University of Leed menyajikan sebuah bibliography mengenai English School of International Relations Theory. Daftar pustaka kajian mengenai aliran Hubungan Internasional dari Inggris ini menarik untuk dikaji.

Selengkapnya bisa lihat di Resources for English School.

Selain itu terdapat sejumlah makalah yang menarik untuk dibaca dengan berbagai topik dari University of Leeds. Makalah yang bisa dijadikan rujukan dalam kajian Hubungan Internasional bisa diperiksa di Working Papers.

• Represents a new departure in the study of diplomacy and international relations, showing how mainstream IR approaches consistently misunderstand diplomacy and diplomats and underestimate their increasing importance • Examines critical issues of contemporary importance including rogue states, religious extremists, greedy corporations and public diplomacy from a novel perspective and suggests changes in how policy is conducted towards them • Employs both theoretical and practical examples from beyond the world of state diplomacy, and considers the international relations of the ancient world, the pre-Columbian Americas, medieval Europe, and encounters between Europeans and native peoples in Hawaii and North America

Contents

Introduction; Part I. Traditions of International Thought and the Disappointment of Diplomacy: 1. Diplomacy and diplomats in the radical tradition; 2. Diplomacy and diplomats in the rational tradition; 3. Diplomacy and diplomats in the realist tradition; Part II. Elements of a Diplomatic Tradition of International Thought: 4. The diplomatic tradition: conditions and relations of separateness; 5. The diplomatic tradition: diplomacy, diplomats and international relations; Part III. Diplomatic Understanding and International Societies: 6. Using the international society idea; 7. Integration-disintegration; 8. Expansion-contraction; 9. Concentration-diffusion; Part IV. Thinking Diplomatically about International Issues: 10. Rogue state diplomacy; 11. Greedy company diplomacy; 12. Crazy religion diplomacy; 13. Dumb public diplomacy; Conclusion.

Paul Sharp

University of Minnesota, Duluth

Source: Cambridge

The study of international relations remains a reflection of a discipline that was self-consciously centred on North America and, to a lesser degree, the UK and Western Europe. The issue of whether international relations remains ‘an American social science’ or an international discipline and the implications of one’s answer to that question is becoming more critical as we seek to understand how to not only exit our current discontents but to better comprehend why we have done what we have done, and why we are where we are. International changes, whether labelled ‘the end of the Cold War’, ‘New World Order’ or the ‘War on Terror’, like other less significant events in the past have introduced a large measure of either disarray
(if one was previously content) or effervescence (if one was not).
Yet, what cannot be denied is the fact that there now exists greater possibility for theoretical innovation in the field in method, theory or perspective – and the likelihood that these innovations or insights may help not only to shape the field of study, but may have a practical impact on how people act and think. The field of international relations is after all a comparatively young one, which crystallized as part of the social sciences only during the 1920s and 1930s. Yet, how we interpret the history of the field and Asia’s place in it will influence the future shape of the discipline itself, and our understanding of our collective evolution is onedeterminant of our current direction. Comprehending the invention of our traditions
may be both illuminating and influential. As prospects improve for international
relations that are fully international in the scope of its contributors, the broadening
of the disciplinary narrative will become more necessary than ever. In this regard,
Indonesia may provide a useful exploratory study into non-Western approaches to
international theory that could be both innovative and emancipatory.
What is Indonesia’s self-image and what are the consequences of this selfimage?
In the case of Indonesia we encounter an archipelagic nation-state that
constitutes the islands that were part of the Dutch East Indies. While the Javanese
can be regarded as being politically dominant in the Indonesian state today, the
nation was conceived as a multi-ethnic one, with each ethnic group having its own
distinctiveness and geographical domain within the national community. Unlike
the situation in Malaysia, for instance, most of these ethnic groups enjoy the similar
status of being the native population of the nation. The Indonesian process of
nation-building, therefore, involves the integration of multiple ethnic groups and
regions into a shared national identity. Such a national identity was the project of
two authoritarian leaders, Sukarno and Suharto, who sought a centralized model
based on cooptation and if necessary coercion to construct an ‘imagined community’
based on Pancasilaist norms within unitary state structure.
Since the collapse of the Suharto regime in 1998, Indonesia’s identity is in
flux, being shaped by the forces of reformasi (reformation), democratization and
decentralization. Indeed it is this very issue of shifting identity politics in the
post-Suharto era which having reawakened primordial sentiments in Indonesia
now requires a domestic structure approach allowing greater scope to analyse
the preferences or identities of the actors studied. Realism and neoliberal institutionalism
has rarely been used to good effect to examine the phenomenon of
nationalism or for that matter ethnic conflict within states. The approach adopted
in this chapter does not argue that the past can be a basis for the present, but that
a distinctive Indonesian international relations tradition exists which can become
the source of inspiration for alternative ideas about international order. In the open
plural environment that now exists in Indonesia due to democratization, there are
multiple identities within Indonesia’s diverse polity that may shape international
relations thinking and it may be useful to investigate the content of these identities
and speculate how their worldviews contribute to a distinctive Indonesian approach
to international relations theory.
Indonesia and the study of international relations
The strategic perceptions of Indonesia stress integration and unity of regions
in its sprawling geopolitical domain. Indonesia does not appear to be primarily
concerned with military threats from outside to this geopolitical domain. The
exception, as we will discuss later, is when the sphere of power of a Javanese/
Indonesian ruler merges into the perimeter of his neighbour’s. Indonesia though
would be concerned with outside powers using ideological or economic means to
encourage one of its outlying regions to turn against its political centre in Java.
A concept of comprehensive security devised by the Indonesian military involving
all the regions of the nation called ketahanan nasional2 (national resilience) had
evolved to deal with such a perception of threat to the nation. Indonesia’s concept
of security is holistic and national resilience connotes all aspects of national life,
i.e. ideology, politics, the economy, society, culture and the military. In particular,
in the language of security, security and prosperity are interwoven and cannot be
separated from each other. According to a statement by Suharto in 1970:
National resilience encompasses ideological resilience based on a nation’s
own identity which receives the full support of the entire nation, economic
resilience capable of meeting the nation’s own basic needs, social resilience
which ensures the feeling of solidarity and harmony among the peoples, and
an appropriate military resilience to face aggression from outside. Without
national resilience we shall always be afraid.
(Anwar in Alagappa 1998: 477)

In mentioning the Javanese it is important to stress their centrality as an ethnic
group within Indonesia. Their influence depends not only on numerical superiority
but to a certain extent on the potency of their culture. In significant ways,
Indonesian ‘national security’ is understood in Javanese terms. The state itself,
in accordance with the old Indian/Javanese mandala concept of polity, is defined
by its centre, not its periphery. The concept of mandala according to Moertono is
described as:
a complex of geopolitical relations, relating to boundaries and to contact with
foreign countries. The doctrine emphasized the cult of expansion, a necessary
spur to the struggle for existence, self-assertion and world domination, and
the dynamic factor calculated to disturb the equilibrium of inter-state relations.
A state’s belligerence is in the first place directed towards its closest
neighbour(s), thus making necessary the friendship of the state next to the
foe, which, because of its proximity, is also a natural enemy of the foe. But
if the mutual foe should be conquered, the two allies would become close
neighbours, which would create a new enmity. So this circle of alignment
and alienation would steadily expand until a universal peace is reached by the
establishment of a world-state with a sole and supreme ruler (charavartin).
(Moertono 1968 cited in Anderson 1990: 44)
National sovereignty is less threatened by trespass at the borders than by assaults
on the ideological order promulgated from the centre. Social disturbances at the
centre are considered even more important than those occurring at a further remove.
There are no political frontiers and such ‘flexible, fluctuating perimeters’ were a
reflection of the ‘Power of one ruler gradually fading into the distance and merging
imperceptibly with the ascending Power of a neighbouring sovereign’ (Anderson
1990: 41). Such perspectives on frontiers highlight the significant contrasts ‘between
the old idea of a Southeast Asian kingdom and the modern state’ (Anderson
1990: 42). Here we would need to assess Javanese conceptions of power. In the
Javanese worldview, the total quantum of power in the universe must be constant
implying that any increase of power in a particular place means a corresponding
diminution elsewhere. Since power is unstable and readily dispersible, interstate
aggression becomes necessary to maintain the status quo so that a Javanese ruler’s
prestige is not diminished by the attraction of his neighbour’s power (Anderson
1990: 44). Indonesia’s neighbours are quite willing adopt such interpretations to
explain Indonesian aggression in the 1960s and the invasion of East Timor in 1975.
However, such perspectives also have explanatory power when analysing the willingness
of Jakarta to use force in peripheral regions such as Aceh and Papua.
The product of such traditional Javanese thought is the division of the international
realm into two different types of states, namely Java and Seberang (a word
meaning overseas but within the local Indonesian context referring to non-Javanese
groups) (Anderson 1990: 42).3 In the final analysis though, the use of force is the
option of last resort since a destruction of a rival power does not in any way result in
any enlargement of a ruler’s power, rather it results in the dispersal of a rival power,

which in turn could be absorbed by other rivals (Anderson 1990: 44). The use of
force is considered a kasar (crude method) of subduing a rival. While the Javanese
concede that ‘wars are fought for truth’4 there is no glorification of warfare since
a decision to engage in warfare can be construed as an admission of weakness.
Rather a more indirect method of absorbing a rival’s power was through diplomatic
pressure or other halus (civilized methods) like the recognition of superiority or
some form of suzerainty (Anderson 1990 :44).
The ‘centripetality of Javanese thinking’ together with perspectives of ‘graduated
sovereignty’ (Anderson 1990: 43) has two strategic outcomes. First, there
was a need to emphasize control of populations rather than territory (Anderson
1990: 44).5 Second, it is important that the power and influence of the centre
are manifested in increasing social prosperity. The security of this prosperity –
often identified in terms of agricultural production and economic development
– becomes an essential element of national security. Indonesia’s perceptions of
the international community have been shaped by its past history and the internal
make-up of the diverse traditions of its communities. Among those different traditions,
Javanese ideas of statecraft are historically the most developed and coherent.
They are also perhaps the most influential of the traditional orientations.
Both Sukarno and Suharto drew their inspiration from similar cultural traditions
– a culture formed through syncretism between Hinduism and Islam (Yustinianus
2005). In the mindset of Javanese leaders, there is little to differentiate between
reality and the supernatural world. Like their predecessors, Abdurrahman Wahid
(Barton 2002: 386), Megawati Soekarnoputri and Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono
are drawn to the practice of mysticism. All three have been seen visiting a variety
of sacred sites. President Yudhoyono is said to draw inspiration from Bima, a
powerful but virtuous warrior in Javanese folklore. For a Javanese leader there is
the need to receive wangsit (divine guidance) in order to acquire political power.
Such mysticism though is differentiated from klenik (black magic) and for Javanese
leaders a spiritual avenue to getting closer to God (Yustinianus 2005). Further evidence
of the marrying of cultural syncretism between Hindu and Javanese symbols
could be seen in the manner in which both Sukarno and Suharto used wayang
symbols drawn from the Indian epics the Ramayana and Mahabarata to express
their ideas. Sukarno often identified himself as Bima (Legge 2003: 33) and Suharto
took his inspiration from Semar. Yet despite such similarities both men chose to
imbibe different identities drawn from Javanese history. Sukarno’s inspiration was
Kediri’s King Kertanegara, and as the embodiment of national unity he identified
with Gadjah Mada who was determined to unite the archipelago under the control
of the Majapahit kingdom in East Java (Yustinianus 2005). Suharto, however,
chose the methods commonly practiced by the resi (guru) during the Syailendra and
Mataram kingdoms called tapa brata kasunyatan choosing to increase his power
through communing with nature. Furthermore, Suharto was greatly influenced by
the military traditions of the Mangkunegaran royalty, particularly the perspective
that those who wanted to be part of the inner circle of the kraton (palace) were
required to serve in the Mangkunegaran legion (Yustinianus 2005). Naturally there
are practical reasons in the mid-1960s why Suharto rode on the coat-tails of the

military to establish his power (Jenkins 19847). However, the desire to have military
men as part of his inner circle and the establishment of the armed forces dual
function or dwifungsi would also have been influenced by Mangunegaran military
doctrine called the Serat Tripama first implemented by Raden Mas Said’s successor,
Mangkunegaran IV. The narrow role of regime maintenance prescribed for
the Indonesian military by Suharto could be a direct consequence of his adherence
to Mangunegaran military tradition which emphasizes three principles: Sumantri
(referring to a knight who defends his king and people), Kumbakarna (representing
patriotism) and Narpati Basukara (stressing the need for a knight to defend his
king’s throne as part of service to the king) (Yustinianus 2005). Even B. J. Habibie,
the country’s third president though not of Javanese origin closely identified with
orthodox Islam and was not averse to Suharto’s guidance on matters related to
mysticism, which seemingly may account for why he choose not to adopt a foreign
policy stance influenced by Islam.
Indigenous sources for Indonesian IR theory
While there is still lack of effort among Indonesian IR scholars to develop an
Indonesian IR theory, as we have discussed briefly, there are actually enough
indigenous sources from which the scholars can theorize if they choose to do so.
The two major potential sources of research can be analytical work on the political
behaviour of leaders and detailed exploration of political thinking that are at least
partially influenced by politico-cultural traits of the various ethnic groups inhabiting
the archipelago. Such approaches are an important starting point allowing us to
develop a sense of the cultural context whereby decisions are made without which
our insights into strategic behaviour may be narrow and insufficiently grounded.
Indonesia is comprised of hundreds of ethnic groups and a coherent project
aimed at exploring these indigenous traditions can provide useful background for
significant theorizing. In the absence of such theorizing enterprises and the absence
of an adequate body of literature among Indonesian scholars that draws from
indigenous sources, our exploratory work emanates from a basic understanding
of political cultures representing the two major clusters of ethnic groups. We may
be guilty of oversimplification, but for starters let us evolve an experiment in pretheory
by analysing the politico-cultural traits of these ethnic clusters, namely, the
Javanese and the outer islanders (Seberang tradition). There is pride in the greatness
of the ancient Javanese and Seberang kingdoms taught in classrooms across
the archipelago – admiration for Srivijaya and Majapahit, the Sultanates of Aceh
and Mataram to mention the most prominent. Those who live in Seberang areas
are likely to look back to Srivijaya as a golden age and the Javanese revel in the
high courtly civilization they have inherited from Majapahit and Mataram. Indeed
the Malay chronicles have highlighted the greatness of the fourteenth-century
Javanese kingdom of Majapahit that enjoyed a brief period of ‘empire-building’
under Gadjah Mada though it is important to note that the power of Majapahit
was conceived not only on the basis of military and political success but also on
superior religious and cultural attainments. The ambiguity of power will always

military to establish his power (Jenkins 19847). However, the desire to have military
men as part of his inner circle and the establishment of the armed forces dual
function or dwifungsi would also have been influenced by Mangunegaran military
doctrine called the Serat Tripama first implemented by Raden Mas Said’s successor,
Mangkunegaran IV. The narrow role of regime maintenance prescribed for
the Indonesian military by Suharto could be a direct consequence of his adherence
to Mangunegaran military tradition which emphasizes three principles: Sumantri
(referring to a knight who defends his king and people), Kumbakarna (representing
patriotism) and Narpati Basukara (stressing the need for a knight to defend his
king’s throne as part of service to the king) (Yustinianus 2005). Even B. J. Habibie,
the country’s third president though not of Javanese origin closely identified with
orthodox Islam and was not averse to Suharto’s guidance on matters related to
mysticism, which seemingly may account for why he choose not to adopt a foreign
policy stance influenced by Islam.
Indigenous sources for Indonesian IR theory
While there is still lack of effort among Indonesian IR scholars to develop an
Indonesian IR theory, as we have discussed briefly, there are actually enough
indigenous sources from which the scholars can theorize if they choose to do so.
The two major potential sources of research can be analytical work on the political
behaviour of leaders and detailed exploration of political thinking that are at least
partially influenced by politico-cultural traits of the various ethnic groups inhabiting
the archipelago. Such approaches are an important starting point allowing us to
develop a sense of the cultural context whereby decisions are made without which
our insights into strategic behaviour may be narrow and insufficiently grounded.
Indonesia is comprised of hundreds of ethnic groups and a coherent project
aimed at exploring these indigenous traditions can provide useful background for
significant theorizing. In the absence of such theorizing enterprises and the absence
of an adequate body of literature among Indonesian scholars that draws from
indigenous sources, our exploratory work emanates from a basic understanding
of political cultures representing the two major clusters of ethnic groups. We may
be guilty of oversimplification, but for starters let us evolve an experiment in pretheory
by analysing the politico-cultural traits of these ethnic clusters, namely, the
Javanese and the outer islanders (Seberang tradition). There is pride in the greatness
of the ancient Javanese and Seberang kingdoms taught in classrooms across
the archipelago – admiration for Srivijaya and Majapahit, the Sultanates of Aceh
and Mataram to mention the most prominent. Those who live in Seberang areas
are likely to look back to Srivijaya as a golden age and the Javanese revel in the
high courtly civilization they have inherited from Majapahit and Mataram. Indeed
the Malay chronicles have highlighted the greatness of the fourteenth-century
Javanese kingdom of Majapahit that enjoyed a brief period of ‘empire-building’
under Gadjah Mada though it is important to note that the power of Majapahit
was conceived not only on the basis of military and political success but also on
superior religious and cultural attainments. The ambiguity of power will always

be a source of contention. However, are material measures the only legitimate
approach? What about the more cognitive aspects of power? (See, for example,
Geertz 1983: 121–46; Milner 1982.)
Javanese political culture
Javanese political culture has been more widely explored by social scientists than
the Seberang political culture. This is probably due to the fact that the Javanese are
the largest Indonesian ethnic group and that theirs is one of the ancient civilizations
in the world (Geertz 1960: 78). Given their long history, the Javanese have built a
culture that is complex, intricate, and rich in spiritual life. The cradle of Javanese
civilization is the fertile agricultural land in central Java around the present day cities
of Yogyakarta and Surakarta. Historically, it has been an agricultural society. As
in many such societies, the Javanese developed an inward-looking, insular, communitarian,
status-conscious and hierarchy-minded culture (Liddle 1996: 65–6).
Such cultural features are also due to the heavy influence of Hindu-Buddhism in
Java, which had been the predominant beliefs of the Javanese prior to the arrival
of Islam in the fifteenth century. The caste system of Hinduism created significant
social differentiation and stratification, which became deeply embedded within the
Javanese psyche (Koentjaraningrat 1975: 58–60). Due to its emphasis on hierarchy,
the concept of Javanese leadership makes a clear distinction between gusti (lords)9
and kawula (subjects) (Lubis in Crouch and Hill 1992: 297; Uhlin 1997: 52).
The idea of power in Javanese culture is rather peculiar. It runs against the common
perception of power in the West. Anderson argues that for the Javanese, power
is concrete and finite, and holders of power are expected to be able to demonstrate
power through the possession of certain objects deemed to have supernatural
powers10 (Anderson 1990: 27). Power is also homogeneous. It means that there
is no differentiation of types of power. It is also regarded as constant in terms of
total quality. It means that an increase of one’s power must happen at the expense
of others. Thus, the quest for power is perceived as zero-sum. Lastly, power is
detached from moral questions. It is neither good nor bad,11 nor does it matter
how it is achieved. What does matter is whether one has power or not (Anderson
1990: 22–3). In terms of accession to power, the Javanese believe that power is
either received from inheritance or from a divine favour (wahyu). Such favour is
believed to be bestowed upon rulers of relatively humble origins, coming to power
after a period of turmoil and bloodshed (Koentjaraningrat in Ibrahim et al. 1985:
290; Anderson 1990: 38–9).
In the Javanese conception, power is closely associated with ‘concentration’
and ‘oneness’. Conversely, diffusion of authority means an impurity in power,
and therefore should be avoided by all power holders. Thus, for a Javanese leader,
diffusion of power within the state is regarded as a sign of weakness. A Javanese
leader will always strive to unite different segments of the society under his rule and
try to mould different – sometimes opposing – ideas believed by different groups
into a single new idea that can be accepted by all (Anderson 1990: 22–3, 28–33).
The search for harmony is the keyword in understanding Javanese social life,
including statecraft (Anderson 1990: 28–33). The Javanese have a profound ability
to absorb new ideas, select parts of new ideas suitable to their way of life, merge
them with the existing culture, and thus rejuvenate the old culture as well as creating
a new, syncretic one. Therefore the Javanese are known to be tolerant to the
ideas of others, so long as these ideas do not contradict the central assumptions of
their social lives.
Another important facet of the Javanese concept of power is the idea of pamrih12
to explain the ruler’s downfall from power. A ruler is said to have pamrih in his
leadership if he refuses or hesitates to carry out his duty to the state because of
sympathy or empathy for his friends or family members. A pamrih is also said to
exist if the ruler carries out a certain act in his personal favour (usually involving
material benefits) or in the favour of his close associates or family members, or
in other words corrupt and nepotistic practices (Anderson 1990: 51–3). Pamrih
is a sign that the power of the ruler is weakening and that a change of power
is imminent.
Seberang political culture
As opposed to the vastness of scholarship on Javanese political culture, the political
culture of the outer islands is rather inadequately covered. It is perhaps due to
the fact that, in contrast to the Javanese, there are various groups living in these
islands, and they tend to be spread out all over the archipelago. A relative lack of
communication among them, unlike in Java, has rendered the creation of a single
civilization among these groups unimaginable. Hence, it is quite difficult to define
accurately the presence of an outer islands (Seberang) political culture.
Nevertheless, there are some common qualities shared by many of these non-
Javanese ethnic groups, or at least among the larger, more assertive and articulative
ones. Among these groups are the Acehnese, Batak and Minangkabau of Sumatra,
and the Bugis and Makassar peoples of Sulawesi, as well as the people of the
Maluku islands. The people living in coastal towns in the northern parts of Java
(pesisir Javanese) can also be classified within this group, as well as the people of
Banten (the westernmost part of Java island).13
According to Koentjaraningrat, there are two categories in the socio-geographical
feature of these peoples. First, the majority of these ethnic groups live on the coastal
areas. This is the case of the Minangkabau, Acehnese, Buginese, Makassarese, the
many groups of Maluku and the pesisir Javanese. Second, others of the Seberang
ethnic groups live in remote interior areas. Prominent examples of this category are
the Bataks, Toraja and Minahasa of Sulawesi and Dayaks of Kalimantan.14
These two categories of ethnic groups share a common feature concerning the
extent of influence from Indic religions, Hinduism and Buddhism. Compared to
the vast Hindu-Buddhist influence in Java (and Hinduism in Bali), the presence of
these two religions in the outer islands was much less prevalent (Koentjaraningrat
1975: 57–60).15 As a result, social stratification did not become the main rule of
the societies. While in many, if not all, of these groups there was a functional
differentiation, especially the existence of the rulers and the followers, in general

the differentiation was not as complex and intricate as in the Javanese model. In
many of these ethnic groups, especially in the coastal communities, the rulers
were less shrouded in an aura of mysticism and secrecy, and generally were more
accessible. The decision-making process in the Seberang communities was also
generally more open and commoners were usually involved. The rulers frequently
consulted the public for decisions regarding the societies in consultation meetings
(musyawarah) (Sjamsuddin in Najib 1996: 40–7; Effendi in Najib 1996: 83–7;
Sairin in Najib 1996:142–6).
The socio-geographical difference between the coastal and the interior non-Javanese
societies did not amount to significant differences in their worldviews about
statecraft. While in the interior outer-island tribes there was a significant degree
of mysticism developed around the idea of power, the lack of Indic influence
rendered a relatively more relaxed social stratification. The coastal communities
were traditionally engaged in commerce and seafaring activities. As travelling
merchants, they tended to possess the qualities of being culturally open, direct
and individualistic. This was due to the relatively small amount of time that they
spent on land in their home villages, which did not enable them to contemplate or
devise elaborate social customs and traditions. As a result, one’s fortune was usually
determined by individual rather than collective effort. Additionally, the lingua
franca of the seafaring merchants in the archipelago in the sixteenth or seventeenth
century was Malay. As opposed to the complex Javanese language, the Malay language
was comparatively egalitarian and less stratified.16 For these qualities, the
Javanese have often regarded the Seberang people as ‘kasar’17 (Koentjaraningrat
1975: 58; Anderson1990: 50–1).
Compared to the Javanese, the cultures of the Seberang communities are less
structured and elaborate. This is due to the small agricultural surpluses and high
rate of mobility of the people (Liddle 1996: 66). In some instances, the effort to
develop classes of civil servants and nobility was interrupted by the strengthening
of colonial rule. Such was the case of the Bugis, where the direct rule of the
Dutch colonial administration made the use of symbols of nobility decline rapidly
(Koentjaraningrat 1975: 94–5).
Being maritime-based, Seberang cultures generally promote a greater sense of
individuality than the agriculturally based Javanese culture. As opposed to Javanese
inclusive and assimilative traits, the Seberang cultures tend to be more exclusive
and rigid. The sense of ‘we-they’ is more prevalent in the Seberang cultures than in
the Javanese one. As an illustration, a Javanese would likely approach a difference
of opinion by attempting to reconcile the differences by finding a middle ground
or a syncretic solution, whereas a typical Seberang person would likely approach a
similar situation by recognizing the differences while maintaining each individual’s
position or suggesting a competition between the different ideas.
Islamic influence
The differences between the Javanese and Seberang political cultures are more
apparent in the different reactions of the two cultures towards the influence of
Islam. Islam came to the archipelago in the thirteenth century, brought by merchants
from southern India and Persia.18 It first arrived in the archipelago in Aceh,
the northern tip of Sumatra, where the first Islamic sultanate in Southeast Asia
was formed, known as the Samudera Pasai. It then spread to Malacca, where a
powerful sultanate dominated the busy strait separating Sumatra and the Malay
Peninsula. From Malacca, Islam spread to the coastal towns of Sumatra, which
were under Malacca’s sphere of influence. Islam was next brought to the northern
coastal towns of Java, where a new sultanate of Demak was formed. During the
fifteenth century, the rising Demak state challenged the power of the declining
interior Javanese kingdom, Majapahit. After a series of power struggles, which
involved a mix between peaceful and conformist proselytization of the local people
and the use of force, Majapahit fell. In its place, a new Javanese sultanate of
Mataram was established.
The next stage was the Islamization of the peoples living in the other islands of
the archipelago. This was primarily conducted by the Islamic Sumatra, Malacca
and Javanese sultanates. Before the arrival of European traders, Islam had become
the predominant religion of the land. Its strongest foothold can be found all over
Sumatra except in the interior of northern Sumatra, the whole of Java, the coastal
areas of Kalimantan, all over Sulawesi except in the interior of South Sulawesi and
the northern tip of the island, northern Maluku islands and western Lesser Sunda
islands (Koentjaraningrat 1975: 20–219).
However, there was a significant difference in the reception to Islam in Java from
that in Seberang. Such a difference resulted in different forms of Islam being practiced
in Indonesia. In Java, Islam won adherents among the people primarily due
to the cultural approach taken by the Islamic proselytizers, known as the ‘wali’.20
After the northern coastal towns of Java became Islamized through trading contacts
with Sumatra and Malacca merchants, the effort to introduce Islam to the interior
Javanese was carried out primarily by the Javanese wali. In an effort to convey
the message of Islam to the Javanese masses, these wali employed the symbols,
folklore, legends and rituals of the old Hindu culture, such as wayang and gamelan
(Anderson 1972: 68). Such a strategy proved highly successful, and in a relatively
short period of time, Java was Islamized.
The message carried by the wali through the conformist strategy led most
Javanese to find Islam suitable to their way of life. This was aided by the fact that
Islam came to Indonesia from Persia and southern India, where it had already been
patrimonialized21 (Anderson 1972: 68–9). Hence, in the interior of Java Islamic
practices were mixed with the existing Hindu cultural attributes. In many cases,
Hindu practices were more dominant than the Islamic rituals. From time to time, the
Javanese would engage in Hindu ceremonies glossed over by some Arabic words
said to be derived from the Qur’an. However, most Javanese would claim that they
were Muslims, even though they would rarely execute the Islamic rituals as defined
by the ‘Five Pillars of Islam’.22 The people who practice this variant of Javanese
nominal Islam are known as the abangan.23 In fact, the religious practices of the
interior Javanese, signifying a balanced syncretism between animistic, Hinduistic
and Islamic elements, are so different from Islam, so as to create a new religion

altogether (Geertz 1960: 5; Liddle 1996: 65; Koentjaraningrat 1975: 21, 112–19,
who called this belief as ‘Agama Jawi’ or ‘Kejawen’24).
In East Java, which was considered a hinterland of Java, outside of the sphere
of influence of ‘proper’ Java but still heavily influenced by the interior Javanese
values, Islam was practiced more piously. Islam in this part of Java was developed
through a complex schooling system known as the pesantren and its followers
known as the santri. Historically, during the height of Hindu Javanese kingdoms,
religious and intellectual powers were not held by the ruling class residing in
the kraton (palaces) in the heartland of the Javanese culture (Yogyakarta and
Surakarta). Rather these powers were possessed by the kyai (teachers) living in the
eastern coastal and interior areas of Java. As opposed to the decadent lifestyles of
the urban kraton ruling class, the kyai built, taught and led a frugal lifestyle in the
pondok (boarding schools), located mostly in the villages (Anderson 1990: 126–9;
Feillard 1999: 3–5).
As in the other parts of Java, Islam was also welcomed and generally took
over the social institutions in eastern Java. And as in the kraton, the pondok also
embraced Islam syncretically. For the most part, the teaching styles and rituals in
the pondok did not abandon the previous Hinduistic practices. Islamic teachings
basically just glossed over the Hindu recitations. Additionally, the patrimonial
worldview of the kyai towards power and leadership remained similar to that
held by the Javanese kraton. But in contrast to the kraton, in most pesantren the
relationship between the kyai and the santri was rather informal. Most kyai were
relaxed and casual when they related to their santri. Nonetheless, this interaction
was marked by the most stringent rule, namely that the kyai were to be respected
and the santri were to follow the creeds laid out by the kyai at all times. The santri
were also expected to protect and defend the honour and dignity of the kyai from
outside criticism. It did not mean, however, that criticisms were not allowed to be
uttered within the pesantren. In fact, in some pesantren the learning atmosphere
could get very lively. But when it came to the interaction with the outside world,
all santri were behind their kyai without any reservation. In essence, therefore,
the presence of Islam did not alter the existing political culture and institutional
power relations in Java.
Islam took the purest form in the outer islands. Due to the lack of powerful
Hindu kingdoms when it entered, Islam was embraced without any major resistance.
Many local rulers in Sumatra and later on in Sulawesi and Maluku perceived
that Islam was the religion of the merchants. Because of the flourishing trade with
Islamic Malacca, the major trading power in the region at that time, the peoples
of the outer islands quickly embraced Islam in order to facilitate their businesses.
They also did not have any major cultural objections to Islam. Islam seemed to
fit the egalitarian lifestyle and simple social structure that these maritime trading
societies have developed over centuries. Furthermore, Islam was seen as an alternative
to the Hinduism then embraced by the Javanese.
When Islamic reformism entered the archipelago in the early twentieth century
by way of Malaya, the Seberang peoples were the first to welcome it. Islamic
reformism was then a new movement propagated by the Egyptian Muhammad

Abduh, aimed at purifying the teaching of Islam from local mystical practices.
Reformist Muslims called for the return to the Qur’an and Hadits/Sunnah Rasul25
as the sole guidance of Islamic teaching. The teaching also intended to rationalize
Islam and update it to the needs of the contemporary era, through the concept
of ‘ijtihad’.26 Hence, it was also called ‘Islamic modernism’. Again, the more
straightforward Seberang peoples accepted this movement wholeheartedly because
it seemed to suit their cultural traits (Anderson 1972: 69–70; Koentjaraningrat
1975: 45; Feillard 1999: 6–7; Feith and Castles: 201). Therefore, the type of Islam
developed in these communities was different from the Javanese variants.
Political behaviour of Indonesian leaders as a source for
theory
As the world’s largest Muslim nations, there is a natural inclination to consider
Indonesia as a source for alternative thinking or behaviour that reflects Islamic
tradition. But this has not been the case. There are three reasons why Islamic
thinking and praxis on international relations have not prominently come out of
Indonesia. First, as mentioned above, purist Islam grew mostly in Seberang areas,
and while the Seberang have been actively involved in Indonesian politics, they
have not been able to occupy national leadership positions, which have been by
and large dominated by the Javanese. Hence, no distinctive Islamic praxis can be
observed from the Indonesian experience. Second, in the Islamic world, Indonesia
and Southeast Asians have been perceived largely as occupying marginal positions.
The Middle East remains to be seen as the centre of Islamic excellence. While
many Indonesians went to educational institutions in the Middle East, such as the
Al Azhar in Cairo or Medina Islamic University in Saudi Arabia, there is practically
no internationally renowned Islamic educational institution in Indonesia. Third
and perhaps most important, the preoccupation of Islamic groups in Indonesia
has traditionally been revolved around statehood and issues, that is, the state
foundation (the issue of Islamic versus secular state), open political competition
versus authoritarian control, and centralized rule versus regional autonomy. This
fact indicates two things. First, Indonesian Muslim groups do not hold particular
affinity towards the idea of global Islamic ummah ruled under an Islamic khilafah.
They see Indonesia as a de facto basis for allegiance. If discussions on a global
Islamic ummah occurred, they are usually carried out in a theological rather than
political sense. Second, international relations does not occupy a major position
in the list of priorities of Islamic groups. As most Indonesians view it, it is rather
seen as a luxury.
So instead of Islam, the Javanese political culture seems to have dominated
modern Indonesian leadership. Undoubtedly, studies on the Javanese political
culture are much more explored and refined than the Seberang one. This is due to
three reasons. First, the Javanese are the largest ethnic group in Indonesia. They
comprise around 45 per cent of the whole Indonesian population. Second, the
Javanese had a long history of civilization, which is reinforced by the presence of
a number of powerful and influential kingdoms. This has enabled them to develop

their political culture. Third, the majority of modern Indonesian leaders hailed
from this ethnic group. Since independence, all but one Indonesian president have
hailed from Java. As such, the bureaucracy and decision-making process have been
dominated by Javanese culture.
Indonesian foreign policy, during the Sukarno period but especially during the
Suharto era, is a reflection of this political culture. The so-called ‘ASEAN way’,
which stressed the consensual basis of forging and maintaining relationship among
ASEAN countries was supported, if not insisted upon, by Suharto. It can be perceived
as a manifestation of the Javanese conception of achieving and maintaining
harmony as one of the primary goals of social life. The Javanese tended to avoid
open disagreement and would naturally be inclined to attempt solving differences
by having closed door discussions, away from the eyes of the general public.
This does not mean, however, that the Javanese are willing to bend backwards in
order to maintain harmony. In fact, the belief that power is ‘indivisible’ and must be
‘concentrated’ required the Javanese to attempt to subdue the interests of others to
those of their own. Although this does sound like typical realist argument, it carries
an important difference. The Javanese would do their utmost to avoid using force
as a means to coerce others into doing or becoming something they desire. They
view the Western conception of ‘power through the barrel of a gun’ as ‘kasar’,
and therefore unappealing. Instead, the Javanese would attempt to use the power
of ‘personal charisma’ to influence others. The power of ‘personal influence’ may
sound to Western scholars as fluffy and unsubstantiated, but for Javanese leaders,
it lies at the very heart of leadership. As mentioned above, the Javanese believe that
one becomes a leader due to wahyu (divine favour), in which charisma is an integral
part. A charisma-less leader is an oxymoron for Javanese (Leifer 198327).
And in many ways during the New Order, Suharto was able to use this power
of influence quite effectively. Indonesia was able to secure much of its interests
during the New Order without having to undergo an expensive arms build-up. This
is in stark contrast to the ‘Konfrontasi’28 policy of Sukarno, which was supported
in the mid-1960s by one of the most well-equipped armed forces in the developing
world, but achieved practically nothing in terms of national interests.
From the Javanese viewpoint, leaders who attempt to achieve what they want by
using force or threat of force except in contexts where ‘wars are fought for truth’ are
weak leaders whose leadership is artificial and not worth respecting. The Javanese
also view leaders who transform their approach from using the power of influence
to resorting to violence as performing ‘pamrih’. The key is the manner in which
power is exercised. Is it exercised in a self-interested manner? This shortcoming
was what the Javanese saw in Sukarno. Sukarno had relied primarily on the power
of his charisma during much of his presidency. He was successful in getting international
recognition for the republic, and managed to persuade the federal states
of Republik Indonesia Serikat (RUSI, Republic of the United States of Indonesia)
to disband themselves and return to the unitary form of the Republic of Indonesia.
He also successfully hosted the first Afro-Asian Conference in 1955 in Bandung,
which eventually inspired mass decolonization in Asia and Africa. Despite displaying
and eventually using some force during the liberation of West Irian, it was

eventually the power of diplomacy that brought the territory back to Indonesia.
But the whole approach was changed during ‘Konfrontasi’. The threat of force
began at the outset of the crisis and followed by the use of it. Therefore, Sukarno
had committed ‘pamrih’. That being said, the use of force as part of official policy
cannot be ruled out completely. But it has to be used as a last resort, and has to be
grounded on a solid rationale. Leaders have to know when to use force. And if the
situation dictates that they should use it, but they hesitated or decided against it,
then they are also performing ‘pamrih’. One episode in the epic of Bharatayudha
where the God Wisnu advised Arjuna not to hesitate in going to war with their evil
brothers, the Kurawa, is often used as a learning point.
For practical purposes Indonesian leaders basically view the world as a hostile,
uncertain and unsafe environment (Weinstein 1976: 128). Dutch attempts
at neocolonialism in the late 1940s, tacit US support for the PRRI-Permesta
regional rebellion in 1958 and the destabilizing influence of communist China
through its support for the PKI in the early 1960s had reinforced the perception
that Indonesia was vulnerable to practices of divide and rule carried out by
stronger, foreign powers bent on exploiting and/or subjugating Indonesia for
their interests. This, together with the continuing fear of dismemberment of the
Indonesian nation, and the resulting emphasis on unity, political stability and the
absolute sanctity of national borders, led to the promulgation of the ‘archipelago
principle’ or Wawasan Nusantara – a concept of territorial and national unity
which regards Indonesia as an inseparable union of land and water (tanah-air or
homeland) first mooted in 1957. Hence, although Indonesian leaders may view the
world in neorealist terms, interestingly, concepts of deterrence and security have
consistently been articulated by and large through ideational and non-material
strategies.
Note the language used by Sukarno addresses Indonesia’s security vulnerabilities.
That Sukarno consistently emphasized the theme of unity relating it to
questions of domestic and international solidarity was strikingly evident in his
political thought, with its emphasis on continuous revolution and self reliance
(Berdiri di-atas Kaki Sendiri or ‘standing on one’s own feet’) for a domestic
audience imbued with revolutionary fervour from the War of Independence since
the late 1940s and familiar with gotong royong (self-help principles) drawn from
Javanese tradition where many necessary village tasks were accomplished through
communal effort. At the same time, his brand of nationalism combining anti-
Western connotations were motivated by a desire to brandish his credentials as a
leader of the developing world. These elements were established in his thinking
from the 1930s. In the 1950s, concerns over the excesses of liberal democracy and
the divisions created by it drew him towards establishing a political system with
a normative structure that emphasized reaching decisions based on Indonesian
values of consensus (musyawarah) and deliberation with the aim of preserving
national unity. Similar motivations were at work when in the early 1960s he
devised the acronym NASAKOM to symbolize the unity of nationalism, religion
and communism concerned that an Indonesian identity remained elusive. If the preservation
of unity and the practical difficulty of achieving it seemed to consume his

thinking since 1957, Sukarno nevertheless sought to return to one of his favourite
pre-independence themes, namely, anti-imperialism. It was clothed however in a
different guise. His view of the outside world Nekolim (neocolonialism, colonialism
and imperialism) was a 1960s variant of the anti-imperialism stance he held
in the 1920s, the only difference being a worldview that saw the last vestige of
colonial rule manifesting itself in the form of continuing economic domination or
remaining Western spheres of influence in the developing world. Such thinking
was articulated in the concept of a new struggle between new emerging forces and
old established forces ‘between imperialism in its new forms on the one hand and
justice, equality and freedom for the long exploited peoples of the world on the on
the other’ (Legge 2003: 386–7), which was to be transformed in Sukarno’s own
inimitable language as concepts of NEFO and OLDEFO.29 These concepts were
not actually his theories of international order but could be seen as a useful reference
point for Sukarno on who were his friends and foes. In this regard, the West,
particularly through its support of rebels who were behind the regional rebellions
of 1958 in Sumatra and Sulawesi, became his undisputed adversary. Following
this line of reasoning, the Indonesian government opposed the presence of British
bases in British North Borneo, Malay and Singapore as well as US bases in the
Philippines. Sukarno’s ‘ideas were no longer attempts at a description of reality
or even weapons of revolution but were a means of manipulating the immediate
political environment’ (Legge 2003: 389). If the 1920s version of anti-imperialism
meant fighting the Dutch, then his attempt at forging unity and solidarity within
the Non-Aligned Movement was geared towards highlighting the ‘antithesis between
wealth and poverty – the new emerging forces, said Sukarno were warning
the affluent societies that they could not go on exploiting the poverty-stricken
nations’ (Legge 2003: 387). At the 1961 conference of non-aligned states held
in Belgrade, Sukarno delivered his NEFO and OLDEFO concepts thereby establishing
Indonesia at the forefront of like-minded nations by declaring a political
philosophy that viewed Western economic development as evidence of continuing
nineteenth-century practices of imperialism. Following Indonesia’s withdrawal
from the United Nations in January 1965 Sukarno had proposed a Conference of the
New Emerging Forces (CONEFO), which would formally incorporate Indonesia’s
leading role in world non-aligned nations and provide an alternative voice on international
affairs to the United Nations. This initiative proved stillborn and the fact
that the conference did not take place was a reflection of Sukarno’s waning status,
both domestically and internationally.
This consistent theme of ‘unity’ and its employment in new circumstances, for
instance, the need to safeguard national self-determination, national security and
territorial integrity, had justified the decision to invade East Timor in 1975 and
forcibly integrate the territory. Indeed, virtually the same justification and the
same vocabulary as Sukarno had been employed by two very different Indonesian
governments during the 1960s, and were ultimately successful in realizing Jakarta’s
long-standing claim to the much larger and strategically more important area of
Irian Jaya, now known as Papua. As Michael Leifer explains,

both the East Timor and the Irian Jaya acquisitions, although viewed by some
as representing expansionistic tendencies on Indonesia’s part, actually had
much more to do with a widespread and historically-based Indonesian perception
of the innate vulnerability of the Republic, especially to any conjuncture
between dissension and external interference.
(Leifer 1983: 174).
This last point is particularly crucial in terms of understanding Indonesia’s approach
to external security for it reaffirms the extent to which Indonesia is prepared to do
whatever it deems necessary to safeguard its most basic concerns – in this case the
security and territorial integrity of the nation itself – even at the risk of doing damage
to the conduct of its foreign policy in less immediate and crucial areas. There
is no doubt that the East Timor takeover had created additional complications and
difficulties in Indonesia’s relations with its major Western trading partners and aid
donors. Equally important, the Timor invasion served to revive (in some sectors,
at least) the unfortunate spectrum of an Indonesia bent on further expansion or at
least on asserting its primacy and dominance as the largest and most populous state
in the region. As a consequence of concerns that these suspicions and fears persist
among Indonesia’s neighbours, the Indonesian response since 1975 has been to
greatly expand bilateral contacts as well as to step up regional diplomacy. These
moves would benefit Indonesia in two ways. First, they would provide a platform
to build an understanding and appreciation of Indonesia’s positions on policy in
regions within the country prone to succession. Second, they would bring to the
forefront an effective non-military approach to resolving this perennial problem of
territorial vulnerability without raising the spectre of Indonesian expansionism.
With tensions in the Southeast Asian region increasing following the Vietnamese
invasion of Kampuchea (Cambodia), there was an effort to broaden Indonesia’s
comprehensive security doctrine or the doctrine of National Resilience (Ketahanan
Nasional) to a concept of Regional Resilience. The fundamental reason for the
need of a strong national and regional resilience is due to the fact that political
stability is indivisible among the ASEAN states. Political instability in any one
state would have repercussions for all other states since such political instability
often spills over the state’s boundary. Hence, the Declaration of ASEAN Concord
signed by the five heads of government in 1976 stated that ‘the stability of each
member state and of the ASEAN region is an essential contribution to international
peace and security. Each member resolves to eliminate threats posed by subversion
to its stability, thus strengthening national and ASEAN resilience’ (ASEAN
Secretariat 1978: 111).
The main concern was, of course, internal instabilities with external implications,
that is, communist subversion (supported either by the People’s Republic
of China or the Soviet Union) and radical Islamic extremism (supported by certain
Middle East countries). The history of post-independence Indonesia is rife
with incidences that indicate that internal instabilities often provide the incentive
for external intervention, which in turn would aggravate the situation. The lack
of a credible defence force to serve as a deterrent for external intervention has

led to the need to develop effective non-material strategies to ensure, first, that
Indonesia’s national integrity is not compromised, and second, that a favourable
regional security environment is maintained. What is important to remember is that
strategic doctrines like Wawasan Nusantara (Regional Resilience) do not emerge
from a void. They are a product of culturally informed strategic practices that,
while recognizing neorealism’s imperative for need for survival in an anarchical
material environment, conceive of a realpolitik practice in graduated terms. These
terms employ both material and ideational strategies where calculations are based
on whether or not distributions of power are advantageous or disadvantageous
and the degree to which valuable national resources can be mobilized against the
emergence of a predator state altering the social structure of state interaction in
the region.
Study of international relations in Indonesia
During the Dutch colonial period, universities only offered courses on selected
subjects, mostly on non-political or non-sociological topics such as technology,
medicine or law. These fields of study were deemed as useful to fulfil the professional
posts by indigenous Indonesians needed by the colonial government in
managing and consolidating its rule in the Netherlands East Indies.30
So in Indonesia, international relations, like many other branches of social
science, is a postcolonial field of study. The first IR department in Indonesian
universities was established at the Gadjah Mada University in Yogyakarta in 1950
as a study programme within the Faculty of Law, and Social and Political Sciences.
Other universities then followed in establishing IR departments in the 1950s and
1960s. Not much is known about the curriculum, direction or research agenda of
these departments in the early years, except that most of the programmes were
most probably directed towards producing graduates to fulfil the administrative
and bureaucratic posts of the new state, especially on foreign affairs.
Indonesian universities have been known as the hotbed of political activism.
Successive governments rose and fell due to pressure of student activism. But
ironically, students of politics or international relations were not known to become
the student leaders. As in the pre-independence era, most of the activists either
came from more established fields of study linked to technology, medicine or law,
which drew on a larger student cohort.
Currently, there are 43 universities that offer IR baccalaureate degree programmes
in Indonesia.31 But only 25 of these programmes have received government accreditation.
It may seem like many, but it is very small in proportion to the more than
2,600 academies, colleges and universities all over the country. However, there
are only two universities that offer a Masters degree programme, and only one of
them, the University of Indonesia (UI), actually has students enrolled in the programme.
No higher educational institutions offer a doctoral degree programme.
The latter statistics are probably more indicative of the state of the discipline in
the country.
Other statistics indicate the condition of relative deprivation of IR education

in Indonesia. There are more than 10,000 students (52 per cent male; 48 per cent
female) currently enrolled in the baccalaureate degree programme in the field,
while only 77 are currently studying in the Masters programme at UI. These students
are tutored by 514 registered lecturers. Of these lecturers, the majority (285)
are holders of a Masters degree, but only 32 of them hold doctorates, slightly more
than six per cent of the total number of lecturers. Large percentages (38 per cent)
of them are baccalaureate degree holders.
The relatively low educational level among the IR educators is due to two factors:
first, the very small number of domestic educational institutions offering IR
graduate degrees. Most of the educators attaining graduate degrees most probably
received their graduate education either abroad or in a related non-IR discipline
such as politics, government or public administration, which is in better condition
than IR with regard to graduate education. Second, the universities generally do not
offer a competitive incentive and a clear career path. Additionally, the excessive
teaching load provides a time constraint for the educators to engage in meaningful
research activities. Hence, many IR graduate degree holders from abroad usually
do not make teaching their full-time job, unless of course they already taught prior
to pursuing graduate degrees. These foreign graduates tend to pursue a career either
in the government sector, which provides more job security, or in the private think
tanks that offer higher incentives and more time to do research. While many of
them still teach, they do it on a part-time basis.32
The institution of IR research is also weak. There are not too many universitybased
research centres. The existing ones, such as the Centre for International
Relations Research (CIRES) in the University of Indonesia, usually do not have
rigorous research programmes. This is due to the excessive teaching load of the
lecturers. A typical undergraduate programme in Indonesian universities requires
students to complete 140–160 credits to receive the baccalaureate degree. So a
lecturer typically has to teach 5–6 courses per year. There are typically more than
100 students in a class. Most university-based research institutes usually carry
out projects whose funding comes from government agencies, such as the Policy
Research and Development Agency (BPPK, Badan Pengkajian dan Pengembangan
Kebijakan) of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Deplu, Departemen Luar Negeri).
The research done here is primarily policy rather than academically oriented,
because there is practically no domestic funding for academic works.
There are not too many IR-specific think tanks, either. The most notable is
the Centre for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) based in Jakarta and
the publisher of Indonesia’s most high profile English language journal – The
Indonesian Quarterly. The journal, however, is not devoted solely to IR-related
topics and is a reflection of the fact that the CSIS is actually not an IR-specific
think tank. In fact, IR is just one of the three issue areas covered by the CSIS. The
others are economics, politics and social change. The think tanks are usually very
much issue-oriented. Many think tanks in Indonesia, such as the CSIS, CIDES, the
Habibie Center, the Indonesian Institute, Reform Institute, Akbar Tanjung Institute,
Wahid Institute, Soegeng Sarjadi Syndicate, Center for Indonesian Reform and
so forth focus primarily on domestic matters due to the salience of such issues

in contemporary Indonesia and correspondingly the promise of better funding.
The nature of think tanks in Indonesia also does not support academic enterprise.
Many, if not all, Indonesian think tanks were either established by political figures
or hold a certain political orientation. While this phenomenon is not uncommon in
many other parts of the world, it does mean that purely academic works aimed at
theory-building that demand conceptual rigour are usually avoided.
The other factor that contributes to the lack of serious IR academic endeavour
in Indonesia is the absence of an IR epistemic community. There is currently no
professional association of IR scholars. The closest thing to one is the Indonesian
Association of Political Science (AIPI, Asosiasi Ilmu Politik Indonesia). But the
IR component in AIPI is very much overshadowed by overwhelming interests on
domestic politics. There is also an annual meeting of heads of IR departments. But
the issues discussed here are mostly about comparing curricula and other teaching
related matters. From time to time, IR scholars would meet at conferences
organized by Deplu, but the topics are understandably Indonesian foreign policy
oriented.
In addition to the lack of epistemic community, there is also practically no
incentive at all for the scholars to carry out theory-related studies. In fact, the lures
of practical politics, involvement in policy circles and media appearances are much
greater. There are only a handful of academic journals on IR. The most renowned
of which is probably Global, issued by UI’s IR department. But the readership
of this journal is very low in number, and the journal has to struggle just to keep
publishing. The financial and economic crisis that hit the country in 1997 also contributed
to the lack of academic writing. In a situation of meagre salaries, scholars
are pressured to publish in order to make additional income. The honorarium for
publishing in academic journals and in the print media is roughly similar, while the
effort is of course markedly different. As a result, there is no incentive for carrying
serious academic writing. There is even a critique for Indonesian academia, saying
that instead of making their doctorate degree as a start of an academic career, they
stop writing once they receive their doctorates, and start to enter politics or become
involved in policy circles or even become media personalities.
The above factors define the core themes covered by Indonesian IR researchers.
Most of the research themes usually follow the priorities of funding agencies,
domestic or international. The post-9/11 world has brought the attention of the
world to the issues of security and Islam. As the largest Muslim country in the
world, naturally some of these attentions have focused on Indonesia’s Islam. This
is also reflected in the increased amount of project funding on this topic, which in
turn has made this theme one of the main research themes in Indonesia, combining
international and domestic aspects. Related to that, the nexus between domestic and
regional security, usually related to the issues of illegal logging, human trafficking
and terrorism, has also become one of the most popular topics.
The curricula of various IR educational institutions have actually shown much
improvement during the last few years. During the 1970s until much of the 1990s,
the discussion on IR theory in classes usually revolved around the so-called first
and second debates in the discipline, that between realism and liberalism, and

between the legal-institutional approach and behaviouralism. With the return of
many lecturers from graduate studies in Western universities at the end of the
1990s and early 2000s, the curricula became more updated. It is not uncommon,
nowadays, to find students’ papers and discussions on the topics such as postmodernism
and constructivism. However, most of the literature used usually comes
from Western textbooks and journals. The effort to locate indigenous sources for IR
thinking does not seem to attract a great deal of attention both in and outside of the
educational institutions. The IR department at UI offers a single week on discussion
on ‘International Relations Thoughts in Indonesia: Soekarno, Hatta, Sutan Syahrir’
in the course of ‘Introduction to International Relations’. But there is no discussion
on non-Western traditions in the course ‘International Relations Theory’ taught in
two semesters at the same department (Jurusan HI FISIP UI 1996).33
Concluding puzzle: why then the absence of an Indonesian
IR theory when there are rich potential sources to be tapped?
Indonesia as a nation-state positions itself within the international community by
adopting different roles in different cultural or political contexts, all of which are
central to its identity. These roles are inspired and given substance by indigenous
traditions which have informed Indonesian international relations thinking.
However, they are not coherently articulated by the Indonesian academic community
for a variety of reasons, namely weak institutional structures in Indonesian
IR departments, lack of physical resources like libraries and the lack of a viable
incentive structure through proper funding and recognition of research, resulting
in IR-trained scholars gravitating to topics more pertinent to domestic affairs.
Furthermore, diminishing written English language skills may also be a factor
explaining the predominance of Western scholars writing on Indonesian foreign
policy.
Nevertheless, our exercise in ‘pre-theory’ is a first cut at attempting to glean
from the long established body of literature on Indonesian studies the sources of
IR thinking and the possibility of multiple identities influencing IR thinking. This
exercise serves not only the purposes of this book being ‘a systematic attempt to
generalize about the subject matter or IR’ but captures the possibility that international
relations thinking operates within differing conceptual frameworks in
Indonesia. If realism is the only IR theory that matters, then the obvious conclusion
is that the Indonesian case does not count. Yet, are such perspectives pragmatic
considering the fact that the Republic of Indonesia is the world’s fourth most
populous country, the largest democracy in the Islamic world, geo-strategically
Southeast Asia’s most significant state and having been the driving force behind
the formation of one of the world’s most enduring regional institutions – ASEAN?
For purposes of practical policy determined by contingencies surrounding the ‘War
on Terror’, the relevance of Indonesia as a voice of reason in the Islamic world will
continue to grow enabling it to fulfil its role as a ‘pivotal state’, a point of view
promoted in an influential study on US foreign policy (Chase et al. 1999: 6, 934).
While social constructivist variables like identity, symbols, values, institutions and

norms have great explanatory value in elucidating Indonesian IR practice, to be relevant
for the Indonesian context constructivist approaches need to explain deviant
behaviour, specifically why culturally motivated realpolitik practice, particularly
the use of force, has been evident both in domestic and international affairs since
independence.35 In a sense, privileging parsimony, the hallmark of the Western
IR approach focusing solely on either rationalist explanations or constructivist
explanations may not capture the essence of the Indonesian approach to IR. As our
paper suggests, establishing the complex links between power, identity, interests
and norms in the Indonesian case may not be amenable to capture by any one paradigm
and may require eclectic theorizing particularly in contexts where theories
merge.36 Naturally this is a speculative essay but it is designed to explore a range
of possibilities on how the language of Indonesian statecraft can be employed for
domestic theorizing on the subject of international relations. It is a subject worthy
of more contextual research. However, at this juncture three observations should
suffice providing us a sense of factors that will continue to shape Indonesian thinking
on international relations.
First, Indonesia is the world’s largest Muslim country and demographically the
largest democracy in the Islamic world, thereby allowing it scope to conceive of
itself as a leader among Islamic nations. This role has generally been one of mediation,
of principled neutrality, that is intended to provide stability and moderation,
and to avoid extremism. However, this role is undergoing significant change in
concert with developments within the Islamic world. In Islamic intellectual and
socio-political circles there is a vigorous ongoing debate on the role of Islam in a
democratic and pluralist state. It is a domestic debate enframed within the context
of an Islamic resurgence prominent since the late 1980s particularly on the island
of Java (long known for its adherence to Islam fused with syncretistic beliefs)
influenced by a small but vociferous constituency of Muslims who view Islam as
a universalistic ideology. Such developments may have an important corollary:
namely, possible new directions in foreign policy. Certainly within Indonesia’s
new democracy a reassessment of the relationship between the secular nationalists
and Islamic nationalists and debates focused on the re-evaluation of Indonesia’s
Islamic identity, issues pertaining to the Jakarta Charter and its relationship with
the 1945 Constitution, and the meaning of the Pancasila (national ideology) could
become more pronounced in the new millennium. Significant normative concessions
to Islam have occurred, for example, relating to the introduction of a new
Education Bill and such developments are useful indications of Islam’s greater
bargaining power and influence in the evolving democratic nation-state structure
which characterizes post-Suharto Indonesia. Thus far, Indonesia has avoided having
an Islamic cast to its foreign policy. However, if Indonesia no longer adopts
conciliatory positions to issues of significance to the Islamic world, then such
changes in its international outlook will be the consequence of domestic factors
related to state formation in post-Suharto era, namely, changes in the religious
affiliation requirements of the political elite coupled by moves toward the implementation
of syariah law.
Second, since independence, Indonesia has also aspired to a major role in the

Non-Aligned Movement and over time this role has shifted from the radicalism
of the Sukarno era to the developmental orientation of the Suharto era and a significant
emphasis on democracy, anti-militarism and Islam during the reformasi
(reform) era. ASEAN presents yet another forum within which Indonesia regards
itself as the key player and stabilizing force. Perceptions of the international community
have therefore been formulated in terms not of competing nation-states
but rather of defined forums or blocs, in which it plays a more or less pivotal role.
Dealing with nations outside these blocs like the US, Russia, Japan or China is
more ambiguous. For example, China during the Suharto era was often viewed as
a threat, partly on the ground that it represents a rival civilization and ideology.
Within the blocs themselves Indonesia sees its own role to some extent in traditional
terms reminiscent not of territorial nation-states with clearly demarcated
borders, but of centres of foci which radiate power and prestige over larger or
smaller regions from one period to another. Indonesia is assumed to stand at the
centre, even of the Islamic world. This does not necessarily imply that Indonesia
is to be active in dominating policy making; rather it suggests a sense of playing a
dignified central role. In this regard, in relations with countries outside its specific
forums Indonesian behaviour seems relatively pragmatic. Indonesia’s occasional
irritations with Malaysia’s assertiveness are an indication of this sense of decorum.
So too is the way in which Indonesia seems satisfied with a type of mediating role
among Islamic countries. Indonesia expects recognition among Islamic nations as
the world’s largest Islamic country. This role has generally been one of relative
neutrality, a desire to avoid unnecessary involvement in irresolvable issues yet a
concern to provide mediation to avoid extremism. For the Javanese, the ultimate
end result of such intermandala relationships is the emergence of chakravatin or
in Javanese, prabu murbeng wisesa anyakrawati (world ruler). Such an ideal condition
refers to a ‘world empire, in which all political entities are combined in a
coherent unity, and ebb and flow of Power implied in a universe of multiple mandala
locked in conflict with one another (for a time) no longer exists’ (Moertono
in Anderson 1990: 45).
Third, the absence of support for Indonesian institutions and researchers working
in the field of international relations and a lack of necessary infrastructure and
funds to support IR teaching, coupled with the relatively low educational level
of lecturers, means the situation for IR research in Indonesia remains bleak and
ominous. Furthermore, the lack of IR theory research is due also to a preoccupation
with domestic issues among the think tanks on account of the possibility of greater
recognition and the availability of funds. Such a situation is unfortunate considering
the need for Indonesian IR scholars with their progressive Islamic backgrounds
to contribute constructively global and regional debates relating to the ‘War on
Terror’ in an era when Islam has achieved such a high profile. In such a context,
wouldn’t a project targeted at rebuilding and strengthening Indonesian research
capacity within the IR discipline for the purposes of facilitating the development
of Indonesian expertise on interpreting the evolving system of IR, its implications
for Indonesia and Indonesia’s role within it be a worthy cause to support?37 On the
question of an absence of an IR epistemic community, without the aid of further

fieldwork it is impossible to prove to what extent the dominance of the Western IR
paradigm is responsible for such a situation. However, there is a general perception
among the IR academic community in Indonesia that IR is a ‘western’ science, and
this point of view is taken for granted with local IR scholars seeing little reason to
question such interpretations. Unfortunately, such a situation has produced a sense
of alienation among IR scholars. The fact that so many Indonesian IR scholars
tend to veer towards analysis of domestic politics later in their careers is probably
symptomatic of this alienation.
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Notes
1 The authors would like to express gratitude to the following individuals who have
contributed to the development of ideas contained in this essay: Dr Rizal Sukma
of the Centre for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), Jakarta, Dr Makmur
Keliat of the Department of International Relations, University of Indonesia, Jakarta,
Dr Anak Agung Banyu Perwita, Dean of the Faculty of Social and Political Sciences,
Parahyangan Catholic University, Bandung and Dr Yanyan M. Yani of the Department
of International Relations, Padjadjaran University, Bandung. Adinda Tenriangke
Muchtar of the Indonesian Institute ably aided in collecting materials related to the
teaching of international relations in Indonesia and Sammy Kanadi of the S. Rajaratnam
School of International Studies assisted in the final editing of the chapter.
2 The doctrine of National Resilience enunciated through the use of carefully crafted
Sanskrit words consists of eight aspects of national life (Astagatra). Those aspects
are divided in two categories, namely three natural aspects (Trigatra) and five social
aspects (Pancagatra). The three natural aspects are geography, natural resources and
population. The five social aspects are ideology, politics, economy, social-culture and
defence-security.
3 While still evident in traditional Javanese thought, such dichotomies are less emphasized
in Indonesia since independence to stress the importance of Indonesian nationalism and
national unity.
4 Note the Javanese saying: Akek wong kang wedi kahanan perang, awit hokum kang
becik akeh kang ora kanggo, mula banjur wedi perang. Iku kabeh keliru, jalaran perang
iku uga kepingin mbelani kabeneran, meaning: Many are afraid of war, because in

war good rules are ignored. This is wrong because wars are also fought for truth. See
Sebastian 2006: 16.
5 Nearly half the people of Southeast Asia are Indonesian. The concentration of large
population clusters around a ruler was an undeniable indication of power, which in
turn revealed continuing possession of wahyu. A large population also meant a bigger
workforce for rice cultivation, which could result in economic surpluses and the presence
of manpower that could be tapped for building monuments and armies.
6 The family of Abdurrahman Wahid’s paternal grandfather Kyai Haji Hasyim Asy’ari
had claimed that they descended from the sixteenth-century Javanese King Brawijaya
VI. Brawijaya VI’s son Jaka Tingkit has been credited with introducing Islam to the
northeast coastal region of Java. Jaka Tingkit’s son Prince Banawa was known to have
renounced his royal privileges to become a recluse devoted to teaching Sufism. See
Barton 2002: 38.
7 On how military elite, especially those within Suharto’s inner circle, were deployed to
secure the regime’s interests, see Jenkins 1984.
8 In the words of Geertz, Java ‘has been civilized longer than England’.
9 The word ‘gusti’ is also used to refer to God, which signifies the deep reverence toward
the leaders.
10 Known as ‘pusaka’ or sacred things. These can be in the forms of certain kris (dagger),
spears, carriages, musical instruments etc.
11 Conflict in the world of the wayang kulit is not between good and bad but generally cast
in shades of black and white. More significant is the emphasis placed on those who are
spiritually developed versus spiritually underdeveloped.
12 The approximate meaning is ‘concealed personal motive’.
13 The classification of the Sundanese of West Java is rather difficult. Due to the historical
rivalry with the Javanese kingdoms, the Sundanese always insist that they are
non-Javanese. However, to classify them as Seberang is quite problematic, because the
extent of Hindu influence is equally extensive in the Sunda land as in Central and East
Java, especially in the eastern part where the courts of the old Sundanese kingdom of
Padjadjaran was located.
14 It is important to note here that some interior Seberang ethnic groups were still living
in a fairly simple, secluded style, and still practice certain kind of animist beliefs (usually
in combination with the practice of major religion, most notably Christianity).
This is especially true in Papua (Irian Jaya), as well as some ethnic groups in Sumatra,
Kalimantan and Sulawesi. Being situated in the margins of the country’s social and
political relations, they are relatively less significant in shaping up what is being considered
here as the Seberang political-culture.
15 The high level of influence of Hinduism in Bali shares many similarities in political
culture with the Javanese. Historically, the royal families of Bali originated from the
Majapahit court fleeing from Java during the power struggle with the Islamic sultanate
of Demak.
16 The variant of the language used as the lingua franca was the Melayu pasar (market
Malay). A different variant is used among the Malay aristocracy, which is a more stratified
one. But even the extent of stratification of the latter variant is not as complex as
the Javanese language.
17 The literal translation is ‘rude’. However, it may also be read as ‘uncivilized’.
18 More recently, there has been a speculation that Islam also came to Indonesia from
China, brought by some of the Muslim Chinese envoys, the most popular of whom
was Admiral Zheng He, and that it came directly to Java. However, such claims are
contentious and require verification.
19 The Western Protestant and Catholic missionaries, who later accompanied the traders,
converted the peoples in areas where Islamic influence was weak. Such peoples were
primarily the interior peoples of Sumatra, Kalimantan, Sulawesi and Papua, as well as
the coastal people of southern Maluku and the eastern part of the Lesser Sundas. Until

today, the Protestants and Catholics of Indonesia, who make up around 10 per cent of
the whole population, come primarily from these ethnic groups.
20 There were nine prominent wali, affectionately known to the Javanese as ‘Wali Songo’.
Each of these wali were said to possess supernatural abilities. Many stories surrounding
the wali and their proselytization efforts were imbued with tales of mysticism. These
myths, as well as the use of local folklore in conveying religious messages, greatly
facilitated the spread of Islam in Java, as the Javanese felt that they could relate easily
to the new religion.
21 The version of Islam that arrived in Southeast Asia might have been infused with Sufism
that had previously taken root in the subcontinent where it came from. This appeared
to facilitate its compatibility with local existing religions.
22 These consist of belief in one God – Allah, performing prayer five times daily, fasting
during the Ramadhan month, giving alms (zakat) according to Islamic law and performing
the Haj to Mecca if financially viable.
23 This means ‘red’. The term was introduced into academic circles by Geertz in ‘The
Religion of Java’. The term came from the colour of the cloth (actually the colour was
red earth) that these Javanese wore, as opposed to the white cloth worn by the more
pious Javanese Muslims (putihan).
24 After the failed communist coup in 1965, there was fervour for religions, partly induced
by the government. Hence all Indonesians had to declare faith in one of the five officially
recognized religions (Islam, Protestantism, Catholicism, Hinduism, Buddhism).
Most of the Javanese claimed Islam as their religion. However, in the 1970s, there was
a movement to get the Kejawen recognized as a religion. Later it was acknowledged
as the ‘Kepercayaan atas Tuhan Yang Maha Esa’ (belief in the one God). Although
it was not officially acknowledged as a religion, it acquired equal legal position with
the religions. For a concise account of Kejawen practices, see Koentjaraningrat 1975:
112–19.
25 The words and deeds of the Prophet Muhammad, which deal mainly with social and
political issues.
26 ‘Interpretation’ or ‘reinterpretation’ of the Islamic texts.
27 From this perspective, Michael Leifer’s ‘sense of regional entitlement’ came as a natural
result of the Javanese conception of leadership. Every Javanese leader would have
this sense of entitlement, for without it, he or she would not have become an effective
leader.
28 A policy derived from the changing external policies under Sukarno’s Guided
Democracy, which was an expression of Indonesian foreign bellicosity. It was a strategy
designed to daunt the Dutch in the West Irian campaign and the British in the Malayan
campaign through the use of diplomatic and military measures of intimidation.
29 For an analysis on the concepts NEFO and OLDEFO, see Weatherbee 1966.
30 As history has it, the selective education given to the indigenous population did not
actually halt the growth of self-determination sentiments. Like in many other colonial
societies, the struggle for independence was spearheaded by the intellectuals, products
of the colonial government’s education system. As a result, Indonesia’s founding
fathers were either engineers (like Sukarno), doctors (like the founders of the first
nationalist organization, Boedi Oetomo) or lawyers (like Hatta, the Republic’s first
vice president).
31 The statistics presented here are acquired from various publications published by the
Directorate General for Higher Education (Dirjen Dikti, Direktorat Jenderal Pendidikan
Tinggi) and Department of National Education (Depdiknas, Departemen Pendidikan
Nasional). Note that the year of data collection varies, but the most recent data available
is from 2005. NGOs are also not interested in foreign policy issues.
32 Building a career purely on international relations expertise generally results in poor job
prospects unless there are adequate avenues for consultancy work. In a country where the
basic salary for an academic is significantly low there is a need to combine scholarship

with supplementary consultancy-based income. Those specializing in international
relations theory or foreign policy analysis rarely get many opportunities to augment
their meagre salaries hence the majority will gravitate to the more lucrative fields of
domestic politics or development-related studies. If IR-trained scholars do write, they
invariably contribute to the mainstream press such as Kompas, Media Indonesia, Tempo,
Sinar Harapan, Republika and the English language daily The Jakarta Post where the
prospects for decent remuneration are better. As a consequence, the record is better and
there is a wide range of commentary available in the media on topics related to foreign
relations. The lack of incentive, particularly to publish in English has resulted in just
a handful of books published over the last decade by Indonesian-based scholars. The
most significant being: Anwar 1994; Djiwandono 1996; Djalal 1996; and Sukma’s
two books of 1999 and 2003. With the exception of Djalal, a former Foreign Ministry
official and currently President Yudhoyono’s spokesperson for international affairs, all
of the above scholars are based in think tanks. This is a sad indictment on the state of
university-based research on international relations in Indonesia.
33 Even the Indonesian language publication on IR theory published almost a decade ago
did not hint on any possibility of looking at indigenous sources for theorizing. The
articles in the publication merely reported the state of the art of IR discipline in the
West, and the possibility of the application of its theories for the Indonesian context.
34 A ‘pivotal state’ is a ‘geo-strategically important state to the United States and its allies’
and its importance is attributed to its ability not only to ‘determine the success or failure
of its region but also significantly affect international stability’. See Chase et al. 1999:
6, 9.
35 For an attempt to reconcile both rationalist and constructivist explanations in analysing
the sources of Indonesian military doctrine, see Sebastian 2006.
36 For the most substantial analysis on the subject of eclectic theorizing, see Katzenstein
and Okawara 2001: 153–85.
37 An audit of the international relations discipline in Indonesia similar to an initiative
embarked upon recently in China by the Ford Foundation would go some way to
addressing some of the problems highlighted in this paper and provide the way ahead in
terms of reinvigorating the field. See International Relations Studies in China: A Review of Ford Foundation Past Grantmaking and Future Choices (Anon 2002).

Source: Non-Western International Relations Theory Perspectives on and beyond Asia
Edited by Amitav Acharya and Barry Buzan

“Terrorism is an anxiety-inspiring method of repeated violent action, employed by (semi-) clandestine individual group or state actors, for idiosyncratic, criminal or political reasons, whereby—in contrast to assassination—the direct targets of violence are not the main targets. The immediate human targets of violence are generally chosen randomly (targets of opportunity) or selectively (representative or symbolic targets) from a target population, and serve as message generators. Threat- and violence- based communication processes between terrorists (organization), (imperiled) victims, and main targets are used to manipulate the main target (audience(s)), turning it into a target of terror, a target of demands, or a target of attention, depending on whether intimidation, coercion, or propaganda is primarily sought.” (Schmid Alex P. and Albert J. Jongman. Political Terrorism, 1988, p. 28)

“Terrorism is illegal violence or threatened violence directed against human or nonhuman objects, provided that it: (1) was undertaken or ordered with a view to altering or maintaining at least one putative norm in at least one particular territorial unit or population: (2) had secretive, furtive, and/or clandestine features that were expected by the participants to conceal their personal identity and/or their future location; (3) was not undertaken or ordered to further the permanent defense of some area; (4) was not conventional warfare and because of their concealed personal identity, concealment of their future location, their threats, and/or their spatial mobility, the participants perceived themselves as less vulnerable to conventional military action; and (5) was perceived by the participants as contributing to the normative goal previously described (supra) by inculcating fear of violence in persons (perhaps an indefinite category of them) other than the immediate target of the actual or threatened violence and/or by publicizing some cause.” (Gibbs, “Conceptualization of Terrorism,” American Sociological Review 54, 3 (1989), p. 330)

“Criminal acts, including against civilians, committed with the intent to cause death or serious bodily injury, or taking of hostages, with the purpose to provoke a state of terror in the general public or in a group of persons or particular persons, intimidate a population or compel a government or an international organization to do or to abstain from doing any act.” (United Nations Security Council Resolution 1566 (2004))

Sumber: Compolitikos

Bagi para pengambil kebijakan Think Thanks merupakan sumber alternatif memecahkan persoalan yang harus segera dituntaskan namun dalam kerangka yang komprehensif.

Links yang menghimpun sekitar 200 Think Thanks di dunia dapat Anda lihat di sini

Sumber: www.wheretodoresearch.com/Think_Tanks.htm

As a home to more than 180 million Muslims, Indonesia is the largest Muslim country in the world. However, the identity of the Indonesian state has never been defined in terms of Islam. In fact, tension in hte relationship between Islam and hte state has been evident since Indonesia’s independence in August 1945 and this tension stems from the dilemma of a dual state identity as Indonesia defines itself as neither theocratic nor secular. This makes the role of Islam in Indonesian politics and foreign policy a complex one.

This work examines the origins of dual state identity and how it has affected the political dynamics in Indonesia, both in domestic and foreign policy. Although Islam is the majority religion in Indonesia, this book suggests tha contrary to what might be expected, Islam has not played a dominant role in the country’s post-independent politics and policy making. However, sicne the fall of military-backed Suharto’s government in May 1998, Islam has become a potent political force in Indonesia. With the revival of Islam, politics and policy-making in Indonesia has increasingly been subject to influences from political Islam. This book considers for hte first time whenter such influence has also been exerted upon the coutnry’s foreign policy. Rizal Sukma suggests that the role of Islam in foreignpolicy has always been as secondary one, arguing that the dilemma of dual identity and domestic weaknesses set the limits within which Islam can be expressed in foreign policy.

This book will provide a useful resource to all those with an interest in the role of Islam in International Politics as well as students of Asian and Religious studies.

Sources Internet
Read More

Sebuah bahan kajian mengenai posisi Indonesia dan tantangan ke depan terungkap dalam sebuah laporan dari Istana di Harian Kompas (18/3). Pangan, Energi dan Air dikatakan akan menggantikan perebutan sumber daya di masa datang menggantikan konflik agama, wilayah dan keamanan.

Menurut catatan cadangan minyak Amerika Serikat akan merupakan yang terbesar di abad ke-21 ini karena saat ini semua minyak di negeri Paman Sam ini dihemat secara besar-besaran. AS mengimpor minyak dari Timur Tengah sehingga penguasaan kawasan ini sampai sekarang menjadi salah satu ujung tombak politik luar negeri.

Berikut ini laporan Kompas:

Perubahan geopolitik dunia saat ini dan masa mendatang ditentukan oleh penguasaan terhadap pangan, energi, dan air bersih. Sumber konflik pada masa mendatang bukan lagi soal agama, wilayah, dan keamanan, melainkan penguasaan pangan, energi, dan air bersih.

Demikian disampaikan Presiden Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono saat membuka seminar internasional ”Indonesia Menuju 2025: Tantangan Geopolitik dan Keamanan dengan Fokus Sumber Daya Alam, Ekonomi, dan Energi” di Istana Negara, Jakarta, Rabu (17/3). Seminar digelar dalam rangka peringatan satu tahun Universitas Pertahanan Indonesia. Acara ini dihadiri Menteri Pertahanan Purnomo Yusgiantoro beserta para menteri lainnya.

”Menghadapi tantangan global masa kini dan masa datang, menurut saya, diperlukan kesadaran baru dan tanggung jawab bersama dari semua bangsa di dunia, dari seluruh umat manusia, termasuk kesediaan untuk membangun gaya hidup yang pro-keselamatan bumi, proplanet,” ujar Presiden Yudhoyono yang berbicara menggunakan catatan.

Selain itu, lanjut Presiden, diperlukan penguasaan dan penggunaan teknologi yang mampu mengatasi berbagai masalah global. Masalah global itu, antara lain, ketahanan pangan, energi, dan air serta ancaman yang tidak tradisional. Di sini dibutuhkan inovasi dari seluruh masyarakat dunia.

”Yang ketiga, diperlukan kerja sama dan kemitraan global yang lebih efektif, termasuk diperlukannya semacam koordinasi kebijakan dan collective actions (aksi-aksi bersama) yang dijalankan bersama,” ujar Presiden.

Terkait dengan sumber-sumber konflik di masa mendatang yang harus dicarikan jalan keluarnya untuk menghindari perbenturan-perbenturan, Presiden Yudhoyono menyatakan, setiap negara di dunia harus mencari solusinya secara damai. ”Jangan terlalu cepat dan terlalu mudah menggunakan kekuatan militer,” katanya.

Kalau itu terjadi, umat manusia akan kalah dua kali. ”Sudah kesulitan dalam mendapatkan sumber-sumber energi, pangan, dan air, ditambah dengan tragedi peperangan yang biasanya menimbulkan kesengsaraan dan kesulitan bagi umat manusia,” lanjut Presiden.

Sebelum menyampaikan pandangannya, Presiden Yudhoyono terlebih dahulu menjelaskan secara panjang lebar mengenai perubahan geopolitik dunia dan Indonesia. Presiden Yudhoyono juga menyebut dirinya sebagai salah satu dari pemimpin dunia yang akan mencoba melihat tantangan dunia pada 2025.

Pakar pertahanan

Purnomo Yusgiantoro mengatakan, seminar internasional itu digunakan untuk mempersiapkan generasi pemimpin dan pakar pertahanan yang modern dalam menghadapi tantangan masa depan.

Universitas Pertahanan Indonesia diprakarsai oleh mantan Menteri Pertahanan Juwono Sudarsono dan Panglima TNI. Peresmiannya dilakukan 11 Maret 2009 oleh Presiden Yudhoyono.

Menurut Purnomo, seminar yang berlangsung selama dua hari ini diharapkan mampu mencari jawaban tentang yang seharusnya dan bisa dilakukan Indonesia. Isu seperti itu adalah isu strategis yang diharapkan jawabannya bisa dihasilkan dari seminar itu. ”Sekarang pertanyaannya, kan, bagaimana caranya agar semua keterbatasan yang terjadi di masa mendatang itu tidak akan menjadi konflik yang kemudian berpengaruh pada masalah-masalah keamanan,” ujar Purnomo. (dwa/har)

The stakes are high, for Indonesia is the key to Southeast Asian security. The authors examine the trends and dynamics that are driving Indonesia’s transformation, outline possible strategic futures and their implications for regional stability, and identify options the United States might pursue in the critical challenge of influencing Indonesia’s future course.

Steps the United States might take now include support for Indonesia’s stability and territorial integrity, reestablishment of Indonesian-U.S. military cooperation and interaction, aid in rebuilding a constructive Indonesian role in regional security, and support for development of a regional crisis reaction force. A continued strong U.S. presence in the Asia-Pacific region will reinforce the U.S. role as regional balancer.

Other review:
From http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m0PBZ/is_4_83/ai_109268892/

Indonesia’s Transformation and the Stability of Southeast Asia is a report the RAND Corporation prepared for the U.S. Air Force to assess the rapid changes occurring in Indonesia and to recommend policies to the U.S. Government and the Air Force in response. The book is an excellent introduction to the complex situation that followed the end of the Suharto regime. Although its depth of coverage is rather limited by its length, it includes numerous footnotes and an extensive bibliography, which covers five pages and includes numerous academic papers, periodical articles, and reports from international conferences. Sources come not only from the Western world but also from Indonesia itself. This breadth of coverage improves the quality of Angel Rabasa’s and Peter Chalk’s summary and provides a valuable source for anyone seeking to further investigate the subject.

The report begins with a succinct summary of the situation in Indonesia through 2001 and includes the growing pains of the post-Suharto political system; the conflict and United Nations intervention in East Timor; and the separatist pressures in several provinces. This summary also provides several recommendations that focus on improving the country’s stability and regional influence and U.S. Air Force policies toward Indonesia. The summary concludes with a caveat recommending that the Air Force continue to prepare for the worst-case scenario of complete Indonesian collapse. The remainder of the report elaborates on the points that the initial summary contains.

The publication also includes chapters detailing Indonesia’s regional significance; its recent and future challenges; and opportunities for U.S. influence. Each chapter effectively presents its subject matter and is well documented, allowing the report to serve as a useful introductory publication to the region and a guide to further research.

The only real criticism one might level against the report is its tone. In an attempt to achieve currency and relevance in 2001, Rabasa and Chalk chose to write in a journalistic style, which makes the piece read much like a long article in a current periodical. While this approach might have been effective in 2001, today it reads like old news. Despite this shortcoming, the authors effectively summarize a complex situation in a relatively short space. Therefore this report remains of value to the military professional as an introduction to the region and as a comprehensive bibliography.

LCDR Kyle B. Beckman, USN, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas

Source: Google books

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Cita-cita pendiri negeri ini adalah Indonesia yang kuat, sejahtera, makmur dan damai. Sebuah cita-cita universal setiap negeri yang ada di muka bumi. Dalam perjalanannya lebih dari setengah abad ternyata banyak yang berubah, banyak kendala dan banyak tantangan.

Semuanya tidak seindah apa yang tertulis.

Dengan insiden tindak terorisme yang merupakan imbas dari globalisasi dan demokrasi. Globalisasi semakin mendekatkan Indonesia dengan negara-negara di luar termasuk Timur Tengah. Kekerasan di Palestina, Irak dan Afghanistan terasakan sampai di Indonesia.

Globalisasi informasi ini menyebabkan pengaruh luar negeri semakin dekat dengan pelosok tanah air. Seolah-olah tidak ada satu inci wilayahpun di Indonesia tak tertembus aliran informasi dunia.

Oleh karena itu agar Indonesia memiliki soliditas yang tinggi, tidak hanya ideologi yang harus kuat tetapi juga sumber daya manusia di tataran penyelenggara neger, para tokoh dan masyarakat itu sendiri.
Kelemahan di jajaran petinggi negara -misalnya karena korup – akan memperlemah jalannya pemerintahan.

Kualitas sumber daya manusia inilah yang seharusnya menjadi fokus dalam pembangunan Indonesia kini dan mendatang. Manusia yang jujur, berwawasan dan melihat ke depan akan menjadi modal utama dibandingkan hanya sekedar menciptakan orang-orang cerdas, pintar dan memiliki pengetahuan yang luas.

Pengetahuan yang luas kalau tidak disertai karakter tidak banyak manfaatnya. Buktinya banyak orang cerdas bergelar di Indonesia namun kurang penghargaan kepada mereka yang memiliki komitmen untuk mengelola Tanah Air dengan tulus. Indonesia masih memberi tempat kepada mereka yang memiliki pengetahuan cerdas dan luas tetapi bermental korup. Semakin banyak orang seperti ini menduduki kursi birokrasi dan profesional di suprastruktur semakin sulit menjadikan Indonesia yang kuat.

Dalam sejarah kebangsaan, bangsa berkarakter itulah yang akan memenangkan persaingan tingkat global. Efisiensi dan efektivitas merupakan kunci manajerial tetapi kejujuran, komitmen dan integritas pribadi merupakan modal luar biasa pentingnya.

Saatnya menciptakan Indonesia yang kuat dan bersatu dengan mencanangkan pendidikan ahlak, integritas dan kejujuran menjadi pilar dari pembangunan abad ke-21.

In this thoroughly revised reader, two leading scholars bring together a collection of readings that highlight the most important trends in urban scholarship today. The engaging selections incorporated into American Urban Politics in the Global Era are arranged and presented within a clear thematic structure and with commentaries by the editors.

In addition to the political economy perspective emphasized in previous editions of the reader, this new edition highlights the impact of globalization on urban politics and policy today. The historical and contemporary readings reveal how the interaction of local, national, and international forces is reshaping the political landscape of urban America.

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Contents

Introductory Essay: Governing the Metropolis in the Global Era

PART 1: GLOBALIZATION AND THE ECONOMIC IMPERATIVE

Chapter 1. The Politics of Urban Development

Editors’ Essay. Entrepreneurial Cities

1 Paul E. Peterson, The Imperative of Growth

2 Clarence N. Stone, Urban Regimes

3 Richard C. Wade, The Urban Frontier

4 [NEW] Mark Alan Lowes, Indy Dreams and Urban Nightmares

Chapter 2. Cities in the International Marketplace

Editors’ Essay. The New Urban Economy

5 [NEW] H.V. Savitch and Paul Kantor, The Great Transformation and Local Choices

6 Richard Foglesong, When Disney Comes to Town

7 Paul Kantor and H.V. Savitch, Can Politicians Bargain with Business?

Chapter 3. The Political Economy of Urban Culture

Editors’ Essay. Cultural Strategies of Urban Development

8 [NEW] Richard Florida, The Power of Place: The Creative Class

9 Elizabeth Strom, Culture, Art, and Downtown Development

10 [NEW] Alison Isenberg, Downtown Culture

PART 2: GOVERNING THE MULTI-ETHNIC METROPOLIS

Chapter 4. The Cities: The Politics of Space, Race, and Ethnicity

Editors’ Essay. The Cities: Confrontation and Accommodation

11 Thomas J. Sugrue, Racial Confrontation in Post-War Detroit

12 Reuel Rogers, Minority Groups and Coalitional Politics

13 Harvey K. Newman, Race and the Tourist Bubble

Chapter 5. The Suburbs: The Politics of Space, Race, and Ethnicity

Editors’ Essay. Immigration and Seclusion in the New Suburbia

14 [NEW] Andrew Ross, Kinder, Gentler Government?

15 Rosalyn Baxandall and Elizabeth Ewen, New Immigrants in Suburbia

16 [NEW] Eric Avila, Fear and Fantasy in Suburban Los Angeles

17 Dolores Hayden, Planning Suburban Development: The Rise of the Mall

Chapter 6. The New Politics of Space

Editors’ Essay. Fear and the Privatization of Urban Space

18 Mike Davis, Fortress Los Angeles

19 [NEW] Margaret Kohn, The Mauling of Public Space

20 [NEW] Peter Marcuse, Life in the Cities After September 11, 2001

21 [NEW] Dennis R. Judd, Visitors and Spatial Ecology of the City

PART 3: GOVERNING THE FRACTURED METROPOLIS

Chapter 7. Sprawl, Regionalism and the New Urbanism

Editors’ Essay. Governing the Sprawled Metropolis

22 Myron Orfield, Building Consensus

23 [NEW] David Rusk, Growth Management: The Core Regional Issue

24 Fred Siegel, Is Urban Sprawl a Problem?

25 Dolores Hayden, The New Urbanism

Chapter 8. Federal-City Relations and the Capacity to Govern

Editors’ Essay. City Politics in a Decentralized Federal System

26 Peter Eisenger, City Politics in the Era of Devolution

27 Pietro S. Nivola, Federal Prescriptions and City Problems

28 [NEW] Stephen D. Stehr, The Political Economy of Disaster Assistance

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Features

* Each chapter is introduced by an editor’s essay that places the readings into context and highlights their central ideas and findings.

* Division into three historical periods emphasizes both the changes and continuities in American urban politics over time.

* The reader is the perfect complement for Judd & Swanstrom’s City Politics: The Political Economy of Urban American, 6/e, also available in a new edition.

From http://www.pearsoned.co.uk/Bookshop/detail.asp?item=100000000252386