected Hidayah (MD), which was produced and aired from 2005 to 2007 by Trans TV. I selected Munajah Cinta (SinemArt) for the cluster of melodramatic sinetron religi, aired by RCTI in 2008 to 2009. For the cluster of alternative sinetron religi, I selected Para Pencari Tuhan that was aired in Ramadan 2008 by SCTV. Based on the pitching process of a sinetron (to a point where it is broadcast on television) as well as industry practices that lead to the success of a ―themed sinetron‖ (in this case, sinetron religi), the television stations (particularly the programming team) determine which theme should be selected for a sinetron. Sources corroborate that producing a sinetron religi or a generic sinetron is not very different. This suggests that in its production sinetron religi follow the industry logic of the sinetron industry.

Hidayah

The commercial success of Rahasia Ilahi in 2005 led other production houses to release copycat programmes that implemented the successful formula. MD produced a replica of Rahasia Ilahi entitled Hidayah.3 Hidayah was first aired on Trans TV in 2005 as the first attempt made by a larger production house, predominantly producing melodramatic sinetron, to replicate the success of Rahasia Ilahi. As with its predecessor, each episode of the sinetron stood alone as an individual story, with no connection to other episodes. The sinetron narrated real life stories related to the consequences of those failing to practice Islam, based on Malaysian Hidayah magazine (see Figure 4.1).

Figure 4.1. Hidayah Magazine August 2005 cover4 and sinetron Hidayah promotional poster.

3 MD is also the production house which released the film Ketika Cinta Bertasbih (When Love Extols) ―an epigone‖ of the film AAC. 4 Corpse Flying Above (Jenazah Melompat Ke Atas). 90

The head scriptwriter of Hidayah was Hilman Wijaya while director Gul Khan directed the sinetron.5 In each episode, Hidayah depicted different stories, which predominantly portrayed unexplained occurrences, unfortunate events, ill- fated individuals, bizarre happenings around burial ceremonies, mysterious diseases, and victims of black magic (Herman, 2005; Dwita, 2005). Although presenting different stories, each episode emphasised a palpable moral message:

So that we can acquire God‘s guidance [hidayah] from each story presented. So we are protected from malicious things that are condemned [by God]. The audience may witness at the end of each story, how evil characters receive punishments for what they have done (―Sinopsis ‗Hidayah‘‖, 2009).

Unlike some of the supernatural sinetron religi, Hidayah did not include an ustad explaining the relationship between the story the audience is about to see or have seen (depending on whether the ustad appeared at the beginning or end of each episode) with Islamic teachings based on the Quran and the Hadith. Instead, at the beginning of each episode, it is stated that the story is based on a real event as published in the magazine Hidayah. The disclaimer positioned the sinetron as an authoritative text, similar to the function of the ustad’s appearances in other supernatural sinetron religi.

Hidayah was aired every Saturday and Sunday afternoon (1:30 to 3:30 pm) for two hours per episode. The episodes were aired between 2005 and 2007 on Trans TV and rerun in 2009 on TPI with 13 percent and 10 percent audience shares respectively (Nielsen Indonesia, 2009). On 21 February 2007, the contract between Trans TV and MD ended and Trans TV continued its production. The name was changed into Sinema Hidayah, but the content and production practice of Hidayah were mainly the same (J.E. Katili, personal communication, April 29, 2011). The opening theme and closing credit titles, for instance, remained the same throughout 2005 to 2007, including in the 2009 reruns on TPI. The opening titles were still photos of pages from the original Hidayah magazine upon which the sinetron is based (see Figure 4.2).

5 Hilman Wijaya is a famed writer known for his commercially successful Lupus series. Based on several sources, Gul Khan is of Indian nationality and was hired to monitor the production of the first episodes. 91

Figure 4.2. Stills from Hidayah magazine used as montage for opening titles of Hidayah.6

The theme song of the sinetron remained the same from 2005 to 2009 (entitled Hidayah) and was written by Top 40 pop songwriter Chossy Pratama and sung by actress and singer Desy Ratnasari. The song‘s melodramatic pop instrumentation (i.e. guitar, drums, keyboard) was juxtaposed with a bridge of Quranic recitation leading into the chorus. There was essentially no change between the production team in Hidayah and Sinema Hidayah aside from the title and the duration of the programme (reduced from two hours to one hour; H. Rustianto, personal communication, January 15, 2011). Therefore, I treat both Hidayah and Sinema Hidayah as the same text.

Various sources I interviewed claim that the success of Rahasia Ilahi from 2003 to 2005 established sinetron religi as the highest rated type of sinetron. Hidayah was pitched by MD to Trans TV to replicate this success. It was initiated by a cooperation between the producing company and Hidayah magazine on which the series was based (J.E. Katili, personal communication, April 29, 2011). The creative team decided which stories from the magazine could be reproduced as a sinetron (particularly technically, e.g. if the setting of the story is affordable), then the scriptwriter was commissioned to work the television script. The script, particularly those parts that involved sensitive religious interpretations, was then approved by K.H. Acep Nurhasan, mentioned in the credit title under ―religious advisor‖ (penasehat agama; J.E. Katili, personal communication, April 29, 2011). After the ustad approved the script, the production team began shooting.

6 Left: article entitled ―Protruding Tongue Close to Death‖ (Lidah Menjulur di Ujung Usia). Right: article entitled ―Corpse‘s Bluish Back, Full of Bruises‖ (Punggung Jenazah Berwarna Biru dan Penuh Memar). 92

The director and productions manager I interviewed were aware that MD is part of an industry and that sinetron religi is its product. During its peak of popularity when it was aired daily, eight to ten Hidayah production teams went out shooting simultaneously. There is only three core or in-house Hidayah production teams, while the other six to eight teams were hired to produce other sinetron. To manage costs, they were engaged to produce some of the ready-to-shoot scripts. Sources claim that it is difficult to estimate the actual production cost of one Hidayah episode because many of the crew were hired freelance and work on other sinetron as well, but a rough estimate would be 5 to 10 million Indonesian Rupiah (US$ 520 to 1,050) per episode without cast fee (D. Rusmana, personal interview, June 23, 2011). To the production workers I interviewed, Hidayah is similar to any other sinetron they produce. The Islamic theme is a cultural attribute, another means to achieve ratings. The producers had no intention of delivering religious messages. ―The endings are very simplistic and tend to deliver the negative side of spiritualism where the characters are punished for their bad deeds‖ (D. Rusmana, personal communication, June 23, 2011).

In contrast, another Hidayah director, Katili, thinks that Hidayah is a very educative show. He revealed how Hidayah had inspired his relatives in Sulawesi to become better Muslims. ―It means that what we have produced has an impact on society‖ (J.E. Katili, personal communication, April 29, 2011). Despite Katili believing in the religious significance of the show, he is aware of the industry‘s interest in the production of Hidayah. ―I think they are just a trend, such themes. It‘s just because that‘s what‘s needed [to survive]. I think television stations and production houses do not missions. They are not trying to deliver a message to a Muslim audience by producing Islamic themed shows. MD is not owned by Muslims. If folklore becomes a trend, then they will produce folklore‖ (J.E. Katili, personal communication, April 29, 2011). In the opinion of the sources that I interviewed, producing a generic sinetron and a sinetron religi is exactly the same. ―The only difference lies in the fact that in producing sinetron religi we need the approval of an ustad‖ (D. Rusmana, personal interview, June 23, 2011).

Munajah Cinta

To represent the cluster of melodramatic sinetron religi, I have selected the first sinetron that attempted to repeat the success of AAC by reproducing it as a sinetron.

SinemArt claimed that Munajah Cinta was the first sinetron religi to air throughout the year (not only during the Ramadan; Haryanto, 2008). The sinetron was first aired on 4 May 2008 and by its first week it had successfully topped Nielsen‘s Top 10, with a 16 percent audience share. Rianti Cartwright and Zaskia Mecca, who both appeared in leading roles in the film AAC, play the two main female characters in Munajah Cinta (see Figure 4.3).

Figure 4.3. SinemArt promotional poster for Munajah Cinta.

Munajah Cinta (Surrendering to Love) is a sinetron produced by SinemArt, which had also produced AAC in the stripping format. The one-hour sinetron was aired by RCTI at 8:00 pm (prime time). It was directed by Widi Wijaya who is known for his work in the commercially successful teen sinetron Inikah Rasanya (Is This How It Feels). The series is produced by SinemArt founder Leo Sutanto and written by Sadidah El Mughni. The three main characters are: Attar, played by Baim Wong, who is better known for his antagonistic roles in Benci Bilang Cinta (Love- Hate Relationship) and sinetron religi (of the same cluster) entitled Soleha; Khumaira, played by Rianti Cartwright; and Maemunah, played by Zaskia Adya Mecca (―Sinopsis ‗Munajah Cinta‘‖, 2008).

The general plot involved Attar falling in love with his childhood friend Khumaira. To win her over, he began studying Islam in a small village under the supervision of Khumaira‘s uncle, kyai Sidik. As he was travelling to the village where kyai Sidik lives, Attar meets Maemunah, a village girl who helped him find the kyai’s address. Attar and Maemunah developed a relationship, creating a love triangle between Attar, Khumaira, and Maemunah. Harsiwi Achmad, who during the airing of the

94 sinetron had been RCTI‘s Programming Director, stated that Munajah Cinta reached Nielsen‘s 10 highest rating sinetron with a 15.7 percent audience share.

Figure 4.4. Stills from Munajah Cinta opening title.

The opening theme of Munajah Cinta follows the standard format of generic sinetron (i.e. the theme song is played over shots of the main characters), with the exception of several scenes where the main characters are practicing Islamic rituals. The rituals depicted are the wudhu (washing before prayers), the reading of the Quran, and praying (see Figure 4.4). The theme song of the sinetron is entitled Takkan Berpaling Dari-Mu (Never Turn My Back on You),7 written by a member of top 40 rock band Jikustik, Icha, and sung by pop singer Rossa. Aside from the lyrics, the song is essentially a replication of the standardised formula of successful melodramatic love songs in Indonesia.

Munajah Cinta was produced using the stripping method. In its conception, the idea was to produce a sinetron religi about polygamy to replicate the success of the film Ayat-ayat Cinta. The production planning began by assigning Widi Wijaya, MD‘s in-house director, as the director. The main reason for this, according to production designer Indrayanto Kurniawan, was because Wijaya is a Muslim. The main scriptwriter writer, Lintang P. Wardhani,8 on the other hand, was selected mainly because Munajah Cinta is designed to highlight the female perspective, so a female writer was chosen. The choice of a female scriptwriter was also to distinguish Munajah Cinta from Ayat-ayat Cinta, which had a male perspective of polygamy (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June, 11 2011). A combination between melodrama and religion, the story centred on ―various types of love. Some are

7 The ―You‖ (in ―Never Turn My Back on You‖) refers to God, as the Indonesian title uses a capital ―M‖ in ―–Mu‖ which signifies God. However, the expression itself is often placed in a romantic context (Never Leave You). 8 The name mentioned at the credit titles of the sinetron is Sadidah El Mughni. It is generally known that in order to maintain their credibility, producers, writers, directors of sinetron use a pseudonym when they are part of a production of a predominantly commercial sinetron. This suggests that the writers are ashamed for ―selling out‖. 95 forced, some are genuine, some are suicidal. That‘s where the title Munajah Cinta came from. How love is surrendered [dimunajatkan]‖ (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June 11, 2011). After SinemArt‘s owner, Leo Sutanto, approved the design the production team created its pilot episode, which, like Hidayah, was screened by several ustad to check whether the sinetron was in accordance to Islamic views.

Some of the names mentioned during the interviews were ustad Mansyur, Neno Warisman and ustad Jefri—all of whom are regarded as celebrity preachers.9 The reason for selecting these ustad was less related to their interpretation of Islamic texts than their prior involvement in other television programmes produced by SinemArt (D. Suryani, personal communication, June 11, 2011). This suggests that the ustad are also ―commodified labour‖ (Mosco, 2009), not unlike actors, actresses, in-house directors, and production teams. Only the first episode was previewed to ustad Mansyur because, with the stripping method, it was not possible to conduct continual ustad previews. Ustad Mansyur gave positive feedback and praised Munajah Cinta.

There were two production teams for Munajah Cinta. The first was the core team and the second a back up team (tim bayangan; B. Hutabarat, personal communication, May 10, 2011). Because of its stripping method, the shooting results went directly into editing within a few hours. The actors and actresses, who have tight schedules, often had to be filmed separately despite being in the same scene (D. Suryani, personal communication, June 11, 2011).

Another implication of the stripping method was that it enabled the production team, by analysing ratings, to realise that polygamy was not widely accepted by the sinetron audience. ―We failed to identify that polygamy is not acceptable to the majority of Indonesians. It is one thing to portray a love triangle, but it‘s another when it is legitimised by wedding vows‖ (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June 11, 2011). The script was adjusted accordingly, from a ―positive portrayal of polygamy‖ to include subplots in which the main characters‘ relatives face their own personal dilemmas. The subplots were created to even out the conservativeness of its main religious theme.

9 I explain about televised celebrity preachers in Chapter Two. 96

Para Pencari Tuhan

The last category of sinetron religi, alternative sinetron religi, is represented by Citra Sinema‘s most notable sinetron: Para Pencari Tuhan. I chose the second season for its national and international praise, from the Department of Education and Confesta awards respectively. Although the second season did not achieve as high an audience share (30 percent) as it did on its first run in 2007 (35 percent), it was in its second year that the sinetron received greater critical acclaim.10 The sinetron’s second run was also closer to the year when both Hidayah (2005 to 2007) and Munajah Cinta (2008) were aired. Para Pencari Tuhan was aired on SCTV during Ramadan 2008 on 3:00 to 5:00 am and its rerun is on 6:00 to 7:00 pm.

Figure 4.5. Promotional poster for Para Pencari Tuhan.

Para Pencari Tuhan (or PPT for short) is a sinetron directed by Deddy Mizwar, who is also the owner and founder of its production house, Citra Sinema. The script was written by Wahyu H. Sudarmo, who is also the scriptwriter of Citra Sinema‘s Mat Angin, Lorong Waktu, and Gerbang Penantian, to name a few. The sinetron was described as ―religious comedy‖ by both Mizwar and sinetron producers, and included religious moral messages that was aimed to be non- judgemental (tidak menggurui; ―Para Pencari Tuhan‖, 2009). The sinetron, which continued production until 2012, explored social issues against a backdrop of Jakarta‘s urban kampung life. It focused on several individuals who believe in God and seek for an ideal, philosophical approach to religion (Chen, 2008).

10 The audience share illustrates how popular Para Pencari Tuhan 2 was during Ramadan, not throughout the year. I note that the placement of the sinetron is different. Hidayah and Munajah Cinta are aired throughout the year whereas Para Pencari Tuhan 2 is aired only during the fasting month. 97

The first season of PPT told the story of a caretaker of a small mosque or musholla named bang11 Jack (Deddy Mizwar) and his three ex-convict students named Chelsea (Melki Bajaj), Barong (Aden Bajaj), and Juki (Isa Bajaj). The three actors who played Chelsea, Barong, and Juki comprise the comedy group (grup lawak) Bajaj12 who gained popularity for being the winners of TPI‘s comedy-talent show Audisi Lawak TPI (TPI Comedy Audition; ―Grup Bajaj‖, 2007). Bang Jack‘s religious knowledge (ilmu agama) is shallow, which causes him to err in implementing his religion. A beautiful kolak13 seller who also oversees a free-of- charge library, Aya (Zaskia Mecca), often guides him because she is more knowledgeable on religion. Aya is also the sister-in-law of ustad Ferry (Akri Patrio), who is the leader of the musholla. These main characters are maintained in its second season, with an addition of Baha, who is played by Tora Sudiro who first gained fame from the comedy-sketch programme Extravaganza. Baha, a heavily tattooed alcoholic fisherman, is Asrul‘s childhood friend. Further development in the plot includes bang Jack training Barong, Juki, and Chelsea to take care of the musholla as he plans to leave for the hajj and Aya and Azzam‘s Islamic publishing company (―Info Program‖, 2008).

Three 20-minute quizzes (telekuis) appeared at the beginning, middle, and end of each episode. The telekuis, where callers phoned in their answers as they waited for the Subuh prayers on 5:00 am, awarded the winners millions of rupiahs in each episode. After the first telekuis, the opening theme of PPT begins with pop band Ungu’s (Purple) Dengan NafasMu (With Your Breath), which is an upbeat pop rock ballad that contains religious lyrics about believing in God. The upbeat tone contrasts with both Hidayah and Munajah Cinta’s melodramatic tone to their theme songs. PPT‘s theme song plays over close ups of the main characters playing their roles in the sinetron. There is a more nuanced attribution to Islamic ritual compared to Munajah Cinta, presenting more of an array of activities done by the main characters—most, but not all, of them carrying Islamic attributes (see Figure 4.6).

11 The function of Bang in PPT is to express respect and endearment. Bang (short for Abang) is a term used to call an older male in Betawi culture. It is usually employed for calling an older brother or used by a wife to a husband. 12 Bajaj is also an Indonesian three-wheeled motorised trishaw. 13 Kolak is a sweet desert commonly used to break the fast in Indonesia. 98

Figure 4.6. Characters from Para Pencari Tuhan. Left: bang Jack with a peci and unbuttoned baju koko. Middle: the jilbab-wearing Aya. Right: The three main ―God- seekers‖: Chelsea, Barong, and Juki.

Like Citra Sinema‘s overall dakwah purpose, PPT was conceived because of Mizwar‘s concern (kegelisahan) over the content of Indonesia‘s sinetron. “Indonesian sinetron did not reflect the majority of Muslims in the country. Film mirrors the society within which it is produced, but religion was absent there. The first principle [of the Pancasila] says ―Belief in the one and only God‖, but religion was absent. Even though 90 percent of Indonesians are Muslims, there were no mosques, no churches‖ (D. Mizwar, personal communication, May 24, 2011).

According to PPT‘s only scriptwriter, Wahyu H. Sudarmo, the main factor behind the ―quasi-religion‖ or religious trivialisation in sinetron religi is because the creative team behind the production does not understand religion. ―Neither do we, that‘s why we consult with Islamic scholars‖ (W.S. Sudarmo, personal communication, May 19, 2011). Unlike Munajah Cinta, whose team consulted with celebrity preachers with whom they have worked in other shows, the PPT creative team consulted with university-educated Islamic scholars. These included a lecturer in Arabic language from the National University (Universitas Nasional/UNAS) Abbas Muhammad Basalamah and IAIN Syarif Hidayatullah Islamic scholar Farel Rizqy (who was mentioned as part of the creative team in the sinetron’s credit title).

During its conception, the team pitched the idea to Dito Sulistiadi, then the Head of SCTV‘s Production Division. Sudarmo believed it was the creativity and commitment of the team that resulted in the approval of the programme, although the main purpose of television programme directors is primarily to air profitable programmes. Once PPT proved to be marketable, the sinetron was reproduced each Ramadan. After writing each episode, Sudarmo handed the script over to the ustad for approval, to make sure that none of the content was misleading. ―Although raising controversial topics could be attractive, there are many things to consider. Some are too sensitive and might jeopardise religious tolerance. My concern is that

99 there may be misinterpretations. There is always a risk that the audience treats the sinetron as an information source‖ (W.S. Sudarmo, personal communication, May 19, 2011). According to Sudarmo, the creative trick is to normalise religious and/or social controversy with humour.

Aside from getting approval from Islamic scholars, Deddy Mizwar also studied the scripts and monitored the director for technical reasons. Mizwar sought to completely understand and have full control over the production process (K. Dzikrillah, personal communication, May 24, 2011). He previewed the script, chose the actors, taught the director how to interpret the script and translate it visually. Mizwar was very thorough in selecting a scriptwriter and director whose religious and aesthetic views align with his own and with his idea of PPT. While Mizwar selected the scriptwriter and director based on Islamic values, he selected the cast based on professional talent and skill. Producers that I interviewed all claim that it was Mizwar‘s authority that kept the integrity of the production process, particularly in quality.

The production of PPT centred on Sudarmo‘s scripts. If he did not finish a script at a designated date, then the shooting process was postponed until the script was finished. This slowed the volume of sinetron production. Because Citra Sinema‘s sinetron were guaranteed to be commercially successful based on past experiences, television stations requested more episodes and/or sinetron titles. Sudarmo mentioned that the team receives requests from television stations for more sinetron titles from Citra Sinema, even to air them throughout the year (not only during Ramadan). However, the production house‘s commitment to text validity prevented them from becoming more dominant in the landscape of sinetron religi.

One strategy taken by Citra Sinema in maintaining this text validity while attempting to maintain profitability is through product placement.14 Every PPT episode that I have seen contains a product placement, among others Antangin herbal medicine, Oli Top 1 motor oil, and ABC household goods. Sudarmo mentioned that they created the script around an Islamic teaching in which a product can be placed. He illustrated with an episode in the first season, where PPT‘s ustad character would not receive

14 Product placement refers to products that are prominently depicted within the plot of a film or television series in order to advertise them. 100 cash payment after a sermon because Islam prohibited someone requesting payment for propagating Islamic teachings. ―An ustad can receive pay, but they cannot set a fee. So usually when we invite an ustad, we‘d say, ‗Here you go, ustad. Not much, but enough to buy toothpaste‘. Ustad Ferry, an honest ustad, discusses with his wife if he really should buy toothpaste with the money he had received. Trying to be amanah (trustworthy), he buys one million rupiah [US$ 110] worth of toothpaste and distributes them throughout the village. Enzim toothpaste was the sponsor‖ (W.S. Sudarmo, personal communication, May 19, 2011).

Cluster Commonality and Constraints

The production of all three sinetron religi followed a production practice shaped by the dynamics between television stations, production house practice, sinetron producers, and crew. The main factor behind these determinants was the sinetron industry‘s media economy. Interviews revealed that there are some commonalities in producing sinetron religi of different clusters, while at the same time particular sinetron practices determined how these differences shaped its ideological content and aesthetics.

Ustad Authority

Within their production process, Hidayah, Munajah Cinta, and PPT sought the approval of ustad. The reasons behind seeking such approvals, however, differ. During the production of Hidayah, MD selected the ustad for the primary purpose of approving the Islamic content of Hidayah. The ustad, K.H. Acep Nurhasan, was not a celebrity preacher neither has he ever appeared in any other MD-produced television shows. Interviews revealed that the ustad’s approval was required to avoid criticism because the production team did not comprehend Islamic rituals. The ustad mainly corrected things such as the pronunciations of Arabic sentences, whether or not a Quranic recitation was correct, and/or Islamic funeral practices. Katili claimed that the ustad was not always present on set. When Nurhasan was unavailable, he accepted phone calls and sometimes sent his assistant.

The role of the ustad in Munajah Cinta, on the other hand, was only to view and approve the first episode of the sinetron. The ustad involved were those present in

101 other SinemArt-produced television shows, with whom good contact had already been established. There was no selection process or ideological consideration in selecting the ustad from the production team. ―We were working with Neno Warisman in Pintu Hidayah. With sinetron religi, we need an ustad or ustazah to determine the limits to which we can go (pakem-pakemnya sejauh mana). Ustad Mansyur was involved in Maha Kasih‖ (D. Suryani, personal communication, June 11, 2011). However, unlike Hidayah, none of the names of the ustad appeared on the credits of Munajah Cinta and neither did they correct any of the sinetron’s content.

In the production process of PPT, the ustad’s role was the most substantial. Compared to Hidayah’s one ustad who was sometimes substituted by his assistant and Munajah Cinta’s three ustad and ustazah who only approved the pilot of the show, there were five Islamic scholars involved in approving every PPT episode script. ―They re-evaluate PPT‘s religious substance. Generally Indonesians are Muslims. Particularly, while Muhammadiyah Muslims might think something is valid, NU Muslims might think otherwise‖15 (W.H. Sudarmo, personal communication, May 19, 2011). While ustad in Hidayah and Munajah Cinta set the limits of what is ―least objectionable‖ (Klein, 1979), ustad in the production of PPT verify the validity of Islamic interpretation visualised in the show: particularly in the context of ensuring adherence to dominant Islamic practice in Indonesia.

Although there are differences in the role of the ustad in ―approving sinetron religi‖, in all production practice they are seen as a figure of religious authority. Similar to the disclaimer at the beginning of each supernatural sinetron religi (i.e. based on true story), an ustad’s endorsement gives a sinetron religious authority, whether as a marketing strategy (i.e. Hidayah and Munajah Cinta) or scholarly Islamic interpretation (i.e. PPT). The production process of sinetron religi, although these sinetron deliver very different messages, required an endorsement from religious authority. Their producers did not see these religious aspects as essentially ―cultural‖. With varying degrees and interest, those involved in the production of sinetron religi (in this case television station programming and the production house) perceived the sinetron as religious texts that are propagated through a ―cultural

15 Sudarmo was referring to the two largest Muslim organisations in Indonesia, Muhammadiyah and NU, which are often at odds in Islamic rituals. A classic example, which is often played as a daily joke, is different Idul Fitri dates (both organisations practice different methods of calculating the calendar for the end of the fasting month). 102 industry‖ (Hesmondhalgh, 2007). In this case, Munajah Cinta showed the least relationship with wanting to propagate Islam. The producers of this sinetron, unlike Hidayah and PPT, adjusted their Islamic content (polygamy) to market taste. Hidayah acquired the ustad‘s help to maintain the ―accuracy‖ of Islamic rituals to avoid controversy and the ustad involved in PPT production ensured accountable, scholarly interpretation for Islamic propagation.

In Hidayah and Munajah Cinta, religious endorsement was motivated by ―deep risk aversion‖ (Barkin, 2004), through maintaining the ―economy of appearances‖ (Tsing, 2001). The former is to engage as wide an audience as possible and the latter to avoid conflict that may give rise to public criticism. In PPT, religious endorsement was required for checking the validity of Islamic texts interpreted and visualised in the sinetron. All three sinetron religi, however, acknowledged the authority of the ustad which influenced the production and content of sinetron religi. This Islamic authority is emphasised by commercial interest (i.e. Hidayah and Munajah Cinta) and Islamic views (i.e. PPT). However, despite this difference, the authority is believed to increase the value of the sinetron and they are only as useful as they are commercial.

Risk Avoidance

The second commonality between the three sinetron religi is that the producers were guided by their ideological predisposition in deciding what can or cannot be shown. Although there is government media policy to regulate television content,16 none of the producers referred to this regulation when explaining why they conducted self- regulation on sensitive issues. ―Our government is still feudalistic, conservative in terms of [content], which has to provide good. Lessons are both good and bad. But our government, our censorship body, is not like that‖ (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June 11, 2011). Kurniawan alludes to the view that Philip Kitley identifies as ―the audience as childlike‖ (2000, p. 83), where the audience is seen as needing guidance. In contrast, Kurniawan positioned ―audience as market‖ (Kitley, 2000, p. 94).

16 The Broadasting Code of Conduct and Standards of Broadcast Programs (Pedoman Perilaku Penyiaran dan Standar Program Siaran/P3SPS). 103

The positioning of ―audience as market‖ defines what issues are too sensitive to be represented in sinetron religi. These are issues that are related to ―SARA or much too confrontative (memojokkan) towards a religious group‖ (D. Rusmana, personal communication, June 23, 2011). The sinetron producers‘ view of the ―audience as market‖ guided the production of each sinetron religi in different ways. In Hidayah, the producers avoided overtly sensitive issues to ensure efficiency. In pre- production, the ustad’s approval was the first risk control. However, in some cases, the director could ―go too far‖ (nyeleneh) which may then require censoring in the editing process or cutting out scenes (D. Rusmana, personal communication, June 23, 2011). This post-production content control suggests that this risk aversion was practiced through media routine (Barkin, 2004; Shoemaker & Reese, 1996).

The production of Munajah Cinta, like Hidayah, was also guided by commercial interest. While Hidayah production avoided SARA, Munajah Cinta avoided explicit sexual content (obscenity). ―There was a scene about marital relations but we have to show it visually to the audience. Beforehand, we discussed how we should represent it. We finally decided to set the characters on a bed, with the help of camera tricks. We moved the angle away. People would understand, so we wouldn‘t need to picture it explicitly‖ (B. Hutabarat, personal communication, May 10, 2011).

Although Munajah Cinta, like most melodramatic sinetron religi, shares common characteristics with generic sinetron, its Islamic packaging limited permissible male- female physical contact. ―We shouldn‘t violate existing norms, particularly since this is related to religion. It‘s a public show with norms. Morality needs to be upheld because it‘s related to religion. [How] to remain attractive without stirring conflicts (pro kontra)‖ (B. Hutabarat, personal communication, May 10, 2011). What is allowed in generic sinetron, such as hugging or holding hands, had to be displayed more ―modestly‖ in sinetron religi, because of its Islamic theme (D. Suryani, personal communication, June 11, 2011).

In contrast to Hidayah and Munajah Cinta producers‘ view of ―audience as market‖, PPT producers positioned ―audience as childlike‖ (―There is always a risk that the audience treats the sinetron as an information source‖). Scriptwriter Sudarmo mentioned that there is a risk that the audience treats the sinetron as an information source; therefore producing sinetron religi comes with the responsibility of

104 presenting religious messages verified by Islamic scholars. ―If you want to write about politics, you would have to understand [politics]. I learned Islam through reading the Quran here and there. In writing, I‘m not an expert. That‘s why PPT has high-quality content, because I am not the sole writer. I am not an Islamic scholar. I am supported by a team of qualified Islamic scholars who were hired because of their knowledge‖ (W.H. Sudarmo, personal communication, May 19, 2011). While Hidayah and Munajah Cinta avoided commercial risks through media routine practice, PPT production avoided the risks of religious misinterpretation through organisational practice (i.e. ustad pre-approving scripts).

Conclusion

Although previous researchers of Indonesia‘s sinetron industry have argued that sinetron production is directed primarily by economic-materialism (Ida, 2006; Barkin, 2004), this chapter reveals that in sinetron religi this is less so. Its religious packaging allows some contestation between Islamic ideologies and commercial interest. The different ideologies behind sinetron religi production have revealed several findings.

Firstly, sinetron religi from each cluster were endorsed by different parties to support their political positions. The proliferation of supernatural sinetron religi was praised by hard line Muslim organisations and melodramatic sinetron religi praised by moderate Muslims. The alternative sinetron religi, which was formed in contestation towards the first two clusters (describing the other two as religious trivialisation), is endorsed by state representatives and international communities. Thus, extramedia groups (Shoemaker & Reese, 1996), such as Muslim organisations, state representatives and institutions, and even international festivals, endorsed particular sinetron religi clusters and/or shows. This suggests that they use sinetron religi to emphasise their own political positions. In their production, however, none of these extramedia groups influenced content (not even KPI). The ustad had significant roles in all three productions. In Hidayah and Munajah Cinta, the ustad’s role is to endorse the religiosity of the sinetron (commercial interest), while in PPT the ustad approved the scholarly accountability of the script (Islamic values). These different motifs guide the production process that operates within the production house.

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Secondly, dakwah agents practice a degree of individual autonomy in response to the dominant ideologies and this, in turn, results in some contestation between sinetron religi produced by MD, SinemArt, and Citra Sinema. At the same time, they are interlinked in the religious-cultural industry. Despite ideological differences, they employ the same workers (e.g.. Zaskia Adya Mecca played in both Munajah Cinta and PPT). The ustad involved in Munajah Cinta are celebrity preachers popularised through other television shows and the Bajaj group starring in PPT was actually discovered through a comedy talent show.

Thirdly, the routines of the television industry, that involve the business relationship between television station and advertisers in which the audience and ratings are commodified (Mosco, 2009), impose the main business framework of sinetron religi production. Commercial interest influences the content of Hidayah and Munajah Cinta through television routine (i.e. ustad endorsement and editing). At the same time, although operating under the same television routine, the Islamic values that guides PPT production (and positions their audience as children) influences content through its organisational dynamic (i.e. Mizwar‘s authority, Islamic scholar pre- approving script, and product placement). The former avoids taboo topics to ensure commercial value while the latter avoids religious misinterpretation to perform dakwah. Different operating dominant ideologies in the production process of sinetron religi influence their content in different ways, which I describe in detail in the next chapter.

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CHAPTER FIVE

THE POLITICS OF PIETY

Studies that look at the competition of meaning among groups, or the ―politics of representation‖ in media texts (Barker, 2003; Wenden, 2005), generally reveal the ―struggle for power, between those who seek to assert and maintain their power and those who seek to resist it‖ (Chilton & Schaffner, 2002, p. 5), or the dichotomy of domination and resistance (Foucault, 1982). These approaches, however, do not explain how commercial interest limits or liberates Islamic symbols within the text. Thus, this chapter examines sinetron religi as the space within which Islamic representation is commodified for commercial interest or dakwah. An extension of the previous chapter, which had revealed that there is a tension between commercial interest and Islamic values in the production of sinetron religi, Chapter Five examines how this tension influences the content of Hidayah, Munajah Cinta, and PPT.

By focusing on the layers of constructs, namely representation, identities, and relations (Fairclough, 1995, p. 5), I identify in each sinetron religi cluster their discursive formation (Foucault, 1972, p. 37). In doing so, I employ television textual analysis (Burns & Thompson, 1989). This method examines the style and narrative structure that was a result of the institutional routines to understand how the sinetron producers imagine their audience. In that, these texts are in no way final and are subject to potential polysemic reading (which is why the next chapters deal with viewers’ interpretation). The textual analysis of sinetron religi is useful to understand the ―construction, regulation and contestation of cultural classifications through the temporary stabilization of meaning‖ (Barker, 2003, p. 445). I also call this the ―politics of piety‖ (Mahmood, 2007), which I elaborate later in the chapter.

The Hidayah, Munajah Cinta, and PPT sinetron episodes analysed in this chapter are sourced from the Foundation of Media Development for Children (Yayasan Pengembangan Media untuk Anak /YPMA)’s television monitoring from 2005 to 2008.1 I analyse 37 out of the total 182 Hidayah episodes aired by Trans TV (2005 to 2007), 87

1 YPMA was appointed by the Indonesian Broadcasting Committee (Komisi Penyiaran Indonesia—KPI) to record all programmes related to Islam during those years. I collected the episodes from YPMA and YouTube episodes and verified them against Trans TV’s programming schedule (see Appendix 5.2) for Hidayah and YPMA, Tabloid Nova, and Tabloid Bintang for Munajah Cinta and PPT. 107 out of the 92 Munajah Cinta episodes aired by RCTI (2008), and 24 out of the 26 episodes of PPT aired by SCTV (2008).2

Hidayah

Based on my viewing of 37 episodes of Hidayah listed in Appendix 5.1, Hidayah episodes are centred on the personal experience of Muslims, positioned as binary oppositions of good and evil. All of the protagonists are tested by economic problems, either successfully returning to the righteous path or finally driven to their doom at the end of the episode. Economic issues emerge as well through social relationships between economic classes, in which unfair treatment by other Muslims are resolved through divine intervention.

God is with the Poor

In several episodes the protagonist is tested by wealth and status. The test lies in whether or not the protagonists can remain under God’s guidance despite them being materialistically satisfied. Those who fail in this test are gradually entangled in drug problems, hedonistic lifestyles, and adultery. In most episodes, however, the protagonist is tempted to stray because of poverty. Initially, the protagonist tries to escape poverty and, in successfully doing so, is finally assailed by greed. The plot usually ends with the characters being blinded by their newfound power, failing to practice Islam, and abusing the poor. One of the episodes that best illustrates this is the episode entitled ―Eye of Corpse Unable to Close‖.3

The episode tells the story of a poor family with a drunk of a father who commits adultery with married women. The eldest of four daughters, Yanti, started off as a devout Muslim. Yanti reminded her father of his sins and his responsibility to look after her younger sisters. She prays to God for her father to repent and for the safety of her family. One day, a car hits her sister Anita on her way home from school. Unable to pay for hospital fees, Yanti desperately begs for money from a friend and rushes back to the hospital only to find that Anita has died. The hospital refuses to release the corpse if the patient’s family does not pay the hospital bills. Throwing the borrowed money at a

2 Complete list of Hidayah, Munajah Cinta, and Para Pencari Tuhan episodes available in Appendix 5.1 and 5.2, Appendix 5.3, and Appendix 5.4 respectively. 3 Indonesian title Sebelah Mata Mayat Tak Bisa Dipejamkan (see Appendix 5.1). 108 nurse’s face to pay for the release her sister’s corpse, Yanti renounces God. As a consequence of this action, her health deteriorates. Just before dying, Yanti begs for God’s forgiveness. At her funeral, the gravediggers were unable to bury her corpse. The dirt continues to disappear mysteriously and the grave remains uncovered. The ustad asks the villagers to forgive Yanti’s sins. After voicing that they have let go (ikhlas) and forgiven Yanti and her debts, Yanti is successfully buried.

The plot of this episode, and most others, centres on trials in the protagonist’s life that would not have happened had they not lived in poverty. Their social identity as members of a low socio-economic class, brings social problems as a consequence of that limited income. The settings of most episodes illustrated the lower socio-economic status of the protagonists. For instance, Yanti lives in a small house with cement floors, other episodes show a mother dressed in a modest traditional house gown doing her washing and cleaning by hand, street hawkers (pedagang kaki lima), and a humble kitchen (see Figure 5.1).4

Figure 5.1. Stills captured from Hidayah.

Those who come from a higher socio-economic class more often subordinate characters portrayed as coming from lower socio-economic class. God’s will aligns with the will of the poor and suffering, and consequently, the upper class characters receive

4 From episodes ―Stomach Swells Close to Death‖ (Perut Membesar Menjelang Ajal) and ―Both Legs Severed for Kicking Mother‖ (Dua Kaki Putus Akibat Tendang Ibu) respectively (see Appendix 5.1). 109 severe punishment for their actions. However, only when those who suffer forgive the sinners can their soul continue to the after-world. In the episode illustrated above, formal institutions are portrayed as inhuman and heartless. Divine intervention punishing those who have sinned and caused suffering to the poor becomes a hope that justice can be restored, even if formal institutions fail to impose it.

Religious Authority

Several social relationships are commonly repeated in different Hidayah episodes: the relationship between ustad and congregation,5 interclass relationships, and relationships within families (between husband and wife [marital piety] and between parents and children [filial piety]). The relationship between ustad and congregation portrays the stereotypical role of the kyai in Indonesian film and television programmes (van Heeren, 2007, p. 213); male, middle-aged, wearing a headdress (peci), male Muslim blouse (baju koko), and a scarf on his shoulders (Hoesterey & Clark, 2012; see Figure 5.2).

Figure 5.2. Headshots of ustad in Hidayah.6

The ustad appears at the beginning of the episode, leading the burial of the protagonist’s corpse. He is the person who first acknowledges the peculiarity of the protagonist’s posthumous condition; particularly the fact that the bizarre condition is related to his or her sins. The storyline then flashes back to the deceased’s life, which is the main plot of the episode. The ustad appears again as the storyline arrives at the present, where he calls for forgiveness from families and relatives who have suffered because of the deceased’s past mistakes. The supernatural event resolves as his or her soul rests in peace and travels to the after-life.

5 Throughout the series, ustad are interchangeable with pak haji, which means one who has completed the Hajj pilgrimage, and kyai. 6 Taken from episodes aired on 12 September 2005, 8 November 2005, and 11 November 2005. 110

The ustad also appears within the storyline, usually as a mediator and/or to end a conflict, always complete with clothing attributes to indicate his status, never as a civilian (see Figure 5.3). In another episode,7 as the protagonist, a burglar dies in pain and the ustad asks those present to pray so that his spirit may rest in peace. A police officer, there to capture the burglar, abides with the ustad’s request and also prays for the burglar (see Figure 5.3). The scene suggests that the ustad’s authority supersedes that of the police officer, placing religion above the state. Soon after the ustad finishes leading the prayer, the police resumed his duty and his state authority restored.

Figure 5.3. Ustad in Hidayah mediating a fight8 and leading a prayer.

The second social relationship that is commonly repeated in Hidayah is the socio-economic interclass relationships between upper-middle class and lower-middle class characters. The former is visualised by luxurious cars, huge mansions, and abundant jewellery for women. Often, characters that come from the upper class are the antagonists of the story. Only in one episode was a character from the upper-middle class, Darman, depicted as a devout Muslim and a generous employer who is concerned about the welfare of his employees (and is also a loyal husband and father).9 His wife, Minah, tries to sway her husband to increase profit by reducing company benefits to employees, to which her husband declines as it is ―not God’s way‖. In other episodes the upper class abuses their socio-economic underclass and are portrayed as one- dimensional, heartless people who would justify any means to achieve their monetary ends and, by doing so, renounce God (see Figure 5.4).

7 Indonesian title ―Corpse Turns to Dog for Mocking Mosque Calling of Prayer‖ (Sering Mengejek Adzan di Masjid Meninggalnya Berubah Jadi Anjing; see Appendix 5.1). 8 In episode ―Grave Filled with Skeletons for Stealing Relative’s Land‖ (Merebut Tanah Saudara Kuburan Dipenuhi Tulang; see Appendix 5.1). 9 From episode ―Lice Infested Corpse‖ (Kutu Keluar dari Jenazah; see Appendix 5.1). 111

Figure 5.4. Still from Hidayah episode, depicting an abusive upper-class antagonist.10

The third social relationship is the family that is always portrayed as a religiously legitimate institution (i.e. parents are practicing Muslims, married, and raising Muslim children). Appearing as part of the family are filial and marital relationships. With very few exceptions, most episodes portray filial and marital conflicts in which children and wives are portrayed as arrogant and materialistic. In the case of marital conflicts, wives are portrayed as frequently wearing revealing clothing (memamerkan aurat), obsessed with appearance, enjoying the attention of other men, and seeking extramarital affairs.

These characteristics are triggered by their financial independence. Upon facing such characteristics, the devout husband (the antithesis of the wife who mocks her husband’s reverence towards God) prays to God for forgiveness. The husbands represented in Hidayah are generally patriarchic figures who sometimes lose their religious authority to financially independent wives. This authority is restored after the husband asks for God’s forgiveness for not being able to ―lead his wife to the righteous path‖ (memimpin di jalan yang benar). The argument between husband and wife in one episode below serves as an illustration: 11

Dede (husband): So you only married me because you thought I would do anything you say? You never appreciated how hard I work for this family? Tari (wife): Have I ever asked you to work? Or have I ever asked you for money? No! You know why? Because I can make my own money. I can become a model or a sinetron actress. My parents are also rich, if I needed money I could ask them. So you can’t tell me what to do.

10 From episode ―The Rich Snob becomes a Servant‖ (Si Sombong Kaya Raya Jadi Babu; see Appendix 5.1). Only two episodes did not portray the husband as a devout Muslim, see episodes aired on 23 November 2005 and 13 October 2005. 11 Original Indonesian version available in Appendix 5.5. 112

The dialogue above suggests that Tari is entitled to defy her husband because she is financially independent from him. The profession that she chose as an example related this financial independence more with beauty and appearance rather than hard work. It also suggests that the husband can only exercise his religious authority if he had financial authority. The argument ends with Tari leaving the house to go to her lover, while Dede prays to God for strength and courage to endure this test (melewati cobaan). Like marital conflicts, filial conflicts in Hidayah are also caused by financial issues.12 In a scene between Rina and her mother, her lifestyle is criticised for being too hedonistic and materialistic, which is, according to Rina’s mother, a sin.13

Mother: God forgive our sins [in Arabic], Rina, remember your sins, child. Rina: You don’t have to talk about sins, Mother. Don’t you realise that this is entirely your fault? I want to be like my friends. Riding air-conditioned cars, buying expensive clothes, dining at fancy restaurants. Can you give me all of that?

The scene ended with Rina leaving the house, proclaiming that her mother has no control over her since her mother does not provide sufficiently for her. At the end of these episodes, God punishes the wife and daughter for their disobedience so they suffer from an incurable mysterious disease. As they are dying of the disease, the husband forgives his wife’s sins and the mother forgives her daughter, allowing both to rest in peace. The social role of the mother and husband in Hidayah is positioned as one of authority over children and wives. Financial autonomy challenges this religious authority, but divine powers intervene and resolve the chaos.

Divine Intervention

There are several important issues in Hidayah. Firstly, the characters in Hidayah who defy religiously authoritative figures (e.g. ustad, husbands, mothers) are condemned by God at the end of each episode with mysterious, incurable diseases or sudden death. This hierarchy of authority is centred on family as a religiously legitimate social institution and on interclass relationships. In the case of the former, marital relationships are patriarchal and filial relationships are matriarchal. In marriages, the husband leads

12 From episode ―Your Child, Your Sin‖ (Anakmu Dosamu; see Appendix 5.1). 13 Original Indonesian version available in Appendix 5.6. 113 the wife and by defying her husband, a wife is defying God. In the case of filial relationships, a child defies God if he or she offends the mother; evoking the Hadith that ―Heaven lies under mother’s feet‖ (Surga di bawah telapak kaki ibu). The citing of the Hadith gives religious authority to these figures, legitimising their power. However, regardless of the nature of the conflict, the trigger for such defiance is often financial. The financial autonomy gained by the wife and daughter became their weapon to defy religious authority. This defiance is quickly stabilised by the authoritative figures regaining their power through supernatural occurrences.

Mothers and husbands who lose authority over, respectively, their children and wives, are comparable to the suffering poor in that they are devout Muslims trying to stay on the righteous path. They finally achieve the justice they deserve through divine intervention, otherwise impossible in social reality. In response, their chaos is resolved by supernatural powers. When authoritative figures lose their power or the poor are abused by socio-economic power (i.e. the upper-class) there has been a disorder in the social structure, and to restore this order, divine intervention is necessary.

Secondly, the polarisation between good-bad and unreal or improbable resolutions in the storylines of Hidayah is not novel. In providing improbable solutions to de- marginalise the poor and stabilise social authority, Hidayah offers religion as the only salvation or escape. This notion aligns with Achmad’s explanation of Nielsen’s class C audience and escapist content.14 While generic sinetron imagine a lower-middle class that escapes reality into the worlds of fictitious upper-middle class characters,15 Hidayah offers religious content as a means to restabilise social injustice (that is perceived by its producers as part of the identity of its targeted audience) through fictitious divine intervention.

Thirdly, another pattern in Hidayah shows that formal and/or state institutions are helpless in assisting the poor. In one episode, a company’s struggles to provide financially for employee benefits are related to the state’s policy of reducing the petrol subsidy put into effect on 1 October 2005.16 In several episodes, hospitals are portrayed as merciless towards patients who are unable to pay for their medical bills, causing

14 Chapter Three provides more on how television programming constructs class-based audience taste. 15 Chapter Three provides more on escapist content in generic Indonesian sinetron, 16 Indonesian title ―Lice Infested Corpse‖ (Kutu Keluar dari Jenazah; see Appendix 5.1). 114 more suffering in their lives.17 In relation to the protagonists’ helplessness in surviving a system that does not side with the poor, divine intervention protects those who are exploited and neglected by people who abuse their authority within an unjust social system. A general distrust towards formal institutions is what leads the main characters to find solutions to their problems. The root cause of their problems, as in the case of family conflicts, is poverty (which positions the protagonists as oppressed by an unjust system). Antagonistic characters consult shamans (dukun) and protagonists consult ustad. In between, doctors and law enforcers have limited power to solve the problem.

Dukun and ustad are polarised in Hidayah as evil and good respectively. The polarisation of dukun and ustad as evil and good was a formula shaped in the film industry during the New Order to avoid censorship (van Heeren, 2007, p. 219). Interviews with Hidayah producers also suggest that the appearance of ustad is related to their own commercial risk avoidance. This reveals that while textual constraints (what may or may not be represented in regards to the supernatural) remain, they are now reacting towards different ideological pressures.

Likewise, there is never an open battle between dukun and ustad. Instead, the battle between good and evil lies between the main characters and their social surroundings. Black magic provided by the dukun is considered shirk (idolatry) or polytheism or bid’ah (heresy) by modernist Indonesian Muslims (Mujani, 2003, p. 99).18 But in Hidayah, black magic manifests in response to institutional failures. This suggests that the role of the dukun relates to the moral panic surrounding fears that these institutions are ―threats towards a functioning social system‖ (Ferzacca, 2001, p. 223). The ustad, for instance, advises the protagonist to seek the advice of doctors, and if unsuccessful, surrender to God. When this does not work, the protagonist goes to a dukun. The strained relationship between modern Islamic practice and old authentic ways is stabilised by a fictitious power that supersedes both ustad and dukun and is limited to the protagonists’ individual (and private) religious experience.

Munajah Cinta

The main plot of Munajah Cinta lies in the love triangle between Attar, Khumaira, and Maemunah (all three of which are Arabic names). The values referred to as Islamic

17 See episodes aired on 10 October 2005, 19 September 2005 and 5 September 2005 (Appendix 5.1). 18 Mundayat (2005) gives an explanation on the difference between black and white magic. 115 teachings relate to a solution for the complex romance between the three characters involved in a polygamous relationship. This relationship is projected in characteristics that often appear in generic plots, such as jealousy and possessiveness. Because of its Islamic reference, a difference is that the characters try to reach a consensus within this triangle, particularly in sharing wealth and time. This personal conflict is resolved by submitting to God’s will, in which Islamic symbols are generously portrayed.

Muslims, Rich or Poor, are Equal before God

Most of the main characters’ problems are related to their romantic life. Each episode includes at least one of the main characters praying, with full praying attire, for forgiveness (ampun), sincerity (keikhlasan), and submission (berserah diri; see Figure 5.5). When praying to God (most often by Khumaira’s character) a Middle Eastern song plays in the background.

Figure 5.5. Stills of Khumaira, Attar, and Maemunah praying to beg for God’s mercy.19

The representation of Islamic teachings practiced by the main characters has more reference to how Islam is being practiced in the Middle East than was the case in Hidayah. For instance, before marriage, Khumaira refuses to shake Attar’s hand for he is not her muhrim thus not allowed physical contact.20 Khumaira’s conservative Islamic practices (along with the Middle Eastern instrumentation that accompanies her prayers) suggest that there is a relationship between Khumaira’s character and Islamic purity. This purity, however, is confined to the main characters’ private space. Outside of the main romantic relationship between the three characters, the physical contact between men and women in public spaces, for instance, is much more casual. There is no

19 Stills taken from episodes 42, 69, and 20 respectively. 20 Represented in episode 11. In the Quran, muhrim refers to those of the opposite sex with whom one is not allowed to marry, such as siblings, maternal cousins, etc. In practice, however, the word has transitional meaning in Indonesia to refer to those of the opposite sex with whom one may not have intimate contact (bukan muhrim). 116 division between men and women in public spaces (e.g. male hawkers conduct trade with housewives casually and men and women mingle in their office activities).

Attar and Khumaira come from wealthy, urban families while Maemunah comes from a poor, rural family. Like generic Indonesian sinetron, the setting of Munajah Cinta involves large mansions, luxurious cars, and executive offices. These settings are contrasted against Maemunah’s naiveté as she first arrived in Jakarta seeking Attar. Maemunah’s inexperience with modern appliances provided comic relief, both Attar and Khumaira finding her endearing for being so innocent and traditional. Although she is inexperienced, Attar and Khumaira do not treat Maemunah condescendingly despite their higher socio-economic class because Maemunah is religiously devout.

The degree of Islamic knowledge and its authority over socio-economic class is also apparent in the relationship between Attar and his mentor, kyai Sidik (who is also Khumaira’s uncle). He often cites the Quran, in Arabic, that wealth, beauty, and social status mean nothing to God, for God only values the most devout of followers. In an episode, Khumaira was chastised by her neighbour for joining Quranic recitations in the slums behind their luxurious housing compound.21 Khumaira ended the dialogue by citing the same verse as kyai Sidik, in the Indonesian language, that to God every human being is equal. In Munajah Cinta, Islamic verses are often used to normalise the tension between upper and lower socio-economic classes.

Friction Between the Religious and the Secular

One sub-plot that reveals the social relationships in Munajah Cinta is about Attar’s father, Sanjaya, a politician and mogul who is running for the post of governor.22 Sanjaya criticises Attar for wanting to practice polygamy, because it compromises his own political image. The sub-plot recounts the political consequence of Attar’s previously hedonistic lifestyle. His former lover, Elena, surfaced in the plot with a son out of wedlock. This incites a discussion between Sanjaya, his wife Intan, and consultant Baron on the possibility of Attar taking Elena, instead of Maemunah, as his second wife to resolve this issue.23

21 See episode 25. 22 See episode 12. 23 Original Indonesian version available in Appendix 5.7. 117

Sanjaya: [Throws newspaper to table] Everything is ruined! Ruined! Billions of rupiah that I’ve spent on building a positive public opinion ruined instantly because of Attar’s cheap publicity stunt. Baron: Pardon me, Sir, Ma’am. With all due respect, I think everyone is aware of Attar’s past lifestyle. Maybe he’s changed his ways and realises his mistakes now. Maybe this is a punishment for his past sins. But Attar needs to take responsibility for what he’s done. Intan: Isn’t there any other way? We could adopt Daniel. Baron: There is no other way. We have to take full responsibility. Unless you are willing to lose the upcoming elections. Intan: What should we do? Sanjaya: Baron is right. Marry Attar to Elena as soon as possible.

The conversation above looks at the option of polygamy being a solution that acknowledges Attar’s illegitimate child. This scene reveals that Islamic practice provides legitimacy that may give Sanjaya better press. However, in the following episode, Sanjaya said that Attar’s polygamy caused a women’s rights organisation to demonstrate and publicly state that Sanjaya is pro-polygamy, which in turn provoked another kind of bad press.24

Intan: How was the [political] party meeting? Sanjaya: Currently, all of my political rivals are using the issue of Elena to compromise my position. My public image is extremely negative. When I was giving a speech, a women’s rights organisation openly demonstrated in front of me. They demand my resignation from the candidacy, saying I was pro-polygamy.

The conversations above are important for two reasons. Firstly, the main characters were concerned that their son’s unknown child may compromise Sanjaya’s political position in the election. The discussion was resolved by legitimising their grandson through marriage and, since Attar is already married, Islamic practice that allows taking a second wife justifies this. In the plot, Islam was used by the main characters to secure their secular, formal-political position in state elections. Secondly, the characters quickly found out that, despite its Islamic legitimacy, the polygamous relationship caused a different kind of controversy. This revealed tension that exists between conservative Islamic practices and women’s rights in how the sinetron producers imagine their sinetron religi audience. Love triangles are often the plot of many generic sinetron, but the religious legitimacy a polygamous marriage gives over the triangle has caused decline in ratings (I. Kurniawan, personal communication, June

24 Original Indonesian version available in Appendix 5.8. 118

11, 2011). By displaying a conflict between these two views, the producers maintain the plot and its Islamic theme without losing the more moderate Muslim viewers.

The characteristics of melodramatic sinetron religi, which often dramatise romantic turmoil, allow these conflicts to exist. Therefore friction between the secular and the religious, the public and the private, is a recurring theme throughout the series. In one episode, the main antagonist, Bakrie, attempts to bankrupt Attar’s Islamic travel agency.25 His attempt is only made possible because the travel agency manages Islamic pilgrimages, both the umrah26 and the hajj. Bakrie was masquerading as a pesantren representative who plans to send fifteen pesantren students for umrah. Upon realising that the owner of the travel agency is the Sanjaya family, managed by Attar and his first wife Khumaira, Bakrie creates a scene witnessed by dozens of other customers.27

Bakrie: This is a moral issue, an issue of decency. Although I am a man, I do not condone men who string women along and play with their feelings. And the owner of this travel agency is such a man, just as has been reported on the news and infotainment [programmes]. Isn’t that true? Clerk: That’s true, Sir. Bakrie: This is a religious issue and a moral issue. So I apologise, I don’t mean to cause you discomfort, but I have to cancel my bookings because religion and morals are very important for me. I do not wish for my religious pilgrimage to be tainted, compromised for using the umrah services of this travel agency.

After Bakrie’s speech, the dozen of customers nodded in agreement and cancelled their bookings. Bakrie’s reference to the ―news and infotainment‖ relates to the Sanjaya family’s negative public image as a result of Attar’s love-triangle. In the scene above, the social consequence of polygamy was monetary rather than political (as it was in the previous scene). Attar’s decision to take a second wife, which conforms to conservative social practices of Islam, is contrasted with moderate social practices of Islam regarding gender equity.

Degree of Islamic Piety

There are two important recurring themes that are apparent in most Munajah Cinta episodes. First, in various sub-plots, Islamic piety is often contrasted against hedonistic

25 See episode 9. 26 Umrah is often mentioned as the ―minor pilgrimage‖ or ―minor hajj‖ as it is not compulsory for all able-bodied Muslims like the hajj is. It can also be performed throughout the year, whereas the hajj can only be conducted during the hajj season. 27 Original Indonesian version available in Appendix 5.9. 119 life style. One scene, for instance, portrays male and female Muslims who have just returned from their umrah.28 They are shocked to find that in front of Attar’s travel agency, a karaoke bar and massage parlour have opened.29 The discourse between the umrah pilgrims is centred on the tainting of their religious pilgrimage by choosing a travel agent whose neighbours operate such controversial businesses.

In response to the customer’s protests, Attar visited the neighbouring business to ask them bring down their provocative poster of a woman. In refusing to do so, the owner, Bakrie, said that if Attar disapproves of such businesses the travel agency could move to ―Arabia‖. This scene, and many others like it, plays on the friction between Islamic piety and social practices that are socially permitted (although at times illegal). This friction is rarely resolved. The characters try to maintain the purity of their Islamic practice and as a result, they become compromised politically (i.e. Sanjaya’s political image) and economically (i.e. travel agent’s income). The pious characters thus pray to God to help them in this test, and their problems are resolved through indirect intervention (―This must be Allah’s grace‖).

Secondly, Munajah Cinta also often plays on the degree of piety between ustad. In one episode, Attar’s mentor, kyai Sidik argued with an anonymous ustad.30 In the episode, Attar was visiting Maemunah at her modest apartment (kost). Having had coffee accidentally spilt on him, Attar took off some of his clothing, which nosey neighbours misinterpreted as indicating an extramarital sexual relationship (zina). Both Attar and Maemunah were dragged to the police station for having extramarital relations, despite the fact Indonesia has no law prohibiting this for those who are unmarried. Both Attar and Maemunah were imprisoned, and were asked for their testimonies, as were those who testified against them and an anonymous ustad who recited a relevant Hadith.

The anonymous ustad proclaimed that Islam prohibits a man and woman from sharing a room unless they are married or muhrim, further incriminating Maemunah and Attar. The police diligently typed all statements made by the suspects, the witnesses, and the ustad. Kyai Sidik arrived and talked to Attar, avoiding giving him a straight answer to his problems; only citing ambiguous verses from the Quran. After contemplating, Attar

28 See episode 20. 29 This usually implies illegal sex services that are a common secret in large, urbanised cities in Indonesia such as Jakarta and Medan. 30 See episode 8. 120 finally decided to take Maemunah as his second wife, upon the agreement of his first wife. The charges were instantly dropped and both Attar and Maemunah were released from prison.

While the anonymous ustad was portrayed as the typical black-and-white religious ustad (similar to Hidayah), kyai Sidik, is portrayed as a spiritual leader who mentors Attar to find his own way of practicing religion. This difference is symbolised in their attributes. The anonymous ustad wears an ―Indonesian‖ peci and baju koko, whereas kyai Sidik dons a Middle Eastern turban, scarf and a Middle-Eastern gamis (shirt for men) that goes to his knees (see Figure 5.6)

Figure 5.6. Different apparels on ustad to symbolise degree of piety.

These Middle-Eastern references are often related to a character’s degree of piety. It is not only kyai Sidik’s Middle-Eastern apparel that signifies his Islamic authority over the ―local‖ ustad; Khumaira’s praying scenes are often accompanied by with Middle-Eastern music. Such songs, in contrast, never accompany Maemunah’s praying scenes.

In the case of Attar and Maemunah’s imprisonment, the police detained them until the authorities confirmed all testimonies including those of the anonymous ustad who was there to testify as an expert. This conflict is resolved when Attar announces his intention to marry Maemunah (which coincides with the anonymous ustad’s advice), when the police release both of them. The police processed the case as if it was an offence punishable by state law, turning the policemen enforcers of Islamic practices in the storyline. Although the Sharia’s prohibition against extramarital relations is not part of Indonesian state law, in the imprisonment scene, the police enforced Sharia law on the two main characters to legitimise their romantic relationship. Like the Hidayah

121 scene in which the police officer prays under the ustad’s guidance, Munajah Cinta also places state officials as subordinate to religious authority.

Para Pencari Tuhan

PPT centres on mundane, daily events and their deep-seated meanings that occur at the urban kampung location of musholla At-Taufik. The architecture of At-Taufik is not the more common dome-shape; rather the musholla is a small surau31 as is more often found in kampung (see Figure 5.7). The interior of the musholla displays Arabic calligraphy, giving a sense of holiness where the characters perform their prayers. At- Taufik’s architecture is a hybridisation of Islamic influence (particularly Malayan) on Indonesian architecture, and it also serves as a hybrid space in which to practice religious rituals and social activities.

Figure 5.7. Stills of musholla At-Taufik. Taken from Para Pencari Tuhan 2, Episode 1.

The larger surrounding area of At-Taufik extends to a decorative plant shop that is run by bang Jack, Juki, Barong and Chelsea and a terrace that houses a bedug32. The musholla is the main site of ―seeking God‖, where the characters discuss the ethics of everyday life, the philosophy of spiritualism, and business opportunities. In the latter, they often argue about the importance of providing employment for villagers who are in

31 A surau (small mosque) is also an education, social, and cultural space popular in Minangkabau culture. 32 Bedug or bedhug is a traditional drum used to indicate Magrib prayers and usually associated with Islam and Javanese culture. During the New Order, bedug had been regarded as possessing non-Islamic values and were replaced by megaphones by modernist Muslims. NU followers still preserve the use of bedug in their Islamic practice (van Bruinessen, 1991, pp. 186-187). 122 need of work (membuka lapangan kerja). Most of the discussions related to social issues that occur in PPT deal with the financial problems suffered by the residents of the area, from bang Jack to the ustad, ustad Ferry. Like Hidayah, the characters’ financial issues are often the cause of other problems, for which God and religion offer solutions.

We Save Ourselves from Poverty

Unlike both Hidayah and Munajah Cinta, where the protagonists and antagonists are easily distinguishable, PPT’s characters are more complex, ambivalent, and do not always signify Islamic piety. Their identities include various other secular, social identities. Several come from different ethnic groups (e.g. Asrul and Baha have thick Bataknese dialects), having hobbies (e.g. Chelsea often sports a Chelsea club T-shirt to show club support), and casual mingling among different socio-economic class. These characters often refer to Islamic teachings to provide answers to their ethical dilemmas. Like Hidayah, PPT’s characters’ predominantly come from low-income groups usually signified by setting and clothing. An example is a scene in which characters consume raskin (beras miskin/rice for the poor) and have to separate stones from rice manually due to its poor quality, praising God when they receive hard-earned money (see Figure 5.8).33

Figure 5.8. Stills of PPT characters preparing raskin.

Sub-plots in PPT usually portray those who work hard to overcome their poverty. Episodes 8 to 19 include a subplot on main characters Aya and Azzam hiring Asrul after a long unemployment. Asrul recognises that he continues to make mistakes and forgets his tasks. Not being able to handle too much criticism for his errors, Asrul resigns, feeling incompetent. Azzam and bang Jack talk to Asrul, revealing their concern over his financial state and unwillingness to try harder and develop his skills. Bang Jack explains that he needs to have purpose in life and that Asrul is the only

33 Taken from episode 5. 123 person who can save himself from poverty. Bang Jack cites on a Hadith stating that ―the best of human beings are those who benefit others‖, implying that Asrul should not only think of his own insecurities but his family’s livelihood and his function in society.

The sub-plot illustrates that the characters in PPT recognise that there is a relationship between unemployment, low skills, and being trapped in poverty (―an old dog learning new tricks‖).34 On the one hand, the socio-economic system has failed to provide them with a living. On the other, unlike in Hidayah for instance, the plot in PPT is not resolved by divine intervention to address the failures of social institutions. In PPT, Islamic teachings do not bring instant solutions to the characters’ problems. PPT instead utilises the meaning of the religious messages and incorporates them into the characters’ daily struggles. The characters are the actors of their own fate. The Hadith is offered to guide Asrul in finding his life purpose, to continue fighting and struggling against his poverty. This is in great contrast to Hidayah and Munajah Cinta in which Islamic teachings are a means for characters to accept their fate.

Fluid Authority

The role of the ustad in PPT is also more ambiguous compared to Hidayah and Munajah Cinta. PPT’s main ustad, ustad Ferry, is not always without fault and is not always knowledgeable about Islamic teachings, particularly when ethical debates occur. In some episodes, the typical role of the ustad, as a person who guides congregation to a righteous path, transfers from one character to the other. In one episode,35 pak Jalal, the richest man in the village, refused to respond to anyone unless they call him pak haji (an epithet given to those who have completed the hajj).36

Man #1: He can’t treat us this way all the time. Such arrogance when he’s only been on an umrah five times. Man #2: Stirring things up… He should be given a lesson. Let’s report him to the Village Chief. Man #3: Why should we even bother? Man #2: So that little hajj knows that even us little people are equal [with him] in the eyes of the law.

34 Mentioned by Asrul in episode 19. 35 Taken from episode 1. 36 Original Indonesian version available in Appendix 5.10. 124

The villagers finally decided to convey their objections to ustad Ferry, arguing that since pak Jalal has conducted not the hajj but only the umrah, albeit five times, he has no right to request the epithet of Hajj. They finally agreed to go to ustad Ferry as a mediator, and visited pak Jalal’s house together. At first pak Jalal is offended that the villagers came to his house to demonstrate, but after ustad Ferry’s kind request for pak Jalal to clarify why he requested to be called pak haji. Pak Jalal explained that the epithet is aimed to remind him that the title serves as a moral reminder to him to act justly and wisely, as would be appropriate to the title.

Although the villagers come from the lower socio-economic class who are often portrayed in sinetron as having less power than the upper class, they are represented in PPT as critical towards unfair treatment and know how to exercise their citizens’ rights. The critical lower class also regards state authority as above religious authority (―So that little hajj knows that even us little people are equal [to him] in the eyes of the law‖). This portrayal positions religion as subordinate to the law, which contests with how religious authority is portrayed in Hidayah and Munajah Cinta.

The villagers did not exercise their critical awareness through their own authority. Instead, they exercised it through ustad Ferry’s religious authority over pak Jalal. Despite pak Jalal being a major provider of charity for the villagers, they demanded an explanation for his actions (―Although he provides our zakat and sedekah,37 these are instructions from God. Even if he’s angered by what we’re about to do, he still has to provide for us [the poor]‖). In PPT, religiosity permits individuals to challenge authority. Each authoritative figure, whether economic (pak Jalal) or even religious (ustad Ferry), has limited and contextual power.

For instance, in another episode, bang Jack wants to open a decorative plant shop and consults pak Jalal about investments. Afterwards, he consulted ustad Ferry on how to manage money. Ustad Ferry answers that although he is knowledgeable about the Quran and Hadith, he has little knowledge of how to develop and maintain businesses. He openly admits that he doesn’t even have a lot of money. Ustad Ferry advises bang Jack to consult to Azzam, a successful entrepreneur.38

37 Obligatory and optional charity in Islam. 38 Original Indonesian version available in Appendix 5.11. 125

Ustad Ferry: That’s true, you should consult to an expert. Bang Jack: But you’re also an expert. Ustad Ferry: A different kind, I’m a commentator. I mean, I’m an expert in [giving] advice.

Ustad Ferry implies that having knowledge of religion does not necessarily mean he knows everything. The ustad admits he has less knowledge in business, and thus less authority, than Azzam the entrepreneur. Following ustad Ferry’s advice, bang Jack, Juki, Chelsea, and Barong consult to Azzam. The discussion occurs at At-Taufik, and, despite bang Jack being the musholla caretaker, is led by Azzam. The function of the musholla shifts from that of a religious place to a socio-economic space (see Figure 5.9).

Figure 5.9. Business discussion in a religious space.

Authority shifted from bang Jack, the caretaker, to Azzam as the businessman. This fluid authority gives way to more than one social structure, depending on the personal issue (i.e. economical or religious). Even within one issue (for instance, religion), the authority is not limited to one character. Ustad Ferry and, to some extent, bang Jack are not always portrayed as the most knowledgeable in Islam. In several episodes both characters have been criticised by their followers. Such scenes are common in PPT, where authoritative figures such as ustad Ferry, bang Jack, pak Jalal, the Village Chief all have their human moments and are corrected by people that are more commonly portrayed as having less authority.

For instance, Juki, Chelsea, and Barong, bang Jack’s proclaimed adopted children and disciples, asked about bang Jack’s motivation to save money. Bang Jack said that he wishes to visit his wife’s grave in Saudi Arabia and while he’s there he’d like to conduct his hajj. All three disciples reminded bang Jack that he has his priorities backwards; the

126 hajj should go before bang Jack’s plans to visit his wife’s grave. Bang Jack laughed and thanked them for reminding him of his responsibilities. ―The old and the wise are also imperfect and may make mistakes. Someone should remind me of my faults,‖ said bang Jack. Before criticising their mentor, however, they discussed among themselves whether this may be inappropriate since bang Jack is both older and wiser (tua dan tahu) and decided to employ humour to neutralise their nerves and doubts.

The scenes above introduce the idea that authority is not fixed that it can be challenged. Authority, in PPT, is relative to context and should be flexible according to the needs of members of the community. It is not reserved for authoritative figures, ―the old and the wise‖, or the rich even; it is to be challenged if it does not serve the purpose of the community. The scene where the villagers refuse to submit to pak Jalal’s demand, even though they are at risk of him discontinuing his charity to them, implies that financial authority should not give way to an abuse of power. And that lower income, although in reality placing the villagers in a specific economic class, does not marginalise their voice. In numbers, and with the assistance of ustad Ferry, the villagers have the authority to question pak Jalal’s power.

Political Criticism through Islamic Views

The theme of Islamic teachings as a means to deal with poverty provides a general tone in the series. The focus in this section of the chapter is how collective religious identity becomes a means to challenge the essentialist notions of religious authority in sinetron religi. There are two main issues that often receive criticism in PPT. The first is the economy, usually manifested by the villagers’ struggle against poverty. A particular scene portrays bang Jack concerned at how fewer and fewer people come to musholla At-Taufik, thereby reinforcing the larger context of PPT that criticises the decrease in collective religious practice due to economic downturn.39 The scene is about bang Jack, Udin the community security guard (hansip), Barong, Juki, and Chelsea, waiting at At- Taufik for more people to join the congregational prayers (shalat berjamaah). Bang Jack asks several villagers passing the musholla to join them, to which they declined because they had to go to work.40

39 Taken from episode 4. 40 Original Indonesian version available in Appendix 5.12. 127

Bang Jack: People used to not visit our musholla because they were trying to save their families from poverty. Barong: And now? Bang Jack: Now they’re still not visiting our musholla, because they’re trying to save their jobs.

The second aspect is related to everyday politics. Usually Islamic teaching is invoked to challenge unquestioned traditions practiced in the village. One episode, for instance, is about the villagers asking pak Jalal to celebrate his birthday.41 In doing so, the villagers’ entertainment is financed by pak Jalal. Kalila, pak Jalal’s niece, reminded everyone that the prophet and his confidants did not perform birthday celebrations. Therefore, if there should be an event financed by pak Jalal (eventually it was a carambol42 competition), it should be to strengthen the bonds between everyone in the village (mempererat silaturahmi). Before pak Jalal agreed on a carambol competition, he wanted a pole climbing competition (panjat pinang) that is usually performed during Indonesia’s independence day.43

Bang Jack: Yes, but why do we have to have a pole climbing competition, pak Jalal? Pak Jalal: What’s wrong with a pole climbing competition? Bang Jack: Pole climbing is a tradition inherited from Dutch elites when they colonised us, pak Jalal. Pak Jalal: Wow, that’s cool! Bang Jack: Not really. Natives were instructed to compete against each other, through pole climbing, to win prizes of clothes, cheese, sugar, coffee, etc. While the Dutch elites watch, laugh and drink tea, looking at natives trying to beat each other to get clothes and food. Pak Jalal: Really? But it has since become our tradition. Bang Jack: Pak Jalal, our society’s tradition also needs correcting. For me, the pole climbing tradition can only prolong an entertainment for a coloniser by degrading our nation’s pride.

Pak Jalal finally announced to the committee that, whatever they suggest, the event should not include a pole climbing competition. It is apparent in the scene with pak Jalal that PPT attempts to inform the audience that several traditions need to be questioned and that history determines their practice in today’s society. In the scene, pak Jalal listened to the religious advice of bang Jack (who is of a lower socio- economic class than pak Jalal). The episode about pak Jalal’s birthday introduced the

41 Taken from episode 5 to 8. 42 Carambol is a board game similar in principle to pool, where the competitors have to flick coins (instead of balls,) with their fingers (instead of pool sticks) into the four pockets at the edge of the table. 43 Original Indonesian version available in Appendix 5.13. 128 issue of dominance and national pride, in which Islamic teaching becomes a means to challenge otherwise unquestioned traditions.

Similar political criticism is also apparent in another episode, where several villagers come to the musholla to pray together.44 Upon arriving, they were confused about whether to join the congregational prayer: only one congregational prayer usually occurs in a mosque or musholla with those coming late usually joining the ongoing prayers. In this scene however different groups were praying at different times and stages (see Figure 5.10).

Figure 5.10. Simultaneous congregational prayers in PPT.

Responding to the unusual situation, one of villagers commented maybe the different prayers are because of each group followed different schools of thought: one may be hardline (garis keras) and the other one softline (garis lembut). To avoid confusion, the newcomers followed neither and conducted their own congregational prayer, stating that they would rather not be led in confusion ―thus we should create our own [political] party that accommodates our aspiration‖. This statement implies that their religious ritual is comparable to political affiliation. Finally with the three congregational prayers were taking place at the musholla, bang Jack, Juki, Chelsea, Barong, Azzam, Asrul, and Udin responded in dumbfounded disbelief:45

44 Taken from episode 26. 45 Original Indonesian version available in Appendix 5.14. 129

Bang Jack: This is just like our people,46 we have too many political parties. The more flags we have, the less power each party possesses. Like bubbles in the sea, abundant but without force. Azzam: Let’s do our pre-prayer washing. Then we can make our own political party. Bang Jack: No, we shouldn’t imitate them. This is an example of people conducting rituals without understanding why. We’ll wait until they finish.

The multiple congregational prayer scene criticises the de-alignment (dealiranisasi) of Islamic political parties after Suharto stepped down (Ufen, 2006; Ufen, 2008; Tomsa, 2010). The scene included the villagers who chose to form their own congregational prayer, rather than unwittingly follow another prayer. The anonymous villager mentioned that having their own authentic congregation is like having ―a party that accommodates our aspiration‖. Bang Jack echoes the reference towards political parties. He states that political de-alignment is what makes the umat (Islamic community) weak: because Muslims are broken into small groups that have less power. The scene occurred at the end of the episode, leaving the issue open-ended. The panjat pinang scene indicates that a dominant group may break people by putting them against one another. Such fragmentation is depicted negatively in the scene of separate congregational prayers. Islamic views here were articulated to propagate the idea of Muslim unity.

Conclusion

Previous work on Indonesian sinetron religi has criticised them as commodifications of Islam or (Sasono, 2005; Azra, 2008), in the case of Mizwar’s sinetron religi, sees these programmes as a site for contestation (Subijanto, 2009). This chapter reveals these findings do not contradict each other. In fact, they are interrelated and are constructs of an Islamic identity. Furthermore, because the Islamic theme needs be acceptable to the larger, heterogeneous audience, it is not solely an Islamic cultural product. In that, there are two practices that manifest as a result of this relationship.

Firstly, the television stations’ audience segmentation determines which class of Muslim viewers they target. The content of each sinetron religi studied in this chapter reveals a construct of class-based Islamic identity. Hidayah, designed for the C and D

46 Umat literally translates to ―people of the faith‖ or ―people‖. 130 class audience, imagines divine intervention to save Muslims from the failures of formal institutions and incurable social injustice. Munajah Cinta, designed for the B and C class audience, imagines Islamic practice within a private space and desires for pure, Middle-Eastern piety. Para Pencari Tuhan, designed for the A and B class audience, imagines Islamic teachings as guides to daily, ethical issues faced by Muslim individuals and communities. All of these constructs must firstly commodify Islam in order for them to be televised.

Secondly, Islamic representations do interact dialectically (Subijanto, 2009, p. 252), however not only within one sinetron religi, but between them and, in that, between the clusters (and Muslim class) they represent. Sinetron religi form structures within and between texts. Some identities included in the sinetron religi mentioned in this chapter– among others, class, gender, Islamic, youth, and national—are subordinated to one another.

Mahmood (2007) theorises about such subordination as the ―politics of piety‖. Although specifically talking about Muslim feminism, Mahmood’s thesis proves that religious politics performed in public spaces is critically structured. This structure is upheld by discursive tradition or the struggle for power between domination and resistance. Commercial interest and Islamic values uphold different discursive traditions because they subordinate different groups to different kinds of authorities. This chapter reveals that in Hidayah, bourgeois dominance and the state are subordinated to Islamic values. In Munajah Cinta, Islamic values are subordinated by gender equity and “pure‖, Middle-Eastern Islam subordinates local Islam. In contrast to both Hidayah and Munajah Cinta, Para Pencari Tuhan contests essentialist notions of religious authority.

The commercial success of melodramatic sinetron religi and its portrayal of personal hardships in relation to Islam were in reaction towards the simplistic binary opposition in supernatural sinetron religi. The alternative sinetron religi propagated a view that challenged Islamic trivialisation in supernatural sinetron religi and melodrama. Unlike in Hidayah and Munajah Cinta, in Para Pencari Tuhan, religion is not above the state. Instead, despite its thick Islamic substance, other cultural identities such as ethnicity (one that is not present in Hidayah and Munajah Cinta at all), coexist.

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Simultaneously, Islamic teachings imagined in each sinetron religi contest one another; not unlike schools of thought. Hidayah and Munajah Cinta, guided by commercial logic in their production, imagine Islam as a means to accept unchangeable fate. Para Pencari Tuhan, in comparison, whose production is guided by Islamic values, imagines Islam as a way of life to resolve individual struggles. All sinetron religi represent a lower socio-economic class, that is a consequence of an unjust social system, as the main circumstance from which Islam saves them.

What Mahmood (2007) studies strictly within the Islamic academic discourse are revealed to be interrelated with other secular, social identities in this chapter. These identities raise the question of the ―politics‖ between them, especially how they are positioned in the middle of the tension between commercial interest and Islamic ideology. Therefore, the next chapters look at how the ―national viewers‖ interpret Islamic practices that are represented and mainstreamed into television content.

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Part Three: Viewer Agency

If we ourselves are not for us, who else is likely to be? (Dunn, 1979, p. 68).

Our country is dominated by Muslims, which means the country reflects the majority of its people who are Muslims (Banjarmasin student, 2011).

Every morning, afternoon, evening, always the adzan. Sometimes it makes me angry (Jayapura student, 2011).

CHAPTER SIX

PERFORMING IDENTITIES

In the previous chapter, I described the “politics of representation” in selected sinetron religi (Barker, 2003, p. 445). These representations include subordination of different contesting identities between and within text or the “politics of piety” (Mahmood, 2007). These identities, which include class, gender, youth, Islamic, religious, and national, work within the context of televised commercial Islam that, in its commercial value, speaks to the larger “national” viewers. In this chapter, I address the role of sinetron religi as mass mediated popular culture and its relationship with nationhood.

Previous chapters have examined the structure of sinetron religi as an industry, their production process and constructs. The chapter reveals that this structure plays a significant political and economic role in the reproduction of dominant, popular culture. However, how these constructions are reflected upon in everyday processes remains unanswered. Sinetron religi producers are divided between arguing that ratings are interchangeable with market demand and taste (i.e. Hidayah and Munajah Cinta) and that it is the lack of alternative programmes that have shaped the popularity of generic sinetron (i.e. PPT).1 Regardless of their assumptions, it is how they imagine their national, Muslim audience that this thesis reveals. Thus, the purpose of Chapters Six and Seven is to explore further which of these two general assumptions is true. In doing so these chapters answer the question of “just how interpretively active are audiences, under what circumstances should the interpretations be deemed as instance of resistance, and further, just how polysemic is television output?” (Dahlgren, 1998, p. 301).2

Liebes and Katz (1990) explore two dominant modes of reception, namely critical and referential reading. The former involves “the highlighting of the constructed nature of the text and expressing the awareness of its ideological content” (Müller & Hermes, 2010, p. 197). The latter consists of personal engagement with the content and plot, which is more emotionally involving. I do not treat these modes of reception as a category of “reading styles” and divide the participants based on their responses towards

1 Chapter Three and Four provide explanations on sinetron religi as a culture industry and its production process. 2 Chapter One provides the methodological rationalisation for this thesis. 133 the clips. Instead, like Müller and Hermes, I focus on how they “construct multiple and possibly contradictory interpretation of the same media text” (2010, p. 197). This is done to “develop an understanding of how different types of contingent engagement with a media text as expressed through these different reading styles” (Müller & Hermes, p. 198).3

These different types of engagement have similarities and/or differences to each other and, rather than reading styles, are divided based on the cities in which I conducted the discussions.4 The chapter is thus divided into three large sections based on the participants’ reaction to each sinetron religi, preceded by a brief explanation of the cultural context and schools. The last part of the chapter explains the linkages between the politics of piety in sinetron religi and the participants’ performance of national identity.

Cultural Context

The four Nielsen cities I visited for the group discussions were Jakarta, Banjarmasin, Makassar, and Denpasar. I often see cultural events broadcast live to nationwide viewers from these four cities by commercial television stations. One of the examples of such broadcasts is the live concert, in which a music band visits a city. It is a common sight on national television, listening to the vocalist of a band saying, “Sing along with us, Makassar!” or any other of these Nielsen city. Such a case is also apparent in the context of Islamic programmes. The dakwah talent show, DAI, for instance, has representatives of da’i contestants from various cities in the country,5 most of which are Nielsen cities such as Jakarta, Bandung, Surabaya, Medan, and Padang. Like New Order’s construction of civilised ethnicities as part of national identity (Schefold, 1998, p. 272), commercial television stations construct national television programmes that portray the religious culture of Nielsen cities.

3 The model was proved to be useful as a guide, but in some instances it did not give the tools to analyse moments where the students were both critical and emotional. The model also failed to explain how television content can become a trigger for personal engagement without having to become engaged in the content. I revisit this, also by relating it to findings in Chapter Seven and in the concluding Chapter Nine. 4 Chapter One explains the cities and sites of research. 5 Chapter Two includes an explanation of the dakwah talent show. 134

Although Nielsen had chosen these cities for audience research based on the buying power and socio-economic behaviour of its residents, each city has its own urban characteristics and distinctive socio-cultural contexts that are not identifiable through Nielsen’s statistical data. Viewers in each city may have different interpretations of the same media text because they live in a city with a distinct socio-culture. In the cities that I’ve chosen, ethnic, religious, and ethno-religious cultures are often dominant factors mentioned in literature.6

The first city, Jakarta, has a residential population of 8.8 million inhabitants of whom 84 percent categorise themselves in the census as Muslim (BPS, 2010). The inhabitants of the greater Jakarta area, however (which includes Bogor, Depok, Bekasi, Tangerang, South Tangerang), often commute to work in the city’s central business district (“After Census City”, 2012). The total inhabitants of the greater Jakarta area are thus approximately 24 million (Indonesia Government Website, 2012). Historically, the Betawi (people of Batavia) is the distinct ethnic group of Jakarta but their presence has been somewhat diluted by major immigration from elsewhere in Java (Cribb, 2009, p. 13). Like capital cities around the world, Jakarta is not the exclusive home of only one ethnicity. Some describe Jakarta as a demographic melting pot, with ethnic Betawi comprising only 27.65 percent, Javanese 35.16 percent, and Sundanese 15.27 percent (“Jakarta Candidates”, 2012).

There are several important aspects in regards to the collective social identities of Jakarta residents. Firstly, scholars generally agree that Jakarta today is marked by racial and ethnic diversity with a colourful history that has led to its cultural hybridisation (Leaf, 2006; Rahayu, 2004; Arif, 2010). Recent studies exploring the shared identity of Jakarta residents argue that it is centred on economic activities more than it is on ethnic and/or religious identity (Rahayu, 2004; Arief, 2010). An example of this is the cultural space constructed by shopping malls that were not only built for a certain class but also include cultural symbols of that class (Irawati, 2010, p. 2).

Secondly, religious segregation occurs. Having lived in Jakarta for decades, I too can sense the growing Muslim culture in the southern part of Jakarta through the rising

6 I describe the cities based on the order I present them in this chapter, not by the order of my visit. In the latter case, I visited Denpasar (July 2011), Makassar (October 2011), Jakarta (November 2011), and Banjarmasin (December 2011). 135 number of local mosques, the increasing volume of the call to prayers, even protests against building a church in a predominantly Muslim neighbourhood.7 This results in the third issue: various cases in which the dominance of Muslim culture manifests by means of commercial interest. An example is a private, Islamic housing complex in the greater Jakarta area (Lasman, 2007, p. 2).

The second city, Banjarmasin, has approximately 650,000 inhabitants (BPS, 2011). The majority of its population is Banjarese (64 percent), with Javanese, Maduranese, Dayak, and Buginese as minorities (Banjarmasin Kota website, 2012). Although the Banjarese are divided into five sub-ethnics,8 the practice of Islam has become a strong characteristic of Banjarese in general (Daud, 1997, p. 85). So much so that, although also influenced by many other socio-cultural factors, Islam has become part of the Banjarese identity. Several scholars acknowledge that, for the Banjarese, to become a Muslim is to purify oneself from Dayak primordialism (Saleh, 1986; Lamry, 2007).

Considerable contemporary academic literature argues that Banjarese identity centres on Banjarese Islam (Saleh, 1986; Lamry, 2007; Mahin, 2004). The term “Banjarese Islam” refers to the historical process and Islamic inculturation in Banjar, which balances Islamic beliefs, bubuhan (kinship) beliefs, and environmental beliefs (Haeda, 2009, p. 3). These three factors are thought to contribute to more hybrid practices of Banjarese identity, such as ethno-cultural practices that are moderated by Islamic beliefs. My own experience in Banjarmasin revealed that some parts of the city, such as the waterfront of Martapura river,9 display historical significance. Its busiest district, however, is downtown Banjarmasin in which many of the brands and malls I see in Jakarta are also present in this river city.

Through personal communication with locals and students, I found that they feel some sense of prestige in having such modern buildings in their city. One of the Banjarmasin students shared that his friends in Banjarmasin are much more consumptive than his friends in other cities. “They often upgrade their mobile phones or motorcycle. My

7 In 2012, Muslim conservatives in Bogor protested against the building of Yasmin Church in the area. The protest grew into a conflict in response to which the President made a statement (“Lagi, SBY Dorong”, 2012). 8 Banjar Pahuluan, Banjar Batang Banyu, Banjar Kuala, Banjar Alai, Banjar Kaluak. 9 After the Banjarmasin war in 1859, the Dutch colonisers moved their headquarters to Martapura. The waterfront shows some traces of this historical event. Muller (1992) provides detailed description of Banjarmasin’s history. 136 friends in Jogja or Bandung, their motorcycles and mobile phones are not very fancy. They don’t live extravagantly. I think almost all students in Banjarmasin, from primary to high school, use [the smartphone] Blackberry. It’s a phenomenon, really. That primary and junior high students here already use Blackberry” (Nur [pseudonym], personal communication, December 20, 2011).

This sense of prestige in ostentatious consumption is even more apparent in the third city, Makassar. The population of Makassar city is 1.3 million (BPS, 2010). These inhabitants comprise 40 percent Makassan, 30 percent Buginese, with a minority of Mandarese (5 percent), Torajanese (5 percent), Chinese (3 percent), and 17 percent “others, among whom were Javanese and people from other islands” (Turner, 2003, p. 84). The two most dominant ethnic groups are Makassan and Buginese, both of which share “the adoption of Islam and its institutions; a bilateral kinship system; [and] a flourishing literary tradition” (Lineton, 1975, in Turner, 2003, p. 84).

Previous studies on ethnic cultural traits of the two groups reveal that there is very light tension between the two groups that is traced by several scholars back to a collective colonial memory.10 For a number of centuries, Makassans have been very successful in business, which made the Buginese realise that they had to work hard to compete. Local politicians encouraged the dominance of Muslim Buginese and Makassans over other ethnic and religious groups as it proved advantageous for the ties between Jakarta and Makassar elites.11 For centuries Makassar has been an effective trading port and today it is dubbed the gateway to Eastern Indonesia.

By the late 1990s, property investment from Jakarta was seen to change the landscape of Makassar in terms of physical architecture, such as private housing complexes, and integrating the previously marginalised Chinese into the larger society (Sutherland, 2011, p. 815). This is mainly through the Lippo Group, a conglomerate controlled by the ethnic Chinese Riyadi family. By the end of the 2000s, the Para Group,12 in cooperation with the “locally owned” Kalla Group,13 established the Trans-Kalla Group

10 For further reading on the Bugis and Makassan ethnic separation during colonialism, see Andaya (2004), Sugiprawaty (2009), and Fahmid (2011). 11 In contrast, Javanese “imperialists”, Chinese immigrants, and Christians are considered outsiders. For more reading, see Amal (1992), Antweiler (1993), and Sutherland (2011). 12 A banking, retail, and media group headed by Jakarta-born Chairul Tanjung. 13 Headed by former vice president, businessman and Buginese Jusuf Kalla. It common knowledge that it is with Kalla’s “East Indonesian” background that Trans Corp. was accepted well in this part of the country. 137 that oversees the Trans Studio Makassar.14 Since then, Makassar has been experiencing a more modern, commercial lifestyle that is apparent in the building of malls in the centre of its city.

The fourth city, Denpasar, is the only city out of the four studied in this chapter in which Muslims are not the majority of the population. Of its 790,000 inhabitants, approximately 68 percent of its residents are Hindus (BPS, 2010), with Islam the largest religious minority in the city (Denpasar Kota website, 2011). Like the Banjarese in Banjarmasin, and the Buginese and Makassans in Makassar, Balinese dominate socio- cultural practice in Denpasar. Approximately 89 percent of Bali residents in general are of Balinese ethnicity (Suryadinata, 2003, p. 70).

Balinese cultural identity is seen as a dynamic between ethnic roots, the Hindu religion, its integration with Indonesia, and the influx of Western tourists (Picard, 1997, p. 184). Picard defines Balinese culture (kebudayaan Bali) as a bounded entity comprising of a combination of religion (agama), custom (adat), and art (seni; 1997, p. 184). He adds that “foreign” influence – which includes the dominance of Java and Islam in Indonesia, and the influx of tourists – did not corrupt Balinese culture because the Balinese are aware that, as long as the unity of these three components is indivisible, their identity is not at risk. This notion is particularly important considering that, as participants of this research, the Denpasar students are not only non-Muslim viewers but their religious and cultural identity does not resist foreign influence.15

As an illustration, one of the Denpasar students claimed during the discussion (to which others agreed) that during Hindu celebratory prayers (sembahyang) such as Galungan, some of their Muslim friends come to school to attend the ritual. None of the Muslim students participated in the prayers, but they were present to show respect. Both said it made them feel appreciated and that the effort is reciprocated. In the larger Denpasar area, participants described a diasporic neighbourhood where Javanese Muslims dwell called Kampung Jawa (Javanese Village). During Hindu celebrations, particularly the Balinese Hindu “Day of Silence” or Nyepi, the calling of Muslim prayer is not sounded loudly out of respect for the Hindus. “Some Muslims even change their names by

14 Trans Studio Makassar is an integrated entertainment and shopping facility that includes Trans Studio theme park, Trans Studio Mall, with an expansion of two hotels and residential apartments in Makassar. For more reading, see Beny, Said, & Tahara (2011). 15 I acknowledge the Balinese people have long struggled to negotiate the inclusion of their “Hindu Balinese religion” or “Balinese Hindu religion” within Indonesia’s constitution (Picard, 1997). 138 adding [the Balinese name] Nyoman for instance” (Made [pseudonym], personal communication, July 12 2011).

The four high-reputation state high schools that I visited generally implemented the Ministry of Education’s regulation on public schools, which included having assembly fields for weekly flag ceremonies.16 All schools, excluding the one in Denpasar, had mosques in spite of this not being enforced by state regulation. Interviews with school representatives also revealed that the general pedagogical approach is similar, which is related to an ideological change in the education system associated with more general political reform.

My interview with a Denpasar teacher revealed that before 1998, students were much more temperamental and difficult to control; often engaging in inter-school gang fights (tawuran). “Now, students are much calmer. Perhaps because of human rights, they are much more critical and active in extracurricular activities” (N. Dewantara [pseudonym], personal communication, July 12 2011). A Banjarmasin teacher, who said that there has also been a change of educational paradigm, shares Dewantara’s sentiment.

“We used to teach in a stricter manner, sometimes by slapping their backs or throwing a blackboard eraser to a student. But now, people can protest and [teachers] can be sued. Now it’s seen as violence. This is a consequence of educational reform. In my generation, students are pressured by teachers, but now, students can report to committees and so forth” (A. Haryanto [pseudonym], personal communication, December 20 2011). The teachers I interviewed said that, as a consequence of this reform, students are much more critical and outspoken than before the Reform period. All of the students that participated in the discussions were part of at least one student organisation and/or extra-curricular club.17 Below is the background of the students who participated in the research:18

16 Government Regulation of the Republic of Indonesia Number 19 Year 2005 on the National Standard of Education. 17 I observed that the reason for choosing these students was in reference to my own letter of request for the participating students having to be active, outspoken, and able to express their opinions. 18 I obtained the students’ detailed information from personal interviews, that is largely dependent on how comfortable the student is with revealing parts of themselves. Thus, there are variations to the availability of the students’ background information. The varying responses reveal that some students feel ethnic identity as a sensitive topic, hence it should be avoided. Others feel that it should be dismissed as irrelevant. The commonality between them is the fact that it is both personal and political. Thus, the issue of ethnic identity recurs amidst discussions on religion. 139

Table 6.1

Participant Background (Jakarta, Banjarmasin, Makassar, Denpasar)

City Name Gender Religion Ethno-Cultural Background Jakarta Hasan Male Islam Sunda-Betawi (Yemeni descent) (Pseudonym) Jon Male Islam Sunda-Minang Dani Male Islam Betawi-Minang Maria Female Protestant Ambon-Makassar Ayu Female Islam Minang (lived in Palembang) Rahma Female Islam Sunda-Java Banjarmasin Eka Male Catholic Dayak-Java Abdul Male Islam Banjar (lived in Samarinda) Nur Male Islam Banjar Ayu Female Islam Banjar Carla Female Islam n/a19 Dina Female Protestant Banjar Makassar Fajar Male Islam Bugis Ivan Male Protestant Toraja Dwi Male Islam Gorontalo-Bali Sasa Female Catholic Toraja Tina Female Islam Bugis Ami Female Islam Bugis Denpasar Made Male Hindu Bali Gede Male Hindu Bali Tri Male Hindu Java-Bali Sari Female Hindu Bali Puspa Female Islam Java (Cilacap-Surabaya) Mei Female Budhist Bali Source: personal interviews.

According to the teacher in Makassar, the reform occurred due to state law No. 20 Year 2003.20 The law included clauses on democratisation and decentralisation (local autonomy) as a response to the Reform movement and global innovations and changes. However, they do admit that although in general the relationship between teacher- student has significantly changed, it is much more difficult to reform the student orientation activities that may include hazing which were the norm during the New Order (Purnomo, 2005; Handayani, 2011).

The students were also generally familiar with the types of sinetron showed to them, some even occasionally watch these sinetron although none follow the episodes loyally. Their television use is generally in the style of absentmindedly moving from one channel to the other, in which viewers surf from one channel to the other until they find an interesting programme. They admit to stopping at sinetron religi because they are visually interesting, not because they follow the plots. From the personal interviews and

19 Mentioned she was raised in Madiun and Surabaya. 20 New National Education Paradigm Law on the National Education System No. 20 Year 2003 . See Arifin, 2005. 140 discussion, verified with observing their use of other media in a casual setting, I map out the students television practice below:21

Table 6.2 Participants’ Television Practice

City Television Perception towards Perception towards Local Practice Television Television Jakarta Less than 1 The majority chooses to Although participants think local hour/day watch cable television rather television is important for “other than national television, but areas”, their own television recognises that Muslim, practice is centred on cable Jakarta culture, dominates the television, the internet and heavy content of national television. criticism of national television's “low quality”. Banjarmasin 1-2 Watches mainly cable Participants watch local television hours/day television and “Jakarta” for local news. They enjoy national television. Their programmes that show traditional favourite shows are sports and culture but do not watch it often comedy. Participants feel that because it is produced in poor there are enough non-Muslim quality (not innovative and shows as the majority of creative enough to be enjoyable). viewers are Muslims. Makassar 1-5 Participants think that Participants prefer national hours/day national television is television to local television dominated by Jakarta culture. because the content of the latter They watch national speaks of news that has already television because it provides spread by word-of-mouth or been complete access to all kinds experienced directly. They also of information (from news to regard the content of local entertainment). Mainly watch television as uninteresting television for entertainment. compared to national television because of its visual quality. Denpasar 1-2 Participants’ favourite The majority of the participants hours/day channel is Trans TV because watch local television to find it has the best comedy shows. shows on traditional culture.22 They watch national They also watch it for local news, television for entertainment, including youth culture. The mainly for travel and culinary duration of their local and shows. national television consumption is relatively equal. Source: personal interview.

The cultural context of the cities, ethno-religious practice, the students’ social demography, and television practice establishes a point of departure for this chapter. In

21 The respondents admit to be active internet users who spend more hours accessing the internet than watching television. They mainly access the internet through their smartphones and have Facebook, Twitter, Plurk, and Blog accounts. 22 The two examples given by the students were Drama Gong and Wayang Cemblong. 141 the next section, I explain the students’ pattern of responses towards the Hidayah,23 Munajah Cinta,24 and Para Pencari Tuhan25 clips shown to them.

Responses towards Hidayah

The discussions occurred fluidly and the participants, individually or collectively, alternated between critical and referential readings (Liebes and Katz, 1990).26 Nevertheless, it is possible to identify two main common responses towards Hidayah. Importantly, findings reveal that responses between the participants were similar to each other in spite of their different cultural contexts, shedding light on the ideology behind consuming supernatural sinetron religi. The first common response I describe as critical reading in which participants regarded the representation in Hidayah as irrational and a negative portrayal to viewers. The second common response is a referential reading as participants related the portrayal of mystic events with their personal experiences of “mysticism”.27

Mysticism is Irrational

After watching the Hidayah clip, students in Jakarta, Banjarmasin, Makassar, and Denpasar expressed critical reading (Liebes & Katz, 1990) in which they rejected the representations and contrasted them with their own beliefs. They argued that they don’t relate to the show because it is targeted at “less educated people that still believe in mysticism” (“If it’s viewed by people who don’t understand, it might shape a stereotype that Islam relates to irrationality”) and that the younger generation has already learned how to think rationally (“Young people think more rationally”). They generally avoided association with such representations of Islam which they dubbed as “irrational, illogical, not making any sense and unrealistic”. There are several important pointers surrounding this first common response. A pattern that emerged among the students in these four cities was the claim that the show portrays mystic events that are not realistic (see Table 6.3).

23 The Hidayah clip I selected was from episode about a man being punished for insulting the adzan, by being turned into a dog. The particular clip showed the ustad praying for the dying man, where the police officer comes to pray with him (see Chapter Five). 24 The Munajah Cinta clip selected was on the dispute between the Attar’s parents regarding the consequences of polygamy for the father’s political career (see Chapter Five). 25 The PPT clip selected was of the simultaneous congregational prayers conducted in the mosque in which the main characters were compared with the country’s political fragmentation (see Chapter Five). 26 An explanation of the method of group interview selected is available in Chapter One. 27 The students generally used the term “mystic” instead of “supernatural”. As both terms essentially refer to the same thing to the students, I use both interchangeably in this chapter. 142

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Firstly, the Jakarta and Denpasar students laughed after watching the clip suggesting a conflict between rationality and their own personal supernatural experience. The Denpasar students laughed because they felt uncomfortable, thus normalising the tension between rationality and supernatural representations. They said that although it is illogical, “mysticism is indeed in our culture”, thus the ideas conflict but coexist.

The Jakarta students, on the other hand, admitted to laughing insultingly at the clip. The student particularly laughed at the depiction of the police officer who, instead of upholding law by putting the “bad guy” in jail, followed the ustad’s direction to pray. The Denpasar discussion focused on the dichotomy between rationality and mysticism, which the Makassar and Banjarmasin discussions focused on mysticism as subordinate to rationality. According to the Makassar and Banjarmasin students, rationality is preferable because believing in the supernatural prevents people from fantasising and functioning in society.

The Jakarta discussion sharpened this argument by revealing that rationality disproves the existence of the supernatural and that belief in the supernatural is backward. Secondly, when the participants say that the show is not relevant for young people because they are more rational, this suggests that the participants are detached from their position as viewer and take the position of the critical observer (“Laugh at it as an insult”). This position revealed three important performances.

First, the statement “irrational and unrealistic” reveals that the participants perform the “politics of piety” (Mahmood, 2007). Here, the participants subordinated “irrational views” to “rational religious views”. Secondly, the discussions in all four Nielsen cities mentioned a variation of keywords, which suggest that their idea of ideal religious practice requires rational thinking. Schiller has argued that the idea of rational religious practice is related to the state’s “religious modernisation” during the New Order (1996, p. 411). Thirdly, the method in which the students’ perform religious modernisation can be related to “religious moralising” (Müller & Hermes, 2010, p. 199). The students expect that the substance of Islamic representation in television should not be devalued (“It’s supposed to send a moral message, but it doesn’t”) and further contrasted this to fantasy entertainment shows (“Other shows are pure entertainment; this isn’t”).

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The latter refers to the students’ idea that mixing mysticism and religion is mainly to attract audience, which trivialises the moral message that is supposed to be sent by religious shows. The students argued that irrational content should not be packaged in a religious show (“Those who understand religion would understand it rationally”). The discussion evolved away from the Hidayah clip, to their personal views on the discourse of how rational thinking should facilitate religious practice.

Lastly, there is a slight difference in the Denpasar discussion in that they distanced themselves from the “Islamic text” and took the position as a Hindu audience (“Sinetron religi is only a different religious medium (perantara agama), but all religions are the basically the same as ours”). The Denpasar discussion revealed that they were seeking a common ground between Hindu and Islamic practice (“We face the same problems, but we have different religions”). This pluralistic approach towards Hidayah suggests that they were seeking commonalities between the two different religions.

Religious Modernisation

The second common response between the participants in reading Hidayah relates to personal reflections on the series’ content. Separate from critical readings of Hidayah’s representation of “irrationality”, referential readings of Hidayah are related to the students’ personal experience of how belief in mysticism manifests in their own environment. In general, the discussions in these four cities display a variation in recognising that such practices do exist in the environment they live in, but at the same time the participants separate their own personal beliefs from what is practiced by others.

There are several important issues raised in these common responses. Firstly, contrary to critical readings of Hidayah, in which the rational practice of religion is preferred by students from all cities, the students’ referential readings are contextual. In the Jakarta discussion, Hasan, a student of Yemeni descent brought up in a devout family, related the content to his own Islamic values in that he believes divine intervention exists (“I believe that these punishments do happen. Only God knows”). Another student, Jon, who used “television moralising” (“It seems inappropriate. It shouldn’t be shown in the form of a sinetron”),28 moderated Hasan’s strong views (see Table 6.4).

28 I adjusted Muller and Hermes’ (2010, p. 199) “media- savvy moralising” as the respondent limited the medium to television. And readjust the general idea of “moralising” as coined by Müller & Hermes (2010) throughout this chapter. 145

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Jon also showed both recognition and detachment from Hidayah’s targeted audience (“The audience who watches [these kinds of shows] aren’t those who understand Islam”) and emphasised television’s power in influencing its audience (“After watching, they follow Islam in the way it is televised”). Although Jon positioned himself as a detached expert, he also included the idea that, if viewed by the more educated, the show could potentially shape a negative image of Islam (“They’d think it’s weird”).

Secondly, the responses by Banjarmasin and Makassar students had some similarities. The discussions in both cities revealed that mysticism is a cultural practice in their environment (“Yes, I’ve heard about this in real life” [Banjarmasin] and “I heard a story about a man. … He used witchcraft [santet] on his boss” [Makassar]). However, after referring to their personal beliefs, participants claimed that they themselves have never experienced it. They tried to normalise this tension between what they believe in and what is practiced in their cultural environment.

In the Banjarmasin discussion, Eka elaborated on the practices in Talan, a village in Banua Lawas, South Kalimantan. The Talan people are known to be Muslims who believe in the magical powers of Undan Lake. Another participant, Abdul, tried to explain Eka’s description by relating it to the practices of lower economic classes and to rural values (“Especially in the lower economic class…But usually these stories are heard from the lower classes, in rural areas. But in modern societies, urban residents almost never mention this”). Eka readjusted his opinion by accepting the dichotomy between traditional-modern, rural-urban, lower-higher education, lower-upper class (“Maybe urban residents are more rational. They no longer hold traditional views”).

Thirdly, the discussion in Makassar also evolved around the tension between the students’ cultural environment and their personal belief (“But when I heard this story, I realised that it’s not good to depend on such magic”). Unlike Banjarmasin students, dichotomy between traditional and modern values did not manifest. Instead they set supernatural practice apart from organised religion. During the discussion, the religion mentioned was Islam. But during personal interviews, a participant, who is also a Torajan-Christian, mentioned that she did not feel comfortable in expressing her personal views during the discussion.

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Sasa: Yes, I did think that way [that mysticism is part of the Toraja belief system]. I’m Torajanese, and the Torajanese belief system includes praying to gods (dewa-dewa). It’s a bit similar. We know we converted to Christianity and that the majority are Christians. But my own grandmother, she still prays to gods. There are monthly rituals. But all the younger generations are Christians. I did want to bring this up during the discussion, but it was too personal, for me. Int.: What do you mean by personal? Sasa: Because it has something to do with my own personal belief. I’m not ashamed, but then perhaps they’d assume, “Oh, so Torajanese still have that kind of belief.” Or perhaps they’d ask about the people who practice this belief in Toraja.

The excerpt reveals two things. Firstly, Sasa is fully aware of the general perception towards animistic practices of the Torajanese. Her own exposure to modern education equipped her to recognise, and yet not adopt, “religious modernisation”. At the same time, however, what she has revealed of herself challenges the traditional- modern dichotomy that manifested in Banjarmasin. Sasa rationally decided which part of her ethno-religious practice is “safe” to disclose to her modern-religious friends.

Secondly, if group discussions can be seen to represent the larger socio-cultural discourse (Liebes & Katz, 1990, p. 29), Sasa’s reservation in sharing her personal beliefs in the discussion exemplifies an ongoing marginalisation of “indigenous religion” or “old religion” (Schiller, 1996, p. 409). She also related her reservations by recognising the possibility that the practice of “old religion” is something seen as backward by other participants (“Oh, so Torajanese still have that kind of belief” [Italics added]).

Lastly, in contrast to the other three cities in which Islam was the majority, the Denpasar students’ referential reading involved pluralist views and finding common ground between their Hindu background and the Islamic text. The participants admitted to have heard personally of mystic occurrences (“Someone told me such a story. Like witchdoctors”) but distanced themselves from these stories (“Because we’ve never seen this, we don’t believe it exists. Maybe if we have, we’d think differently”). Instead of “religious modernisation”, their different religious views were used to seek for common ground (“Well, the man turning into a dog perhaps could be seen as reincarnation”).

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Responses towards Munajah Cinta

While the students’ responses towards the Hidayah clip generally branch into two readings, critical and referential (Liebes and Katz, 1990), their response to Munajah Cinta is generally that of critical reading. The purpose of this chapter is not to categorise participants based on critical or referential readings but to gain a deeper understanding on how the participants engage with the clips. Therefore, I do not divide the participants’ common reactions towards Munajah Cinta between critical and referential readings as these responses are very closely related in this context.29 Even if there are referential readings, these depart from the main criticism of the clip’s representation of polygamy. The discussions in Jakarta, Banjarmasin, Makassar, and Denpasar all mention polygamy as the main issue.

Firstly, critical readings were expressed during the discussions particularly relating to the notion of polygamy. The initial common reactions among participants reflected how Indonesians generally disagree with polygamy and that the sinetron would potentially shape negative public perceptions towards those who practice it. In arguing about how Indonesians disagree with polygamous practices, the participants positioned themselves more as observers than viewers. A Denpasar student revealed that this position is due to them not relating to melodramatic sinetron, because it’s targeted for “housewives” (ibu rumah tangga). Secondly, Jakarta and Banjarmasin students claim that the Munajah Cinta clip does not even represent Islam (“I don’t think there’s any Islamic content” [Jakarta] and “I don’t think it’s an Islamic sinetron” [Banjarmasin]). When further asked, the discussion evolved into “television moralising”, in which students questioned the sinetron’s effectiveness in delivering any religious message (“The sinetron didn’t explain the reason behind polygamy” and “It’s deceiving. Media is an opinion shaper; what’s shown on television shapes the thoughts of the public”). The discussions in Jakarta and Banjarmasin suggest that the participants position television as a message disseminator that, when portraying Islam, oversimplifies religious practices (i.e. polygamy) by mixing it with other factors in order to make it sell (“Even though it sends a religious message, it also exploits other issues like love and politics so that people watch it”). The students expressed their opinions about the role of television in educating and informing viewers and its role for dakwah (see Table 6.5).

29 I revisit Liebes and Katz’s (1990) “critical/referential” model and its position within the audience reception research tradition in relation to the findings of this thesis in Chapter Nine. 149

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Thirdly, the students think that Indonesians condemn polygamy because it is a plural society (“Indonesian society in general is against polygamy. Because Indonesians are not only Muslims”). The two main contesting identities mentioned are Islamic (“The Prophet practiced polygamy to save widows”) and gendered (“Polygamy is not a trivial issue and [the sinetron] reinforces the idea that polygamy violates women’s rights” and “Every woman in Indonesia must wonder why polygamy exists. It’s gender inequality”).30 Meanwhile, the Denpasar discussion viewed polygamy as somewhat positive, in that the characters were taking the responsibility of avoiding a child raised out of wedlock. I explored further through personal interviews why this is the case.

The participants said that it is important to respect different beliefs to avoid conflict (“We accept our similarities and respected our differences”). The absence of contestation in the Denpasar discussions about polygamy suggests that they firstly treated sinetron religi as an Islamic text. This is not to say that the idea goes unchallenged by the female students (“But as a woman, I’m appalled. Who would want to be juggled [dimadu]?”), but their Hindu background led them to tolerate the differing beliefs represented in Munajah Cinta.

Lastly, the clip triggered a discussion in which the participants referred to the case of Aa Gym as an illustration of why they think Indonesians generally disagree with polygamy (“[Aa Gym] is an excellent example. The moment he practiced polygamy, Daarut Tauhid lost its appeal.31 No one was interested in him anymore. It shows that Indonesians disagree with polygamy”). Aa Gym’s case manifested in the discussions in all four cities, which indicated how his status as celebrity preacher made him a public figure and his polygamy case, a topic of public conversation. The Munajah Cinta clip triggered discussions about how, when Islamic practice goes against gender equity, the notion of Indonesia as a plural society emerges. The students show awareness of these conflicting identities.

30 Although I may seem to generalise this response into “feminism”, I would like to specify that what the students are referring to here is “equity feminism” (Sommers, 1994, p. 22). Female students of the four cities cite “being treated fairly” in both discussions and personal interviews, which is in line with this strand of feminism. 31 Chapter Two provides some background description of Aa Gym’s polygamy and decline of marketability and popularity. Daarut Tauhid is Aa Gym’s Islamic boarding school (pesantren) that I described in chapter two. 152

Responses towards Para Pencari Tuhan

In the in-depth interviews, the majority of students claimed that they related most to PPT because it was realistic and closer to their own lives as young Indonesians. The first common response is related to how the prayer scene in the PPT clip represents Indonesia’s political condition (critical reading). The second common response went beyond the sinetron clip, in which the students referred to their own notions of religion and national identity (referential reading).

Beyond Muslim Politics

Based on the discussions and personal interviews in the four cities, the participants claim that they relate most to PPT because it is “realistic, of social reality, and mirrors what’s happening in our country and society”.32 In contrast to the students’ responses to the Hidayah and Munajah Cinta clips, the students went beyond seeing this clip as an Islamic text. Even though the clip showed a very specific Islamic praying ritual in a mosque, the content of the clip triggered discussions that went beyond Islamic practices.33

Firstly, the participants related the clip to the country’s current political condition, particularly referring to the fragmentation and proliferation Islamic political parties (Ufen, 2008, pp. 5-6). The students think fragmentation hinders Indonesians working together towards a common goal (“If one group is fragmented, it will be even harder to unite with other groups”). The students were aware of the political message of the PPT clip, and substituted the political-religious context with a national one (“harmony, unity, diversity”). What was constructed through state institutions for decades, including state television TVRI, is now operating in the minds of television viewers (see Table 6.6).

32 For a complete list of keywords, see Appendix 6.4. 33 Firstly, although there is a possibility that this different response is because of the order of the clip showing, I argue that it is more in relation to the PPT clip’s “open text” (Eco, 1979, p. 9) characteristic. In the clip, the characters related an Islamic ritual to Muslim politics, which triggered the students to relate an Islamic text to a public discussion. Secondly, I argue that these are the orders in which the sinetron religi emerged as a television trend by “market” demand. Showing the PPT clip last represents the rise of the alternative sinetron religi as a response towards the commodification of Islam in supernatural and melodramatic sinetron religi. I mention this order briefly at the end of Chapter Five. 153

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Secondly, the students saw the simplistic Hidayah clip and the patriarchic Munajah Cinta clip as a one-sided view of Islam. This led them to respond to PPT as an “open text” (Eco, 1979, p. 9), in spite of its Islamic content, with their national identity. This is because their sense of nationhood includes the possibility of various different cultural representations coexisting. The homogenous representation of Islam both constructs a dominant portrayal of televised Islamic culture and triggers a sense of agency in the students to revisit their notion of religious diversity. The students further argued for the diversity of religious groups in Indonesia (“Islam is not the only religion in Indonesia” [Jakarta], “The message is universal. It can be implemented not only by Muslims” [Makassar]).

Religious diversity was generally expressed by the Muslim students, but this is not to say that non-Muslims students did not share their opinions.34 During the discussions, the non-Muslims were generally silent to avoid debates, but they revealed what they think during personal interviews. A Chinese-Protestant in Banjarmasin expressed her unwitting acceptance of the dominance Islamic representation in sinetron nowadays (“In a way, television stations have already aired other religious shows, like Christmas shows during Christmas or Nyepi as well. But we live in Indonesia, the majority is Muslim”). This opinion is further elaborated by a Protestant Torajanese student:

Well, there is some degree of tolerance in television but it is not balanced. There are shows on Sundays for Christians and also for Hindus and Buddhists. But, I’m sorry to say this, there are too many Islamic shows. Seven days a week. Whereas Christian shows, not all stations air them on Sundays. But concerning tolerance, especially religious, none of them trigger conflicts (Ivan [pseudonym], personal communication, October 14, 2011).

Non-Muslim students recognise the imbalance in religious representation and are also aware that the cause of it is the commercial nature of the television system. They contrast this against the realities of Indonesia as a plural country in which various religious groups exist. Because non-Muslim students in Jakarta, Banjarmasin, and Makassar are minorities, these opinions were revealed in private. In Denpasar, however, the feeling of religious marginalisation is expressed openly in the discussion.

34 In Jakarta, the Protestant student voiced her opinion against the majority Muslim students, but because she was outnumbered the opinion did not cause a shift in the topic of the discussion. In Banjarmasin and Makassar, the Catholic and Protestant students did not even voice their own opinions on religious marginalisation by sinetron religi. 155

Int.: How do you feel then about the fact that there are many sinetron religi? Tri: Hmm, I feel... Gede: Dominated. Int.: What do you mean? Tri: Marginalised. Sari: But on the other hand, the majority of Indonesians are Muslims. So it’s only natural that most of our television programmes are Islamic because most of the audience is Muslim. Gede: That’s true, the majority is Muslim. It would be unfair to represent only Hindus. The Muslims would protest, because [in the larger context] Muslims are the majority. Int.: How do you feel as people who are not Muslims then, towards these programmes? Tri: Marginalised. Sari: I think it’s only appropriate. Made: I wondered actually. Why are the sinetron only Islamic. Mei: Yes, why not all religions? Hindu, Christian. The religion in Indonesia is not only Islam.

The discussion excerpts show that the PPT clip triggered the Muslim students to acknowledge religious diversity and non-Muslim students to express their feeling of religious marginalisation. There are several important issues in relation to this. Firstly, the students in general are aware of commercial factors and thus recognised that television programmes are part of an industry (“So it’s only natural that most of our television programmes are Islamic because most of the audience is Muslim”). The discussion theme among non-Muslims shifted into the second issue of religious marginalisation. The abundance of Islamic sinetron triggers the feeling of being marginalised among non-Muslim, which was also made possible by the open-text characteristic of PPT. Lastly, while dominance of Muslim majority also manifests in the Jakarta, Banjarmasin, and Makassar discussions, religious marginalisation emerged as a theme in the Denpasar discussion. After raising the issue of religious marginalisation, the theme of discussions in all cities widened to include other cultural identities that are marginalised as a consequence of the television industry’s capitalist logic. The students began discussing more abstract notions of religion as sub-nation and national identity.

Religion as Sub-Nation

The PPT clip initiated a common debate on the role of Islam in particular and religion in general as part of Indonesian national identity. The students in all cities talked about their own ideas of what constitutes Indonesian identity, and positioned Islam as one of the religious groups that comprise the nation (see Table 6.7).

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The pluralist view revealed in the discussion challenged the supposed dominance of Islamic representation on television in several ways. Firstly, the students emphasised that Islam is one of the religions in Indonesia and religion is one of the many attributes that comprise the nation.35 This reclamation of Indonesia’s religious diversity is reproduced in the minds of television viewers as a reaction towards the dominance of Islamic representation. Secondly, the excerpt revealed an awareness of religious marginalisation in television practice, and also drew on the importance of television as a medium to integrate a plural nation.

The students also claim that religion, like ethnic culture, is a component of Indonesian nationhood. And Islam, despite being the religion with most followers, is one of the many religions that comprise the country’s identity. This opinion contrasts with the Banjarmasin discussion that reveals the students’ acceptance of Islam as a great part of national culture, because it is natural for a country’s identity to reflect the majority of its members (“Our country is dominated by Muslims, which means the country reflects the majority of its people who are Muslims”).

However, this contestation is resolved in the discussions by seeking universality, a common ground or rearticulating their own notion of national culture. This is particularly in response to a religious-national culture to which the students do not relate. They instead seek for an acknowledgement of particularity as a means for unification or “politics of representation” (Barker, 2003, p. 445). Television, in this case, is expected by the students to become a space within which sub-national identities under nationhood may co-exist.

The medium is seen ideally to weave together these differences and inform Indonesian viewers of religious and ethnic difference to manage conflicts that may rise from the denial of minority sub-nations. For the students, an informed understanding of the “the politics of difference” (Gupta & Ferguson, 1992) is essential in an inclusive national identity and televised representation is crucial. The Denpasar discussion embodied this common response below:

35 In several personal interviews, the students also mentioned five (not six) recognised faiths, still excluding Confucianism that was acknowledged in 2000 under President Abdurrahman Wahid. The respondents also did not mention autochthonous religion or minority religious groups that are currently persecuted by hard-line Islamists. Those students who implied the country had only recognised five religions were not corrected by any other students, indicating that Confucianism is overlooked. 159

Made: Indonesia has five official religions, and these religions are also dispersed throughout the islands… The majority are Muslims, but this doesn’t mean that other religions could be... What’s the correct term. Sari: Second-rated? (dianaktirikan) Made: Yes, second-rated. Because even though a majority, there could be inter-religious cooperation. Int.: What do you mean? Made: Television programmes side with Muslims. It would be nice if there are also other religious programmes. Sari: Indonesia has many religions, like it has many [ethnic] cultures. Because we are diverse, we should be one… So it’s a matter of respecting other religions. Int.: And how does television play a role in this? Made: To avoid conflict through information. If there is disregard towards other religions, there could be conflicts… So we should understand our differences, between religions, how they practice their belief. If we want to be unified, we should accept our similarities and respect our differences.

Thirdly, the discussions in general revealed that there are several important sub-national attributes that the students reclaim in reaction to the dominance of Islamic representation in sinetron religi. These recognitions are meaningful to the students to resolve the tension that televised commercial Islam has triggered. Several of the attributes reclaimed are “islands, tribes, religions, ethnic groups, common crises, cultures, songs, traditional dances, lifestyles”. When I asked further what kinds of traditional dances and songs they think are Indonesian, the answers included only the attributes of the more dominant ethnic groups, such as Batik, Tari Saman, and the song Rasa Sayange.

The students also only mentioned the religions acknowledged by the state, and excluded Confucianism from these. Picard (1997, p. 193) mentions that the role of ethnicity and religion in nation building since Independence and particularly throughout the New Order was marked by managing a plural society. The state recognised mainly the major ethnic and religious groups as having the highest cultural achievement, and showing evidence of “civilisation” in order to support nation building. Ethnic and religious minorities who are not perceived as sharing this quality are clustered together as if sharing a common “primitive” nature (Colchester, 1986; Picard, 1997). Although the students showed some form of resistance towards the dominance of Islamic representation on television by reclaiming ethnic and religious diversity, this diversity is limited to “civilised” ethnic and religious groups.

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Conclusion

I have described how the students in Jakarta, Banjarmasin, Makassar, and Denpasar responded to clips selected from sinetron religi Hidayah, Munajah Cinta, and Para Pencari Tuhan. Two important issues are raised in this chapter. Firstly, the dominance of Islam in religious representations on television mirrors the social realities of non- Muslim students. Conversely, the realisation that they are religious minorities equips them with skills to anticipate and avoid conflicts. In contrast, when non-Muslim students are the majority in their social environment such as in Denpasar, they express their awareness that they are religious minorities in Indonesia (“Because even though [Islam is] a majority, there could be inter-religious cooperation”), whereas non-Muslim students in other cities did not raise the issue.

The Denpasar students demanded television play a role in managing potential intergroup conflicts, as they themselves feel marginalised by Islamic content dominating Indonesian television practices (“So we should understand our difference, between religions, how they practice their belief”). With better understanding on how other religious groups practice their beliefs, the Denpasar students believe that viewers may accept difference better. Even though all non-Muslim viewers are aware that television shapes a religious-national space that marginalises non-Islamic groups, they are not all equally engaged in negotiating the role of religious difference in their public and private lives. There is a line between their private (daily lives) and public (television) spaces in exercising their awareness of religious marginalisation or the “politics of piety” (Mahmoud, 2007).

Secondly, the discussion themes that emerged in response to these Islamic texts revealed important notions surrounding the subordination of one identity to another. Firstly, students subordinate old, traditional religion against modern, rational religion (Hidayah) or “religious modernisation” (Schiller, 1996). Secondly, conservative Islamic practices, namely polygamy, are moderated by “equity-feminism” (Sommers, 1994; Munajah Cinta). And thirdly, the representation of Islamic rituals, combined with the “open-text” characteristic of the third clip (Eco, 1979), was subordinated against various “sub-national identities” (Anderson, 1991). The students reacted towards the dominance of Islam in sinetron religi, which they recognised is made possible through the capitalist logic of the television industry, by reclaiming and rearticulating national identity.

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Thirdly, in rearticulating their national identity, students mainly reclaimed religious and ethnic diversity as sub-national identities. Other “sub-national identities” mentioned in their response to the sinetron religi clips, such as class, gender, youth culture, were excluded. This exclusion indicates that the characteristics of national culture as imagined by the students are legacies of New Order’s national consciousness that tried to maintain national stability by managing social, ethnic, religious fragmentation in favour of national integration (Anderson, 1991; Kitley, 2000; Sen and Hill, 2000). Although the students recognised religious and ethnic diversity, they reclaim the importance of national unity (“It is better to be united as one broom than be separated as single straws. We’d break easily”, “We need to harmonise our views and ways of thinking”). This is why in the next chapter, I study areas that have gone through, or are currently going through, separatist movements to explore how mainstream Islam challenges the social diversity acknowledged by the constitution.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

COMPETING IDENTITIES

Literature written on Indonesia‘s television landscape after its commercialisation has taken note of how its infrastructure has been centred in Jakarta in particular and Java in general (Kitley, 2000; Sen & Hill, 2000; Sudibyo, 2004; Armando, 2011). National narratives presented by the only medium that still has nationwide scope is led by the industry‘s reading of the cultural practices in 10 cities monitored by Nielsen (the country‘s only rating body). Television programmes are produced according to what is interpreted by television stations as the tastes and needs of audiences in five cities in Java (Jakarta, Surabaya, Semarang, Bandung, Yogyakarta), two cities in Sumatra (Palembang, Medan), and one city each in Bali, Kalimantan, and Sulawesi (Denpasar, Banjarmasin, Makassar respectively). Although in the previous chapter I have attempted to differentiate between the cities that I include in my research, namely Jakarta (Java), Denpasar (Bali), Banjarmasin (Kalimantan), and Makassar (Sulawesi), these four cities still represent the dominant taste or view that constructs a televised national culture.

This chapter extends on Chapter Six in exploring the viewers‘ interpretations of sinetron religi. However, in contrast to Chapter Six, this chapter focuses on viewers not in Nielsen-surveyed cities, asking ‗would their local identities be in conflict with the dominant view constructed by ―Jakarta‖ television‖? In doing this, I selected two cities, namely Banda Aceh (NAD—Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam) and Jayapura (Papua).1 The purpose of this chapter is to investigate how ―modern‖, local, marginalised identities of young ―Indonesians‖ interact with dominant, commercially successful religious television programmes.

Like Chapter Six, Chapter Seven is divided into three large sections based on the students‘ reactions to each sinetron clip, preceded by a brief explanation of the cultural context of the province, city, and school. I contrast the findings from Banda Aceh with those from Jayapura based on the students‘ responses to each clip, particularly regarding how the students‘ responses compare with each other and why. Patterns of common responses did not emerge between Banda Aceh and Jayapura students as they had in the previous four cities.

1 Chapter One provides the rationalisation for selecting these two cities. 163

The local identities that manifested in each area highlight different and particular ideological resistance. Therefore Chapter Seven is structured differently than Chapter Six that had followed Liebes and Katz‘s (1990) ―critical/referential‖ model.2 Thus, Chapter Seven separates the analysis of Banda Aceh and Jayapura students towards each sinetron clip.

Cultural Context

Soon after the end of Suharto‘s regime growing ethnic divisions emerged in the country. For decades, several regions had experienced inter-ethnic conflict stemming from deprivation of their rights to manage their own affairs (Sukma, 2003, p. 65). Later, in 1999, inter-religious conflicts, such as the Ambon riots in Maluku (between Muslims and Christians), occurred, which some observers attributed to Christians feeling alienated from the growing dominant role of Muslim figures in local government (Khoiri, 2011; Hermawan, 2006).

This growing tension was seen as a result of alienation and deprivation that ―not only produced inter-ethnic or inter-religious conflict within a society (the horizontal conflict), but also brought about a more serious conflict between the state and the region in the form of separatist challenge to the existing state structure (vertical conflict)‖ (Sukma, 2003, p. 66). In regards to the two provinces in which are located the cities studied in this chapter, Sukma explains three important dimensions to both separatist struggles:

First, there is a strong feeling in the two regions that the centre was trying to eliminate their distinct ethnic and religious identity. The problem was exacerbated by the fact that ethnic and religious identity often served as the basis for such separatist challenge. In Aceh, for example, the amalgam of religious and ethnic identity forms as a powerful basis by which the separatist movement distinguish themselves from the rest of Indonesia. Second, both the local elite and the society in Aceh and West Papua feel that they were alienated and deprived economically by the centre. Third, such feelings turned into hatred when the centre responded harshly, through military means and state terror, to repress any regional grievances. When the state structure that sustained such military means crumbled, the separatist drive grew stronger and even challenged the nation‘s territorial integrity and survival of the state itself (2003, p. 66).

2 I make several notes in Chapter Nine based on the limitations I experienced of Liebes and Katz‘s (1990) model. 164

Studies dealing with Acehnese and Papuan cultural identity often mention the separatist movements.3 In Aceh, the movement was motivated by a strong sense of local identity to which ―Jakarta‖ did not respond well, which further exacerbated the initially small rebellion of the Free Aceh Movement (GAM—Gerakan Aceh Merdeka) into a collective demand for formal secession. The decades during which the New Order regime declared Aceh a Military Operational Area (DOM—Daerah Operasi Militer) were largely seen to have cultivated secessionist aspirations.

In 2004, a Tsunami took the lives of 170,000 and became the catalyst for the Helsinki Peace Process. This ended nearly three decades of conflicts and failed ceasefire agreements with an historic peace agreement on 15 August 2005 between GAM and the Indonesian Government giving Aceh a high degree of genuine autonomy (Aspinall, 2005; Aspinall, 2008; Kristanto, 2008). As Peaceful State of Aceh (NAD—Nanggore Aceh Darussalam), Aceh was designated a special administrative region with special autonomy (otonomi khusus) which in theory gave Acehnese a greater level of local autonomy than other Indonesian provinces (Kingsbury, 2006).

Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam is a multicultural province within a multicultural state. Hence, its political leaders not only face the need to integrate ethnic and cultural diversity into a regional framework, but also have to define Aceh‘s role within the Indonesian nation. During its violent past, which was characterized by exploitation and military oppression, there were good reasons to emphasize sameness over diversity and to build up the consciousness of a unified Acehnese identity. From both an emic and etic perspective, it is today widely accepted that there is such a thing as a homogeneous Acehnese culture which is rooted in a glorious, though troublesome, history of repression and rebellion and shaped by a strong Islamic piety (Schröter, 2010, p. 157).

In contrast to Aceh, scholars trace the separatist movement in Papua back to the colonial political structures of the Netherlands East Indies and Netherlands New Guinea (Sugandi, 2008; Chauvel, 2005; Chauvel, 2007). One of the central themes in a Dutch study of the Papuan political elite of the early 1960s was the antagonism felt by many Papuans against Indonesians (Chauvel, 2005, p. 49). Increasing numbers of Indonesians from all over the country coming to Papua played a dominant role in the local economy. This competition between such settlers and Papuans, that began in colonial times and continues until today, has defined their identity as well as the

3 I cite on the works of Aspinall, 2005; Aspinall, 2008; Kristanto, 2008 for Acehnese culture and Chauvel, 2005; Sugandi, 2008; and McGibbon, 2004 for Papuan culture. 165 identities of the various sub-ethnicities totalling some 250 ethno-linguistic groups (Chauvel 2003; Chauvel, 2005).

There is a paradox about Papuan identity. Expressions of Papuan identity vis-à- vis other groups, particularly Indonesians, are made in very clear terms: ‗we‘ Papuans and ‗you‘ Indonesia. The differences with Indonesians are expressed in simple, physiological, cultural and ethnic terms. Externally, Papuan identity is an ethnic identity. In its political expression, it is an ethnic nationalism. The leading pro-independence organisation, the Presidium, is a Papuan ethnic organisation (Chauvel, 2003, p. 121).

Christianity is a significant element in Papuan identity (Widjojo et al., 2008; Chauvel, 2005; Kivimaki, 2006). Churches were in fact Papuans‘ first contact with the ―modern‖ world, although soon after government and business followed (Giay, 2006). In 1965, the tension between the Indonesian government and the Papua Council had led to the founding of the Free Papua Organisation (OPM—Organisasi Papua Merdeka).4 During the New Order, Amnesty International reported more than 100,000 killings of Papuans who were accused of links to the OPM (Langenheim, 2012; Gawler, 2005; Tebay, 2005). In 2000, in an attempt to subdue separatist aspirations initiated by the OPM, then President Abdurrahman Wahid assigned special autonomy to the Papua Province (Sugandi, 2008; Chauvel, 2005; Halmin, 2006).

Like Papua‘s special autonomy laws, Aceh‘s were also a response to rapidly growing separatist movements which had strengthened in both areas following the collapse of the authoritarian regime (Shaw, 2008; Schulze, 2004; McGibbon, 2004). GAM‘s separatist movement was seen to be deep and ideological, while OPM‘s is tribal and regional (McGibbon, 2004, p. 20). Despite this difference though, ―by granting special political, economic, and cultural rights to Aceh and Papua, the laws represented a significant departure from the ways Jakarta had traditionally managed ethnic relations‖ (McGibbon, 2004, p. 1).

Teachers that I have interviewed from the two high-reputation state high schools selected also revealed ideological and pedagogical changes after the fall of Suharto. According to the Jayapura Vice Principal, before 1998, students were much more

4 According to Wing & King (2005, p. 1), to ensure the referendum resulted in incorporation into Indonesia, from 1963 onwards Indonesia worked to remove a sense of Papuan identity from the community. This included banning the singing of the Papuan national anthem, the raising of the Morning Star flag, and all political assembly. 166 respectful towards teachers compared to the current egalitarian relationship (M. Wuyasa [pseudonym], personal communication, October 17, 2011).5 Wuyasa also commended teachers who use more democractic means to select the school‘s student representative body, which he communicated in a more positive light compared to the previous statement. In contrast to Wuyasa, the Banda Aceh school Principal regarded the changes after Suharto as uniformly positive. He states that his responsibility as state employee is to implement government regulation in the national education sector (Yanuardi [pseudonym], personal communication, August 8, 2011). He thinks that the regulation to support critical thinking among students is progressive and has encouraged creative thinking among his own students.

The Jayapura school that I visited was first established as a school for the children of migrant workers, coming predominantly from Java and Sumatra. As the school rose in ranking and reputation, the Jayapura government allocated funding to open affirmative classes as part of local government regulations under the special autonomy law to better support indigenous students – resulting in two annual admission intakes: one for general students (including indigenous students) and the other is the affirmative class (exclusively indigenous students).6

While indigenous students enrolled in the school‘s regular programmes are more inclined towards multicultural ideas, indigenous students admitted via the affirmative admission stream into special classes are, according to one such student interviewed, inclined to feel more privileged as they are being funded by the local government (M. Wuyasa [pseudonym], personal communication, October 17, 2011). According to Wuyasa and the students I interviewed, the subsidy has shaped a feeling of privilege among affirmative class students, which worsens the pre-existing tensions between migrant students and teachers on the one hand, and indigenous students on the other.

5 Based on my own observation at the school, Wuyasa‘s discontent at the decrease in student respect for teachers may be related to his own Balinese background. The growing dissent towards ―settlers‖ continues to rise as pro-OPM sentiments become more widespread. 6 In this chapter, I interview students from the affirmative class. 167

Figure 7.1. Jayapura School. Left: Jayapura school‘s assembly field, used for weekly flag ceremonies. Right: Mural promoting diversity, drawn by students.

The Banda Aceh state boarding school that I visited was founded in 1994 as an ambitious project by the NAD Provincial Education Department (Kantor Wilayah Depdikbud) to improve the education for students with extraordinary academic achievements to allow them to excel. In an interview with its principal, Yanuardi, he revealed that the school hopes to produce future leaders of Aceh who will achieve national and international recognition with ―a German head and a Meccan heart‖. Yanuardi also revealed that the school has just awarded three of their alumni, a pop singer, a doctor, and a pilot, with a school award. The award signifies that the school appreciates modern achievements and professions, while Yanuardi‘s own slogan for the school stresses both modernity and Islamic piety.

Figure 7.2. Banda Aceh School. Left: Banda Aceh school‘s assembly field, used for weekly flag ceremonies. Middle: Building wall facing assembly field. Right: Wall on building opposite to middle picture.

This view is solidified in two murals on the building walls surrounding the assembly field. The first mural is a drawing of technicians and an airplane to symbolise modernity through envisioning scientific and industrial progress. The writing on the wall says, in English, ―The best preparation for tomorrow is to do today‘s work superbly‖. The second mural is a picture a great mosque with an Arabic inscription of

168 the Hadith that translates as ―Work on behalf of the world as if you will live forever, and pray for the afterlife as if you will die tomorrow‖ (Bekerjalah kamu untuk dunia seakan-akan kamu hidup selamanya dan beramallah untuk akhiratmu seakan kamu mati besok; see Figure 7.2).

There are several differences between these two schools. The Banda Aceh teachers and students have global awareness and are keen their students can compete with ―Jakarta and Java‖ standards (Yanuardi [pseudonym], personal communication, August 8, 2011). The students are very keen on participating in national competitions, such as English debates, and students who go to Java for such competitions are seen as high achievers. During my fieldwork, the Jayapura teachers and students did not demonstrate such awareness or a desire to compete with Jakarta standards.

Table 7.1 Participants Background (Banda Aceh and Jayapura)

City Name Gender Religion Ethno-Cultural (Pseudonym) Background Banda Arif Male Islam Gayoh Aceh Indra Male Islam Aceh Dani Male Islam Aceh Ira Female Islam Aceh Fani Female Islam Aceh Nur Female Islam Aceh Jayapura Bari Male Protestant Christianity n/a7 Domingo Male Protestant Christianity Biak Enda Male Protestant Christianity Serui Ciara Female Protestant Christianity Sentani Della Female Protestant Christianity Bonggo Prita Female Islam Fakfak Source: personal interview.

One of the affirmative students mentioned that, ―Our choice is between being exploited by central elites or local elites. Either way, we are exploited‖ (Bari [pseudonym], personal communication, October 18, 2011). In the Banda Aceh school, there is a negotiation between global awareness and national competitiveness. In the Jayapura school, there is a contestation between resisting central elites or local elites. This theme emerged several times during the discussions, which manifests through the students‘ responses towards the clips shown to them. All of the students that

7 Mentions he has lived in Surabaya, East Java. 169 participated in the discussions were part of at least one student organisation or extra curricular club.8

Aside from the students‘ background, having a general overview of the students‘ television practice is important to understand how they use television and its role in their lives. The students were generally familiar with the types of sinetron showed to them. Most are light viewers (less than two hours a day) of these sinetron and a few are heavy viewers (more than four hours a day; Gerbner, Gross, Morgan, & Signorielli, 2002; see Table 7.2).9

Table 7.2 Participants’ Television Practice

City Television Perception towards Television Perception towards Local Practice Television Banda 4-5 Students‘ television practice is Most of the students do not watch Aceh hours/day dominated by ―Jakarta‖ television local television because of the low programmes and ‗Western‘ quality in broadcasting compared to programmes through cable national television. They watch local television and pirated DVDs. The television by ‗coincidence‘, or when students feel that there is a lack of ―it‘s there‖. They do, however, desire local quality content in national more local content to be shown on television. They also feel that non- national television so that it can be of Muslims understand why there are better ―quality‖ (e.g. educative, so many religious (Islamic) shows informative) and attract a wider on television (large market). audience. Jayapura 1-3 Students watch television for Most of the students watch local hours/day entertainment and information. television for entertainment shows, They watch national television to particularly those that portray local gain information from outside of customs and culture (such as Mop Papua (including foreign content (Papuan comedy) and traditional like South Korean pop culture) and songs). Although they think that the to enjoy entertainment that is of quality is mediocre and the shows not better quality. The students feel innovative, they have a sense of pride that national television is in watching them. Even so, the dominated by, Javanese, and students‘ total amount of time spent Islamic culture. The students feel watching local programmes is still far that national television does not less than national television incorporate local culture into programmes. shows and tends only to broadcast news on conflicts or negative events in Papua. They hope that national television can play a role in reporting real conditions (culture) in Papua. Source: personal interview.

8 I observed that the reason for choosing these students was in reference to my own letter of request for the participating students having to be active, outspoken, and able to express their opinions. 9 The students in Banda Aceh admit to being active internet users who spend more hours accessing the internet than watching television, while the students in Jayapura admit to watching television more often than using the internet. Banda Aceh students mainly access the internet through their smartphones and have Facebook, Twitter, Plurk, and Blog accounts while Jayapura students mainly access it through school computers. 170

Some students even showed some parasocial relationship to the characters (McQuail, 2005, p. 565). Like respondents in Jakarta, Denpasar, Banjarmasin, and Makassar, they admit to going through channels randomly then pausing when they see a sinetron religi because these programmes are generally visually interesting, not because they follow the plots. The cultural context of the provinces, cities, and schools and the students‘ social demography and television practice establishes a context for this chapter. In the next section, I explain the students‘ pattern of responses towards the respective clips shown to them.10

Responses towards Hidayah

Before exploring the content of the Hidayah clip, the students in Banda Aceh and Jayapura expressed awareness of the commercial logic of the television industry and reasons for Islamic representation within it. Firstly, the students see sinetron as a cultural product, in that these programmes are produced mainly to attract the largest possible viewership. The plot becomes formulaic and predictable, which makes it uninteresting for them to watch. Secondly, as part of ―risk aversion‖ (Barkin, 2004), sinetron themes portray Islamic piety to attract a Muslim audience. This, to them, explains the proliferation of Islamic-themes during the Ramadan.

They mainly think that Islamic attributes in sinetron are not included to propagate the faith but to create an ―atmosphere‖ (suasana) for easier marketing. Thirdly, they claim that, although religious celebrations are seen as marketing opportunities, the themes are mainly homogenous. In this case, the programmes are saturated with Islamic themes because the majority of the television market comprise of Muslims, making it commercially unlikely the television industry would represent other religions. The respondents positioned sinetron religi within the framework of Indonesian television as a culture industry, which allows limited diversity of content (Doyle, 2002; Bagdikian, 2004).

10 While common responses from students emerged in Jakarta, Denpasar, Makassar, and Banjarmasin, there were no common responses between Banda Aceh and Jayapura students. When I mention ―common response‖ in the following, it is to refer to the common responses within the group of students in each city. 171

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Banda Aceh students read the clip relating it to irrationality and the image of Islam, while the Jayapura students resisted such representations by claiming their own religious identity (Protestant Christianity). The former response is related to referential reading while the latter suggests critical reading (Liebes & Katz, 1990). In the case of Banda Aceh students, referential reading on mysticism in Hidayah did not emerge in the group discussion. However, during personal interviews, students shared more of their personal experiences on supernatural practices.

Acehnese’s Modern Islam

The students in both Banda Aceh and Jayapura referred to their own religious identity in their response to the Hidayah clip. There are three main features that manifested in the Banda Aceh discussion. Firstly, the Banda Aceh students own religious identity that is inexorably related to Aceh‘s Sharia practices. This is shown in their criticising a media text that they perceive as ―not Islamic‖. Instead of seeking commonalities between their own Islamic practices with the practices represented in Hidayah (such as how the Denpasar students had responded), the Banda Aceh students positioned the sinetron as an object of analysis. As detached observers, they situated Hidayah as a commercial product that employs Islamic packaging to give it religious authority (―[The viewers think] it must be educative because it‘s religious‖) and to exploit sensationalism (―These absurd titles attract people, but the message is lost in its entertainment value‖).

Ira: Between scepticism and belief (percaya ngga percaya). Int.: What do you mean by that? Ira: Well… Indra: Unrealistic. Weird. In ordinary life, such things don‘t happen. Ira: But it‘s based on a true story. Arif: I think the purpose of the sinetron is good, because it aims to give us a lesson. The moral of the story is visualised so that it‘s easier to digest by many people, so they can learn the lesson. I think it‘s actually good. Int.: Any other thoughts? Indra: I think that if sinetron try to teach us things that seldom occur in ordinary life, even if there‘s a moral of the story, it becomes ineffective because the viewers can think that it‘s not reality. It‘s only fictional. Maybe it would be more effective to raise issues that happen on a daily basis. Ira: Well, people feel it‘s only a myth (legenda), only told to scare us. Fani: Yes and people tend to not believe it, so the message is not delivered to viewers.

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Secondly, the Banda Aceh students (like Muslim students from Jakarta, Makassar, and Banjarmasin), claim that the show is not educative, particularly as the students take the position of the detached observer and moralise (―Depends on the viewers. If they‘re able to recognise the substance, it‘s good. But if they think the show is mainly to trigger fear, it‘s not‖). The Acehnese students regarded the sinetron as projecting a bad image of Islam because it was unrealistic (―I think the rating goes up because it‘s unrealistic‖ and ―Shapes a bad image [of Islam]‖). But, unlike Muslim students in the aforementioned cities, irrationality and mysticism was not a theme that dominated the Banda Aceh discussion. Instead, a student related it to a fantasy film (Harry Potter).

The students‘ arguments were centred on how both types, supernatural sinetron religi and Harry Potter, are ―Unrealistic. Weird. In ordinary life, such things don‘t happen‖ and this is why they sell. The Banda Aceh students‘ used Harry Potter as an example, instead of citing their own personal experiences with mystic or supernatural occurrence like the students did in other cities.11 By comparing it with the non-Islamic text Harry Potter, the Banda Aceh students distanced the Islamic content from supernatural representation in the clip. This suggests that they normalise its irrationality while isolating its Islamic content (―Even if there‘s a moral of the story, it becomes ineffective because the viewers can think that it‘s not reality‖).

The discussion was continued with a comment on how, when attempting to propagate religious values, packaging such values in rituals and cultural habits is more effective than representing fear and punishment (―Making a habit of praying is better than showing punishments‖ and ―Maybe it would be more effective to raise issues that happen on a daily basis‖), which suggests the students‘ emphasis on social reality in Islamic propagation through television.

Thirdly, while Muslim students in Jakarta, Denpasar, Makassar, and Banjarmasin also mentioned representing irrationality is not educative, they related this with ―religious modernisation‖ that marginalises old religion (Schiller, 1996). The Banda Aceh students, on the other hand, compared irrationality to a global cultural product. While the former performs religious modernity within a national consciousness, the latter is performance of religious modernity within a global consciousness. Their practice of

11 See Chapter Six for audience responses in Jakarta, Banjarmasin, Makassar, and Denpasar. 174

Islamic teachings involves compatibility between their views on modernity (i.e. progress, higher education, belief in rationality, economic sustainability in NAD) that centres on Islamic piety. This piety excludes the dichotomy between ―old and modern religion‖ that is apparent in other cities, including detaching and calling the show a myth or legend (―Well, people feel it‘s only a myth [legenda], only told to scare us‖).

The discussion in Banda Aceh was guided by critical reading. Referential reading towards Hidayah was done in only one personal interview.12 The most vocal student in the Banda Aceh discussion revealed in the personal interview that there are also urban legends similar to the plots in Hidayah in Acehnese culture. ―It happened in Aceh. Someone, in anger, kicked his parents while they were praying and turned into a fish. I heard that story‖ (Dani [pseudonym], personal communication, August 9, 2011).

He disclosed that he learned this through his family and that although he had not experienced it firsthand he believed it to be true. When further asked why he did not mention this during the discussion, he said that there is no use believing such things. It does not help him progress in life, in which, among other things, sound planning for the future and hard work play a more significant social role. His dissonance on having some personal exposure to supernatural stories was normalised by modern Islamic life and its denominators (higher education, profession, being the ―bread winner‖ [pencari nafkah]).

“We” Christians, “You” Muslims

The Jayapura students, on the other hand, responded to the Hidayah clip by reclaiming their Protestant identity and resisting the Islamic content altogether (―Because we aren‘t Muslims, we understand it differently‖, ―I don‘t understand the story‖, ―Especially when verses are mentioned‖, and ―Because it‘s religious, we, as Christians, can‘t relate‖).13 The Jayapura students‘ critical reading here interchanges with referential

12 The respondent revealing this information was born and raised in Meulaboh, West Aceh known for a stricter practice of Islam. Another respondent revealed that the Islamic law is implemented more rigorously in the area; an example he gave was that female Muslims were not allowed to wear pants. Female Sharia Law Officers (Polisi Syariah—Wilayatul Hisbah) are known to ask them to exchange their pants with a long skirt that they make available for these occurrences (Dani [pseudonym], personal communication, August 9, 2011). 13 The two main denominations of Christianity acknowledged by the Indonesian state are Protestantism and Catholicism. Although the Jayapura students‘ are Protestant, like the television and sinetron producers I interviewed, they subsumed this under Christianity. 175 reading. They resist Islamic content by distinguishing between ―we‖ Christians and ―you‖ Muslims (I borrow Chauvel‘s ‗we‘ Papuans and ‗you‘ Indonesians). I compare this response with the Denpasar students‘ attempt to find commonalities between Hinduism and Islam through associating reincarnation with the representation of mysticism in Hidayah.14 Such divisions cannot be explained through grouping responses between critical and referential. The Jayapura students‘ response towards the Hidayah clip cannot be separated from their social realities in distinguishing their own from Indonesian values by emphasising and linking together their Christianity and nationalism.15

The discussion is then continued by highlighting the Jakarta dialect in the sinetron (―It‘s confusing, the way [the characters in sinetron] speak‖ and, while mimicking Jakarta slang, ―Lo gue getoh‖, mockingly). However, although I did not speak to them with a Papuan accent (nor with a distinctively Jakartan one), they did not find my formal Indonesian offensive. The Jayapura students‘ response to language use suggests that what they distinguish is not so much about ―you‖ Indonesians, but ―you‖ Jakartans.

In personal interviews, it was revealed that what the students criticise was not Indonesian nationality itself, but the dominance of Jakarta in national infrastructure and affairs, as well as the stereotype of Javanese culture as representative of Indonesia‘s culture. The excerpt below, which is an extension to the discussion on the Hidayah clip, illustrates this point:

Bari: These new settlers… They use lo-gue, lo-gue16, it‘s their habit but it shows arrogance. Domingo: They are the ones who are unwilling to adjust to local culture. Ciara: Sometimes they see [us] as villagers who are incapable while they, Jakarta being the centre, they think they are more able than us. Technologically, [their] competence, materially… We are still below standard, just below them. So sometimes they underestimate us, when we are not [less]. We have our own competences.

The excerpt above illustrates the dichotomy between Jakarta (centre) and Papua (periphery; Wallerstein, 2011). When the Jayapura students mentioned ―they‖, they

14 See Chapter Six for the Denpasar students‘ response. 15 I borrow Chauvel‘s (2005, p. 50) explanation on the interconnectedness between the notion of nationalism and Papuan ethnicity. 16 Code switching in this context refers to switching from one dialect/language to another that is non- standard Indonesian, which often happens on television. Some come from Betawi dialect, such as the word lu (you) instead of the formal Indonesian Anda (Irawan, 2005, p. 1). 176 were referring specifically to Jakarta-Indonesians and by ―we‖ they meant all Papuans (―Every area has its own culture. Like Serui, Sentani, every area is different. Biak. Every area has its own tribes, every tribe has its own culture‖). The dominance recognised by Jayapura students is that of Jakarta-directed socio-economic infrastructure over their own, and the identity they use to resist this dominance is their own multi-ethnic culture. While they feel subordinated economically, they feel superior in terms of the richness of their own ethnic culture (―We have more [ethnic] culture. More unique than the Javanese‖, ―There are more than 300 tribes and dialects in Papua‖).

The Jayapura students‘ rejection of Islamic content in the Hidayah clip cannot be isolated just to their Christian identity resisting Islamic content. Their resistance towards Hidayah is both related to their Christian identity as well as their feeling of Papua being subordinated by Jakarta. Although the responses went beyond the Hidayah clip (in fact the students did not speak at all about the representations within the clip), their interpretation stayed within the context of Indonesia as a nation state.

My own use of standard Indonesian did not offend them. It was the use of Jakarta slang in the Hidayah clip, as well as sinetron in general, that they took as offensive. In relation to the notion of reclaiming their Christian identity in response to the Islamic content in Hidayah, another part of the discussion reveals that Christianity can be a common denominator between ethnic differences within Indonesia. During the discussion, the students revealed that there should be more representation of different religions in Indonesia and also stated that, should Protestant Christianity be shown on television, it does not matter if the pastor is Javanese or Jakartan (―As long as the religion is the same, [ethnicity] does not matter‖).

In summary, then, firstly, the students were critical of the Hidayah clip and rejected Islamic representation in favour of their own Protestant identity. Secondly, this resistance cannot be isolated only to religious identity, but showed how the students‘ Christian identity is not separate from their Papuan identity. This revealed the dominance of Jakarta over Papua in the students‘ social reality. But in their minds, their own ethnic culture, used here to resist Jakarta dominance, is superior in diversity and richness compared to Javanese (here, in the context of ethnic culture, the students interchange between Jakarta and Javanese culture). Lastly, for the Jayapura students,

177 their views of Christianity renders ethnic differences unimportant with Jakarta not seen as a dominant power over Papua within the religion.

Responses towards Munajah Cinta

The responses towards the Munajah Cinta clip are dominated by the issue of Islamic culture as a cultural commodity, both in the Banda Aceh and Jayapura discussions. Compared to the students‘ reactions to the Hidayah clip, the discussions on Munajah Cinta are limited by the students‘ disengagement from the clip. This resulted them in taking the detached observer‘s position, which emerges in critical readings (Liebes & Katz, 1990).

The Banda Aceh discussion was focused on the commercial value of Munajah Cinta to explain such representation of Islam, which suggests that the students tried to understand the reason behind apparent reference to Islamic symbols that lack spiritual meaning. Only one student in Banda Aceh elaborated further on polygamy in a private interview separate from the group, mentioning it as in line with the Islamic thought that she practices. The discussion in Jayapura, on the other hand, is more focused on the issue of polygamy and contrasted this particular practice related to Islam with their own Protestant views (see Table 7.4).

A Generic Sinetron, but with Jilbab

The Banda Aceh students resisted the Munajah Cinta clip in a way that is similar to the discussions in Jakarta, Denpasar, Makassar and Banjarmasin. The difference is that they moved beyond their own reservations with Munajah Cinta and further expressed their views on why these types of sinetron are so profitable in Indonesian television or ―television moralising‖. The Banda Aceh discussion of Munajah Cinta diverged into several issues.

The first is the issue of the sinetron having formulaic resemblance with generic sinetron that have dominated the sinetron industry since late 1990s. The students mentioned several characteristics such as being unrealistic (―The decisions taken [by the characters] are also unrealistic‖), exploiting sensationalism (―Lots of violence and discrimination, like the one [in the scene] on the women‘s rights NGO‖).

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A common response within the Banda Aceh students was their grouping of Munajah Cinta with generic sinetron, rather than sinetron religi that portray Islam (―The difference is that they wear jilbab, but the storyline is the same‖). In that, the students disregarded altogether the Islamic content in the sinetron and instead analysed why such sinetron have become so commercially successful. One of the more vocal students in Banda Aceh argued that the show is perhaps popular because it suited people of lower educational background (―The industry workers make sinetron according to their taste, but it‘s the majority of the less-educated people who like these sinetron‖). Like the discussions in Jakarta, by imagining the target audience of Munajah Cinta as ―less educated people‖ who might be entertained by its content, the student distanced himself from the content and the sinetron.

Although such criticism had been expressed before,17 another female student contradicted the statement. She argued that most of her relatives who are addicted to such shows are well-educated, but they watch it anyway (―Because they‘ve already begun watching, they can‘t stop because they‘re too engaged in the plot. They actually do realise that the sinetron is too convoluted and unrealistic‖). The last statement ―they actually do realise‖ negates the notion that the targeted audience is uncritical and unaware of the plot or are ―less educated‖ and passive. This opinion is strengthened by the next response, which argues that it is not about its less-educated targeted audience, but rather it is an addiction shaped by induced demand and a lack of choice (―Also because there are no other quality television shows‖).

Although the discussion in Banda Aceh is dominated by why Munajah Cinta is so successful, one student revealed in a personal interview how the symbols portrayed in the sinetron align with her own religious identity. She argued that its main plot, polygamy, was practiced by the Prophet (―It actually does have Islamic content, in the form of the Prophet‘s sunnah. We can see that through its portrayal of polygamy‖) and that Munajah Cinta has a setting of an Islamic boarding school (pondok pesantren). Therefore, she argues the show is indeed Islamic.

She contrasted herself with her classmates in a separate discussion because she herself is a loyal viewer of Munajah Cinta and other melodramatic sinetron religi. However,

17 I criticise the idea of sinetron as escapism put forth by Taufiqurrahman (2005) in Chapter Four. 180 her own previous statement that, unlike the opinion of most of her classmates during the discussion, Munajah Cinta does represent Islam is followed by her statement below:

During Lebaran, there are special themes on Lebaran. There should also be special themes on Christmas. In Buku Harian Nayla, for instance, nothing in the sinetron made me want to convert to her religion [Christianity]. Sinetron is entertainment. It‘s different from Christian spiritual reinvigoration (penyegaran rohani). That‘s also how other religious followers see Islamic-themed sinetron, especially during the fasting month where most [television] is full of Islamic themes. Before, the characters did not wear jilbab, now during the fasting month they do. It doesn‘t change someone‘s faith, seeing these things. If it‘s a show on the Pilgrimage of the Prophet (Isra Mi’raj), perhaps they would switch channels. But if it‘s Ayat-ayat Cinta, perhaps they‘re curious, what polygamy is like in Islam (Siti [pseudonym], personal communication, August 9, 2011).

The excerpt above actually strengthens the general view in the discussion (―The difference is that they wear jilbab‖). The student argued that the representation of Islam in the sinetron, such as the jilbab, does not make someone convert to another religion; particularly compared to shows on spiritual reinvigoration, where verses and religious texts are studied and related to the everyday context. The way Siti captured the difference between shows on spiritual restoration and sinetron religi is similar to the method of incorporating Islam in entertainment shows during the New Order.18 Siti argues that religion may be embedded in a sinetron religi without it becoming a tool for religious propagation. But at the same time she says that it is the cultural incorporation that makes it more acceptable to a non-Muslim viewer (she even placed herself as a non-Christian viewer as she watched a religious Christian sinetron).

Polygamy Goes Against Christianity

Critical readings were dominant during the discussion in Jayapura, particularly relating to polygamy. I would like firstly to compare the critical readings in Jayapura and Jakarta, Banjarmasin, and Makassar; then secondly contrast these with the readings in Banda Aceh. In the case of the latter, although the discussions there had also centred on polygamy, the students contrasted polygamy represented in Munajah Cinta against their own religious morality, television moralising, and the notion of gender equity.19 The students in Jakarta, Banjarmasin, and Makassar related the clip to larger social realities of religious leaders practising polygamy in Indonesia and public perception.

18 I elaborate on the method of infiltration in Chapter Two. 19 For more explanation on these three notions, see Chapter Six. 181

The students in Banda Aceh and Jayapura, however, did not make such links. While the Banda Aceh students rejected the idea that the sinetron was Islamic and regarded it as a cultural product that has, first and foremost, an economic value, the Jayapura students, as with the case of the Hidayah clip, responded to the sinetron by claiming their own Christian identity (―The storyline goes against Christianity‖ and ―What my religion teaches me, I mean Christianity, we aren‘t allowed to be in a polygamous relationship because of that‖). The reason the Jayapura students did not relate to the sinetron is not because of its religious commodification (as was the case of the Banda Aceh students), but because polygamy is not part of their Christian identity.

However, although their instant response towards the Munajah Cinta clip is to distance themselves from any Islamic representation on the basis of their own Christian identity, in another part of the discussion, the students acknowledged their own habit of watching sinetron religi, illustrated in the excerpt below:

Ciara: [Represent other religions] as we practice it. It‘s important to respect each other. Domingo: Yes, I‘d prefer that, to include other religions. Int.: Like how? Domingo: Like in sinetron. Once in a while, include Christianity. Not always people with jilbab. Int.: Can you recall titles of Islamic sinetron? Domingo: Cinta Fitri. Bari: Khadijah dan Khalifah. Della: Safa dan Marwah. Ciara: Kupinang Kau dengan Bismillah (I Will Propose to You with God‘s Name). Int.: How do you know all of these titles? Della: What else can we watch? Those are the only things broadcasted, so we watch them. Int.: Why not turn off the television? Della: Ah. It‘s not a big deal. We watch it, it‘s entertaining. Enda: Just turn on the volume. Listen to the noise.

There are two important elements to note in the excerpt above. The first, a student expressed the desire for more equal representation of other religions in Indonesian television. In other parts of the discussion and private interviews, such desires were also expressed often (―It‘s unfair, not showing other religions‖, ―Most of Papuans are Christians. When we watch commercial television and there are no Christians portrayed, it makes me feel ignored‖, ―Every morning, afternoon, evening,

182 always the adzan. Sometimes it makes me angry‖). At the same time, however, this desire does not prevent them from exposing themselves to sinetron religi, which relates to the second point. The students knew the titles of the sinetron religi, and even explained that they watch them for lack of better choices (―What else can we watch? Those are the only things broadcasted, so we watch them‖).

This statement can be related to the Banda Aceh students‘ reasoning on why such melodramatic sinetron religi are commercially successful – for lack of alternatives (―Also because there are no other quality television shows‖). These statements suggest that the sinetron industry and its products do not reflect audience taste as was argued by the sinetron producers, because the ratings do not properly reflect preference, since much of the audience may simply have the programmes on as background noise (―Just turn on the volume. Listen to the noise‖).20

Responses towards Para Pencari Tuhan

The students in Banda Aceh perceived the clip of Para Pencari Tuhan (PPT) as the best representation of their own views of Islam, and both the students in Banda Aceh and Jayapura feel that they best relate to the PPT clip in comparison to the two other clips (―More educative and closer to our lives [merakyat]‖ and ―[The clip] is easy to digest for viewers our age, especially the fact that it‘s funny, so it‘s easy to absorb the message‖).

The respondents in Banda Aceh also mentioned that the main character in the scene cited the Hadith while commenting on the multiple congregational prayers to explain why they relate the clip to their own Islamic practices (―Here‘s an example of faith without intellectualising (beriman tanpa berilmu)‖). For the Banda Aceh students, the clip was seen in the context of their own Islamic rituals. They further argued that the scene was correct in terms of Islamic rituals (multiple congregational prayers are prohibited). While for the Jayapura students, the clip was seen in the context of moral messages through religious representation (―[Learning] through stories from other religions‖). In Banda Aceh and Jayapura, the common response among students towards the clip is focused on how the portrayal of separate prayers relate to the fragmented political conditions in Indonesia now. The students showed an awareness of the country‘s political discourse.

20 I elaborate why commercial strategies persist with such interpretation of the audience taste data in the concluding Chapter Nine. 183

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The second common response is that students related the text to their own opinions, albeit different in the two locations. In Banda Aceh, the clip triggered a discussion on the difference between fragmentation, diversity and national unity. In Jayapura, the clip triggered a discussion about how the popular packaging of an otherwise Islamic show can promote religious tolerance. Both responses show that while having some emotional engagement to the PPT clip, the students also took the detached observer‘s position and assessed the clip in comparison to their perception of the country‘s politics.21

Unified Diversity

The discussion in Banda Aceh centres on the analogy between the multiple congregational prayers with the country‘s political fragmentation in which several important views surfaced. The first view relates to the implicit message about Indonesia‘s fragmentation through the current multiparty system. There was blame on a lack of solid leadership, referring to the scene where there are multiple imams leading multiple prayers (―Like the scene, the congregation is comprised of only three people each, but there are three imams‖). This view suggests a desire for unification between political differences, seeking unity. The second view, acknowledges plurality, without specifying the type, as another form of fragmentation.

A desire for unification is present, but without erasing the particularity of the members of the nation (―We need diversity, but the people need to be unified‖). Diversity can be managed as long as the people share the same goal of striving for economic and social welfare (―We need diversity, but the people need to be unified‖ and ―In the context the parliament‘s work, people‘s welfare‖). The Banda Aceh students focused on a shared identity between ―Indonesian people‖ through representatives (i.e. parliament), with a general interest of public welfare. Their choice of the terms was ―welfare‖ instead of stability, security, or order (terms that were exploited during the New Order administration to validate state authority). This suggests that the Banda Aceh respondents place the authority for shaping a public interest with the Indonesian people rather than the state.

21 This blurs the division between Liebes and Katz‘s (1990) critical and referential reading, which I elaborate further in Chapter Nine. 185

The PPT clip triggered a discussion on Indonesian Muslim comradeship and unification within a larger secular, political power. The students‘ own Muslim identity played a role in them understanding the meaning of the role of the imam within the clip, but related it to lack of leadership in the context of Indonesian secular politics. An important note is that the students did not generalise their own Muslim identity to apply to secular politics, despite them living in a Sharia society.

Their national consciousness includes notions of plurality. In the discussions about what plurality means to them, the students revealed their own perception of a multi-religious (―When I watched Ketika Cinta Bertasbih at the cinema, most of the people who came to see it were not Muslims. They can enjoy it for its entertainment value, which depends on the storyline‖) and multicultural society (―I often question why television shows portray Javanese culture. Why not cultures in Aceh and areas outside of Java‖). The latter was followed with the awareness not only that Indonesia is a multi-ethnic society, but that there is also a centralisation of power between these ethnicities in the context of Indonesia‘s television system:

I often question why television shows portray Javanese culture. Why not cultures in Aceh and areas outside of Java. The answer is because the centre of it is in Java. But why doesn‘t the government think about building television stations in local areas to introduce culture to the younger generation? Isn‘t that a better solution than adopting shows on a national level? Although better in quality, it‘s national culture, not Acehnese culture. So television should portray Acehnese culture to young people, so they are used to cultures that exist in Indonesia (Indra [pseudonym], personal communication, August 8, 2011).

The excerpt above revealed awareness of the cultural implications of the centralised infrastructure of Indonesia‘s television system. The students used the ideas of fragmentation portrayed in the PPT clip beyond the main Islamic content. Firstly, the students are aware of religious and ethnic differences within Indonesia and see these two as the main fragmentation in the country. Secondly, the students revealed an awareness of imbalanced economic infrastructure that further complicate this religious and ethnic fragmentation.

The themes that dominated the discussions in Banda Aceh suggest that the students in Banda Aceh think within the scope of the national discourse and are highly critical of the dominance of the Javanese (not Jakarta) over other ethno-cultural groups in Indonesia. At the same time, however, despite recognising that Muslims are the

186 majority in Indonesia and how this implicates televised religion (―The majority of Indonesians are Muslims, so it is impossible to indulge Christmas‖), they don‘t see these representations as threats to other religious groups or themselves (―Most of the people watching Ketika Cinta Bertasbih in the cinema were non-Muslims. I also watch Christmas shows, if it‘s only a film I watch it. If it‘s a spiritual show, I don‘t‖).

Power Imbalance

The discussion in Jayapura also revealed a similar awareness that PPT tries to criticise the country‘s political condition (―There are many political parties but no power; it‘s criticism towards politics actually‖). The students ignored the Islamic packaging of PPT and related the social criticism to the condition Papua (―That it‘s better to have a few political parties, but with power directly to local government‖). In another part of the discussion, this concern was elaborated in more detail. They expressed how imbalanced religious representation on television reflects a larger symptom of economic disparity between Papua and the central government (―This imbalanced representation is why we feel ignored‖).

Prita: It is just a way so that more people watch their show. Int.: What do you think of this? Ciara: The television [stations] lacks awareness to include other areas. They don‘t realise what other areas need, what their strengths are, what they need to advance (maju). Each area can be advanced. They serve up the usual same, old stuff (itu, itu, itu saja). Bari: Sulawesi is beginning to progress (maju), while Papua faces increasing constraints (semakin kendala). And when Papua threatens to separate, [they] give attention. Ciara: Autonomy. Bari: There are many changes since.22 Prita: Yes, as indigenous Papuans (putra daerah), we receive more attention. It didn‘t used to be this way, we were neglected. Domingo: But Special Autonomy only trickles (berkembang) to central parts of Papua like Jayapura and Sorong. There is some progress here, but not in general. Int.: What do you mean by not in general? Bari: The money is not received by all. Stops at several hands. Int.: Several hands? Bari: Yes, rumour says it‘s not by Papuans, but people from outside. The [local] government wants to develop, but when they wanted to begin a project the money was lost.

22 Bari was referring to the Special Autonomy Law based on the context of the discussion and where it led after. 187

The discussion above illustrates several important points. Firstly, the students are aware of the television industry‘s purpose to gain as much audience as possible and that this relates to the dominance of Islamic representation. Secondly, the discussion revealed that this imbalanced representation relates to slow development in Papua, because other areas fail to be aware of the strengths Papua has. Thirdly, the discussion continued with how this slow development has been affected by the special autonomy law, in that although some acknowledgement is given to indigenous Papuans, the law has not resulted in significant economic gains because of the corruption, according to rumours, of non-Papuans in government (―Rumour says it‘s not by Papuans, but people from outside‖).23

The second main response is in relation to religious differences. Although the PPT clip was of Islamic content, and the Jayapura students recognised the dominance of Islamic representation in Indonesian television and explicitly claimed they felt ignored as Christians (―Well, because there are so many on Islam compared to Christianity, or compared to other religions‖), the students did not express negative views towards the Muslim audience or Indonesians in general the way they did towards ―non-local government‖ or ―several hands‖. In fact, the Jayapura students took a similar position to the Denpasar students in terms of finding a common denominator as believers (―If all religions united, we‘d be strong. Every religion is the same‖, ―It teaches us to have good character. Religious tolerance, that‘s what I absorbed‖, and ―[Learning] through stories from other religions‖).

This second response on Islam as a religion in Indonesia revealed that the feeling of being ignored is more about vertical conflict (Sukma, 2003, p. 66) or a separatist challenge to the existing state structure; not inter-religious conflict (horizontal conflict). In fact, the discussion revealed that religion provides a normaliser for ethnic differences (―It is alright [for televised pastors to be of other ethnicities] as long as they‘re Christian‖). While the students‘ responses towards Hidayah and Munajah Cinta revealed feelings of alienation from Jakarta and Javanese cultural dominance in television, the PPT clip opened up a discourse on tolerance and plurality. The discussion in both Jayapura and Banda Aceh extended beyond PPT into the notion of television as

23 Since 2005, the media have regularly reported several cases of corruption in West Papua, among others Manokwari (―Kasus Korupsi DBH‖, 2012), Sorong, and Raja Ampat (―KPK Diminta Jelaskan‖, 2010). 188 a space to represent multiculturalism and to question the economic infrastructure of the country‘s television system.

Conclusion

Findings in this chapter reveal that, while the students that I interviewed in the four Nielsen cities performed a ―politics of piety‖ (Mahmood, 2007), students in Banda Aceh and Jayapura express awareness of religious and cultural marginalisation. Two aspects stand out in this chapter in relation to how the Band Aceh and Jayapura students respond to the sinetron religi clips.

Firstly, religious identity held a crucial role in their viewing of the clips. The Acehnese students revealed their modern Islamic practices that focus on progress and modernity. The Jayapura students claimed their Christian identity in rejecting the sinetron religi clips. Both responses are rationalised by the students as related to economic factors. The television industry‘s targeted Muslim audience had permitted such religious dominance, which resulted in misrepresentation of Islam for Acehnese students and marginalisation of Christian representation for Jayapura students.

Secondly, the cultural context of both areas, particularly in relation to past (Aceh) and present (Papua) separatist movements, framed the way the students responded to the selected sinetron religi. The students in both areas showed a sense of awareness in core- periphery power relations (Wallerstein, 2011). This notion did not emerge in the discussions held in the Nielsen cities (although some students did show some awareness, particularly the Denpasar students). This awareness relates to the students‘ criticism towards ―Jakarta‖ and ―Javanese‖ dominance in television infrastructure and content (Armando, 2011).

In Banda Aceh, this criticism manifested in the desire to compete with ―Javanese‖ standards or to become equal. In Jayapura, it surfaced in the desire to be acknowledged for their unique cultural specificity or ―politics of representation‖ (Barker, 2003). Findings from both chapters six and seven reveal that the dominance of Islamic representation in television‘s most profitable television format has triggered profound discussions on nationhood. This religious dominance made possible by commercial

189 logic has challenged the notion of the students‘ Indonesian national identity, which I explain in the next chapter.

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CHAPTER EIGHT

THE POLITICS OF DIFFERENCE

The previous two chapters have revealed how the students in Nielsen and non-Nielsen cities respond to the television industry‟s dominant cultural product, namely sinetron religi. A common response between students in all cities is that the proliferation of Islamic representation through the most profitable television show format, the sinetron, has triggered students to resist its dominance by reclaiming and rearticulating their national consciousness. In this common rearticulation, students mainly repositioned religion as sub-national and mentioned ethnicity as another “sub-national identity” aside from religion (Anderson, 1999). This repositioning challenges the commercial and cultural dominance of Islamic-themed sinetron.

There is a significant difference between the students in Nielsen and non-Nielsen cities. The former subordinated Islamic representation to multi-ethnic and multi-religious notions of national identity, which can be explained by the “politics of piety” (Mahmood, 2007). The latter particularised this subordination as cultural marginalisation and identified it as a result of the “core-periphery” relationship between Jakarta and their own area (Wallerstein, 2011). On the one hand, they highlighted “Jakarta” and “Javanese” dominance in Indonesia‟s television infrastructure and content (Armando, 2011). On the other, they highlighted their own area‟s lack of presence on television. This awareness manifested in ideas of television as a “national stage” that should represent the ethnic and religious differences in Indonesia. I therefore structure this chapter along these two main divisions.

There are two important issues that are problematic in the students‟ notion of nationalism. Firstly, the manner in which they position religion within the nation-state context and express the desire for their own local cultural identity to be included on a “national stage” indicates the “politics of difference” (Gupta & Ferguson, 1992; Ang, 2003). In response to the dominance of commercial Islamic culture on television, the students broke down and specified the sub-nations they imagine to comprise the nation. In that, “difference is absolutised” (Ang, 2003, p. 5).

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Secondly, in spite of this acknowledgement that difference is absolute, the exclusion of “old religion” (Schiller, 1996), “non-civilised ethnic groups” (Colchester, 1986; Picard, 1997), class, youth, and gender, even though the students indicate awareness of these groups, show that the nationalism they imagine is a legacy of New Order‟s national consciousness. This consciousness maintains national stability by managing social, ethnic, religious tension in favour of national integration (Anderson, 1999; Kitley, 2000; Sen and Hill, 2000).

The Politics of Piety

The students in Nielsen cities showed a negotiation between the role of Islamic texts in their everyday lives and identity contestations that are particular to each city, which I understand as “the politics of piety” (Mahmood, 2007). These contests emerged in their interpretation of Hidayah, for instance when the students positioned themselves as young people who are educated and thus do not relate to the show because “those who really understand religion would understand it rationally”. The expression showed that there is a subordination of “irrational” ways of understanding religion. Since the students see television as a tool for education, showing programmes like Hidayah is seen as backwards because it teaches irrational ways of thinking (“It shouldn‟t be shown [on television]”, “It could be that, after watching, they follow Islam in the way it is televised”).

The students had common responses in articulating what they consider to be the appropriate way to practice Islam: rationally and in modern ways. Dismissing the representation of Islam in Hidayah as abnormal (“The story is so weird that it makes us laugh. Not because it‟s funny, but I laugh at it as an insult”), they contrast the clip against their own religious ideology; which is modern, rational and organised. The “non-Muslims”, however, did not dismiss such representations. They used their own religious identity to understand the content by finding a common ground (i.e. reincarnation in Hinduism). Their Hindu and Christian identities are not used to filter Islamic content, but to become a common denominator between different religious practices.

The “non-Muslim” students in the Nielsen cities are aware that they are a religious minority in Indonesia. In the case of students in Jakarta, Banjarmasin, and Makassar,

192 they are minorities both nationally and in their direct social environment. This awareness helped them organise themselves in their daily conduct. For example Kiki, a Christian-Torajan student who decided to not come forth with the animistic practices of her relatives because she understood that the larger group both adopt and practice modern religion. Such awareness provides religious minorities with limited agency as it equips them with the necessary knowledge to anticipate and avoid a conflict. In Denpasar, as students are a minority nationally but the majority in their own cultural environment, they were aware of their being a religious minority (“Because even though a majority, there could be inter-religious cooperation”). At the same time, they are also aware that they are being culturally marginalised in national spaces – in this case, television – whereas non-Muslim students in other Neilsen cities did not raise the issue.

The Denpasar students raised the importance of television in managing potential intergroup conflicts (“To avoid conflict through information. If there is disregard towards other religion, there could be conflicts”). Findings reveal that it is their sense of being marginalised, they are aware of religious differences (“Because even though [Muslims are the] majority, there could be inter-religious cooperation” and “So we should understand our difference, between religions, how they practice their belief”). All non-Muslim students are aware of the “politics of piety” in sinetron religi and their own direct socio-cultural environment. The relationship between their knowledge of the television structure, televised representation, and the subordination of minority religions in all these spaces can be seen as “television practice” that mainstreams Islam into national culture (Couldry, 2004). On the one hand, non-Muslim students show some resistance towards the dominance of Islamic representation by partially revealing their own religious identity. On the other, they also think that television shapes the religious- national discourse that marginalises non-Islamic groups (including themselves).

A different kind of contestation occurred through their response to Munajah Cinta. Out of the three sinetron religi clips, the participants were most disassociated from Munajah Cinta. They expressed their distaste for melodramatic sinetron, citing it as “overindulgent, repetitive, and never-ending” (“To be honest, I‟m not really interested in these kinds of sinetron”). The Muslim students openly claimed that it does not represent Islam. The reason behind such disassociation is because the respondents are aware that the main motivation behind the use of Islamic symbols in the sinetron is for profit and they see this commercial packaging as reducing its religious message.

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The sinetron’s focus on polygamy was interpreted to commodify a broader public controversy (i.e. sensationalism), because according to the students it is generally a practice not accepted in Indonesia. In their interpretation of the clip, the students related the representation of polygamy in Munajah Cinta with Aa Gym‟s controversial polygamous marriage. The case strengthened their views on the public‟s negative perception of polygamy, which they explained through the decline of Aa Gym‟s commercial and public popularity. The important issue raised here is that there are “real” political and economic consequences to practicing Islam conservatively in Indonesia.

All students felt that the Para Pencari Tuhan (PPT) clip was the most enjoyable and reflective of Indonesian society, despite its Islamic content. The clip triggered discussions on the role of television in constructing a national identity inclusive of Islam and other religions, ethnic groups, traditional culture, and territory.

Int.: What indicates Indonesia‟s identity? Gede: Culture. Int.: What kind of culture? All: So many! Gede: Ethnicity. Sari: Religion. Mei: Dance. Sari: Songs. Int.: What else? Gede: Way of life. Int.: What do you mean by way of life? Gede: We have our own distinct way of life, every territory (daerah) has its own.

Firstly, in the discussions, PPT was not treated as an Islamic text but a text that contains a cultural-religious representation. The discussions in Nielsen cities placed PPT within the discourse of the nation and in turn subordinated the cultural dominance of Islam in Indonesian television by arguing for pluralistic notions. The discussions repositioned Islam as one of the religions in Indonesia and religion as one of the “sub-nations” that comprise the students‟ idea of national identity (Anderson, 1999). On the one hand, the issue of political fragmentation mentioned in the PPT clip undermined the producers‟ Islamic content and conversely elicited the students to challenge the dominance of both Islamic and Jakarta content. I draw upon Shamsul‟s (1996) “nations-of-intent” to reflect

194 how these sub-national identities are emphasised because of central-peripheral disparities. Shamsul‟s focus was on Malaysian national identity that privileged Muslim Malays over Chinese and Indians, which resulted in competition with the dominant definition of the nation or unrequited “nations-of-intent”. In this case, students who feel marginalised by Jakarta culture on television have expressed „nation of intent‟ based on ethnic and religious equality.

On the other hand, although the students do not resist this dominance or subordination in their public lives. Although they are active in student bodies and extra-curricular activities that even include journalism, they do not exercise their awareness in their school magazine, for instance. For the students in Nielsen cities, this resistance is normative.

Secondly, the chosen signifiers (i.e. culture, religion, ethnicity, traditional dance and song, territory) exemplify that the nations-of-intent identified as part of Indonesian identity are mainly the ones employed as part of the invention of New Order national culture (Kitley, 2000). The cultural specificity of each territory mentioned (that they envisage as traditional songs and dance) is symbolic to an “imagined community” (Anderson, 1983). It is imagined, while desiring it to be represented on a national stage, yet they do not practice these traditional attributes in their daily lives. Their notion of national identity that surfaces in response to the dominance of Islamic-themed shows is “tokenistic”. Similar “tokenisms” emerge in the Banda Aceh and Jayapura discussions, which I explain in the next section.

Representing Difference

The students in Banda Aceh and Jayapura explored ideas on dominant culture in Indonesia and how it contradicts the country‟s slogan Bhinneka Tunggal Ika. There are several important highlights of the discussion in these two non-Nielsen cities. Firstly, the students regarded the proliferation of Islamic content as justifiable because of Indonesia‟s commercial television system (“Well, most of the viewers are Muslim” and “Non-Muslims are used to it and accept it”). The Banda Aceh students refer to this as tolerance (pemakluman), suggesting that non-Muslims are putting up with the dominant representation of Islam on television because a commercial television system relies on

195 the majority Muslim market. The discussion in Jayapura, on the other hand, was split between tolerance and resistance.

Bari: There are too much [Islamic content]. Prita: Yes. Weddings are always done the Muslim way, never the Christian way. Int.: Why do you think that is? Bari: Well, the majority of the population are Muslims. Int.: How do you feel about that? Ciara: Well, I respect difference, to each their own belief. As long as we respect each other. Domingo: I wish they would also include other religions. Int.: What do you mean? Domingo: Once in a while, show Christians.

Students in Banda Aceh also shared the concern revealed by Domingo on equal representation. However, unlike in Jayapura, the issue there was not lack of religious representation, but ethnic culture. This relates to the second note in which the students question the dominance of Jakarta culture in Indonesian national television and ask why the Indonesian government does not make serious efforts to develop local television stations to reinforce local culture and economy.1 The Acehnese students discussed the role of national television in promoting local culture.

Arif: I am not really proud of local TV. In TV Aceh, it presents Acehnese culture, it‟s a must. But if Acehnese culture were to be shown on national television, now that‟s cool. Int.: Why? Arif: Because it has national scope. Ira: It makes us proud. Fani: Shows that are aired by national television have a standard of quality, creativity, it makes people want to watch. Like stage setting, for instance, it‟s so different the quality of local TV and national TV. So that‟s on visual attractiveness. So when we watch local TV, traditional dance, it‟s with very poor quality. Not attractive to viewers. But if the traditional dance were to be brought on a national level, with good lighting and setting, there‟s an added value (nilai plus), even though the content is the same, Acehnese traditional dance. Int.: Why exactly does that make you proud?

1 Although TVRI has great potential to reach massive audience numbers with 400 transmitters and 23 regional stations (Ida, 2006, p. 74), failure in designing programmes for an audience whose tastes have been shaped by private television programmes has pushed the public broadcasting station further behind the competition. It is also important to note that local television stations had been on the rise since mid- 2000s, but more recent findings reveal that these local stations have formed local empires (Ida, 2006, p. 77), and/or become extensions to “Jakarta” television (Nugroho et al., 2012, p. 14). 196

Ira: Yes, proud. Because we live in Aceh, were raised in Aceh, if someone else knows of our culture, “Oh, so this is what Acehnese culture is like”. Well, we feel proud. Fani: If it‟s aired on local TV, everyone knows about it already. Dani: If someone outside knows about Acehnese, I feel, I have a desire to introduce Aceh.

The Banda Aceh respondents introduced the notion of national television as a national stage, where various ethnic cultures that comprise the nation become each other‟s equivalent. A similar note on equal representation or the “politics of difference” (through an idea of a national stage, an awareness of a national audience), was also apparent in the Jayapura discussion:

Prita: It feel it‟s unfair, for viewers from other religions, I think. Domingo: Yes, it [other religions] are not broadcasted… Look at us now. Papua is a good example. People here feel under-appreciated. Yes, they‟ve appreciated with aid, but it‟s not enough. There needs to be more. Appreciation. Bari: Bhinneka Tunggal Ika does not exist now. It stops at Sulawesi. After that, nothing. We are ignored. Domingo: The majority of Papuans are Christians. When we watch commercial television and there‟s no representation of Christianity, it doesn‟t feel good. Int.: Just religion? Domingo: The main things are religion and culture. Int.: How do you think it should be, then? Enda: Don‟t broadcast it, like I said before. Prita: Or broadcast it. If Jakarta can, why can‟t other areas as well? Int.: Why does it need to be broadcasted nationally? Ciara: It‟s important to show (memancarkan) the ethnic characteristics of each culture. So they… Well, they understand the whole of Indonesia. They only know Jakarta, Jakarta, and Jakarta again, not other areas. Prita: Jakarta, Bali, Yogyakarta. Ciara: To realise the potential of other areas, I think.

An awareness of “central-periphery” power relations in both Banda Aceh and Jayapura relates to them voicing their desire for an equality performed on national television. Television here is expected to be a national stage that expresses the desire for ethnic and religious equality. This sense of equality is a means for students to manage their own dissatisfaction related to the power imbalance between central and local infrastructure through televised performances.

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The stage, in this case television, is seen as a space where the technical programming governs the quality of cultural performances. Students in Banda Aceh and Jayapura criticise the quality of their own local television stations (“Papua TV stagnates [itu-itu aja]. It doesn‟t get better. Only Mop,2 singing, no progress”, “I watch it for pride, not quality”). They see the technical programming qualities of “Jakarta” television as desirable and recognise that local television cannot compete with them. Not only does local television not suffice to fulfil their desire to express nation-of-intent based on ethnic and religious equality, students reveal that there is also a desire to express themselves to an imagined national audience (“But if Acehnese culture were to be shown on national television, now that‟s cool”, “If someone outside knows of Acehnese, I feel, I have a desire to introduce Aceh”, “So they understand the whole of Indonesia”).

The imagination of a national audience for the students in Banda Aceh and Jayapura is crucial. For them, this expression is meaningful because of the promised audience of another culture or area that is part of the nation. Television as a national stage is a notion that allows ethnic and religious equality through cultural performances that imagine both egalitarianism between its members and an audience of “the other culture”. The “sub-national identities” of the nation, for Acehnese, are an amalgamation of religion and ethnic3 culture (“In Aceh, culture and religion are one. Because Acehnese traditional culture is in line with Islam. There is no culture in Aceh that conflicts with Islam. For instance in traditional dance, most of the singing in the dance is related to Islam. There are sentences mentioning praise to Allah, not God, but Allah, Islam‟s God. So religion and traditional culture in Aceh is one package”).

In Jayapura, the students firstly separated religion (Protestantism) from ethnic culture. Their religious identity functioned as a filter to understand Islamic content in the sinetron religi clips that were shown. The students‟ religious identity was useful in their religious tolerance and to contest the dominance of Islamic-themes in Indonesian television, which they related to the commercial logic of the industry (i.e. the majority of the market are Muslims). When the discussion moved towards other types of

2 Mop or Mop Papua refers to humorous Papuan anecdotes. It has been reproduced into short sketches in the television show Epen Kah… Cupen Toh… broadcasted by TV Merauke. 3 I acknowledge the diversity of ethnic and cultural groups within Acehnese culture (i.e. Gayo, Alas, Tamiang, Aneuk Jamee, Kluet, and Simeulue), but its unification is easily stereotyped and symbolized with the popularity of the Saman dance, which embodies the amalgamation of Islam and Acehnese cultural identity. 198 dominances, the Jayapura students relied more on their own ethnic identity. Chauvel (2007) argued that Papuan identity is a clear division between “‟we‟ Papuans and „you‟ Indonesians”. But findings in this thesis reveal that the students‟ division is between “‟we‟ Protestants, and „you‟ Muslims” in which ethnic differences are subordinated to religious difference.

Secondly, the students also related “central-periphery” issues within their own area. The Jayapura discussion revealed that funds that had come with the special autonomy law stop at Jayapura and Sorong. This gave them the ability to reconcile between Papuan and Indonesian identities.4 Although they recognised and contested economic and cultural dominance of Jakarta and Javanese in television, they did not take the issue of power imbalance further than rhetoric. Instead, as the Banda Aceh students, they reclaimed their Indonesian-ness through imagining a national stage that allows Papuan ethnic groups to be represented (“Or broadcast it [nationally]. If Jakarta can, why can‟t other areas as well?”).

This representation is not only political, but related to a desire for a working infrastructure as well (“To realise the potentials of other areas, I think”). This statement, when related to their awareness that the majority of the audience is Muslim and how it provides a greater market for the industry, reveals that the Jayapura students‟ sense of Papuan identity that is reconciled with an Indonesian-ness is, to some extent, related to an idea of economic development.

[Represent] to everyone, to the whole world. On stages. That‟s why one can‟t really question why the government only portrays Jakarta culture in its films. That‟s like asking why the University of Indonesia [UI] is only in Jakarta. Why not in every area? So that education quality is even (merata). It becomes an indicator of motivation to everyone, how Acehnese study in UI, and return to develop (membangun) Aceh. That‟s the point. Acehnese cultural pride on national television, it is about how the Acehnese are capable of displaying Acehnese culture in its broadest sense (Arief [pseudonym], group interview, August 8, 2011).

A similar notion of economics was apparent during the Banda Aceh discussion. In the above excerpt, a student elaborated on his own awareness of a national infrastructure and the disparities between regions. He firstly gave an example of the

4 Widjojo (2008) argues tribal difference along narrow ethno-centric lines that have become more acute after the decision to split Papua into several provinces, which resulted in divisions between coastal and mountain people as well as between groups within smaller traditional social units. 199 country‟s culture industry (“That‟s why one can‟t really question why the government only portrays Jakarta culture in films”5) and then secondly he gave an example from national higher education (That‟s like asking why University of Indonesia is only in Jakarta? Why not in every area?”). The student related it to an “indicator of motivation for everyone” and to “return to develop Aceh”.

When further explored during a personal interview, the student revealed that he is aware that to develop Aceh, each young person needs to receive quality education in “good universities in Java”. In his mind, performing Acehnese identity involves developing an Acehnese modern infrastructure equal to that of “Jakarta‟s”. “Displaying Acehnese culture in its broadest sense” is, to him, related to social institutions, the economy, and politics of identity in representing a sub-identity that is firstly equal to others on a national stage. Secondly, this equality should follow Jakarta‟s standard.

The national stage then goes beyond the representation itself, but what the representations promise in terms of economic mobility. The notion of commerce is crucial in that the students see it as the guiding force that determines changes within the television industry. The excerpt is important because it reveals firstly that students recognise that there is a structural issue that underlies not only the television infrastructure, but other modern institutions as well. This structural issue is centred in Jakarta, and “Jakarta television” mirrors the systemic issue that applies in other sectors as well (“That‟s like asking why University of Indonesia is only in Jakarta. Why not in every area? So that education quality is even [merata]”). Television as a national stage, thus, is not about the “politics of representation” (Barker, 2003). It is also related to the required economic restructuring which permits the representation, and this begins from local desires to compete with Jakarta.

Conclusion

Students in Jakarta, Denpasar, Banjarmasin, and Makassar subordinated one authority to another, or the “politics of piety” (Mahmood, 2007). While this is also reflected by students in Banda Aceh and Jayapura, these groups included economic factors to this subordination. The latter involves the notion of the “politics of difference” (Gupta &

5 Note that he used the term “government” instead of industry actors. 200

Ferguson, 1992) that is expressed on free-to-air, “national” television. This chapter reveals that firstly, the proliferation of Islamic-themed sinetron that the students understood as determined by commercial logic, triggered them to revisit their notion of national identity. This notion normalised the tension between religion and the capitalist logic that permitted their dominance on television by repositioning, or re-subordinating, Islam as one of the many religious groups acknowledged by the state. As it is expressed by non-Muslims and most pronounced in cities whose students are most critical of Jakarta dominance, this reveals that this is related to the “nation-of-intent” (Shamsul, 1996) based on religious and ethnic equality.

Secondly, for the students, television is expected to be a national stage. This notion includes the imagination of a “national” audience that includes those of other areas and culture. Local television, although able to represent local identities and customs, is not desirable to the students for two reasons. Firstly, their tastes have been shaped by the technical rules that guide “Jakarta” television programming. Thus, local television programmes are not attractive enough for them to view for reasons other than some local pride. Secondly, local televisions only reach a local audience. The idea that free- to-air television can reach most of the national audience answers the students‟ desire to be represented to “others”.

Thirdly, this desire is not merely the “politics of representation” (Barker, 2003). It is closely related to the underlying central-peripheral imbalance that the students see as the cause of cultural marginalisation. The students in Banda Aceh and Jayapura, in particular, showed awareness of structural issues in the “national” television industry and how this mirrors structural problems in other sectors as well. The desire to be represented equally to “Jakarta” and/or “Java” is a desire to “compete with” them and realise the potential of their own local resources. In that, they desire equality through performance on a national stage that is expected to balance as well the economic disparities between regions. This, to the students, is possible through the promotion of local culture and the industry logic of television stations that is less guided by the state than it is by commercial forces.

Lastly, although the students had tamed the tension between Islamic cultural dominance and the commercial interest that helps sustain it by “re-subordinating” it as a “sub-

201 nation” (Anderson, 1999), they do not go beyond religion and ethnicity. Other sub- national identities cited included traditional songs and dances, which indicate that this notion of nationalism is not culturally rooted but “tokenism” in accepting difference. I explore this further in the concluding chapter that revisits and recontextualises Anderson‟s (1983) “imagined communities” in an age of commercial Islam.

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Part Four: Conclusion

We should not start with communications and its supposed effects on national identity and culture, but rather begin by posing the question of national identity itself, to ask how it might be analysed and what importance communications practices might have in its constitution (Schlesinger, 1987, p. 234).

It’s important to show (memancarkan) the ethnic characteristics of each culture. So they… Well, they understand the whole of Indonesia. They only know Jakarta, Jakarta, and Jakarta again, not other areas (Jayapura student, 2011).

CHAPTER NINE

CONCLUSIONS: BEING INDONESIAN IN AN AGE OF COMMERCIAL ISLAM

This study set out to examine the tension between commercial interest and Islamic ideologies operating through the commodification of Islamic symbols. This has been conducted with a focus on television practice, which has significance in the constructions of nationhood in Indonesia today. The main premise of this thesis is that the commercial logic of the television industry defines media-economic practices in producing text. Various identities interact during this practice – such as class, youth, gender, religion, and nationalism. Yet Islamic identity, as it has the highest ―exchange value‖ in terms of market share, renders it dominant among all identity codes. However, from within the television industry structure, the commercialisation of Islamic culture is challenged by dakwah agents who seek to return to Islamic scholarship. They adopt commercial modes of production but this is a means for dakwah (propagation). The structuration of Islamic commodification through television is therefore the first main finding of the thesis.

There are two important aspects to note in this matter. Firstly, this contestation between a ―cultural industry‖ and Islamic ideologies occurred because of commercialisation. While the television industry sees the relationship between audience and advertisers, the dakwah agents see a Muslim congregation and use television drama as a religious text. Secondly, this contestation results in the continuation of ―mainstreaming‖ Islam through a national medium. Television producers and dakwah agents place great reliance on Islamic symbols and their exchange value. As a result, in Indonesia today television constructs Islam as both popular and national culture by virtue of the commercial imperative to cultivate as wide an audience as possible.

I call this the ―mainstreaming‖ of Islam because although the number of programmes has significantly increased, the content has stayed predominantly within the safe zone of generic sinetron due to the industry’s ―deep risk aversion‖ (Barkin, 2004). This ―deep risk aversion‖ has created new strategies to cut the cost of producing Islamic television programmes, resulting in standardised production processes and homogenous content. The proliferation of Islamic programmes coincides with the conservative turn after

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Suharto (Liddle, 1996; van Bruinessen, 2011). Based on findings, I see this as commercial interest feeding into the growing trend of Islamic propagation in other institutions (e.g. pesantren, Islamic organisations on campus, etc; Hefner & Zaman, 2010) just as it has also surfaced through Islamic commercialisation in various industries (e.g. banking, fashion line, food, etc; Fealy, 2008).

In Chapter Three, I revealed that the pre-existing media economy of the sinetron industry provided the nuts and bolts for the mainstreaming of Islam into popular, national culture. Media economy practices that sustained the generic sinetron formats were also at play in this context. The sinetron production practice involves business cooperation between television stations and production houses that is guided by cost efficiency and deep risk aversion. This practice also attempts to reach out to a specific Muslim, class-based market. Muslim class-taste guided the replication of three sinetron religi clusters: supernatural (lower socio-economic class), melodramatic (middle socio- economic class), and alternative (upper socio-economic class) sinetron religi. Unlike the first two clusters, the alternative sinetron religi are created by its producers as part of dakwah. This suggests that, within the commodification of communication (Mosco, 2009), there is a ―degree of freedom‖ (Verstraeten, 1996). As this ―degree of freedom‖ is religiously motivated, the agents use sinetron religi for Islamic propagation.

As I have shown in Chapter Four and Five, the tension between commercial interest and Islamic ideology manifest in several ways. Firstly, all production houses studied sought religious validity through ustad endorsement. For the supernatural and melodramatic sinetron religi producers, the ustad served as the religious legitimacy to commerce their products. For the alternative sinetron religi producers, the ustad served as means to verify the sinetron’s adherence to the Quran and Hadith.

Secondly, organisations not directly linked to the television system have aligned with these different sinetron religi clusters and their different, class-based Muslim audiences. Hard line Muslim organisation Hizbut Tahrir, whose members represent the expectations of newly urbanised, lower middle class, educated Muslims (Hadiz & Teik, 2011), praised supernatural sinetron religi for its pure portrayal of Islamic teachings. Modernist Muslim organisation Muhammadiyah, which appeals to moderate, middle class urban Muslims, praised melodramatic sinetron religi for its peaceful portrayal of Islam in contrast to growing negative sentiments that associate Islam with terrorism

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(van Heeren, 2008; ―Layar Ayat”, 2008). And the alternative sinetron religi were praised by the President for their critical portrayal of everyday Islamic practices and received an award from an international Japanese festival, aligning themselves with critical Muslim educational elites (Subijanto, 2011). The industry’s representation of Islamic culture clearly appeals to the organisations’ imaginings of their followers. These findings suggest that the representation of Islam in each cluster is connected to the Muslim class structure that is not limited to the television industry.

The sinetron religi industry developed with the rise of Islamic commodification in various other sectors (Fealy, 2008), because of an interplay between commercialisation and the rise Islamic culture after Suharto. Because of their commercial value in a medium that reaches a national audience, sinetron religi cannot be placed strictly within the Islamic discourse. The television industry’s risk aversion produces sinetron religi so that it appeals to the larger, non-Muslim audience. Therefore, clusters also included other secular identity constructs—such as class, gender, youth, ethnic, and national— which accorded various individual weightings (subordination), depending on the targeted audience class (―politics of piety‖; Mahmood, 2007).

Viewer interpretations that are studied through discussions in Nielsen cities reveal that the dominance of Islamic culture is not isolated to televisual representation. Non- Muslims in Nielsen cities (particularly cities where Muslims are the majority) show awareness of such dominance both in television and in their daily lives. This study has shown, though, that the awareness of its dominance equipped them with the skills to anticipate and avoid conflicts. In contrast, non-Muslims who are the majority religious group in their own social environment, such as in Denpasar and Jayapura, express awareness more openly, thus resisting such representations, and demanded that television play a role in managing potential intergroup conflicts.

The respondents in non-Nielsen cities, regardless of whether they are Muslim or non- Muslim audiences, were aware of being culturally marginalised and revealed early on their demand for television to play a role in representing the ―wholeness‖ of Indonesia. It is the separatist and economic disparity, or core-periphery power relations (Wallerstein, 2011), experienced by students in Jayapura and Banda Aceh that provide a background for this awareness and resistance towards Islam’s (Jayapura) and Jakarta’s (Jayapura and Banda Aceh) cultural dominance in television. Crucially, research for this

205 study has highlighted two key points. Firstly, the dominance of Islamic representation in sinetron showed that television is significant for the producers and viewers in their national construct. Secondly, the dominance of Islam in television triggered the repositioning of Islam as one of Indonesia’s ―sub-national identities‖ (Anderson, 1999).

Television as a National Stage

The significance of television in the national construct has been argued before, notably by Abu-Lughod (2005), who argued that television is a symbolic space to construct and confirm national identities, and Morley (2004), who argued the importance of television to ―link the peripheral to the central‖ (p. 312). But this thesis reveals that such romantic views of television’s role in inventing national culture, or ―identity binding‖ (Buonanno, 2008, p. 24), are less about identity construction than they are about young audiences reclaiming their own sense of belonging and loyalty to their localities and territories to resist cultural dominance (i.e. mainstream Islam).

This local identity is crucial and omnipresent in discussions more because of the dominance of Islamic culture over national culture in Indonesia’s television today. This resistance is exercised mainly in the minds of the young audience. In their daily lives, they practice modernist notions of nationalism (Conversi, 2012), in which education, employment, income, modern religious practice, modern ethnic identity are common sense. This resistance goes unread by the sinetron industry’s audience rating because the survey statistics do not reflect the viewer’s engagement or, in this thesis, disengagement.

The economic practices of the industry are an important factor that influences television’s symbolic, cultural space. In the case of sinetron religi production, the media economy of the sinetron industry has an established industry practice that makes way for the commodification of Islam for its targeted large, Muslim market. One of the findings in this thesis reveals that the entirely numerical and structural way that the audiences are imagined by the industry does not reflect viewer engagement. I call this the myth of Indonesian sinetron.

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The Myth of the Sinetron

This thesis reveals that although the audience expose themselves to the sinetron, it is not for the purpose of engaging with them. Firstly, they watch the sinetron as ―white noise‖ or turning on the television but not following its content similar to multitasking. This finding negates the ―free market‖ argument often used by the sinetron industry which argues that ratings reflect sinetron audience size and composition. Television producers also argue that the majority of the melodramatic sinetron cater to the ―less-educated‖ audience with a desire for escapism.1 This view argued that representations of wealth and the socio-cultural practices of the upper class are popular because it is the fantasy of its lower class audience (Barkin, 2004, p. 117). This claim has been used defend the sinetron format for decades. But ―white noise‖ reveals that although the rating body may note the sinetron is selected by a viewer among other shows, it does mean that the viewer engages with the text.

This notion of ―white noise‖, though, is not the only myth. Another finding is that those who watch the sinetron are not always of the lower-educated as argued by producers.2 These viewers are aware that they are unrealistic and escapist, but because there are no other alternative shows aired during prime time and its addictive plots, they are loyal to the sinetron. The repetitive formula of the sinetron, and the scarcity of alternative programming, shapes the taste of the audience. This taste is transferred through repetition and replication (Bourdieu, 1984).

The popularity of sinetron is not because sinetron producers envision the desire of the lower classes (or lower educated audience) to escape their social reality, but because of the emotional engagement of the sinetron that shapes habitual practices and, gradually, taste. These findings suggest that although audience rating may be quantitatively accurate, its methodology does not reveal viewer engagement. Thus, I dub this the ―myth of the Indonesian sinetron”.3 This myth argues that quantitative audience ratings prove mainly the number of audiences exposed to the sinetron, but do not prove that the audience relates to any of the representations of it, or whether these representations

1 I define the concept of escapism in Indonesian sinetron in Chapter Four. 2 Ida (2006) argues that even if the audience are of the lower-educated, they do not view the sinetron as passive audience. 3 Television represents ways of affirming lifestyle through engaging audiences in market-based consumption practices (Spittle, 2002) and the repetition and proliferation of homogenous representations is explained as ―taste and consumption‖ (Bourdieu, 1984). 207 reflect their everyday culture. Both types of myth, ―white noise‖ and ―taste transfer‖, reveal that sinetron content does not reflect the culture of its viewers.4

Nevertheless, these rating numbers continue to be reproduced and such audience resistance goes unidentified by the industry. At best, resistance towards dominant representations may surface as market exhaustion in rating numbers. The television producers then read this market exhaustion, which when identified carefully are acts of resistance, as a changing trend in popular sinetron themes. However, discovering audience research methods to reveal viewer engagement is crucial in the Indonesian context.

Critical Viewing

This thesis is the first research on Indonesian television that understands the institutional frameworks, identity constructs, and television viewing as a whole. It is also the first to include various Nielsen and non-Nielsen cities. There are several research issues that I would like to highlight here. Firstly, Liebes and Katz’s (1990) ―critical/referential‖ model was developed to understand the national, ethno-cultural and religious differences in understanding a ―global‖ text (Dallas). Their model tries to demystify the notion of cultural imperialism by looking into the specific interpretations of audiences who do not interpret a global text the same way. Liebes and Katz (1990) reveal that there is a degree of involvement that is seen as an indicator of influence. If the audience is not involved or engaged in a text, then the text cannot influence the viewers.

Here is where the findings of this thesis reveal a different situation. On various occasions, the viewers in this research showed that they are disengaged from the sinetron. They feel the sinetron are designed for the less educated and positioned themselves as experts when approaching the text. Simultaneously, their awareness of its economic value and cultural dominance made them place the text as a dominant, but not dominating, code. They did not resist such representations as Hall’s (1980) ―encoding/decoding‖ model suggests when a dominant ideology conflicts with one’s own. Instead, they sought in their own identity, which can be used to normalise the conflict between what they think as ideal (―politics of representation‖ [Barker, 2003, p.

4 This claim questions as well the effectiveness of television advertising and where rating data and product consumption actually do correlate. 208

445]) and what they think as realistic (commercial logic of the television industry). A common response emerged between the viewers in different cities, despite the particular socio-cultural context of each: the viewers disengaged from the text while engaging in their own socio-cultural conflicts and repositioned television as a normaliser (―television as a national stage‖).

Secondly, Liebes and Katz’s (1990) model was useful in this thesis to understand a large and diverse audience as it finds the pattern of common responses between audience groups. Their ―critical/referential‖ reading though, limits critical thinking to the audience’s awareness of the text’s ideological content. In this thesis, it is revealed that criticism towards the text, comparable to resistance (Hall, 1980), also means an acceptance of another common sense. As an illustration, a common response between viewers in different cities towards the Hidayah clip suggested criticism of irrational practice of religion.5 Although this criticism suggests a resistance to the text’s dominant ideology, it also suggests acceptance of modern religion as common sense. Conversely, in a larger context, the common response of the viewers in all cities I studied did reveal criticism towards the dominance of Islamic culture in television. However, this criticism cannot be separated from their own national identity.

In the eyes of the television stations, Islamic culture offers commodifiable themes. From this perspective, they may just as well substitute religious comedy as the current popular sinetron theme the upcoming year. Similarly, to some sinetron producers and viewers, the popularity of melodramatic sinetron religi was a reaction against the previously dominant supernatural sinetron religi. The popularity of the alternative sinetron religi is a reaction towards the dominance of both. Despite this struggle, because the television industry is a structure, the agency of some sinetron producers and viewers can only operate within this logic. This results in safe portrayals of the majority audience’s culture as imagined by its producers.

A National Stage

Although Couldry’s (2004) ―media as practice‖ attempts to make peace between the conflicting assumptions of political economy and viewer autonomy, and between the

5 With exclusion in Denpasar and Jayapura who avoided and resisted by using their Hindu and Christian identity respectively. 209 ownership of meaning between text and user, he does not explain how one can research audience when media is seen as anchoring practices. Based on this thesis’ findings, I suggest focusing on the ideological practice that the media structured through its economic determinants, how it limits representation, and how these representation triggers the agency of those who feel marginalised. This thesis reveals that the medium’s production, programme, and promised viewers from all over the country simulate a national stage. I’d like to elaborate this in four ways.

Firstly, the television industry is structured by legal and economic factors. It is legitimised by the broadcast permit that is given by the state through KPI and through the business deals between television stations, rating body, and advertisers. Secondly, television producers managed economic risks through avoiding the ―politics of difference‖ (Gupta and Ferguson, 1992; Ang, 2003). They avoided sensitive issues, such as SARA, in favour of their commercial interest. Thirdly, risk avoidance influences the Islamic-themed text that must work with the nation-state idea (e.g. failures of institutions, law enforcement, political campaign, and political fragmentation) because it tries to attract the larger national audience as well.

Lastly, findings reveal that the audiences criticise the dominance of Islamic culture by utilising nationalist tributes. This involves the inclusion of other religious groups and ethnicities. These aspects may seem to challenge commercial television’s homogenous cultural space, but the contestation is fundamentally limited within ―the national stage‖. It also may seem that national identity was useful for the young audience to filter dominant Islamic representations, not unlike how many forms of political Islam all over the world are seen as a source of counter-hegemonic resistance to dominant, global culture (Webb, 2005). But in this case, nationalism is not ―culturally rooted‖ (Anderson, 1983), but a reaction towards the dominance of Islamic culture in what is perceived as a national medium.

In Indonesia today, I argue that television’s feature as a medium that includes nationwide, simultaneous viewership helped the audience imagine other ―sub-national identities‖ that include territories, ethnicities, and religious groups. These identities are imagined around the notion of ―television as a national stage‖ that normalises the tensions between ―core and periphery‖ groups (Wallerstein, 2011). This notion has some resemblance with Shamsul’s (1996) ―nations-of-intent‖ (bangsa idaman) in that

210 the students envision an equality between religious and ethnic groups that is currently denied in the television landscape. They simultaneously desire television to equalise through representing difference and normalise the tension caused by this imbalance. The tension, however, is not perceived by the audience to be caused by inter-group friction or different and conflicting ideologies. Instead it is caused by failures of the state, which was notably an absent force in the minds of the sinetron producers and within textual representation, to manage inter-group, inter-territory, inter-religion, inter-ethnic disparity in economic and social power. The audience saw television as a space to express unrequited aspirations due to the failure of the state in protecting religious and ethnic equality.

Rethinking National Identity

Anderson’s (1983) ―imagined communities‖ places great emphasis on print capitalism that had cultivated the spread of social discoveries through increasingly borderless communication. This resulted in the spread of common languages and national consciousness to a previously separated readership. The spread of Islamic culture in television is also made possible through the logic of capitalism, but the complexities of television centralisation, commercialisation, and industry structurisation had also triggered organisational and individual aversions and agency among members.

This dialectic challenges Anderson’s constructivist position in approaching print media, more so because the technological and economic infrastructure that support the industry has shaped deterministic economic and social flows in content production. Instead of breaking down pre-national cultural systems, it has been constructing supra-national culture through imagining Islamic communities. Instead of the breaking down of national cultural systems as would be assumed in constructivist arguments, audiences resisted the dominance of Islam by contrasting it against the country’s pluralist foundations.

For decades during the New Order, the state assumed the ―parent‖ figure that guides what is more and national through the ―bapak-anak” (father-child) relations of state- citizen (Spyers, 2004) and ―state ibuism‖ (Suryakusuma, 1996). The dominance of Islamic culture after decades of state construction through institutions (including media and educational) prompted young audiences to assume this role. Nationalism emerged

211 as an ideological resistance to the dominance of a religious culture in a ―national‖ medium or in other words ―nationalism takes form in an already cultural and changing world‖ (Fischer, 2003, 493).

Nationhood as imagined by young Indonesian audiences is territorial. The significance of television at the centre is to provide a stage for the ―politics of difference‖ (Gupta and Ferguson, 1992; Ang, 2003). The notion of nationhood accommodates the diverse ―discourses of loyalty and affiliation – sometimes linguistic, sometimes racial, sometimes religious‖ (Appadurai, 1996, p. 45). But unlike Appadurai (1996), this thesis reveals that it is also territorial (berhubungan dengan kedaerahan). The ethnic roots of each area, including local cultural marginalisation,6 are mentioned by those in the position of the marginalised.

―Territoriality‖, which interrelates with ethnicity and religion, is oriented towards a future expectation of progress and economic development. This notion of progress is expected to end central-local imbalances of power. Anderson’s (1999) argument that Indonesia’s nationhood has been oriented towards the future and its social basis was on the youth is relevant today. The ―young Indonesians‖ who were part of this study are aware of their role in the nation’s future and almost collectively see that the post- authoritarian state is failing to recognise multicultural and economic problems. They see television’s free market-capitalism (Baumol, 2002), instead of state intervention, as a means to reorganise this imbalance.

Given the notion of ―television as national stage‖ that functions to normalise this power imbalance, it would be more obvious to relate this with Billig’s (1991) stress on routines and ―flaggings‖ rather than to relate it to Anderson’s (1983) rooted ―imagined communities‖. But from my perspective, nationalism to the young Indonesians in this study is both about mundane symbols or ―tokenisms‖ and about the process of accepting national ideology and Islamic cultural dominance as common sense. Gramsci noted the importance of struggle in this process and that ―common sense is not something rigid and immobile, but is continually transforming itself‖ (Gramsci, 1971, in Hall, 1982, p. 73).

6 I mention the historical local subjugations criticised by Anderson (1999) in Chapter One. 212

However, this struggle cannot be separated from media economy or, generally speaking, the business relationship between television stations, producers, rating body, advertisers, and audience. The human subjectivity, and how strongly viewers can exercise their agency, is inseparable from the logic of capitalism. The role of television here is crucial, as it is both a medium structured by its economy and an ideological apparatus that operationalises ideology within its structure, content, and audience (Althusser, 1971). This structure has resulted in the dominance of Islamic culture in a national space, perceived by the audience as religious marginalisation.

This marginalisation was seen by the religiously, ethnically and socially diverse viewers as going against the country’s pluralist foundations. The viewers rearticulated national identity, particularly reclaiming religious and ethnic diversity as ―sub-national identities‖ (Anderson, 1999) and advocating for their nation-of-intent (Shamsul, 1996). Although the viewers have mentioned other sub-national identities (i.e. class, gender, youth), these were excluded when discussions narrowed down to nationhood. In the wholeness of the students’ imagination of the nation, sub-national identities that are not religious and ethnic are ignored. This exclusion suggests that the young Indonesians’ national identity is a legacy of the New Order’s national consciousness, which had tried to maintain national stability by managing social, ethnic, religious fragmentation in favour of national integration (Anderson, 1983; Kitley, 2000; Sen and Hill, 2000). This raises the question of why, in a period where political expression is no longer bound by an authoritarian regime, are young Indonesians excluding them? The answer to this is provided by the second main finding of this thesis.

In the context of television, commercial logic has cultivated a homogenous common sense in favour of ―risk aversion‖ (Barkin, 2004). Although the motive behind avoiding particular social fragmentation is economic, the modes through which they operate are similar. This mode of seeking a universal and popular identity is so common sense it is unchallenged by television producers and viewers alike. Firstly, their awareness of the existence of particular ―sub-national identities‖, or ―partial inclusion‖, is common sense because the New Order national consciousness is the foundation upon which Indonesian identity today was constructed. Secondly, because Islamic ideologies and commercial values have combined, they permeate a medium with nationwide reach. Despite some awareness of other sub-national identities, those that cannot be commodified are excluded from national imaginings. Consequently, historical legacies contain the very

213 national imagination that is thought to advocate a greater scope of pluralism after the collapse of the authoritarian rule.

214

APPENDICES

Appendix 5.1 List of Hidayah Episodes.

No Air Date Title (Indonesian) Title (English) Wanita Cantik Mati Dengan Dada Beautiful Lady Dies with Decaying 1 22 Aug 2005 Membusuk Chest Both Legs Severed for Kicking 2 5 Sept 2005 Dua Kaki Putus Akibat Tendang Ibu Mother 3 12 Sept 2005 Lidah Menjulur di Ujung Usia Protruding Tongue Close to Death Sebelah Mata Mayat Tak Bisa 4 19 Sept 2005 Dipejamkan Eye of Corpse Unable to Close 5 26 Sept 2005 Perut Membesar Menjelang Ajal Stomach Swells Close to Death 6 10 Oct 2005 Si Sombong Kaya Raya Jadi Babu The Rich Snob becomes a Servant Jenazah Membungkuk dalam 7 11 Oct 2005 Kuburan Corpse Bends Over in Grave Suka Menghina Orang Jenazah Sukar Corpse Difficult to Bury for Living 8 13 Oct 2005 Dikebumikan in Contempt Merebut Tanah Saudara Kuburan Grave Filled with Skeletons for 9 8 Nov 2005 Dipenuhi Tulang Stealing Relative's Land Kaki Lumpuh Karena Durhaka Pada Paralysed Legs for Being 10 10 Nov 2005 Suami Impertinent towards Husband 11 11 Nov 2005 Penutup Keranda Tiba-tiba Tersibak Casket Cover Suddenly Uncovered 12 22 Nov 2005 Kutu Keluar dari Jenazah Lice Infested Corpse Sering Mengejek Adzan di Masjid Corpse Turns to Dog for Mocking 13 23 Nov 2005 Meninggalnya Berubah Jadi Anjing Mosque Calling of Prayer 14 9 Dec 2005 Tanah Kuburan Longsor Graveyard Landside Azab Bagi Pelacur, Bau Busuk The Prostitute's Fate, Stench Close 15 14 Dec 2005 Menjelang Sakratul Maut to Death Akibat Bohongi Orangtua, Leher Strangled to Death for Lying to 16 11 Jan 2006 Tercekik Hingga Maut Parents Azab Seorang Istri yang Suka 17 21 Apr 2006 Berselingkuh The Fate of the Adulterous Wife Azab Istri yang Menggunakan Sihir The Fate of the Wife Who Uses 18 5 May 2006 untuk Menaklukkan Suami Magic to Dominate Husband 26 May Kematian Majikan Yang Suka The Death of the Abusive 19 2006 Menganiaya Pembantu Employer 20 7 Jun 2006 Azab Seorang Mertua Dzalim The Fate of the Evil Mother-in-Law The Tragic Death of the Young Kematian Tragis Janda Muda Widow Who Uses Magical Beauty 21 9 Jun 2006 Pemakai Susuk Pemikat Implants Berani Bersumpah kepada Orang Hit by Truck for Swearing on 22 16 Jun 2006 Tua Meninggal Ketabrak Truk Parents Durhaka terhadap Ibu Menjelang Skin Develops Scales for Rebelling 23 28 Jun 2006 Ajal Tubuh Bersisik Seperti Ikan against Mother 24 23 Aug 2006 Meninggal Tergenang Darah Death Wallowing in Blood Akhir Khayat Seorang Germo, Meninggal Setelah Memakan The Pimp Who Died After Eating 25 15 Sept 2006 Kotorannya Sendiri His Own Stool 26 14 Feb 2007 Menantu Durjana The Evil Son-in-Law 27 21 Mar 2007 Ilmu Pelet Membuat Gila Black Magic Leads to Insanity 28 28 Mar 2007 Wanita Kikir The Stingy Woman 29 4 Apr 2007 Karma Anak Angkat The Stepson's Karma 30 12 Apr 2007 Anakmu Dosamu Your Child, Your Sin

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The Woman Who Seduces A 31 25 Apr 2007 Wanita Penggoda Sejuta Pria Million Men 32 2 May 2007 Pendusta Agama The Infidel 26 May 33 2007 Dukun Penipu The Lying Witchdoctor 34 3 Jun 2007 Kisah Preman yang Tragis The Tragic Story of the Gangster 35 17 Jun 2007 Penjual Istri The Man Who Sold His Own Wife 36 23 Jun 2007 Ibu yang Zholim The Tyrannous Mother Istri Mandul Diberkahi Anak Kembar 37 12 Aug 2007 Empat Infertile Wife Bears Quadruplets Source: Processed from Trans TV Management and YPMA.

Appendix 5.2 Complete List of Hidayah episodes until February 2007.

No Episode Title (Bahasa Indonesia) Air Date Re-run 1 Jenazah dihanyutkan ke sungai 11/07/2005 06/09/2006 2 Bangkit dari kubur setelah 3 hari meninggal 18/07/2005 13/09/2006 3 Jenazah berbalik arah di liang kubur 25/07/2005 4 Kepala mayat anak durhaka dipenuhi paku 01/08/2005 5 Kisah tragis nenek penjudi 08/08/2005 6 Tukang teluh mati dengan punggung berlubang 15/08/2005 7 Wanita cantik mati dengan dada membusuk 22/08/2005 8 Punggung memar kebiruan 29/08/2005 9 Dua kaki putus akibat menendang ibu 05/09/2005 10 Lidah menjulur diujung usia 12/09/2005 11 Sebelah mata tidak bisa dipejamkan 19/09/2005 12 Perut membesar dan membusuk menjelang ajal 26/09/2005 13 Suka menghina orang Jenazah sukar dikebumikan 03/10/2005 14 Si sombong kaya raya jadi babu 10/10/2005 15/11/2006 15 Jenazah membungkuk di dalam kuburan 11/10/2005 16 Keracunan di petang Ramadhan 17/10/2005 17 Perut melepuh menjelang ajal 24/10/2005 18 Ulat keluar dari mulut mayat 31/10/2005 19 Merebut tanah saudara kuburan dipenuhi tulang 08/11/2005 20 Tanah kuburan longsor 09/12/2005 21 Kaki lumpuh karena durhaka pada suami 10/11/2005 22 Penutup keranda tiba-tiba tersibak 11/11/2005 23 Anak durhaka lumpuh dikubur 15/11/2005 24 Terserang stroke setelah susuk dicabut 16/11/2005 25 Dubur jenazah mengeluarkan darah 17/11/2005 26 4 kali siksa hadapi sakratul maut 18/11/2005 27 Kutu keluar dari jenazah 22/11/2005 Sering mengejek adzan di mesjid meninggalnya 28 berubah jadi anjing 23/11/2005 29 Tragedi di pagi Idul Fitri (bag 1) 24/11/2005 30 Tragedi di pagi Idul Fitri (bag 2) 25/11/2005 31 Ribuan lebah bersarang diwajah jenazah 29/11/2005 32 Nasib jenazah orang kikir 30/11/2005

216

33 Karma akibat terlantarkan anak istri 01/12/2005 34 karma akibat terlantarkan anak istri 2 02/12/2005 35 Doa perempuan sholeh meruntuhkan istana 06/12/2005 36 Pemimpin dzalim setelah dibunuhi 07/12/2005 37 Akibat makan uang setan jadi gila 08/12/2005 38 Curang berdagang mayat mengecil 09/12/2005 39 Akhir hayat seorang hajah kikir 13/12/2005 Adzab bagi pelacur, bau busuk menjelang 40 sakratulmaut 14/12/2005 41 Gara-gara tuntut ilmu kaya mayat anaknya … 16/12/2005 42 Berani mempermainkan sumpah mati ditabrak … 20/12/2005 43 Tidak bersyukur atas karunia Allah, seorang… 21/12/2005 44 Ingkar pada agama dan orang tua tewas di… 22/12/2005 45 Balasan istri selingkuh saat berzina di… 23/12/2005 46 Adzab bagi pemburu saat maut dijemput setan 27/12/2005 47 Serakah pada harta 28/12/2005 48 Suka omongin orang dan menjilat bos 29/12/2005 49 Kuburan menyempit dan berair 30/12/2005 50 Meninggal dengan tubuh meringkuk 03/01/2006 51 Menipu uang derma mesjid 04/01/2006 52 Tobat setelah menghina ulama besar 05/01/2006 53 Matinya seorang pejabat korup 06/01/2006 54 Tubuh kaku seperti boneka 10/01/2006 55 Akibat bohongi ortu leher seperti tercekik 11/01/2006 56 Adzab penjual bangkai ayam 12/01/2006 57 Gemar memasang togel … 13/01/2006 58 Suka ke dukun mati banyak kutu 17/01/2006 59 Lutut tumbuh benjolan menjelang ajal 18/01/2006 60 Ulat dan kotoran keluar dari mulut pengu… 19/01/2006 61 Jenazah diganggu babi hutan saat di… 20/01/2006 62 Tubuh hangus dan kaku saat mencuri 24/01/2006 63 Rinduku kubawa pulang 25/01/2006 64 Adzab pedagang yang curang dan kikir 26/01/2006 65 Gadis pembawa kabar 27/01/2006 09/06/2007 66 Adzab sinden ngetop meninggal dengan alis… 31/01/2006 67 Anak durhaka disambar petir 01/02/2006 68 Taubatnya seorang model cantik 02/02/2006 69 7 kali menjual bayi, pada bayi ke 8 perut me… 03/02/2006 70 Jalan berliku menanti kupulang 07/02/2006 71 Akibat gila harta jabatan dan kedudukan .. 08/02/2006 72 Jalan panjang sang buron 09/02/2006 73 Kulit jenazah mengeras 10/02/2006 74 Suka omongin dan fitnah 14/02/2006 75 Suka mencuri kedua tangan jenazah melepuh 15/02/2006 76 Akibat utamakan istri menderita saat sakit 16/02/2006 77 Melekat diliang lahat 17/02/2006 78 3 kali tanah kubur merembas akibat dzalimi … 21/02/2006

217

79 Kusir sederhana 22/02/2006 80 Sinting sekeluarga akibat dzalim pada ade… 23/02/2006 81 Taubat sang lesbian 24/02/2006 82 N/a 28/02/2006 83 Tragis kematian tukang bakso 01/03/2006 84 Azab Ibu dan Anak Durhaka 02/03/2006 85 Wanita Sholeha Jenazahnya Berbau Harum 03/03/2006 86 N/a 07/03/2006 87 N/a 08/03/2006 88 N/a 09/03/2006 89 N/a 10/03/2006 90 Mayat Dinaungi Akar Pohon Tua 14/03/2006 91 N/a 15/03/2006 92 N/a 16/03/2006 93 Gemar Membungakan Uang 17/03/2006 Azab Bagi Si Kembar Pembunuh Orang Tua 94 Kandung 21/03/2006 95 Akibat Sumpah Adik Merangkak 22/03/2006 96 Taubatnya Seorang Perampok Pembunuh 23/03/2006 97 Mayat Dikoyak Macan Dalam Kubur 24/03/2006 98 N/a 28/03/2006 99 N/a 29/03/2006 100 Karena Musyrik Jenazah Terpental dari Liang Kubur 30/03/2006 101 Perbudak Anak Yatim Piatu Terhimpit Gerbang 31/03/2006 102 N/a 04/04/2006 16/06/2007 103 Kampung Penjudi Diserang Ratusan Buruh 05/04/2006 104 Mimpi Taubat Memenuhi Panggilan Ilahi 06/04/2006 105 Suami Zhalim Meninggal dalam Pelukan Istri 07/04/2006 106 N/a 11/04/2006 107 Seorang Pembantu yang Dimuliakan Allah 12/04/2006 108 N/a 13/04/2006 109 N/a 14/04/2006 110 N/a 18/04/2006 111 Jelang Ajal Perut Pemabuk Busung dan Bau 19/04/2006 112 Meninggal Setelah Tahu Hakikat Memakai J… 20/04/2006 113 Azab Seorang Istri yang Suka Berselingkuh 21/04/2006 114 Jenazah Penari Ular … 25/04/2006 02/06/2007 115 N/a 26/04/2006 116 Azab Preman Kampung Mati dalam Keadaan O… 27/04/2006 117 Insyafnya Penyabung Ayam 28/04/2006 118 Sering Memfitnah Liang Kubur Mengeluarkan … 02/05/2006 119 Koruptor Mati di Atas Uang Simpanan 03/05/2006 120 Durhaka Pada Ibu Mati Mulut Menganga 04/05/2006 121 Azab Istri yang menggunakan Sihr untuk Mena… 05/05/2006 122 Surga Wanita Muslim ada di Telapak Kaki 09/05/2006 123 Azab Seorang Rentenir yang Kejam 10/05/2006 124 Suka Berbohong Meninggal dengan Mulut Sobek 11/05/2006

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125 Akibat Pesugihan Meninggal dengan Bisul 12/05/2006 126 Tidak Menjaga Amanah Setiap Menggali Uang… 16/05/2006 127 Menghardik Pengemis Tewas Kecelakaan 17/05/2006 128 Jangan Pernah Menabur Angin 18/05/2006 129 Kupertaruhkan Keinsyafan Lewat Nyawa 19/05/2006 130 Ketika Jenazah Rentenir Dikafankan, kain… 23/05/2006 131 Sebuah Kesombongan Seorang Kawan 24/05/2006 132 Azab Seorang Centeng Meninggal dengan Ke… 25/05/2006 133 Kematian Majikan yang Suka Menganiaya Pembantu 26/05/2006 134 Makelar Tanah Licik Mati di Pematang Sawah 31/05/2006 135 Sumpah Si Miskin pada Orang Kaya yang Pelit 01/06/2006 136 Berniat Buruk pada Janda Kaya Meninggal A… 02/06/2006 137 Azab Seorang Mertua Dzalim 07/06/2006 138 Akhir Hidup Seorang Pemabuk dan Pembuat … 08/06/2006 139 Kematian Tragis Janda Muda Pemakai Susuk 09/06/2006 140 Meninggalnya Tengkulak Beras 14/06/2006 141 Si Miskin Lupa Syukur 15/06/2006 142 Berani Bersumpah pada Orang Tua Meninggal… 16/06/2006 143 Kaya Karena Memelihara Tuyul Rumah Hangus 21/06/2006 144 Azab Manusia Rakus dan Suka Mencuri 22/06/2006 145 Penyesalan Seorang Ibu terhadap Anaknya 23/06/2006 146 Durhaka Terhadap Ibu Menjelang Ajal Bersisik 28/06/2006 147 Laki-laki Mati di Rumah Pondok Indah 29/06/2006 148 Akhir Hayat Si Sombong 30/06/2006 149 Menghina Wanita Tua Seumur Hidup Darman… 05/07/2006 150 Tusukan 13 06/07/2006 151 Anak Durhaka Tanah Wakaf Meninggal… 07/07/2006 152 Meninggalnya Pawang Hujan 12/07/2006 153 Pelit Membawa Lalat 14/07/2006 154 Kuburan Penuh Air dan Berbau 19/07/2006 155 Mayat Tukang Santet Tubuh Penuh Luka Cab… 21/07/2006 156 Mayat Mengering dan Mengeluarkan Darah 26/07/2006 157 Termakan Sumpah Orang Tua 2 Tahun Kulit … 28/07/2006 158 30 Menit Dikubur Kepala Bolong 02/08/2006 159 Akibat Menebar Paku Kedua Tangan Kosim L… 04/08/2006 Preman Pasar Meninggal dengan Bambu Masih 160 Menancap 09/08/2006 161 Penjahat dan Anak Kecil 11/08/2006 162 Kuping Membesar dan Bernanah Hingga Ajal 16/08/2006 163 Mantri yang Sombong 18/08/2006 164 Meninggal Tergenang Darah 23/08/2006 165 N/a 25/08/2006 166 Meninggal Setelah Menyantap Makanan Yang… 30/08/2006 167 Janda Genit Itu Menjadi Gila 01/09/2006 168 Juragan Kontrakan Itu Akhirnya Insyaf 06/09/2006 169 Balasan Untuk Ayah Tiri … 08/09/2006 170 Keikhlasan Berubah Karena Harta 13/09/2006

219

171 Akhir Hayat Seorang Germo 15/09/2006 172 Adik Rebut Kakak Iparnya 20/09/2006 173 Wasiat untuk Istri Tersayang 22/09/2006 174 Anak Durhaka Membohongi Ibunya yang Buta 10/01/2007 19.00 175 Guru Agama yang Tercela 10/01/2007 20.00 176 Jeritan Dukun Pelet 24/01/2007 19.00 177 Akhir Hayat Lesbian 24/01/2007 20.00 178 Terkubur Hidup-Hidup 07/02/2007 19.00 179 Kisah Si Upik Abu 07/02/2007 180 Azab Suami Jual Istri 21/02/2007 181 Anak dan Menantu Durhaka 21/02/2007 182 Kontrak Habis (ditulis gitu di katalognya) N/a Source: Program Planning & Scheduling Services Trans TV.

Appendix 5.3 List of Munajah Cinta Episodes.

Episode Air Date Air Time Note 1 5/4/08 20.02 Available 2 5/5/08 20.01 Available 3 5/6/08 19.59 Available 4 5/7/08 20.01 Available 5 N/a N/a Available 6 N/a N/a Available 7 5/10/08 20.01 Available Part 1 & of 5 8 5/11/08 20.06 Available 9 5/12/08 20.05 Available Part 1 to 3 of 5 10 5/13/08 20.00 Not available 11 5/14/08 20.04 Available 12 5/15/08 19.59 Available 13 5/16/08 19.07 Available 14 5/17/08 20.00 Available 15 5/18/08 20.15 Available 16 5/19/08 20.15 Available 17 5/20/08 18.01 Available 18 5/21/08 20.15 Available 19 5/22/08 20.07 Available 20 5/24/08 20.13 Available 21 5/25/08 19.54 Not available 22 5/26/08 20.00 Available 23 5/27/08 20.04 Not available 24 5/28/08 20.08 Available 25 5/29/08 20.11 Available Part 1 to 3 of 5 26 5/31/08 20.08 Available 27 6/1/08 19.59 Not available 28 6/2/08 20.05 Not available 29 6/3/08 20.04 Not available 30 6/4/08 20.01 Available 31 6/5/08 20.06 Available 32 6/7/08 19.51 Available

220

33 6/8/08 19.59 Available Part 2 to 4 of 5 34 6/9/08 20.05 Available 35 6/10/08 20.01 Available 36 6/11/08 19.59 Available Part 1 and 2 of 5 37 N/a N/a Available 38 6/14/08 20.02 Available 39 6/15/08 20.01 Available 40 6/16/08 19.58 Not available 41 6/17/08 20.03 Available 42 6/18/08 20.08 Available 43 6/19/08 20.09 Available 44 6/21/08 20.01 Available 45 6/22/08 20.10 Available 46 6/23/08 20.05 Not available 47 6/24/08 20.09 Not available 48 6/25/08 20.30 Not available 49 6/26/08 20.06 Not available 50 6/28/08 20.16 Not available 51 6/29/08 20.03 Available 52 6/30/08 20.09 Available 53 7/1/08 20.14 Available Part 1 and 3 of 5 54 7/2/08 20.01 Available 55 7/3/08 20.19 Available 56 7/5/08 20.14 Available 57 7/6/08 20.18 Available Part 1 to 3 of 5 58 7/7/08 20.05 Available Part 1 of 5 59 N/a N/a Available 60 7/9/08 20.15 Not available 61 7/10/08 20.09 Available 62 7/12/08 20.04 Available 63 7/13/08 20.13 Available 64 7/14/08 20.13 Available 65 7/15/08 20.19 Not available 66 7/16/08 20.54 Available 67 7/17/08 21.01 Available 68 7/19/08 21.15 Available 69 7/20/08 20.03 Available 70 7/21/08 21.16 Not available 71 7/22/08 21.31 Available 72 7/23/08 21.32 Available 73 7/24/08 21.08 Available 74 7/25/08 21.24 Available Part 1 and 2 of 5 75 7/27/08 21.30 Available 76 7/28/08 21.29 Available 77 7/29/08 21.20 Available 78 7/30/08 21.30 Available 79 7/31/08 21.16 Not available 80 8/1/08 21.34 Available 81 8/3/08 21.20 Available 82 8/4/08 22.05 Available 83 8/5/08 21.29 Available

221

84 8/6/08 22.00 Available 85 8/9/08 21.30 Available 86 8/10/08 22.00 Available 87 8/11/08 22.00 Available Part 1 and 3 of 5 88 8/12/08 21.30 Available Part 3 of 5 89 8/13/08 22.00 Available 90 8/16/08 21.25 Available 91 N/a N/a Available 92 8/18/08 20.33 Available Source: Compiled from YPMA, Tabloid Nova and Tabloid Bintang.

Appendix 5.4 List of Para Pencari Tuhan 2 Episodes.

Episode Air Date Subuh Magrib Rerun Air Time Air Time 1 9/1/08 04.06 17.41 2 9/2/08 02.49 17.45 3 9/3/08 03.01 17.41 4 9/4/08 02.50 18.30 5 9/5/08 03.22 17.55 6 9/6/08 02.50 17.39 7 9/7/08 02.57 17.41 8 9/8/08 02.53 17.30 9 9/9/08 02.58 17.45 10 9/10/08 02.56 N/a 11 9/11/08 03.00 N/a 12 9/12/08 03.14 N/a 13 9/13/08 03.15 N/a 14 9/14/08 03.59 17.39 15 9/15/08 03.25 17.38 16 9/16/08 N/a N/a 17 9/17/08 N/a N/a 18 9/18/08 03.37 17.38 19 8/19/08 03.28 17.37 20 9/20/08 N/a N/a 21 9/21/08 03.11 N/a 22 9/22/08 03.42 17.37 23 9/23/08 03.13 17.56 24 9/24/08 03.26 17.56 25 9/25/08 04.08 17.30 26 9/26/08 03.05 17.46 27 9/27/08 N/a N/a 28 9/28/08 N/a N/a 29 9/29/08 N/a N/a 30 9/30/08 N/a N/a Source: Compiled from YPMA, Tabloid Nova and Tabloid Bintang,

222

Appendix 5.5

Dede (suami): Jadi, Mama mau menikah dengan saya hanya karena menganggap saya selalu menurut? Mama tidak pernah menghargai banting tulang Papa menghidupi keluarga? Tari (istri): Lho, apa saya pernah nyuruh Papa kerja? Atau saya pernah minta duit dari Papa? Ngga kan! Kenapa? Itu karena saya bisa cari duit sendiri. Saya bisa jadi model, saya bisa main sinetron. Lagipula orangtua saya itu kaya raya, Pa. Ibaratnya saya kekurangan uang pun saya bisa minta sama mereka. Jadi Papa itu ngga usah ya nyuruh saya begini atau begitu.

Appendix 5.6

Ibu: Astaghfirullahaladzim, Rina, ingat dosa, Nak. Rina: Aduh, ngga usah ngomongin dosa deh, Bu. Ibu tahu ngga sih, ini semua salah Ibu. Rina pingin kaya teman-teman Rina. Bisa naik mobil AC, beli baju-baju mahal, makan di restoran mewah. Ibu bisa ngga, ngasih kaya gitu?

Appendix 5.7

Sanjaya: (Melempar surat kabar) Hancur semuanya! Hancur! Uang milyaran rupiah yang Papa keluarkan untuk membangun opini publik yang baik hancur seketika karena publisitas murahannya Attar. Baron: Maaf, Pak, Bu. Tanpa mengurangi rasa hormat, saya rasa semua orang juga tahu bagaimana sifat Mas Attar dulu. Ya mungkin sekarang dia sudah berubah dan insaf. Ini juga mungkin sisa dari dosa-dosanya di masa lalu dan sebaiknya Mas Attar itu mempertanggungjawabkan semua perbuatannya. Intan: Memangnya ngga ada cara lain apa? Misalnya saja mengadopsi Daniel, itu kan bsia kita lakukan. Baron: Tidak ada cara lain, Bu. Kita harus bertanggungjawab penuh. Ya kecuali kalau Bapak dan Ibu mau kalah dalam pemilihan nanti. Intan: Pa, gimana ini, Pa?

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Sanjaya: Baron benar. Nikahkan Attar dengan Elena secepatnya.

Appendix 5.8

Intan: Meeting partai tadi gimana, Pa? Sanjaya: Sekarang ini semua orang lawan politik Papa gunakan isu Elena untuk menjegal Papa. Image Papa sekarang ini di luaran sangat buruk sekali, Ma. Bahkan tadi waktu Papa pidato LSM perempuan terang-terangan berdemo di depan Papa. Mereka menuntut supaya Papa mundur dari pencalonan, katanya Papa pro-poligami.

Appendix 5.9 Bakrie: Ini masalah moral, masalah susila. Saya laki- laki, tapi saya tidak suka melihat seorang laki-laki yang mempermainkan perasaan perempuan dan doyan main perempuan. Dan pemilik daripada perusahaan travel ini adalah seorang laki-laki yang doyan memainkan perasaan perempuan seperti yang selama ini diberitakan, seperti yang ada di dalam infotainment. Betul kan? Pegawai: Betul, Pak. Bakrie: Ini masalah agama dan juga masalah moral. Jadi maaf, bukan saya bermaksud menyakiti Mba, tapi saya terpaksa membatalkan karena masalah agama dan moral bagi saya sangat penting. Saya tidak ingin ibadah saya menjadi kotor, rusak karena menggunakan jasa travel umrah ini.

Appendix 5.10

Pria #1: Ngga bisa kita diginiin terus sama dia. Baru umrah lima kali aja udah sombong. Pria #2: Bikin resah warga aja. Sekali-sekali mesti diberi pelajaran. Kita laporin ke Pak RT aja, yuk. Pria #3: Ngapain sih lo, ngelaporin dia segala. Pria #2: Eh, biar si haji kecil itu tahu, bahwa kita wong cilik juga punya kekuatan hukum yang sama.

224

Appendix 5.11

Ustad Ferry: Bener tuh, tanyakan pada ahlinya. Bang Jack: Ya tapi kan, ustad juga ahli. Ustaf Ferry: Oh lain, kalau saya kan komentator. Eh, maksud saya, ahli nasehat.

Appendix 5.12

Bang Jack: Dulu musholla kita sepi gara-gara banyak orang nyelamatin keluarganya dari kemiskinan. Barong: Kalau sekarang, Bang? Bang Jack: Sekarang musholla kita tetap sepi, sebab banyak orang nyelamatin pekerjaannya.

Appendix 5.13

Bang Jack: Iya, tapi kenapa mesti panjat pinang, Pak Jalal? Pak Jalal: (…) Emangnya kenapa panjat pinang? Bang Jack: Panjat pinang itu tradisi dari para pembesar Belanda waktu kita dulu, Pak Jalal. Pak Jalal: Wah! Keren dong! Bang Jack: Ya ngga juga. Sebab dulu orang-orang pribumi itu disuruh berebut, panjat pinang, buat dapat hadiah pakaian, keju, gula, kopi dan lain sebagainya. Nah, sementara tuh si para pembesar Belanda cuma nonton, ketawa-ketawa sambil minum teh, ngeliatin orang-orang pribumi berebut hadiah sandang dan pangan. Pak Jalal: Oh ya? Tapi itu kan sudah jadi tradisi kita, Bang. Bang Jack: Pak Jalal, tradisi di masyarakat kita ini juga perlu dikoreksi. Nah, buat saya tradisi panjat pinang itu cuma buat manjangin ketawanya para penjajah buat merendahkan martabat bangsa kita.

Appendix 5.14

Bang Jack: Persis umat kita yang kebanyakan partai. Makin banyak benderanya, masing-masing partai makin kecil kekuatannya. Bagai buih di laut, banyak tapi ngga punya kekuatan apa- apa.

225

Azzam: Ayo kita wudhu, Bang. Terus kita bikin partai baru juga. Bang Jack: Jangan, kita jangan ikutin mereka ya. Ini contoh orang beramal tanpa ilmu. Tungguin sampai mereka selesai shalat semua.

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