Jakarta 鈥� As time goes by, I increasingly feel that memories of Idul Fitri are slowly fading. It no longer feels as joyful as it did in childhood, when the holiday was truly special: new clothes bought only once a year, traditional dishes prepared together as a family, visits from relatives with small gifts of cash, all鈥憂ight wayang kulit performances, night markets, and crowded local tourist attractions. Idul Fitri was not just a religious holiday; it was a social event eagerly awaited throughout the year.

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Changing Memories of Lebaran

I still remember how my family prepared madumongso, a sweet delicacy made from fermented sticky rice cooked with coconut milk and palm sugar. The process was long and required patience: black glutinous rice was cooked, mixed with yeast, left to ferment into tape, then cooked again until it turned reddish. Stirring the mixture was no easy task; if it wasn鈥檛 done evenly, the madumongso would harden and become difficult to eat, sometimes even needing to be chopped with a wooden mallet. In addition, various traditional snacks such as chicken feet, telinga gajah (鈥渆lephant ears鈥�), and tai kucing (鈥渃at droppings鈥�), named for their shapes, were also prepared days in advance.

This tradition of cooking together is now gradually disappearing. Many families prefer to buy ready鈥憁ade food. High social mobility has scattered family members across different cities, making it difficult to gather and cook together as in the past. Slowly, Idul Fitri has lost some of the strong sense of togetherness that once defined it.

Changes are also evident in the tradition of sungkeman. After the Idul Fitri prayer at a mosque or open field, people would typically visit older relatives. Homes were open to guests, and greetings and requests for forgiveness were delivered face to face, with respect and warmth.

Today, in the digital era, this tradition has undergone a major transformation. Idul Fitri greetings no longer need to be conveyed in person. Written messages, voice notes, or videos can be sent in seconds. Many people simply copy and paste the same message to multiple recipients. It is practical and efficient, but often lacks a personal touch.

Replies tend to follow the same pattern. Messages received are answered with identical templates. Communication becomes faster, but also feels colder. Still, technology opens the possibility for broader connections without limits of time and distance. People can stay in touch even when far apart.

My child, who is growing up in Jakarta, often asks, 鈥淲hat should I say during sungkeman?鈥� This question arises because he observes different responses from older generations. Some reply briefly; others respond at length with prayers and advice. There is no fixed formula for sungkeman. Everyone expresses it according to their own understanding and intention.

Some see sungkeman as a social tradition meant to strengthen family bonds. The word lebaran is sometimes interpreted as 鈥渇inished,鈥� the end of conflicts or unresolved issues. By asking for and granting forgiveness, everything is considered settled. Others emphasize the religious dimension, viewing Idul Fitri as a spiritual moment marking the completion of Ramadan.

Idul Fitri greetings themselves vary. In the Arab world, expressions such as 鈥淓id Mubarak, taqabbalallahu minna wa minkum鈥� emphasize the hope that one鈥檚 worship will be accepted by God. In Indonesia, phrases like 鈥淢inal 鈥榓idin wal faizin鈥�, accompanied by 鈥渕ohon maaf lahir dan batin鈥� (lit. forgive my physical and emotional wrongdoings), have become popular. Although their origins are not entirely clear, these expressions have become part of Indonesia鈥檚 Idul Fitri culture.

Ultimately, whatever is said during Idul Fitri carries positive meaning. Whether as a spiritual prayer or a social expression, it reflects how the holiday serves as a meeting point between religion and culture.

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The Social and Cultural Meaning of Idul Fitri

Idul Fitri has not only a religious dimension but also a powerful social one. It becomes a space where people from different backgrounds come together, where social boundaries seem to dissolve in an atmosphere of shared celebration. Traditions of visiting, sharing food, and renewing relationships make Idul Fitri a unique moment of social cohesion.

In Indonesia, this social dimension is particularly evident. Lebaran is not merely a family celebration, but also a wider opportunity for social reconciliation. Tensions and conflicts that may have accumulated throughout the year are softened through the tradition of mutual forgiveness, allowing social relationships to be renewed in a warmer spirit.

This phenomenon shows that religion functions not only as a belief system but also as a social mechanism that strengthens solidarity. Idul Fitri becomes a moment when spiritual values, such as sincerity, empathy, and compassion鈥攁re translated into tangible social practices.

Amid diversity, Idul Fitri serves as a point of convergence. All groups celebrate it together. Riyaya functions as a social mechanism that erases divisions and strengthens a sense of togetherness. For Geertz, the power of Idul Fitri lies in its ability to unite a diverse society. It is not only a religious event but also a social one that reinforces collective identity.

In Indonesia鈥檚 plural context, this meaning is increasingly relevant. Idul Fitri reminds us that differences are not reasons for division, but strengths that complement one another.

Times may change the form of the celebration, but its core meaning remains the same. Idul Fitri is about returning, returning to purity, returning to good relationships with others, and returning to fundamental human values.

In a world that is increasingly fast鈥憄aced and individualistic, Idul Fitri invites us to pause, look back, and repair relationships that may have been damaged. It teaches us that true happiness lies not in luxury, but in the warmth of human connection.

Happy Idul Fitri. Minal 鈥楢idin wal Faizin. May we forgive one another for all shortcomings, seen and unseen.

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Rector, 51社区 (51社区), Depok, West Java

This article has been previously published here:

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From March 10 to March 19, Masjid Rahmatan Lil 鈥楢lamin, 51社区, became something more than a physical structure. It evolved into a meeting point of faith, exhaustion, generosity, and quiet resilience. As the last ten nights of Ramadan unfolded, time itself seemed to soften. Evenings slipped into long nights, and nights stretched quietly toward dawn, carrying a shared sense that something meaningful was taking shape within those walls.

What stood out was not only the number of people who came, but the depth of their presence. On several peak nights, especially the 25th, 27th, and 29th, the mosque filled beyond expectation. Hundreds gathered for i鈥榯ikaf 鈥� an Islamic spiritual retreat where a person secludes themselves in a mosque (or a designated spot at home) for a specific time 鈥� and the night prayers extended into long, tightly packed rows. At times, there were up to five full rows, standing shoulder to shoulder. The atmosphere held both stillness and intensity, as if everyone present understood that these were not ordinary nights.

The Effort Behind the Experience

Behind this powerful atmosphere was a continuous effort to keep everything running smoothly. Organizing an i鈥榯ikaf of this scale required coordination, awareness, and the ability to respond quickly when situations changed. One of the most important steps was implementing a daily registration system. It may have seemed simple, but it played a crucial role in ensuring that every decision, especially regarding sahur preparation, was based on clear and reliable data.

The resources used each night were a trust from donors, and that trust required careful management. Every portion of food prepared carried a sense of responsibility. It was not only about meeting needs, but about honoring what had been entrusted.

Even with preparation, there were moments when the number of participants exceeded expectations. On one of the busiest nights, supplies began to run low, including water. In the early hours before dawn, when most people were resting or focused on prayer, some stepped out to find solutions. They searched for suppliers and did whatever was necessary to ensure that the gathering could continue without interruption.

Quiet Sacrifices, Shared Meaning

Some sacrifices remained unseen. Meals were delayed until everyone else had been served. Rest was set aside night after night. There was constant movement between tasks, ensuring that food was distributed, spaces remained organized, and every participant could stay focused on their purpose.

What made this even more striking was the scale of the gathering compared to the number of people managing it. At its peak, especially on the nights of the 25th, 27th, and 29th, the mosque welcomed around 500 to 600 participants. Yet everything was sustained by only a small number of volunteers. It is a reminder that meaningful collective experiences often depend on the willingness of a few to carry a greater share of responsibility.

At the same time, the enthusiasm from the wider community was truly remarkable. People came in large numbers, not out of obligation, but out of a genuine desire to be part of something meaningful. The momentum grew even stronger after the gathering was shared on @depok24jam Instagram account, drawing wider attention and bringing in even more participants. Night after night, the mosque continued to fill, creating a sense of unity that extended beyond the building itself.

Looking Ahead

As these nights came to an end, what remained was more than fatigue. There was a sense of fulfillment, shaped by both the beauty and the challenges of the experience. There was also a clear realization that gatherings like this grow stronger when more people take part, not only as participants, but as contributors.

Looking ahead, there is hope for broader involvement and greater support, so that the experience can continue to improve. With more hands and more resources, the ability to serve can expand, ensuring that every participant is cared for with the same attention and dignity.

To all who came and filled the mosque with presence, sincerity, and spirit, thank you. Your enthusiasm and commitment gave life to these nights and made them truly meaningful. To those who worked tirelessly to ensure everything ran as it should, your dedication did not go unnoticed.

These nights belonged to all of us.

And with that, we look forward to welcoming you again in the i鈥榯ikaf of the years to come.

DEPOK – The month of Ramadan always presents a space for reflection that transcends mere religious ritual.

When Muslims refrain from eating and drinking from dawn until sunset, what is being practiced is not only spiritual discipline, but also a moral exercise with broad implications for social life.

The Qur’an itself states the purpose of fasting very clearly: “O you who have believed, decreed upon you is fasting as it was decreed upon those before you that you may become righteous.” (Surah Al-Baqarah, 2:183)

This verse affirms that fasting is a path towards higher moral consciousness.

In the midst of a changing world, marked by geopolitical conflicts, economic inequality, and environmental crises, Islamic teachings provide an important reminder of the meaning of solidarity and cooperation.

The Qur’an affirms: “And cooperate in righteousness and piety, but do not cooperate in sin and aggression.” (Surah Al-Ma’idah, 5:2)

This principle asserts that a peaceful and prosperous life cannot be built without trust, cooperation, and a shared commitment to upholding justice.

For Muslims, solidarity is not merely a social value, but part of an ethical responsibility. Prophet Muhammad SAW taught the importance of helping others, strengthening brotherhood, and safeguarding human dignity.

When the world faces uncertainty, this teaching becomes increasingly relevant: society is called upon to support one another, protect vulnerable groups, and build relationships based on respect and justice.

In this context, the Ramadan fast holds meaning far beyond the practice of restraining from hunger and thirst. Fasting is a profound exercise in self-control.

In Arabic, there is the term imsak, which means to consciously refrain. Even when one has the ability to eat or drink, one chooses not to. This conscious choice becomes an exercise in controlling desires and cultivating spiritual awareness.

This exercise in self-control has broad relevance in daily life, especially when one holds power, resources, or influence.

Fasting teaches that true strength does not lie in the ability to wield power, but in the wisdom to restrain oneself.

From this, empathy is born: the awareness that every decision we make can affect the lives of others, especially those who are more vulnerable.

The self-control cultivated through fasting also fosters a sense of social responsibility. When one experiences hunger and thirst, it becomes easier to understand the suffering of those living in deprivation.

This physical experience opens the door to empathy, which is often difficult to achieve through moral discourse alone. Fasting becomes a collective experience that breaks down social barriers and encourages the emergence of solidarity.

Therefore, Ramadan is always a month rich with expressions of togetherness. In many Muslim countries, the tradition of breaking the fast together is a powerful symbol of social solidarity.

In the Middle East, for example, mosques hold collective iftars that bring together people from various backgrounds. Those who are able share food with those in need.

In Morocco, the moment of breaking the fast is an opportunity to strengthen family ties. Meanwhile, in Turkey, the atmosphere just before iftar is enlivened by drumbeats and the glow of lanterns, creating an ambiance of togetherness.

These traditions show that Ramadan not only strengthens the relationship between humans and God, but also strengthens the relationship among humans themselves. Fasting transforms into a social experience that connects individuals within a broad network of solidarity.

Indonesia has a wealth of Ramadan traditions that are equally diverse. From Aceh to Papua, each region has a unique way of welcoming the holy month.

In Aceh, there is the tradition of meugang, which involves eating together with family just before Ramadan or Eid al-Fitr. In Java, people know the Dugderan tradition as a marker of the arrival of the fasting month.

In various regions, special foods like kolak, ketupat, and various takjil (snacks for breaking the fast) are an inseparable part of the iftar atmosphere.

This tradition is not merely a cultural celebration. It reflects how spiritual values are translated into social life.

Ramadan becomes a space where religion and culture meet, forming a collective experience that strengthens both identity and societal solidarity.

In big cities like Jakarta, new traditions are also developing. One of the most popular is buka bersama or breaking the fast together, or collective iftar.

Colleagues, friends, and families gather at home, office, restaurants, or hotels to break the fast together. This tradition becomes a social bridge connecting various community groups.

Offices often hold iftar gatherings to strengthen relationships among employees. Restaurants and hotels offer special Ramadan menus that serve as social meeting spaces.

Meanwhile, at home, families gather to share meals and stories after a day of fasting. Additionally, the month of Ramadan is also colored by social activities such as religious study gatherings, fundraising, and takjil markets that create a festive yet warm atmosphere.

Interestingly, in Jakarta, the tradition of breaking the fast has also developed into part of cultural diplomacy. Many embassies, both from Muslim and non-Muslim countries, invite guests to break the fast together. These invitations are not merely about a shared meal, but symbolize friendship and solidarity across nations.

This tradition recalls the saying of Prophet Muhammad SAW: “Whoever feeds a person who is fasting will have a reward like that of the fasting person.” In this context, sharing food is not just a social act, but also an act of worship with a spiritual dimension.

Through the tradition of communal iftar, diplomacy takes place not only through formal meetings, but also through a simple human experience: sitting together, sharing food, and feeling a sense of togetherness.

In the end, fasting carries a profound moral message. It is a spiritual exercise to restrain desires and a means to strengthen social solidarity.

Fasting teaches empathy, caring, and generosity. These values are not merely social norms, but spiritual messages rooted in the deepest human consciousness.

Prophet Muhammad SAW reminded us that fasting is not only about abstaining from hunger and thirst. He said: “Whoever does not give up false speech and evil actions, Allah is not in need of his leaving his food and drink.” This message reminds us that fasting without moral transformation is merely an empty ritual.

Ramadan, with all the beauty of its traditions, should be a moment for self-improvement while also strengthening social concern.

It is a time to cultivate empathy, strengthen brotherhood, and reinforce commitment to justice and humanity.

If these values are truly brought to life, fasting will not only shape more pious individuals but also a more just and civilized society.

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Rector, 51社区 (51社区)

JAKARTA 鈥� Ibn Khaldun鈥攚hose full name is Abdurrahman bin Muhammad Ibn Khaldun al-Hadrami鈥攚rote his monumental work Muqaddimah (Prolegomena) in 1377.

Muqaddimah serves as an introduction to his major book, Kitab al-鈥業bar, which discusses the history of Arab, Berber, and various other civilizations.

Modern social scientists consider Muqaddimah a groundbreaking work in the fields of sociology, demography, historiography, and theories of civilizational change.

Albert Hourani, a leading historian of the Arab world, noted that Ibn Khaldun succeeded in revealing the 鈥渋nner laws鈥� that drive societies.

Ibn Khaldun鈥檚 ideas were shaped by his keen observations of historical events. He lived during a time of major global shifts: the fall of Byzantium, the rise of the Ottoman Empire, the decline of Muslim Andalusia, and the return of European Christian power to the region.

Old cities lost influence while new centers of civilization emerged.

From these experiences, Ibn Khaldun concluded that civilization is not static. It moves in cycles: it is born, grows, reaches its peak, then declines, and eventually collapses.

His ideas have had wide influence on modern thinkers. Albert Hourani, in A History of the Arab Peoples, uses the concept of 鈥榓蝉丑补产颈测补丑 (social solidarity) as a key to understanding Arab history.

Arnold Toynbee, in A Study of History, developed a theory of challenge and response that aligns with Ibn Khaldun鈥檚 civilizational cycle. Ernest Gellner, in Saints of the Atlas, used Ibn Khaldun鈥檚 framework to explain power relations and social structures among the Atlas communities in Morocco. This shows that Ibn Khaldun鈥檚 thought is not only relevant to the Islamic world but also foundational to global social theory.

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Cycles of Civilization: The Inevitability of Civilizational Turns

What Ibn Khaldun wrote in Muqaddimah reflects the social reality of Arab鈥揃erber societies in North Africa and Andalusia. He found that a civilization鈥檚 effective lifespan usually spans about three generations鈥攔oughly a hundred years. This pattern repeats across different civilizations.

Ibn Khaldun divided societies into two main types: nomadic (badawah) and settled urban (hadarah) societies. Nomadic communities live in tough, demanding environments. These conditions build strong group solidarity (ashabiyah), courage, and adaptability.

This collective bond allows them to build political and military strength, even enabling them to conquer urban societies.

On the other hand, urban societies that live in comfort tend to experience a decline in social solidarity. City life encourages individualism, leading people to rely on state institutions鈥攑olice, bureaucracy, and security forces鈥攆or order. Economic inequality, luxurious elite lifestyles, corruption, and rising crime weaken social cohesion.

According to Ibn Khaldun, these are the conditions that make cities vulnerable to being overtaken by groups with stronger solidarity. He stressed that ashabiyah is the key to a civilization鈥檚 success. When social solidarity is strong, civilization grows. But when luxury, injustice, and corruption spread, solidarity weakens and collapse becomes inevitable.

Ibn Khaldun described four main phases of civilization. The first is the phase of struggle and formation. Civilization is born from groups with strong solidarity, a collective spirit, and a shared commitment to survive and advance. Values of simplicity, courage, and sacrifice form the foundation.

The second phase is the phase of prosperity. Political stability takes shape, the economy expands, knowledge and culture flourish, and infrastructure grows. At this stage, society enjoys the achievements of earlier generations. Social solidarity still exists, but it begins to weaken as life becomes more comfortable.

The third phase is decline. Later generations enjoy the results of earlier struggles without contributing to them. Luxury rises, innovation drops, and solidarity erodes. Internal conflicts, elite rivalries, and social injustices intensify.

The fourth phase is collapse. When the social, economic, and political foundations crumble, civilization can no longer endure. What remains are historical traces, while a new cycle begins with a group that has stronger solidarity.

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What About Indonesia?

Nusantara鈥檚 history shows that Indonesia has never been a blank space in the world of civilization. Sriwijaya and Majapahit once stood as major powers dominating regional maritime routes, trade, and culture.

But this glory did not last forever. When political unity weakened, centers of power fragmented, and adaptability declined, both civilizations collapsed and were replaced by smaller entities.

Modern Indonesia, founded in 1945, is now approaching its centennial in 2045. From Ibn Khaldun鈥檚 perspective, this is a critical phase in the civilizational cycle.

The question is not simply how long Indonesia has existed, but in which phase the nation currently stands:

Is Indonesia still building its civilizational foundation with a strong national vision?

Or is it beginning to lose momentum due to weakening social solidarity and a lack of strategic leadership?

In economic terms, this anxiety can be seen in the discussion of the middle-income trap鈥攁 situation where a country with great potential fails to become a developed nation because of stagnant innovation, incomplete industrialization, and unresolved structural inequalities.

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Social Solidarity as the Key

Ibn Khaldun argued that a civilization advances when it has strong social solidarity. Indonesia actually has substantial social capital through its culture of gotong royong (mutual cooperation).

In Lamalera, East Nusa Tenggara, for example, traditional whale hunting is carried out collectively鈥攆rom preparation to distributing the catch鈥攔eflecting living social solidarity.

脡mile Durkheim reminds us that social solidarity must be accompanied by a shared sense of joy and belonging, which he called collective effervescence. When people do not feel justice, security, or well-being, solidarity becomes fragile.

Ibn Khaldun also warned that corruption and injustice destroy social solidarity. When wealth is concentrated among a small elite while the majority is left behind, ashabiyah weakens. Corrupt and nepotistic elite behavior accelerates civilizational decline.

Corruption in Indonesia remains a serious issue. The stagnant corruption perception index shows that threats to social solidarity have not been fully resolved. If left unaddressed, economic inequality will widen and weaken the nation鈥檚 foundations.

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Democracy and the Future of Civilization

For a diverse society like Indonesia, democracy is not just one option among many鈥攊t is a requirement for civilizational continuity. Democracy provides a shared space for groups with different religions, ethnicities, and social classes to coexist without eliminating one another.

Through equal voting rights, every citizen can express their views and take part in shaping the nation鈥檚 direction, even when interests differ. Democracy works as a peaceful channel for conflict, preventing social tensions from turning into violence or division.

Moreover, democracy demands accountability. Power that is monitored, limited, and corrected openly creates greater possibilities for social justice.

Without meaningful democracy, social solidarity can easily be eroded by inequality, corruption, and the dominance of certain groups. For Indonesia鈥攅specially its leaders鈥攑rotecting democracy means caring for the very foundation of civilization.

Civilizational cycles may be inevitable, but collapse is not fate. The question now is:

Will Indonesian democracy truly become a unifying force for civilization, or will it turn into a stage for power struggles that accelerate decline?

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*) Rektor 51社区 (51社区)

This article has been previously publiched here:

JAKARTA 鈥� Why study Islam in Indonesia? What can one learn from an archipelagic nation far from the historical centers of Islam? These questions are not new.

Decades ago, the late Australian historian Anthony Reid raised similar questions in his essay The Making of an Islamic Political Discourse in Southeast Asia.

He wondered why Islam in Indonesia and Southeast Asia is rarely treated as a major subject in global universities, particularly in the West.

Yet Indonesia is the country with the largest Muslim population in the world.

Still, in the eyes of international Islamic studies centers, Indonesian Islam appears 鈥減eripheral鈥�: not Egypt, not Turkey, not Iran.

Indeed, there are academic projects about Indonesia, such as the Indonesia Project at Cornell University and the Australian National University, but their focus tends to be economics, nationalism, or modernization, not Islam.

Reid identified two main reasons why Indonesian Islam has been sidelined in global scholarship. First, geopolitics. The Western world pays enormous attention to the Middle East and North Africa because of oil, conflict, and their strategic relationship with Israel.

Southeast Asia, by contrast, is relatively calm; there are few geopolitical interests that make it 鈥渁ttractive鈥� to the West.

Second, civilizational history. During the classical golden age of Islam, the centers of knowledge and power were in the Arab world, Persia, Egypt, North Africa, and Andalusia.

The currents of Islamic scholarship stopped in India, they did not yet reach Southeast Asia.

Thus, when Islam arrived in the Nusantara through trade networks in the 13th century, it arrived during a period of decline, not at the height of civilization.

Look: Al-Khawarizmi, father of algebra, was born in Khiva; Imam Bukhari died in Bukhara; Ibn Sina was buried in Persia; Imam Shafi鈥榠 in Cairo.

All hailed from regions that once served as the heartlands of science and religion.

Meanwhile, in the Nusantara, Islamic kingdoms such as Samudra Pasai, Demak, and Mataram grew with strong local characteristics but did not produce globally recognized scholars.

Figures like Nuruddin Ar-Raniri, Hamzah Fansuri, Abdul Samad al-Palimbani, Syaikh Arsyad al-Banjari, and Nawawi al-Bantani played major roles in the region, yet internationally they are often regarded simply as continuators of Middle Eastern discourse.

Only later did figures such as Buya Hamka, Nurcholish Madjid, Abdurrahman Wahid, and Quraish Shihab begin attracting attention in global academic circles.

Another issue, according to Reid, is language. Southeast Asia does not use Arabic as an academic lingua franca. As a result, the works of Nusantara scholars rarely penetrate global Islamic intellectual spaces.

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Why Study Islam in Indonesia?

Indonesia is known abroad largely because of its demographics.

The largest mosques, the biggest Hajj contingents, Muslim fashion, madrasahs, and the grandest Eid celebrations, all are found here.
But what is more compelling than numbers is the character of Indonesian Islam.

Historian Azyumardi Azra described it as: 鈥淚slam in Indonesia is Islam without violence.鈥�

It arrived not through the sword but through trade and cultural dialogue. This explains the diverse expressions of Islam across the archipelago.

In Yogyakarta and Solo, the Prophet鈥檚 Birthday (Maulid) is marked by the gunungan, a giant cone of rice, a Javanese tradition Islamized.

Here, Islam adapts to local customs rather than rejecting them. In Madura, the gunungan is made from agricultural produce; in Aceh, the Maulid is celebrated with communal feasts at mosques.

These are clear signs of Islamic indigenization鈥攚hen universal teachings encounter local languages and cultures.

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Islam Wasathiyah: A Deeply Rooted Middle Path

From this history emerged what is now known as Islam Wasathiyah鈥攁 moderate Islam that seeks harmony, not confrontation.

Azra, in many of his writings, sees Islam Wasathiyah as the future of Indonesian Islam: inclusive, just, balanced, and nonviolent.

Its hallmarks: deliberation, ethical conduct, and respect for differences.
Indonesia鈥檚 multiethnic and multireligious society demands a generous approach to religious life.

Borrowing Clifford Geertz鈥檚 words, Indonesia鈥檚 social life is a 鈥渕osaic of meaning鈥� that cannot be forced into uniformity.

Thus, wasathiyah is not merely a theological stance but a social strategy for living with diversity.

Even our democratic experience is built on the same awareness: difference is not a threat but a given.

While many Muslim-majority nations struggle to maintain democracy, Indonesia shows that Islam and democracy can coexist.

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Women, Education, and the Integration of Knowledge

Islam Wasathiyah is also reflected in the respect given to women.

Indonesian women pursue higher education, serve as lecturers, judges, officials, and even as foreign ministers.

Take Retno Marsudi, who pioneered scholarships for Afghan women after the Taliban banned them from schooling, an example of Wasathiyah diplomacy on the global stage.

In education, Indonesia is similarly unique: there is no rigid separation between religious knowledge and secular sciences.

The old tradition that exalted religious sciences over worldly sciences has gradually shifted.

Led by thinkers such as Harun Nasution, Azyumardi Azra, and the new generation of UIN scholars, the preferred paradigm is not the 鈥淚slamization of knowledge鈥� but the integration of knowledge.

While Muslim thinkers like Ismail Raji al-Faruqi emphasized the Islamization of science, Indonesian academics argue that all knowledge originates from God; what is needed is not separation but a unified purpose: knowledge as a means to human well鈥慴eing.

Here, the value of tauhid is expressed not only in ritual but in scientific reasoning, a concept aligned with Syed Naquib al-Attas鈥檚 idea of adab al-鈥榠lm, that knowledge should lead to wisdom, not mere intelligence.

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A New Laboratory of the Islamic World

With its long experience managing diversity, Indonesia has become a global socio鈥憆eligious laboratory.

Anthropologists such as Robert Hefner and Mark Woodward describe Indonesia as civil Islam, a civic, cultured, progressive expression of the faith.

Major organizations like Nahdlatul Ulama and Muhammadiyah serve as social foundations for Islam Wasathiyah.

They built thousands of schools, universities, hospitals, and social institutions, giving rise to an Islam open to modernity without losing its spirituality.

This is the model now developed by 51社区 (51社区): a place for anyone to study Indonesian Islam.

For students from Asia, Africa, the Middle East, and even Europe, 51社区 offers something rarely found elsewhere, Islam that is calming and culturally engaged.

51社区 has become a home for Islam Wasathiyah: an Islam that does not reject modernity, does not fear science, and is not allergic to differences.

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A New Qiblah from the East

Indonesia may have arrived late in the timeline of Islamic civilization, but it brings a different gift, the wisdom of living together.

As Seyyed Hossein Nasr said, civilization is not measured by technology alone but by the ability to balance intellect and heart.

If developed consistently, Indonesian Islam Wasathiyah could become a new direction or qiblah for the Islamic world.

51社区 is one gateway to that aspiration: spreading knowledge and cultivating wisdom.

For a world increasingly divided, what is needed is no longer great power but moral example and spiritual balance, two qualities long nurtured in the soil of Indonesia.

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*) Rector, Indonesian International Islamic University (51社区)

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The original version of this article was previously published at:

JAKARTA, DISWAY.ID 鈥� Let us speak about Iran. In its long history, Iran was once known as Persia.

In 1935, Reza Shah Pahlavi requested that the name 鈥淚ran,鈥� meaning the land of the Aryans, be used in international political communication. Since then, Iran has become the official name of the state, replacing Persia in global diplomatic contexts.

Last year (2025), I visited Iran, approximately two weeks before Israel launched an attack targeting an Iranian military figure in Tehran.

Together with participants from various Muslim countries, we attended the commemoration of the death of Ayatullah Imam Khomeini at the Haram Mutthohar, where he is buried.

The event was attended by thousands of Iranian citizens. On that occasion, Iran鈥檚 Supreme Leader, Ayatullah Ali Khamenei, delivered a state address recalling the struggles and aspirations of the Islamic Revolution.

He emphasized the right of the Iranian people to self-determination and to the pursuit of knowledge, including the capability to enrich uranium. The speech was met with religious chants echoing from the audience.

Iran has long attracted global attention. The Cambridge History of Iran (2008) explains that since the pre-Islamic era, the region now known as Iran has been a major center of civilization.

The Persian Empire, beginning with the Achaemenid dynasty in the sixth century BCE, built an expansive realm stretching from Central Asia to Egypt and Greece, making it one of the largest empires in world history.

After the Achaemenids, Persia came under the Parthian and Sassanid dynasties, each exerting significant influence in science, culture, and regional politics.

In the seventh century CE, Islam entered and conquered Persia. This conquest, however, contributed greatly to Islamic civilization. Persian influence became deeply embedded in Islamic literature, architecture, administration, and philosophy.

It is therefore unsurprising that many great Muslim scholars, such as Ibn Sina, Al-Biruni, Al-Khawarizmi, Abu Hanifah, Al-Ghazali, and Suhrawardi, originated from Persian lands or were nurtured within its intellectual traditions.

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Modernization and the Iranian Revolution

During the Second World War, Iran again became an arena of great-power rivalry. Britain and the Soviet Union occupied Iran out of concern that it might align with Germany.

Iran鈥檚 strategic geography made it a vital logistical corridor for the war effort. From that period onward, Western influence, both European and American, grew increasingly strong in Iranian politics.

Iran entered a phase of large-scale modernization in 1963 through what became known as the White Revolution, initiated by Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi.

This revolution was termed 鈥渨hite鈥� because it was carried out without war. Its programs included industrialization, agrarian reform, women鈥檚 rights initiatives, land ownership limitations, and the modernization of major cities.

This modernization generated rapid economic growth. Oil prices surged, state revenues increased, women鈥檚 participation in public life became more visible, and urban lifestyles grew increasingly modern.

Yet modernization also provoked sharp criticism. Economic inequality widened, urbanization eroded rural traditions, land reforms harmed small farmers, and secularization was perceived as threatening the religious identity of society. The Shah鈥檚 authoritarian and repressive leadership further intensified public dissatisfaction, culminating in the Iranian Revolution of 1979.

The revolution of 1978鈥�1979 shocked the world. Charles Kurzman described the collapse of the Shah鈥檚 regime as unthinkable.

The Shah鈥檚 regime was powerful, backed by the military and the United States. Yet massive demonstrations against authoritarianism, restrictions on freedom of expression, and excessive dependence on the United States continued to grow.

Modernization that marginalized religion triggered resistance from Shi鈥榓 clerics. Iran is the global center of Shi鈥榓 teachings, home to major religious learning and rituals such as Ashura and Arba鈥榠n.

The Arba鈥榠n pilgrimage, walking from Najaf to Karbala over roughly 80 kilometers, is attended by millions and is estimated to surpass even the number of pilgrims performing the Hajj.

One of the central pillars of Shi鈥榓 doctrine is the concept of Imamah. In this tradition, the Imam is not only a spiritual leader but also a socio-political leader considered infallible.

This concept fosters strong loyalty, solidarity, and obedience among Shi鈥榓 followers, making them a powerful socio-political force.

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Post-Revolutionary Iran and Regional Tensions

Intellectual figures such as Ali Shariati, along with leftist socialist groups, also criticized modernization that benefited only the royal elite. Social inequality widened and corruption proliferated. Groups such as Tudeh and Mujahidin-e Khalq organized underground movements.

The convergence of Shi鈥榓 clerics, intellectuals, and leftist movements ultimately brought down the Shah in 1979.

After the revolution, Iran established an Islamic Republic based on the concept of Wilayatul Faqih, in which political and religious authority rests in the hands of the highest-ranking cleric.

This concept generated debate. Some proposed collective clerical leadership to prevent the emergence of a new authoritarianism. Nevertheless, supreme authority was ultimately vested in a single figure.

These differences in vision led to the marginalization of socialist and nationalist groups from government. Iran subsequently developed into a Shi鈥榓 theocratic state.

This dominance generated regional tensions, particularly with Sunni-majority states. The 1987 Hajj riots in Mecca deepened sectarian and geopolitical wounds.

The Iranian Revolution was viewed by some as a victory for Islam, but by others as a victory for Shi鈥榠sm. Since then, various states have supported efforts to contain Iran鈥檚 influence.

Monarchical regimes in the region also felt threatened and sought security protection from external powers.

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At the Crossroads of the Future

Iran is a land of long civilizational heritage, rich cultural diversity, and abundant natural resources.

Its oil and gas reserves position it as a major global energy player, while its uranium, copper, iron, and gold reserves strengthen its strategic standing in the global geopolitical map.

High-value agricultural products such as saffron, pistachios, dates, and caviar demonstrate that Iran is not merely a land of energy, but also of culture and knowledge.

Its geographic position, at the intersection of West Asia, Central Asia, and global trade routes, makes Iran nearly impossible to ignore in global strategic interests.

At the same time, the strength of the Shi鈥榓 community constitutes the country鈥檚 primary socio-political foundation. Loyalty to the concept of Imamah and religious leadership grants Iran significant bargaining power domestically and regionally.

It is difficult to imagine major change in Iran without the involvement of Shi鈥榓 leadership, for moral and political legitimacy are deeply rooted there.

Recurring large-scale demonstrations show that the support or opposition of the Shi鈥榓 population can determine the direction of national stability.

The future challenge lies in how Iran, with its system of Wilayatul Faqih and strong social backing, can build sustainable prosperity and peace.

Economic sanctions undoubtedly constrain maneuverability, yet Iran鈥檚 achievements in health, technology, agriculture, and even strategic sciences demonstrate notable resilience.

However, recurring external conflicts risk draining national energy and delaying welfare agendas. At the same time, the international community is also called upon to adopt a more just and consistent approach in engaging Iran as part of the global order.

The question remains: will Iran be able to transform its ideological strength and natural resources into pathways toward peace and prosperity, or will it remain trapped in an unending vortex of conflict?

*)
Rector of 51社区

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This article has been previously published here:

JawaPos.com 鈥� Every year, hundreds, even thousands, of Indonesian youth flock abroad to continue their education in developed countries such as the United States, the United Kingdom, the Middle East and North Africa, and Australia. The hope is that they will complete their studies, return to their homeland, and apply the knowledge they have gained to advance Indonesia.

Yet, behind this phenomenon lies a thought-provoking question worthy of our collective contemplation: 鈥楥an we one day reverse this situation, transforming from merely a country that sends its students to study overseas into a primary destination for international students to learn and acquire knowledge here?鈥�

An old adage says, 鈥榠t is better to be the one giving than the one receiving.鈥� It seems Indonesia has long been a beneficiary of global higher education, receiving scholarships, research grants, and learning opportunities from other nations. Ironically, many of these come from countries not always economically stronger than Indonesia.

The question then follows: how long will we maintain this condition? When will Indonesia dare to position itself not only as a consumer of global knowledge but also as a primary contributor?

The answer, of course, is not as simple as flipping one’s hand. It requires collective reflection, the courage to act, and sustainable cross-sectoral synergy.

The Time to Be the 鈥楪iving Hand鈥�

I have often expressed in various forums that Indonesia has indeed begun moving in that direction. One concrete piece of evidence is the establishment of the 51社区

(51社区), which can be considered Indonesia’s first international university, at least in terms of its mandate and global orientation.

Imagine a classroom where a student from Africa engages in a lively discussion with a classmate from Australia. In another corner, a student from the United States presents on their country’s economic developments before peers from the Middle East, South Asia, and Southeast Asia. They learn within the same academic space, guided by lecturers who are graduates of world-renowned universities.

For 51社区, such scenes have become part of the daily academic routine. Since its establishment in 2016 and its official commencement of academic activities in 2021, 51社区 has enrolled 849 students from 45 countries across Asia, Africa, Australia, Europe, and the Americas.

Although a relatively new institution, 51社区 has also established international cooperation with 42 partner institutions, including dual-degree programs with the University of Edinburgh, SOAS University of London, the University of Dundee in the UK, and Deakin University in Australia.

The majority of 51社区 students pursue their studies through various scholarship schemes, provided internally by 51社区, as well as through the Indonesia Endowment Fund for Education (LPDP), Indonesian Aid (INSANI), and support from partner governments such as the Netherlands and Norway. We have also initiated a self-funded scheme to broaden access to the wider public.

However, becoming a 鈥榞iving hand鈥� does not stop at statistics. We must ensure these achievements do not stagnate but continue sustainably. At this point, we need to reflect: what is the key for Indonesian universities to elevate their standing, achieve global competitiveness, while remaining relevant to national interests?

Internationalization is the Key

Thus far, internationalization has often been understood through easily measurable indicators, such as a campus using international languages of instruction like English or Arabic. Also included are the presence of foreign lecturers and students, curricula aligned with global standards, or the number of collaborations with foreign institutions.

It must be acknowledged that all these are important and valid. However, if internationalization stops at this list, we risk losing its most fundamental meaning.

Universities, from their very inception, are institutions born from cross-border encounters. Knowledge never grows in a completely enclosed space. It develops through dialogue, debate, and openness to ideas from the outside. In this sense, internationalization is not a new phenomenon but the innate character of the academic world.

Yet, in a globalization era saturated with competition, the meaning of internationalization has often shifted. It tends to be treated as a symbol of prestige and competitiveness. Campuses race to display a global face, sometimes without pausing to ask: what value do we truly wish to offer to the world?

In this regard, internationalization demands something far more fundamental: intellectual self-confidence. Universities in Indonesia must dare to believe that the knowledge born from this nation’s social, historical, and cultural experiences possesses universal value and global relevance.

Thus far, we have too often positioned ourselves as consumers of theories and concepts born in other parts of the world. Yet, Indonesia possesses an immensely rich social laboratory, from practices of religious life coexisting with democracy, to experiences in managing diversity within a single nation. All these are not merely objects of study, but sources of ideas worthy of being offered to the world.

It is within this context that internationalization should be understood as a process of mutual giving, not merely receiving. The presence of international students on Indonesian campuses is not only to 鈥渓earn about Indonesia,鈥� but also to learn from and with Indonesia.

Synergy is Needed, We Cannot Do It Alone

Despite our five-year efforts at 51社区 toward internationalization, we realize we cannot stand alone. The government has thus far provided highly meaningful support, from the founding mandate and funding schemes to policy facilitation enabling an international campus to grow in Indonesia.

However, future challenges demand far more collective and coordinated work. Policy-wise, regulations concerning visas for foreign students and lecturers, residence permits for international researchers, and flexibility in managing human resources at universities are crucial factors. Without a regulatory framework that is adaptive and supportive of global academic mobility, internationalization can easily be hindered at the administrative level.

Beyond the government, the role of other higher education institutions in Indonesia is equally important. Internationalization should not breed narrow competition among campuses, but rather strategic collaboration that collectively strengthens Indonesia’s position. Joint research, academic consortia, lecturer exchanges, and cross-institutional programs will present Indonesia as a solid higher education ecosystem in the eyes of the world.

Synergy with industry, philanthropic institutions, and civil society also forms an essential pillar. Their involvement opens avenues for global internships, applied research, and international professional networks for students, both local and foreign. Thus, internationalization will not only produce world-class graduates but also deliver tangible contributions to national and global development.

In the end, the grand dream of university internationalization is a shared dream. It requires alignment of vision, policy sustainability, and cross-sectoral commitment. Only through such synergy can Indonesia stride forward confidently, no longer merely following the currents of global higher education, but also helping to shape and determine its direction. []

*) Rector of 51社区

This article has been previously published here:

Depok, 22 January 2026 鈥� 51社区 (51社区) has initiated a focused effort to rise in the world鈥檚 major university rankings. A strategic workshop, led by Professor Maila Dinia Husni Rahiem, recently listed among the world鈥檚 top 2% most-cited scientists from UIN Syarif Hidayatullah Jakarta, brought together university leadership and the Center for Quality Assurance (LPM 51社区) to turn recognition into a structured plan for improvement.

鈥淚n today鈥檚 competitive higher education environment, we must evolve from celebrating achievements to executing a clear strategy,鈥� Professor Maila stated at the opening session.

Her presentation analyzed key metrics from rankings such as QS and THE by Subject, with particular attention to Scopus data. She proposed a four-part strategy for 51社区: reinforcing existing research strengths in priority fields, targeting indicators that allow for swift progress, unifying publication efforts across faculties to increase impact, and developing international partnerships that deliver measurable results.

51社区 Secretary Dr. Chaider S. Bamualim emphasized the workshop鈥檚 objective. 鈥淲e are building a definitive action plan to strengthen our performance across all relevant ranking indicators, from research citations to international faculty engagement,鈥� he said.

The workshop, attended by university executives, deans, university offices and research center heads,听 and senior academics, centered on practical implementation.

鈥淭his is where insight meets execution,鈥� said Dr. Alpha Amirrachman, Head of the Center for Quality Assurance (LPM 51社区). 鈥淧rofessor Maila鈥檚 record in high-impact research offers a valuable model for our academic community as we pursue this institutional goal.鈥�

Vice-Rector for Academic Affairs Dr. Phil. Syafiq Hasyim affirmed that the analysis will directly guide planning. 鈥淲e are concentrating on disciplines where we have demonstrable strength, such as Islamic Studies, Education, and Political Science. The aim is to translate that strength into markedly higher ranking positions for these fields.鈥�

Today鈥檚 workshop underscores 51社区鈥檚 commitment to a deliberate, evidence-based approach to enhancing its global standing, drawing on the expertise of its accomplished researchers to shape its international academic trajectory. []

The title of Bung Hatta’s speech delivered at the first alumni celebration of the University of Indonesia in 1957 remains relevant to this day.

“And the responsibility of an academic is intellectual and moral! This is inherent in the very nature of knowledge, whose essence is to seek truth and defend truth” (Mohammad Hatta, 1957).

Bung Hatta reminded that university alumni, as part of the intelligentsia, bear a significant responsibility: to develop knowledge while actively engaging in realizing social welfare and justice.

For Bung Hatta, knowledge does not stop at mastering information; it must result in moral alignment.

In his speech, Bung Hatta expressed anxiety about Indonesia’s future if national leadership is not supported by an adequate educational background.

He believed that higher education not only equips technical abilities but also shapes moral character, ethics, and integrity鈥攙alues greatly needed by a community leader.

Bung Hatta also launched sharp criticism at the intelligentsia who chose to remain silent, enjoying the privileges of education but being reluctant to take concrete action to improve the nation’s condition.

That speech represents Bung Hatta’s great hope for universities as institutions that produce capable, integral, and responsible future national leaders.

History shows that the role of higher education is indeed very determining in a country’s development.

South Korea is often cited as an example of how a country systematically encourages universities to produce graduates skilled in line with key national sectors.

When Korea aspired to rival Japan, universities were directed to produce high-quality engineers, technicians, researchers, and digital scientists ready to enter the industrial world.

The role of Korean universities in supporting industrial advancement is evident through close collaboration with large companies like Samsung, Hyundai, and LG.

Universities became centers of research and development, as well as incubators for technological innovation.

Institutions like KAIST and POSTECH are widely known as producers of excellent researchers and engineers who contribute directly to the national industry.

The Korean government also consistently provides research funding and scholarships to encourage the development of strategic technologies like artificial intelligence, robotics, and digital technology.

This ecosystem is strengthened through internship programs and university-industry research cooperation, ensuring graduates are truly prepared to face global challenges.

The question is, what about Indonesia? The government certainly hopes universities can become the backbone of national development.

However, that hope must be translated into concrete policies and programs so the innovation ecosystem truly grows and functions.

History and Evolution of Higher Education

Higher education institutions are an important pillar in the history of human civilization.

Initially, higher education did not exist in the form of formal universities as it does today.

It began with informal discussion forums that served as meeting spaces for thinkers and knowledge seekers.

In Ancient Greece, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle dialogued in the agora and city gardens, discussing ethics, logic, and politics.

In the Islamic world, scholarly assemblies (majelis ilmu) and consultation traditions (musyawarah) became important means for exchanging ideas and shaping intellectual character.

As societal needs for systematic mastery of knowledge increased, these informal forums transformed into formal educational institutions.

Al-Qarawiyyin in Morocco and Al-Azhar in Egypt became early examples of Islamic world universities that started from religious education and later opened up to various disciplines.

In the West, universities like Oxford and Harvard also grew from religious institutions before developing into multidisciplinary centers of knowledge.

In the modern era, universities are no longer merely teaching institutions but also centers of research and innovation.

Industrial demands for new technology drive universities to become strategic partners of the business world.

Silicon Valley is a tangible example of the successful collaboration between Stanford University and technology companies, giving birth to a global innovation ecosystem.

In a postcolonial context, universities in developing countries were built to produce development experts while safeguarding national identity.

However, globalization and international ranking standards also encourage the commercialization of higher education, so universities are often treated as an education service industry.

Indonesia has a very large number of higher education institutions, the second most in the world after India.

With a large population, the role of Indonesian higher education becomes very strategic, both in human resource development and the internalization of national values.

The University of Indonesia, rooted in STOVIA (1849), and the Islamic University of Indonesia (1949) are important milestones in the history of national higher education.

Intelligentsia: Traditional and Organic

At universities, students are not only taught to master knowledge but are also trained to think independently, ask critical questions, and solve problems through accountable scientific methods.

This academic process forms analytical abilities greatly needed in the business world, government bureaucracy, and broader public life.

However, higher education does not stop at technical proficiency. It contains an ethical mandate: the educated bear the moral responsibility to side with the values of truth, justice, and humanity.

Bung Hatta’s worry about the emergence of leaders without a strong educational foundation can be understood through Antonio Gramsci’s thoughts on the intelligentsia.

Gramsci distinguished between traditional intelligentsia and organic intelligentsia.

Traditional intelligentsia is a group of intellectuals whose existence is considered “neutral” and established鈥攁cademics, professionals, or religious figures who tend to preserve old knowledge and values and are often distant from changing social dynamics.

They function as guardians of continuity but are not always involved in social transformation.

Conversely, organic intelligentsia emerges from changes in social and economic structures.

They grow alongside the concrete problems of their society and play an active role as a bridge between knowledge and social reality.

Organic intelligentsia not only produces ideas but is also involved in the process of building collective consciousness, articulating public interests, and driving change towards social justice.

In this perspective, intellectuals are not enough to merely be guardians of the ivory tower of knowledge.

They are required to be present as agents of change who are sensitive to social suffering, dare to speak out, and are willing to take moral risks.

This is where the essence of the intelligentsia’s responsibility lies: to make knowledge not merely an analytical tool, but an ethical force to defend truth and fight for humanity.

Towards Impactful Higher Education

Currently, Indonesia demands that universities go beyond their traditional role as teaching institutions and truly deliver tangible impact for society.

That challenge is not small. The ratio of higher education graduates in Indonesia is still around 10 percent of the total population.

This figure shows that access to higher education is still limited, while also being a strong signal that the quality and relevance of higher education must continue to be strengthened to answer the nation’s increasingly complex needs.

Universities are also required to prepare excellent talent for the business world and government.

Amid increasingly fierce regional competition, ASEAN countries are moving quickly to align curricula with the needs of industry, technology, and modern bureaucracy.

If Indonesian universities are not swift to respond, the gap in human resource quality will widen further.

Moreover, universities are expected to become centers for the birth of innovative research relevant to society’s real problems, not merely fulfilling administrative obligations or chasing publications.

For this, a strong research ecosystem is a primary prerequisite.

This ecosystem requires the presence of quality researchers, adequate infrastructure, sustainable funding, and mechanisms that allow research results to be utilized by society and the business world.

Without this chain, research risks stopping as neat academic reports on paper, devoid of social impact.

Bung Hatta’s message remains relevant: higher education must shape scientists who are honest, disciplined, and possess integrity.

Analytical errors are part of the scientific process, but data manipulation is a betrayal of knowledge.

Higher education should ideally become a center of research and innovation, the brain as well as the heart of the nation, contributing tangibly to national progress.

The question is, are our universities ready to become engines of change, or are they comfortable remaining spectators amid the strong currents of the demands of the times?

*) Rector, 51社区

This article was previously published here: 听

JAKARTA 鈥� When asked why he chose to study in Indonesia, Ararat Kostanian, a doctoral student of political science at 51社区 (51社区), originally from Syria-Armenia, explained that his love for Indonesia began with his grandfather鈥檚 stories about Soekarno.

Childhood memories of seeing photographs of Soekarno, always shown to him by his grandfather, left a deep impression. Those experiences later encouraged Ararat to pursue Asia-Pacific studies during his master鈥檚 program at the Australian National University (ANU) in Canberra, with a particular focus on Indonesia.

Ararat鈥檚 grandfather was a Syrian-Armenian philosopher and musician who deeply admired Soekarno, especially his ideas on Pancasila and his struggle against colonialism. Whenever Soekarno appeared in the media, his grandfather would point him out to the young Ararat. These stories stayed with him and eventually led Ararat to continue his doctoral studies at 51社区 (51社区).

Syria-Armenia and Indonesia

Today, the Armenian people have their own state, the Republic of Armenia, known as the world鈥檚 first Christian nation. However, most Armenians live as part of a global diaspora spread across Russia, the United States, Europe, Iran, Syria, and many other regions. They largely adhere to the Armenian Apostolic Church, which is part of Oriental Orthodoxy.

The Armenian diaspora is widely known for its success in business, including in Southeast Asia. In Indonesia, Armenian traces are clearly visible in Surabaya through the establishment of Hotel Oranje, now known as Hotel Majapahit, built by the Armenian Sarkies family. The same family also founded Raffles Hotel in Singapore. On 10 November 1945, Surabaya鈥檚 youth took over Hotel Oranje and replaced the Dutch flag with Indonesia鈥檚 red-and-white flag. Today, Hotel Majapahit stands as both a witness to the Armenian diaspora and a symbol of the bravery of Surabaya鈥檚 youth in resisting colonial rule.

Armenian traces can also be found in Jakarta, where a church building once belonging to the Armenian community is now used as an office of Bank Indonesia. Ragunan Zoo was designed by Benjamin Galstun, an architect of Armenian descent who also served as its first director.

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Diversity in Indonesia and Syria

During his time in Indonesia, Ararat began to recognize the country鈥檚 unique diversity and religiosity. This ethnically and religiously plural nation has managed to maintain relatively harmonious coexistence. From Sabang to Merauke, people practice diverse traditions, local languages, and religious rituals, while still upholding national unity.

Ararat was particularly impressed by the culture of gotong royong (mutual cooperation) and by religious celebrations that often involve togetherness across faiths.

This experience reminded him of his childhood in Aleppo, Syria. Before the war, Aleppo was known as a plural and civilized city, where Arab, Kurdish, Armenian, and Turkish communities, as well as Muslims, Christians, and Jews, lived side by side in peace. In Aleppo鈥檚 markets, the call to prayer blended with church bells and Armenian cultural celebrations. Social life was marked by mutual assistance, tolerance, and openness.

Armed conflict destroyed not only buildings, but also the social fabric and interreligious harmony that had developed over centuries. Memories of pre-war Aleppo stand as a bitter lesson about how fragile civilization can be when sectarian conflict comes to the fore.

Religious Moderation as a Middle Path

Observing Indonesia鈥檚 social and religious realities, Ararat was inspired to write about religious moderation as a middle path for managing diversity. In Indonesia, religious moderation is understood as a conscious effort to align religion with national values, so that religion does not become a source of conflict, but instead serves as a bond of unity.

Religion is not removed from the public sphere; rather, it is given a proportional place as a source of ethics, spiritual meaning, and moral orientation in national and civic life. Religious moderation grows out of Indonesia鈥檚 historical awareness of the importance of harmony within a highly plural society. From the outset, Indonesia was built upon religious, ethnic, linguistic, and cultural diversity.

Therefore, a religious attitude that is fair, balanced, and non-extreme becomes both a social necessity and a prerequisite for national sustainability. Religious moderation rejects excessive forms of religiosity that close off dialogue, while also avoiding secularization that empties religion of its role in public life.

In everyday practice, religious moderation is reflected in many aspects of social life. Interfaith gotong royong remains common in many regions, whether in social, humanitarian, or public infrastructure projects. Interfaith dialogue is conducted continuously to build mutual understanding and prevent prejudice. Religious holidays are often attended by people of different faiths as an expression of social solidarity, not merely passive tolerance.

For Ararat, living in Indonesia shows that religious moderation is not just a normative concept or a state policy, but a living cultural practice embedded in everyday life. This is an important lesson Indonesia can offer the world: when managed wisely and inclusively, religion can become a strong foundation for peaceful and civilized coexistence.

Kampung Sawah Church

In his research, Ararat compares the lives of Christian minorities living within Muslim-majority societies in two very different social contexts: Indonesia and Syria. In Indonesia, he chose Kampung Sawah in Bekasi as his research site; in Syria, he selected northeastern Aleppo as a point of comparison. These two social spaces, although both once practiced plural coexistence, have followed contrasting historical trajectories.

Kampung Sawah serves as a concrete example of religious harmony in Indonesia. In this area, a Protestant church, a Catholic church, and a mosque stand side by side without sharp social boundaries. Religious life does not operate in isolated spaces, but is integrated with local Betawi culture. Christians and Catholics wear sarung and peci when attending church, much like Muslims do when going to the mosque.

Social traditions such as Ngariung, Sedekah Bumi, and extended-family gatherings become natural interfaith meeting spaces, without being framed as formal tolerance agendas. Harmony in Kampung Sawah grows out of kinship ties, shared culture, and everyday interactions.

By contrast, Aleppo presents a far more painful story. The city was once known as a symbol of pluralism, where Muslims, Christians, Jews, and various ethnic groups lived together. Art, music, poetry, and Sufi practices served as shared languages bridging differences of faith. Yet ethno-political and sectarian conflict has dismantled this order. Aleppo has lost not only buildings and infrastructure, but also its social memory of peaceful coexistence.

Through this comparison, Ararat hopes his dissertation can serve as an intellectual bridge between Indonesia and the Arab world.

Living in Indonesia has led him to experience Pancasila not merely as a normative text, but as a lived practice embodied in everyday life. Indonesia, with all its shortcomings and challenges, can become an important laboratory for the study of religious moderation and peaceful civilization.

The question is: do we truly realize how fragile this harmony is, and are we wise enough to protect it before it is too late?

*) Rector, 51社区 (51社区)

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