Competing Islamic Ideologies and Influence Operations in Indonesia: The Case of Ghazwul Fikri in Cyberspace

INTRODUCTION

As the country with the world’s largest Muslim population, Indonesia has seen a long-standing conflict between various strands of the third major Abrahamic faith. After the downfall of President Soeharto in 1998, this conflict has been characterised by a struggle between the puritan or conservative forces of Islam and their more liberal and progressive rivals. Conventional wisdom holds that the conservative forces within Indonesian Islam — represented by several Salafi groups, the Prosperous Justice Party (Partai Keadilan Sejahtera, PKS), the Islam Defenders Front (Front Pembela Islam, FPI), and Hizbut Tahrir Indonesia (HTI) — have benefited from the Internet’s technological affordances. Indonesian Islamist groups have produced several influencers with huge followings, further accentuating the “conservative turn” in Indonesian Islam. In response, their competitors have also turned to social media to expand their influence. Popular Muslim intellectuals associated with the Liberal Islam Network (Jaringan Islam Liberal, JIL), the Network of Young Muhammadiyah Intellectuals (Jaringan Intelektual Muda Muhammadiyah, JIMM), the Gusdurian Network (Jaringan GusDurian) and more recently, the Green Cadres of Muhammadiyah (Kader Hijau Muhammadiyah, KDM), Islam on the Move (Islam Bergerak, IB) have established a reputation as social media influencers. Several former JIL activists even co-founded a YouTube channel, Cokro TV, as a platform for spreading progressive Islamic ideas and countering what they perceive as the rise of conservative Islamic groups in the digital sphere. It is worth noting that these forces—conservative and progressive—are not monolithic. Individuals or groups may rally behind the same conservative or liberal cause, yet they also compete with one another when their ideological and material interests diverge.  

It is contended here that the rise of the influence industry as an instrument of social control for the oligarchic elite has reshaped the ideological competition among Indonesian Muslims. The emergence of paid cybertroopers engaged in online influence operations, also known as “computational propaganda”, is changing the power dynamics between conservative and progressive Islamic forces, as well as the sub-variants within each. In this study, I define influence operations as coordinated online campaigns to achieve a particular goal. Scholars have argued that these paid cybertroopers, locally known as “buzzers”, are undermining Indonesian democracy by co-opting and subverting the Internet’s promise as a liberation technology, and weakening civil society. They do this primarily by amplifying a particular narrative to manufacture consent, to drown out opposition voices, or simply to polarise society.

The ideological debates between conservative and liberal Islamic groups have intensified or become more polarised over the last 10 years, partly because they have become increasingly tied to political conflicts within the oligarchy, who have deployed cybertroopers to advance their interests. This article examines two case studies to demonstrate this trend. It will explain the rise of the influence industry and how it thrives on conflicts between rival alliances.

THE RISE OF THE INFLUENCE INDUSTRY: AN OVERVIEW

The influence industry in Indonesia emerged after 2012, when supporters of the then-Jakarta gubernatorial candidate Joko “Jokowi” Widodo formed a political volunteer group to consolidate their support for the highly popular politician. These political volunteers played a critical role in shaping Jokowi’s online persona as a man of the people and a “hands-on” politician who would not hesitate to conduct blusukan (impromptu visits) to speak with grassroots communities and address their grievances. Their emergence coincided with the rise of the political consultancy industry, which offered digital campaign services, leading to the creation of an influence industry involving digital marketing strategists, social media influencers, and cybertroopers. These paid digital political campaigners, known as “buzzers” in Indonesian Internet lingo, were heavily deployed to run digital campaigns during elections, particularly during the 2014 and the 2019 presidential elections and the 2017 Jakarta gubernatorial election. The period was marked by deepening ideological polarisation in society between those supporting Jokowi, mostly described as “liberal”, “pluralist” or “progressive” Muslims, and those supporting Prabowo, mostly described as “conservative”, “hard-line” or even “radical” Muslims. The top influencers from both camps largely have university education and live in urban areas such as Jakarta, Bandung, and Yogyakarta. They are mostly avid Twitter users, representing Gen Xers and millennials, in contrast to the relatively more politically apathetic Gen Z influencers on TikTok. Under Jokowi, these cybertroopers were later deployed outside of the election cycle, mainly to promote or defend the government’s policies. Studies have found that paid cybertroopers were deployed by the political-economic elite to deflect public anger over the passage of the 2020 Jobs Creation Law, which critics say was designed by the elite to roll back reforms to labour and environmental laws. They were also deployed to portray dozens of employees of the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) as radical Muslims; this was part of a scheme by the elite to co-opt the commission by purging top investigators who had sent many powerful politicians to jail.

It should be noted that the influence industry provides services to different elite factions and does not exclusively serve the pro-government elite. It is therefore not uncommon for paid influencers/buzzers to change their political position.

It should be noted that the influence industry provides services to different elite factions and does not exclusively serve the pro-government elite. It is therefore not uncommon for paid influencers/buzzers to change their political position. The influence operations against Jokowi and his ally, Basuki “Ahok” Tjahaja Purnama, for example, are believed to have been carried out by the oligarchic elite behind Prabowo, who was then a leading opposition figure and was forming alliances with major Islamist groups. Influence operations often exploit the longstanding ideological competition in Indonesian society. This is reflected, for example, in various sectarian campaigns branding Jokowi as “anti-Islam”, as well as in the use of the term “kadrun” (kadal gurun, desert lizards) by pro-Jokowi influencers to describe his detractors. Such aggressive campaigns became less intense after Prabowo and Jokowi joined forces to win the 2024 presidential election. It is within this context of intra-oligarchic conflict that the influence industry reshapes ideological conflicts among Indonesian Muslims.

COMPETING ISLAMIC IDEOLOGIES AND INFLUENCE OPERATIONS

Debating the 2020 Jobs Creation Law 

The 2020 Jobs Creation Law was arguably the most controversial legislation enacted under former President Joko Widodo. The policymakers have claimed that the omnibus law, which amends more than 70 laws, was created to streamline bureaucracy and make Indonesia more economically competitive. Critics, however, have argued that the law only serves the interests of businesses by removing critical legal guardrails that were put in place to protect labour rights and the environment. Thousands of people, mostly students and labour groups, took to the streets and social media to protest its passage, believing the law was designed only to serve the interests of the oligarchic elite. The majority of Islamic groups also opposed it. This included the leadership of Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) and Muhammadiyah, the nation’s largest Islamic groups. However, it is worth noting that the two organisations had members in Jokowi’s cabinet, indicating that factions within them supported the legislation. This was not the case among the Islamic groups that were more politically radical.  

The PKS, the political vehicle of the tarbiyah movement in Indonesia, used its social media accounts to challenge the passage of the law, which it said failed to protect workers. The Islamic party, however, framed its opposition to the law in more secular, less religious terms. On the other hand, HTI members, who participated in the online debate over the law, framed their opposition to the law with hashtags such as #KhilafahSejahterakanBuruh (The Caliphate Makes Workers Prosperous) and #PekerjaSejahteraDalamKhilafah (Workers are Prosperous Under the Caliphate) to promote its ideology. The group used problematic provisions within the law to make the case that “Islam was against capitalism”, one of the hashtags used in their campaign (see Figure 1). The Muslim Cyber Army (MCA), a fluid online Islamist movement, amplified oppositional voices from non-governmental organisations critical of the law, such as the Indonesian Legal Aid Institutes Foundation (Yayasan Lembaga Hukum Indonesia, YLBHI) and the Indonesian Forum for the Environment (Wahana Lingkungan Hidup Indonesia, Walhi). MCA is believed to have been paid by the oppositional elite to undermine the Jokowi government, and some Islamist buzzers have criticised them for exactly that.

Figure 1: A tweet promoting the caliphate ideology in its challenge to the 2020 Jobs Creation Law

Progressive Islamic groups such as Islam Bergerak, the Gusdurian Network and the Green Cadre of Muhammadiyah (KDM) strongly opposed the law on the grounds that it legalises social and economic inequality and environmental destruction. These groups believe that the law contradicts the basic tenets of Islam, which enshrine equality and environmental protection. They were among the loudest critics of the law from the progressive forces within Indonesian Islam and were actively involved in the online and street mobilisation against it. 

The Muslim influencers supporting the law, meanwhile, were some who were linked to JIL and JIMM. Saidiman Ahmad, a former JIL activist who now works as a researcher for the Saiful Mujani Research and Consulting (SMRC), actively promoted the law on his Twitter account, @saidiman. As a self-proclaimed libertarian, Saidiman argued that the law was necessary for Indonesia to prosper. He argued that it was designed to relax various government regulations, making it easier for businesses to invest and grow. In a public discussion, he claimed that the law was a “form of resistance against the oligarchy”. In another tweet, he put the hashtag #DemokrasiHidupKhilafahQoit (Democracy Lives, Caliphate Dies), lending support to the narrative amplified by government officials and pro-government influencers that critics of the law were siding with the Islamists. Meanwhile, Muhammad Darraz, former executive director of the progressive and liberal-leaning Islamic think tank, Maarif Institute, amplified this narrative too, arguing that extremist groups had ridden the anti-omnibus law protests to advance their agenda. While such a narrative is not entirely incorrect, its amplification obfuscates the fact that the law was challenged by progressive groups as well.

Proponents of the law, such as Saidiman, were in the minority. Their position did not even represent the mainstream thinking among liberal and progressive Muslims, given that many other former JIL figures and progressive groups were against the legislation. Yet, their views were amplified by the influence operations funded by the oligarchic elite to promote the law. Their insinuation that radical groups were behind the protests against the law fits the narrative pushed by pro-Jobs Creation Law cybertroopers using such hashtags as #KadrunMakarTunggangiOBL (Kadrun Committed Treason by Riding the Omnibus Law Protest), #KAMIFPISampahNKRI (We are FPI we are the trash of NKRI), #MenangkanPancasila (Make Pancasila Win), #PancasilaYesDemoNo (Pancasila Yes Demonstration No), #RakyatBersatuNKRIMaju (People Unite NKRI Advances), #BasmiCovidDanKadrunKomunis (Eradicate Covid and Communist Kadrun) and  #BasmiVirusKadrunDanCovid (Eradicate Kadrun Virus and Coronavirus) (see Figure 2). These hashtags created an impression that anyone opposed to the law was or could be associated with conservative, if not radical, Islamists.

Figure 2: Pro-Jobs Creation Law hashtags used by suspected cybertroopers to discredit critics of the law

Islamic piety or radicalism? The ‘Taliban’ in KPK controversy 

Another example of how the influence industry shapes debates over Islamic matters centres on the controversial allegations that dozens of employees at the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) led by top investigator Novel Baswedan were too radical for the agency, a key legacy of reformasi. These employees lost their jobs in the commission after failing the highly controversial civic test (Tes Wawasan Kebangsaan, TWK); this was used by several public officials and influencers as proof that these employees were “Taliban” Muslims who were against Pancasila, the country’s ideology of tolerance and pluralism. The TWK, which civil society groups claimed was riddled with irregularities in its design, became the centre of debates over Indonesian identity, specifically whether the test could be used to determine whether one was “nationalist” or “Pancasilaist” enough to be employed as a civil servant.

Ideological conflicts among Indonesian Islamist groups have become increasingly intertwined with elite conflicts through online influence operations, resulting in the oversimplification of complex Islamic issues and the reduction of the plurality of opinions.

Studies show that the TWK ignited one of the major influence operations in Indonesia. A number of political buzzers claimed they were paid to amplify the narrative peddled by top influencers, then linked to liberal YouTube channel Cokro TV, such as Denny Siregar and Eko Kuntadhi, that radical Islamists had taken over the KPK. Most of these cybertroopers admitted that they did it for the money, while others said that they ended up believing that the fired KPK employees were in fact “radical” Muslims. The coordinated online campaigns against the KPK used hashtags such as #BravoKPKTanpaTaliban (Bravo KPK without the Talibans), #DukungKPKBersih-bersihTaliban (Support the KPK in purging the Talibans), and #BasmiTalibanKPK (Eliminate the Talibans at the KPK) (see Figure 3). Hashtags asserting the legitimacy of the TWK included #TWKSahKPKBersih (TWK is legitimate, KPK is clean).

Figure 3: Pro-TWK hashtags used to portray former KPK employees as radical Muslims and anti-Pancasila

It is critical to note that the influence operations capitalised on the deepening ideological divide among Indonesians following the 2014 Presidential Election which pitted Prabowo against Jokowi. Prabowo was then supported by most of the major conservative Islamist groups, who believed that Jokowi represented anti-Islamic forces and was mainly backed by “liberal” Muslims. While this divide was shaped by decades of ideological competition, its intensification during the 2014 and 2019 presidential elections was driven mainly by intensifying elite conflicts. This ideological tension extended beyond 2019. The propaganda against the ex-KPK employees was likely driven by an alliance of the political and business elite in an attempt to control the KPK, a powerful state institution that could be weaponised against political opponents, especially ahead of the 2024 election.

Most Indonesian Islamic organisations, conservative and progressive, supported the KPK employees, believing that they were victims of political propaganda. This includes the GusDurian network, whose member, Tata Khoiriyah, was among the employees fired from KPK. They defended them with hashtags such as #BeraniJujurPecat (Being Honest and Brave Gets You Fired) and #PemberantasDiberantas ([Graft] Eradicators Get Eradicated). Others promoted hashtags defending their religious beliefs, such as #Al-Qur’anDiAtasKonstitusi (The Qur’an Is above the Constitution) and #BelaAl-Qur’an (Defend the Qur’an). The TWK test had reportedly asked them to choose between the Qur’an and the Constitution to prove their loyalty to the nation.

Figure 4: Screenshot of a tweet posted by Alissa Wahid, a daughter of Abdurrahman “Gus Dur” Wahid, to defend Tata Khoiriyah, a public relations official at the KPK and a Gusdurian activist, who was then on the verge of losing her job after failing the TWK test.

The main supporters of this campaign were liberal and anti-Islamist Muslims linked to Cokro TV. Cokro TV is a media arm of the Indonesian Solidarity Party (PSI), then known as the party of “liberal” Muslims. It featured liberal Muslim hosts such as Muhammad Guntur Romli, Ade Armando, and Luthfi Assyaukanie, along with then-pro-Jokowi influencers such as Denny Siregar and Eko Kuntadhi. CokroTV was the leading social media channel spreading the allegations that the KPK was controlled by “Talibans”. The YouTube channel was then led by Nong Darol Mahmada, a prominent JIL member. Akhmad Sahal, another prominent JIL activist, was among the social media influencers amplifying the “Taliban in KPK” narrative when it was used to justify the passage of the 2002 KPK law, purportedly to tame the anticorruption agency. Sahal reposted a Facebook post by Denny Siregar that alleged that he believed there were radical investigators within the KPK. While Sahal neither confirmed nor denied the validity of such a claim, he did raise the concern that the KPK must be free from what he called “Islam cingkrang”, referring to the tradition of avoiding “isbaal” (the lowering of garments below the ankles), which Salafist Muslims believe is un-Islamic. His tweet appears to suggest that the religiosity of some KPK employees was an indicator of their radicalism. 

Despite protests from civil society groups, including Islamic groups, the KPK employees lost their jobs. The online support for them did not lead to offline mobilisation to prevent their firing. The coordinated anti-Islamist campaign apparently normalised their removal from the KPK.

CONCLUSION

The case studies show that the longstanding conflict between “radical” and “progressive” Muslims was exploited by competing factions within the oligarchic elite to serve their respective interests. What the political elite behind the Jokowi government did was to mobilise cybertroopers to portray all government critics as “radical Islamists”, as shown during online debates over the Jobs Creation Law in 2020 and the TWK controversy in 2021. This anti-radical Islam campaign was created mainly in response to the elite-driven sectarian campaigns describing Jokowi as being merely a “nominal” Muslim, or even “anti-Islam” throughout his presidency. It is also critical to note that rival oligarchic forces within the opposition at the time, such as those linked to the Democratic Party, amplified critical voices against the Jobs Creation Law and the TWK test to undermine the Jokowi government.

Ideological conflicts among Indonesian Islamist groups have become increasingly intertwined with elite conflicts through online influence operations, resulting in the oversimplification of complex Islamic issues and the reduction of the plurality of opinions. This reveals another way in which influence operations undermine Indonesian democracy — by dividing progressive Islamic forces at a time when ideological competition intensifies in cyberspace. This trend is likely to continue, given the prevailing ideological fragmentation among Indonesian Muslims.

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This is an adapted version of ISEAS Perspective 2026/56 published on 7 August 2026. The paper and its references can be accessed at this link.