Indonesia’s PT Republik Armamen recently debuted its new IFAR22 shoulder-fired assault rifle at Indo Defence. The IFAR, Indonesian Future Assault Rifle, is Bullpup configuration in 5.56×45 NATO calibre. The Bullpup features the receiver and magazine to the rear of the trigger. This approach allows for a longer barrel without an increase in the overall length […]
Restoring religious and cultural complexity to the study of Southeast Asian Islam
In recent decades, scholarship on Southeast Asian Islam – as with Islam elsewhere – has become dominated by the fields of politics, international relations or security studies. These studies often characterise faith as something delineated, measurable and susceptible to state-directed change. Much of these analyses overlook the subtle variations in Islamic life, and the disjunctions between formal orthodoxy and everyday religious experience. How Muslims comprehend and express their faith ranges widely, crosses typological boundaries, and confounds many of the accepted categories applied to Islam.
Our speaker Greg Fealy is emeritus professor in the Department of Political and Social Change. He specialises in the study of Islamic politics and history, primarily in Indonesia, but also other Muslim-majority regions in Southeast Asia.
Hosted by the ANU Indonesia Institute, this annual lecture series honours both Tony and Yohanni’s enduring legacy at ANU, focussing on humanities studies across Nusantara and the Malay and Islamic worlds, as well as the examination of Austronesian identity.
Read the lecture below:
It is a privilege to be invited to give this inaugural address in honour of Tony and Yohanni Johns. In the long and distinguished history of Southeast Asian studies at ANU, no other couple have made such a sustained and substantial contribution. For more than three decades, Tony and Yohanni were the bedrock upon which studies of the region, and especially Indonesia, rested. Over the next 40 minutes, I will be talking mainly about Tony’s remarkable academic achievements, because I have worked more closely with him than with Yohanni. But this endowment honours the work of both Yohanni and Tony, and they have indeed had an extraordinary and mutually supportive partnership. Both shared in and contributed to the successes of the other and, when needed, they provided candid counsel to each other. The bond between them has been indissoluble and no account of the rise of Asian studies at ANU is complete without the story of Tony and Yohanni. Having said that, I will be spending less time discussing Yohanni than Tony and for that, I apologise, Yohanni. Hopefully this imbalance will be redressed in a later annual Johns’ lecture.
My talk is divided into three sections: first, I will outline the careers of Tony and Yohanni; second, I will examine in more detail Tony’s scholarship and teaching; and third, I will turn to the thematic part of my talk in which I will address the topic of “Restoring Religious and Cultural Complexity to the Study of Southeast Asian Islam”.
Tony and Yohanni’s Careers
Tony was born in England in 1928 and Yohanni a year later in the province of West Sumatra, Indonesia. In Tony’s childhood he had come to know something of Islam by reading books such as T. E. Lawrence’s The Seven Pillars of Wisdom that he found in his grandfather’s library. He was conscripted into the British army in 1946 and sent to Singapore and Malaya the following year. There he became bewitched with the Malay world and language, as well as with the rich Muslim life that he observed around him: the daily devotions, the design and function of the mosques, the role of the imam.He later wrote:
A seed of understanding was sown when Malay friends in 1949 invited me to be present at the congregational prayer of the Idul Adha in the Abu Bakr mosque in Johor Baru. For half an hour before the formal prayer began, I listened to the takbir, the congregational chanting of the phrase and prayer Allahu Akbar. There was rhythm, movement, exultation in their voices that rolled like the swell of the sea. It stayed in my mind and haunted my memory. It was an introduction to the resonances of Arabic as a liturgical language.
After concluding military service, Tony returned to England and studied classical Malay language, culture and literature at the School of Oriental and Asian Studies in London, eventually graduating with a PhD. He yearned to return to Southeast Asia and got his chance in 1954 when the Ford Foundation employed him as an English-language teacher in Indonesia. He was very quickly swept up in the vibrancy of the country. After the staidness of Malaya, he found Indonesia, to use his own words, ‘a mind-blowing experience!’ He was fascinated with the swirl of revolutionary fervour within the newly independent nation. He listened to the soaring rhetoric of Sukarno and beheld the clamorous campaigning of the diverse array of politicians and parties contesting elections in the mid-1950s. He devoured the works of contemporary authors is they wrote of their hopes or despair about their nation’s direction. A gifted musician himself, he also took in the diverse palette of music and arts that surrounded him, including learning to sing Javanese music. After years of studying classical Malay texts from centuries past, he now found himself immersed in something immediate and brimming with passion – as he later wrote, he had found ‘something to relate to from the heart’. Most of all he found that Indonesia presented a ‘gateway to the world of Islam’, with a far greater range of Muslim expression than he had encountered in Malaya.
It was also in West Sumatra, Indonesia, where Tony met and fell in love with Yohanni, a young in-service trainer in the Ford Foundation project in early 1955. As their romance blossomed a large obstacle presented itself: she was from a strict Muslim family and he was a devout Catholic. Interfaith marriages were (and indeed still are) frowned upon in Indonesia and often implacably rejected by families. But Tony and Yohanni were not deterred and, in an early display of their combined resolve and resourcefulness, they were eventually married in Singapore in 1956. They recently celebrated their 66th wedding anniversary. They represent a salutory example of how marriages across faiths can flourish, with the religiosity of each partner accepted and respected in a relationship underpinned by mutual love.
In 1958, Tony was appointed to what was then known as Canberra University College, soon to become ANU, to teach Malay and Indonesian studies. The initial years of this Indonesian program were funded by the Indonesian government as part of a ‘reverse Colombo Plan’ for Australian students. Tony soon put together a team which would make ANU one of the leading centres for studying Indonesian. He recruited Soebardi and later Supomo from Indonesia, who would become dear colleagues, and employed many other Indonesians in the program in the ensuing years.
Yohanni, herself a skilled linguist and experienced teacher, became a tutor in 1961 and a few years later was appointed lecturer. Over the next three decades, she became a central figure in the Indonesian program. She wrote two very popular textbooks: Bahasa Indonesia: Introduction to Indonesian Language and Culture, volumes one and two, which became pretty much standard texts for secondary and tertiary students (including me!) across Australia. The books were reprinted many times and used in the Netherlands and the United States, and probably many other countries as well. In the following years, Yohanni’s teaching left an indelible impression on the many hundreds of students who passed through ANU’s Indonesian program, not to mention the thousands of people across numerous countries who learned Indonesian through her textbooks.
Tony was promoted to professor in 1963 and served several terms as dean of the then Faculty of Oriental Studies (later to be the Faculty of Asian Studies). The mid-1960s were watershed years for Tony, as he shifted the focus of his research more intently to Arabic and Islamic disciplines. He took study leave in Egypt and various other parts of the Middle East, which initially he found deeply challenging. He felt his Arabic was inadequate and it took intensive study for him to begin to use the kinds of texts that he regarded as essential to the next phase of his academic life. His concentration on Arabic met with disapproval from some of his Southeast Asianist colleagues, who feared he would move away from the study of the region. But in fact, his reason for becoming an Arabist was to better understand Indonesian Islam. Deeper knowledge of Indonesian scholarship could only be gained by gaining first-hand access to the great texts and disciplines that Indonesian Islamic scholars themselves used, and this required high-level Arabic competency.
In the late 1960s, Tony began teaching Arabic at ANU. He had a vision that Arabic should be located within Southeast Asian studies, a unique initiative that would, in later years, produce a string of excellent scholars, such as Tony Street, now Reader at Cambridge University, Fr Laurie Fitzgerald, who taught at ANU and The Australian Catholic University, Peter Riddell, who recently retired as professor at the Melbourne School of Theology, and Mike Laffan, who is professor of history at Princeton University. Sadly, this novel integration of Southeast Asian, Arabic and Islamic Studies came to an end a little over 20 years ago and no similar program exists now, to my knowledge, outside of Southeast Asia. Tony retired in 1993 after 35 years of service to ANU; Yohanni retired as a senior lecturer two years later.
Tony’s Scholarship and Teaching
Tony’s scholarly output has been immense and I am pleased to note that it is still growing! By my reckoning, he has published 78 articles in scholarly journals, 47 book chapters, 19 reviews and 10 books, and that is without mentioning his many entries in major reference works, such as his seven articles in Brill’s monumental Encyclopedia of Islam – a signal honour to be invited to write multiple contributions.
The broad arc of Tony’s work is as follows: he began in Southeast Asia studying Sufi Malay-language texts, then graduated to the study of the teachers of Indonesian Islamic scholars in the Middle East and the Arabic language foundational texts that they used, and ended with the study of the Qur’an. Within this arc, the scope of his work was remarkable, including translations and commentaries on classical Malay Islamic texts, translations of modern Indonesian literature, descriptions and analysis of Islamic mysticism, Qur’anic exegesis, Islamic theology and comparative theology, accounts of Australia’s Muslim community, interfaith relations, historical accounts of Islam’s coming to and influence upon Southeast Asia, and studies of prophets present in Islamic, Christian and Jewish scripture. It is this later work on the prophets of which Tony is most proud. Across these topics, Tony was capable of writing on highly specialised, narrow and sometimes obscure texts or issues, producing findings that were accessible to a small expert audience. But he was equally capable of addressing big questions in the field and engaging in rigorous debate with other eminent scholars.
It is in his articles in scholarly journal articles, rather than in his books, where much of Tony’s finest work is to be found. Many of these are the leading journals in their fields, such as: the Journal of Islamic Studies, the Journal of Asian Studies, the Journal of Qur’anic Studies, Archipel, the Journal of Southeast Asian History, the Review of Middle Eastern Studies and Hamdard Islamicus. He even published pieces in the Australian literary journals Meanjin Quarterly and Quadrant, which indicated his desire to reach a much broader audience.
An example of Tony’s tackling of big issues was his article challenging the accepted view that it had been traders who were primarily responsible for the spread of Islam in Southeast Asia. He did not dispute that merchants had played a role but he argued that the deeper penetration of Islam was due to learned men, mystics and Islamic scholars, rather than traders. This was later often referred to as the Drewes-Johns debate, a reference to the Dutch Indologist, DWJ Drewes. Tony later substantially revised his opinion on this but nonetheless it was a substantial contribution to scholarly debate.
What of the essence of Tony’s writings? What hallmarks of his scholarship might we find within them? He recently wrote that ‘his concerns throughout his career were, and always have been, language, character and human responses to crises – of pain, joy and hope.’ So it is at once technical – to have a high command of the necessary languages to undertake this work – but also quintessentially human-focused. Tony was ultimately concerned about people. Linguistic, literary and historical skills were all means of gaining insight into the lives and motivations of individuals or communities. And for him, Arabic was a sub-text behind vernacular writings showing how faith was understood. Tony was always talking about layers; the task of the scholar was to explore what these layers contained. The outward, superficial layer was perhaps at best a small part of the story. One had to have the linguistic and disciplinary skills plus the imagination to delve further. This subtle, sensitive exploration of sources and human feelings was present in all of Tony’s teaching and his writings.
He brought a similar sensibility to his teaching. In classes he was always urging students to feel within themselves the rhythm of Qur’anic phrases or feel the sounds of Indonesian or Arabic words. He urged memorisation of at least some verses of the Qur’an because that way students could experience the words unfettered by the printed page. There was nothing detached or mechanical about this method; one had to embrace the language and its culture wholeheartedly. One also had to be precise and to show full respect to the original text, fully understanding words and how their meaning might change within sentences and different contexts.
In an Introduction to a forthcoming volume, Tony has written that his scholarly journey has been ‘as much one of unlearning as learning’. This typifies his humility and constant introspection. In his later work, he is frequently at pains to reflect back upon his earlier writings, diligently noting where there may have been errors in fact or interpretation. This sense of fallibility and striving for improvement is a feature of his scholarship. I now want to turn to the thematic part of this address.
Restoring Religious and Cultural Complexity to the Study of Southeast Asian Islam
Over the past 20-30 years, we have seen a change in the scholarly and policy discourse on Islam. Whereas once this field gave prominence to scholars of religion and its culture and history, now social scientists, particularly political scientists and experts in international relations and security studies have come to dominate. This is especially the case since the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington DC in Sept 2001 – the 911 attacks. With this catastrophic event, Islam suddenly leapt to being a paramount issue for governments, especially Western governments, and also, to some extent, the public. There was urgent demand for expertise to help states and the public comprehend what had happened and what could be done to reduce the threat of further attacks. Very soon, this discourse came to crystalise around what was often termed the ‘Islam problem’, that Islam contained within it radical tendencies that needed to be denounced, repressed or even expunged. This became part of a broader discussion about Islam’s nature which was often cast in essentialising terms. You will be very familiar with some of these: that Islam was ‘a religion of peace’, that Muslims were fundamentally irenic, that radicalism sprang from a misunderstanding or ‘deliberate distortion of Islam’s true teachings’. And so the policy priorities that flowed from this were based on a need to identify who or what represented ‘true’ Islam, and how could these been helped, while, at the same time, identifying the deviant radicals. Such policies were seen as not only preventing horrific terrorism but also restoring Islam to a benign and pristine form. Counter-terrorism and anti-radicalisation programs were rolled out and projects to foster moderate, tolerant, pro-Western views were initiated.
Relatively few scholars involved in these policy processes were experts in religion per se, let alone Islam. Instead, it was political scientists, IR experts and security studies specialists who held sway, both in shaping public debate and in informing governments of policy options. These social scientists brought very specific views and indeed assumptions to their work on religion. They saw it as a distinct, generalisable component of social and political analysis; religion was something that stood apart from other factors, such as history, the economy and culture. It was possible to understand Islam by itself, shorn of its local particularities and variations. Especially for quantitative scholars, Islam was seen as something objectively measurable through surveys and big data sets. Such approaches and analyses could produce universal theories and broadly applicable templates for action. They could measure the presence of radical or moderate attitudes and pinpoint opportunities for programmatic intervention. Perhaps predictably, instant experts and think tanks and university centres quickly emerged that readily joined in the efforts to ‘fix’ Islam.
Elizabeth Shakman Hurd in her excellent book Beyond Religious Freedom called the phenomenon ‘The Religious Reform Project’. This referred to the efforts of Western governments to intervene in Islamic communities in ‘at risk’ nations in order to overcome Islam’s problems. In fact, what was proposed was extensive state engineering of religious attitudes. Islam became the object of government intervention, not just by Western governments, but very often by governments of Muslim-majority nations, many of which brought their own political and social agendas to the combatting radicalism and promoting moderation. Few institutions better epitomised this thinking than the Tony Blair Foundation in Britain. Blair held forth frequently about the ‘two faces of Islam’: the bad and the good. Let me quote:
There are two faces of faith in our world today. One is seen not just in acts of religious extremism but also in the desire of religious people to wear their faith as a badge of identity in opposition to those who are different. The other face is defined by extraordinary acts of sacrifice and compassion – for example in caring for the sick, disabled or destitute. All over the world this battle between the two faces of faith is being played out.
Thus, all good resided on one side and all bad on another. His foundation committed itself to repressing the bad and encouraging the good. It was generously funded and provided a high-profile, post-prime ministerial platform for Blair’s international activism. The Blair Foundation is one of dozens of such institutions that seeks nothing less than to transform religion. Hurd notes this Religious Reform agenda has almost replaced the secularist project: religion is no longer seen as a private, internal matter for communities; it is now essential to improving life in the public sphere. In short, religion is an agent of public good.
So, what is problem with this model? Could one not argue that it is commendable to assist Muslims in combatting militancy within their faith and promoting tolerance and peace? Would this not help to bring security and harmony to the world as well as to Muslim communities? Well, the answer to these questions is that these Religious Reform agendas are far less successful than claimed and indeed may often be counter-productive.
First of all, the problem with religious interventions is the sheer shallowness of analysis and the failure to explore the assumptions that lie within. To begin with, the social science assumption that religion is distinct, is deeply flawed. Religion is not easily made a separate variable of analysis because it is inextricably linked to a range of other factors and cannot be easily disaggregated. Religious Reform agendas actually carry secularist assumptions because they treat religion as something that autonomous and circumscribed. Asef Bayat, the influential Iranian-American sociologist, dismissed attempts to isolate Islam from other domains:
Muslim societies’, he wrote, ‘are never monolithic as such, are never religious by definition, nor are their cultures confined to mere religion. National cultures, historical experiences, political trajectories as well as class affiliation have all produced different cultures and sub-cultures of Islam, religious perceptions and practices across and within Muslim nations.
William T. Cavanaugh, who has written extensively (and it must be admitted controversially) on the folly of isolating religions as a cause of war or peace, argues that faith is socially constructed and is inextricably tied to a complex of other factors.
Second, the reductive binary categories are inimical to any nuanced understanding as to what is actually going on in Muslim communities. To classify Muslims as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ makes no allowance of the range of views that Muslims might hold. A Muslim might favour democracy and the rule of law, but also be opposed to gender equality, LGBT rights and inter-faith dialogue. Does such a person fit into the good or bad box? Governments like binaries because provide clear options, but in reality they are Procrustean: they just ignore or chop off the bits that do not neatly fit the category. Binary approaches fail to do justice to subtle elements of political and religious life.
Let me give another example of Sufism and counter-terrorism. There was a time in mid-2000s when various US think tanks became convinced that Islamic mysticism was the solution to radicalism – a proposal of astonishing gormlessness. So, conferences and workshops were held and papers and articles published to this end. Needless to say, the ‘initiative’ achieved little apart from directing funding to an array of Sufi leaders and counter-terrorism experts. (When I told Tony about this at the time he burst out laughing and wondered how anyone could be so credulous!)
Third, the religious reform process produced harmful policies for Muslim communities. One of the most notable was the ‘securitisation’ of state relations with Muslim communities. Muslims were seen first and foremost in terms of the supposed threat that they posed.
This, in itself, produced mistrust of government and resentment in Muslim communities because the faithful were only viewed through the narrow filter of radicalism. It also distorts power relations within communities because government programs and money is being made available on the basis of whether they fit externally imposed criteria rather than the genuine needs of communities. Certain groups privileged; others treated with prejudice. The frequent result has been increased tensions within the Islamic community as favoured leaders and institutions reap the benefits of government support, while others miss out, regardless of their need. We can see this currently in Indonesia where Nahdlatul Ulama is the recipient of Religious Reform largesse from various countries yet other major organisations such as Muhammadiyah and Persis are largely excluded.
There is a hubris here, a conceit that deeply embedded religious norms can be altered with a few years of aid programs or international initiatives. States can repress certain types of Islam and foster others, but that is unlikely to greatly change what happens deep within society and its religious communities. There are limits to what state-run or top-down religious agendas can achieve and most of these programs are usually top-down. Expectation that Muslims will follow pre-ordained sets of behaviours.
My central argument here is that it is the absence of religious studies scholars from these global and domestic Religious Reform projects that undermines their effectiveness. Lived religion, as any scholar of religion can tell you, is extraordinarily varied and mutable. Great care is needed when generalising and typologising, particularly when concerned with predicting behaviour. The religion as set out by state religious authorities or by mainstream Islamic organisations is not necessarily rigidly adhered to by grassroots Muslims, even within those organisations. Prescriptions of orthopraxy might be followed only partially. Real religious life is often messy and contradictory; there are competing traditions and interests at play. Muslims may aspire to a particular version of piety but not fulfil this.
So many on-the-ground studies have found enormous variety and behaviour that often confound the conventional categorisations of religious type. I could point to Chris Chaplin’s research on Salafis, for example. This community is seen as culturally Arabised, ultra-puritanical and a threat to Indonesia’s pluralistic traditions. But Chaplin shows significant indigenisation of their practices and considerable desire to compromise in order to expand their mainstream support and protect their educational and preaching activities. Many assume that the term Salafist denotes one single, undifferentiated entity. What is required is the close study of people and communities; what they say and write, the texts that influence them and how they communicate. This needs language skills, patience and erudition. Such skills are seldom found among quantitative social scientists or security studies experts. This is not to disparage big data approaches. They have the ability to tell us things that qualitative research cannot. But to devise policies without scholarship on religious studies, without its care for details and an eye for nuance and variegation, is to risk miscomprehension and failure. Religious studies scholars do not see faith as ‘clear cut’ and that is a sound starting point for policy formulation.
This brings me back to the work of Tony. His concern to probe the layers of meaning in a text or a statement, his priority in reading what shapes the thinking of Indonesian Muslims – this is critical. It means coming to Muslim communities not with a set of preconceived ideas or theories into which people can be sorted, but rather researching with an open mind. Literature, social media discourses, preachers’ sermons, these are what needs studying. we not assume that official Islam – that promulgated by governments or major Islamic organisations – is actually lived Islam.
Let me close on a personal note. I must confess to having considerable apprehension in accepting this invitation to talk about Tony’s scholarship and contribution because I felt that I lacked the scholarly skills to do justice to what he has achieved. I don’t speak Arabic, I’m not a scholar of the Qur’an and Islamic sciences. I study Muslim politics, its doctrines and behaviour but I am not a scholar of Islam as such. But I accepted the invitation because I am so deeply grateful for what Tony has provided to me and to so many other researchers on Southeast Asian Islam through his writings and his personal mentorship. In my case, for thirty years Tony has encouraged me and with great patience, forbearance even, he has answered my many queries. Tony never gave simple or obvious answers. He would ponder the question for a moment before responding, often plucking apposite quotes from a bewildering array of sources that seemed to be forever circulating in his mind just waiting to be presented to a questioner. These could be from the Bible or the Qur’an, from Shakespeare or Keats, or even from his favourite television satire, Yes Minister! His answers often led to more questions, which would require more research and reflection on my part. The thing about these answers was that they always opened vistas onto much broader fields of study and understanding. I have a continuing sense of marvel at how Tony does this.
Let me return to where I started, by acknowledging the combined achievements of Tony and Yohanni, and thanking them for all the care and encouragement they have provided for students like me over so many years. And for the wonderful example that they provide for us all, in their dedication to each other and to the fostering of Indonesian studies. It is most fitting that so many people have gathered here this afternoon to celebrate these two wonderful careers.
The trade in Southeast Asian box turtles from Indonesia is happening at a scale much higher than annual quotas allow, according to a new paper. It estimated that turtle collectors supply traders in one province alone with tens of thousands of individuals annually, even though their quota is meant to be hundreds.
The study’s authors have called on the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) and the Indonesian government to take action against the illegal trade.
CITES is holding its 19th Conference of the Parties (CoP19) in Panama between 14 and 25 November. The decisions that the parties, meaning nation-states, make at the meeting will impact the conservation of hundreds of species.
The study, which MDPI‘s Diversity journal published, highlights the scale of the trade in these turtles in Indonesia. It pointed out that previous reports identified a vast, unregulated trade in Southeast Asian box turtles beginning around the mid-1990s. CITES began regulating the international trade in 2000 by adding the species to its Appendix II listings. CITES lists species in three appendices, depending on how at risk they are.
Since the CITES listing, Indonesia has set annual quotas for the amount of the turtles people can harvest from the wild. Most of Indonesia’s quota – around 90% – is destined for the international market, the study said.
Trade “continues unabated”
CITES listings are supposed to ensure the international trade is conducted – and limited, where necessary – so as not to further endanger species. But in the case of the Southeast Asian box turtle, probes have found that a vast illegal trade is happening, largely in plain sight.
The Diversity study’s authors analysed trade in one of 32 provinces where the species lives to provide an illustration. Specifically, they looked into two out of five traders in Central Kalimantan. From 2019 onwards, Indonesia’s quota for the province has been 1,000 turtles, with the two traders allocated 400 of these between them. But the data suggests that collectors supply the traders with between 32,000 and 45,000 turtles a year.
Although data on supplies to the other three traders isn’t available, the authors asserted that their findings and other research shows that the illegal trade “continues unabated”.
Severely threatened
The paper also suggested that the trade, when practised legally, supports the livelihoods of very few people. The two traders would, for example, secure profits of $400 annually if they stayed within their quota. The authors’ calculations suggested that the legal turtle trade can support around only 500 people across Indonesia.
The Canary contacted the Indonesian CITES authorities and the CITES secretariat for comment. Neither responded by the time of publication.
The study questioned how the vast illegal trade endures under the watch of the relevant authorities. As the Wildlife Conservation Society’s Susan Lieberman said in relation to turtle proposals on the table at COP19, an Appendix II listing is meant to “ensure exports are legal and sustainable” for turtle species, which are “one of the most severely threatened vertebrate groups”.
In the case of Southeast Asian box turtles, this clearly doesn’t appear to be the case.
The Indonesian military has signed contracts to acquire both air defence and surface-to-surface ballistic missiles from the Turkish firm Roketsan. The contacts were executed at the recent Indo Defence Expo & Forum in Jakarta. The Czech firm Excalibur, which has a history of prior contracts with the Indonesian Ministry of Defence, is the prime contractor […]
On Oct 1st, 2022, 33 years after the Hillsborough disaster in Sheffield a stadium tragedy reoccurred. This time, one of the world’s worst stadium disasters happened in Kanjuruhan Stadium, Indonesia, with at least 125 supporters killed at a match between Arema FC and Persebaya FC. After losing the game 2-3, upset Arema supporters reportedly invaded the pitch. The authorities in Malang, East Java fired tear gas to “control” the crowd, triggering a stampede among supporters. Ironically, although supporters followed the FIFA order of flare prohibition, the authorities in Kanjuruhan armed themselves with tear gas which they shot into the mostly peaceful crowds.
This event is now the pinnacle of tragedies in Indonesia’s sporting history. On one side, “rivalry” is a distinct character of football supporters, which is marketed as a unique selling point. On the other side, do the labels “violence” and “hooliganism” portrayed by mainstream media truly reflect the rivalry of Indonesian supporters? Negative narratives, such as “violence is not uncommon” and “police hunt Aremania” (Arema supporters) who kill Bonek (Persebaya supporters), are produced by media at all levels, constructing bad representation of Indonesian football fans as offenders. Such stories place supporters as citizens’ enemy. Moreover, following the corporate media logic of “prime time”, kick-off was in the evening (at 8:00 PM). Due to the broadcasting rewards, New Indonesian League administrators rejected an afternoon kick off time suggested by the police. Supporters are indeed the targeted audience for football broadcasts, yet a sensationalising media predominantly frame them as hooligans.
Prior to the match, at a trilateral meeting between both clubs and the Football Association of Indonesia (PSSI), it was agreed that Persebaya supporters would not attend. The assumption was that “no rivalry” equated to “no violence.” The depth of this logical fallacy was illuminated as Arema supporters became the victims of bloody violence unrelated to rivalry. The possibility that the number of tickets sold exceeded the stadium capacity is also generating unanswered questions.
Manipulation of football supporters by political elites is not uncommon. Football supporters are also a voter base in regional and national level elections. Eddy Rumpoko, the 2007-2017 Mayor of Batu (a city in the greater area of Malang), for instance, established connections with Arema FC and supporters using his city budget resources. The former mayor was sentenced to prison in 2019 and punished again in 2022 because of corruption.
Most of the leaders of PSSI are closely affiliated with political parties or retired army/police commissioners, who act in unison to serve the interests of the oligarchs of Indonesia. For example, Eddy Rumpoko was one out of nine nominees in PSSI Chairman election (2016-2020). Furthermore, PSSI pointed fingers to other stakeholders, including banning Arema FC from playing matches at their home stadium and issuing fines. While the government task force highlighted the unprofessionalism of PSSI and Indonesian football league stakeholders, PSSI rejected their recommendations. The credibility of PSSI and the police is said to be falling apart at the seams, reflected in declining trust among football supporters.
The Kanjuruhan disaster shows that Arema fans, like other supporters, are victims of the commodification and politicisation of Indonesian football. The pot of supporter fanaticism is continually stirred by broadcasters and is marketed to consumers of football. The supporters are also vulnerable to a violent, corrupt, and precarious Indonesian football structure. Supporters were killed by the violence of the state, yet they are the ones who are portrayed as “rioters”. Not only victims of the structure, fans remain trapped within a conflict of interests between predatory and rapacious actors in the turbulent world of Indonesian football.
In the era of football commodification and democracy in post-reformasi Indonesia, supporters should be placed as “original fans” rather than “superficial consumers”. With the idea of mediatisation, supporters seem to play a greater role in claiming their position. Supporters need recognition, including an environment in which to express their collective identity and to articulate their role as active citizens. Starting from the mourning, the public petitioned for the rights of the Kanjuruhan victims, particularly those who were killed. Responding to this catastrophe, there were at least six petitions on change.org, from “refusing tear gas” (signed by around 50,000 people), “urging PSSI chief and management to resign” (signed by around 18,000 people) to “reformasi PSSI” (signed by around 300 people). The presence of these digital platforms facilitates the coordination and collection of signatures and signifies solidarity among oppressed supporters.
Football has increasingly become “family friendly” entertainment, consequently rights should be (re)distributed equitably. Here, safety must be the top priority. The game’s authorities should be responsive to football fans’ characteristics, including the tendency for mass gatherings and established rivalries as is exemplified in major footballing leagues around the world. Profit maximisation, including media ratings and ticket sales, must be revisited. Midday kick-off times and below capacity ticket sales are some alternatives. FIFA has advised against the use of tear gas inside stadiums. The Hillsborough disaster brought about regulatory changes for safety inside stadiums and those in control of large crowds. One of the fiercest footballing derbies in world football, Celtic and Rangers, has shifted the kick-off time from evening to midday to prevent potential violence between supporters in Glasgow.
Lastly, representation of supporters is key to reforming footballing structures in Indonesia, liberating the code from the current oligarchical system. Supporters, as active citizens, are the counter to the “violence” narrative. Instead of frequently attaching the term “hooligan” to supporters in media coverage, other roles taken by supporters as active citizens, such as anti-racism activism (hoomanity-hooligan for humanity from IG @bdgsupporteralliance) and resistance to oppression (football fans enemy from IG @makassarsupporter.collective), should be voiced, especially in everyday discourse. The idea of hoomanity shifts the image from brutal to caring hooligan, successfully inviting supporters to participate in fundraising to face the initial pandemic (e.g., distributiing hand soap and hand sanitizer) and providing aid for flood victims in the area. Their engagement shows camaraderie among supporters across Indonesia dealing with Kanjuruhan tragedy. The message reminds supporters that their enemies are not supporters of rival team. Yet, their “true enemies” are dictatorial police forces, a broken PSSI, as well as management and capital holders, that degenerate the team(s) and the essential meaning of football.
Removing and dismissing some officials, such as the police officers who fired tear gas, is not a silver bullet, as it only tackles the symptoms and not the root cause of the chaotic structure of Indonesian football. The configuration of Indonesian football is problematic, reflecting the Indonesian democracy moving from stagnation to regression. Commercialisation and politicisation of football establishes a pseudo-modern football with corrupt mismanagement. However, mediatisation provides opportunities of media manifold for football supporters as the victims to create and construct the meaning of their environment (e.g., supporter not customer from IG @bdgsupporteralliance and how poor management performance unfolded from IG @frontlineboys33). From the above stories, football fans communities construct their mediatised world, from in-person literacy, information sharing and networking on various digital platforms (e.g., WhatsApp, Twitter, Instagram, and change.org), mediated communication coverage, to performing offline activism. While supporters work to create the football culture from below, authorities ought to take major steps, including recognition, rights redistribution and representation, to create a football system from above in which it desists from slaying the golden goose through systematic violence.
Elettronica has signed a contract to equip two Indonesian Navy 90m Offshore Patrol Vessels currently under construction at PT Daya Radar Utama shipyard with its Naval Radar Electronic Counter-Measures systems and further 90m Offshore Patrol Vessels are expected to be built by Indonesian shipyards for the Navy. This is the first contract in Indonesia in […]
Thales has entered into an agreement with state-owned defence electronics specialist PT Len Industri to provide a range of C4ISR enhancements to the Indonesian Navy’s (TNI-AL’s) four Diponegoro-class guided missile corvettes, among other work announced on 4 November. The company said it will refurbish the ships with “an Integrated Missions System including the TACTICOS Combat […]
The Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force (JMSDF) hosted the latest iteration of its international fleet review (IFR) in the waters of Sagami Bay south of Tokyo on 6 November, an event which also commemorated the 70th anniversary of the service’s founding. Twenty JMSDF assets, including surface combatants and submarines, as well as 18 vessels from Australia, […]
In Indonesia, the government formally acknowledges only two genders, male and female. Transwomen (along with gay and lesbian individuals) are categorized under People with Social Welfare Problem or known as Penyandang Masalah Kesejahteraan Sosial (PMKS). This is based on four criteria, i.e., a) social functioning disorder, b) discrimination, c) marginalisation, and d) deviant social behaviour. Despite giving up on the legislative situation that discriminates against them, Surabaya transwomen who are members of Surabaya Transwomen Association (Perwakos) fight against it by engaging actively in public activity. This is story about them fighting Covid-19 together with East Java Regional Disaster Management Agency.
My engagement with Perwakos started years ago, during an HIV-AIDS campaign activity when I was still an undergraduate student. I worked with them again years later, through Circle Indonesia—a local organisation based in Yogyakarta—on a USAID-funded project that focused on scaling-up integrated interventions serving populations most-at-risk to HIV transmission in Indonesia. While working on that project, I also wrote my masters thesis about transwomen’s performativity and their space in Surabaya city.
My concern with gender diversity is founded on my long experiences working as gender specialist for development and humanitarian projects for international agencies/organisations. I face a lot of rejection when trying to raise the issue. Government officials will always refer to the abovementioned existing formal regulations on gender. Further, in daily life a recent trend in Indonesia since sees people tending to rejection everything related to LGBT issues, including trans* people. The term LGBT is indeed now notorious now in Indonesia, almost always with negative connotations. There are also a lot of persecution of non-binary people.
Specifically, regarding disaster management—an issue that I often engage with—I presented a paper about heteronormative practice of Indonesia disaster management at the 8th Asian Graduate Forum on Southeast Asia Studies at National University of Singapore in 2013. The paper addressed the work of transwomen in Yogyakarta trying to break the stigma by engaging in disaster response activity in the aftermath of the 2010 Mt. Merapi eruption.
This video is part of my efforts to raise concerns about how regulation of gender impacts non-binary individuals, and how they fight back against it.
This publication was supported by an ANU Gender Institute grant which provided funds for New Mandala and Connecting Designs to run a series of workshops supporting early career academics investigating issues of gender and sexuality in Southeast Asia to develop their audio-visual research communication skills.
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Rohde & Schwarz is showcasing its innovative portfolio of interoperable, high-performance communications and intelligence systems for deployment on land, in the air and at sea, spectrum monitoring, cyber security and counter drone solutions. At this year’s Indo Defence, taking place in Jakarta, Indonesia from 2-5 November 2022, Rohde & Schwarz showcases its full technology portfolio on booth […]
Turkey’s global land systems manufacturer Otokar, participates in Indo Defence 2022 on November 2-5, in Jakarta, Indonesia. During the exhibition, Otokar will promote its broad land systems product range, including 4×4, 6×6, 8×8 tactical wheeled armored vehicles, tracked armored vehicles and weapon systems. Pointing out that Otokar is a registered NATO and United Nations supplier […]
The chair of the Papua Customary Council (DAP), Dominggus Surabut, says the council along with a coalition of civil organisations have formed an investigation team to examine Tuesday’s death of Papuan independence leader Filep Karma.
“We have coordinated with various parties in the Papuan struggle, as well as with families and lawyers to conduct an independent investigation into the death of Papuan leader Filep Karma,” he told Jubi.
Surabut said Filep Karma’s death could not be minimised or based only on external examination and family statements.
He said Filep Karma’s daughter Andrefina Karma spoke about her father’s death in a state of grief. The official version is that he died in a diving accident.
“We need a more serious investigation to find out why and how he died. After that we will convey to the public who are still unsure of the cause of death of their leader,” he said.
Chair of the Papuan Customary Council Dominikus Surabut speaking to reporters in Jayapura. Image: Hengky Yeimo/Jubi
An activist of the West Papua National Committee (KNPB), Ogram Wanimbo, said the authorities must reveal to the public a complete chronology of Filep Karma’s death.
Dissatisfied with post-mortem
“We are very dissatisfied with the post-mortem results. We need an explanation of who went to the beach with him and what exactly happened,” he said.
The spokesperson for the Papuan People’s Petition, Jefri Wenda, said the same.
“We are asking for a more detailed explanation,” he said.
“Filep Karma is the leader of the West Papuan nation from the Biak tribe. He was no ordinary person.
“We ask that all parties respect his struggle.”
Karma was buried at the Expo Public Cemetery in Jayapura city on Wednesday. The funeral of the Bloody Biak survivor was attended by thousands of mourners who came from Jayapura city, Jayapura regency and surrounding areas.
Filep Karma left home to go diving on Sunday and was found dead at Base G Beach on Tuesday morning. He allegedly died from a diving accident.
Thousands attend funeral
Thousands of people attended Filep Karma’s funeral.
Church leaders, traditional leaders, and activists escorted the body to his resting place. The funeral process was also closely guarded by the police.
Filep Karma’s coffin was covered in a Morning Star independence flag.
During the funeral procession, six Morning Star flags were raised. The Morning Star that covered the coffin was then handed over to the family.
“Filep Karma taught us about everything. We leave the flag to the family as a symbol that the struggle continues to live,” said Eneko Pahabol, while handing the flag over to Karma’s children, Fina Karma, Audrin Karma and Since Karma.
On behalf of the family, Since Karma said: “Thank you very much for your love. We are grateful to have Mr Filep. He taught us to be brave.
“Filep Karma didn’t want us to live in fear. Let’s stay brave. He’s gone but his spirit hasn’t left. The spirit lives in us.”
The Morning Star flag is banned by Indonesian authorities and raising it carries a jail sentence of up to 15 years.
The COVID-19 pandemic exposed the fragility of Indonesia’s health systems, including delivery of essential health services in the primary care setting. The pandemic also revealed existing health and social inequities in Indonesia, with highly uneven effects and experiences across locations and services. Like in many other middle-income countries with fragile health and primary care services, in Indonesia the pa.demic placed an immense burden on health systems, particularly community-based health programs and the delivery of essential health services in primary care settings. For example, the social restrictions designed to contain the pandemic have negatively influenced the uptake of antenatal care visits, self-management programs for patients with chronic illnesses, and other community empowerment activities.
This seminar will discuss lessons learned from the COVID-19 pandemic in order to improve and strengthen primary health care in Indonesia. Understanding the impacts of the pandemic on the uptake of essential health services in primary care settings, including barriers and enablers, is critical to ensure continuity of care, to reduce the burden of preventable diseases and to decrease utilisation of health resources and hospitalisation rates. This panel discussion brings together experts from the USA, Australia, and Indonesia, to share knowledge and best practices when it comes to collecting and documenting the effects of the pandemic on sustainability of access to essential health services. Such comparative data are crucial for health leaders and policymakers to identify and prioritise actions, strategies, and health resources, that can strengthen essential health services in primary care in Indonesia. The seminar will also discuss reform strategies to ensure better access and uptake of essential health services, and to prepare better systems for future pandemics or public health emergencies.
Convenor:
Dr I Nyoman Sutarsa is a Senior Lecturer in Population Health, Medical School at The Australian National University and a member of the ANU Indonesia Institute’s advisory board, and a Lecturer and Researcher in the Department of Public Health and Preventative Medicine, Faculty of Medicine, Udayana University
Speakers:
I Md Ady Wirawan, MD, MPH, Ph.D (Ady) is a family medicine physician and professor at the Department of Public Health and Preventive Medicine, Faculty of Medicine, Udayana University, Bali, Indonesia. He is currently the Vice Dean for Student, Information, and Cooperation Affairs at the Faculty of Medicine, Udayana University. His areas of interest in research include occupational health, travel medicine, global health, and primary care. He led the development of the Integrated Travel Health Surveillance and Information System at Destinations (TravHeSID), and also Indonesia Travel Health Network (InaTravNet).
The COVID-19 pandemic has exposed the fragility of healthcare systems in Indonesia, including service delivery of essential health services at the primary care settings. In this talk I describe the challenges for the healthcare system in Indonesia during pandemic, disruption of essential health service provisions, strategies for adaptation used to strengthen essential services, and future recommendation for Indonesia.
Professor Christine Phillips is a general practitioner, Head of Social Foundations of Medicine at the Australian National University, and Associate Dean for Health Social Science. She is a co-founder of the Refugee Health Network of Australia and a member of the Migrant and Refugee Health Partnership national peak body. In 2021, she led the development of the WHO Global Competency Framework for Health workers working with Migrants and Refugees. She is the Medical Director of Companion House Refugee Health Service in the ACT. Through the COVID-19 pandemic has provided intensive support for primary care service delivery for marginalized populations.
The COVID-19 pandemic in Australia was delayed through border closures and an initial public health focus on elimination. In this talk I describe the impacts of lockdowns on social cohesion, mental health and primary health care delivery. The COVID-19 pandemic highlighted fragilities in aged care and challenges in whole-of-community collaboration for both elimination and mitigation strategies. Primary care was emphasized in policy as a way of driving social cohesion and community-based care. This response will be compared and contrasted with Australia’s health response to the HIV epidemic in the late twentieth century.
Shailendra (Shailey) Prasad, MD MPH FAAFP is the Associate Vice President for Global and Rural Health at the University of Minnesota. He is the Carlson Chair of Global Health and the Executive Director of the Center for Global Health and Social Responsibility at the University of Minnesota, Professor and Vice-Chair of Education at the Dept of Family Medicine and Community Health and an Adjunct Professor at the School of Public Health at the University of Minnesota. He is the co-lead of the CDC funded National Resource Center for Refugees, Immigrants and Migrants and the NIH/Fogarty funded Northern Pacific Global Health consortium. He is also a founding member and part of the leadership team of Advocacy for Global Health Partnerships. He is actively involved in the growth of academic primary care and global health research training across various parts of the world as part of Family Medicine Global Education Network (FamMed GEN).
The COVID19 pandemic created unprecedented challenges to the health care systems around the world. Dr. Prasad will review the affect it had on healthcare systems in the US, particularly around healthcare workforce and medical education. He will review the role of primary care/Family Medicine in this and the need to changes in Family Medicine Education in the future.
Harsono said Karma often encountered problems at sea.
He said that on the day of his death he was with two relatives and they were swimming together. The relatives went home as Karma wanted to fish alone, which Harsono said was dangerous for a diver.
Suspicions mount However, some Papuan activists want a full investigation into the death.
West Papua National Committee (KNPB) activist Ogram Wanimbo, said the complete chronology of Filep Karma’s death must be revealed transparently to the public.
Wanimbo said they were dissatisfied with the post-mortem results.
“We need an explanation of who went to the beach with him and what exactly happened,” he said.
Papuan People’s Petition spokesperson Jefri Wenda also asked for a more detailed explanation.
The chairman of the Papua Customary Council, Dominikus Surabut, said his party also did not fully believe that Filep Karma’s death was purely an accident.
“The family said it was a pure accident but until now, I don’t believe it. Let there be an investigation into it,” Surabut said.
Indonesian human rights lawyer Veronica Koman said: “There were too many strange circumstances around his death and questioning police’s influence on the family. We are not accepting this as an accident.”
Indonesian human rights lawyer Veronica Koman . . .”too many strange circumstances around his death”. Image: ANU
This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.
A tragic day of mourning. Thousands thronged the West Papuan funeral cortège today and tonight as the banned Morning Star led the way in defiance of the Indonesian military.
There haven’t been so many Papuan flags flying under the noses of the security forces since the 2019 Papuan Uprising.
Filep Jacob Semuel Karma, 63, the “father” of the Papuan nation, was believed to be the one leader who could pull together the splintered factions seeking self-determination and independence.
It is still shocking a day after his lifeless body in a wetsuit was found on a Jayapura beach.
Police and Filep Karma’s family say they had no reason to believe that his death resulted from foul play, report Jubi editor Victor Mambor in Jayapura and Nazarudin Latif from Jakarta for Benar News.
“I followed the post-mortem process and it was determined that my father died from drowning while diving,” Karma’s daughter, Andrefina Karma, told reporters.
But many human rights advocates and researchers aren’t so convinced.
Speculation on reasons
Some are speculating about the reasons why peaceful former political prisoner Filep Karma was perceived to be an obstruction for Jakarta’s “development” plans for the Melanesian provinces.
“There were too many strange circumstances around his death and questioning police’s influence on the family. We are not accepting this as an accident,” declared Indonesian human rights Veronica Koman in a tweet.
Human rights lawyers for West Papua are solid that there were too many strange circumstances around his death and questioning police’s influence on the family. We are not accepting this as an accident. https://t.co/bfOcMvNpha
Tributes pour in
Tributes have poured in from many of his friends, colleagues and fellow activists across Indonesia and the Pacific.
Indonesia researcher Andreas Harsono of Human Rights Watch wrote: “Filep Karma’s humour, integrity, and moral courage was an inspiration to many people. His death is a huge loss, not only for Papuans, but for many people across Indonesia and the Pacific who have lost a human rights hero.”
The Diplomat’s Southeast Asia editor Sebastian Strangio wrote: “Karma trod a path that avoided the extremes of violent rebellion and acquiescence to what many Papuans view as essentially foreign rule.
“Whether this approach ever would have achieved Karma’s long-held goal of independence and autonomy for the Papuan people is unclear, but his passing will clearly leave a large vacuum.”
He was a former civil servant who, dismayed at how many Indonesian state officials treated West Papuans, spurned a good salary to dedicate his life to West Papua.
Although standing for “justice, democracy, peace and non-violent resistance, he was jailed for 11 years for raising the Morning Star flag.
One of the most comprehensive tributes to Karma was offered by Benny Wenda, leader of the United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP), saying that the day was a “national day of mourning for the West Papuan people — all of us, whether in the bush, in the cities, in the refugee camps, or in exile”.
‘Great leader’
“Filep Karma was a great leader and a great man,” says Wenda.
“Across his life, he held many roles and won many accolades — he was a ULMWP Minister for Indonesian and Asian affairs, a Nobel Peace Prize nominee, and the longest serving peace advocate in an Indonesian jail.
In “Loving memory” for Filep Karma . . . “For West Papuans, Filep was equivalent to Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King.” Image: Free West Papua Campaign
“But he was first of all a frontline leader, present at every single protest, reassuring and inspiring all West Papuans who marched or prayed with him.
“Filep was there at the Biak Massacre in 1998, when 200 Papuans, many of them children, were murdered by the Indonesian military. Despite being shot several times in the leg that day, his experience of Indonesian brutality never daunted him.
“He continued to lead the struggle for liberation, whether in prison or in the streets.
“For West Papuans, Filep was equivalent to Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King.
“The history of our struggle lived within him.”
‘How did he die?’
Now Benny Wenda says: “The big question is this: how did Filep die?” (He reportedly died while surfing despite being a skilled diver.)
“Indonesia systematically eliminates West Papuans who fight against their occupation. Sometimes they will kill us in public, like Theys Eluay and Arnold Ap, who was murdered and his body dumped on the same beach Filep died on.”
But Wenda adds, it is more common for West Papuans to “die in mysterious ways” or face character assassination, as in the case of Papua Governor Lukas Ensemble.
Filip Karma was a courageous and inspirational man of peace.
However, tonight at the funeral procession in Jayapura, many have been singing:
Many organisations, NGOs, churches and student leaders have called on the Indonesian government in Jakarta to consider Papua Governor Lukas Enembe’s health problems with kindness.
The student organisations that have appealed to President Joko Widodo and the chair of the anti-corruption agency KPK include the International Alliance of Papuan Students Associations Overseas (IAPSAO), which has an affiliate in Aotearoa New Zealand.
The letter sent to President Jokowi and the KPK stressed the universal human rights of Governor Enembe over his poor health. He has been governor since 2013.
Governor Enembe, 55, has been accused of corruption in what is widely seen as a politically motivated case given his position in Indonesia’s centrist Democratic Party with a general election due early in 2024.
The allegations against him have spread to Australia, but his lawyers have dismissed all accusations.
According to the public broadcaster ABC in Australia, the authorities have said “the total amount under investigation was in the ‘trillions of rupiah’, or hundreds of millions of dollars”.
The governor’s lawyers said he had a swollen leg and general poor health due to diabetes and a series of strokes. In recent years he had had heart and pancreatic surgery.
Risk of ‘political instability’
In the letter, signed by the presidents of the Papuan Student Association in the USA-Canada, Germany, Russia, Japan and Oceania, was a plea that the central government ought to consider the risk of “political instability” in the province due to Governor Enembe’s deteriorating health.
Although the governor is unable to be physically present in the office, government services in Papua province are running normally.
While going through medical treatment from home, Governor Enembe encouraged all civil servants in the province to “deliver their responsibility with full commitment”.
Since he has been banned from travelling for medical treatment overseas, Governor Enembe has been examined twice at his home in Jayapura by medical teams from Mount Elizabeth Hospital in Singapore.
The team, comprising several expert doctors and nurses, was brought in from Singapore for the first visit because the governor had been forbidden to seek treatment abroad.
Dr Anton Mote, the governor’s personal doctor who led the first examination, named the team as Cheng Ho Patrick (a cardiologist), Mariana Binti Ayob and Snooky Tabiliras Lagas (a nurse). The examination was conducted on October 11.
According to Dr Mote, Governor Enembe needed to get treatment in Singapore
Jakarta unresponsive Tabloid Jubi reports that prior to and after the first examination, Governor Enembe’s family and lawyers had asked the central government of Indonesia to consider his health by allowing him to get treatment in Singapore. However, Jakarta had not responded.
“That’s the reason we brought in a doctor from Singapore because [Governor Enembe] must continue to receive continuous medical care,” said Dr Mote.
Meanwhile, the Papua Times reports that KPK had a coordinating meeting about the case involving Governor Enembe on October 24.
This led to a decision to send a team of medical doctors from the KPK and the Indonesian Medical Association (IDI) to examine Governor Enembe.
Laurens Ikinia is a West Papuan postgraduate communication studies student at AUT University.
His daughter said he had died because of a tragic “accident and drowning”.
I had met Karma in 2008 when I visited a Jayapura prison to interview political inmates.
Karma was clearly the leader that the other prisoners looked to for inspiration. He articulated his principles for the human rights and self-determination of the Papuan people.
We quickly became friends, discussing and debating the human rights situation in Papua.
Educated about mistreatment
Filep Karma was born in 1959 in Jayapura, the capital of Indonesia’s Papua province. Karma told me his father educated him about the mistreatment of Indigenous Papuans under Indonesian rule.
In 1998, Karma organised a protest on Biak Island, calling for independence for Papua while raising the Morning Star flag, a symbol of independence banned by Indonesia’s government.
Indonesian military forces violently broke up the protest. Karma was imprisoned, then released in 1999.
In 2004, he organised another Morning Star protest following the killing of Theys Eluai, another pro-independence leader. The authorities tried and sentenced Karma to 15 years in prison for “treason”.
In 2010, Human Rights Watch published a report on political prisoners in Papua and the Moluccas Islands, launching a global campaign to release the prisoners.
Karma’s detention a ‘violation’
In 2011, Karma’s mother, Eklefina Noriwari, petitioned the United Nations Working Group on Arbitrary Detention for Karma’s release. The working group determined Karma’s detention had violated international law, and called on the Indonesian government to release him.
Filep Karma’s coffin and mourners. Image: ULMWP
The authorities only released Karma in 2015.
After his release, Karma embraced a wider agenda of political activism. He spoke about human rights and environmental protection. He campaigned for the rights of minorities. He organised help for political prisoners’ families.
Karma’s humour, integrity, and moral courage was an inspiration to many people. His death is a huge loss, not only for Papuans, but for many people across Indonesia and the Pacific who have lost a human rights hero.
Andreas Harsono is the Indonesia researcher for Human Rights Watch where this article was first published. Republished with the author’s permission.
The F-15EX features next-generation technologies and is best-in-class in terms of payload, range and speed. Boeing display to also include CH-47 Chinook, ScanEagle Integrator, AH-64 Apache, AEW&C, P-8 and lifecycle support. Boeing will be showcasing its advanced capabilities to regional customers at the Indo Defence 2022 show including the latest and most advanced version of […]
“At that time he ate only rice, without side dishes, or with vegetables but in small portions. Otherwise, his stomach hurt or he would become nauseated. His bowel movements were bloody,” Dogopia said.
Hilapok and seven friends, all aged between 18 and 29, were arrested by police on December 1, 2021, when they marched in front of the Papua police headquarters carrying Morning Star flags and banners.
The flag is considered a symbol of the West Papua struggle for independence and has been strictly banned by the Indonesian authorities with jail sentences of up to 15 years for offenders.
The treason case against Zode Hilapok was never tried because he was ill.
He died at Yowari Hospital on October 22.
In August, the other seven were found guilty of treason and sentenced to 10 months in prison from the day they were detained.
They were released in September.
Hilapok’s death comes after a West Papuan leader, Buchtar Tabuni, was arrested by Indonesian police.
The banned West Papua Morning Star flag . . . iconic symbol of resistance flown globally in protests in support of self-determination and independence. Image: RNZ Pacific/AFP
Indonesian police have arrested Buchtar Tabuni, one of West Papua’s most important liberation leaders, along with three other United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP) ministers, reports the movement in a statement.
“Indonesia are once again suppressing freedom of expression and assembly in West Papua, in an attempt to crush our spirit and commitment to our struggle,” said interim president Benny Wenda.
Buchtar Tabuni is chair of the West Papua Council, and a member of the ULMWP Council Committee. His arrest was confirmed by police.
He was arrested with Bazoka Logo, Minister of Political Affairs, and Iche Murib, Minister of Women’s and Children’s Affairs, said the statement.
The trio were arrested at Tabuni’s house in Jayapura, following an annual ULMWP meeting, and interrogated at a nearby police station.
“What is their crime? What possible justification can there be for this crackdown? This was after a peaceful meeting at a private residence,” the statement said.
“The right to assembly is a basic human right, enshrined in the constitutions of countries around the world, including Indonesia.”
Buchtar Tabuni . . . arrested outside his Jayapura home after a peaceful meeting. Image: ULMWP
Sharing information
The National Parliament of the ULMWP meets annually to share information on events in their regions and discuss the situation of the struggle.
“West Papuans have the right, under international law, to peacefully mobilise for our independence,” Wenda said.
He called on anybody concerned by the arrests to to express their disgust to the Jayapura police chief.
Wenda said the arrests were in breach of basic principles of international diplomacy and human rights.
“We sit around the table together as equals. Imagine if British police arrested a Scottish parliamentarian following a peaceful meeting in their own home — there would be international outcry.
“This is the brutal reality of Indonesia’s colonial occupation.”
Tabuni targeted
The statement said this was not the first time Tabuni had been targeted by the Indonesian state.
Tabuni has spent much of his life behind bars, and was previously arrested and charged with treason for his involvement in anti-racism protests in 2020.
“This is political persecution: the harshness of Buchtar’s treatment is due only to his position as a respected leader of the independence struggle,” said Wenda.
“History tells us that there is no such thing as a fair trial for West Papuans in Indonesia. Victor Yeimo is still gravely ill in prison, where he has been held on spurious treason charges since May 2021.
“We urgently need the assistance of all international solidarity groups and NGOs — you must pressure your governments to help secure Mr Tabuni’s release, and all other West Papuan political prisoners.
Wenda said that the ULMWP demanded that Indonesia immediately release him with Bazoka Logo and Iche Murib.
Freedom ‘essential’
“Their freedom is essential in order to keep the peace,” he said.
According to Tabloid Jubi, Jayapura City police chief Senior Commander Victor D. Mackbon had confirmed that his office had arrested Buchtar Tabuni.
He said Tabuni was arrested to “clarify the activities” held at his home.
“Buchtar Tabuni’s arrival is to clarify his community gathering activities,” said Commander Mackbon.
Strong arm tactics by Indonesian police at a peaceful Jayapura home meeting. Image: ULMWP
The sudden death of activist Leonie Tanggahma has shaken Papuan communities. Her loss last week has shocked West Papuans who regarded her as one of those who had stood strong for decades advocating independence for the Indonesian-ruled region.
She had lived for decades in the Netherlands among hundreds of exiled Papuans who had left West Papua after Indonesia annexed the territory 60 years ago. She died at the age of 48 on 7 October 2022.
Papuans continue to express messages of condolence and tribute on social media.
“Sister Leonie passed away due to a severe heart attack,” said Yan Ch Warinussy, a Papuan lawyer and human rights activist and director of the Legal Aid, Research, Investigation and Development Institute (LP3BH), reports Suarapapua.com.
A prominent young Papuan independence activist and West Papua diplomat of the Asia-Pacific region Ronny Kareni, wrote on his Facebook page:
“Sincere and heartfelt condolences for the sad loss of West Papua Woman Leader Leonie Tanggahma. Leonie Tanggahma is the daughter of the late Bernard Tanggahma, Minister for Foreign Affairs in the exile of the Republic of West Papua, which was unilaterally proclaimed by the Free Papua Movement (OPM) in the seventies.
“She was a liaison officer for the Papuan-based human rights NGO ELSHAM in Europe, for which she provided among others, the regular representation of the Papuan cause at United Nations forums, such as the working group on Indigenous populations, the Commission on Human Rights (now Human Rights Council) and its sub-commission.
“In July 2011, the Papua Peace Network (JDP) appointed her, along with four other Papuans living in exile, as a negotiator in the event that the Indonesian Government implements its apparent willingness to hold dialogue with Papuans.
“Following the need for a united political front in a regional and international forum in December 2014, she was appointed as the ULMWP executive member, along with four others to spearhead the national movement abroad, which she served diligently for three years.
“On a personal note, in October 2013 sister Leonie reached out upon receiving information of a political asylum mission that brother Airi and I undertook for 13 prominent Papuan activists who had fled across to PNG.
“She fully supported me in terms of advocating behind the scenes to make sure activists were given support and protection, prior to the UN refugee office closure in December of the same year.
“She followed and listened to The Voice of West Papua despite the time difference and often gave feedback on the radio program. She even shared strong support of the cultural and musical work through Rize of the Morning Star and engaged with the Merdeka West Papua Support Network, where she often sat through countless online discussions during the global pandemic.
“A memory that I will share with many Papuan youths is the screenshot [partially reproduced above], taken on the 18th of September 2022. It demonstrates sister Leonie’s commitment to strengthening capacity of the movement and how much she enjoyed listening and being present for ‘Para Para Diskusi’.
“We will miss you in our weekly discussion, sister Leonie. Condolences to family and loved ones. May her soul rest in peace.”
An interview last year with Leonie Tanggahma. Video: Youngsolwara Pacific
A legacy hard to forget
Jeffrey Bomanak, a Papuan figure from Markas Victoria, the historic headquarters of the Free Papua Movement (OPM), wrote:
“On Friday, October 7, 2022, Mrs Leonie Tanggahma had a sudden heart attack and went to the hospital to seek help. She did not have time to seek assistance from a local doctor and was forced to leave her service in the Struggle of the Papuan Nation at exactly 10:00am, Netherlands time.
“Mr Bomanak said, the sacrifice, discipline, and loyalty she showed in Papua’s struggle is a legacy that is hard to forget for OPM TPNPB on this day and all the days to come”.
Octovianus Mote, a US-based Papuan independence figure who worked closely with Tanggahma, paid tribute to her as follows:
“Sister, we are saddened by your sudden passing at such a young age, as was your father. As believers, we believe that all this destruction appeals to you in heaven, and we will be praying there along with other Papuan warriors who have already gone ahead. We accept death as only a means of continuing a new life since life is eternal and only changes its form. Goodbye, Sister Leonie. We did it, my sister. We did it.”
“Hearing of the news of the passing of Mrs Tanggahma is like being struck by lightning, the Papuan nation lost a woman who cared about the struggles and rights of the West Papuan people. Papuans and activists in Papua feel bereaved by this news.”
Born into the heart of West Papuan struggle Veronica Koman, the well-known Indonesian human rights activist and lawyer who advocates for the rights of Indigenous Papuans, wrote on her Facebook:
“Rest In Peace Leonie Tanggahma. “Sister Leonie and I first met in Geneva, Switzerland, in 2017. I was astonished by her demeanour — intelligent, articulate, friendly, assertive, authoritative but not arrogant. She was one of the pioneers of the international human rights movement for West Papua. Sister Leonie is not only one of the greatest Papuan women but one of the greatest Papuans as well. It sometimes occurs to me that if society and movements were not sexist (meaning that men and women have equal value) how far would Kaka Leonie have succeeded? The people of West Papua have lost one of their brightest stars.”
Benny Wenda, the West Papuan independence icon paid tribute with the following words:
“Leonie Tanggahma was born into the heart of the West Papuan struggle. She was the daughter of Bernard Tanggahma, Minister for Foreign Affairs in exile of the Republic of West Papua which was unilaterally proclaimed by the Free Papua Movement (OPM) in the seventies. Leonie carried on her father’s legacy by working for the Papuan human rights body ELSHAM and representing her people’s cause at various United Nations forums. Later, she became an ULMWP executive member. In this role she was a dedicated servant of the West Papuan independence movement, helping to lead the struggle abroad.”
She was a member of a team of five representatives of the Papuan independence struggle (Jacob Rumbiak, Leonie Tanggahma, Octovianus Mote, Benny Wenda and Rex Rumakiek) elected in Jayapura in 2011 to promote a peaceful dialogue aimed at resolving the Indonesian conflict and Papuan independence.
Daughter of first West Papua ambassador to Senegal According to Rex Rumakiek, one of the last surviving OPM leaders from Tanggahma’s father’s generation, who grew up and fought for West Papua’s independence:
Leonie Tanggahma was the second daughter of the late Ben Tanggahma and Sofie Komber. She had an older sister named Mbiko Tanggahma. Nicholas Tanggahma (brother of Leonie’s father) was a member of the New Guinea Council, formed with Dutch help to safeguard the new fledgling state of Papua.
In the early 1960s, Leonie Tanggahma’s father was sent to study in the Netherlands so that he would be trained and equipped to lead a newly emerging nation state. However, Ben Tanggahma did not return to West Papua and settled there and worked at the Post Office in The Hague, Netherlands. Her father finally stopped working in the Post Office and participated in the West Papua struggle with the political figures of that time, including Markus Kaisiepo and Womsiwor.
Rumaiek said Leonie Tanggahma’s father was the first West Papuan diplomat (ambassador level). He was the one who opened the first West Papuan foreign embassy in Senegal, Africa.
The President of Senegal at that time (1980s) was Léopold Sédar Senghor, a Catholic, as was Ben Tanggahma. Having this religious connection enabled both to develop a special relationship, which allowed West Papua to open an international office in Africa and allowed many African countries to support West Papua’s liberation efforts.
Ben Tanggahma was sent to Senegal as an ambassador by the Revolutionary Provisional Government of West Papua New Guinea (RPG), which received official fiscal and material support from African countries and stood behind Senegal. During that time, the government of Senegal provided Ben Tanggahma with a car, a building, and other resources as well as moral support.
These enabled him to lobby African countries for West Papua’s cause of self-determination.
Rumaiek said he got to know Leonie in 2011, when Benny Wenda, Octovianus Mote, Leonie and he were elected to lead peace dialogue teams in an attempt to resolve West Papua’s tragedies. No results were obtained from this effort.
Leonie Tanggahma was, according to Rex Rumakiek, a well-educated young West Papuan woman who carried her father’s legacy and came from a family who played a significant role in the liberation movement of the Papuan people.
Nicholas Tanggahma and West Papua political Manifesto 1961
Nicholas Tanggahma, brother of Leonie’s father (Ben Tanggahma), was a member of the Dutch New Guinea Council (Nieuw-Guinea Raad), which was installed on 5 April 1961 as the first step towards West Papua’s independence. As soon as the council was formed, Nicholas Tanggahma and his colleague realised that things were about to change dramatically against their newly imagined independent state.
After a few weeks, on 19 October 1961, Ben Tanggahma called a meeting at which 17 people were elected to form a national committee. The committee immediately issued the famous West Papua political manifesto, which requested of the Dutch:
“our [Morning Star] flag be hoisted beside the Netherlands flag;
“our national anthem (“Hai Tanahku Papua”) be sung and played alongside the Dutch national anthem;
“our country be referred to as Papua Barat (West Papua); and
“our people be called the Papuan people.”
Two months later, on 1 December 1961, the new state of West Papua was born, which Papuans around the world celebrate as their National Day.
Leonie Tanggahma died in the same month her uncle had first sown the seed for the new nation West Papua 60 years ago. This deep historical root of her family’s involvement in the struggle for a free and independent West Papua shocked people.
The following are excerpts from a lengthy series of interviews Leonie’s father, Ben Tanggahma had in Dakar, Senegal on February 16 1976. Tanggahma is famous for providing the following answer when asked about the connection between Black Oceania and Africa:
“Africa is our motherland. All the Black populations which settled in Asia over the hundreds of thousands of years came undoubtedly from the African continent. In fact, the entire world was populated from Africa. Hence, we the Blacks in Asia and the Pacific today descend from proto-African peoples. We were linked to Africa in the Past. We are linked to Africa in the future. We are what you might call the Black Asian Diaspora.”
Mbiko Tanggahma, older sister of Leonie Tanggahma, wrote on her Facebook:
“It is true that my little sister, Leonie Tanggahma, passed away on the 7th of October 2022. Although her departure was premature and unexpected, it gives us comfort to know that she was not in pain and that she passed away peacefully. Until her last moments, she continued to do what she loved. She continued to be her determined and fierce self. She fought for just causes, surrounded by her family, friends, activists, and loved ones.”
Leonie’s family in The Netherlands has provided this donation link. (Cite “Leoni” and your full name and e-mail or home address).
Raids by Australian security forces (ASIO) and armed police on Indonesian migrant households in October 2002 were truly shocking for members of this community. Australia has a small but growing Muslim diaspora (augmented as a faith group by a growing number of Australian–born converts), totalling about 340,000 at the time of the 2006 Australian census, and about one quarter of the 50,000+ Indonesian-born residents recorded in the 2006 census are recorded as of Muslim faith.
Muslim migration only grew after a shift away from migration policy that the restricted non-white immigration (The White Australia policy) in the 1970s and an embrace of multiculturalism rather than assimilation as policy. This change appeared to herald tolerance of cultural and religious diversity, and was experienced by many immigrant Australians in this way.
But the global war on terror that led to moral panic, positioning Muslims as the enemy of western civilisation, especially following the destruction of the Twin Towers, tested this. The limits of tolerance of for Australian Muslims was revealed during the first Gulf war, when the most commonly reported act of violence against Muslims was tearing off women’s head scarves—an act anthropologist Ghassan Hage has termed the “governmental hand”.
The image of a civilisation under attack had special resonance for Australians when on 12 October 2002, members of the Indonesian Islamic organisation Jemaah Islamiyah bombed two popular tourist venues in Bali, regarded by many Australians as their own backyard playground. Australian casualties were the highest among foreign tourists, about equal to Indonesian numbers, and the event was officially declared Australia’s worst peacetime disaster. This atmosphere and feelings of “a civilisation under attack” provided the context for the October 2002 raids.
The Australian media reported that the raids were conducted because of an ostensible hostile act against the Australian nation: the people targeted had attended a lecture by Abu Bakar Bashir (jailed for his role in the bombings and released in 2006) regarded as the spiritual head of JI, when he had visited Australia under an alias in the 1990s. The raids followed quickly on the Federal Government’s proscription of JI as an illegal organisation in Australia on 27 October 2002, the very day the governor general signed it into law.
The speedy timing of raids were a shocking revelation that Indonesian Muslims in Australia (citizens and permanent residents) had already been under surveillance prior to the Bali bombing. Islamic religion and Indonesian cultural citizenship made them “not quite” Australian, sorely testing the image of Australian tolerance and commitment to multiculturalism.
Response to the raids in Australia—Muslims as the enemy within
The media accounts of the October 2002 raids presented a spectre rarely seen in Australia: “Armed ASIO agents and Federal Police fan out across Australia in search of links to Islamic extremism”; “Officers wearing balaclava and bullet proof vests” holding sub-machine guns (Australian Broadcasting Corporation “ASIO raid in Perth”, PM, 30 October 2002.)
They reported police using sledgehammers to break down doors and windows and “smash…their way into houses” at dawn. In the case of the Suparta family in Perth, heavily armed officers broke into their home in Thornlie (a suburb popular with Perth’s Asian migrant populations) and the parents and four children (aged 17, 10, 6 and 4) were ordered to the floor and kept there for half an hour. The oldest child, a 17-year-old girl, said officers pointed guns at them, and one officer put his foot on her father’s head and told him not to move.
After a seven-hour search, officers took away passports, books (including religious books), material downloaded from the internet, computers, and videos. Such actions were repeated in about 12 more homes of Indonesian Australians in Sydney, Melbourne and Perth. According to a Muslim leader (Yasser Solimi, president of Islamic council of Victoria) the ASIO and police raids had left people “confused, scared and stunned” (cited in The Age, 3November, 2002.)
Neighbours interviewed by the press expressed shock. In Perth, neighbour Helena Joyce told ABC radio (Australian Broadcasting Corporation ‘ASIO raid in Perth’, PM, 30 October): “..And I saw several men in, I guess combat or whatever the SWAT people wear, you know, the black helmets, the black balaclava, the ski glasses, the black clothing, some machine guns. So I was terrified.”
The reporter David Weber asked: “Do you know the family well?” and expressing a view apparently at odds with the official “othering”, the neighbour replied: “Yes I do, Yep, we’ve lived here for almost three years and they’ve been here since before we came here. Um, they’re Australian citizens like everyone else, I guess and they’re a very nice family. All I could think of is they’ve got the satellite dish and they are originally from Indonesia?”
Another neighbour commented: “They do their yard. I always walk by to go to the Thornleigh shopping centre and their appearance to me is a very quiet, nice family, and that’s all I know…” When the reporter asks if he “would be surprised if you knew that…” the man cuts him off, replying: “Very surprised. Very, very surprised. Very quiet, nice man out in the front doing the yard. He says hello. They are ethnic people but they’re lovely, very nice people.”.
The neighbours’ comments, that the Suparta family are a “nice family, who do their yard and say hello” indicates a “grass roots” vernacular multiculturalism in that they are judged by their performance of the quotidian attributes of Australian belonging.
The Director General of ASIO (Australian Security and Intelligence Organisation) denied the report that the people raided were suspect because they had attended lectures by the JI spiritual leader in the 1990s; but one of the men raided, Jaya Fadli Basil said to the media that the paperwork he had been shown indicated that they were investigating anyone with JI links. He said that he had always done the right thing, had no terrorist links and the only reason he was raided is that he had been interested in the religious lectures of Abu Bakar Bashir in the 1990s. Jaya Fadli Basil said he now felt he was not welcome in Australia “since the Bali bombing, a lot of our community got abuse”.
According to one newspaper, all of the dozen people aided had some link to the JI leader during his Australian visit: one had driven him around, another had invited him to lunch after a lecture at the Dee Why Mosque. One of the men raided said he had been interviewed by ASIO previously as he knew Mamdouh Habib, at that time detained in Guantanamo Bay. Habib was, he said, as the father of one of his son’s school friends. He had also attended the Abu Bakar Bashir lectures “I only went to hear him speak. That is all I did. I have never heard of Jemaah Islamiah” (reported in Sun Herald, 3 November).
For Australians concerned with civil rights the raids—and the legislation that enabled them—signalled a diminution of civil rights. The president of the NSW Council on Civil Liberties was quoted: “If these people are supposed to be terrorists they should be charged and brought before a court of law. The fact that there have been so many raids and that none have been charged suggests that there is no evidence. It suggests that this is a fishing exercise or a publicity stunt.” (reported in The Age, November 1, 2002).
The Chairman of the Islamic Council of NSW made a similar comment and linked the raids to the conditions in the undemocratic regimes that migrant refugees had fled: “We are not opposed to any Australian resident being required to assist ASIO or other government agencies in defending Australia at any time. But this must be achieved within the rule of law and using no more force than necessary to secure the required outcome. I believe the raids have not been appropriate or reasonable responses to any threats stated to date. Young families have been overwhelmed by the force and violence of the raids. Many Muslims fled war, bloodshed and violence to build a secure life here. To stop that chaos erupting on our shores must be the priority and we will work with whoever asks us to keep Australia safe. However, for the authorities to storm into our homes and lives in this fashion brings those traumas and fears into our living rooms.”
It was reported in 2003 that no one was ever charged as a consequence of the raids
The Indonesian ambassador at the time, Imron Cotan, leapt to the defence of the households who had been raided even though many of them were no longer Indonesian citizens. In an exchange with the host of a TV current affairs programme he said: “We are deeply concerned about the way the ASIO as well as Federal Police, conducted the operations because that concerned Indonesian citizens…We are here to protect our citizens.”
In response the host, Tony Jones, pointed out that both Indonesian and Australian citizens had been targetted in the raids, and treated in the same way; Ambassador Cotan stressed again that his role was to act according to his mission to protect Indonesian citizens.
Ambassador Cotan’s response was not entirely at odds with the affective response of many Indonesians resident in Australia who saw themselves as under attack for their Indonesian Muslim identity. This invoked a discourse of suspicion of their right to belong in an Australian nation that was closing off the embrace of cultural and religious diversity, which Islam had then only recently, and cautiously, been allowed into.
Unlike many other Muslim groups in Australia Indonesian migrants are not refugees: they have entered Australia as skilled or business migrants, and on family visas, for example when they marry Australians. Many of them were caught unawares by the rapidly changing politico-religious landscape in Indonesia following the fall of the Suharto regime in 1998, which saw the rapid growth of Islamist movements, many at odds with customary forms of tolerant and liberal Islam, some espousing violence in pursuit of their ideological aims. One woman, who had married and moved to Australia decades before, expressed the dilemma to me, saying the rapid changes left Indonesian Muslims in Australia vulnerable. She said, “We have to watch our backsides,” meaning that Australian Indonesian Muslims were at risk of becoming unwittingly embroiled with extreme religious movements through innocent acts of attending lectures by visiting clerics. Her solution was to begin an organisation that would facilitate people like herself obtaining up-to-date advice from people more knowledgeable about the contemporary religious landscape in Indonesia, such as students with religious education background, or Indonesian diplomats.
The raids threw apparent certainties onto question, indicating that Indonesian Muslims had been under surveillance, and their loyalty to the Australian nation under question for some time. Citizenship does not automatically confer certainty of belonging to the nation. Indonesian cultural citizenship has been embraced as a way to gain knowledge to protect themselves from future risks in the politico-religious landscape.
Like paintings, leaders evoke certain colours and styles to the optical presentation of themselves in the public imagination. Sukarno was blazing red, as red as one of the dogs in Agus Djaya’s Dunia Anjing (World of Dogs)—chaotic, symbolic, and impressionistic in his tone. Suharto was subtle orange-yellow, like the tiger in Raden Saleh’s painting—naturalistic, romantic, but brutish in essence. His strength was in evoking awe out of the tiger’s ability to dominate. Abdurahman Wahid was Affandi’s strokes of green—rough, bold, disruptive and progressive; the leader who tried to abolish the Indonesian parliament was indeed one of a kind. Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono was as blue as Basoeki Abdullah’s Roro Kidul (Queen of the Southern Sea)—nostalgic and mellow, embellishing the reality of his leadership of being more beautiful. But Joko Widodo’s (Jokowi) colour and style needed to be unpacked differently.
Raden Sarief Bustaman Saleh, Fight between a Javanese rhinoceros and two tigers, 1840. Oil on canvas, 48cm x 60cm. (Public domain)
Jokowi’s optics conjured Yogyakarta’s surrealist painters, particularly Ivan Sagita. Surrealism embraces dream-like scenes and often displaces, distorts, or assembles ordinary objects in bizarre ways. Emerged in the early 1980s, Yogyakarta surrealism combines Western surrealist sensibilities with Eastern (mostly Javanese) social commentaries. Sagita’s work illustrates the struggle of Javans in navigating social hierarchy, not by preaching but by relying on the placement or displacement of carefully curated characters. Jokowi’s politics also relied on appointing and reshuffling political elites as an instrument to convey his intention.
The impossible conversation between Sagita and Jokowi is probably unintentional. Sagita and Jokowi were both educated in Yogyakarta, attuned to Javanese sociocultural norms, and able to appreciate the power behind subtleties. Sagita’s Manusia and Wayang (Men and Shadow Puppets) combined realism with an almost oppressive colour hue, hiding the message behind the messengers, the puppet from the puppeteers, and disruption behind the stability—-this sum up Jokowi’s leadership colour and styles.
Deconstructing Jokowi’s Colour
Ivan Sagita’s potency is not in the seen but in the unseen. The spirituality of his painting is presented by displaying the characters in uncomfortable positions, restraining their brilliance with the heaviness of his colour mixes. He often distorted faces, such as in Meraba Diri (Touching One Self), which connotes a journey to identity exploration. In the Wayang series, Sagita hides the faces behind shadow puppets’ masks. When he shows the faces of his characters, they are part of narrative device to convey specific emotions, not the dominant characters. Observers are often first forced to evaluate the characters and their placement before taking a step back to make sense of Sagita’s colour. Like Anish Kapoor and his blood red or Matt Rothko’s chapel of dark shades of blue and purple, Sagita’s colour obsession was also spiritual and socio-psychological. As he put it “Melihat kehidupan di lingkungan saya, saya mendapat kesan bahwa semua orang dikendalikan oleh kekuatan tak terlihat” [Observing life around me, I got this impression that everyone is controlled by an invisible force]. He smuggled himself into the cloud behind the characters, intensely dark because he blends his white to tone down other brilliant colours. In a way, in his painting, Sagita is everywhere but nowhere—an invisible force.
Like Sagita, Jokowi also is an invisible force. His colour cannot be seen, but felt. He is the white mixer that is hidden behind other colours, muting their hues and adding opacity. This is because in he relies on others to do his politics. When Jokowi reconveyed the empty idea of Global Maritime Fulcrum (a concept offered by his security team), Foreign Minister Retno Marsudi worked hard to translate what it meant. When Jokowi wanted more Islam, Retno ensured Islamic emphasis of Indonesian Foreign Policy was projected through a series of staged photo ops. When Jokowi wanted more culture in Indonesia’s foreign policy, Retno danced. Not only has this constant translation strengthened and cemented Retno’s position in Jokowi’s cabinet, but it also reinforces the importance of subordination to Jokowi’s hegemony: Jokowi has essentially restrained Retno’s colour.
Jokowi’s strength was to restrain and harness the colour of others. He surrounded himself with dominant personalities without making himself look small. He promised them power without surrendering his own, and he made them work for him. When Jokowi desired a strong maritime focus, Susi Pudjiastuti translated it into sinking ship policy. When he desired close cooperation with China, Defence Minister Prabowo Subianto (former opposition leader) switched his critical rhetoric against Beijing. When Jokowi uttered the ambition of realising investment projects and moving the capital from Jakarta to Nusantara, Minister of Finance Sri Mulyani could resist in a small way but still needed to think of how to make this idea possible. When Jokowi hinted at the idea of maybe having the third term, Coordinating Minister for Maritime Affairs and Investment Luhut Panjaitan started testing the waters. While the idea of ministers doing leaders’ bidding is not unfamiliar, Jokowi’s performance is often limited when it comes to the ability to put forward conceptual thinking or to speak in a foreign language, which begs the question which of the aforementioned ideas originated from him.
How to distinguish the message from the messengers?
Author’s illustration of Jokowi’s authority, inspired by Sagita’s Manusia dan Wayang.
Jokowi is a translational leader: he gathers ideas like a bird making a nest, according to which one is able to use to get him closer to his ideal of power. Every character is carefully curated to serve a purpose in Jokowi’s optical presentation of his leadership: Luhut is an image of strength, Sri Mulyani of intellect, Prabowo of taming an enemy, Susi of rebelliousness, and Retno of acquiescence; restraining these dominant characters is what makes Jokowi’s leadership.
Harnessing dominant personalities is an art Jokowi has mastered. However, managing them presents a delicate challenge, especially when they cannot help but be radiant. The elimination of Anies Baswedan in 2016 (then Minister of Education and Culture) and Gatot Nurmantyo in 2017 (then TNI chief); the marginalisation and eventual elimination of Susi in 2019; the demotion and promotion of Ignatius Jonan (demoted as Ministry of Transport to Minister for Energy in April 2016 and promoted as the Mineral Resources of Indonesia in October 2016), Andi Widjajanto (demoted from Cabinet Secretary in August 2015 and later promoted as the Governor of the National Resilience Institute in 2022), and Luhut, (demoted as Presidential Chief of Staff in September 2015 and climbing his way back up with his appointment as the Coordinating Minister of Maritime and Investment Affairs in July 2016); these were all example of his way to eliminate those who do not toe the line, or reflect a colour that he likes. This is not just a matter of harmony but also political order: although he is not the dominant colour, his position on top of the hierarchy must be preserved.
As Jokowi’s colour cannot stand by itself, he constantly needs to negotiate with other elites and bargain with them. Bargaining with oligarchs and balancing them against each other no longer becomes a tactic but raison d’etre. Like Sagita’s painting, the interaction between the character and choices of colour is how the painting conveys specific messages. However, there is the peril of co-dependency between Jokowi and others. When leaders depend on translation, they lose the ability to speak for themselves, as every idea is filtered through their subordinates’ opinions. As a result, a policy produced by such a leader is often incoherent lacks principles. Take the example of the infamous public discourse in mid-2019 between Susi’s environment-friendly position that prescribed limitations on unsustainable fishing practices and Luhut and Jusuf Kalla’s (his former vice president) pro-fisher policy that demanded deregulation. Jokowi’s absence of vision meant that he had no position in the debate, and the conflict resolution was based on whom he needed the most to advance his position. Luhut emerged as the winner not because Jokowi is inherently anti-environment or pro-fisher, but for political reasons.
Reconstructing Jokowi’s Leadership Style
Leadership style cannot be divorced from leaders’ visions of where they want the nation to move to and the desire to delineate themselves from their predecessor. In the early 1950s, Sukarno desired the Indonesian identity to be post-colonial, so he discredited those who painted in Western style and ushered in a hegemony of artists, including Agus Djaya, with a specific style whose paintings depicted local themes. In the early 1970s, Suharto departed from Sukarno’s Indonesianism and re-established the significance of Raden Saleh (a Javanese who painted in the European romantic style) within Indonesia’s cultural imagination, signalling that cooperation with the West was imperative to Indonesia’s identity. Like Saleh’s problematic history of complicity with the colonial power, Suharto coerced the nation to accept the brutality of his brush strokes in exchange for beauty.
Postage stamp issued in Indonesia, 1967, featuring a reproduction of Fight to Death by Raden Saleh. (Public domain)
In October 1967, marking the country-wide anti-communist pogrom, Saleh’s Fight to the Death painting was issued as a postage stamp to evoke the “justified” bestiality needed to eliminate communists. This was issued in tandem with a postage stamp of the Lubang Buaya monument, where the bodies of the officers executed by the Indonesian communist parties were thrown.
Jokowi’s style draws from Suharto’s desire for harmony but is inherently distinctive in his urges for disruption. The ability to understand their differences is like differentiating between Sagita’s and Saleh’s techniques: both painters were romantics from different genres. Similarly, while both presidents were willing to use authoritarian means to achieve their ends, Jokowi and Suharto are different political creatures.
Jokowi’s technique relies not on conveying beauty but on demonstrating progress, akin to Sagita’s subtle but disruptive style. Jokowi’s most original contribution is probably his vision of a post-Java Indonesia, which also distinguishes him from Suharto. Out of the seven Indonesian presidents, he is the one who has spent the most time in his presidency travelling around Indonesia, embodying different Indonesian cultures, focusing on investment outside Java, and embracing inter-island connectivity as part of his presidency. This has disrupted the dynamics sustained since the late Sukarno and early Suharto periods which located Java as the core and the rest as the periphery.
Furthermore, if Suharto’s primary source of authority was fear, Jokowi relies on a subtler form of marginalisation: hegemonising the national discourse. Jokowi enlisted an army of social media buzzers and loyalists to engineer political narrative. Differing ways of generating authority also create distinctive approaches to how Suharto and Jokowi enlisted religion to control dissent. Suharto used religion as a tool for social control. During Suharto’s regime, the Indonesian military trained Islamic radicals as militias to reorder the social hierarchy, reinforcing the position of pribumi (native son) and Islam as the dominant groups. But Jokowi, like Sagita’s paintings, was more performative in his approach. Jokowi dressed up religiously, undermined Islamic factions that supported the opposition, appointed NU leader Ma’ruf Amin as his deputy, and rewarded NU with various economic benefits, all to bolster his chance of winning the election, but without the intention of revising social hierarchy as Suharto had.
Like the Yogyakartan surrealist, Jokowi’s leadership style offers a dreamscape: he relied much on the promise of the future. He often asked Indonesians to tolerate his unpopular policies: lowering oil subsidies, increasing taxes, disregarding bureaucracy, insisting on moving the capital, and insisting on white elephant projects such as the Jakarta-Bandung high-speed railway.
All these promises that we are moving forward into modernity as a nation. Unlike Yudhoyono’s subsidies that give fish to people, Jokowi takes away the fish, leaves behind the fishy smell, but promises that there will be a hot meal at the end.
The Indonesian Legal Aid Foundation (YLBHI) has appealed to Indonesian police chief General Listyo Sigit Prabowo to stop his officers intimidating Aremania (Arema Football Club fans) and witnesses in the Kanjuruhan football stadium tragedy in which 131 people died.
They are also asking Prabowo to order the police professionalism and security affairs division (Propam) to question police officers accused of doing this, because intimidation and obstruction are criminal acts.
“We believe that this situation is very dangerous so the Indonesian police chief (Kapolri) must order his officers to stop acts of intimidation and twisting the facts,” said YLBHI general chairperson Muhammad Isnur in a press release last week.
The YLBHI, the Malang Legal Aid Foundation (LBH) and the Surabaya LBH in East Java, suspect that there have been several attempts at intimidation. This suspicion is based on the complaints that have come in and monitoring by the media.
First, there was a trader who became afraid after meeting with a journalist from a television station because earlier, another trader had been picked up by security personnel after talking to a journalist.
Security personnel also illegally arrested and questioned a witness with the initials K after they uploaded a video of the Kanjuruhan tragedy unfolding. K was then found by a family of a victim at the Malang district police.
Banners with the message “Fully investigate the Kanjuruhan tragedy on October 1, 2022”, which were put up on almost all of Malang’s main streets, were taken down by unknown individuals.
There has been a narrative blaming the victims, in this case the Arema supporters at the league match on Saturday October 1.
The police claim that these supporters could not accept defeat of their team and were drinking alcohol.
“Yet the fact is that the Aremania who took to the field only wanted to meet with the players to encourage them. And before the match, all of them were closely guarded so it would have been impossible for alcohol to be brought into the stadium as is being said in the narrative,” said Isnur.
The YLBHI is also asking the Witness and Victim Protection Agency (LPSK) to be proactive in picking up and protecting witnesses without waiting for a report first, due to the growing number and danger of threats.
Isnur is also asking the National Human Rights Commission (Komnas HAM), the National Commission on Violence Against Women (Komnas Perempuan) and the Indonesian Child Protection Commission (KPAI) to continue to investigate in accordance with their respective levels of authority based on prevailing legislation.
“It’s not enough for the government just to form a TGIPF [Independent Joint Fact Finding Team], but must also ensure that this team does work independently, transparently and accountably. Aside from this, it must guarantee access for the Komnas HAM, Komnas Perempuan and the KPAI to evidence related to the incident,” he said.
Papuan students studying in Russia and Australia have appealed to the Indonesian government to respect the health rights of Papua Governor Lukas Enembe, who was recently been named a graft suspect for allegedly receiving Rp 1 billion (about NZ $100,000) in gratuities.
The students hoped Lukas Enembe would be allowed to seek medical treatment abroad.
Student president of the Association of Papuan Students in Russia Yosep Iyai said that access to health services was a fundamental right of citizens, including the governor.
He emphasised that Enembe needed his regular medical check-ups at the hospital that had been treating him in Singapore.
Iyai said the treatment would be different if handled by a new doctor.
“We already know that when Papuan officials seek treatment in the country, they are mostly not safe,” he said.
“There is a kind of suspicion that when Indigenous Papuans seek treatment in hospitals in Indonesia, on average they do not survive. This fear is an accumulation of a series of past experiences,” Iyai told Jubi via messaging.
‘Confusing’ information
Iyai also said that the government must stop all forms of discrimination against the Governor. According to Iyai, the graft allegation against Lukas Enembe must be proven with accurate data.
Papua Governor Lukas Enembe … facing Indonesian accusations. Image: West Papua Today
“It is still in the investigation stage but the data conveyed to the public is confusing. The government also mentions different amounts of the Special Autonomy Fund suspected of being corrupted by officials in Papua.
“We think that the central government does not want to disclose the matter clearly. They only give piecemeal information which is not backed by accurate data and evidence. It seems that they are still looking for data to strengthen the statement,” he said.
Iyai emphasised that the government must be able to account for all kinds of accusations against Lukas Enembe by providing actual, accurate, and balanced data to the public. He said this was important to avoid an uproar.
Iyai said he hoped that the naming of Enembe as a graft suspect would not disrupt the scholarship programme funded by the Papua Special Autonomy Fund and hamper the disbursement of scholarship funds for Papuan students in Russia and other countries, including Australia and New Zealand.
Australian protest
In Australia, a number of Papuan students protested in front of the Consulate-General of the Republic of Indonesia in Perth last Wednesday. The students carried posters in English asking the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) to not criminalise Lukas Enembe, and to allow Enembe to seek treatment abroad.
The students held a silent protest for four and a half hours.
“We did not use speakers or make speeches. We only brought posters, stood in front of the Consulate General in Perth, with the aim that the Consulate-General would hear our demands and follow it up,” said one of the students, Frans Binilukm when contacted by Jubi.
The Papuan students in Australia asked the government to stop all forms of discrimination against the Papua Governor.
“The KPK is exposing issues without clear facts. We see it as very damaging to the reputation of Governor Lukas Enembe who is also a Papuan figure. We also feel that the media coverage on this matter is lacking solid evidence,” Biniluk said.
Last month, Jakarta held Asia’s very first dairy-free festival and alternative milk latte art competition in a strong showing of the category potential across the region.
Organized by the Jakarta Vegan Guide, the Generasi Dairy-Free Festival, the first dairy-free and plant-based festival in Asia, featured more than 40 brands and hosted over 3,000 attendees. The event was held from September 22-25 at Tribeca Park, Central Park Mall Jakarta.
Jakarta Vegan Guide told Green Queen that the event was designed to target millennials and Gen Z consumers, many of whom are aware of the negative impacts of consuming animal dairy products and are attracted to the growing plant-based dairy trend that dovetails with the coffee culture boom occurring in metro areas across Indonesia.
Dairy-free Asia
According to a recent survey by Rakuten Insight, plant-based milk is the leading plant-based category in Indonesia ahead of plant-based meat and other plant-based products. Indonesians aged 40-54 years make up the majority of plant-based milk consumers. According to Jakarta Vegan Guide, many Indonesians in this age bracket tend to perceive animal dairy products as highly processed and excessively sweet and try to avoid them due to concerns about diabetes. Research from 2020 found that over 10 million Indonesians have diabetes, and this number is growing.
Interest in dairy-free milk, cheese, and other products is on the rise across Asian countries as lactose intolerance affects up to 90 percent of the population. In Indonesia, a 2021 study found that 66 percent of adults are lactose intolerant. Dairy is also a driving force in climate change, with animal agriculture responsible for about 15 percent of greenhouse gas emissions.
Indonesian coffee chain Janji Jiwa has over 900 outlets in over 100 cities.
“Our aim is to dispel the myth that dairy-free creations are impossible to realize and the common assumption that these creations are boring, tasteless and unappetizing. Therefore, we picked only distinguished brands that we were sure everyone would enjoy,” Jakarta Vegan Guide co-founder Firmansyah Mastup, said in a statement.
The event offered a range of plant-based food, including ice cream, gelato, coffee dan, and other beverages all made with dairy-free milk.
“We made sure that our selection of tenants, especially the food and beverage stalls, catered to various types of dietary restrictions, such as gluten-free, nut-free and sugar-free,” Mastup said.
Alternative Milk Latte Art Competition
The festival featured workshops and talks, as well as the Alternative Milk Latte Art Competition. It was sponsored by Oatly, Milk Lab, V-Soy, and Orasi. The content was judged by Indonesian Latte Art Championship 2019-2021 winner Restu Hadam Hasan and accompanied by Edo Huang and Azi Kardian Wicaksono. Lutfi Maulana, Ega Riandi, and Benedict Giovaldo were named the first, second, and third place winners of the competition.
“With the rise of veganism and the alternative milk industry in Indonesia, we believe that coffee chains everywhere must have at least one alternative milk option in their line-up,” reasons Jakarta Vegan Guide co-founder and Generasi Dairy-Free Festival initiator Chandra Revo. “Through this festival, and particularly events such as AMLAC and AMCE, we wanted to encourage coffee chains in Indonesia to provide more dairy-free products in their menu, including non-dairy coffee as well as plant-based snacks, sweets, and light bites, if not also the main dishes.”
The Alternative Latte Art Competition | Courtesy Jakarta Vegan Guide
The latte art competition comes as Indonesia’s coffee culture is on the rise. Revo says the event wanted to challenge baristas who are already crafting dairy-based beverages to use dairy-free options. The team is also working to help bring exposure to coffee chains that already offer plant-based milk.
According to recent Mintel data, Asian consumers aren’t just swapping out dairy for their health. Many are doing it for the environment, too. In India, 33 percent said they’re reducing animal products. In South Korea, 71 percent said climate change is impacting their purchasing decisions. In China, 57 percent of urban consumers say the environment has become a higher priority. Mintel reports that in the 12-month period ending in May 2021, nearly half (47 percent) of new dairy-free products had sustainability claims.
“The growth in eco-conscious, or ‘green’, food and drink consumers, increased focus on animal welfare, and higher priority placed on sustainability all present opportunities for manufacturers and brands in the plant-based dairy category,” Tan Heng Hong, APAC Food and Drink Analyst said in a statement. “Brands in the milk and yogurt sector should take plant-based diets, animal welfare, and sustainability into account when innovating new products and updating manufacturing practices, and highlight the benefits they offer when engaging with consumers.”
