Survival against the odds

Studies on elites, family, and dynasty in Indonesia after reformasi

The topic of political dynasty falls within the study of elites (Frank, 2001: 40) and is often equated with studies of oligarchy. The notions of ‘elite’, ‘dynasty’, and ‘oligarchy’, as well as ‘political elite’, ‘political dynasty’, and ‘political oligarchy’, remain obscure, however, and a better understanding of each of these terms is needed. Frank defined political elites and oligarchy as a ‘family-based oligarchic faction that held both the state executive office and national posts’ (Frank, 2001: 54), and a ‘shifting group of family-based factions whose power derives from a mixture of public and private resources, including numerous subordinates bound to the family by patron-client relations’ (Frank, 2001: 53). From Frank’s definition, there are at least two main elements in the notion of dynasty and oligarchy, namely the family as a unit of analysis, and the type of resources that the family possess (either public or private).

The use of ‘family’ as a unit of analysis is little seen in existing Western scholarship in history and the social sciences, including in the study of Indonesia. As Tony Day observed, the two disciplines have focused their analysis on ‘institutions’ and ‘structures’ (Day, 1996: 384). As a unit of analysis, ‘family’ has been overlooked. This article and this special issue brings the political family back in, in order to enhance understandings of the political dynasty and oligarchy in Indonesia.

There is wide agreement within studies of Indonesian politics that electoral democracy and decentralization facilitates the entrenchment of old elites (relates to the Suharto regime) on the one hand, and the re-emergence of new elites (no connection to the previous regime) on the other. Studies of elites and their families in Indonesia in this period have engaged a diverse range of approaches which are not mutually exclusive, including political economy, institutionalist, and sociological approaches.

The first approach positions the study of elites within a framework of historical and political economy. Robison and Hadiz (2004) is an example of this approach, suggesting that the present day elites have simply emerged from the old Suharto era elites. They are one and the same. These elites managed to reorganize their power by adapting quickly to the electoral democratic political framework. This happens, they suggest, due to the fact that the reform has a strong technocratic element which the old political actors find easily to adapt to. This capacity among the elites to adapt can also be found in political parties. For example, Tomsa’s study of Golkar (2004), the ruling party during the Suharto era, reveals its strong political resilience (Tomsa, 2009: 176).

The second approach to the study of elites and their families is the institutionalist approach, which relates the elites to the electoral democractic system in place in Indonesia since mid-1998. These studies do not necessarily discuss elites and their families directly, but rather focus on systems such as direct local elections and the multiparty system, and the ways these have aided the survival of elites and their families. Local elites and their families make use of patronage and clientelism in order to hold on to power (Aspinall, 2013a, 2013b). Local elections are their instrument to maintain this power. In general, these studies (Buehler, 2007; Buehler and Tan, 2007) suggest that the adaptation of an institutional framework of democracy, that is, electoral democracy, decentralization, and the introduction of direct local elections, contributes to the emergence of elites (and their families) both at the national and local levels. In studies following the direct local elections (Pilkada) at the provincial and district levels in Indonesia, scholars have found that across the archipelago local elites and families make use of political parties and direct local elections to exert their power. Direct local elections strengthen elite politics (Buehler and Tan, 2007: 65; Hadiz, 2004), because the system facilitates the role of the individual, and his/her family networks in mobilizing political support.

The third approach includes studies of elites that connect to specific socio-political and local contexts. For example, Hidayat (2006, 2007) explores the political roles of a noble family in the province of Banten and concludes that the ability of the family to assume power cannot be separated from the roles of ‘jawara’, locally based semi-thug social groups known widely in Banten society. A connection between elites and their families and local thugs has also been found in Aceh, where after the Helsinki Agreement in 2005 ex-GAM combatants played this role and often became politicians and businesspeople themselves (Aspinall and Van Klinken, 2011).

The pribumi capitalists and their political strategies

The Djunaid family is a local pribumi business family, which has faced decline at various times and yet has managed to survive and even flourish. This study is part of a broader examination of economic development and processes of capital accumulation in Indonesia and is situated on a historical trajectory from colonial times through to post-independence Indonesia. In the colonial period, pribumi business occupied only marginal roles in the country’s economy compared to the Dutch, who controlled huge resources in the industrial, agricultural, and plantation sectors. During the colonial period Chinese Indonesian businesses took on the role of middlemen between the Dutch and the pribumi, which was part of the colonial strategy to marginalize this large majority. Pribumi business controlled small-scale industry such as textiles, including batik production, weaving, and the cigarette industry (Castle, 1967; Robison, 1986: 3).

After independence, the economic architects in the post-colonial era supported nationalist and socialist ideologies in which the state played a major role in the economy (Higgins, 1957). In step with this was a move to provide protection to marginal pribumi entrepreneurs in the economy throughout the Sukarno era (Lindblad, 2008; Robison, 1986; Sutter, 1959). The dominant role of the state in the economy continued and reached its peak during the developmental era under the three decades of the Suharto regime. Pribumi businesses still found protection, but this was reserved only for those who were close to President Suharto’s family and his associates, or with business links to the military (Yoshihara, 1988). Those small-scale pribumi entrepreneurs who gained protection from the regime were part of Suharto’s corporatist strategy to include entrepreneurs who were members of key interest groups such as chambers of commerce, associations of constructors, and so on. Of course, it was also the case that they were all aligned with of the ruling party (Golkar) and its onderbouw (substructure) organizations (Abdullah, 1994; MacIntyre, 1991).

Seeking protection from the state has been a constant within the business operations of pribumi capitalists, with few exceptions. Because of this dependence, Robison (1986) labelled them ‘bureaucratic capitalist/s’, which marked their parasitic character within the economy in general. Yoshihara labelled this mode of economic accumulation not as genuine capitalism, but rather as an ersatz capitalism (Yoshihara, 1988). This feature eventually contributed to the macro feature of the Indonesian economy as that of ‘crony capitalism’ (Kang, 2002; Krueger, 1992) and is not a model that is typically Indonesian. In his study of the Philippines, Hutchcroft describes similar practices of cronyism within the Marcos family as an example, which he named ‘booty capitalism’ and described as, ‘the plunder of state resources by social forces with a firm economic base outside the state’ (Hutchcroft, 1998: 21). Malaysia promoted and protected its pribumi entrepreneurs through New Economic Policy (NEP) in the 1970s (Alavi, 1996).

Pribumi capitalists’ dependency on the state also operates at the provincial level. In Indonesia during the Sukarno era, they played politics through political parties. Masjumi was a party with particular links to the interests of small-scale pribumi entrepreneurs and traders. The Indonesian Socialist Party (PSI) had links to large urban-based capitalists. Since then, politics has remained greatly significant for the pribumi capitalist class. As mentioned, during the Suharto era, the regime preferred to support Chinese Indonesian business in order to boost national economic development. Small-scale pribumi enterprises were not a priority, except for the purposes of gaining political legitimacy. Suharto’s fall from power in May 1998 ushered in a new era of electoral politics and multi-party politics with greater autonomy for the local levels of government. In this new political system, small-scale pribumi entrepreneurs found new channels to defend and grow their businesses. The political and business survival of the Djunaid family described in this article is situated on this historical and economic trajectory and within the broader political context, highlighting the constancy of the local pribumi capitalist family’s dependence on the state.

Establishing a political family: The era of economic protection (1950s–1970s)

Pekalongan covers a relatively small area on the northern coast of Central Java; it takes less than 20 minutes to travel by motorcycle from the northern border of the city to the southern edge, and 10 minutes from the eastern border to the west. For centuries, Pekalongan has been known as a trade hub and is home to various kinds of businesses. The largest economic sector is manufacturing and trading, particularly in the textile sector (BPS Kota Pekalongan, 2010). Most importantly, Pekalongan is home to a large number of pribumi entrepreneurs in textile production (including batik). Economic historians have explored the importance of Pekalongan as a breeding ground for pribumi entrepreneurship, forming part of the establishment of Indonesian ‘national economy’ (Dick, 2002; Lindblad, 2008; Papanek, 2006; Shiraishi, 1997; Dick, et al., 2002).

The Djunaid family earned its living from the batik economy over several generations, peaking during the era of protection in the 1950s. Ahmad Djunaid (1920 –1982) was the patriarch and founder of the family dynasty. He joined the Republicans as a freedom fighter during the fight for independence against the Dutch in the 1940s. After independence, former freedom fighters made good use of their connections to the new political elite in Jakarta. Djunaid knew the first Indonesian vice president, Mohammad Hatta, a Dutch-trained economist who was in favour of supporting pribumi businesses to develop the economy of the nascent republic, under the pretext of establishing a ‘national economy’. In 1951 the new republic implemented an economic program called ‘Benteng’ or Fortress policy, a national affirmative programme to protect small businesses in infant industries by way of cooperative societies, particularly pribumi business. The ‘Benteng’ policy was designed to boost the capacity of indigenous entrepreneurs so they could better compete with Chinese Indonesian business (Glassburner, 1962).

At that time, there were several towns in Java known as centres of pribumi entrepreneurship, including towns along the northern coast of Java (Cirebon, Pekalongan, Kudus, Lasem, and Madura), as well as in south and central Java (Majalaya, Yogyakarta, and Solo). The state’s protection of the batik industry began in the years immediately following Indonesian independence, reaching its peak during the 1960s. In the 1950s, the ‘Benteng’ programme supported small-scale entrepreneurs in sectors known for their high absorption of human labour, such as textiles. For this sector, and particularly for the production of batik, this took the form of protection of the allocation of quotas of imported raw materials at prices below the market value.

This era of affirmative action and preferential allocations resulted in substantial wealth for elite batik entrepreneurs, especially those in Pekalongan (GKBI 1969). The heyday of the batik industry in the 1960s is still remembered by this older generation of businesspeople who never seem to tire of telling stories about the glorious pasts enjoyed by their families. These stories usually include descriptions of houses with pillars and large verandas and even Roman statues in the front gardens.

In Pekalongan, batik production was the main small-scale indigenous industry to become the focus of the ‘Benteng’ programme. The Pekalongan Batik Cooperative (PPIP), ² established in the 1920s before the war of independence, was reactivated during the ‘Benteng’ programme. Ahmad Djunaid played a central role in managing and connecting Jakarta and Pekalongan. His old connections to former independence fighters now in positions within the government in Jakarta enabled him to take on a leading role in the cooperative later established at the national level, the Gabungan Koperasi Batik Indonesia, GKBI.

The family of Ahmad Djunaid became rich and famous during this period due to his central position in the cooperatives at both GKBI and PPIP. His position allowed him access to benefits as a leader of cooperatives, including high wages, and business opportunities in the batik business. Zaki Arslan (1945–2012), Ahmad Djunaid’s son, proudly showed me a picture of his family in one of the Middle Eastern countries they visited after their pilgrimage to Mecca in the 1970s. Because of that frequent family trip to Mecca, Pekalongan people labelled the family ‘Orang kayanya Pekalongan’, or the ‘haves of Pekalongan’.

The following story was told to me by Zaki Arslan Djunaid, head of the second generation of this dynastic family,

I was a teenager in the 1950s. I had everything that a teenager could wish for in his life. As director of GKBI (Union of Batik Cooperatives), my father used to live in Jakarta, and he once sent me the trendiest imported motorcycle from Jakarta. I used to race on it with a group of friends on the main streets of Pekalongan. No one could stop us, not even the police. We used to smoke Phillip Morris cigarettes, which were very expensive as they were imported. My family had a ranch on the outskirts of Pekalongan where we kept horses. During those years my parents went on pilgrimage to Mecca several times. I can’t even remember how many times. Life was great during those days; I really had a wonderful time when I was young. (Interview with author, 20 May 2008)

A family readjusting: The end of protection during economic liberalization and the figure of Zaki Arslan Djunaid (1945–2012)

When Suharto assumed power in the mid-1960s, the new regime abolished special protection for small- and medium-scale enterprises. It emphasized a growth-oriented economic policy, which supported large, capital-intensive enterprises that could compete at the international level. The import of raw materials and modern machinery for textile production was eased and the establishment of large-scale textile factories was encouraged. Small-scale entrepreneurs in the batik sector were unable to compete with the large-scale capital textile producers, who manufactured cloth printed with batik motifs at much lower costs and in much larger quantities. In one round of production, usually over a two-week period, a large-scale enterprise could produce about 400 rolls, or 1000 metres, of stamped batik cloth. The output calculated for just one day was thus hundreds of times the output of a traditional enterprise. Consequently, in this period when the regime subsidized high-scale textile manufacturers around 80 percent of small-scale batik producers went bankrupt.

This decline affected the Djunaid family who were forced to close their batik business. Achmad Djunaid took a job managing a cotton manufacturing plant in Batang, Central Java. The family ventured into the electronic retail business in the late 1980s; however, it also failed. Zaki explained that this venture into the electronics business saw them competing directly with ethnic Chinese-owned shops with more experience in this business than his family. In 2008, the family still had one batik shop on Dr Cipto Street. However, by 2010 it was also gone.

Faced with these difficulties the family attempted another strategy. On 3 March 1974, as the early signs of the decline in the batik industry became apparent, leading figures within the PPIP who had also faced bankruptcy, including Achmad Djunadi, Mirza Djahri, Trisno Akwan, and Mukmin Bakri, as well as the two Chinese-Indonesian members Ang Tiang Soen and Thio Tek Djhiang, established the Jasa ³ savings and loans cooperative ( MASA, 2007). It aimed to provide capital for small-scale pribumi batik entrepreneurs (and former entrepreneurs) in Pekalongan who were having difficulties accessing credit after state protection came to an end.

Jasa claimed it was the first multicultural cooperative in Indonesia. The ethnic Chinese members provided the initial capital for Jasa, while the pribumi members led its daily operations. Jasa operated like a commercial bank: it accumulated deposits, channelled them as credit, and invested them in various business sectors. In the beginning, Jasa operated only in the Pekalongan area, with its format attracting many clients both inside and outside the batik business community.

The Jasa Saving and Loan Cooperative became the new Djunaid family business. The family became dominant in the cooperative mostly because of the figure of Achmad Djunaid. With its network in Jakarta, other members in Jasa believed that things could be managed well so long as a Djunaid family member held a formal position in the cooperative. At a time when the government was withdrawing its support of the indigenous batik industry, the cooperative positioned itself once again as a respected family in Pekalongan who cared about the life of small business in the city. It became the antithesis of a government, which was more concerned with how to push growth and less with the livelihoods of small- and medium-scale business.

In the late 1990s, Jasa continued to grow, reaching its peak following the economic crisis. While many commercial banks collapsed, clients searched Jasa out because they trusted its owners. Clients believed that the local owners would never run away like other bankers had done after their banks collapsed. People trusted that the Djunaid family would be responsible. During this time Zaki was preparing his second son Andi Arslan Djunaid to take over his leadership in the cooperative. When Zaki passed away in 2012, Andi succeeded his father as Jasa’s director.

The decade from the late 1990s onwards was a period of incredible growth and expansion for the small local cooperative. In 2008 Jasa’s assets reached more than IDR 2 trillion (US$200 million). In 2010, it had 58 branches in Java and Sumatra, making it the largest cooperative of its kind in Indonesia. It installed automatic teller machines (ATMs) in its branches in Java, Bali, and Sumatra. It has also diversified its business interests into various sectors, including a printing press, a syariah cooperative, a pension fund, MASA magazine, a real estate business, a syariah-based pawnshop, and a health insurance company.

Meanwhile, as it enjoyed such growth, it was also clear that the expansive activities of Jasa were in breach of the Law on Cooperatives No. 25 of 1992 (Indonesian State Secretariat, 1992). Under the law a cooperative was forbidden to mobilize public funds and to operate as a bank. At this time, Indonesia’s Reserve Bank, Bank Indonesia, was very hesitant to allow microfinance institutions like Jasa to operate as banks, and attempted to regulate the financial sector by setting strict standards for the establishment of microfinance institutions. This was done to guarantee the security of public funds. As a result, there were no specific regulations for microfinance institutions, formally called non-bank microfinance institutions. ⁴ This meant that microfinance institutions like Jasa needed to comply with the same regulations as a regular bank, which includes seeking Bank Indonesia’s approval of its organisational structure and of its staff. ⁵

Jasa resisted any attempt by the government to regulate its banking activities, although not openly. It claimed to be a multicultural cooperative society based on the traditional Indonesian principle of gotong royong (mutual aid) and accused the central government in Jakarta, especially the Ministry of Finance, of adopting a pro-capitalist ideology instead of supporting local initiatives from below. Lobbying efforts to have Jasa continue to operate as a commercial bank began during the leadership of Zaki Arslan Djunaid in the 1990s. It was largely due to Achmad Djunaid’s former networks within the Ministry of Cooperatives that Jasa was able to continue to operate as a commercial bank, in spite of its breaches of Law No. 25 on Cooperatives.

In 2001 the Ministry of Cooperatives submitted its new bill on Cooperatives No 17 (Indonesian State Secretariat 2012). The submission was part of a process of regulating the collection of public funds through non-banking institutions, including cooperatives. The bill aimed to ensure accountability of public funding. Within the framework of the former Cooperative Bill, a minimum of only 20 people was required to establish a cooperative society and to form a microfinance unit. Any non-member who sought to access the cooperative’s services would first register a membership request. For this reason, the majority of PPIP’s original clients (later Jasa), were ‘pending’ members (calon anggota). Jasa Director Andi Arslan Djunaid explained that with the expansion in its services in the 2000s, such as through the popular Safari Saving (Tabungan Safari), registering all its clients as members of the cooperative would simply be impractical.

The new proposed bill on cooperatives introduced in 2012 outlawed this practice, albeit for only a short time. A group of cooperative practitioners immediately opposed the 2012 bill in the constitutional court. In May 2014, their case was successful and the court agreed to annul the bill. The court agreed that the bill contravened the very basic principle of the Indonesian economy as stated in article 33 (1) of the Indonesian Constitution, namely the principle of economic activity to improve the lives of the people. This competitive spirit, as suggested in the new bill, would destroy the feature of Indonesian nationalism known as gotong royong, the founding principle for the cooperative (Susilo, 2014).

Economic actors, political agents

In the political world of Pekalongan, the Djunaid family was a staunch supporter of the Islamic parties. Members of cooperative networks traditionally belonged to the Masjumi Party, a Muslim modernist party established in the 1940s. Masjumi was a key supporter of the ‘Benteng’ Programme and of protectionist economic policies for small and medium business, whose owners made up the majority of its membership. When Suharto forced the amalgamation of political parties in the early 1970s, the Djunaid family remained loyal to the Islamic party, the United Development Party (PPP).

During the Suharto period, Ahmad’s son, Zaki Arslan, initially kept a low profile in politics, which was dominated by the Golkar party. However, as a social and political figure in Pekalongan, many people and groups would come to him for advice on political affairs in Pekalongan. As a consequence, he could not remain totally independent and found himself incorporated into the state system, at least indirectly. In 1982, Zaki was part of a team put together to ensure Golkar won the 1987 election in Pekalongan, which it did for the first time since Suharto came to power. In a conversation in 2008, Zaki claimed, ‘Golkar would never have succeeded without my contribution. I was behind all of the set up [for Golkar to win]’. However, his personal motivation was as much economic as political. Zaki wanted to assist his relative, Kamaludin Bahir, to gain access to construction projects through the Golkar network. After Golkar’s local victory Zaki’s relatives went on to establish the first housing complex in Pekalongan and to become successful entrepreneurs. This increased the symbolic capital of the family locally and sustained the image of the Djunaid family as ‘the haves of Pekalongan’.

When Indonesian political life shifted from authoritarian to electoral democracy in 1998, Zaki retired from his official political and business roles and prepared to hand over the directorship of Jasa to his second son, Andi Arslan Djunaid. Nonetheless, Zaki remained an influential figure in politics in Pekalongan. Before launching their local party branches, three of the new Islamic political parties in Pekalongan called on him to ask for his support. ‘He has a long experience in politics, and we respect him’, explained the head of one Islamic party. There were other reasons also. Zaki is well-known for donating to Islamic-related political activities and he does not disappoint those who pay homage to him.

An attempt to replenish: The third generation (1974–)

Following on from the introduction of decentralization in 2001, the bill on Local Government 32 of 2004 in Indonesia allowed for district heads and mayors to be directly elected. The direct local election has brought a new dimension to local politics, namely the emergence of local political actors, which is different from the practice during the Suharto era when local leaders at district/city level were appointed by Jakarta. Decentralization has facilitated the emergence of local political actors including the Djunaid family, which again sought to capitalize on this new political opportunity.

The late Zaki Arslan Djunaid is on the record as proclaiming that his family had no interest in local politics. Yet, in the 2010 mayoral election, Zaki promoted his eldest son Alf Arslan Djunaid (known as Alex) born in 1970, to be a vice mayor of Pekalongan, on a ticket with the incumbent Dr Basyir Ahmad.

Sources close to the family explained that the reason for Zaki’s push into local politics was because he could see financial difficulties for Jasa in the future, compounded by the government’s looming decision on the 2012 amended bill on cooperatives. Moreover, despite the cooperative’s growing number of branches since 2008, it was also dealing with a problem of internal mismanagement.

Alex’s candidacy for vice-mayor in the 2010 election was seen as a way for the family to find alternative sources of economic capital. It was also planned as an apprenticeship to prepare Alex for the position of mayor in the 2015 elections. The wealth and fame of the family, as well as Zaki’s social and cultural activities – building a mosque and an Islamic boarding school (pesantren) – contributed to the victory of the Basyir-Alex Djunaid ticket in 2010.

In an interview with Alf Arslan Djunaid, he confirmed that his candidacy was related to the goal of sustaining the family legacy. ‘My father dislikes being number two. Being a vice mayor is being number two. He has a plan for me to be number one [to be a mayor]. This is just a step for that’ (interview with author, March 2014). For Mayor Dr Basyir Ahmad, his request to Zaki Arslan for Alex as running mate was for pragmatic reasons: to have increased resources for his campaign. In the end, for the 2010 campaign, Basyir spent a total of Rp 6 billion ($US600,000) and Zaki spent Rp 4 billion ($US400,000). Together they shared the cost of the candidacy and leveraged the good reputation of the Djunaid family as a respected family in Pekalongan. Their victory can hardly be separated from the social status of Zaki Arslan Djunaid.

Despite Zaki’s ambition to have his son elevated to the highest political position in Pekalongan, it was also clear that he had not prepared him to be an effective local politician or local leader. Alex’s organizational background was limited. His closest associates speak of his passion for karaoke and that as an undergraduate his studies came second to socializing. Growing up, Alex was, unlike his father, never exposed to the workings of the cooperative. Moreover, his experience with public policy was close to nothing: ‘I was brought up as an entrepreneur. None of my family has become public officers, or politicians, or administrators. This is a new world for me’, he admitted. Nor did sources close to the family see in Alex any interest in politics or a career therein.

He is too self-centric and naïve for politics. Politics forces you to be socially smart. When you meet people and you don’t like him or her, you cannot simply blurt out your feelings. You have to be nice to all kinds of people, even though you may hate them. Alex is not that kind of person. He is too honest in public, which basically shows his weakness. We tried to advise him but he never listens. (Confidential interview with author, August 2013)

Against the odds: The 2015 Pilkada and the survival of the Djunaid dynasty

In the end, public speculation about Alex’s political weaknesses and the unlikelihood of his running in the 2015 Pilkada were proved very wrong. Alex contested the elections with Saelany, a close associate of the Djunaid family, as his running mate. Alex’s mother proposed Saelany, and played a significant part in planning and resourcing his campaign. Three candidates contested the Pilkada: Alf Arslan (Alex) Djunaid with his running mate Saelany (supported by PDI P and PKB), Hakam Naja with Nur Hasanah (PAN and Gerindra), and Dwi Heri Wibawa with Sutalip Restu Widodo (Golkar Party) who had the support of the incumbent. Alex and Saelany won the election with 46.70% votes ahead of the Golkar candidate with 37.93%, and Hakam Naja on 15.36%.

For those who knew how politically weak Alex was during his time as a vice mayor under Basyir Ahmad and his financial difficulties following the death of his father, his victory was a considerable surprise. His unlikely victory can be explained by at least three factors. The first relates to highly unpopular policies introduced by the former mayor during the last three years of his tenure. This included a merger of more than half of the wards (kelurahan) into a single ward based in Pekalongan, citing reasons of bureaucratic efficiency. Under Basyir, 47 kelurahan become just 27. The creation of the new keluruhan caused considerable controversy among residents of Pekalongan with protests on the streets and on social media. Basic administrative processes such as changing personal documentation and obtaining land certificates were made more difficult. In many cases citizens found themselves travelling further to attend a government office in one of the newly merged keluruhan. Another vastly unpopular policy was Basyir’s decision to change the design of the Pekalongan coat of arms by way of a public competition. Many protested that this would change the identity of Pekalongan, and what is more that it was not a necessary shift. In the end, the re-design is said to have cost more than Rp 4 billion. Moreover, public sentiment was not won over by the new logo, which many believed was not as attractive as the old one ( Suara Merdeka, 2015).

The second factor relates to a significant shift in the Djunaid family’s outlook on Alex’s candidature. In what was perhaps the most decisive factor responsible for his victory, the Jasa cooperative, the main business enterprises of the family, agreed to finance Alex’s candidacy. Further, with Basyir’s policies increasingly unpopular, key groups in civil society, including the younger generation of activists and former Basyir campaign staffers, put their support behind Alex’s candidacy. A campaign team was set up to assist him and to mobilize voters at the grass roots. The team worked hard polishing his public image, which as mentioned earlier was until then that of a spoilt son with limited leadership and managerial skills.

The third factor explaining Alex’s victory is the failure of potentially his strongest competitor, Mrs Basyir, to mount a campaign. As mentioned, Basyir was intent on supporting his wife, chair of Pekalongan legislative (2015–2020), to succeed him as mayor and the couple had been readying their plan for some time. However, her candidacy was forced to be cancelled due to a significant political blunder by Basyir himself.

In an effort to curb the rise of political dynasties in local politics, the Regional Elections Law No. 8/2015 banned relatives of incumbent regional heads from running in local elections. In July 2015 the article was overturned by the Constitutional Court through decree 33/PUU-XIII/2015, ruling that this decision limited the constitutional rights of citizens to run for election. However, in the months before the Constitutional Court overturned the law, Basyir made a calculated and strategic decision. The Election Commission’s regulation exempted family members of incumbents from the ban if the incumbent resigned from his or her post at least six months before the election. So it was that, in a move to secure his wife’s candidacy for mayor of Pekalongan, Basyir sent his resignation letter to Central Java Governor effective 6 July ( Tempo, 2015). However, reading his intention to circumvent the then abiding regulation, the governor agreed to accept Basyir’s resignation on the condition that none of his relatives would contest the election. As such, the agreement was legally binding. Just days later the Constitutional Court handed down its decision in favour of the plaintiffs. Basyir had made a serious miscalculation. He did not expect the governor to give such a binding requirement for his decision. This meant the strongest candidate was no longer in the picture.

Conclusion

With his political and financial issues settled, and strong support from civil society, Alex secured the elements he needed to carry off what had just months earlier seemed like the unlikeliest of victories. This article has demonstrated how, in order to remain powerful, local dynastic families must shift and adapt their strategies. Over three generations the Djunaid family have experienced highs and lows in response to external factors within the political system, the capabilities of their political competitors, and their own internal strengths and weaknesses.

The story of the Djunaid family demonstrates that institutional factors have a mixed impact on the fate of the local dynasty. This is especially the case for an established dynastic family with its powerbase in a specific locality. These families have lived under various political and economic regimes, testing their capacity to survive and adapt, or to fade away.

The importance of succession and grooming within the political family is also highlighted by this case. Arguably, ‘education’ in the ways of the family organization and political and networking skills was not adequately transferred to members of this third generation, thereby potentially weakening the dynasty. Nonetheless, the social position of the Djunaid family remained a vitally important factor in Alex’s popularity and eventual electoral success.

Moreover, what is borne out here is the fact that internal factors alone do not account for the emergence or decline of a dynasty. Local political dynamics, such as the policies of the incumbent, the popularity of the other candidates, and financial support from family, also contribute. It is the ability of the family to adapt to these shifts in political regimes and their policies which in the end determines their capacity to survive.