“Data! Data! Data! ― I can’t make bricks without clay,” Sherlock Holmes was described saying in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Adventure of the Copper Beeches.

For students of Indonesian politics, public opinion data is the clay we need to make sense of this year’s national and local elections. The stakes are high: over the past few years, Indonesia has experienced what many observers regard as a democratic erosion.

Consider the recent Constitutional Court ruling that paved the way for Gibran Rakabuming’s inclusion on the ballot as a vice presidential candidate. Was this episode a simple case of elite politics and manoeuvring on the part of Jokowi? Or does it reflect a declining public appetite for the burdens associated with the rule of law?

To answer these sorts of pressing questions, we need access to publicly available survey data.  To be sure, there exist several such sources, including the World Values Surveys (WVS), the Asia Barometer survey, the USAID Demographic and Health Surveys, the Indonesian Family Life Survey (IFLS), and the Pew Center’s study of the World’s Muslims, to list some notable examples. But these surveys tend to be one-off snapshots—a fact that undermines their utility for observing how Indonesians’ attitudes are unfolding in real time and in response to external events. (The World Values Survey was most recently conducted in Indonesia in 2018, for example.)

With an eye towards encouraging data-driven research, since November 2023 we have been conducting weekly public opinion surveys, gauging the attitudes of 1,650 Indonesian adults each week. We will continue to conduct weekly surveys until January 2025, aiming to survey approximately 95,000 Indonesian adults over the course of 58 weeks.

Importantly, we will make the data freely available to interested researchers. We call this initiative High-Frequency Surveys on Indonesians’ Knowledge of and Attitudes on Politics (HI-RES SIKAP). Below, we describe the survey design, the sample, two use case examples, and how to access the data.

The design

The SIKAP project draws inspirations from the Nationscape study run by the Democracy Fund and UCLA. As co-Principal Investigators, we contribute equally to the project and would like to acknowledge funding from the Singapore’s Ministry of Education and the National University of Singapore that has made the project possible.

The key component of SIKAP is the weekly online surveys that we have been running and will continue to run for a total of 58 weeks, from 27 November 2023 to 5 January 2025. This period, as students of Indonesia will immediately notice, covers several politically significant events, such as the presidential election in February 2024, the inauguration of Prabowo Subianto as president in October 2024, and the simultaneous local elections in November 2024.

We developed a set of core modules that are asked across all 58 surveys. That the surveys have overlapping core questions, and are fielded weekly means that SIKAP offers insights on how voters’ attitudes on an issue may change as a response to a political event.

For instance, we can theoretically examine if there is a growing sense of affective polarisation over the course of the election campaign. It might be the case, for instance, that supporters of presidential candidates increasingly become more negative toward each other.

Table 1: Core Modules in SIKAP

Sampling methods

Each SIKAP wave collects data from a fresh sample of 1,650 respondents, provided by the online panel vendor Cint (formerly known as Lucid). In the ideal case, by the conclusion of the project we will have collected data from 95,700 unique respondents. However, for several practical reasons, we allow respondents to be interviewed again after eight weeks have passed since their last interviews.

This gives us the best features of cross-sectional and longitudinal data. Aiming for a fresh sample in each wave enables us to capture a diverse pool of respondents. Allowing for multiple interviews, meanwhile, enables us to track how social and political attitudes of re-interviewed respondents might change over the course of 58 weeks.

Online surveys are not representative of the Indonesian population. Many voters do not have internet access and the underlying factors that drive such access may be correlated with the attitudes in which we are interested in measuring. For example, our sample is more educated than the population.

Nevertheless, we prioritised implementing quotas that enabled us to achieve representational parity on other crucial variables: gender, age, and region. These quotas improve the representativeness of our sample and, at the same time, still ensure that each survey wave can finish in one week.

Table 2: Demographic Quotas in SIKAP

The lack of representativeness of our sample has significant implications. Researchers who wish to use our data are solely responsible for the content of their analyses, but in general we would discourage using the SIKAP data to present simple descriptive statistics or to extrapolate those statistics to the population.

For example, it is not advisable for researchers to analyse our presidential vote preference question and then extrapolate that to argue for how many voters support Anies Baswedan, Prabowo Subianto, or Ganjar Pranowo. That kind of exercises requires a different type of sampling method.

Instead, we believe our data is particularly useful for two types of exercises.

The first is to examine the trend of a political attitude as a function of time. For example, a researcher might examine how, as the election date nears, heated religious rhetoric might lead to more exclusionary attitudes among voters.

The second type of exercises is to examine how a shock created by a significant social or political event leads to changes in trends of certain political attitudes. For example, as we measure respondents’ attitudes toward China, the interested researcher might examine how these attitudes change after a reporting of China’s incursion into Indonesian territories in the Natunas.

These are just few examples and, in the end, different researchers would want to analyse the data differently. Below, we present two preliminary analyses that we have done on the data.

Use case: affective polarisation

How do supporters of a presidential candidate feel toward supporters of other presidential candidates, and how do these feelings change over the course of the election? This is one of the questions that we can examine using the SIKAP data.

SIKAP includes questions about respondents’ presidential vote preferences. It also includes questions that tap into the respondents’ feelings toward supporters of the three presidential candidates that competed in the February 2024 presidential elections. Respondents may indicate their feelings toward supporters of each of the candidates on a 5-point scale that ranges from a strong dislike to a strong like.

Figure 1 presents levels of affective polarisation among the three candidates’ supporters from the first week of SIKAP (27 November 2023–3 January 2024) to the tenth week (29 January 2024–4 February 2024).

Figure 1: Feelings between supporters of presidential candidates

There are at least two notable patterns.

First, each candidate’s supporters feel most favourable toward fellow supporters. This is rather unsurprising. What is interesting, however, is that the feeling is not extreme―on average, a score of 4 out of possible 5. This suggests that political campaigns do not necessarily induce partisans to become more positive or feel more favourable toward their ingroup.

Second, among both supporters of Prabowo Subianto and Anies Baswedan, feelings toward supporters of Ganjar Pranowo are relatively constant in the ten weeks of the campaign period. They hover around the neutral point of 3. In other words, Anies and Prabowo supporters neither like nor dislike Ganjar supporters.

To the contrary, we observe that Prabowo supporters’ feelings toward Anies supporters increasingly become more negative, which is reciprocated by Anies supporters as their feelings toward Prabowo supporters also became more negative in these 10 weeks. This pattern is more interesting among Anies supporters.

Initially, Anies supporters viewed Prabowo supporters more positively than they did Ganjar supporters. Over time, this perception changed such that by early February Anies supporters actually view Ganjar supporters more favourably than Prabowo supporters. This pattern might actually reflect how in the final days of the campaign Anies’s campaign mounted an offensive against Prabowo, highlighting for example his business deals, land ownership, and lukewarm track record as defence minister.

Use case: gender and generational politics in Indonesia

Considerable attention has been given to the role of the youth vote in Indonesia’s upcoming presidential election. For the first time, a majority of voters will be millennials or gen-Z. This is having wide-ranging consequences for how candidates are appealing to voters, and is widely believed to have influenced Prabowo’s rebranding strategy as a “cuddly grandpa.” To what extent is this pivot working to sway young voters?

Figure 2: Support for Prabowo by generation

SIKAP data allows us to examine this question in-depth. In Figure 3, we examine the share of voters from different generations that support Prabowo. The first takeaway that stands out is that Gen-Z voters are much more likely to support Prabowo than older voters—by a margin of about 20 percentage points. This is surprising in its own right: compared to older voters, young voters are not generally thought to support candidates with authoritarian inclinations. The evidence suggests this may be changing.

Digging deeper, we can examine how generational differences interact with gender in terms of support for Prabowo. Again, what we observe on the right-hand panel of Figure 3 is that older men and women are equally as likely to support Prabowo—there are no gender differences. But the left-hand panel shows a stark gender divide: young men are much more likely to support Prabowo than young women.

The advantage of the high-frequency nature of the SIKAP data is that we can pinpoint the moment at which this gender gap emerges: until the first week of January, young men and women were equally as likely to support Prabowo. But early in the new year, support for Prabowo among young women dropped and support among young men increased—perhaps as a consequence of the 7 January televised presidential debate.

How to access

We welcome researchers, journalists, and other members of the public to access and analyse our data for their research. Our data is unique in its high-frequency nature and as such offers insights difficult to obtain by analysing other datasets. At the same time, we want to make a disclaimer that we are not responsible for inferences drawn by other researchers using our data.

Interested researchers may access the data from our websites nicholaskuipers.com or nathanael.id. For accountability purposes we would like to understand who accesses our data, so prospective users need to fill in a short form and enter their emails. The link to download the data will then be sent to this email.

As the first batch, we are releasing Wave 1 to Wave 11. We will release more waves as the data become available. We are hoping that this simple exercise will help create a path toward greater data sharing and data openness practices in Indonesia.

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According to all credible quick counts, Prabowo Subianto will be the next president of Indonesia. He and his running mate, President Joko Widodo’s son Gibran Rakabuming Raka, won the three-way race with a convincing 58% of the votes, easily clearing the 50% threshold required to win in a single round.

The losing candidates, former Jakarta governor Anies Baswedan and former Central Java governor Ganjar Pranowo, may challenge these results in the Constitutional Court, and some protest from civil society groups is expected. But it is unlikely that the outcome will change given the large margin of victory and because there is little evidence to suggest outright vote rigging. Instead, intervention in the process came before the election, when President Widodo (Jokowi) unabashedly mobilised social assistance funds and the bureaucratic apparatus to guarantee a quick victory for his former foe and, most importantly, to put his son in the vice-presidential office.

From strong man to statesman

Prabowo is a relic of Indonesia’s authoritarian past with a blotted human rights record. But he has proved to be a persistently popular political figure. He came within striking distance of the presidency in 2014 and 2019, using both ultranationalist and Islamist appeals. Both times, he managed to secure around 45% of the vote thanks in part to a committed core of supporters.

After losing again to Jokowi in 2019, many thought Prabowo had reached the twilight of his political career. But in a surprising move, Jokowi appointed him to the strategic post of defence minister. This arrangement not only neutralised Prabowo as an opposition figure, but also gave the aging strongman a chance to rehabilitate his image.

Over the past four years Prabowo transformed his public persona from that of a political troublemaker to a mature statesman. His term as defence minister signalled to both domestic and international audiences that he was fit for high office, and that he could put personal ambition to the side in service of his country and his once bitter rival.

After Prabowo, now 72, declared he would contest the presidency again in 2024, he began to campaign with a message of continuity. Not only would the ‘new’ Prabowo maintain Jokowi’s economic policies, but he also cut a calmer, more considered and inclusive figure. Prabowo went farther to boost his popularity among young voters, the under-40s who  comprise more than half of the electorate, through a carefully curated social media campaign that recast his macho image as an endearing old man.

Presidential desire meets post-presidential ambition

On its own, Prabowo’s image rehabilitation strategy proved effective and gave him a small lead over the other two, much younger candidates, Anies (54) and Ganjar (55). But in order to win, he needed to expand support beyond his loyal base—and it was his former foe that provided the tools to do so.

Once heralded as a new hope for democratic Indonesia, over the course of his second term Jokowi had become increasingly authoritarian and concerned with securing  post-presidential influence and legacy. Around the Covid-19 crisis, he first tried to extend his time in office beyond the constitutionally permitted two terms, and then to delay the elections. Both schemes were thwarted by the leader of his own party, PDIP’s chairperson Megawati Soekarnoputri. Long irked by Jokowi’s refusal to comply with party directives, she was determined to field a more obedient candidate in 2024.

Jokowi’s ambition found an unlikely ally in his former rival. Prabowo needed the endorsement of the popular incumbent to boost his electability; Jokowi wanted his eldest son, Gibran, on Prabowo’s ticket to retain power after leaving the presidential palace.

But Gibran was barred from running because the 2017 Election Law set a minimum age of 40 to appear on the presidential ballot. In a shocking move, the Constitutional Court, headed by Jokowi’s brother in law, created a legal loophole that cleared the way for the 36 year old to run on Prabowo’s ticket.

Analysts and activists alike believed this brazen act of nepotism would prompt a backlash; but Jokowi’s popularity continued to hover above 75 percent. In a country where provincial and municipal governments are littered with dynastic figures, most voters remained unconcerned about Gibran’s sudden entry into the presidential race. Jokowi’s popularity also made the two rival candidates wary of attacking him for bending the law to favour his son.

With Gibran by his side, Prabowo’s poll ratings soared from 37 percent in October to 47 percent in December 2023. This lead in the polls would, according to opinion surveys, be enough for the pair come first in the initial electoral round, and to then win a runoff election with a comfortable lead of almost 30 points against either of the two rivals. But with his son on the ticket, the stakes were too high for Jokowi to leave anything to chance.

No holds barred for a quick win

The campaign for a swift victory involved unprecedented intervention on the part of the outgoing president. First, Jokowi flaunted established norms of neutrality for a sitting Indonesian president and insisted on his right to take sides in the election. He repeatedly and publicly demonstrated his support for Prabowo and his son, sending clear and effective signals to the electorate. This endorsement boosted their lead in the polls.

Second, the president used his control over state institutions to drum up support in sympathetic quarters and depress votes for rivals. The main battle grounds were Central and East Java, and the target of this strategy was Ganjar, presidential nominee of PDI-P. It is the party to which Jokowi belongs but with whom he split in order to put Gibran on Prabowo’s ticket.

These areas were flooded with social welfare assistance. To dispense this unplanned aid, government ministers scraped funds from other programmed activities. Shedding any pretence of neutrality, Jokowi himself went to these regions and personally handed out food aid to potential voters. As this social assistance flowed, Prabowo’s popularity ticked up closer and closer to 50 percent.

Alongside these carrots, Jokowi also deployed sticks. In the lead up to election day, Indonesian lawyers and journalists documented how local bureaucrats and regional executives in parts of Java were threatened with corruption investigations and pressured by law enforcement to get out the vote for Prabowo and Gibran.

Some district and village heads in competitive areas suddenly found themselves being investigated for misuse of public funds but charges disappeared when they showed up to campaign for the pair. Others were told that release of social welfare assistance would be contingent on delivering votes for Prabowo–Gibran. To be sure, PDI-P countered this campaign using its own resources as well as its loyal regional and village heads. But this was no match for the state resources that Jokowi could mobilise.

It is difficult to say with certainty whether or to what extent these sorts of tactics had a significant impact on the final result. Regardless, the leveraging of incumbency in this way sets a dangerous electoral precedent.

All credible polls showed that Prabowo and Gibran had the popular support to win the presidency in a two-round race. They ran a far more sophisticated campaign than their rivals, and successfully courted young voters. Backed by most of the country’s major oligarchs and tycoons, their campaign team was awash with funds. They also had explicit endorsements from Indonesia’s largest Muslim mass organisation, Nahdlatul Ulama.

Much to the dismay of those concerned about Prabowo’s violent past, it was looking like an unstoppable campaign. But Jokowi’s impatience with the democratic process has undermined one the most durable feature of Indonesia’s democracy: electoral competition.

A stress test for Indonesia’s democracy

Over the past decade, numerous scholars and activists have raised serious concerns about democratic regression in Indonesia, which is occurring in line with global trends. The lack of democratic opposition, the dominance of oligarchic power, vote buying, and worsening human rights conditions have contributed to this decline in democratic quality. But there was a general consensus that Indonesia’s elections remained competitive.

Partisan behaviour of state officials is observed with some regularity in Indonesian elections. But the centralised nature of intervention in 2024, its scale and the brazenness with which it was done, is unprecedented in Indonesia’s brief democratic history. It is more reminiscent of elections under Suharto’s rule, when state machinery was routinely cranked to ensure a victory for the regime-backed party, Golkar.

Political parties in rival coalitions are indeed crying foul. But these same parties served in Jokowi’s parliamentary coalition over the past ten years and actively supported his attempts to dismantle checks on executive power. They agreed to stripping the anti-corruption body of its independence, packed top courts with sympathetic judges, and passed laws that criminalise dissent.

A Prabowo presidency was once considered a serious threat to Indonesia’s democratic institutions, and Jokowi was viewed as the antidote. But Prabowo now inherits a democracy far weaker than the one he sought to rule ten years ago. It is not clear whether Prabowo will choose to keep Jokowi’s influence in his government or isolate him in order to draw aggrieved parties into his camp. What is clear, however, is that without principled opposition in parliament to hold the new president accountable, Indonesia democracy will continue its downward trajectory.

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Most domestic and international commentary on Indonesia’s 14 February elections has focused on the presidential race. But on the same day, Indonesians will also vote for legislators at district, provincial and national levels. Almost 10,000 candidates will compete for the national legislature alone, in what will be the country’s sixth legislative election since the collapse of Suharto’s authoritarian regime in 1998.

Legislative elections are a vibrant affair in Indonesia. The streets are plastered with campaign posters months in advance of voting day, candidates hold gruelling rounds of public events, and they develop sophisticated social media campaigns. Most candidates and their (often very large) campaign teams also invest huge financial resources into distributing patronage, handing out everything from rice and cooking oil, to clothing and cash.

Voter turnout is relatively high in Indonesia compared to the regional and OECD averages, and Indonesians express strong and consistent support for their democratic system and legislative elections. At the same time, the average voter is sceptical about political parties and about the national legislature too: when polled, Indonesians regularly place parties and the national parliament, the DPR (Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat/People’s Representaive Council) at the bottom of a list of institutions they trust. (The military and the president usually come out on top.)

So what do Indonesian voters believe their legislators should be doing, and what kind of parliament do they really want?

As part of a broader project on political representation in Indonesia, we conducted a nationally representative survey in June 2023 that measured how Indonesians perceive democratic representation, and how they feel about the composition of the parliament, whether it represents ordinary Indonesians, and the work that legislators do. The survey interviewed 1,200 respondents face to face, with a +/-2.9% margin of error.

The results were striking: most Indonesians express strong support for a more equitable parliament, and for legislative work that focuses on programmatic policies over particularistic projects. Here we offer a brief snapshot of some of our findings.

Do voters feel their legislature is broadly representative?

We began by asking respondents about the extent to which they feel elections are able to produce a parliament that reflects voters’ views and interests. Indonesians were divided: around 47% felt the parliament is broadly reflective of voters’ interests, and 45% disagreed (see Figure 1 below).

Figure 1: Does the DPR reflect voters’ views and interests?

When we dug deeper into the data, we found that class indicators, and in particular education, were correlated with a negative view of the DPR’s ability to reflect voters’ interests. For example, almost 60% of university educated Indonesians, and over 65% percent of Indonesians in the top income bracket (i.e. over 4 million rupiah/A$400 per month) felt the parliament was not playing its representative role.

Ironically, most legislators have a background akin to those who are more likely to criticise them, i.e. they are more likely to be well educated, wealthy and from an urban area. As political campaigns have become more expensive in Indonesia, upper class candidates have come to enjoy a strong electoral advantage. Yet it seems lower classes citizens are more likely to feel parliament broadly reflects voters’ interests.

One potential explanation is that elected politicians tend to cater to the needs of lower class voters. In general, legislators’ relationships with constituents develop through the provision of goods and services (food, cash, access to hospital beds and to other services), often on a highly personal basis. Lower class citizens need this sort of assistance more than upper class Indonesians, who are less dependent on legislators to act as brokers in their dealings with the state. In turn, upper and middle class voters interact far less with legislators, either during or between campaign periods.

What do voters think legislators should be doing?

We then asked respondents what they believe are legislators’ two most important tasks. Each of the options were designed to reflect distinct ways voters might conceive of representation. Options #1 and #3 in Figure 2 (below) capture the notion that representatives should work above all to meet constituents’ concrete needs. We expect this to be a popular choice, because it reflects the clientelistic relationships that we know DPR members develop with their constituents in Indonesia. Options #2 and #4 capture a programmatic or policy-oriented understanding of legislative function and, in turn, representation.

Figure 2: What are legislators’ primary tasks? (Choose up to two)

Again the answers were varied, with respondents divided between seeing DPR members’ most important task as arranging government assistance for constituents, or seeing their primary role as encouraging policies and regulations for the welfare for the citizenry more broadly. Around a third of participants viewed development projects as representatives’ primary tasks, and a similar number believed  their elected representatives should be delivering on parties’ programmatic promises.

What should the DPR look like?

What about the composition of the DPR? Do Indonesians feel that Indonesia’s key social groups are adequately reflected in the makeup of national parliament?

This question speaks to scholarly work that examines support for descriptive representation: the idea that voters want to be represented by members of their own group, whether that be based on gender, ethnicity, religion, class or some other identity category. Applied to the country as a whole, it suggests that the legislature should comprise a mix of individuals from such groups that mirrors the composition of the broader community: as a representative body, it should “look like” the country it represents. The logic is that political representatives who are themselves from a specific group will best advocate for that groups’ rights, interests and needs.

Our survey asked Indonesians a series of questions to gauge how important this form of representation is to them, and whether they wanted a DPR that looked different along descriptive lines.  We asked them to agree or disagree to the following statements:

1. In the DPR, only members of the lower to middle class (such as farmers or laborers) are able to effectively represent the views and interests of the lower middle class.
2. In the DPR, only female legislators are able to effectively represent the views and interests of women.
3. In the DPR, only legislators who are religious minorities (Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, Confucians) are able to effectively represent the views and interests of minority religious group.

Figure 3: Descriptive representation

The results are striking: Indonesians overwhelmingly support the descriptive representation of class interests, which is noteworthy given that (as mentioned above) Indonesia’s national legislature  consists of almost entirely upper class individuals whose occupational backgrounds are increasingly concentrated in the private sector.

The idea that only women can truly represent women also received strong support. When it came to religious minorities the responses were more divided, suggesting an ambivalence within Indonesia’s majority Muslim population toward to the idea that non-Muslims’ needs are best met through political representation.

As a follow up, we then asked whether respondents thought the number of legislators from these groups needed to be increased. The results again show very strong support for increasing the number of lower to middle class people in national parliament, with over 80% in favour, and for increasing women’s representation too. There is far less support for increasing the non-Muslim presence in parliament.

Figure 4: Increasing descriptive representation

Conclusion

Our survey suggets many Indonesians share a desire for a more egalitarian parliament, where lower class citizens and women are better represented. Indonesians also believe legislators should first and foremost be developing policies and regulations that serve the welfare of the population more broadly (although patronage-centred understandings of representation also have wide support).

This public atttitude contrasts with Indonesia’s current reality. Most legislators are wealthy, and many come to politics after a career in business, and use their political influence to further their financial interests. The rising cost of politics means such candidates have an electoral advantage, as do incumbents who can use government programs and parliamentary funds to support their campaigns. Despite potential underlying demand for change, there are few opportunities for this ‘supply side’ constraint to shift in the near future: barriers to entry for independent candidates are high, and political parties continue to seek well-resourced candidates who can underwrite their own campaigns.

And while our survey finds support for women’s representation, female candidates are less likely to have the economic resources needed to compete, and they face considerable headway from patriarchal attitudes holding that men are better suited to public leadership roles. Still, this unmet public desire for a different kind of legislature—one that includes a wider spectrum of people and interests—is significant and potentially more pervasive than either scholars or politicians have understood.

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Numerous business figures are occupying pivotal roles in each Indonesian presidential candidate’s campaign teams. Arsjad Rasjid, the chairman of the Indonesian Chamber of Commerce, or KADIN—Indonesia’s largest and most influential business association—is leading Ganjar Pranowo’s campaign. Rosan Roeslani, a businessman and former Indonesian ambassador to the United States, heads Prabowo’s team. Thomas (Tom) Lembong, a businessman and former minister of trade during President Jokowi’s first term, is key member of Anies Baswedan’s team.

The participation of business leaders in politics is not a new phenomenon. Previously, figures like Jusuf Kalla, Surya Paloh, and Hasyim Djoyohadikusomo have been key players in political parties—in the case of these men, inGolkar, Nasdem, and Gerindra respectively. The notable difference in the current scenario is that Arsjad, Rosan, and Tom are not affiliated with any political party; they are independent businessmen with stakes in publicly listed companies. Other younger business figures like Erick Thohir and Sandiaga Uno are involved with PAN and PPP respectively, but their participation is mostly behind closed doors, rather than as visible, active members. Both seem limit the display of their involvement with the parties.

Conducting business in Indonesia often necessitates active engagement with the government, with support from executive authorities being a crucial factor. Poor relations with the regime can impede business operations—as evidenced by Prabowo Subianto’s admission in a 2023 interview that his business stagnated due to limited access to executive power, possibly exacerbated by his years in opposition. Similarly, Surya Paloh’s business faced regulatory challenges under Jokowi’s administration after his Nasdem Party pledged support for Anies Baswedan’s presidential candidacy.

In separate interviews for my research conducted in Jakarta during 2018–19, one businessman in the mining explosive services sector mentioned that the government took over a major contract of his in favor of state-owned enterprises (SOEs) because the government saw the business group he belonged to as being a part of the previous government of Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono. Another entrepreneur in environmental and waste management revealed that his company was blocked from securing contracts with SOEs, as other private business groups with closer government ties were preferred.

Political parties often serve as a means for businessmen like Surya Paloh and Prabowo to renegotiate their relationships with the regime, benefiting their enterprises. Businessmen outside political party structures also engage in donations to political parties for political connections and assurances.

More recently, however political parties are not the only avenue for building these connections.  Businessmen without direct party affiliations are increasingly comfortable participating in electoral politics. The perceived risks to their businesses if their supported candidates lose seems minimal, even without the backing of political parties. What enables this scenario?

My research has suggested that the risks for businessmen engaging in electoral politics are minimal for two reasons. Firstly, increasingly influential organisations outside formal political institutions have become new vehicles for political lobbying. Some of these organisations have gained considerable political power over the last decade.

Secondly, the strategic distribution of corporate equity and appointment of board and management has become an important way for business figures to manage political risks. My research illustrates how ownership of politically-exposed companies has been diversified among multiple businessmen and politicians, highlighting the evolving landscape of business–politics interplay in Indonesia.

It is important to note that for politicians, involving businesspeople in their campaign teams can also offer valuable benefits, such as access to capital and enhanced managerial efficiency. Businesspeople are often skilled managers and adept problem-solvers, qualities that can significantly contribute to the effectiveness of a political campaign. It’s important to recognise that the relationships between businessmen and politicians are multifaceted and not solely defined by financial and monetary interests.

KADIN and HIPMI as political tools

Business–politician connections are increasingly being established through social platforms such as alumni associations of universities and schools, religious groups, professional bodies, and business associations.

Two notable organisations that facilitate these connections are the Indonesia Chamber of Commerce (KADIN) and the Indonesia Youth Entrepreneur Association (HIPMI).

The current chairman of KADIN, Arsjad Rasjid, is on a leave of absence to lead Ganjar’s campaign. Roesan Roslani, a former KADIN chairman, leads Prabowo’s campaign. Bahlil Lahadalia, the minister of investment and a key figure in Prabowo’s campaign, previously chaired HIPMI. Sandiaga Uno, also a former chairman of HIPMI (2005–08), plays a notable role in political circles. The current chairman of HIPMI, Ackbar Himawan Buchari, is actively backing the Prabowo-Gibran campaign.

In contrast, Anies Baswedan’s team does not feature significant figures from KADIN or HIPMI, though, Novita Dewi, the campaign’s secretary general, was once an active member of HIPMI. A member of HIPMI in Surabaya stated in an interview with me that “it’s important for us to maintain a harmonious relationship with the government. President Jokowi leans towards supporting Prabowo, but the president appears to be accepting of limited support for Ganjar.”

My sources have also mentioned that KADIN and HIPMI, which both have strong ties to Jokowi’s government, are discreetly contributing to Anies’ team to avoid conflicts with the current administration, as Anies is perceived as an opponent to Jokowi’s regime.

KADIN and HIPMI have become vital networking hubs for businessmen seeking political support. These organisations maintain ongoing communication with key governmental departments such as the Ministry of Investment, the Coordinating Ministry of Economic Affairs, the Coordinating Ministry of Investment and Maritime Affairs, and even with police and military establishments. These communications are important to secure supports such as permits, licenses, and access to government projects.

Members of HIPMI and KADIN often have affiliations with political parties as well. While these organisations are not the only avenues for businessmen to secure political support outside of political parties, they stand out due to their institutional strength and significant political influence.

Ownership diversification and well-connected executives

In the realm of business and politics, the intertweaving of ventures and ownership has created a robust network of trust and relationships. This is evident in various instances where business ownerships are shared between businessmen and politicians, or those who hold dual political and corporate roles.

These collaborations are often facilitated through two methods of corporate actions. The primary method includes share transactions and acquisitions, where one company acquires or purchases shares of another. The second method involves appointing commissioners or executives with strong political connections.

A notable example of the first method occurred in 2018, ahead of the 2019 election. At that time, Saratoga Capital, owned by Sandiaga Uno, Prabowo Subianto’s running mate, sold its shares to Luhut Pandjaitan’s firm Toba for US$9 million. Luhut was a supporter of Jokowi’s reelection. This transaction, while legal, highlighted the strategic distribution of shares during politically sensitive times.

Another example of complex ownership structures is PT Adaro, one of Indonesia’s largest coal producers. It is partly owned by Garibaldi Thohir and by Saratoga Capital, linked to Sandiaga Uno. The intricate ownership network provided a safety net for the involved businessmen during the 2019 election, where Sandiaga and Erick Thohir (Garibaldi’s brother) were found on opposing sides.

The coal and mining sector presents some of the most illustrative examples of complex ownership structures. A report by Project Multatuli reveals how ownership is distributed among groups that, despite having diverse political affiliations, share common commercial interests.

The second method, appointing well-connected commissioners or executives, is exemplified by Rukun Rahardja, company owned by Happy Hapsoro, the husband of senior PDI-P figure Puan Maharani and a PDI-P financier, is supporting Ganjar Pranowo in the presidential election. His company has commissioners like Arsjad Rasjid and Rachmat Gobel, a Nasdem politician supporting Anies Baswedan. The unique aspect here is that the company’s stakeholders are active politicians supporting different presidential candidates.

Beside commissioners, an example of an executive position linking politically opposed business figures is Justarina Sinta Marisi Naiborhu, once an executive at Luhut’s Toba and a family member Luhut, who moved to a senior position at Kalimantan Industrial Park Indonesia (KIPI), a significant green industrial park project owned by Garibaldi Thohir. Justarina, it seems, is not only a good manager, but also well-connected with key politicians.

It’s worth noting that family members are not typically the preferred choice of politicians for executive roles in private corporations. Instead, politicians often recommend individuals for executive positions based on trust established through various previous interactions and engagements.

Having a trusted individual at the executive level benefits politicians by allowing them to influence corporate decisions, such as vendor selection and procurement. For businessmen, employing well-connected executives aids in navigating the complexities of permitting and licensing procedures that often are as political as they are technical.

Executives with both political connections and managerial skills are rare, as not many individuals possess both these competencies. Figures like Sandiaga Uno, Rosan Roslani, Arsjad Rasjid, and Tom Lembong are part of a select group who excel in managerial skills while also maintaining political connections.

The primary function of well-connected executives and commissioners is to serve as a bridge between political and business interests. They play a crucial role in maintaining open channels of communication and fostering relationships within the corporate sphere, independent of formal political institutions.

Conclusion

For risk-averse businessmen, involvement in electoral politics is often viewed as a high-risk endeavor. Traditionally, they have relied on their position within political parties to mitigate these risks.

However, in recent times, robust institutions like KADIN and HIPMI, along with strategies such as diversifying ownership and employing specific corporate recruitment tactics, have emerged as alternative means for securing political assurance in both the business and political realms.

Businessmen can used either or both of the above strategies, making sure to make deals with the right actors within HIPMI and KADIN, and/or making transactions with the right politicians in asset diversification.

These approaches facilitate the development of connections and relationships within the political sphere, enabling businesspeople to participate in political activities with a degree of independence from traditional political party structures.

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On 29 January, the Indonesia Institute at the Australian National University hosted an online roundtable featuring ANU-based scholars to discuss the outlook for Indonesia’s 2024 presidential and legislative elections. Moderated by the Institute’s chair Dr Eve Warburton, speakers canvassed the state of the race, the issues of democratic quality and policymaking that are at stake in the conduct and outcome of the elections.

About the speakers

Greg Fealy is an Emeritus Professor at ANU. He is a scholar of Indonesian politics and history, who specialises in Islam. He has written extensively on the politics and culture of major Islamic parties and organisations such as Nahdlatul Ulama, PKS and Hizbut Tahrir, as well as jihadist groups.

Navhat (Nava) Nuraniyah is a PhD scholar at the Department of Political and Social Change, ANU. Her research focuses on how Islamist opposition movements respond to political repression in Indonesia.

Fakhridho Susrahadiansyah Bagus Pratama Susilo (Fakhridho Susilo) is a research associate of KiPHRAH. He holds a PhD in Policy and Governance from the Crawford School of Public Policy, the Australian National University. He is the recipient of the 2022–2023 Fox International Fellowship at Yale University, Macmillan Center for International and Area Studies.

[Moderator] Eve Warburton is a senior lecturer at the Department of Political and Social Change in the Coral Bell School of Asia Pacific Affairs. She is also Director of the ANU Indonesia Institute.

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At the 2019 presidential election, Indonesia’s Islamist groups were at the peak of their influence. They banded together with Joko Widodo’s then rival, Prabowo Subianto, to orchestrate one of the most polarising presidential campaigns in Indonesia’s history. Though they have been battered by government repression since Widodo’s reelection in 2019, Islamist groups are now regrouping behind Anies Baswedan and Muhaimin Iskandar in the 2024 presidential race.

In the course of my doctoral research into Indonesia’s Islamist opposition movements in the Jokowi years, I have been following Islamist activists, both virtually and on the ground, as they campaign on behalf of Anies and Muhamin’s candidacy. I have been struck by how much more timid these Islamist groups’ campaign rhetoric is compared with 2019. Gone are the days when their volunteers would go around from house to house to spread internet-sourced propaganda accusing their political rival of being a Chinese communist agent who was bent on abolishing Islam from public life and was conspiring to assassinate Muslim leaders—things they said about Jokowi in 2019. They no longer describe the election in apocalyptic terms, where one candidate is portrayed as an evil force while the other is hailed as the saviour that could salvage Indonesia from impending doom.

Instead, Islamist activists in Anies’ team and from affiliated volunteer groups have chosen to emphasise his commitment to what they call “ethical politics” (an Islamist euphemism for governance based in Islamic morality), his concrete achievements as governor of Jakarta between 2017 and 2022, and his promise to restore the freedoms and justice that have been eroded under Jokowi. Islamists’ campaign style, in other words, has shifted from being one characterised by passionate ideological agitation to a more level-headed programmatic style, reflecting the overall decline in ideological polarisation during Jokowi’s second term.

But does that mean that Islamists have abandoned their ideological beliefs and goals, or does it simply reflect political expediency? I argue that Indonesian Islamists’ rhetorical moderation is primarily an adaptation to the three key political realities of the late Jokowi years.

Firstly, state repression has made Islamists cautious about embracing overtly sectarian campaigning. Secondly, with Islamists having aligned behind the candidacy of the Anies and Muhaimin, and keeping their options open with a reconciliation with Prabowo Subianto in a potential second round of the presidential election, they have sought not to alienate pluralist Muslim voters linked to traditionalist groups like NU.

Third, unlike in the aftermath of the mass mobilisations against the alleged blasphemy of former Jakarta governor Basuki Tjahaja Purnama, there isn’t a religiously-charged issue around which a dynamic of polarisation can arise. The issues of Rohingya and Israel–Palestine conflict have featured in the 2024 campaign, but these issues do not divide Indonesians neatly along Islamic–nationalist lines, and offer only limited potential for the reactivation of ideological passions in the short term.

De-risking religious rhetoric

I limit my analysis to non-violent Islamist groups such as FPI—relaunched, after the ban of the Front Pembela Islam/Islamic Defenders’ front in 2020, as the Front Persaudaraan Islam/Islamic Brotherhood Front—and the self-styled “Alumni” of the 212 movement activists that led the protests against former Jakarta governor Basuki Tjahaja Purnama in 2016–17. These groups share relatively moderate goals and methods compared to jihadist extremists. They pursue an Islamisation of society and the state not via revolution but through gradualist tactics like proselytisation, education, social services, advocacy, and political participation. They will enthusiastically drum up intolerant sectarian sentiments (which they genuinely hold) when it benefits them, but remain ready to tone it down when their survival is at stake. For this community of non-jihadist Islamists, the goal is to win power first, then work on the religio-political reform later.

In 2024 as in 2019, direct engagement in electoral politics is part and parcel of this strategy. On 27 September 2023, Anies and Muhaimin visited the FPI leader Rizieq Shihab, as if to secure his blessing, just before they officially registered their candidacy. Once Anies’ candidacy was confirmed, he recruited Yusuf Martak, a close confidant of Rizieq, as one of the co-chairs of his success team.

Islamists have made it clear that they are not giving a blank cheque to Anies. In exchange for their support, they required Anies and Muhaimin to sign a 13-point “Integrity Pact” which, among other things, affirmed the candidates’ commitment to back the Islamist agenda of combatting secularism, communism, and religious blasphemy (for them, a code word for the perceived growth in the power and “arrogance” of Indonesia’s Christian minority). The agreement also stipulated that Anies and Muhaimin would enforce public morality based on Islamic norms and improve ordinary people’s economic circumstances by stopping a purported inflow of mainland Chinese workers.

Following the same formula as in 2019, in November 2023 FPI and its affiliates organised a Conference of Religious Scholars (Ijtima Ulama) in order to give their choice of candidate the stamp of religious authority. The 2023 Ijtima resulted in a religious recommendation by “Grand Imam” Rizieq Shihab to vote for Anies and his running mate Muhaimin. The idea is to leverage the grassroots network of FPI and the Brotherhood of 212 Alumni (Persaudaraan Alumni 212, or PA212) to organise campaign activities and the distribution of campaign materials in support of Anies. As of late 2023, the resurrected FPI boasted branches in 23 out of 38 provinces, while formal PA212 structures have been established in all districts in the 10 most populous provinces; both sped up their expansion of local branches with a view to mobilising voters for the 2024 election. That said, it is unclear how many members either organisation actually has—local FPI activists often double up as PA212 executives.

Although the “Integrity Pact” between FPI and the Anies campaign and the Ijtima Ulama’s endorsement of Anies exhibit some of the sectarian and xenophobic tone that characterised Islamist activism in the 2019 election, my on-the-ground observation of FPI-linked campaign events suggests they have cooled down their divisive religious narratives for 2024.

A typical campaign in Central Java, for instance, would attract between 50 to a few hundred people, though the number might be higher in FPI strongholds such as Banten and Greater Jakarta. Many such campaign events that I observed were simple (held in mosques, Islamic pesantren boarding schools, or other free venues) and mostly funded by volunteers and donations from local candidates seeking to win the sympathy of Islamist constituencies. Attendees at these events receive free T-shirts, posters, mugs and other merchandise, but I have not witnessed any exchange of monetary gifts (as has been reported in other candidates’ campaigns). This is not surprising given Anies has reported the lowest amount of campaign funds among the three presidential candidates.

What was more striking to me was the relative lack of religious zeal and apocalyptic narratives that were ubiquitous in 2019. Speaking at a pro-Anies volunteers meeting in Solo on 9 January, the secretary general of PA212 Uus Solihuddin told the volunteers to de-emphasise lofty ideology and focus more on concrete programmatic policies. Whereas in the 2017 Jakarta gubernatorial election Islamist leaders relied on intimidation and fear-mongering to coerce Muslims to vote for Anies (such as threatening to not perform funeral prayers for recently deceased Muslims who supported “infidel” candidates), Islamists are now carefully avoiding any statements that can be construed as smear campaign, misinformation or sectarian incitement. As PA212’s secretary-general instructed the assembled volunteers,

Stay clear of black campaigns! Focus on promoting the vision and mission of Amin (Anies and Muhaimin), make it viral by using plain, easily accessible language. Don’t talk about lofty ideas. Just talk about cheap groceries (sembako). Because let’s face it, most Indonesian people are not at that [intellectual] level yet. Engage the people by saying things like: do you want better healthcare? Do you want cheap electricity? Do you want a driver’s license that applies for a lifetime—no need to renew it every five years? Then you can reinforce the message by telling them that these are the recommendations of our ulama who have signed an agreement with Anies.

The caution around “black campaigns” reflects Islamists’ fear of persecution and arrest, a critical factor that explains the shift away from sectarian narratives. (Alfian Tanjung, another Islamist cleric who was present at the meeting in Solo described here, had been imprisoned from 2017 to 2020 after being convicted of criminal defamation for calling Jokowi and PDI–P “lackeys” of the Indonesian Communist Party/PKI).

SAFEnet, an NGO that advocates for freedom of online expression, reported in 2022 that the arrest of opposition activists under Indonesia’s Electronic Information and Transactions Law (UU ITE) has increased by 26%; most were charges with defaming  state officials and institutions. Islamists are arguably the most targeted category of all opposition activists. The fact that Rizieq Shihab is on parole until June 2024, following his release from prison in July 2022, is a living reminder of the great risks they are facing: as one activist put it, “any tiny mistake could send Habib Rizieq back to prison, that’s why we need to be careful.”

Yusuf Martak similarly told a group of pro-Anies volunteers in Klaten and Solo that they should emphasise his concrete achievements in combating social ills in Jakarta, such as closing down a major brothel and a restaurant chain that gave free promotional beers to anyone named Muhammad. It was suggested that promoting his accomplishments in public morality and infrastructure development would be more effective and less risky than invoking overtly Islamist jargon (e.g. “infidels”, “shari’a”) that are closely associated with radicalism.

Maintaining moderate support

Last but not least, Islamists felt compelled to tone down their religious zeal in order to appease the moderate, traditionalist Muslim base of Anies’ running mate, Muhaimin Iskandar.

Islamists were initially disappointed by the appointment of Muhaimin as Anies’ running mate because of his pluralist Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) background, his implication in historical corruption cases, and his attendance at a 2023 Coldplay concert in Jakarta that was protested by FPI on the grounds that the band has shown support for LGBT people. Yet once Rizieq Shihab issued the instruction for the FPI rank and file to support Anies, they fell into line.

Many within Muhaimin’s NU milieu perceive Anies as a “Wahhabi”—a reference to the ultrapuritan brand of Sunni Islam associated with Saudi Arabia, which has become a slur among Muslim moderates in Indonesia—due to his modernist background and close relationship with the Islamist Prosperous Justice Party (Partai Keadilan Sejahtera/PKS). This is in the context of an internal rift within NU: the organisation’s chairman Yahya Cholil Staquf and most of its national board have sided with Prabowo, while influential NU kyai (traditionalist religious leaders), including NU’s former chair Said Aqil Siradj, have backed Muhaimin and his party PKB. In East Java, a number of kyai from Yahya’s camp exhorted their followers to not vote for Anies, saying that he secretly conspired with the banned transnational organisation Hizbut Tahrir and FPI to replace the Indonesian republic with a caliphate.

To allay those suspicions, FPI and the 212 activists have included references to “the preservation of the Unitary Republic of Indonesia (NKRI) and Pancasila” in their Integrity Pact with Anies. In fact, FPI and PA212 have followed a trend set recently by government agencies and NU institutions of beginning their formal gatherings by singing the national anthem.

Islamists are also calibrating their campaigning with a view to the possibility of reconciling with Prabowo Subianto, with some leading figures in FPI and PA212 already planning to shift allegiance to Prabowo should Anies fail to enter the second round. As one senior activist from FPI put it:

We are now campaigning for Anies, yes. But we shouldn’t attack the other side overzealously. I don’t think it’s right to throw a smear campaign at Prabowo. After all, he and [his party] Gerindra have done a lot for us. Anies promised us lots of things, but in the end he gave more money and positions to NU. Despite Prabowo’s betrayal, it was Gerindra politicians who defended us, gave us legal assistance when our members got criminalised. Gerindra advocated for the KM50 cause [the police shootings of 6 FPI members in 2020] in parliament. So we shouldn’t offend Prabowo too much, he’s our best option if there is a second round.

Palestine and Rohingya offer limited scope for polarisation

Anti-Rohingya incitement has intensified on social media since late 2023. One video that went viral on Tiktok purported to show how Rohingya asylum seekers in Aceh threw away food that had been donated to them by local villagers. Another alleged that Rohingya asylum seekers in Malaysia had demanded land, warning viewers that they might want to take over local people’s land in Aceh too. This online incitement culminated in an incident in which hundreds of university students in Aceh raided a refugee shelter and forced the Rohingya to leave. Rights activists and social media experts contended that the online hate speech was too systematic to be organic; the newspaper Koran Tempo quoted a source who stated that some elements within state security forces hired the student mob in order to sow crisis.

Some Islamist groups believe that a backlash against Rohingya asylum seekers has been engineered to discredit Islamists, who had long conducted humanitarian fundraising for Rohingya victims of ethnic cleansing in Myanmar. The online content that has framed Rohingya as lesser Muslims with sinful habits was therefore like a slap in the face to Islamists.

While it remains mysterious how the anti-Rohingya campaign came about, or who was behind it, the issue has become a point of contention between the presidential candidates. Anies has struck a sympathetic note, saying that Indonesians have a humanitarian duty to help Rohingya Muslims who have come asking for protection. Prabowo, on the other hand, has asserted that it is unfair to impose such a burden on Indonesia, and that the United Nations ought to be responsible. Ganjar Pranowo, meanwhile, has given a vague comment that neither accepts nor rejects the asylum seekers.

Some pro-Anies Telegram channels have spread a counter-narrative that the Acehnese student leader who coordinated the attack on Rohingya was a youth member of Prabowo Subianto’s Gerindra party, and that Prabowo has sanctioned the discrimination against one of the world’s most persecuted Muslim minorities. The Rohingya issue has not flared up significantly, with the government swiftly providing an alternative shelter for those displaced by community protests in Aceh.

The Palestine issue has meanwhile become fertile ground not only for Islamists’ electoral campaigning but also for their long-term expansion and recruitment. The issue is also a “safe” one, because the government is more tolerant of Islamist mobilisation on foreign conflicts—especially given Indonesia’s official support for Palestinian freedom—than local ones. In December 2023, for the first time in five years the government allowed FPI to hold the 212 Reunion Rally at Jakarta’s Monas square, on the condition that it was focused on Palestine.

Some Islamist sources told me that when their pro-Anies events were prohibited by PDI-P district and village heads in rural West Java, for instance, they got around the restrictions by conducting a Palestine solidarity roadshow. They said that even some PDI–P strongholds could accept them and were willing to donate money if the clerics focused on the plight of Palestine and offering religious counselling to the villagers. Many lay PDI-P sympathisers volunteered their phone numbers to Islamist clerics after being told that they could get free online counselling and unlimited supplies of “holy water”, only to find themselves bombarded with Anies campaign materials through WhatsApp. The Palestine issue remains significant for Islamist revival beyond the election, having wide appeal that cuts across partisan cleavage, and it provides Islamists with ample opportunities for fundraising and outreach to new audiences.

In Indonesia’s outer islands, however, the Israel–Palestine conflict carries more divisive potential. On 25 November 2023, violent clashes broke out between the Muslim Solidarity Front (Barisan Solidaritas Muslim) and a Christian group named Manguni Brigade in Bitung, North Sulawesi. BSM was holding a pro-Palestine rally on the street when they ran into a convoy of Makatana Minahasa Christians who were also on their way to a cultural parade. Some of the Christians carried Israeli flags, which triggering an altercation with BSM that devolved into a brawl that killed one person and injured two others.

In video footage that circulated on social media, several people from Manguni Brigade dressed in traditional war attire were seen chasing BSM members; a number of local Muslims joined another fight that broke out in the city centre later that night. The video footage also showed the Manguni Brigade burning Palestinian flags and destroying an ambulance that belonged to BSM. Islamist online channels quickly spread the videos and talked about jihad against the “Christian Zionists”. Rizieq Shihab also issued a statement demanding that the government punish the Zionist supporters who attacked Muslims in Bitung.

While the local conflict was swiftly managed by local authorities, its effects have lingered and bled into the election. Pro-FPI social media accounts circulated pictures of the Manguni Brigade leader wearing a Prabowo T-shirt; in one picture, he was seen posing with Jokowi with the caption in the version shared by Islamists remarking that “this is the reason Manguni Makasiouw isn’t banned after causing riot in Bitung, likely protected by Jokowi”. Another video showed a big Israeli flag being waved at a PDI–P rally for Ganjar Pranowo. In Central and West Java, some Islamist activists have been preparing to deploy their Laskar (security or paramilitary organisations) to guard polling stations against intimidation and fraud they allege is being planned by the “pr o-Zionist red thugs” (preman merah, a reference to PDI-P’s party colours).

Despite Islamists’ attempts to use the Rohingya and Palestine issues to activate the latent sectarian tensions in Indonesian society, the debate around these issues do not neatly slice the electorate along the Islamist vs pluralist lines. In the case of Israel–Palestine conflict, Indonesians regardless of their religious inclinations are overwhelmingly pro-Palestine. The issue is not as divisive as in the West. The anti-Rohingya issue has to some extent taken on a political turn, with Anies’ Islamist supporters advocating the rights of Rohingya refugees, while Prabowo has cast them as a potential threat to Indonesians’ economic interests. As Prabowo said while visiting Aceh on 24 November 2023: “now let’s say we want to help the Rohingya. How can we help, our own people are short of food. Around 20% of our children are malnourished.”

These two issues are therefore unlikely to cause deepening polarisation. However, the Palestine issue particularly provides a fertile ground for Islamists to revive and expand their appeal (not least because the government tolerates Islamist propaganda on foreign rather than domestic affairs), hence its usefulness will outlast the election.

Conclusion

My observation of the election campaign in urban and rural Java reveals a much calmer picture than the previous presidential race. Unlike in 2019, people did not complain as much about an emotionally draining election, marked by identity politics, that affected their personal relationships with family and friends.

Islamist groups themselves have decided to “cool down” divisive campaign narratives for various strategic reasons—without necessarily abandoning their long-term ideological agenda. This has partly to do with the importance of not alienating the moderate traditionalist Muslims, especially in East Java, that form an important part of the Anies–Muhaimin ticket’s electoral coalition. The stigmatisation of radicalism has also contributed to Islamists’ strategic avoidance of ideological messaging. Indeed, Jokowi’s anti-radicalism policy and counter-polarisation efforts by NU and other pluralist groups have pushed Islamists to the fringe, at least for the time being. Moreover, Islamists have seen that Jokowi’s social assistance programs have contributed to his high approval ratings, fostering a belief that Indonesian people care more about their economic wellbeing than ideology—hence the Islamists’ pivot to bread and butter issues when campaigning for Anies.

Finally, the lowering intensity of ethnoreligious tension and partisanship suggests that post-election riots like those seen in May 2019 are unlikely. However, the violent Christian–Islamist clash in Bitung reminds us that there is potential for isolated local conflicts between supporters of different candidates in the lead up to the election and its aftermath.

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In Indonesia’s 2019 presidential election, the flow of support from Islamic groups to the two presidential tickets was distinctly polarised. Conservatives rallied behind Prabowo Subianto and Sandiaga Uno, whereas Nahdlatul Ulama (NU)—the country’s biggest Islamic organisation, which claims to represent up to 90 million Muslims—unequivocally endorsed Joko Widodo (Jokowi) and Ma’ruf Amin. A growth in partisan polarisation among Indonesian Islamic organisations had been evident since the 2014 presidential election, when many NU followers solidifyied their support for Jokowi. It only grew stronger in 2019, when Maruf Amin, NU’s supreme leader (rais aam), was nominated as Joko Widodo’s running mate.

In contrast, the 2024 presidential election exhibits the opposite trend. Islamic groups’ support for the current presidential candidates are primarily being driven by political opportunism instead of by stark ideological differences.

Our research substantiates observations of a de-polarisation in 2024 through analysis of an original database recording the religious affiliations of each candidate’s national campaign team (tim sukses/“success team”) members. In contrast to the 2019 presidential election, the composition of religious figures represented in each tim sukses during this year’s presidential election reflects how ideological divisions—while they still exist—have weakened considerably.

Islamic support by the numbers

Based on numerous media reports detailing the officially-announced lineup of tim sukses, we are able to map out how different Islamic organisations and their leaders are dividing their loyalties between the 2024 candidates. The Anies Baswedan—Muhaimin Iskandar (branded as AMIN) coalition boasts 49 affiliated Islamic figures, constituting 29% of their total tim sukses members. The Prabowo Subianto–Gibran Rakabuming Raka coalition has 69 Islamic figures, accounting for 27% of their total, while the Ganjar Pranowo–Mahfud MD coalition trails with the lowest percentage at 20%, comprising only 8 Islamic figures.

The absolute number of Islamic figures on the Ganjar–Mahfud team is much lower than the other tickets, because Ganjar’s presidential candidacy is primarily backed by the Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (PDI–P), which also dominates the composition of Ganjar-Mahfud tim sukses. While Ganjar is also supported by one Islamic party, the United Development Party (PPP), there are only a handful of PPP figures among the ranks of his tim sukses, likely because it is a small party which only barely meets the Indonesia’s 4% parliamentary threshold. As Ganjar’s primary political supporter, PDI-P has kept a tight grip on his presidential campaign and has ensured that a majority of his tim sukses come from its own ranks.

By contrast, both AMIN and Prabowo–Gibran coalitions have more Islamic-oriented supporting parties to fill out their tim sukses. AMIN is supported by the National Awakening Party (PKB), which is affiliated with NU, and the Prosperous Justice Party (PKS) which is affiliated with the Muslim Brotherhood-influenced Tarbiyah movement. AMIN’s vice-presidential candidate, PKB Chairman Muhaimin Iskandar, is the great-grandson of the founder of NU Bisri Syansuri, adding to his charismatic appeal among NU figures.

Prabowo and Gibran’s Islamic party support comes from the National Mandate Party (PAN)—which is loosely linked with Muhammadiyah—and the Indonesian People’s Wave Party (Partai Gelora), a new party established by several former PKS leaders.

Religious figures affiliated with NU dominate the list of tim sukses members of Anies and Prabowo. Within AMIN’s coalition, 24 out of 49 members are affiliated with NU, the Prabowo–Gibran coalition claims 18 out of 69 and the Ganjar–Mahfud coalition has 4 out of 8. In stark contrast, the representation of Muhammadiyah, the second largest Islamic organisation in Indonesia, has relatively meagre representation. Only two members of the AMIN and Ganjar–Mahfud campaigns teams are affiliated with Muhammadiyah.

The representation of Islamic figures affiliated by the Tarbiyah movement, the forebear of the Islamist Prosperous Justice Party (PKS), is noteworthy. They comprise 16 members of AMIN’s tim sukses, surpassing those from Muhammadiyah.

From the composition of each respective tim sukses, we can see how traditionalist Islamic groups, (represented by NU) merge with modernist (represented by Muhammadiyah) and conservative Islamist groups (represented by Tarbiyah/PKS). Both AMIN and Prabowo–Gibran coalitions have tim sukses that unite NU and Tarbiyah figures.

Our analysis also reveals that the inclusion of religious figures in the tim sukses is not solely influenced by the support of coalition parties, but also by the personalistic relationships forged between candidates and these religious figures. This dynamic is evident in the diverse support garnered from NU-affiliated figures for various presidential candidates. The AMIN team, for instance, has successfully secured endorsement from numerous NU kyai in Central and East Java provinces on account of the longstanding relationships between these kyai and PKB and—more specifically—Muhaimin.

Many kyai who are backing AMIN are owners of large Islamic boarding schools (pesantren induk) which usually have a large network of students (santri) in dozens of smaller pesantren. It is this extensive kyai–santri network that is being sought by the tim sukses of each candidates, since each of them consist of tens of thousands prospective voters who might decide a candidate’s political fortunes within a given pesantren’s locality.

The AMIN team’s mobilisation among NU ranks seems to be paying off. According to the latest survey released by Indikator Politik Indonesia on 18 January, Anies’ support in East Java increased by 9.3 percent from 1 December 2023 to 6 January 2024. However, Prabowo still has a commanding lead in the province with 48.2% support, Ganjar 24.5%, and Anies 21.7%.

In the Prabowo–Gibran coalition, NU kyai supporting the pair are those who have previously endorsed and established relationships with either Prabowo or Jokowi in previous elections. A pivotal endorsement for Prabowo–Gibran comes from Habib Luthfi bin Yahya, the supreme leader of the Jam’iyyah Ahli Thariqah al-Mu’tabarah al-Nahdliyah, the main association of Sufi Order (tariqa) to which most NU clerics are affiliated. Notably, Habib Luthfi also holds a position as a member of President Jokowi’s Council of Presidential Advisors.

The eclipse of Muhammadiyah by NU

The pragmatic and opportunistic nature of religious figures inclusion in each candidate’s tim sukses have created pressures within both NU and Muhammadiyah to allow their respective clerics and activists to back one of the presidential candidates, while also retaining their status as politically neutral religious organisations. Long divided into multiple factions based on personal allegiances to influential kyai, NU’s support during this year’s election is equally divided among the three presidential candidates. While NU’s national leadership (Pengurus Besar Nahdlatul Ulama, or PBNU) has officially taken a neutral position, most prominent NU clerics and activists have pledged their endorsement toward one of the candidates.

Meanwhile, Muhammadiyah activists are torn between its leadership’s official position to retain neutrality and their own desires to publicly support presidential candidates. Many of them see the 2024 election as crucial for the future of the 111-year-old Islamic organisation, as it is seen to be losing political influence vis-à-vis other organisations like NU.

Muhammadiyah has in the past enjoyed significant patronage from post-reformasi Indonesian presidents, particularly under Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono (SBY), during whose first term Muhammadiyah figures held five cabinet portfolios. Today, however, Muhammadiyah’s representation in the government is reduced to just one minister in Jokowi’s second-term cabinet—the Coordinating Minister of Human Development and Cultural Affairs, widely considered an unimportant and not especially lucrative position.

This is in contrast to NU, which is represented not only by Vice President Ma’ruf Amin but also an additional four ministers, including the Minister of Religious Affairs. In addition to the cabinet, NU affiliated figures also dominate in appointments of top-echelon civil service positions, especially at the Religious Affairs Ministry, which has the authority to regulate all things related to Muslim affairs, including religious pilgrimage and  pesantren education. With an annual budget of 63 trillion Rupiah (US$4 billion), it has the fourth largest budget of all Indonesian ministries, making it very lucrative for NU.

Muhammadiyah activists are spooked by the rapid decline in the organisation’s social base. In a September 2023 article, pollster Denny JA found that only 5.7% of his August 2023 survey respondents self-declared themselves as Muhammadiyah followers, while in 2005, more than 9.4% of respondents did so—a decline of 40% over an 18-year period. Other analysts have attributed this decline to a growing number of Muhammadiyah cadres (particularly the young) joining more religiously conservative Islamist groups like Tarbiyah/PKS, Hizb-ut Tahrir Indonesia (HTI), and various Salafi-leaning groups.

Due to these factors, there is a growing perception within its ranks that Muhammadiyah is losing out to NU in the competition for political favour and patronage during the Jokowi years. Thus the organisation, despite its officially neutral position, seems eager to cultivate relations with all three 2024 presidential candidates.

This can be seen clearly in its decision to host a series of presidential candidate fora at Muhammadiyah University campuses in Solo, Malang, and Surabaya between 21 and 24 November 2023.  During these forums,  Muhammadiyah leaders asked the candidates whether they plan to award cabinet positions to Muhammadiyah cadres. Both Anies Baswedan and Prabowo Subianto have indicated they might do so, with Prabowo giving hints that at least two ministries—education and health—might be allocated to Muhammadiyah cadres.

Conclusion

To conclude, the non-ideological political manoeuvres of Indonesian Islamic organisations and parties in backing the three presidential candidates in the 2024 election, irrespective of past ideological differences between them, further proves the assertion that Indonesian politics continues to move away from ideological competition. Instead, Islamic groups and parties, along with their nationalist counterparts, are placing more emphasis on political opportunism as the primary drivers of forming these presidential support coalitions.

This means that concerns over the politicisation of Islam, and identity politics, which dominated the 2019 presidential election, have largely dissipated during the 2024 contest. Islamic parties and organisations are more concerned with gaining political appointments and patronage opportunities from whomever is elected as the new Indonesian president. This seems more urgent among groups that appear to have lost political influence like Muhammadiyah. It has been incentivised to regain influence through more extensive engagement with presidential candidates so as to not lose out to groups with more representation at the centre of power, like NU. Whether this engagement will be successful or not remains to be seen.

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