When Chinese Indonesian Andrew
Budikusuma, 24, was assaulted by several youths shouting “Ahok … you are Ahok
…” on a Transjakarta bus late last month, the police responded swiftly by
arresting the bullies in a matter of days. The incident has given rise to the
question why anti-Chinese sentiments remain embedded in the Indonesian psyche,
even when Chinese Indonesians have long been citizens. Clues to the answer may
be found in the fact that Sinophobia — and xenophobia — has been a staple
in the unchanging nature of Indonesian nationalism itself.
The physical bullying experienced by
Andrew certainly had all the signs of being a racially motivated act,
especially as his attackers were shouting the name of the incumbent Jakarta
Governor, Basuki Tjahja Purnama, popularly known as Ahok, who also happens to
be another Chinese Indonesian. The Basuki connection here is important;
and the timing of the incident also corresponds with the trend in the national
media in focusing on next year’s Jakarta gubernatorial election in which Ahok
will be running for a second term.
The mere notion that Basuki may win
his second term on his own merits — he was deputy governor alongside Joko
Widodo before the latter ran and won the 2014 presidential election — has
also ruffled many a feather in the anti-Chinese quarters. Sri Bintang
Pamungkas, leader of the now defunct the Indonesian Unitary Democracy Party
(PUDI) and one-time opposition figure during President Suharto’s rule, was
recorded on camera giving an incendiary oration against Basuki at a
“People’s Tribunal To Arrest and Indict Ahok” early last month.
In his speech, he alleged that both
President Joko Widodo and Basuki had conspired to bring about political
power for Chinese Indonesians, whom he called “damned foreign bastards,”
culminating in an Basuki presidency. He also called for the restoration of
the pre-amendment constitution which forbade the election of a president not of
“indigenous” ancestry. It is clear for people like him that nationalism means
power and privilege to the “indigenous” pribumi.
Anti-Basuki sentiments have also
become interchangeable with Sinophobia. Ahmad Dhani, celebrity
singer-turned-politico Ahmad Dhani, told the press that his
anti-Bauki stance might result in “the Chinese” ruining his business in
revenge but he wanted to ensure Indonesia did not fall to the “infidels.” A
Jakarta-based lawyer claiming to belong to the Bataknese Youth Brigade recently
posted an open letter challenging the governor to a 12-round boxing match,
signing himself at the end with the words “Lapak Pribumi” which roughly
translate to the “indigenous space.”
Such hate speech may be appalling to
modern sensibilities but Sinophobia — and xenophobia — was definitely
present at the birth of the modern Indonesian republic in 1945, and
anti-foreign sentiments became an important motivation to sustain the fight.
Although quite a few Chinese Indonesians
aided the republicans during the independence war between 1945 and 1949, it is
safe to say the Chinese community was split between those who wanted to support
Indonesia openly and those who did not. The confusion seems to have originated
from the question of nationality as, under China’s 1909 and 1929 laws, all
overseas Chinese regardless of place of birth were citizens of China. To make
matters complex, in 1910, the government of the Dutch East Indies also passed
its own Act on Dutch Subjects, which categorized Chinese born in the Indies to
be Dutch subjects, making the locally born peranakan dual citizens.
In his message to the nation published on
15 December 1945, president Sukarno made it known that the Chinese government
in Chungking had officially recognized Indonesian independence and urged his fellow
Indonesians to show gratitude and friendship towards the Chinese in the country
everywhere. By implication, Sukarno also did not see Chinese Indonesians as
citizens at this stage.
Yet the message went largely unheeded as
looting, burning and killing continued to haunt Chinese Indonesians throughout
the war of independence. Prior to the Battle of Surabaya in November 1945,
historian Irna Soewito wrote that most Chinese shops, fearful of being targeted
by the freedom fighters, were closed for business and hid behind barred doors.
Although many Chinese youths in Surabaya
later joined the fight against the British Indian forces charged to occupy
Surabaya, especially after a group of Chinese snipers with Dutch sympathies
were identified and captured, the general feeling was that the Chinese were
untrustworthy. Sutomo, better known as Bung Tomo, the republican chief
propagandist in Surabaya, was a proponent of this belief, which he often
expressed in unflattering terms in his radio broadcasts.
Bung Tomo’s brand of nationalism, steeped
in xenophobia, evidently found much support at the time. His radio speeches
were eagerly awaited by the masses and the man was posthumously honored with
the status of national hero in 2008.
Yet a research done by Rosalind Hewett of
the Australian National University (ANU) elicited a testimony by an Indonesian
woman that Bung Tomo had been the ringleader behind the infamous kangaroo court
at the Simpang Society Building to torture and execute Dutch civilians and
those accused of being their sympathizers including Menadonese, Ambonese and
Timorese Indonesians.
Nor did the woman deliver her testimony
out of criticism of Bung Tomo, who was her hero. She did so to testify to his
list of achievements. The rabid xenophobia in his wake did not bother his
contemporaries. Rather, it seemed to fuel the revolution in parts, and it would
remain a latent force in modern day Indonesia.
Today’s anti-Chinese provocateurs like Sri
Bintang Pamungkas have been trying to resurrect the old demon by painting
Chinese Indonesians as the common “foreign” enemy akin to the Dutch. Such
misguided and simplistic view of history still gains traction because of the
way history is taught in the country.
To illustrate, any revelation of the
darker deeds of Bung Tomo will probably be met with disbelief by the majority
of Indonesians who were brought up learning the rosier government-sanctioned
version of his life. Many would even argue his deeds were born out of
necessity. Such is the selective nature of history retelling in the country
that most Indonesians are unaware that Bung Tomo, touted as a revolutionary
leader, never actually shot a rifle or fought on the battlefield; his endeavors
were limited within the confines of his Rebel Radio studio.
One thing is certain: as long as
Indonesians continue to be immured against all the facets of their own history,
Indonesian nationalism is set to remain crudely inimical to diversity, gravely
hampering the growth of civic culture that any modern nation-state needs.
Johannes Nugroho
No comments:
Post a Comment