The plight of Chinese Indonesians: distrusted in Jakarta, forgotten in
China
The drama surrounding ethnic minority governor Basuki Tjahaja Purnama
has reawoken anti-Chinese sentiments that stretch as far back as the building
of modern Jakarta
In a year marked by high-stakes elections and divisive candidates,
Indonesia has a contribution to make – the race for the governorship of Jakarta
and blunt-speaking candidate Basuki Tjahaja Purnama.
The gubernatorial election is considered the second
most important in the world’s largest Muslim democracy and a springboard to the
presidency. This year is particularly interesting because of the controversy
surrounding the leading candidate – the incumbent Basuki, more commonly known
by his Hakka Chinese name, Ahok.
A Christian and an ethnic Chinese minority, Basuki is accused
of blasphemy regarding a campaign speech in September in which he
suggested voters were being misled by those who cited the Koran as saying they
should not vote for non-Muslims. He is now facing a trial that could lead to a
lengthy jail term. The incident also triggered some of the
largest protests Jakarta has seen in recent years.
Still, Basuki and his deputy scored the most votes
(42.9 per cent) in the first round of the 2017 election last week. But as no
side managed to get 50 per cent of the votes, the election will now go to a
second round.
The campaign against Basuki is complicated. His
ethnicity is not the most important factor. Nonetheless, the drama did trigger
anti-Chinese sentiments in Indonesia. With a long history persecution, the
Chinese community is duly worried. Hate speech towards ethnic Chinese has
surged recently, with fake news being circulated about local Chinese colluding
with Beijing, harbouring evil plans. The most far-fetched stories included a
Chinese plan to invade Indonesia and Beijing using “biological weapons”
(contaminated chilli seeds) to destroy the Indonesian economy.
Ironically, most people in China are blissfully
oblivious to the news, which receives little coverage in the mainland media.
When asked, a mainland editor shrugged. “No, there is no order to censor it.
People just don’t care and they are not interested.”
This is perhaps a reflection of the plight faced by
many Chinese Indonesians. Even though their forefathers were among the first
settlers of the archipelago and built the modern city of Jakarta, Chinese
Indonesians have always been eyed with suspicion by the local population. Yet,
back in China, they are seldom remembered. To appreciate their situation, it’s
worth remembering how Jakarta came into being.
Modern Jakarta was founded by Dutch captain Jan
Pieterszoon Coen, who was sent by the Dutch East India Company (VOC) to explore
the lucrative pepper trade in Indonesia. Coen, a capable but ruthless leader,
seized the port town in 1619 and razed it to the ground. On the smouldering
ruins of old Jakarta, he wanted to build a Dutch stronghold to funnel the VOC’s
trade in Asia. The newly named Batavia was 10,000 miles from Holland by the way
of the Cape of Good Hope. Coen struggled to find workers to complete his
ambitious project.
Long before the arrival of the Dutch, the lure of
pepper had brought the Chinese to Java and Sumatra. Coen saw the Chinese as the
answer to his problem – they were less hostile than the locals and had rich
knowledge in city building. The demand for Chinese labour was so high that in
the early years of the city’s history, Chinese people were abducted and brought
to Batavia to build the city. Dutch historian Leonard Blussé described Batavia as
a “Chinese city under Dutch protection”. Many stayed and married Balinese
slaves brought to the city by the Western colonisers.
The Dutch diverted Chinese traders to Batavia by
blockading ports in eastern Sumatra. Soon, Chinese junks started to frequent
Batavia. In 1694, more than two million pounds of pepper were sold to 20
Chinese junks – more than an average European country consumed in a whole year
at the time. The Dutch pulled out of direct trade with China and allowed the
Chinese ships to visit the archipelago without permits – a privilege they did
not extend to fellow European merchants. They carefully managed the Chinese
settlers, preventing them from mingling with the locals. By playing the two
sides against each other, Coen maintained his iron grip on the city.
The cosy ties between the Dutch and the Chinese did
not last. After the fall of the Ming Dynasty in 1644, many Chinese, particularly
those in Fujian ( 福建 ) and
Guangdong, fled from the Manchurian conquerors to Southeast Asia. They started
working in sugar plantations owned by local Chinese. By 1710, surviving records
showed that 79 out of the 84 sugar plantations near Batavia were owned by the
Chinese. By the 1730s, 50 per cent of the 24,000 Batavia population were
Chinese. The Dutch soon started to impose immigration quotas and heavy taxation
on the Chinese.
The situation developed into a full-blown crisis
when the market for Batavian sugar collapsed in the late 1730s. The VOC
authorities planned to solve the unemployment problem by shipping countryside
Chinese to Ceylon (Sri Lanka). Rumours started to emerge that they planned to
throw the Chinese into the sea. Chinese workers revolted, attacking the walls
of the city. The uprising was quickly put down and retribution was swift and
severe. The Dutch encouraged the local population to join their attacks on
Chinese homes and businesses. Thousands of Chinese houses were plundered and torched.
Some 10,000 Chinese lost their lives in the 1740 massacre – the first of many
anti-Chinese violent episodes in Indonesia.
Today, though ethnic Chinese make up just 4 per
cent of Indonesia’s population, they are resented due to their economic
success. Many of Indonesia’s wealthiest tycoons are ethnic Chinese.
Anti-Chinese sentiments regularly flare up and the Chinese population is often
accused of being China’s fifth column.
It should be remembered that historically most
Chinese immigrants came to Southeast Asia as refugees, escaping from political
turbulence or civil wars. Unlike Coen, they were not organised nor sent by
their government to conquer and colonise. Many were fearful and suspicious of
Beijing themselves. They settled and prospered in their new homes. While many
remain proud of their cultural heritage, they have no political affiliation or
loyalty towards the authorities in China.
Chow
Chung-yan is executive editor of the South China Morning Post, overseeing daily
print and digital operations
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