“I want people to stop demonizing my belief, your religion arrives last to Nusantara and you can’t demonize the hosts’ beliefs.”
— Pancasona, a practitioner
Growing up in a prominent Muslim household, I was expected to adhere to the morals and values of a devout Muslim. It was the norm that I would think and behave in accordance with the principles of Islam. Throughout my twelve years in public school, religious studies were compulsory and tailored to each student’s respective faith. Perhaps due to the limitations imposed on my choices, I quietly began to explore and educate myself about other religions.
My initial exposure to Kejawen, a Javanese religious tradition, occurred through movies, particularly local horror films. Unlike the six major religions acknowledged through their festivals or inclusion in the school curriculum, Kejawen stood out as unfamiliar to me. This prompted me to contemplate the diversity of religious beliefs present in Indonesia. I couldn’t help but wonder how these communities perceive their faith within the context of the six main religions officially recognized by the government.
During this period of exploration and learning, I became aware of the underlying, and sometimes overt, discrimination against religions other than Islam. Furthermore, local religions and beliefs suffered a particularly unfortunate fate, as they were not integrated into Indonesia’s bureaucratic system. Indonesia’s constitution– Undang-Undang Dasar Negara Republik Indonesia Tahun 1945 or UUD 1945 for short– Article 29 guarantees the freedom of religion, stating:
“The state is based on the belief in the One Supreme God, and guarantees the freedom of every inhabitant to adhere to their respective religion and to worship according to their religion and beliefs.”
Several other articles address matters related to religion. Including Article 28I which ensures the protection of religious freedom and the freedom to worship, Article 28J which recognizes cultural and religious diversity ensuring their preservation and development, and even Article 32 which specifies that the government must uphold and protect the rights of indigenous peoples and their customary laws, which may include religious practices. At present, Indonesia formally recognizes six major religions: Islam, Protestantism, Catholicism, Hinduism, Buddhism, and Confucianism, each enjoying a formalized status under the law. However, amidst this acknowledgment lies a pertinent question: what about the local beliefs and indigenous practices that fall outside these recognized religions? How are they treated within Indonesia’s legal and societal framework?
The issue of unacknowledged local beliefs raises concerns about inclusivity, cultural preservation, and religious freedom. Indonesia, with its rich tapestry of diverse cultures and traditions, encompasses numerous indigenous practices and local belief systems deeply rooted in its history and heritage. Yet, the official recognition of only six religions leaves many of these indigenous practices in a precarious position. This disparity in recognition raises broader questions about Indonesia’s commitment to religious pluralism and cultural diversity. Shouldn’t a nation as culturally rich and diverse as Indonesia strive to embrace and protect all forms of religious and spiritual expression, regardless of whether they fit within the confines of officially recognized religions?
Kottak (2011) suggests that religion, as a cultural phenomenon, is a universal concept that encompasses both belief and behavior related to supernatural entities, powers, and forces. Additionally, religion encompasses the emotional and communal aspects associated with these beliefs and behaviors. Anthropological research has shed light on various facets and roles of religion in society. In times of uncertainty or when conventional methods prove ineffective, individuals may resort to magic as a means of exerting control. Magic often serves as a recourse when people feel powerless over outcomes. Furthermore, religion provides solace and psychological reassurance during times of crisis.
Within this context, Kejawen emerges as a unique spiritual tradition rooted in ancient Javanese society, emphasizing internal spiritual exploration over external religious rituals. Kejawen is defined as a collection of spiritual customs and convictions originating from ancient Javanese society (Salim, 2013). Numerous Western scholars have referred to it as ‘Javanese mysticism’, emphasizing its focus on internal rather than external manifestations of religious devotion. Kejawen’s teachings provide a mystical interpretation of religion and spirituality, often existing outside formal religious institutions. Comparable to other profound esoteric traditions such as Sufism, Christian mysticism, and Jewish Kabbalah, Kejawen emphasizes a profound contemplation of the essence of religion, symbolized by a state of unity or harmony with the divine and the cosmos.
Kejawen’s teaching does not deal with the debate of how to worship; instead, it discusses the similarity of the fundamental principles of all religions. In its teaching, Kejawen encourages self-observation of the mind, which allows one to study the inward psychological problems of human thinking and feeling (Wasisto, 2021).
The interpretation and application of Kejawen vary depending on individual beliefs, groups, and cultural contexts. Some practitioners integrate Hindu teachings into their Kejawen beliefs, while others incorporate Buddhist principles, and others incorporate Islamic elements. For example, a Kejawen practitioner residing in Yogyakarta might employ Islamic terminology to elucidate their teachings. This inclination towards Islamic terminology is influenced by the prevalence of Islamic vocabularies in Yogyakarta, stemming from the historical dominance of Islamic kingdoms in the region since the 14th century.
What sets Kejawen apart is its inherent flexibility. Its notions of divinity and rituals can seamlessly integrate with the six major religions. Additionally, Kejawen practices are notably less rigid compared to, for instance, Abrahamic rituals. This leads to the question: why does Kejawen, as a local or indigenous faith, often find itself marginalized in favor of ‘imported’ beliefs from abroad? What motivates individuals to gravitate towards religions that offer less flexibility and room for interpretation, rather than embracing one as adaptable as Kejawen? Why do we Indonesian people tend to demonize local beliefs and even consider them as cultish?
“The demonization of Kejawen initially stems from the use of the term ‘shirk’ in Islam. Because we respect nature differently, offering ‘sesajen’ (offerings) to honor nature is often misconstrued as worshipping the place where we place the offerings.” Pancasona (fake alias), a long-time practitioner of Kejawen with more than a decade of experience, shared their perspective when I inquired about the perception of Kejawen as a cult-like belief. Raised within a family that adhered to Kejawen traditions, she became deeply familiar with its religious practices. As she matured, Pancasona revealed their inclination to maintain their Kejawen beliefs.
Pancasona, from the lens of a practitioner, highlighted several misconceptions in the public understanding of Kejawen. According to her, Kejawen is one of the local beliefs that won’t lead to fanaticism because it lacks specificity. There are no sets of rules that are overly strict, which could foster radicalism. Without constraints, the essence of Kejawen is to promote goodness in humanity, without imposing excessive demands. In contrast, Abrahamic religions, she believes, come with specific demands and strict sets of rules that can lead to radicalism. “Kejawen has fallen victim to misconceptions. It emphasizes more spirituality (‘kebatinan’) while Abrahamic religions lean more towards practices and rituals that are reflected in their set of rules.”
This led me to ponder the million-dollar question: who should bear responsibility for perpetuating the stereotypical imagery associated with discussions about Kejawen? Who exactly crafted the cult-like perception surrounding local religious beliefs? “I would attribute a significant portion of this imagery to the media,” Pancasona remarked. In Indonesian horror movies, there is a prevalent trend of using Javanese culture as a source of fear. Films like Mangkujiwo (2020), Keramat (2022), and Tembang Lingsir (2019) are among many examples that incorporate elements of Kejawen, Javanese rituals, and culture to evoke suspense. However, these aspects are often misrepresented as witchcraft. In many cases, characters either combat the supernatural using Kejawen practices or rely on Islamic rituals for protection. Unfortunately, this portrayal has led to the association of Kejawen and Javanese culture with witchcraft, contributing to an unnecessary stigma and fear surrounding Kejawen.
“Despite the government’s passing of the court ruling in 2016, allowing individuals to identify themselves as adherents of ‘Penganut Kepercayaan’ if they wish, people still tend to equate Kejawen with witchcraft.” Pancasona was referring to the Constitutional Court Decision Case Number 97/PUU-XIV/2016, which stipulates that individuals have the right to freely choose and practice their beliefs, and followers of certain faiths or beliefs can indicate their affiliation in the religion column of their Family Card (KK) and Electronic Identity Card (KTP-el).
“The constitution is supposed to be inclusive, isn’t it? But, honestly, when you read it again, it has never been truly inclusive from the start. How can it be that we limit recognition to only six religions when we have over hundreds of ethnic groups?” remarked Faqih, a student at the University of Indonesia, in response to my inquiry about Indonesia’s laws regarding religions. “This allows for the creation of stigmas. It’s as if anything outside of those six religions is deemed cultish, when in reality, Kejawen has existed here much longer than six of them. It’s a very political matter.” he added. In addition to Faqih’s remark, Pancasona admitted that she adopted the term “Muslim” to ease bureaucratic matters and their social life due to the stigma that revolves around their belief.
The discourse surrounding Kejawen illuminates broader issues of religious diversity, cultural preservation, and societal perceptions. As practitioners like Pancasona navigate their identities within a system that often fails to fully recognize their beliefs, questions arise about inclusivity and representation in Indonesia’s legal and social frameworks. The intersection of religion, media portrayal, and governmental policy underscores the complexities of religious freedom and societal acceptance. It beckons for a reevaluation of perceptions and a commitment to honoring the rich tapestry of beliefs that contribute to Indonesia’s cultural heritage. Only through genuine recognition, understanding, and respect can Indonesia truly embrace its diversity and foster an environment where all religious practices are valued and protected.
References
Geertz, C. (1976). The Religion of Java (Phoenix Books). University of Chicago Press.
Kottak, C. P. (2011). Cultural Anthropology: Appreciating Cultural Diversity. McGraw-Hill.
Salim, A. (2013). Javanese religion, Islam or syncretism: comparing Woodward’s Islam in Java and Beatty’s Varieties of Javanese Religi on. Indonesian Journal of Islam and Muslim Societies, 3(2), 223.
Wasisto, M. A. (2021, July). Reflecting on Kejawen: Javanese Esoteric Teachings in Indonesian National Development. Udayana Journal of Law and Culture, 5, 96–118. https://doi.org/10.24843/UJLC.2021.v05.i02.p01
