Polygamy Talk and the Politics of Feminism: Contestations over ...

Polygamy Talk and the Politics of Feminism:
Contestations over Masculinity in a New Muslim Indonesia

Sonja van Wichelen 1

Abstract
The political downfall of the Suharto administration in 1998 marked the end of
the “New Order”, which was characterized by a 32-year period of authoritarian rule.
Opening the way for democracy, it included the unlocking of Indonesian politics for the
influence and participation of political Islam, which the New Order discouraged or
banned. This shift led to a proliferation of Islamic issues in the public and political
sphere. Many of them concerned issues of gender and have triggered profound debates
about women’s rights and gender equality. This article examines one of these public
concerns over “Islam and gender”, namely polygamy. It assesses how the issue of
polygamy is debated in post-authoritarian Indonesia and scrutinizes the ways in which
women’s groups, organizations, and different forms of feminism have played an active
role in these debates. As my analysis will demonstrate, the contestations between the
different women’s groups show a far more multifaceted picture of “polygamy talk” which
cannot solely be reduced to issues of Islam and gender. Rather, the case study showed
that their perspectives intersected with identity politics informed by postcoloniality,
modernity, religion, nationality, and globalization. It is through these specters that this
article aims to understand the complexity of a transiting Indonesia greatly affected by
processes of Islamization and democratization.

Keywords: Gender, Indonesia, Discourse Analysis

Introduction
In March 2003, the popular Indonesian daily Media Indonesia announced the
following headline: “Polygamy Juice Ordered by the Megawati Family” (Media
Indonesia, 16 March 2003). The newspaper reported about the famous restaurant
franchise called “Solonese Man” (Wong Solo) owned by the entrepreneur Puspo
Wardoyo. The restaurant, known for its roasted chicken marinated in Javanese spices,
launched its new fruit shake called polygamy juice made out of avocado, mango, soursop,
and papaya, and apparently a favorite order for President Megawati’s delegation at the
restaurant. When asked why Puspo Wardoyo – a polygamous man himself and married to
four women – named his new drink product polygamy juice, he replied that he wanted to
make the practice of polygamy more visible and more acceptable. His ambition was to
make people proud, rather than blush, when they would introduce their second or third
wife.

1 Sonja van Wichelen is currently a Postdoctoral Fellow with the Pembroke Center at Brown University.
Before that she held a Postdoctoral Fellowship with the Center for Cultural Sociology at Yale University
(2007-2009). Her research focuses on cultural politics in the age of globalization and engages with issues of
religion, gender, transnational adoption, ethnicity, and multiculturalism. sonja_vanwichelen@brown.edu



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Since then, Puspo Wardoyo involved himself in many activities surrounding the
topic of polygamy. He published several books and frequently talked on national
television about the virtues of practicing multiple marriages simultaneously. Especially
during the Ramadan fasting month he and his wives were a much featured topic on radio
and television. Most noted, however, was the Polygamy Award which was set up by
Wardoyo to award men who were regarded to have successful polygamous marriages.
Although a relatively small event, the contest attracted nationwide attention. Amply
covered by mass media, it caused a public outcry in different factions of Indonesian
society. A public debate on polygamy came into effect with arguments in favor or against
the practice.
This article examines the pro-polygamy campaign, but instead of describing the
occurrence of polygamy as such, my concern is to examine what’s “at stake” in
defending, justifying, or defying polygamy as promoted by the campaign. Through which
frameworks were arguments defined and formulated? And in what ways do gender,
sexuality, and religiosity feed into these discussions? My analysis suggests that the
resurgence of polygamy served as a lightening rod for debate among Islamists and
feminists. Rather than reflecting a more doctrinal return to Islam, it exemplified
contestations over ideas of manhood and masculinity. While new forms of masculinities
are reconfigured, Islamization and democratization processes alter the hegemonic status
of nominal Muslim masculinity. I explore how these new manifestations relate to
responses from feminist and Islamist women’s groups and assess their implications for a
feminist politics in Indonesia.

Marginal Practice, Ubiquitous Discourse
While the idea of polygamy is widespread and not uncommon, its prevalence
within different cultures and religious societies is comparatively uncommon (Altman and
Ginat 1996: 40). This is also the case in Indonesia, where, in general, polygamy has been
infrequently practiced.2 The debate on polygamy, however, has been fierce and anything
but new in Indonesian public discourse.3 Polygamy in particular and the Family Law in
general have long been debated which in certain historical periods resulted in legal
reforms. On the one hand, attempts to ban polygamy have often failed especially because
of “the symbolic importance of the Qur’anic passage that allows it” (Lev 1996: 193).
Although there were times where polygamy was limited to strict conditions, the practice
of polygamy as such was never prohibited or criminalized. On the other hand, polygamy
was never institutionalized in such a way that men could easily obtain the court’s

2 Figures from the 1930 census showed that only 2.6 percent of all Indonesian men in the Netherlands-
Indies practiced polygamy. The data in the most densely populated Java was even lower, namely 1.9
percent. In the outer islands, the percentages were higher, ranging from 3.1 in Sulawesi to 13.5 in Sumba
(Jones 1994: 269). After an increase during the Sukarno’s Old Order, the New Order indicated a slight
decrease as specified by the 1973 Fertility-Mortality survey. See especially table 7.1 in Jones 1994: 269.
Here the data was divided in regions: Java 1.9 percent, Sumatra 4.4 percent; Sulawesi 3.1 percent, Maluku
4.2 percent; Bali and Lombok 4.0 percent; Timor and vicinity 8.1 percent (with Sumba having the highest
score, namely 13.5 percent). See also Locher Scholten 2000: 212, footnote 9, for a discussion on the figures
in this period.
3 Although the correct English term here is polygyny and the Indonesian word for polygyny is permaduan
(madu means honey), I chose to use the emic term polygami which was used in everyday language and
media coverage in Indonesia.

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permission to marry another wife. Women’s groups and secularist groups successfully
deployed restrictions on the legal feasibilities of polygamy.
The new political organization of post-Suharto Indonesia brought about
significant changes in the socio-legal make-up of polygamy. In light of Islamic demands
to lift prohibition of Islamic practices, the Muslim Unity Organization (persatuan Islam
or persis) demanded a retraction of a decree in the Indonesian Marriage Law that
prohibited civil servants and state officials from having more than one wife (the so-called
PP10 regulation). In September 2000, the parliament under the administration of
President Abdurrahman Wahid agreed to annul the controversial regulation. After
seventeen years of relative silence on the issue of polygamy, the fall of Suharto brought
about a re-opening of the controversial topic. Administrations under Wahid and
Megawati loosened or dropped legal restrictions on polygamy not so much because these
administrations were unified in their approval of the practice, but because they needed to
accommodate Islamic demands for various socio-political reasons.
The discourse of polygamy became increasingly visible and also promoted
through various public manifestations. Politicians became increasingly more open about
their polygamous marriages (Asmarani 2002) and polygamy became fashionable among
men of the upper middle classes (Feillard 1999: 20). Books about polygamy mushroomed
in mainstream bookstores with titles such as The Beauty of Polygamy, The Wives of the
Prophet and Polygamy from the Perspective of Islam (Gatra 2003a) and the popular
magazine Polygam emerged in 2000 which included sections called “firstpolygamy”,
illustrating stories of first wives, or “polycelebrity”, depicting polygamous practices of
celebrities (Gatra 2003b). These discursive shifts in representations of polygamy were
also reflected in people’s attitudes toward the practice. According to a study based on
opinion polls 37 percent of the population agrees with the view that men can have more
than one wife (Liddle and Mujani 2004: 115).
Perceptions on polygamy were strongly shaped by symbolic figures and icons of
polygamy or anti-polygamy. Important polygamy icons in the past included the former
president Sukarno but also the images of reigning kings of the central Javanese Surakarta
that shaped common thoughts on polygamy as being reserved for the wealthy. The
phenomenon of Puspo Wardoyo should be set against this background. Increasing images
of prominent polygamous men, increasing propagation of books on polygamy, and the
polygamy promoting campaigns of the notorious entrepreneur all contributed to a belief
that a resurgence of polygamy is taking place in Indonesia today. The heated debate on
polygamy had begun, and took to a climax with the (in)famous event of the Polygamy
Award (explained below).

The Pro-Polygamy Campaign
Puspo Wardoyo’s secret to success – he claims – is polygamy. “Many women,
many children, and much fortune” is his slogan (Suryono 2003a: 44). Because he wants
to share the secret to his success with others he organizes events and gatherings to
socialize the idea and virtues of polygamy. Journalists and the public take an eager
interest in his activities. Local and national media amply covered his events and
gatherings while celebrities like the television preacher Abdullah Gymnastiar supported
Wardoyo’s endeavor publicly. He was on numerous discussion panels for programs on
national television and had his own radio talk show in Bandung called Puspolygamy. In

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all of these events and activities, Wardoyo and his wives would explain the why, how,
and what of polygamy.
The most talked about event was the so-called Polygamy Award. In July 2003,
together with the Indonesian Polygamy Society (Masyarakat Poligami Indonesia), which
he himself had founded, Wardoyo organized, sponsored, and hosted the Polygamy Award
event. This contest took place in the chic Aryaduta hotel in central Jakarta and its
intention was to award men who were regarded to have successful polygamous
marriages. Among the dozens of nominees was also the vice president Hamzah Haz.
Approximately a thousand people attended the event. Among them were prominent
celebrities, politicians, and religious leaders who supported and celebrated the event.
Angry activists were also present, and protested the ceremony. In the end, thirty-seven
men received trophies for winning the polygamy award.

Sexual Potency, Wealth, and Status
In Polygamy: The Secret of Success to Having Many Wives, Wardoyo reflects on
the topic of impotence which he regards as a myth kept alive to sustain the system of
monogamy:

[T]here is no such thing as a man being impotent. Men desire polygamy because of their
sexual drive, but it is not because of [the woman’s] neck, breasts, or private parts. The
drive is triggered by her smile, her smell, her beauty and softness. This is what is given
by God (disunnahkan) and many wives do not have this anymore because they do not
have rivals. In the meantime, the practice of prostitution that is selling the [womanly]
features described above is increasing. That is why many men, who have a weak faith,
choose to buy the sateh [meat snack] rather than the goat. In the end the wife too takes
the directive: “let it [the bottle] be empty, as long as the bottle returns” (Wardoyo 2003a:
42).

Man’s stamina, hyper-sexuality, and sex as a biological drive were recurring
arguments. This “libido” argument, based on the thought that men have a stronger
biological urge for sexual intercourse than women, underscores the naturalness of men’s
hyper sexuality. While this claim is neither new nor uncommon in other parts of the
world, the “libido” argument is here linked to polygamy. Because of the normalized
public discourse that “men-need-more-sex-than-women”, women marginally allow or
(grudgingly) accept their husbands’ affairs with other women. Women do sometimes
argue that men need more sexual intercourse but they do not want their husbands to
marry another woman. They “prefer” instead that their husbands “snack” outside of the
house and don’t bring the “goat” home (Brenner 1996: 152, Suryakusuma 1996: 115).
Having an affair outside of wedlock (secretive) is preferable to having them marry their
mistresses.
Men’s sexual desire is related to the Indonesian concept nafsu. Placed in Javanese
tradition, it concerns desire as a whole: as a passion relating to love, sex, money or work.
When excessively present and uncontrolled, especially when involving money, nafsu can
become an irrational emotion that excludes rational reasoning that is potentially
dangerous to the individual, the family and society (Brenner 1996: 150). However, as
Brenner further observes:


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Many Javanese men and women seem to take as a given that this desire is extremely
difficult for them to suppress. Although this notion runs counter to both Javanese and
Islamic ideologies that hold males to have greater control of their instincts and emotions
than females, I encountered it often enough to be convinced that it was not just the
idiosyncratic opinion of a few individuals. The degree to which it actually contradicts the
ideology of male potency is debateable, however, since it reaffirms male sexual potency
– a concomitant of male spiritual potency (Anderson 1990) – even as it challenges men’s
ability to master their passions (1996: 150).

In contrast to the cultural value of men’s ability to master their passions, in Puspo
Wardoyo’s terms, these passions should not be controlled or withheld. Wardoyo warns
that the way of the “emergency backdoor” (pintu darurat), which includes adultery
(perzinaan) or visits to a prostitute, is the wrong way. It does not follow Islamic
teachings and should be avoided at any costs. The right way is polygamy and when
practiced in an Islamic way, it can solve the problem of man’s “excess” of sexual
potency. Instead of going to prostitutes or mistresses, which leave these women with no
material security, men should take their responsibility and marry the women to whom
they feel attracted. In this respect, it is not so much the sexual drive that can be held
against men, but of not properly taking the consequences of wanting to act upon these
biological urges. Man’s sexual desire, however, is not scrutinized.
Male sexual potency, status, and virility is emphasized as interrelated to Javanese
political thought (Anderson 1990: 32). Virility without fertility indicates a personal
indulgence in sexuality and greed (pamrih), which lowers one’s status rather than
increases it (Anderson 1990: 51). Because Wardoyo’s form of polygamy connects
virility with fertility, his nafsu is not a form of personal indulgence, but a masculine act
that coincides with notions of power and status in Javanese thought. Interlocking with
nafsu is money and wealth. Wardoyo claims that his business only started to flourish after
he started to practice polygamy. He sees polygamy, then, as belonging to one of his
Islamic business ethics.
Javanese ornaments decorate his restaurants, betraying an ethnic Javanese
dominance in his choices of marketing. The connection of polygamy with social status
echoes back to images of a Javanese past. Aristocratic wealth and status was associated
with the luxury of having many women. An iconic image of polygamy involves the
images of wealthy polygamous men from Javanese royal courts. Royal kings were known
to have multiple wives (besides their numerous mistresses) reaching sometimes fifty
women. Although seen as (material) excess, the Javanese kings were also regarded as
having great sexual potency which acted as legitimacy for men and women to endorse the
practice. This legitimacy was reserved for elite and wealthy men only who could afford
to maintain the costs of having multiple households.
Translating this imagery back onto Puspo Wardoyo, the “Soloneseness” of
Wardoyo plays a crucial part in turning him into an icon of polygamy. In contemporary
discourse, the city Solo is still recognized as the origin of Javanese culture and ethics. To
refer to a “wong Solo”, implies the typification of a Solonese “man” as an archetype of
Javanese culture and religion. The self-acclaimed wong Solo Puspo Wardoyo, taps into
this cultural archetype by feeding into cultural stereotypes and images of the Javanese
past.

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Modernity and Piety
The manner, style, and language in which Wardoyo conveys his message
resemble modern (western) talk show-styles or self-help books that overflow the western
(and increasingly the non-western) book market. They supply in a demand of men and
women searching for answers on how to improve their body and their Self, how to
improve their marriage, how to live their life (more) spiritually, and ultimately, how to
reach a more fulfilling life. In more ways than one, these programs and books replace
earlier tasks of the church where the local priest would advice on personal, familial, or
life problems. In the pro-polygamy campaign, religion is not replaced by modernity, but
is produced by it.
Puspo Wardoyo conveyed the message that polygamy is not old-fashioned but
modern. He does not, for instance, oppose working women, which he regards as an idea
of modernity. By marrying a career woman she can continue to do her work while other
wives take care of the children. This perspective is most clearly propagated by one of his
fervent woman supporters Sitoresmi Prabuningrat, the third wife of a famous band player
and ex-wife of the well-known former Indonesian poet Rendra. At the event of the
Polygamy award, she was one of the main speakers. In her answer to someone from the
audience who commented that polygamy did not appeal to career women, Sitoresmi
answered that she considered herself to be a career woman and that polygamy helps her
with this (Yuningsih 2003). By practicing polygamy, she can divide the household and
childrearing tasks with the co-wives, thus, leaving her with enough time to devote her
attention to her career.
Of great effect was the deployment of women’s own narratives. Wardoyo’s wives
often accompanied him and talked about the virtues of polygamy. All argued that they
would rather see their husband re-marry than commit adultery or seek prostitutes.
Acknowledging that they are hurt when their husband seeks his pleasure elsewhere, they
nevertheless prefer that their family stays intact in an “Islamic way”. As Rini Purwanti,
Wardoyo’s first wife argues:

When that happened, I felt very dejected. But because this has turned into destiny, I could
accept it with a breath of happiness. I always pray: “Oh Allah, if this is indeed Your truth,
please make my heart accept this without any hesitation” (Suryono 2003b: 56).

Purwanti, who is a lecturer at a university in northern Sumatra, follows a narrative
that is exemplary of “first wife” narratives. Feelings of hurt and betrayal were well-
known to accompany narratives of women who experienced their husbands marrying
another woman. Often, these narratives of victimization provoked sympathy for the first
wife and a justification of the wife distancing, leaving, divorcing, or even mistreating
their polygamous husband. Although Purwanti acknowledged that she felt dejected, this
was not because of her husband’s wrong-doings. It was her that needed to reconcile with
a destiny that she did not foresee. Although it took her a while, with the help of God, she
could finally accept her husband’s marriage to another woman. Purwanti’s ultimate
strength in overcoming her sense of betrayal lies not, however, in the actions or promises
of her husband. It is not the way in which he is just or kind to her and all of the other
wives. Her framework to justify and accept her polygamous marriage with Wardoyo is
Islam.

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In contrast, Wardoyo’s fourth wife Intan Tri Laksmi does not only refer to Islam
to justify her choice for polygamy. The young law-graduate points out that the dominant
reason for women to agree to polygamy lies not so much in them being materially
dependent on their (future) husband. At present, she observes that the women are pretty,
highly educated, and have good careers. Nevertheless, Laksmi argues, these women are
left with no husband. It appears difficult for them to find an eligible husband. Out of fear
of not finding a husband in time, polygamy can be an alternative (Suryono 2003c: 70), a
solution for modern career women to “still” get married.
The new take on polygamy was increasingly voiced by single and successful
women, arguing they would not rule out a polygamous marriage as an option. Because of
their careers, they were not able to take care of their husbands or children full time
(Koran Tempo, 10 August 2003; Soegiharto 2006). For some, polygamy is a (last) option
when it is the only remaining way for them to “still” get married (Rahmawati 2004).
“Singleness” in general, but female singleness in particular is on the increase in the major
cities and is often regarded as the accompanying ills of modernity. Single-hood,
however, has not been valued much and women feel the pressure of getting married as
soon as they hit the age of twenty-five. Wardoyo appealed to this problem. While
supporting the idea of working women, he claims that they should not remain single.

Reconfiguring Masculinity
In his much appraised work Masculinities (1995), the sociologist Raewyn Connell
outlined different categories of masculinities that operate within the sphere of masculine
power: hegemonic, complicit, marginalized, and subordinated masculinities. They should
not to be conflated with identities or personalities, but should be understood as gender
practices through which individuals can access social legitimacy and power. In critiquing
Connel’s concept of “hegemonic masculinity,” Demetriou argues that the concept
reproduces a dualism of hegemonic and non- hegemonic masculinities “as two distinct
and clearly differentiated configurations of practice” (2001: 347). Rather than seeing
hegemonic masculinity as a closed and unified totality which incorporated no otherness”
(347), the production of hegemonic masculinity should be understood as working through
a process of negotiation, translation, hybridization, and reconfiguration (2001: 349). With
this understanding, the increase of masculinist representations could be viewed as
negotiating or reconfiguring masculinity in post-authoritarian times. Occurring with and
not against cultural ideals, they reproduce new realms of masculine power next to earlier
hegemonic masculinities of New Order gender ideology.4

When we look at hegemonic (male) masculinity or at the prevalent notion of
manhood during the Old Order or the New Order, there are three different interrelating
factors that contribute to shaping a hegemonic masculinity in Indonesia, first a notion of
“fatherism” (bapakism), second the strong dominance of Javanese-centric ethnicity, and
third a loyalty to the nation. Fatherism adheres to paternal, feudal, and authoritative
qualities of Indonesian manhood in their relationships with other men, with women, and
with children (Suryakusuma 1987, 1996: 95, 102). Javanism is central to shaping this
fatherism. The centrality of Javanese-centric ideas, beliefs, and philosophies in

4 The few works focusing on masculinity in the Old Order (1945-1965) and New Order Indonesia (1965-
1998) emphasize a strong Javaneseness in the construction of hegemonic masculinity in Indonesia in which
mysticism rather than Islam is emphasized (See Anderson 1990, Boellstorf 2004, and Sunindyo 1998).

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Indonesian nation-building has been illuminated by Benedict Anderson’s study into the
workings of power in Javanese culture and how this contributes to mechanisms in
Indonesian politics (1972; 1990). Here, the association of Javaneseness and masculinity
played an important role in affirming and obtaining status or spiritual power. Finally, the
mechanisms of masculinity in the workings of nationalism worked constitutively since
the beginning of nationalism’s struggle against colonialism. It was not Islam, or culture,
race, or ethnicity that fought the Dutch, but the “modern” sense of nationhood, which was
partly influenced by ideas of nationalism from the West. It is therefore not an “Islamic
masculinity” that formed and shaped a hegemonic masculinity, but Javanese fatherism
and “Indonesianness”.
The anthropologist Richard Howard argued: “A rich and powerful man may
exude a kind of sexual power and virility and may have sexual relationships with many
women, but his identity as a ‘normal male’ is only achieved within the structure of the
family unit” (1996: 253). Hence, within the national framework, the ideal man was
primarily defined through frameworks of marriage and family, for instance by remaining
monogamous and by being a responsible breadwinner for the family (Heider 1991;
Howard 1996). Moreover, the New Order in particular conveyed a strong
heteronormative ideology, which played an important role in imagining the nation and
modern citizen-family (Boellstorff 2004: 470). Considering the stringent measures that
the New Order administration took to prohibit polygamy, the ideology extended to a
monogamous heteronormative ideology, which most resembled western constructions.
“Islamic masculinity,” understood as a construction of masculinity in which religious
identity is emphasized, was not part of the dominant discourse on Indonesian manhood
and can therefore be identified as being marginalized.
But with socio-political and religious changes becoming visible in late New Order
and expanding in post Suharto times, notions of masculinity are shifting, and evidently
challenging hegemonic positions. The pro-polygamy and masculinist discourse of Puspo
Wardoyo needs to be set against this background, in which the dominant Indonesian idea
of manhood seems to be in a crisis for it competes with alternative, especially Islamic,
definitions that are getting stronger and receiving more legitimacy. But besides
Islamization, another historical development of the past few decades deeply influenced
Indonesians’ perceptions of manhood, namely women’s emancipation. Combined with
processes of Islamization, it led to a significant rupture in common ideas of Indonesian
masculinity.

Crisis and “Backlash”
News surfaced in 2006 that Ade Armando, a well-known public intellectual who
vehemently opposed polygamy, had started practicing polygamy. Moreover, the popular
Islamic preacher Aa Gym, who communicated widely that it was better not to practice
polygamy, similarly announced that he married another woman (Diani and Suwarni
2006).5 These details are significant in so far that they articulate masculinist desires and
involve men with a new religious background. Men like Puspo Wardoyo, Rhoma Irama,
and Ade Armando, are not men coming from mainstream Islamic organizations such as

5 As soon as the news about Aa Gym’s second marriage came out, the attendance to his sermons dropped
considerably. His decision angered many Muslims, especially women (Suwarni 2006).

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Nahdlatul Ulama or Muhammadiyah. Instead, they come from nominal (secular or
cultural) backgrounds.
This is also true for a new generation of young Islamic preachers. Among them is
the prominent Islamic media preacher Abdullah Gymnastiar, the “hip” and popular young
preacher (ustad) Jeffry Al-Buchori (also known as Uje), and Ustad Arifin Illham. All
three have in common that they did not enjoy a classic Islamic upbringing. Some of them
have “re-born” narratives, such as Ustad Jeffry Al-Buchori, who before becoming an
Islamic preacher was an actor in Indonesian films and drama. After a downhill career in
which he eventually resorted to drugs and gambling he converted to becoming a pious
Muslim and started to work for God rather than for money and fame. Much of the new,
young, and “hip” male Muslim narratives adhere to these “re-born” narratives
comparable to narratives of reborn Christians in the United States. In the public sphere,
these new Islamic-identified men are producing new constructions of manhood. With
respect to polygamy, they all are (still) monogamous, but share the conviction that
polygamy is a legitimate Islamic practice (Bakri, Sawariyanto, and Yuniardi 2005;
Watson 2005). The masculinist discourse should be set against this background of “new-
born” Muslims.
Literature on gender relations in the New Order explicated that New Order’s
ideology concerning women was contradictory (Brenner 1999, Hatley 1999, Sen 1998).
While promoting women to become modern career women, the ideology also warned
these same women not to go “too far”. Women in the long run should not forget their
family and they should not take away men’s jobs. As Brenner’s analysis of New Order
women’s magazines inform us, the message conveyed is not so much that women should
not work, but rather that they should not prioritize their careers over family and marriage.
When they do give priority to their careers, they could become a threat to men. She could
run the risk of emasculating men, driving them “into the arms of other women in order to
rescue his manhood” (Brenner 1999: 28). The new masculinist discourse affirms this
belief. Especially in light of the Asian economic crisis, in which men became
increasingly unemployed, the thrift catching-up development of women in the workforce
often implied a threat to men who lost confidence in finding a job.
The pro-polygamy debate should be understood as signaling a “crisis of
masculinity”. Confrontations to hegemonic understandings of the Indonesian family,
gender relations, and sexuality correlated with the collapse of the highly patriarchal
Suharto regime. According to Marshall Clark, Indonesian masculinity is undergoing a
period of uncertainty (2004: 131). Reading the film Kuldesak, he argues that the
Indonesian male is torn between outdated and archetypal images of the man (such as
illustrated in Javanese mythology) and new, alternative, images of the man that are more
ambiguous and hybrid. Clark further indicates: “With the fall of Suharto, and the
disappointment of leaders such as Gus Dur and Megawati, it appears that the days of a
unifying, all conquering, male hero à la Sukarno – who often likened himself to the
heroic Bima or Gatotkaca of the Wayang – are long gone” (Ibid.). Clark optimistically
indicates that the opening up of democratic spaces in Indonesia will contribute to a less
conservative patriarchal stereotype of masculinity. In light of the new pro-polygamy
discourse, I am reluctant in asserting this optimism. Although the pro- polygamy
discourse does suggest a crisis of hegemonic masculinity, it does not seek less patriarchal
or less conservative definitions of Indonesian manhood. Instead, discourses of

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hypermasculinity and (Javanese) paternalism are reaffirmed – albeit enveloped in an
Islamic framework.

Women Debating Polygamy
In general, the public approached the Puspo Wardoyo phenomenon as a display of
social status and cultural capital, dismissing his plea for a polygamous society as an act of
hypocrisy (Ihsan 2003). Although highly mediatized and vastly exposed, the masculinist
advocacy of polygamy did not carry much empathy in the Muslim public. Mainstream
Muslim groups did not approve of Puspo Wardoyo’s campaign. He did not, for instance,
draw much official support from the Islamic mainstream organizations such as the
traditionalist Nahdlatul Ulama or the modernist Muhammadiyah, nor did he draw support
from official governmental institutions such as the Indonesian Council of Ulama (MUI).
Even the more neo-fundamentalist groups, such as Hizbut Tahrir and the militant Laskar
Jihad were against the so called socialization of polygamy: “polygamy is the doctrine of
Islam, not of Puspo Wardoyo” (Gatra 2003a).6 The negative reaction toward Puspo
Wardoyo’s pro-polygamy campaign, however, did not mean they were against polygamy
as such. While mainstream modernists, traditionalists, and Islamists dismissed Wardoyo’s
campaign, they clearly justified the practice of polygamy in general by centering their
arguments on verses in the Qur’an, the hadith (traditions), and the fiqh (jurisprudence).7
The campaigns contributed to triggering a more profound debate on polygamy. It
especially did not go unchallenged by feminist groups. Whereas male secularists
hesitated in fully critiquing polygamy, women’s opposition was very vocal. Although
they formed a united front in the public’s opinion, the discourses of the women’s groups
that opposed polygamy varied according to secular and (liberal) Muslim frameworks.
Polygamy appeared to be one of the most salient issues in stressing the distinctive
features of a fragmented and at times divided Indonesian feminism. While secular
feminists regarded polygamy as a form of violence against women, Muslim feminists
pointed toward misogynist readings of Qur’anic verses and the hadith.8


6 Unofficially, however, there were individuals from these same organizations who have supported him and
have used his credentials to give their view legitimacy.
7 Bluntly formulated these included the justification “It is in the Qur’an” and the justification “The prophet
Muhammad performed it too”. The first argument, which follows the justification of polygamy on the
grounds of textual evidence in the Qur’an, is based on the fourth chapter (surat) An-Nisa, verse three,
which reads: “And if ye fear that ye will not deal fairly by the orphans, marry of the women, who seem
good to you, two or three or four (Qur’an 4: 3)”. A second theological argument that was prevalent
believed polygamy was allowed because it followed Islamic law based on the teachings and practices of
Prophet Muhammad. This argument followed the narrative of Muhammad’s life who after the death of
Khadija, his first wife with whom he led a monogamous life, married Sawda bint Zama, Aisha and Hafsa.
Later he married more wives until a total of eleven. By referring to the practices of the prophet himself,
polygamy is regarded as something that is halal, following the “Islamic way”.
8 Muslim and Islamic feminists argue for instance that the verse does not only mention that polygamy is
allowed: the verse also states clear limitations. While literally the teachings of the Qur’an allow polygamy,
the text also explicitly explains that there are strict conditions appended. They point out the necessity not to
dismiss the verses that accompany the An-Nisa verse 4:3, namely, “[…] and if ye fear that ye cannot do
justice (to so many) then one (only) or (the captives) that your right hands possess. Thus it is more likely
that ye will not do injustice.” (Qur’an 4:3), or from verse 129, “Ye will not be able to deal equally between
(your) wives, however much ye wish (to do so). […]” (Qur’an 4: 129). These verses actually point out that
it is rather difficult to be polygamous in a just way.

Journal of International Women’s Studies Vol. 11 #1 November 2009
182

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