Gary LaMoshi, Denpasar – Some of the most contentious issues across Indonesia involve ngebor, drilling. In the far eastern province of Papua, the division of the wealth from gold mining and mitigating the ecological impacts of extraction figure prominently in the province's movement for independence.

In Aceh at the far northwest tip of the archipelago, where a ceasefire between separatists and the government teeters on the brink of collapse, economic and environmental concerns over oil and gas drilling combine with interpretations of Islam to create volatile, divisive passions that threaten national unity.

That description also fits dangdut singer Inul and her ngebor dance thrusting seismic rifts throughout Indonesian society.

Ainul Rokhimah was just another kid in East Java dreaming of escaping the grind of poverty through music. She traded her ambitions as a rock star for dangdut, Indonesia's popular folk music that mixes Indian, Middle Eastern, Malay and Portuguese rhythms with other influences ranging from jazz to Led Zeppelin. Like country music in the United States, dangdut has shaken off its low-class roots and gained mainstream appeal.

Saving her pennies from singing for Rp3,500 rupiah, she made her way to Jakarta, picking up a new name, Inul Daratista. More important, she picked up her trademark ngebor hip gyrations. Pirated video compact discs (VCDs) brought Inul nationwide exposure that has made her Indonesia's top-earning entertainer, commanding up to Rp20 million (more than US$423,000) per show, as well as the center of national controversy.

Elvis vs King Inul draws comparisons with a trend-setting, hip-swinging singer of another continent and era who also overcame humble roots to achieve fame so great he was identified by first name alone: Elvis. However, Elvis had it all over Inul in the looks and voice categories. Without those below-the-waist-drilling moves, nothing would distinguish Inul from thousands of skinny 25-year-old Indonesian females.

That made the outcome of Inul's meeting with Rhoma Irama particularly terrifying. The newcomer went to pay her respects to the singer popularly known as the King of Dangdut who introduced heavy metal to the genre's musical mix. In addition to those credentials, Rhoma is an Islamic cleric and head of the Association of Malay Music Artists, the dangdut trade group.

His highness reportedly lashed into Inul, characterizing her ngebor as "pornographic", and forbade her to sing any of his songs. He further accused Inul of "throwing dangdut music into the mud, tearing apart the nation's social fabric and encouraging illicit sex and rape". The Indonesia Council of Ulemas, the nation's second-largest Muslim organization, supported Rhoma's call for Inul to abandon drilling, as did the Alliance for Anti-Pornography Society.

Rhoma's comments triggered a swift backlash, the norm in Indonesia. Traditionally, the public has gone along with establishment figures, particularly venerable, successful ones and those with religious credentials. Rhoma wins the trifecta by those criteria.

Drilling rights controversy

However, the public reaction was decidedly for Inul, not against her. A poll in news weekly Tempo found nearly 80 percent opposition to banning Inul's performances. A majority of respondents contended that Rhoma overreacted out of jealousy to a new star threatening to eclipse his fame.

In addition to backing from the general public, more than 90 human-rights and civil-liberties groups declared their support for Inul's freedom of expression. So did President Megawati Sukarnoputri's husband and brother, along with former president Abdurrahman Wahid, who is also a former leader of Nahdlatul Ulama, the nation's largest Islamic organization. (Some wags noted that Wahid wouldn't see anything wrong with Inul's swaying since he's virtually blind.) Many readers will be able to judge for themselves when Inul's international tour swings throughout Asia, Australia, the Netherlands and the US.

Women's activists – outraged at Rhoma's update of the hoary suggestion that rape is a consequence of titillation with women to blame – and performers from the movie industry demonstrated their support for Inul last Friday in downtown Jakarta, presenting their interpretations of her ngebor dance from the back of a flatbed truck with Inul's music blaring. In West Java, several hundred dangdut artists held their own rally to back Inul's freedom of expression. Television stations continue to air Inul's snack-food and energy-drink commercials that include drilling.

It's fair to ask whether the controversy swirling around Inul and her twirling hips indicates Indonesia is growing up or dumbing down. With an estimated 40 million unemployed, no way out of an economic crisis in its sixth year, its first free direct presidential election ahead next year and no worthwhile candidates in sight, surely Indonesians have more pressing matters than an insignificant dangdut singer.

Questioning authority

Still, it's undeniable that Inul, like Elvis, indicates the times they are a-changin'. For example, it's a shift from the authoritarian days for public defiance of an old lion like Rhoma in favor of an underdog newcomer. While Rhoma may be yesterday's man, he still wields significant power behind the scenes in the music industry, where the real action in Indonesia remains.

Perhaps equally significant is the readiness to dismiss religious authorities' moral preaching. Inul found support in some Islamic circles, but that's beside the point. "This ought to tell people not to worry so much about the power of radical Islam here," one of my Muslim friends notes. "People don't follow everything they hear in the mosque".

Academics have seized on the defense of Inul's freedom of expression to demonstrate how much things have changed since the bad days of Suharto. However, support for Inul has been far from absolute. Some, like deposed president Wahid, contend that only the Indonesian Supreme Court can restrict expression. Others say that it's up to the community to set standards to replace those of Suharto's authoritarianism, warning of social and moral degradation without such standards.

It's interesting to note that defenses of Inul have been far more spirited and less qualified than those heard for journalists. You can dismiss that difference on simple grounds: watching a young woman sway her hips is far more appealing than anything you'd read in a newspaper. More cynical observers would add that whatever ripples Inul causes in Indonesia's moral fabric, there's little chance she'll upset the prevailing power structure beyond the music business.

Students of musical politics will note that Elvis pushed the boundaries in the US, but it took The Beatles, an injection of genius from overseas, to create a social revolution. Across the front page from Inul, news that Singapore's government investment company and Deutsche Bank bought the Indonesian government's stake in Bank Danamon is a reminder that such foreign inspiration is a long way off. Inul, her critics and supporters indicate that domestic genius is no more evident.