Being silenced in Ubud Andina Dwifatma  ;  The writer lectures at the School of Communication, Atma Jaya Catholic University, Jakarta; Her short story, “One season, and the next”, is published in 17,000 Islands of Imagination: A Bilingual Anthology of Indonesian Writing, launched at this year’s Ubud Writers and Readers Festival

                                               JAKARTA POST, 11 November 2015

                                                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                           

The recent Ubud Writers and Readers Festival (UWRF) 2015 controversy raises the question: Whatever happened to our much-vaunted freedom of speech? Three discussion sessions related to communism and 1965 were canceled, including a panel on Bali in 1965, a screening of The Look of Silence by Joshua Oppenheimer, and a photo exhibition of The Act of Killing on 1960s survivors. I was a participant in the Emerging Writers program. The cancelled discussions extended to other issues that could potentially “disturb the public peace” — or at least that was what local authorities seemed to think. The discussion of Bali’s reclamation plan was canceled, so was a book launch by fellow author Eliza Vitri Handayani. Eliza, a novelist who for some time lived in Norway, has written a book about her youth in the early reform period in 1998, entitled From Now On Everything Will Be Different. She talked about neither communism nor 1965 in the book. During the event Eliza walked around wearing a T-shirt depicting scenes from her novel, and handed out her name cards explaining the cancelation of her book launch. A rather unique case occurred regarding the canceled launch of the novel The Crocodile Hole by Saskia Wieringa, a lecturer in Amsterdam and a researcher on gender studies. It was canceled evidently because the content included Gerwani (Gerakan Wanita Indonesia, or Indonesian Women’s Movement) one of the largest Indonesian women’s organizations in the 1950s and 1960s, and an affiliate of the Indonesian Communist Party. Cleverly, the Yayasan Jurnal Perempuan (Women’s Journal Foundation), the novel’s publisher, moved the event to Nuri’s Nacho Mama’s restaurant, near a main venue of the festival. Police and intelligence agents monitored the event, some in plain clothes and taking pictures of everyone. A friend who was there asked one of them what the pictures were for and his answer was simply “documentation”. However, the show passed off well because organizers told the local authorities that it was a mere luncheon where people were free to talk about anything. Couldn’t the festival committee have used similar tactics? At the opening press conference, Indonesia program manager I Wayan Juniartha said local authorities had not directly prohibited selected discussions, but only refered to certain rules and advised them to cancel them, otherwise the whole festival could have been in jeopardy. I believe the committee did everything it could with the best interests at heart. However, I cannot help but wonder if there was any way to do more, to fight more, to keep more of the events. Panel names could be replaced. Some things may have had to be compromised, but to just cancel all discussions that might worry authorities was very unfortunate. The panel discussion on Bali’s planned reclamation, for example, was the least we could do for Bali’s best interests. Perhaps the panel could not provide practical solutions, but at least they could have conveyed the concerns of local intellectuals (participants in the “writers and readers festival”, right?) to the people of Bali, where the event was held. If this could not be done, maybe we should not bother talking about history and reconciliation, among themes mentioned by the organizers. The reason used by local authorities to advise the committee to cancel some sessions was also questionable. One panel discussion about Papua did make it through this so-called censorship, featuring Papuan journalist and novelist Aprila Wayar. I was present there, and Aprila talked loudly and forcefully about injustices in Papua. Aprila repeatedly declared that Papua does not benefit from its status as part of Indonesia. There was no intelligence agent present during the discussion. Festivals like the UWRF should be an arena of free expression, of exchanging ideas and experiences. Not only about literature, but also social and political contexts, because literature should not and need not be separated from them. It is precisely by involving as many elements of the community as possible that the festival gets its meaning. The issue of communism and the year of 1965 has always been full of controversy. Screenings of Oppenheimer’s movie are almost always banned, yet many campuses and communities across Indonesia have managed to screen it anyway, and they clearly have neither greater resources nor funds than the UWRF. This year’s festival made me realize that the issue is not merely censorship of discussion of communism and 1965. It is not about a case of cracking open an old wound or a reconstruction of history. It is far bigger than that: we are being silenced. We are being denied our rights as citizens to discuss what is important to us. When voting for President Joko “Jokowi “ Widodo, I never imagined people in certain regions in this country would not be able to discuss their own problems in a festival held in their own land. Even more troubling is to guess in which direction we are heading as a nation. ●

Ahok : Another new hope? Andina Dwifatma  ;  A lecturer in the School of Communication, Atma Jaya Catholic University, Jakarta; She co-founded a longform journalism website, panajournal.com

JAKARTA POST, 28 Maret 2015

                                                                                                                                     

                                                                                                                                                           

All eyes are now on Jakarta Governor Basuki “Ahok” Tjahaja Purnama after he challenged the City Council’s draft budget, which was full of questionable allocations, and reported alleged irregularities to the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK). People have come up with various social media hashtags and movements supporting Ahok have emerged. According to pollster Lingkar Survei Indonesia, from its survey on the city budget dispute, 40 percent of the lower middle class, 51 percent of the middle class and 72 percent of the upper middle class trust Ahok to run a clean government. This reminds us of the early days of President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo’s presidency, when he was percieved as a hero of the people. Time magazine used the term “new hope” to describe Jokowi’s presidential win — but does Ahok represent another new hope for Indonesia? Ahok’s popularity is driven by something different than Jokowi’s. The media used to portray Jokowi as a humble, populist leader. Yet Ahok swears a lot, stands proud with no party affiliation and bluntly states the facts that everyone knows but no one dares to say out loud. He refers to the corrupt as the perpetrators and often says many are against him not because they think he is wrong, but because he is ethnic Chinese and Christian. Ahok invalidates many theories of political communication. He lacks wisdom and has little diplomacy, yet many support him. The logic behind Ahok’s popularity lies in one issue that apparently matters most to people nowadays: a leader is valued on the firmness of his commitment to fighting corruption. Jokowi lost his charm because he failed to show firmness in stopping the police undermining the KPK. In contrast, despite many legal efforts to get rid of him, Ahok appears to be standing tall to fight corruption. When we talk about people’s opinions, who are we referring to? According to political communication scientist Vincent Price, three words often associated with “people” are crowd, public and mass. A crowd is moved by the unity of an emotional experience and tends to be reactive rather than deliberative. In a crowd, individuals very easily lose themselves and only act according to collective desire. Meanwhile, in public, individuals gather not only in the name of empathy, but also in terms of the ability to think and argue. A group of people are called “public” when they face a common problem and express diverse views regarding that problem, but are willing to engage in discussions to find solutions. The danger shadowing modern civilizations is when the public changes into the mass. Abundant information and analysis from various sources — which are not always credible — can make people skeptical. At this point, individuals become no more than part of the mass, a group of anonymous people with minimum efforts to communicate. In Jokowi’s case, people can be seen as more of a crowd. Jokowi’s best qualities are humility and modesty, but we now know that these are not enough. In Ahok’s case, people are more deliberate in professing their support. The budget saga gives people perspective on why they need to be on Ahok’s side. Clear data regarding the draft budget gives a sense of transparency to the Jakarta administration. It is also a sign that people pay attention to credible sources instead of giving support without reason. The message is clear: it is not about supporting Ahok as an individual, but more about how people are empowered to defend their right to their own money. Whether Ahok makes it as the leader of the nation remains to be seen The best thing to do now is to make sure the people stay together as a public, not as a crowd or mass. It will prevent them from being too emotional. It will also empower them to become watchdogs of government, institutions and the media. Hate speech and smear campaigns should be abolished. The public does not always have to be in agreement. Differences of opinion with a desire to solve problems together becomes a prerequisite of the public’s existence. It is the only way our democracy will mature. ●

Beyond #hastags Netizens’outrage and hope Andina Dwifatma  ;   A lecturer at the School of Communication, Atma Jaya Catholic University, Jakarta

JAKARTA POST,  02 Oktober 2014

                                                                                                                       

The case of the regional elections (Pilkada) bill has brought the Democratic Party and its chairman President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono into the spotlight. On Sept. 25, 130 members of the party walked out of the plenary session before voting began on the bill. As a result, only 135 lawmakers agreed on direct elections for regional heads, while 226 others wanted all regional heads to be chosen by local legislative councils. At 2 a.m. the next day, the House of Representatives passed the now controversial law on regional elections. Although later the Democrats’ Sutan Bhatoegana claimed that the President’s instruction was originally “all out” instead of “walk out”, the people already felt cheated. Earlier, Yudhoyono publicly broadcast his support for direct elections through his party’s YouTube account, “Suara Demokrat”. Hashtags like #shameonyouSBY, #shamedbyyou, and #SukaBohongYa (you like to lie eh?) enliven the Twittersphere. On Sept. 29, the latest hashtag #shamedbyyouagainSBY had been tweeted 40,025 times by 6:40 a.m. Are those hashtags forms of digital activism, or merely representations of middle-class fussiness? For the recently resigned Communications and Information minister Tifatul Sembiring, the second possibility is more plausible. Tifatul even accused the majority of Twitter users of being teenagers; which means their voices are irrelevant and unimportant. Tifatul also thought of the possibility of the government banning Twitter, just as the governments of Turkey, Saudi Arabia and Egypt did. Funnily enough, he voiced this thought through his own Twitter account, @tifsembiring. From this case we learn that the separation of the real world from the virtual world is no longer relevant. If the Internet is not seen as a valid form of another reality, the elites of the Democrats would not need to respond to any news emerging from cyberspace. If the President is not afraid that his image — which he has taken very good care of for the past 10 years — could be destroyed simply because of Twitter hashtags, he would not bother to clarify. And if indeed Tifatul believes Twitter users only comprise teenagers, why should he think of banning it? There is something bigger than middle-class fussiness in the case of the Pilkada law and hashtags that attacked Yudhoyono’s image. Currently, Indonesia has surpassed the era where people sit back and watch the elites fight for power. People want to do something, even if it is just to write a 140-character status or to push the “like” button on someone’s Facebook page. The scholar W. Russell Neuman writes that the public’s affective intelligence in political communication is affected by both anger as trigger and fear as repressor. Anger increases when people realize they have been treated unfairly by the ruling elite. They want to do something about it, but are afraid of what might happen to them as a consequence of their actions. This condition causes anxiety. One way to cope with that is to gather, share, strengthen and inspire each other to fight together. And this is where social media plays its biggest role. What happens now is this: people are angry because the ruling elite took away their democratic rights and are fed up because they feel cheated constantly by the President. They meet and share thoughts with each other on social media. People start to realize that they are not alone. Many are angry, disgusted and ashamed of the government. And this encourages taking action. On Sept. 28, people gathered to collect photocopies of their IDs on Sunday morning’s Car Free Day session at the Hotel Indonesia traffic circle in Central Jakarta. It was part of a social movement called “Indonesian people challenge [regional] election law”. In the book Networks of Outrage and Hope (2012), Manuel Castells mentions some characteristics of social movements. Although mostly beginning on the Internet, a movement becomes social when people start to occupy urban space, whether it is a public area or street demonstrations. It is precisely that hybrid between cyberspace and urban space that Castells called “the space of autonomy”. So, it is not appropriate to regard the hashtags phenomenon as mere political euphoria, in the same way that we should not define “digital activism” as being extremely talkative on social media. Social movements have to occupy both channels, especially considering that during President Yudhoyono’s second term, our Gini Coefficient (a measure of a country’s level of inequality, O meaning perfect equality and 1 meaning perfect inequality) has increased to 0.41 in 2011 from 0.3 in the Soeharto era. There are people without Internet access, and the middle class should be able to embrace them. Finally, whether digital activism eventually becomes nothing more than a bunch of tweets and Facebook statuses, or even a form of social change, will depend on two things. First, the extent to which people realize their potential power and are willing to fight for it, and second, the extent to which the government will listen to, and humbly engage, the voice of its people. ●