In the fall of 2022, I had the opportunity to partake in a discourse organized by my classmates, during which I delivered a lecture for our Muslim Political Thought course. The focus of the lecture was the role of the madrassa within the Muslim society of the subcontinent, starting from the arrival of Islam there and exploring the ensuing frictions between Muslims and Non-Muslims in that region.
Subsequently, I was asked by several audience members about Geertz’s theory of Muslim Java. I endeavored to give a comprehensive explanation of Geertz’s trichotomies of Muslim Java, including some personal critiques. Herein, I will revisit my criticisms of Geertz’s trichotomies.
The title of this piece might prompt the question: why have I chosen to write about “Muslim Java” rather than “Javanese Religion,” as Geertz does in his book? There are two main reasons for this.
First, Java has been Islamized for centuries, specifically from the sixteenth century till the present day. Hence, in any discussion about the Javanese people, it is essential to note that they have adopted Islam at various levels: as a new identity, a new belief, or both.
Secondly, there are only a small number of Non-Muslims left in Java, with a large portion of them having migrated to Bali Island during the decline of the Hindu kingdoms and the rise of Javanese Islamic kingdoms. Therefore, my choice to write about Muslim Java, rather than Javanese Culture, is based on historical and demographic considerations.
The next question that arises is: Can Geertz’s trichotomies of Muslim Java be considered credible from the perspective of Santri? To address this, counterarguments must be put forth.
First, Geertz posits that religion is linked to political and social class. He describes the Abangan as rural farmers with little political and social standing, Santri as local traders with varying degrees of political and social influence, and Priyayi as bureaucrats who have inherited their status from the Dutch colonial era.
However, Geertz’s classifications are oversimplified and misleading. He juxtaposes Abangan’s religious affairs with Mutihan, positions Santri associated with Kiai as adversaries of Santri associated with Ki, and sets Priyayi against Wong Cilik in terms of political and social standing. This lack of clarity results in confusion surrounding these three classifications.
Second, Geertz characterizes Muslim Java as an amalgam of different traditions, including Animism, Hinduism, and later, Islam, which he argues evolved into a form of syncretism. However, this assertion is erroneous. What actually transpired was not a reconciliation of these traditions, but a process of settlement. Islam is a religion that allows for cultural flexibility; it is not Arab-centric. As a Santri, I am reminded of the oft-quoted phrase from the Kiai in Pesantren: Islam (shaalih likulli zamaan wa-l-makaan).
Ever since Geertz conducted his study on Java’s religion, scholars have continued to examine his findings, leading to a range of interpretations, both supportive and critical. While his concept of trichotomy has stirred debate among scholars, it is vital to acknowledge that Geertz’s conceptualization of Muslim Java has profoundly influenced the study of Indonesian Islam.
Subsequent studies on Muslim Java have continued in the wake of Geertz’s research. Despite the controversies his trichotomy has sparked among scholars, his work remains a seminal reference in Indonesian Islam studies.
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