Introduction

A surprising, yet important, figure exists in the development of democracy in Indonesia, as it emerges from its authoritarian past. This figure is the botoh, who plays a significant role in democratic transition. Its popularity is inseparable from its expertise in mobilizing the masses in local and national political contestations through a system of cultural support networks. The term botoh comes from the Javanese language and carries the meaning of a “gambler” (Pusat Bahasa Departemen Pendidikan Nasional, 2002). In earlier times, the term referred to gamblers in cockfighting rings. Over time, botoh has migrated from these traditional gambling arenas into the overtly political arena of village head elections. It began soon after the issuance of new regulations concerning the direct election of village chiefs (Law No. 5 of 1974).

The figure of a gambler or a bettor has long been recognized in human civilization, and the existence of the botoh is rooted in the gambling culture of Javanese tradition. A successful botoh acquires economic affluence and becomes an influential figure that may shape public opinion in a particular region. Thus, the botoh has unsurprisingly become a new political figure who plays an important role in local political dynamics. To adopt Keller’s terminology (1984, p. 19), the botoh is part of the strategic elite whose voice must be reckoned with because of his strong social influence. This role, as a public relations representative of a candidate for political office or his/her team, has been useful in traditional political communication (Jackson & Lucian, 1978, p. 257). Sartono Kartodirdjo, in his book Pesta Demokrasi di Pedesaan (Studi Kasus Pemilihan Kepala Desa di Jawa Tengah dan DIY), also mentioned the role a botoh plays in mobilizing voters during village elections (Kartodirdjo, 1992, p. 281).

The botoh was previously reckoned as a part of the masses, but when potential political opportunities opened up, a trajectory of upward mobility began that eventually placed it in the sub-elite position. Meanwhile, in Tuban Regency, located on the north coast of East Java, the botoh who previously occupied the sub-elite position under existing political circumstances moved into the elite position. In a broad sense, the botoh in Tuban began its vertical mobility, as it entered pragmatic and mass-oriented organizations. Occupying a strategic social position between local authorities and society, the botoh often acts as a mass-transferring instrument for ruling elites. However, with the institution of direct Regional Head Elections (known by the acronym Pilkada), a significant development of botoh roles and functions has occurred. As the immediate subordinate of the ruling elites, it has accrued strong bargaining positions.

Botoh roles in local politics have continued to the present. Gaetano Mosca (Varma, 1992, p. 205) asserted that social change is possible when the elite are unable to fulfill their functions and can thus be replaced by ordinary people who, through a learning process, increase their ability to acquire higher status. Mosca divided society into three classes, namely, elite, sub-elite, and mass. As Sastroatmodjo (1995, p. 16) argued, in the end, one’s social status affects one’s level of political participation.

The potential to garner benefits from its social status encourages the botoh to participate actively in politics. Aware of its position as an informal figure with sizable followings and thus as part of the strategic elite, the botoh has strengthened its bargaining position. It no longer serves merely as an instrument of mass mobilization and has now developed into a political player in his own right who must be considered. The botoh has thus undergone a metamorphosis from a cultural figure to a political actor. This chapter examines the shifts in the role of the botoh in Tuban Regency and the political processes that have pushed it toward taking on the role in contemporary Indonesian politics.

Sociocultural Features of Tuban Society

This section analyzes the sociocultural aspects of Tuban Regency in relation to the role of political parties in the direct election of Tuban District from 2001 and 2006. It encompasses the formal and informal contexts of party politics.

As an entry point, we identify the background of the political mobilization of Haeny Relawati, a candidate for village head during the Tuban District elections in 2001 and 2006. The botoh responsible for the mobilization was Mito, Chairman of the Coffee Shop (Warung Kopi) Society in Montong District. Mito said that he had urged regular customers at coffee shops to place bets on potential candidates during the Tuban Regency elections in 2006. Mito himself sponsored Haeny and her running mate Lilik for the reasons he gave below:

Before the election, Mrs. Haeny had organized coffee shop owners to form a cooperative called the Mega Mendung cooperative. It consisted of 20 people. The number of coffee shops in the district of Montong was approximately 200. I chose Mrs. Haeny because of her personality, a woman who, from the beginning, had good social interactions. She is also sincere, intelligent, and supportive of Golkar ideology, although other parties support other candidates in the 2006 election. Before D-day, the climate of the elections was so intense that board members [of the cooperative] were called for a meeting at the Mustika hotel. I was invited and asked by her whether I could gather votes. And I answered, I could round up votes of about 800 people in a village. And indeed, I managed to get her 967 votes from my village.

This statement shows that before the 2006 Pilkada of Tuban Regency was held, Haeny–Lilik indirectly mobilized the masses and community leaders to support their nomination. This was one of Haeny–Lilik’s maneuvers to build a personal political network. At the time, some survey institutions sided with Haeny–Lilik in their assessment of the possible outcomes of the 2006 Tuban elections. Mito was well-acquainted with Haeny–Lilik and with Haeny’s husband, Ali Hassan, a prominent businessman and senior politician in the Golkar Party. Additionally, the network of cooperatives and the botoh that was established and pioneered by Ali Hasan made Mito dependent on them for the needs of his coffee shop. It indicates the formation of a deep patron–client bond between Mito and Ali Hasan or Haeny–Lilik. The role of Mito in the nomination of Haeny–Lilik was significant, as can be seen from the following acknowledgment made by Mito:

My role is to plunge into small communities, approaching the old and young, whatever the community demands for its environment. I will be ready to propose it in the kecamatan through the coordinator of the District. One time, there was an incident. My men were performing a play in a tourist spot and there was a turmoil because of the entrance fee, but this problem was solved, thanks to Mrs. Haeny. Haeny-Lilik also visited stalls to campaign. They provided supplies needed by the coffee shops. They are ahead in the election because of the coffee shop community. Apart from the coffee shops, cafes and karaoke places also have their own paguyuban (association).

Mito’s statement above suggests a reciprocal, patron–client relationship. Mito was willing to move the masses he controlled for the nomination of Haeny–Lilik apparently because he earned a commensurate reward. The campaign also succeeded in attracting the masses of another competing political organization, the Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa (PKB, The National Awakening Party) that had already committed to support the candidacy of Noor Nahar and Tjong Ping. Swing voters supported Haeny–Lilik on the grounds that the figure of Lilik Soeharjono was popular among the lower middle class. It also happened that Lilik was a PKB cadre. Mito had a strategic calculation in winning the game:

I am a pure volunteer, Mas [brother, a greeting form to the male interviewer], sincere in spending my own money to sponsor Haeny-Lilik. What the political botohs often expressed in the mass media [about Mito’s financial interest] is actually not true. The fact is like this: there is a traditional way of putting one’s stakes in an election, called ngapit. The pattern is 1:2 for one’s candidate versus the opponent. The Haeny-Lilik pair made the top bet, which meant that if Haeny-Lilik won, my friends who championed Haeny-Lilik would win 1, but if the opponent won, then those who championed Haeny-Lilik must pay twice over. Automatically, those who fought for the victory of Haeny-Lilik would desperately try their best.

From the above statement, Mito was clearly driven by Haeny–Lilik and Ali Hasan as one of the political botohs who have personal relationships with the candidates they support. He is no longer a proto-botoh (i.e., a botoh in the original sense) who gambles only for winnings regardless of who will become regent and vice regent. Mito, however, did not want to be called a botoh. Instead, he saw himself as a traditional political consultant, with a social motivation for the welfare of his village.

I can help as much as is within my capacity to mobilize the masses for those running for village head, or even for the position of Bupati. But in return, I request that they provide streetlights or road improvements for my village.

Mito has also been a political botoh in other elections, with terms and rewards that he sets for the benefit of the community. Thus, showing how leadership roles are transformed to fit the demands of practical politics is necessary. In this way, the formation of party politics in Tuban Regency can be traced from the ways by which sociocultural factors shape informal political forces.

In a concrete form, informal politics are present in the figures of social leadership and in the kinship networks that operate similar to formal political power relations. This chapter contributes to the existing scholarship by offering insights into the way informal sociocultural aspects affect not only Tuban District elections but also the workings of political parties.

The important sociocultural aspects highlighted in this chapter are the control over and mobilization of sociocultural resources during the processes of power formation and political actions (Mochtar, 2011; Snyder, 2003). In the case of Tuban Regency elections, the figure of Mr. Ali Hasan, husband of Haeny, had a pivotal role. Ali Hasan, a senior Golkar Party politician, was born and raised in Palang, a Tuban subdistrict. At the village level, some other figures among the economic elite were also involved in local politics, through formal or informal processes.

The Transformation of Botoh

Hergianasari (2013) noted that the word botoh has a few different meanings. It may be a traditional political consultant who has the power to mobilize the masses to win elections for candidates it supports. However, the term also refers to a gambler, either an individual or a group of gamblers. In the Tuban Regency, gambling is inseparable from the botoh tradition. Over time, the botoh has formed associations (locally called paguyuban) called konco judi [literally, “gambling friends” or “companions”], made up of three interrelated elements: the botoh, botohan, and jathil. These associations began to display traits and lifestyles that set them apart from everyday society. They became increasingly visible, following the momentum of local and national politics, in the village head elections or even in regional and presidential elections. All these political events turn into betting occasions.

Etymologically, the original meaning of the word botoh as a gambler who bets on cockfights persists to this day. The botoh can thus be understood as a character who has particular advantages because of his skills in mapping out winnable situations for gambling, including the political momentum of the pilkades (village head elections), Pilkada (regional head elections), and pilpres (presidential elections). For these reasons, only a few people receive the title botoh and gain social recognition (Purwowijoyo, 1985, p. 3). Thus, a botoh frequently leads more than two botoh networks that serve as his accomplices. A botoh’s strength of character and his charisma often enable him to influence the voice of the masses at the grassroots and to exert strong influence to support political leadership at the village level and up to the district level and beyond, even to elite politics at the national level.

In the second part of the association, the botohan refers to the accomplice of the botoh at the broad regional level. Botohan is an association within the botoh network that is almost the same as the botoh, with the distinguishing feature that it is ranked second after the botoh in physical and psychic prowess. In terms of age, the botohan is younger (averaging between 20 and 35 years); in terms of influence, the botohan has far less than the botoh, and the botohan personality has yet to achieve full development. For example, the botohan is weak in field analysis and requires direct supervision from the senior botoh. Mohammad Fajar Pramono (2013) noted that because the existence of the botoh is rooted in the world of gambling or betting, these aspects are still visible in the lifestyles of the botoh past and present.

In an interview that took place on January 8, 2017, 79-year-old Carok Samani, a botoh who served as a village head and member of the legislative body, admitted that gambling and betting can never be completely separated from the botoh. A botoh earns wealth in several ways, one of them by winning at gambling. Nevertheless, Samani said that not all botohs earned their wealth by gambling. Some inherit wealth from their rich families. However, Samani noted that a person becomes an important botoh if he is willing to “learn” (understand) the winning strategies in gambling stakes. It is the botoh’s expertise in mapping out masses and the potential for mobilization that has established these traditional figures as influential and respected agents in their communities.

Through the enormous influence of this figure, the botoh has been inducted into the world of the traditional elite in Tuban society. The botoh is a leader of many gambling club members who can be mobilized for particular political purposes. In such cases, the botoh undergoes a metamorphosis from an entity belonging to the ordinary masses into a figure who occupies strategic political positions. Even as a gambler, the botoh plays a sociocultural role, and political office can begin when he becomes a lurah or a village head, a position opened to the electoral process upon the issuance of regulations, allowing for the direct elections of village heads in the New Order era. According to Tobron Turejo, many botohs have succeeded in being elected as village heads or lurah because they saw these potential openings. Given this experience in elections and with their proven ability to mobilize their mass base, in the wake of post–New Order reforms, political parties began to show a decided interest in botohs as political tools or political machines, as vote getters or legislative candidates.

The Struggle of Botoh in Local Politics

Pramono (2013) traced botoh involvement in state politics to the transfer of power from the Old Order to the New Order under President Soeharto. As previously mentioned, botoh activities used to mainly involve betting in cockfights. After power shifted to the New Order, more precisely in 1976 with the policy allowing for direct village head elections, the botohs awoke to the possibility of them taking part in local political contests. In the Tuban District itself, going back to the era of direct pilkades, many botohs plunged into active gambling by taking advantage of the momentum of these local elections, a process that revealed how botohs became affiliated with whoever was the ruling power and is under their control. Pramono (2013) assumed that botohs in their political roles functioned similar to an army. Soldiers depend on political authorities and are subservient and loyal to them. In this case, botohs served as stabilizers, following whoever was strong and in control. The role of stabilizers has now become visible. In his article “Politicization and Culture of Gambling as a Tool of Political Communication,” based on interviews with the late Mbah Wo Kucing, a respected botoh in Tuban, Pramono (2013) said that in gambling, botohs are used for political legitimacy and as political instruments of political leaders. Meanwhile, Yusuf Harsono, the founder of Yayasan Judi Tuban (Tuban Foundation of Gambling), revealed that the botoh role in local politics began around 1974 when botohs consciously or otherwise joined the mobilization organized by Indonesian political parties. Most botohs are community leaders with a fairly low level of education; however, considering that political parties like to recruit and utilize them as mass mobilizers to gain votes, they have strong social influence.

In 1976, when Golkar (Golongan Karya) came to power during the New Order era, botohs and konco judi groups supported it. Local governments then accommodated many botohs, granting them public and political positions. Many were appointed village heads or lurah. It was a new round in the modern political scene of Tuban. The botoh appointment to this structural position was intended to help maintain order in the area and to secure it from threats to the status quo. The appointment of botohs as village heads indeed kept the area safe and orderly. Yusuf Harsono expressed the following view:

In the New Order, the role of the botoh was increasingly in demand by authorities and botoh were targeted by political parties. The botoh as a cultural figure as well as a community leader obviously had real support from the masses, so it was this potential that attracted leaders and political parties to take advantage of the existence of the botoh. (Interview, 2017, February 7)

The role of botohs in politics continues to this day. In line with the political dynamics of their village or region, many botohs receive offers from political parties.

The Political Role of Botoh in the Era of Pilkada (Regional Elections)

In the present era, the role of botohs in politics can be differentiated into two periods: the era immediately following reformasi and the 2000s. During the immediate post-reform era, the botoh role at the political–legislative level was marked by the achievement of a position in the local parliament. During the post-legislative era in the 2000s, botohs no longer existed in the representative body. Botohs have evolved to retain a symbolic role. However, this evolution does not mean that the political role of botohs is over, as evident from the meeting between the Botoh Forum and the village head in Tuban. The purpose of this meeting, as written in M. Fajar Pramono’s Local Politics and Local Government (2013), was to invite botohs and other community components to be involved in discussing the future of Tuban Regency, especially to present critiques of the ongoing development of the area. This meeting also aimed at examining the vision, mission, and figure of the ideal regent for Tuban. The fact that botohs were invited demonstrates that they are still needed. Today, no senior botoh, born in the previous political era, occupies any political office. Therefore, how are they still providing their services? Tobron Turejo, an older botoh, admits that he continues to contribute to society. For example, he spends time in the organization to anticipate the latent threats of communism. In fact, he is still being offered the position of chair of various nonprofit organizations but has declined due to his age.

Tobron Turejo recently experienced some conflicts with young people in his party, an indication that the authority of botohs in practical politics has declined. However, in the nonpartisan political sphere, the role of botohs continues, for example, in social religious and cultural activities. In Local Politics and Local Government, Pramono (2013) observed that the decreasing role of botohs in Tuban politics is caused by several factors; among them is the increasingly pragmatic and rational orientation in society. Pramono (2013) argued that the community is more independent, that is, as people are better educated and have greater access to information, they no longer depend on particular personages (read: botoh). Political and culture dynamics previously dominated by botohs are now widely influenced by other figures, such as educators, academics, nongovernment organizations, entrepreneurs, and bureaucrats.

The Role of Botoh in the Political Dynamics of Tuban

As previously explained, gambling is entrenched in the Tuban Regency. Its characteristic culture involves drinking palm wine to accompany gambling. The heritage of gambling and drinking a traditionally specific palm wine reinforces symbolism that reveals the identity and character of the Tuban people. As previously discussed, the origin of botohs in gambling is undeniable, and to this day, some botohs are still identified as gamblers, albeit with a more socially oriented interest.

Hildred Geertz (in Magnis Suseno, 1985) stated that in the Javanese society, two rules of respectability exist. The first is the rule saying that in every situation, people should behave in such a manner to avoid creating conflicts. The second rule demands that personal speech, behavior, and personal presentation be commensurate with a person’s degree and position. Personal charisma is thus important. These rules clearly apply to the way in which the community views botohs who are respected for their physical and personal charismas. When botohs become leaders of konco judi groups, members obey all orders, thereby avoiding conflicts. Similarly, when botohs are appointed village heads, no one will dare to oppose them. That is, when a botoh is a village head, the area becomes safe and shows a marked difference from earlier conditions. Botohs as political actors are products of their culture. As we know, botohs thrive in a trading or betting culture. They are born in the gambling culture and grow and mature in it. Consequently, from generation to generation, the gambling tradition has produced botoh politicians, enabling them to play the role of regional security stabilizers, in the executive and legislative branches of government.

As this generation of botohs has reached their end through age and with the birth of a new generation displaying different characteristics, senior botohs have begun to be politically marginalized. Tobron Turejo, on the Board of Trustees of Golkar, has been challenged by young politicians in a rivalry that at one point almost ended in physical conflict. This event is heartbreaking, in which a respected botoh had to submit to the challenge from a younger generation. C.A. Van Peursen posited a three-stage cultural model for social change, going from the mythological state to the ontological state, and eventually to the functional stage: the mystical/mythological state is the attitude of humans who feel surrounded by magical forces. The ontological stage is the attitude of the person who no longer lives surrounded by mystical power but wishes to examine all matters freely. The functional state is the attitude and mindset increasingly visible in modern society. In this stage, human beings are no longer fascinated by their mystical surroundings; no longer have a cold, objective distance from their subjects of investigation (the ontological attitude), but instead want to establish new relationships and form new interconnections. In the mystical stage, the community follows botoh leadership in the sociopolitical sphere because botohs are considered to have the ability to analyze social problems and overcome them. Apart from respecting botohs for their skills, people are also afraid to oppose them. When society enters the ontological and functional stages, the botohs, originally revered for their ability to control the magical world, no longer occupy the same role. Today’s society demands leaders to have the capacity to solve concrete problems: alleviating poverty, facilitating inexpensive education, reducing community burdens, and not merely to be a mystical and charismatic symbol.

Conclusion

Botohs morphed from the gambling arena of cockfighting into the contestation of village chief elections. A symbiotic mutualism exists in botohs’ rise to a higher social class, as they are rational actors whose work is supported by informal (cultural) institutions. The existence of botohs in the contestation of elections cannot be separated from the element of money politics. Nevertheless, botohs have contributed to the democratic process. Through their particular style of approach and working mechanisms, botohs have increased voter turnout, encouraged the political participation of people, and brought them to the voting places. This phenomenon also suggests the weakness of formal democratic institutions that have failed to give appropriate political education to the public at large (Nurhasim, 2007). This hollow spot during the process of public political education has been filled by the culture of botohs and their informal cultural networks.

For democratic system development efforts to run optimally in elections, whether presidential, regional, or village elections, introducing the holistic improvements of formal political institutions and a good regulation of democratic processes are necessary. Despite all the controversies, botohs have served to support popular democracy, as they place their stakes on personal reputation, trust, and loyalty—values that ought to be upheld by all political institutions. Whether the betting culture out of which the botoh tradition emerged is still operating in the arena of contemporary democracy in Indonesia today is another issue that demands reflection.