Duncan Graham, Gembol (East Java) – Westerners who have seen concerts or videos featuring Indonesia's top entertainer Inul Daratista wonder what the fuss is all about. The archipelago's No 1 dangdut singer and dancer performs fully dressed – and stays that way.

Sure, her pants test Lycra's stretch ratings and she does a rather basic ferret-in-a-sack wiggle that leaves lots to the imagination. By Western standards of risque, however, it's a bit of a bum show.

But not in Indonesia, where the nation's moral guardians are fighting to purge the land of so-called Western influences. Ironically, perhaps, dangdut has no Hollywood antecedents; it's a mix of thumping, jangling Indian, Malay and Arab music that sounds like a cacophony to many outsiders.

It's Inul's bottom-rotating ngebor (boring, as in drilling) dance style that the country's Muslim clerics say they find lewd and a threat to national morals. Infuriated by her growing popularity, success and independence, they are now pushing for new legislation outlawing a range of codes and behaviors, which, if implemented, would throw a cold blanket on her act.

Most of the proposed legal provisions concern the way women dress and behave. Liberals see the bill as a bid to impose strict Islamic sharia law on the nation, where an estimated 90% of the 240 million population consider themselves Muslim.

These are just the bubbles on the surface; below is a seething cauldron of gender politics, state control of the arts, and the future shape of Indonesia's infant democracy. And Inul's gyrating dance is at the heart of the controversy.

Inul was an unknown from the industrial East Java town of Gempol who hit the capital Jakarta's big time in 2003 with her ngebor style. In many ways, her dancing captured the ebullient mood of a country boldly experimenting with long-repressed freedoms.

During president Suharto's 32-year dictatorship, dangdut was fully appropriated and manipulated by the government. The traditional music's raunchy lyrics and movements were cleaned up and it was toned down to promote state-determined values.

Singer and presidential favorite Rhoma Irama became the state-appointed king of dangdut, then reigning on the government-run television stations. In 1998, Suharto fell, media restrictions were lifted, private TV stations opened, and artists started freely expressing themselves for the first time in decades.

Including Inul – and to Rhoma's displeasure. He banned her from using his songs and condemned her for corrupting dangdut. In fact, Inul had really returned dangdut back to its village roots, asserting its home-grown robustness, expressing the hopes and fears of the country's poor and downtrodden. Simply put, dangdut is the music of the poor and Inul is their gutsy gal.

Now she faces a much bigger threat from the country's increasingly vocal and politically powerful Islamic fundamentalist groups. Although the hardline Indonesian Ulemas' Council listed her performances under an Islamic fatwa against pornography, the controversy just helped to draw bigger crowds.

In the 2004 general election, she became the warm-up act most wanted for political rallies. A record 3 million copies of her pirated video were reported to have been sold. Inul lookalikes popped up everywhere.

Pornographic interpretations

Fast-forward to the present. The proposed bill against pornography and "pornographic acts" – which includes the exposure of female flesh – is clearly directed at the likes of Inul and her multiplying imitators.

Political commentators claim that the raging debate has exposed a national fault line – pitching the insular, poorly educated, easily led majority in the countryside versus the more urbane, better-schooled city folk with liberal pretensions – that will be hard to bridge. The latter are the noisier group – but they don't have the numbers, so the controversial bill may yet become law.

The president, former military general Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, has given some comfort to the bill's supporters by throwing out of the state palace a dancer who planned to expose her midriff during a performance. He has also publicly condemned the public display of female navels.

The bill's backers have branded opponents broadly as moral corruptors. Such ethnic groups as the Balinese, whose bare-shouldered traditional dress would be banned under the planned legislation, have joined Jakarta entertainers in protest rallies where Inul has been prominent. Her group says there are already plenty of laws on the statutes to protect society and that the anti-pornography law is unnecessary for a democratic society.

For speaking out on the issue, though, Inul has been ordered out of Jakarta by the Betawi Brotherhood – a fundamentalist group that claims to act on behalf of the city's traditional folk. One of Inul's karaoke lounges has already been attacked by a mob from the Islamic Defenders' Front – another band of thugs in Muslim garb – and she has been publicly condemned by various other hardliners.

During Suharto's rule demonstrations were tightly controlled and protests rapidly suppressed – often brutally. Under democracy, street rallies and random acts of violence have become commonplace – often under the passive gaze of police officials. Recently, Yodhoyono indicated that he would move against violent religious groups, but so far there have been no significant round-ups or arrests.

That has Inul's supporters on edge that she could become a high-profile target for extremists. "I don't intend to leave Jakarta and I'm not afraid of the Betawi," Inul said from her home in East Java. "I'm afraid of the way that the government is handling the problem. I'm frightened about what's happening to Indonesia."

Unlike many other successful celebrities who flee their origins for an exclusive address, Inul has remained loyal to her roots. Although she employs security guards in Jakarta, her home in Gempol relies on neighborhood support for protection, she said.

So far, the personal attacks seem to have saddened the unpretentious 29-year-old rather than suppressing her fighting spirit. Her dancing career started when she was 12, and she's often described by her supporters as tough, self-assured and determined. And, significantly, she's a devoted Muslim, albeit of the moderate kind.

"I'm a Muslim, serious about my faith. I regret the things some Muslim clerics are saying," Inul said in an interview. "Why are they bothering with anti-pornography? Why are they always talking about women? The priorities in this country should be getting people jobs and a better education."

Inul said she employed more than 750 staff at her seven karaoke lounges. She has also been approached by a number of political parties to consider a career in politics, but so far she has declined all of the offers. "It's too corrupt," she said.

Through her spirited fight against the anti-pornography bill, she has fast emerged as one of Indonesia's most visible women's rights activists. "I want to lift the status of women. I want them to be brave enough to take risks." More than words, it's an example by which the vibrant dancer lives.

[Australian journalist Duncan Graham (www.indonesianow.blogspot.com) lives in Surabaya, East Java.]