ACADEMICS.web.id – In late May 2025, thousands of Indonesian Muslims who had registered for the Hajj pilgrimage through the furoda (or mujamalah) pathway found themselves stranded. Despite being spiritually and financially prepared, they were denied departure to Mecca after Saudi authorities refused to issue them visas.
The public outcry has been intense, but beneath the headlines lies a deeper issue: a widespread misunderstanding of how Hajj pilgrimages are regulated, and where the lines of responsibility truly lie.
At the heart of the matter is a simple diplomatic fact: Indonesia’s official Hajj quota for 2025 is 221,000 pilgrims—a number agreed upon through a bilateral framework between the Indonesian and Saudi governments. These pilgrims are processed through the government’s regular Hajj system, which has long-established procedures and accountability mechanisms.
The furoda scheme is not part of this official agreement. It refers to private or special invitation visas issued at the discretion of Saudi authorities. As such, it operates outside the bilateral framework and is not guaranteed by any agreement between the two nations.
That’s why it is perplexing to see Indonesia’s Ministry of Religious Affairs lobbying the Saudi government for “extra visas” to accommodate furoda pilgrims. There is simply no such mechanism under the existing diplomatic arrangements. The correct question the Ministry should be asking is: who promised these pilgrims that their furoda visas were secure? What network or intermediary led travel operators to guarantee departures that never materialized?
No clear answers have been provided. And herein lies the real governance gap. Saudi Arabia, for its part, has abided by its quota commitments and continues to modernize its visa system to ensure transparency and fairness. The fault does not lie in Riyadh.
Instead, the Indonesian authorities must look inward—to the travel agencies operating in regulatory grey areas, and to the lack of public education about what furoda truly entails. Oversight is weak, and accountability even weaker. Many Indonesians, desperate for a shorter waiting time than the regular Hajj system allows, are left vulnerable to promises that are difficult to verify.
It is easy to frame this as a diplomatic failure. But in reality, this is a domestic policy challenge: how to govern the grey zones of religious travel in a way that balances spiritual urgency with administrative integrity.
Indonesia’s furoda crisis should serve as a turning point. A turning point where regulation, transparency, and moral responsibility converge. If Indonesian pilgrims are to be protected, the government must prioritize clear communication, robust supervision of private Hajj operators, and an unwavering commitment to truth—even when it is uncomfortable.
After all, the Hajj is not merely a logistical undertaking—it is one of the most sacred obligations in Islam. And those who serve the pilgrims must be held to the highest standard of integrity.@
Nakeisha Alea is a student of Diplomacy and International Law at Universiti Utara Malaysia. She regularly writes on politics, law, governance, and society.
