Journal articles on the topic 'Mataram (Sultanate) Politics and government'

Yogyakarta Special Region (DIY) is an area still retains a strong cultural heritage, ranging from customs of Javanese-Islamic culture and Mataram Sultanate system. DIY becomes the only province that has a special authority to institutionalize the administration of government by placing the roles and responsibilities of the Ngayogyakarta Hadiningrat Sultanate and Kadipaten Pakualaman in filling the positions of provincial leaders. This process was legitimized by Indonesian Law No. 13 of 2012 about Special Administrative Status for Yogyakarta. But over time, polemics have emerged since Sri Sultan Hamengku Buwono X issued Sabda Raja and Dawuh Raja who reaped pros-cons and were clashed with the royal tradition’s values from generation to generation. Based on these realities, it becomes interesting to discuss about the dynamics of women and politics of heritage in DIY as a critical reflection in welcoming the next leader. On the one side, the system of the Javanese-Islamic Mataram Sultanate as a cultural heritage must be maintained. But on the other side, the aspect of modernity through the struggle for gender equality also opens the opportunity for Indonesian women are also capable of being and have become capable democratic leaders in the 21st Century.

This article examines the history of the arrival of Islam into Indonesia. This research is library research using documentation method. The results of this study are: First, no one knows for sure when Islam began to appear in Indonesia. Several theorists and historians have different opinions and analyzes. However, there are at least four major theories regarding the entry of Islam into Indonesia, namely: Arabic theory, Gujarat theory (India), Bengali theory (Fatimi), and Persian theory. Second, the spread and process of Islamization in Indonesia itself was carried out peacefully. Indonesian people can accept the existence of Islam well. There are six channels of Islamization in Indonesia, namely: trade, marriage, Sufism, education, arts and culture, and politics. Third, the existence of Islamic kingdoms also had a big role in the spread and development of Islam in Indonesia. These Islamic kingdoms stretched from Sumatra to the Moluccas. Some of them are the Perlak Sultanate, Samudera Pasai Sultanate, Malacca Sultanate, Aceh Sultanate, Demak Sultanate, Pajang Sultanate, Mataram Sultanate, Cirebon Sultanate, Banten Sultanate, Sultanate of Ternate, Sultanate of Tidore, Sultanate of Gowa, Sultanate of Tallo, Sultanate of Pasir, Sultanate of Banjar, Kotawaringin Sultanate, Pagatan Sultanate, Sambas Sultanate, Kutai Kertanegara Sultanate, Berau Sultanate, Sambaliung Sultanate, Gunung Tabur Sultanate, Pontianak Sultanate, Tidung Sultanate, and Bulungan Sultanate.

The article discusses the role of wali (the Muslim saints), sultan, kiai, and santri within religious tradition and politics in Java. The wali (commonly known as Walisongo or “the Nine Saints”) were people who initially spread Islam in Java. In their efforts to develop Islam, Walisongo also equipped their pupils with religious knowledge to spread Islam in the future. This is from such process the transfer of Islamic knowledge was primarily set off. Once the transition periods began, the role of wali had subsequently vanished and replaced by the formal ruler, namely sultan. The Mataram Sultanate was the biggest Islamic sultanate ever in the history of Java. Owing to the supremacy of the Sultan, Kiai Kasan Besari—as an ample example of kiai mentioned in this article—built a pesantren in an area called tanah perdikan (a tax haven) in Tegalsari Ponorogo, East Java, which became an origin of institutionalization of the pesantren in Java. The Sultan provided the pesantren both material aids and other kinds of support, including entrusting his sons to learn religious knowledge in it. It had been also followed by the royal courtiers and the best cadres of the sultanate who subsequently became litterateurs of the Kingdom.

Sultanate of Bima faces various challenges, especially in the economic and political fields of government. Trade freedom had been the main pillar of the economy, threatened by the Dutch trade monopoly. Sovereignty and territorial integrity are threatened by the " Lange Contract " ( long contract ) which was imposed by the Dutch colonial government . The agreement " Lange Contract " ( long contract ) with the Netherlands has made people's anger overflowed. Anger was manifested by the resistance of the people of N g Ali against occupation of the Netherlands in the years 1908-1909. The purpose of writing this is to examine more deeply about the background behind the constellation of politics in the Sultanate of Bima so that the P groaned Ngali , and the impact of P groaned Ngali.

The problem of locality and local wisdom in Indonesia became a problem that received a lot of attention after the 1998 reform. Government in the New Order era which was previously centralized and centralized in Jakarta turned into decentralized with the concept of regional autonomy. Some districts and cities in Central Java began to identify the rich history, local arts and culture to be appointed as regional icons. Magelang regency made the Soreng dance from Ngablak District a typical dance of a cultural icon. Soreng Dance tells the story of one of the historical figures in Java, namely Arya Penangsang. Characterization of the Arya Penangsang in the Soreng dance which take the source of the story from the Babad Tanah Djawi represent a form of representation of the Javanese ruler of Mataraman, namely the Sultanate of Pajang which was passed on by the Sultanate of Mataram and its heirs (Surakarta Palace, Yogyakarta Palace, Mangkunegaran, and Pakualaman) for the benefit of hegemony. The results of this study reveal that representation is used by several parties concerned with the figure of Arya Penangsang, namely: 1) Babad Tanah Djawi / Javanese Mataraman culture manifested in Soreng dance art; 2) Soreng dance depicts Arya Penangsang as a rude and power-hungry figure, defeated by a very young child, and his territory (Jipang) is despised by the Pajang Sultanate because it is seen as a rebel; 3) Soreng dance strengthens the representation of hegemony-style Babad Tanah Djawi/Javanese Mataraman culture.

Abstract Diplomacy, Politics, Sultanate, Colonial This research was conducted as an effort to find out how the political diplomacy relations used by the Palembang sultan in establishing relations with Western powers, especially the Dutch Company in the archipelago. Political diplomacy is important because diplomacy is one way to foster and establish friendly relations between one person and people from other countries who aim to collaborate in various interests of the sultanate and government interests. To be able to establish relationships with one another, a device or diplomat is needed to establish the relationship. The main problem discussed in this study is to look at the Codicology, Philology, Transliteration, and Types of diplomacy in the Malay letters made by the Palembang authorities for the Dutch colonial government and also this research aims to find out what reasons and objectives to be achieved in fill in the letters. For this purpose, this type of research includes qualitative research, using secondary and primary sources. Primary sources are obtained from original texts and secondary sources in the form of books relating to the Palembang Sultanate, theses, dissertations and scientific journals. The technique of collecting data is to examine and select selectively then displayed and used in accordance with the time limit, namely the 19th century. After that, the data analysis technique uses descriptive-analytical techniques, namely to describe the full text, then analyze the meanings contained in the method and methods used is a single diplomatic edition method. After that, the writing of history to see and describe the findings in the letter with a historical approach. Keywords: Diplomacy, Politics, Sultanate, Colonial

The issue of dualism in the South Halmahera government policy on managing cultural diversity in the Bacan Sultanate is an interesting phenomenon to study. Saruma, the multicultural icon used to manage diversity in the Bacan Sultanate, is not reflected in governmental policy or society, in general. This study focused on three research questions: 1) What is the socio-historical context of the Bacan Sultanate from which the concept of Saruma emerged? 2) Why has the South Halmahera government failed to apply the concept of Saruma in its policy on managing diversity? 3) What are the impacts of this dualism on the people? This qualitative research employed observation techniques to understand the community’s dynamics. In-depth interviews were conducted to obtain data concerning the people’s social lives as well as the government’s policy and its impact on society. A literature review was undertaken to understand related research and to formulate a theoretical framework as an analytical device. The results showed that in spite of the cultural authority owned by the Sultanate, the absence of political authority has led to a failure to implement its Saruma concept in managing the cultural diversity. The change of political system from representation to participation has also led to transactional politics, which benefits the majority but disadvantages the minority, and the traditions of domination and hegemony, in turn, have discriminated against the minority, endangering their identity.

The elite revival of the Ternate Sultanate after the New Order illustrated how the palace group played a new role in staying in its position as a clan of power in the local sphere. In this case, the emergence of the elite of the Ternate Sultanate can be understood and interpreted in three respects. First, the rise of feudalistic power in the region to strengthen political position stemmed from cultural construction based on history and genealogical similarities. Second, the individual revival of the Sultan of Ternate MudafarSyah in the name of the Sultanate institution as his political vehicle. Third, there is the elite desire of the Ternate Sultanate to be more institutionally accommodated into the formal government political stage. This reality shows the political participation of the Ternate Sultanate in the post-independence domain of local politics until now, is an important field of historical research. As a historical phenomenon, the process of dynamics of local politics like this is interesting to study, because the Sultan of Ternate has long been a part of the history of politics in North Maluku. Also, there is an implicit message about how partial Indonesian political studies are if they only focus on the dynamics of national politics. In the case, there are several national political issues which can initially be pursued from the region and vice versa Kebangkitan elite Kesultanan Ternate pasca-Orde Baru mengambarkan bagaimana kelompok istana memainkan peran baru agar tetap berada pada posisinya sebagai pengenggam kekuasaan di ranah lokal. Dalam hal ini, apat dipahami bahwa ada tiga faktor yang menyebabkan kemunculan elit Kesultanan Ternate Pertama, bangkitnya kekuasaan feodalistik di daerah untuk memperkuat posisi politik bersumber dari konstruksi budaya yang berbasiskan pada sejarah masa lalu maupun kesamaan genealogis. Kedua, kebangkitan secara individual Sultan Ternate Mudafar Syah dengan mengatasnamakan institusi kesultanan sebagai kendaraan politiknya. Ketiga, adanya keinginan elite Kesultanan Ternate untuk lebih diakomodasikan secara institusional ke dalam panggung politik pemerintahan formal. Realitas tersebut menunjukkan partisipasi politik Kesultanan Ternate dalam ranah politik lokal pasca-kemerdekaan hingga kini, merupakan sebuah bidang penelitian sejarah yang penting. Sebagai sebuah fenomena historis, proses dinamika politik lokal seperti ini menarik untuk diteliti, karena telah sejak lama para Sultan Ternate menjadi bagian dalam sejarah perpolitikan di Maluku Utara. Selain itu, ada sebuah pesan implisit tentang betapa parsialnya kajian politik Indonesia bila hanya memfokuskan pada dinamika politik nasional saja. Pada hal ada beberapa persoalan politik nasional yang awalnya dapat diruntut dari daerah dan begitu pula sebaliknya.

Akulturasi agama dan budaya sebagai media dakwah di Nusantara tidak bisa dilepaskan dari peran ulama (Walisanga) dan Pemerintah (elite kerajaan). Walisanga sebagai pembuat konsep dakwah, sementara raja memiliki peran sebagai penjaganya. Hal ini telah dilakukan secara turun temurun mulai dari era Demak sampai Mataram Islam. Beberapa media dakwah memiliki nilai-nilai filosofis keislaman sehingga masih tetap dilestarikan sampai saat ini, seperti wayang, gamelan, tembang dan pakaian. Artikel ini mendiskusikan pakaian adat Keraton Yogyakarta untuk melihat bentuk interpretasi pihak keraton terhadap pakaian tersebut. Penelitian ini menggunakan pendekatan emik, untuk mendiskripsikan objek pakaian taqwa sebagaimana hasil wawancara mendalam yang disampaikan oleh informan. Pemilihan informan didasarkan atas keluasaan informasi serta otoritasnya di lingkungan keraton. Analisis penelitian dilakukan dengan metode filosofis – interpretative. Hasil penelitian menunjukan pakaian taqwa memiliki dua aspek, secara internal dan eksternal. Pertama, unsur-unsur pakaian taqwa baik secara implisit maupun eksplisit diklaim oleh pihak Keraton Yogyakarta serat dengan nilai-nilai Islami sehingga bisa dijadikan sebagai salah satu media dakwah. Kedua, pakaian taqwa menjadi identitas sosial oleh Keraton Yogyakarta sebagai pewaris resmi penguasa tanah jawa Mataram Islam. Kata kunci: Pakaian adat, media dakwah, identitas sosial Acculturation of religion and culture as media of da’wah in the archipelago cannot be separated from the role of ulama (Walisanga) and the government (royal elite). Walisanga is the maker of the concept of da’wah, while the king has a role as a guardian. This has been done from generation to generation starting from the Demak era to the Islamic Mataram. Some da’wah media have islamic philosophical values so that they are still preserved today, such as wayang, gamelan, song and clothing. This article discusses the traditional clothing of the Yogyakarta palace to see the interpretations of the keraton to the clothing. This study uses an emic approach, to describe the object of piety as the results of in-depth interviews delivered by the informant. The selection of informants is based on the vast information and their authority within the palace environment. The analysis of the research was carried out using philosophical-interpretative methods. The results shows that taqwa clothing has two aspects, internally and externally. First, the elements of pious clothing are implicitly or explicitly claimed by the Yogyakarta Sultanate is filled with islamic values so that it can be used as one of the da’wah media. Second, taqwa clothing became a social identity by the Yogyakarta palace as the official heir to the Islamic Mataram javanese land. Keywords: Traditional Clothing, Da’wah Media, Social Identity

The Sultanate of Yogyakarta is the legal heir to the Islamic Mataram kingdom with a royal government system that still exists today. In the system of royal government, a Sultan (king) has the highest absolute authority, both in the form of prohibitions and orders. This research is a field research using the interview method with Nahdlatul Ulama activists (PWNU Yogyakarta) and Muhammadiyah activists (PWM Yogyakarta). This research is descriptive analytic in nature, namely an attempt to describe and collect data related to the removal of the title Khalifatullah, then an analysis of the data is carried out based on existing theories in Islamic law. The results showed that Nahdlatul Ulama activists refused to abolish the Khalifatullah title on the grounds that the Khalifatullah title contains al-'urf, and the Khalifatullah title has become a legitimacy and recognition that the line of power in the Palace is based on male offspring. Whereas Muhammadiyah activists refused to abolish the title on the grounds that they were in the leadership of the Keraton, the tradition of changing power was to adhere to a patriarchal system, and the title Khalifatullah was an affirmation that men were the ones who had the right to inherit the leadership of the Keraton. According to the author's analysis, Nahdlatul Ulama activists use the Ijtihad Jamâ'i method, namely in extracting and making decisions related to their rejection of the abolition of the Khalifatullah title by practicing qawa'id ushuliyyâh and qawa'id fiqhiyyâh and through deliberations and in-depth discussions by gathering people who understand the the problems, namely the clergy, government experts and the royal family of the palace. Whereas Muhammadiyah activists use the Al-Ijtihâd al-Istislahi method, which is more based on the illat or benefits obtained.

Jawara is part of the social structure in society since time immemorial Banten which consists of, ulama, umaro, and jawara. Because of its advantages supernatural, they actually have a noble obligation which protect the society and defend the interests of religion. However, after the transfer of power from the sultanate to the colonial government, the social structure of ulama-umaro-jawara change become, jawara-umaro-ulama. Their position in society became stronger and shifted their political behavior for the purposes of economic interests. In this context , they are trying to maintain the legitimacy of the leadership provided by the local culture. They tried to control the strategic institutions in economics and local politics while stabilizing external network to establish a good relationship with other elite, such as bureaucrats, party and military. This relationship is symbiotic, which stresses the advantages for each party. With a system of government that adopts oligarchy and conditions such Banten, the development of democracy and civil society in Banten became a very serious issue.

This study describe the dynamics of a power in Banjarnegara and to study Islam and its cultural heritage. Banjarnegara is located far from negarigung; hence, it does not become the focus study of experts. Nevertheless, Banjarnegara’s history and its culture are precious. This study is a library research based on many sources talked about Banjarnegara. The result shows that the power ruling in Banjarnegara is hereditary, but then, it has to fight against the colonial politics and higher power caused this hereditary is useless. The dynamics of a power in Banjarnegara also takes a part in developing Islam as the Walisanga ancestry are prominent figures in the area. Along with the power of Mataram, the palace gave the status of a perdikan in Kademangan Gumelem, as storage of palace’s heirlooms and burial of Islamic leaders in Banjarnegara. At this moment, Gumelem is the center of nyadran gede held by local government, a good way to fuse previous legacies and present authorities. Gumelem also bequeaths traditional batik as one of palace legacies.

Bustān al-Salāṭīn is a traditional Islamic text that tells about the history of Malay Islam, especially Aceh. Written in the 17th century by Shaykh al-Islām named Nūr al-Dīn al-Ranīrī (d. 1659), who was then under the rule of Sultan Iskandar Thani (1636-1641). This article discusses how Bustān represents the formation of the Aceh sultanate government system, the sultan who was in power when this manuscript was written, their political behavior, to the evidence of artifacts found based on information in the Bustān manuscript. The manuscript also contains 17th-century intellectual discourse as a marker of the early development of Islam in the Malay world. Reform of Muslim religious practices to change wujūdīyah Sufism. The preparation of Bustān was based on socio-religious conditions in the Aceh sultanate was advancing in the fields of politics and Islamic intellectual development. This article argues Bustān is not only a traditional Malay Islamic ancient text but more than that which can be proven archaeologically whose existence still exists today. Besides that, Bustān contributed to the pilgrimage tradition of the ‘auliyā’ where this practice is common in Java and other parts of the Muslim world. Bustān al-Salāṭīn adalah sebuah naskah tradisional Islam yang bercerita tentang sejarah Islam Melayu khususnya Aceh. Ditulis abad ke-17 oleh Syaikh al-Islām bernama Nūr al-Dīn al-Ranīrī (w. 1659) yang saat itu bawah kekuasaan Sultan Iskandar Thani (1636-1641). Artikel ini membahas bagaimana Bustān merepresentasikan pembentukan sistem pemerintahan kesultanan Aceh yang berkuasa saat naskah ini ditulis, perilaku politik mereka, hingga bukti artefak yang ditemukan berdasar informasi di dalam naskah Bustān. Naskah tersebut juga berisi wacana intelektual abad ke-17 sebagai penanda awal Islam berkembang di dunia Melayu. Reformasi praktik keagamaan umat Islam untuk mengubah sufism wujūdīyah. Penyusunan Bustān didasarkan pada kondisi sosial keagamaan yang pada saat itu kesultanan Aceh maju di bidang politik dan perkembangan intelektual Islam. Artikel ini berargumen bahwa Bustān bukan saja naskah kuno tradisional Islam Melayu, melainkan lebih dari itu yang dapat dibuktikan secara arkeologis yang keberadaannya masih ada sampai sekarang. Disamping itu Bustān berkontribusi pada tradisi ziarah para ‘auliyā’ dimana praktik ini lumrah terjadi di Jawa dan belahan dunia Muslim lainnya.

Indonesia as one of the most populated-by-Muslim country has a long historical experience in implementing Islamic law. In each era, the practice of Islamic law differs one another due to the legal politics which influence it. Prior to the Dutch colonialism, Islamic law was prevalent among Muslims with political support from the royal kingdom of Islam such as in Aceh, Palembang, Banjarmasin, Banten, Demak, Jepara, Tuban, Gersik, Ampel and Mataram. Islamic law grew and developed in the midst of society beside adat law. In the Dutch colonial era the policy of the colonial government against Islamic law had its ups and downs in line with the legal theory that emerged at the time. On the one hand, it tends to be accommodative, while confrontational on the other hand. In the era of independence the position of Islamic law became stronger with the enactment of the 1945 Constitution which guaranteed the right of every citizen to embrace religion and practise religious law. In the New Order era, several laws have been enacted, which strengthened the position of Islamic law, especially the Islamic civil law. This tends to develop in the Reform era, marked by strengthening Muslim aspirations and regional autonomy. Consequently, the Islamic law is increasingly practised, though still limited in the field of civil law and Islamic economics. The enforcement of Islamic criminal law in Indonesia still encounter many obstacles both conceptually and legally. This article will examine the existence and the prospect of Islamic law in Indonesia by observing its strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and challenges.

Sultan Agung is the greatest king in the Islamic Mataram Kingdom. He is not only talented in politics and economics, but also in the cultural arena. This article aims to examine the cultural insight of Sultan Agung in the Islamic Mataram Kingdom. That is how Sultan Agung's efforts in developing Javanese culture are closely related to Islamization in Java. This study uses a qualitative approach and historical methods. The results of the study show that Sultan Agung's cultural insight reflects the insight of the Javanese who are always willing to accept the entry of cultural elements from outside to enrich the culture they already have. With his insight, Sultan Agung was able to integrate Javanese culture with foreign culture. Among the cultural products developed by Sultan Agung are: creating legitimacy of genealogies connected to great figures, such as the Prophet Adam, the gods, the puppet king, to the king of Majapahit; create legitimacy of king titles, such as Penembahan Agung, Susuhunan, Sultan, and Khalifatullah Sayyidin Panatagama; establish a government position structure based on Islam through the Penghuluan Institution (Reh Pangulon); developing Javanese literature and language in the form of chronicles and Gendhing literature; developing the art of building, carving, painting, and music with a blend of Hindu and Islamic elements; revive the Sekaten Celebration which has developed since pre-Islamic times by updating its ceremonial equipment; and created the Javanese Islamic Calendar.

Penelitian ini bertujuan melakukan evaluasi pada manajemen klub sepakbola dengan analisis 6 fakor yang memengaruhi keberhasilan menjalani kompetisi sepakbola: (1) manajemen, (2) bauran pemasaran (3) pencarian dan sistem seleksi pemain, (4) sistem analisis performa pemain, (5) ilmu olahraga, (6) sistem politik dan kebijakan pemerintah. Penelitian evaluasi dengan model Discrepancy ini menggunakan metode deskriptif-evaluatif dengan pendekatan kualitatif. Obyek evaluasi adalah klub sepakbola PSIM Yogyakarta. Lima peserta dipilih secara sengaja sebagai partisipan wawancara. Pengumpulan data dilakukan sebagai berikut: melakukan observasi, dokumentasi dan wawancara. Validasi instrumen menggunakan ‘expert judgment’ dan analisis data kualitatif menggunakan bantuan Scientific Software ATLAS Ti. Versi 7.5.16. Hasil dari penelitian ini menunjukan bahwa fungsi-sungsi manajemen telah dilakukan oleh para stakeholder PSIM. Dalam bauran pemasaran, PSIM tidak melakukan strategi apapun, karena penjualan dilakukan oleh pihak kedua. Karena terkendala finansial, pada pemilihan pemain PSIM hanya merekrut pemain-pemain muda. Pada segi implementasi ilmu olahraga juga belum sepenuhnya dilakukan. Pada sistem regulasi dan dukungan pemerintah telah representatif dengan tupoksi masing-masing. Dengan hasil tersebut dapat disampaikan bahwa manajemen dari klub PSIM belum sepenuhnya memenuhi kriteria yang ada dalam faktor-faktor yang mendukung keberhasilan dalam menjalani kompetisi. Evaluation of Management of Perserikatan Sepakbola Indonesia Mataram (PSIM) Yogyakarta football club This purpose of study to evaluate the management of football with an analysis of 6 factors that influence the success of undergoing a football competition (1) management, (2) marketing mix, (3) player finding and selecting systems, (4) system of players' performance analysis, (5) sports science and (6) politics and state policy. Evaluation research with the Discrepancy model using a descriptive-evaluative method with a qualitative approach. The object of evaluation PSIM Yogyakarta football club. Five participants were deliberately selected as interview participants. Data collection is carried out as follows: conducting observations, documentation and interviews. Instrument validation uses 'expert judgment' and qualitative data analysis using ATLAS Ti's Scientific Software assistance. Version 7.5.16. The results of this study indicate that management functions have been carried out by PSIM stakeholders. In the marketing mix, PSIM does not carry out any strategies, because sales are carried out by second parties. Because of financial constraints, in the selection of PSIM players only recruiting young players. In terms of the implementation of sports science it has not been fully implemented. In the regulatory system and government support are representative of the respective tupoksi. With these results, it can be stated that the management of the PSIM club has not fully met the criteria in the factors that support success in undergoing competition.

Introduction I am a transmigrant who has moved back and forth between the West and the Rest. I was born and raised in a Muslim family in a predominantly Muslim country, Bangladesh, but I spent several years of my childhood in Pakistan. After my marriage, I lived in the United States for a year and a half, the Middle East for 5 years, Australia for three years, back to the Middle East for another 5 years, then, finally, in Australia for the last 12 years. I speak Bengali (my mother tongue), Urdu (which I learnt in Pakistan), a bit of Arabic (learnt in the Middle East); but English has always been my medium of instruction. So where is home? Is it my place of origin, the Muslim umma, or my land of settlement? Or is it my ‘root’ or my ‘route’ (Blunt and Dowling)? Blunt and Dowling (199) observe that the lives of transmigrants are often interpreted in terms of their ‘roots’ and ‘routes’, which are two frameworks for thinking about home, homeland and diaspora. Whereas ‘roots’ might imply an original homeland from which people have scattered, and to which they might seek to return, ‘routes’ focuses on mobile, multiple and transcultural geographies of home. However, both ‘roots’ and ‘routes’ are attached to emotion and identity, and both invoke a sense of place, belonging or alienation that is intrinsically tied to a sense of self (Blunt and Dowling 196-219). In this paper, I equate home with my root (place of birth) and route (transnational homing) within the context of the ‘diaspora and belonging’. First I define the diaspora and possible criteria of belonging. Next I describe my transnational homing within the framework of diaspora and belonging. Finally, I consider how Australia can be a ‘home’ for me and other Muslim Australians. The Diaspora and Belonging Blunt and Dowling (199) define diaspora as “scattering of people over space and transnational connections between people and the places”. Cohen emphasised the ethno-cultural aspects of the diaspora setting; that is, how migrants identify and position themselves in other nations in terms of their (different) ethnic and cultural orientation. Hall argues that the diasporic subjects form a cultural identity through transformation and difference. Speaking of the Hindu diaspora in the UK and Caribbean, Vertovec (21-23) contends that the migrants’ contact with their original ‘home’ or diaspora depends on four factors: migration processes and factors of settlement, cultural composition, structural and political power, and community development. With regard to the first factor, migration processes and factors of settlement, Vertovec explains that if the migrants are political or economic refugees, or on a temporary visa, they are likely to live in a ‘myth of return’. In the cultural composition context, Vertovec argues that religion, language, region of origin, caste, and degree of cultural homogenisation are factors in which migrants are bound to their homeland. Concerning the social structure and political power issue, Vertovec suggests that the extent and nature of racial and ethnic pluralism or social stigma, class composition, degree of institutionalised racism, involvement in party politics (or active citizenship) determine migrants’ connection to their new or old home. Finally, community development, including membership in organisations (political, union, religious, cultural, leisure), leadership qualities, and ethnic convergence or conflict (trends towards intra-communal or inter-ethnic/inter-religious co-operation) would also affect the migrants’ sense of belonging. Using these scholarly ideas as triggers, I will examine my home and belonging over the last few decades. My Home In an initial stage of my transmigrant history, my home was my root (place of birth, Dhaka, Bangladesh). Subsequently, my routes (settlement in different countries) reshaped my homes. In all respects, the ethno-cultural factors have played a big part in my definition of ‘home’. But on some occasions my ethnic identification has been overridden by my religious identification and vice versa. By ethnic identity, I mean my language (mother tongue) and my connection to my people (Bangladeshi). By my religious identity, I mean my Muslim religion, and my spiritual connection to the umma, a Muslim nation transcending all boundaries. Umma refers to the Muslim identity and unity within a larger Muslim group across national boundaries. The only thing the members of the umma have in common is their Islamic belief (Spencer and Wollman 169-170). In my childhood my father, a banker, was relocated to Karachi, Pakistan (then West Pakistan). Although I lived in Pakistan for much of my childhood, I have never considered it to be my home, even though it is predominantly a Muslim country. In this case, my home was my root (Bangladesh) where my grandparents and extended family lived. Every year I used to visit my grandparents who resided in a small town in Bangladesh (then East Pakistan). Thus my connection with my home was sustained through my extended family, ethnic traditions, language (Bengali/Bangla), and the occasional visits to the landscape of Bangladesh. Smith (9-11) notes that people build their connection or identity to their homeland through their historic land, common historical memories, myths, symbols and traditions. Though Pakistan and Bangladesh had common histories, their traditions of language, dress and ethnic culture were very different. For example, the celebration of the Bengali New Year (Pohela Baishakh), folk dance, folk music and folk tales, drama, poetry, lyrics of poets Rabindranath Tagore (Rabindra Sangeet) and Nazrul Islam (Nazrul Geeti) are distinct in the cultural heritage of Bangladesh. Special musical instruments such as the banshi (a bamboo flute), dhol (drums), ektara (a single-stringed instrument) and dotara (a four-stringed instrument) are unique to Bangladeshi culture. The Bangladeshi cuisine (rice and freshwater fish) is also different from Pakistan where people mainly eat flat round bread (roti) and meat (gosh). However, my bonding factor to Bangladesh was my relatives, particularly my grandparents as they made me feel one of ‘us’. Their affection for me was irreplaceable. The train journey from Dhaka (capital city) to their town, Noakhali, was captivating. The hustle and bustle at the train station and the lush green paddy fields along the train journey reminded me that this was my ‘home’. Though I spoke the official language (Urdu) in Pakistan and had a few Pakistani friends in Karachi, they could never replace my feelings for my friends, extended relatives and cousins who lived in Bangladesh. I could not relate to the landscape or dry weather of Pakistan. More importantly, some Pakistani women (our neighbours) were critical of my mother’s traditional dress (saree), and described it as revealing because it showed a bit of her back. They took pride in their traditional dress (shalwar, kameez, dopatta), which they considered to be more covered and ‘Islamic’. So, because of our traditional dress (saree) and perhaps other differences, we were regarded as the ‘Other’. In 1970 my father was relocated back to Dhaka, Bangladesh, and I was glad to go home. It should be noted that both Pakistan and Bangladesh were separated from India in 1947 – first as one nation; then, in 1971, Bangladesh became independent from Pakistan. The conflict between Bangladesh (then East Pakistan) and Pakistan (then West Pakistan) originated for economic and political reasons. At this time I was a high school student and witnessed acts of genocide committed by the Pakistani regime against the Bangladeshis (March-December 1971). My memories of these acts are vivid and still very painful. After my marriage, I moved from Bangladesh to the United States. In this instance, my new route (Austin, Texas, USA), as it happened, did not become my home. Here the ethno-cultural and Islamic cultural factors took precedence. I spoke the English language, made some American friends, and studied history at the University of Texas. I appreciated the warm friendship extended to me in the US, but experienced a degree of culture shock. I did not appreciate the pub life, alcohol consumption, and what I perceived to be the lack of family bonds (children moving out at the age of 18, families only meeting occasionally on birthdays and Christmas). Furthermore, I could not relate to de facto relationships and acceptance of sex before marriage. However, to me ‘home’ meant a family orientation and living in close contact with family. Besides the cultural divide, my husband and I were living in the US on student visas and, as Vertovec (21-23) noted, temporary visa status can deter people from their sense of belonging to the host country. In retrospect I can see that we lived in the ‘myth of return’. However, our next move for a better life was not to our root (Bangladesh), but another route to the Muslim world of Dhahran in Saudi Arabia. My husband moved to Dhahran not because it was a Muslim world but because it gave him better economic opportunities. However, I thought this new destination would become my home – the home that was coined by Anderson as the imagined nation, or my Muslim umma. Anderson argues that the imagined communities are “to be distinguished, not by their falsity/genuineness, but by the style in which they are imagined” (6; Wood 61). Hall (122) asserts: identity is actually formed through unconscious processes over time, rather than being innate in consciousness at birth. There is always something ‘imaginary’ or fantasized about its unity. It always remains incomplete, is always ‘in process’, always ‘being formed’. As discussed above, when I had returned home to Bangladesh from Pakistan – both Muslim countries – my primary connection to my home country was my ethnic identity, language and traditions. My ethnic identity overshadowed the religious identity. But when I moved to Saudi Arabia, where my ethnic identity differed from that of the mainstream Arabs and Bedouin/nomadic Arabs, my connection to this new land was through my Islamic cultural and religious identity. Admittedly, this connection to the umma was more psychological than physical, but I was now in close proximity to Mecca, and to my home of Dhaka, Bangladesh. Mecca is an important city in Saudi Arabia for Muslims because it is the holy city of Islam, the home to the Ka’aba (the religious centre of Islam), and the birthplace of Prophet Muhammad [Peace Be Upon Him]. It is also the destination of the Hajj, one of the five pillars of Islamic faith. Therefore, Mecca is home to significant events in Islamic history, as well as being an important present day centre for the Islamic faith. We lived in Dhahran, Saudi Arabia for 5 years. Though it was a 2.5 hours flight away, I treasured Mecca’s proximity and regarded Dhahran as my second and spiritual home. Saudi Arabia had a restricted lifestyle for women, but I liked it because it was a Muslim country that gave me the opportunity to perform umrah Hajj (pilgrimage). However, Saudi Arabia did not allow citizenship to expatriates. Saudi Arabia’s government was keen to protect the status quo and did not want to compromise its cultural values or standard of living by allowing foreigners to become a permanent part of society. In exceptional circumstances only, the King granted citizenship to a foreigner for outstanding service to the state over a number of years. Children of foreigners born in Saudi Arabia did not have rights of local citizenship; they automatically assumed the nationality of their parents. If it was available, Saudi citizenship would assure expatriates a secure and permanent living in Saudi Arabia; as it was, there was a fear among the non-Saudis that they would have to leave the country once their job contract expired. Under the circumstances, though my spiritual connection to Mecca was strong, my husband was convinced that Saudi Arabia did not provide any job security. So, in 1987 when Australia offered migration to highly skilled people, my husband decided to migrate to Australia for a better and more secure economic life. I agreed to his decision, but quite reluctantly because we were again moving to a non-Muslim part of the world, which would be culturally different and far away from my original homeland (Bangladesh). In Australia, we lived first in Brisbane, then Adelaide, and after three years we took our Australian citizenship. At that stage I loved the Barossa Valley and Victor Harbour in South Australia, and the Gold Coast and Sunshine Coast in Queensland, but did not feel at home in Australia. We bought a house in Adelaide and I was a full time home-maker but was always apprehensive that my children (two boys) would lose their culture in this non-Muslim world. In 1990 we once again moved back to the Muslim world, this time to Muscat, Sultanate of Oman. My connection to this route was again spiritual. I valued the fact that we would live in a Muslim country and our children would be brought up in a Muslim environment. But my husband’s move was purely financial as he got a lucrative job offer in Muscat. We had another son in Oman. We enjoyed the luxurious lifestyle provided by my husband’s workplace and the service provided by the housemaid. I loved the beaches and freedom to drive my car, and I appreciated the friendly Omani people. I also enjoyed our frequent trips (4 hours flight) to my root, Dhaka, Bangladesh. So our children were raised within our ethnic and Islamic culture, remained close to my root (family in Dhaka), though they attended a British school in Muscat. But by the time I started considering Oman to be my second home, we had to leave once again for a place that could provide us with a more secure future. Oman was like Saudi Arabia; it employed expatriates only on a contract basis, and did not give them citizenship (not even fellow Muslims). So after 5 years it was time to move back to Australia. It was with great reluctance that I moved with my husband to Brisbane in 1995 because once again we were to face a different cultural context. As mentioned earlier, we lived in Brisbane in the late 1980s; I liked the weather, the landscape, but did not consider it home for cultural reasons. Our boys started attending expensive private schools and we bought a house in a prestigious Western suburb in Brisbane. Soon after arriving I started my tertiary education at the University of Queensland, and finished an MA in Historical Studies in Indian History in 1998. Still Australia was not my home. I kept thinking that we would return to my previous routes or the ‘imagined’ homeland somewhere in the Middle East, in close proximity to my root (Bangladesh), where we could remain economically secure in a Muslim country. But gradually I began to feel that Australia was becoming my ‘home’. I had gradually become involved in professional and community activities (with university colleagues, the Bangladeshi community and Muslim women’s organisations), and in retrospect I could see that this was an early stage of my ‘self-actualisation’ (Maslow). Through my involvement with diverse people, I felt emotionally connected with the concerns, hopes and dreams of my Muslim-Australian friends. Subsequently, I also felt connected with my mainstream Australian friends whose emotions and fears (9/11 incident, Bali bombing and 7/7 tragedy) were similar to mine. In late 1998 I started my PhD studies on the immigration history of Australia, with a particular focus on the historical settlement of Muslims in Australia. This entailed retrieving archival files and interviewing people, mostly Muslims and some mainstream Australians, and enquiring into relevant migration issues. I also became more active in community issues, and was not constrained by my circumstances. By circumstances, I mean that even though I belonged to a patriarchally structured Muslim family, where my husband was the main breadwinner, main decision-maker, my independence and research activities (entailing frequent interstate trips for data collection, and public speaking) were not frowned upon or forbidden (Khan 14-15); fortunately, my husband appreciated my passion for research and gave me his trust and support. This, along with the Muslim community’s support (interviews), and the wider community’s recognition (for example, the publication of my letters in Australian newspapers, interviews on radio and television) enabled me to develop my self-esteem and built up my bicultural identity as a Muslim in a predominantly Christian country and as a Bangladeshi-Australian. In 2005, for the sake of a better job opportunity, my husband moved to the UK, but this time I asserted that I would not move again. I felt that here in Australia (now in Perth) I had a job, an identity and a home. This time my husband was able to secure a good job back in Australia and was only away for a year. I no longer dream of finding a home in the Middle East. Through my bicultural identity here in Australia I feel connected to the wider community and to the Muslim umma. However, my attachment to the umma has become ambivalent. I feel proud of my Australian-Muslim identity but I am concerned about the jihadi ideology of militant Muslims. By jihadi ideology, I mean the extremist ideology of the al-Qaeda terrorist group (Farrar 2007). The Muslim umma now incorporates both moderate and radical Muslims. The radical Muslims (though only a tiny minority of 1.4 billion Muslims worldwide) pose a threat to their moderate counterparts as well as to non-Muslims. In the UK, some second- and third-generation Muslims identify themselves with the umma rather than their parents’ homelands or their country of birth (Husain). It should not be a matter of concern if these young Muslims adopt a ‘pure’ Muslim identity, providing at the same time they are loyal to their country of residence. But when they resort to terrorism with their ‘pure’ Muslim identity (e.g., the 7/7 London bombers) they defame my religion Islam, and undermine my spiritual connection to the umma. As a 1st generation immigrant, the defining criteria of my ‘homeliness’ in Australia are my ethno-cultural and religious identity (which includes my family), my active citizenship, and my community development/contribution through my research work – all of which allow me a sense of efficacy in my life. My ethnic and religious identities generally co-exist equally, but when I see some Muslims kill my fellow Australians (such as the Bali bombings in 2002 and 2005) my Australian identity takes precedence. I feel for the victims and condemn the perpetrators. On the other hand, when I see politics play a role over the human rights issues (e.g., the Tampa incident), my religious identity begs me to comment on it (see Kabir, Muslims in Australia 295-305). Problematising ‘Home’ for Muslim Australians In the European context, Grillo (863) and Werbner (904), and in the Australian context, Kabir (Muslims in Australia) and Poynting and Mason, have identified the diversity within Islam (national, ethnic, religious etc). Werbner (904) notes that in spite of the “wishful talk of the emergence of a ‘British Islam’, even today there are Pakistani, Bangladeshi and Arab mosques, as well as Turkish and Shia’a mosques”; thus British Muslims retain their separate identities. Similarly, in Australia, the existence of separate mosques for the Bangladeshi, Pakistani, Arab and Shia’a peoples indicates that Australian Muslims have also kept their ethnic identities discrete (Saeed 64-77). However, in times of crisis, such as the Salman Rushdie affair in 1989, and the 1990-1991 Gulf crises, both British and Australian Muslims were quick to unite and express their Islamic identity by way of resistance (Kabir, Muslims in Australia 160-162; Poynting and Mason 68-70). In both British and Australian contexts, I argue that a peaceful rally or resistance is indicative of active citizenship of Muslims as it reveals their sense of belonging (also Werbner 905). So when a transmigrant Muslim wants to make a peaceful demonstration, the Western world should be encouraged, not threatened – as long as the transmigrant’s allegiances lie also with the host country. In the European context, Grillo (868) writes: when I asked Mehmet if he was planning to stay in Germany he answered without hesitation: ‘Yes, of course’. And then, after a little break, he added ‘as long as we can live here as Muslims’. In this context, I support Mehmet’s desire to live as a Muslim in a non-Muslim world as long as this is peaceful. Paradoxically, living a Muslim life through ijtihad can be either socially progressive or destructive. The Canadian Muslim feminist Irshad Manji relies on ijtihad, but so does Osama bin Laden! Manji emphasises that ijtihad can be, on the one hand, the adaptation of Islam using independent reasoning, hybridity and the contesting of ‘traditional’ family values (c.f. Doogue and Kirkwood 275-276, 314); and, on the other, ijtihad can take the form of conservative, patriarchal and militant Islamic values. The al-Qaeda terrorist Osama bin Laden espouses the jihadi ideology of Sayyid Qutb (1906-1966), an Egyptian who early in his career might have been described as a Muslim modernist who believed that Islam and Western secular ideals could be reconciled. But he discarded that idea after going to the US in 1948-50; there he was treated as ‘different’ and that treatment turned him against the West. He came back to Egypt and embraced a much more rigid and militaristic form of Islam (Esposito 136). Other scholars, such as Cesari, have identified a third orientation – a ‘secularised Islam’, which stresses general beliefs in the values of Islam and an Islamic identity, without too much concern for practices. Grillo (871) observed Islam in the West emphasised diversity. He stressed that, “some [Muslims were] more quietest, some more secular, some more clamorous, some more negotiatory”, while some were exclusively characterised by Islamic identity, such as wearing the burqa (elaborate veils), hijabs (headscarves), beards by men and total abstinence from drinking alcohol. So Mehmet, cited above, could be living a Muslim life within the spectrum of these possibilities, ranging from an integrating mode to a strict, militant Muslim manner. In the UK context, Zubaida (96) contends that marginalised, culturally-impoverished youth are the people for whom radical, militant Islamism may have an appeal, though it must be noted that the 7/7 bombers belonged to affluent families (O’Sullivan 14; Husain). In Australia, Muslim Australians are facing three challenges. First, the Muslim unemployment rate: it was three times higher than the national total in 1996 and 2001 (Kabir, Muslims in Australia 266-278; Kabir, “What Does It Mean” 63). Second, some spiritual leaders have used extreme rhetoric to appeal to marginalised youth; in January 2007, the Australian-born imam of Lebanese background, Sheikh Feiz Mohammad, was alleged to have employed a DVD format to urge children to kill the enemies of Islam and to have praised martyrs with a violent interpretation of jihad (Chulov 2). Third, the proposed citizenship test has the potential to make new migrants’ – particularly Muslims’ – settlement in Australia stressful (Kabir, “What Does It Mean” 62-79); in May 2007, fuelled by perceptions that some migrants – especially Muslims – were not integrating quickly enough, the Howard government introduced a citizenship test bill that proposes to test applicants on their English language skills and knowledge of Australian history and ‘values’. I contend that being able to demonstrate knowledge of history and having English language skills is no guarantee that a migrant will be a good citizen. Through my transmigrant history, I have learnt that developing a bond with a new place takes time, acceptance and a gradual change of identity, which are less likely to happen when facing assimilationist constraints. I spoke English and studied history in the United States, but I did not consider it my home. I did not speak the Arabic language, and did not study Middle Eastern history while I was in the Middle East, but I felt connected to it for cultural and religious reasons. Through my knowledge of history and English language proficiency I did not make Australia my home when I first migrated to Australia. Australia became my home when I started interacting with other Australians, which was made possible by having the time at my disposal and by fortunate circumstances, which included a fairly high level of efficacy and affluence. If I had been rejected because of my lack of knowledge of ‘Australian values’, or had encountered discrimination in the job market, I would have been much less willing to embrace my host country and call it home. I believe a stringent citizenship test is more likely to alienate would-be citizens than to induce their adoption of values and loyalty to their new home. Conclusion Blunt (5) observes that current studies of home often investigate mobile geographies of dwelling and how it shapes one’s identity and belonging. Such geographies of home negotiate from the domestic to the global context, thus mobilising the home beyond a fixed, bounded and confining location. Similarly, in this paper I have discussed how my mobile geography, from the domestic (root) to global (route), has shaped my identity. Though I received a degree of culture shock in the United States, loved the Middle East, and was at first quite resistant to the idea of making Australia my second home, the confidence I acquired in residing in these ‘several homes’ were cumulative and eventually enabled me to regard Australia as my ‘home’. I loved the Middle East, but I did not pursue an active involvement with the Arab community because I was a busy mother. Also I lacked the communication skill (fluency in Arabic) with the local residents who lived outside the expatriates’ campus. I am no longer a cultural freak. I am no longer the same Bangladeshi woman who saw her ethnic and Islamic culture as superior to all other cultures. I have learnt to appreciate Australian values, such as tolerance, ‘a fair go’ and multiculturalism (see Kabir, “What Does It Mean” 62-79). My bicultural identity is my strength. With my ethnic and religious identity, I can relate to the concerns of the Muslim community and other Australian ethnic and religious minorities. And with my Australian identity I have developed ‘a voice’ to pursue active citizenship. Thus my biculturalism has enabled me to retain and merge my former home with my present and permanent home of Australia. References Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London, New York: Verso, 1983. Australian Bureau of Statistics: Census of Housing and Population, 1996 and 2001. Blunt, Alison. Domicile and Diaspora: Anglo-Indian Women and the Spatial Politics of Home. 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Citation reference for this article MLA Style Kabir, Nahid. "Why I Call Australia ‘Home’?: A Transmigrant’s Perspective." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/15-kabir.php>. APA Style Kabir, N. (Aug. 2007) "Why I Call Australia ‘Home’?: A Transmigrant’s Perspective," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/15-kabir.php>.