The 35th Congress of Nahdlatul Ulama (NU), Indonesia's largest Muslim organization, concluded with a new leadership team and a lingering question: how close is the group to the corridors of power?
KH Abdul Hakim Mahfudz, known as Gus Kikin, was appointed chairman of the executive council (PBNU) for the 2026–2031 term. KH Miftachul Akhyar was re-elected as Rais Aam, the supreme leader. Gus Kikin's selection came through the Ahlul Halli wal Aqdi (AHWA) mechanism, a council of senior clerics, after he secured the most votes in an earlier screening phase—472 against his closest rival's 262.
The congress in Jombang, East Java, appeared orderly. But in the corridors, whispers of a “Palace Ticket” emerged—allegations that the Gus Kikin–Miftachul Akhyar pairing was the government's preferred outcome. Both NU figures and officials have denied this, and no evidence has surfaced. Yet the rumor itself reveals a deeper anxiety: is Indonesia's most influential civil society organization edging too close to the state?
NU is not just another mass organization. It operates a vast network of Islamic boarding schools (pesantren), scholars (kiai), and affiliated youth and women's wings. Its moral authority, built over a century, gives it a unique position in Indonesian society. How NU navigates its relationship with the state is therefore central to the health of Indonesian democracy.
A functioning democracy requires institutions that can stand apart from the government—to aggregate interests, build solidarity, and check power. This does not mean reflexive opposition. Civil society groups often cooperate with the state on public issues. The danger arises when cooperation turns into dependence, and proximity dulls the capacity for dissent.
The Jombang Congress must be seen through this lens. Of the 552 voting participants, 401 approved the shift to the AHWA mechanism for selecting the chairman, while 150 preferred direct voting. The decision was democratic, so calling it a hijacking misses the point. But it concentrates more authority in a small clerical elite. The greater the power vested in such a group, the greater the need for accountability.
History offers a telling precedent. During the 29th NU Congress in Cipasung in 1994, Gus Dur—KH Abdurrahman Wahid—fought for re-election as chairman against a government-backed challenger. The Suharto regime deployed its full machinery to unseat him, yet Gus Dur won, albeit narrowly. He refused to subordinate NU to the regime, choosing instead to maintain a critical distance.
That independence did not mean personal hostility. In early 1999, while still PBNU chairman, Gus Dur visited Suharto at his Cendana residence to discuss the Ambon sectarian conflict, urging the former president to help de-escalate tensions. Even after becoming president, Gus Dur visited Suharto again in March 2000, framing it as a young man visiting an elder. He drew a clear line between criticizing power and harboring personal animosity.
This legacy is vital for Gus Kikin. He does not need to prove his autonomy by opposing every government policy. He must demonstrate that proximity to the state does not erode NU's willingness to offer constructive critique. The test will come on concrete issues: agrarian conflicts, natural resource management, economic policy, environmental protection, education, poverty, and civil liberties.
Gus Kikin's background in the energy business, including upstream oil and gas, adds another layer. Business experience is not proof of a conflict of interest, but leading a massive religious organization while having ties to strategic economic sectors demands heightened transparency. When NU's social capital intersects with political access and economic interests, the boundaries must be guarded meticulously.
Indonesia's democracy depends on civil society organizations that can say “no” to power without losing the capacity for dialogue. NU's new leadership faces a heavy mandate. The question is not whether it will criticize often, but whether it retains the ability to do so when necessary.
