The wages of religious chauvinism

The Z-Factor

I grew up in Indonesia in the 1990s, when President Suharto’s long-running military dictatorship was being torn down by the Asian financial crisis and a series of secessionist movements.

In the aftermath of that revolution, Indonesia embarked on an ambitious quest for liberal democracy, unusual in the Muslim world. That effort, even more remarkably, was led by an enlightened clergy which championed a more syncretic, liberal form of Islam.

At the forefront of the movement was the partially blind but indomitable cleric-turned-President, Abdurrahman Wahid, who led what was possibly the world’s largest Islamic organisation at the time with a whopping 40 million members — the Nahdatul Ulama. As President, the famously pious Wahid once participated in prayers at a Hindu temple in Bali where he had spent several months studying Hindu philosophy.

Unsurprisingly, the movement was immensely successful. In the aftermath of 9/11, Indonesia — and others like it in the non-Arab world — led a monumental mission to rescue the Islamic faith from the cesspool of Arab identity politics that was dragging Islam’s tenets through the mud.

All that now feels like a generation ago. Early this month, under its populist President Joko Widodo, Indonesia passed several controversial criminal laws — expanding the ambit of blasphemy, targeting the LGBT community, policing extramarital sex, and outlawing criticism of the President.

Widodo had tried to pass a similar law in 2019 and failed after Indonesians mobilised in intimidating numbers against him. But this time, he blindsided them by rushing it hastily through parliament when no one was looking.

To be fair, Indonesia isn’t the only country suffering from convulsions of religious chauvinism. In Israel, millions now fear the vengeful return of the long-serving former Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

Netanyahu had been deposed not too long ago by a broad coalition on an anti-corruption campaign. This time, Netanyahu is looking to counter those allegations by adopting strident Zionism — and he is backed by far-right extremists whose views are considered too vicious even by the country’s own relatively hawkish army.

Meanwhile, evangelists in the US and neo-Nazis in Europe are making common cause with Russia’s self-proclaimed religious war against Western liberalism. This month, Germany uncovered a terrorist plot to overthrow its government, which included a former parliamentarian and army officers. Among those arrested was a Russian woman to whom Moscow has since pledged legal assistance.

In India, Hinduism has long been under attack from Hindu nationalists who seek to use it as a weapon against religious minorities.

Even Buddhism has not escaped unscathed. In Myanmar, previously pacifist monks are leading a brutal assault that began with the genocide of Rohingya Muslims and has now culminated in a ceaseless civil war engulfing the whole nation.

The problem with religious nationalism is that it’s a self-propelling vicious cycle. As one community gets more assertive and fundamentalist, others follow in apparent self-defence until human rights collapse everywhere. Perceived slights against one’s religious sensibilities lead to political support for radicals.

It’s tempting at this point to deride all religion as a tool for division. But the truth is that if the world did away with religion, it would invent other ways to divide and conquer.

What Wahid taught Indonesians is that religion can also be a driver of humanism and empathy, provided it is understood properly through introspection, soul-searching and inter-faith dialogue. “Failure to understand the true nature of Islam permits the continued radicalisation of Muslims worldwide,” he wrote in 2005, “while blinding the rest of humanity to a solution which hides in plain sight.”

Wahid’s lessons could apply today to almost every major faith.