This book was always intended to examine three key issues: first, the intellectual dynamics occurring in the NU community up to the development of the discourse of Islamic post-traditionalism; secondly, the factors that influenced the emergence of Islamic post-traditionalism; and thirdly, the forms and discourses that have developed in the NU community through the Islamic post-traditionalist paradigm.

Examination and analysis revealed that the emergence of a young NU generation with new and more progressive thoughts is indeed unique and interesting. It is unique and interesting because NU, which is seen to be traditional and is often stigmatized as backward, ignorant, and old-fashioned, actually has within it a group of youths who think and participate in movements in a way that is able to overcome this stigma. This cannot be separated from the NU Congress's decision to return to the Khittah of 1926 in 1984. The decision was to have extensive implications for NU, not just in political life, but also in terms of the orientation of its struggle. While prior to this decision, NU's success was always measured by how far NU was able to insert its cadres into strategic positions in the government and legislative branches, afterwards it was measured by how much NU contributed to alternative progressive thought and empowerment, especially for society.

This change in orientation was largely due to two highly influential figures, namely Kiai Achmad Siddiq and Kiai Abdurrahman Wahid. Both were important NU leaders who cared more about sociocultural development than socio-political development. Their existence gave the young NU generation an intellectual spirit. One of Kiai Achmad Siddiq's important contributions was his success in resolving the tension between religion and the state when the New Order launched Pancasila as the soul basis or ideology for social and political organizations. At the same time, KH Abdurrahman Wahid played a significant role as the social, political, and cultural umbrella for the younger NU generation to develop critical progressive thought within the tradition of NU intellectualism. The tradition of progressive thought amongst the NU youth has recently been institutionalized in the NGOs they manage. This NGO tradition that develops programmes and is oriented towards social development, especially that of the pesantrencommunity and all the intellectual wealth and traditions it possesses, has had a significant impact on the development of progressive thought in the pesantrencommunity.

Contemporary developments in religious (Islamic) thought within the Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) community reveal an interesting phenomenon, especially amongst the young cadres. They have progressive religious ideas in responding to modernity that stem from the traditional knowledge base they possess, but that are also shaped by the new knowledge they have gained from modernity. They are not only concerned with modernity, which they critique and view very carefully, but also with revitalizing tradition. This revitalization of tradition is not about glorifying and sacralizing tradition, but deeply critiquing it, both in terms of action and thought. In fact, even the pillars of the ahl al-sunnah wa al-jamâ'ah doctrine (belief in the Qur'an, the Prophet's Sunna, and the Muslim community) do not escape criticism. The NU youth's thoughts and ideas are generally more responsive in facing the challenges of modernity when compared to their seniors.

Nevertheless, studying the development of thought within the NU community is no easy task. Although NU is known as a traditional organization, tracking the dynamics of its intellectualism involves many complex elements and variables. This is because although the roots of NU's intellectual tradition are relatively similar, their expression by different NU thinkers is quite varied. This diversity demands that care be taken so as not to arrive at erroneous conclusions. This is even more important when taking a haphazard approach, such as applying the categories of traditionalism versus modernism. These categories are by now well and truly outdated when it comes to looking at where NU is at currently. In short, the spectrum of NU intellectualism has no single face.

This difficulty is also related to the reality that NU intellectualism is a field often neglected by academic studies. Those researching NU, both foreign and native, have the same tendency to examine NU purely from the aspect of politics and power. Meanwhile, the socio-intellectual aspects of NU remain largely unexplored.

FORMATION OF ISLAMIC INTELLECTUALISM IN THE ARCHIPELAGO

Before discussing the foundations of NU intellectualism, it is necessary to examine the initial process behind the formation of the tradition of intellectualism in the Indonesian archipelago more generally. It is necessary to show that the formation of NU intellectualism was not something that happened out of the blue. Rather, the process involved connections with and continuity of the development of thought that was occurring across the Islamic world, especially in Mecca and Medina, which represented the centre of Islamic development. However, it is important to note that in addition to continuity, there was also a dynamic change of past traditions. NU's connection with the tradition of intellectualism in the past was what prevented NU from severing ties with the classical intellectual tradition, and as such, NU is often known as a traditional organization.

The question is, how was NU connected to the intellectual heritage of the ulama (Islamic scholars) of the archipelago? This question is quite important because the tradition of NU intellectualism that has developed tends to reveal a greater connection to Middle Eastern intellectual heritage than to intellectualism within the archipelago. This is apparent in the wealth of classical books or kitab taught in pesantren(traditional Islamic boarding schools), which for the most part are written by Middle Eastern ulama. On this basis, tracking the tradition of intellectualism in the archipelago is intended to form the foundation on which to view the relationship between NU and Indonesian intellectualism. In order to do so, patterns in Indonesian Islam will first be discussed.

Understanding Islam in Indonesia is possible through an examination of how Islam came to Indonesia. There are several theories as to the origin of Islam in Indonesia. The key questions answered by these theories are: when, from where, by whom, and how was Islam brought to Indonesia? In Azyumardi Azra's study, there are at least three theories as to how Islam came to Indonesia. The first theory is that Islam entered Indonesia in the seventh century CE or the first century H (of the Islamic calendar), directly from Saudi Arabia (Handramaut) to the coast of Aceh. This theory was also confirmed in a 1962 seminar in Medan on the coming of Islam to Indonesia.

POST-TRADITIONALISM IN NU?

In this book, the predicate “post-traditionalist” is applied to anyone who desires change within Nahdlatul Ulama (NU). This of course is inherently problematic and must be resolved immediately. However, there is one aspect in the history of NU's foundation that Dr Rumadi does not cover, namely the dialogue between Islam and nationalism, which has been around since before NU was established.

In all his enthusiasm, Rumadi has the tendency to take anything that appears as a “deviation” from old traditionalism, and consider it part of the student revival that is needed today. This attitude, of viewing posttraditionalism as the essence of NU “revival”, is frankly quite dangerous because it can be easily misused.

In fact, there is also a “revival” of older parties to strengthen this old traditionalism, including within NU, in reaction to the attitude that rejects tradition. This does not complement or serve post-traditionalism, but rather opposes it. The most obvious example of this is the emergence of figures such as KH Ma'ruf Amin and KH Sahal Mahfudz. They do not lead NU to “oppose” traditionalism; instead, they uphold traditionalism but in “deviation” to other parties who hold to the old traditionalism. How do we explain the attitude of the Indonesian Council of Ulama (MUI), which is so quick to deem others deviant? Is it not so that this leads to the religious formalism that NU has fought against from the very beginning? Rumadi does not explain this issue. This could well encourage others to consider all NU members as post-traditional.

Thus, it is clear that within NU there is also a denial of the creative dialogue between Islam on the one hand and nationalism on the other. So where then do we place people like Bung Karno, let alone our friends in dialogue such as KH M. Hasjim As'yari and NU kyai in general who are not usually considered? And what of the Mecca chapter of Syarikat Islam that was established in 1913 and went on to inspire a number of efforts to enforce religious traditionalism, but also freed religion from stagnation? What do we label it?

STUCK AGAIN

On a balmy autumn afternoon in 2014 in a not so cosy suburb in Western Sydney I am about to meet Ali, whose story this book begins with, again. A few weeks earlier, I received notice that he had finally been released from immigration detention in Darwin. Despite a number of failed attempts earlier on and “many litres of swallowed salt water”, as Ali put it, he had kept trying to reach Australia by boat. In April 2013, just a few months before the Australian government sealed its borders to maritime arrivals, Ali had eventually made it. The decision to risk his life, once again, on a tiny boat to cross the sea was anything but an easy one. Ali had spent years waiting for his proper resettlement as a recognized refugee. At times, when waiting became unbearable and he was about to lose hope, he had even contemplated returning voluntarily to Somalia, but the UNHCR would not approve this plan, leaving him stuck in Indonesia.

Having faced death once before on a sinking boat near Sumba, Ali was fully aware of the risks involved. When the prices charged by people smugglers dropped in early 2013 because of the very high demand for their services and a sort of “end-of-season sale”, Ali wanted to try his luck once more. He called a number of friends in Europe to lend him money and managed to scrape together AU$2,000. Just after he had paid the money collector, he got notice from the United States Embassy that he was invited for an interview to determine whether or not he could be resettled in the United States. Ali was torn: should he opt to continue the proper process, knowing that in the preceding four years only one Somali person had been approved for resettlement by any destination country?

THE SMUGGLING “INDUSTRY” IN INDONESIA

In this chapter the focus shifts back to the transit migrants in order to explore the correlation between protracted transit and people-smuggling. Through the portrayal of three convicted non-Indonesian people smugglers, it gives an insight into how people-smuggling networks evolved in Indonesia and how they adjusted in response both to increased demand and to intensified enforcement of anti-people-smuggling regulations. It retraces their paths, from rejected asylum seekers to middlemen, recruiters and organizers of people-smuggling ventures. Thus the chapter demonstrates how an extended and more professionalized people-smuggling “industry” is an unintended outcome of Australia's restrictive policies for asylum seekers, of intensified bilateral border control, and of Indonesia's determinedly passive approach to its handling of transit migration.

The hopelessness engendered by spending protracted periods of time in transit has pushed many transit migrants not only to accept higher risks to their own lives during unsafe voyages (Kevin 2012) but also, more significantly, to become actively involved in the irregular transport of transit migrants to Australia. From this perspective transit migrants are not just the clients of smugglers; some of them may also benefit financially from the irregular migration industry as it seeks to satisfy increasing demand among both documented and undocumented asylum seekers and “impatient” refugees. The increase in people-smuggling is, therefore, a result of the absence of legal and timely migration channels; this view is also held by members of the Indonesian police, one of whom stated, “in fact, their decision to create a [people-smuggling] network is based on their despair that they cannot get there [Australia]”. There is also little dispute among scholars of irregular migration that the growth of the smuggling industry is an unintended side effect of stricter visa regulations and increasingly restrictive migration. As George Borjas and Jeff Crisp (2005, p. 3) claim, “there is now good reason to believe that the imposition of restrictive asylum practices has had the effect of diverting migrants to alternative destinations and of prompting them to resort to clandestine forms of movement”.

Relations between Indonesia and Australia are often marked by extreme ups and downs (Brown 2013; Bhakti 2013). Even though Australia has at times been Indonesia's largest aid donor, rapid changes in political mood and underlying mutual mistrust have affected their relationship during the last fifteen years. The issues that have dominated the political agenda, and at times caused serious misunderstanding, have mostly been connected to Islamic terrorism and threats to Indonesia's sovereignty from both local separatism and irregular migration. Since 2009, when the number of asylum seekers coming to Australia by boat started to increase dramatically, the primary objective of Australian politicians has been to put an end to their movement, using a number of different battle cries, such as “stopping the people-smuggler business model” and just “stopping the boats”, which ignore the plight of the people in “the boats”.

Aware that stopping the movement of asylum seekers could not be achieved without the support of Indonesia, Australian politicians tried hard to win concessions from Indonesia by offering substantial incentives, while exerting constant political pressure but often ignoring issues that were important to successive Indonesian governments. As Meidyatama Suryodiningrat, the Jakarta Post's editor-in-chief, noted during a TV panel discussion in July 2013, Australia should not have “unreasonable expectations” when it comes to dealing with irregular migration, given that Indonesia faces many more serious problems with the regular and irregular labour migration of its national workforce and the frequent abuse of labour migrants, especially in Malaysia and Saudi Arabia. Although Indonesia agreed to join Australia-driven anti-people-smuggling initiatives, extended its border control and detention facilities for irregular travellers, and changed laws regulating immigration issues (as outlined in Chapter 6), it has at times complied only reluctantly with Australia's requests. Australia's continuing failure to acknowledge Indonesia's priorities and its repeated overstepping of the boundaries of its authority have caused extreme frustration in Indonesian government circles.

Amongst transit migrants I spoke with, the level of their prior knowledge about Indonesia and the conditions that awaited them there seemed to be low. One young man said he had never heard of Indonesia until a potential smuggler explained to him the advantages of going through Indonesia to reach Australia. In hindsight, he realized that much of what the smuggler had told him was either half-true or entirely wrong. Having to make impromptu decisions about why and where to go, in the midst of political turmoil in their homelands where they lack access to reliable information, means that many transit migrants are surprised by the environment and circumstances they face once they reach Indonesia. Unsurprisingly, they are not well prepared for their stay in transit, which is often much longer than anticipated. Many transit migrants I conversed with seemed astonished on their arrival in Indonesia by everything from the climatic conditions to the archipelago's geographical configuration. For Tariq, who was introduced in Chapter 3, “[i]t was my first time in countries like Thailand, Malaysia or Indonesia and I worried a lot because I did not know anything about those countries”. All that Tariq knew about Indonesia came from a documentary about Bali he had once watched on TV. While he was “pleasantly surprised” on his travels through Thailand and Malaysia, Tariq's disappointment with Indonesia and its visible poverty led him to comment, “I thought there were only beggars in Pakistan and India”.

One of the migrants’ most significant misapprehensions is the belief that Indonesia does not care much about transit migrants and allows them to travel through to Australia unhindered. Although that was the case in the early 2000s, Indonesia has since strengthened its efforts to control the movement of transit migrants into and out of the country and to restrict the operations of people-smuggling networks. This does not mean, however, that intensified law enforcement measures have been entirely successful in stopping an increase in the flows through Indonesia.

DISSIPATED PROTESTS?

In early November 2012, I was sitting in the ground-floor cafeteria of the building where the UNHCR registration office in Jakarta is located. Suddenly, half a dozen minibuses stopped next to the building. Out of the buses climbed a group of Somalis to stage a protest. On their posters were slogans such as “We need resettlement”, “Stop empty promises and empty hopes”, “We suffered in Somalia and yet we are suffering in Indonesia”, “We need durable solution not words”, and “Look at us, Listen to us, Don't ignore us, We are Somalian refugees”. Among the protesters was Ali, whose story is told in Chapter 1.

While they were getting ready for the protest, I had a quick chat with Ali. He told me that this protest action had been inspired by another Somali demonstration in Makassar, where a small group of refugees had gathered in front of the local UNHCR premises and complained about UNHCR and Australian discrimination against them (Abdurrahman 2012). The Makassar protesters, most of whom had lived there since 2010, criticized the fact that there were no Somalis among the refugees resettled in Australia. They had concluded that their exclusion from resettlement was a deliberate decision by the UNHCR and the resettlement countries; they demanded that they be resettled too. Driven by similar suspicions, the Somali protesters in Jakarta demanded a meeting with the chief UNHCR representatives to explain their frustrations. They were not granted a meeting and left the area less than two hours later. Their protest attracted neither an official response from the UNHCR nor any debate, other than minimal coverage in some local and national newspapers (“Heartbreaking Protest” 2012; Leribun 2012).

A few weeks later I visited Ali to bid him farewell before I returned to Melbourne. We discussed a number of things, including the protest in Jakarta. Even though he did not consider the action a success, he was glad that the Somali community in Puncak had been able to express their frustrations. The simple fact that they had managed to organize their travel from Puncak to Jakarta, to raise the money to rent vehicles, and to prepare posters indicated both the sincerity of their complaints and the strong cohesion within the Somali community.