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. ●

A ban that never was: Beyond the headlines Ariel Heryanto  ;  A professor at the School of Culture, History and Language at The Australian National University, Canberra; Author of Identity and Pleasure: The Politics of Indonesian Screen Culture (2014)

                                               JAKARTA POST, 10 November 2015

                                                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                           

Challenges to the New Order’s official lies and propaganda surrounding the 1965 political turmoil and the subsequent killings of approximately 1 million citizens have a long history, dating back decades before the downfall of the New Order government in 1998. These counter-narratives have taken on a wide range of forms, including artistic works of various media and materials. Therefore, it is inaccurate and unfair to suggest — as some do — that certain films or novels in the recent past have broken the silence on the taboo of the 1965 killings. Such claims can spread widely across the globe, when presented in English, to audiences with little or no knowledge of Indonesia. The progress of efforts, often greatly difficult, made by many Indonesian and non-Indonesian people, to unearth and expose this forbidden topic may feel slow for some. However, achievements have been substantial and the desire to seek some kind of response, including a state apology to the victims, reconciliation, retribution or rehabilitation, persists. One of the latest and most significant achievements in these efforts is the upcoming International People’s Tribunal on Indonesia 1965, in The Hague, the Netherlands, on Nov. 10-13. Regardless of the actual outcome and the future impacts of the tribunal, the fact that such an event can take place at all is extraordinary. It marks a new watershed and represents a most important step toward redressing the serious crime that took place half a century ago. The Netherlands also hosted what appears to be the largest and most comprehensive among the many conferences in 2015 dedicated to commemorating the 50th anniversary of the 1965 killings. Held in Amsterdam, the two-day conference (Oct. 1-2) discussed new findings, insights and questions about the past killings, with a global comparative perspective and with a keen eye on the meaning of the past violence in the present day. Sponsored by leading institutions — Institute for War, Holocaust and Genocide Studies (NIOD), Royal Netherlands Institute of Southeast Asian and Caribbean Studies (KITLV) and the University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA) — the conference featured a good combination of very senior and leading experts in the field of study as well as some of the best among the brightest younger generation scholars. There was also a good balance of Indonesians and non-Indonesians. It was the most productive and inspiring gathering on the topic I have seen in decades. If there is anything to be mildly regretted about the conference and the tribunal, it would be the fact that all these important events did not take place in Indonesia and it did not operate in Indonesian. After all, the issue matters first and foremost to the millions of Indonesian people. Under the ideal circumstances, Indonesians residing in Indonesia would enjoy the greatest space in most, if not all, engagements on the issue. The reasons why the ideal is not the reality should be obvious to us all. Resistance to open and critical discussion in Indonesia, in 2015, remains strong among members of the ruling elite and some social groups. Apparently, for the same reasons (distance, language and resistance), the tribunal in The Hague has not received as much coverage as it deserves in the Indonesian media, while the conference in Amsterdam barely got any mention at all. Ironically, one recent gathering that has generated a flurry of media campaigns and controversy is the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival (UWRF 2015). It is ironic, because the festival was never meant to be a forum for primarily discussing the 1965 killings. But the irony does not stop here. The rest of this note will take a closer look at the case, as it throws some light on how the discourse of 1965 could have its unexpected twists and turns. Things are not always what they may appear to distant observers. UWRF 2015 took place in an Indonesian town. However, being an international event, English was the language of the festival. Key speakers, participants, programs, topics of discussions and any potential impact arising from the whole event were never intended to be primarily for, or exclusively about, Indonesia. This year’s UWRF enjoyed generous coverage in English mainstream media, especially in Australia, and on social media, for weeks and in two rounds. First, before it opened on Oct. 28, there was a flurry of international outrage and condemnation directed against the Indonesian government and the Balinese local authorities. It followed the organizers’ cancelations of a few items in the program that dealt with 1965 violence and land reclamation in Bali. The decision was made, subsequent to, and in line with, verbal intimidation from local police who demanded that the festival refrained from discussing “politics”, and stay focused on “culture”. No official ban was issued. When confronted with international pressure, the local police denied any responsibility for the cancelations. Notwithstanding this, “ban” and “censorship” have been used liberally in the titles of most media reports. Not long after being relieved of the police threat, the UWRF faced a burst of criticism from local observers, activists and those whose panels had been canceled at the last minute. To many of the latter, the UWRF was too meek when threatened by the local police. Second, soon after the festival was over, there was another series of media coverage and another irony. This time, instead of outrage and condemnation, we read jubilation and self-congratulatory notes from the festival’s key participants. As if to disapprove the criticism from local activists, central to their main message was that various panels in fact discussed the sensitive topic of 1965 and the environment. There were no disruptions or retaliation from the police. The heroic stories of “defiance” demonstrate not a triumph over a ban, but that there was never a ban in the first place. Plenty of significant deliberations on the 1965 violence have been taking place across the archipelago, occasionally with real, or the threat of, violence and disruptions. Most of these stories are accessible only to those who speak Indonesian or one of the nation’s ethnic languages. They remain outside the world’s radar, until someone tells the world, in English, in compelling ways. ●

Censorship in paradise Faiza Mardzoeki  ;  An activist; playwright; theater producer and director in Indonesia

                                               JAKARTA POST, 07 November 2015

                                                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                           

There is no doubt that Bali is a beautiful place. Lush green rice terraces, created through the hard work of Balinese farmers, bordered by dense coconut palms and frangipani trees. Along the coast, this is supplemented by wonderful beaches and vast stretches of turquoise seas. Adding to the beauty, lays what Westerners see as a colorful and exotic religious and artistic life. This has been the foundation for that which defines Bali today: It has become a place where millions of people from outside Bali, mostly from Australia and other like-minded countries, take their vacations. Millions of holidaymakers go to Bali for leisure and relaxation, for minimal prices, much less than they would pay if they were to travel in their own country. It is this context that defines much of what happens in Bali, especially happenings that involve foreign holidaymakers — including the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival. The festival was initiated following the first Bali bomb in order to help revive tourism in Bali. And the initiative has, thus far, worked brilliantly, attracting hundreds of people from outside Indonesia every year to Ubud, helping raise the town’s profile internationally. I have twice been invited to speak in Ubud, both to present the filmed version of my play They Call Me Nyai Ontosoroh and to address a panel discussing women in literature. It was a very ambiguous experience. My partner and I were accommodated in luxury hotels, surrounded by the stunning beauty of those rice fields created by thousands of impoverished farmers. In and around the festival venues are scores of cafes and restaurants serving delicious Indonesian and international food. Cafes are designed to capture and perpetuate the ambience of Ubud, with beautiful views where possible. As a holiday experience, it is pleasant. In addition to the food and the views, you can wander from one discussion to another, sometimes these events host famous and interesting writers. Talks can be on light and diverting topics or serious and intense ones. If one has heard too much, there is opportunity to disappear to an alternative cafe to sit and chat with others who are also taking a break from event activities. Over the last 10 years, festival organizers have succeeded in attracting high-profile writers, each presenting differences in political opinion, as well as non-political writers, to what has now transformed into an internationally famous festival. Thus, it was very good news when the festival made the decision to host several sessions as a platform for discussing the controversial events that occurred between Sept. 30 and Oct. 1, 1965 and the subsequential mass killings of alleged leftists. In 2014, in Jakarta, I had presented Nyanyi Sunyi Kembang Genjer (The Silent Song of The Genjer Flowers) a play I had written about the sufferings and struggle of women who had been imprisoned, tortured and abused as part of that purge of the Left. Promoting a humane public discussion of these events was very important to me. Indeed, many groups, individuals, lawyers, artists and activists have become increasingly active around these issues over the last few years, including survivors themselves. This was due to climax this year, the 50th anniversary. Lawyers and activists will also launch the International Peoples Tribunal in The Hague, the Netherlands, in November. Both part of the official program as well as at fringe events, the issue had also recently been taken up by the organizers of Frankfurt Book Fair, where Indonesia had been the featured country. A number of other events are planned. To have the issue highlighted at the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival would have been another positive development. However, the program got caught in the contradictions of Bali’s tourism existence and the ambiguities of the government’s passivity. Local police in Gianjar regency applied pressure on organizers to drop the sessions, placing the whole festival under threat of being banned, this year and in the future. [...] there is also a responsibility, despite tourism, to take up issues of national and local importance. Organizers caved in and withdrew all sessions with “65” in its title or blurb. Such pressure should not have been a surprise as harassment of activities connected to discussion of 1965 had been regular over the past several years. While the President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo government has not initiated any tightening of censorship, it has not sent any signals that it has approved a relaxation of censorship. Subsequently, local authorities feel free to act in a repressive manner, especially when there is some local support for such repression. Among the many people, including myself, who have worked hard to raise the issue of the mass killings and repression, there has been great disappointment at the festival’s easy surrender on the issue. Of course, we can understand one aspect of this failure to stand strong. Essentially, the festival is an event providing an interesting and relaxing leisure activity for holidaymakers — it was not designed to promote any specific political or cultural issue. It is defined by the holidaying character that has been developed in Ubud, one that can tempt us all. That there might be productive discussions on serious issues is a positive side-effect. Even with the cancellation of the sessions, there were discussions of “65”. Activists held side events in defiance of the police. However, the repression and mass killings of 1965 remains the biggest issue of humanitarian concern and justice in Indonesian history. Winning an open discussion of those events, especially in the face of the official state version of events that has been upheld to this day and in the face of hostility from some more conservative elements of state and society, has been, and still is, a matter that requires real campaigning and a very serious commitment. When the festival decided to hold and promote sessions on 1965, they were duty bound to also adopt that seriousness and campaigning stance. Yes, such a commitment would be in contradiction to the tourism context of the festival — but surely the organizers realized that from the outset? The tourism context has always been a source of tension. It has meant that the language of the festival has always been English, with the result that sessions on Indonesian literature in the local language are inevitably side-lined, despite efforts to achieve a better balance. This tension seemed to be manifested again in the decision to cancel a discussion on the controversy surrounding the construction of a luxury villa complex, on reclaimed land, on the Bali coast. No doubt the festival pumps money into the local economy and provides some livelihood but, as an intellectual and cultural event, there is also a responsibility, despite tourism, to take up issues of national and local importance. This is part of contributing to local progress, even when this means seriously confronting censorship. ●

Writing our way to freedom Endy M Bayuni  ;  Senior editor of The Jakarta Post; This is an abridged version of his keynote address at the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival 2015

                                               JAKARTA POST, 04 November 2015

                                                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                           

When Indonesia celebrated its 70th independence anniversary this year, we paid tribute to our heroes for making it happen. Through blood, sweat and tears, they turned Indonesia into a free and independent nation. Not widely appreciated or recognized in these celebrations is the contribution that some of these heroes made through their writings. We tend to focus more on those who took up arms and joined the physical struggle in the late 1940s. Equally important, if not more so, was the work of thinkers who launched the independence struggle decades earlier through their writings. Without their expression, there would have been no independence to fight for to begin with and there may not be an Indonesia today. The idea of Indonesia, and the idea of a free and independent nation, came from these writers. I am talking not only of Sukarno and Hatta and people of their generation, but of their seniors; people like Tjokroaminoto. These men and women were writing much earlier; dreaming of their people becoming a free and independent. There was not that much freedom then. Many worked under the most difficult circumstances, enduring intimidation, harassment, arrest and torture. Some were sent into exile to malaria-infested remote islands and never returned. Indonesia’s independence struggle recognizes three milestones: May 22, 1908, with the launch of Budi Utomo, the first movement that marked the birth of national consciousness; Oct. 28, 1928, when youth representatives from far flung islands came to Jakarta to read out the Youth Pledge proclaiming one nation, one country and one language: Indonesian and the Proclamation of Independence, on Aug. 17, 1945. In all these three historic events, we see the influence of writers. They are the unsung heroes. They wrote their way to freedom and independence for the entire nation. Fast forward to today’s independent Indonesia. Writers still contribute to the progress of the nation although they take a backseat role. But the one thing that has not changed is censorship. It existed then during Dutch colonial rule and it exists today in an independent Indonesia. Indonesia made a great impression at this year’s Frankfurt Book Fair in October, but so elated were we that we missed the theme of Frankfurt 2015: Freedom of expression. Salman Rushdie, the renowned Indian-born author who still has a death warrant against him going back to 1989 after the publication of his book, The Satanic Verses, was a keynote speaker in Frankfurt. He made a brief appearance, but left a powerful and important message that is worth reciting because it resonates with the current situation in Indonesia. Rushdie lamented that in the 21st century, people in the West still talk about freedom of expression, an issue that he said should have been settled long ago. Rushdie cautioned societies against complacency, saying that “without freedom of expression, all other freedoms fail.” Journalist Goenawan Mohamad, who chaired the Indonesian national committee at the Frankfurt Book Fair, addressed the question of freedom in his speech, referring to a 19th century Javanese poem that talks about a character, Malang Sumirang, sentenced by kings and priests to burn in fire for blasphemy. The story goes that he voluntarily walked into the fire. As the fire raged, he asked for pen and papers and started to write a poem. He did not burn or die, and once the fire was out, he gave the poem to the king. He then walked off and disappeared into the jungle. Power is not unlimited, and it ends when it is confronted by a desire to write, said Goenawan. By writing, Malang switched his place from being condemned to being an invisible man, and made those with power powerless. The Frankfurt message on freedom of expression and the importance of writing is important for Indonesians to hear, especially in view of what has happened in this country. We are currently witnessing a shrinking of the space for public expression. A campus publication was withdrawn under police pressure because it reported on the 1965 massacre of communists in Indonesia. A 77-year old Swedish citizen of Indonesian origin was manhandled and deported by the police for praying at the grave site of his father, a victim of the 1965 mayhem. And then there was the decision by the Ubud festival to cancel a number of programs deemed “sensitive” by the authorities. The organizers of the Ubud festival were forced to cancel all discussions on the 1965 tragedy or risk losing the entire permit. There have been other cases of infringement on freedom of expression in Indonesia, including bans on publications, public discussions and the screening of films. These are all recent events. For much of the last 17 years following the collapse of the Soeharto regime, there has been an expansion of freedom in Indonesia. Just look at the number of books published, films and documentaries produced and plays performed. Indonesia was well on its way to claiming its place as the third largest democracy in the world. Events in recent weeks, however, raise serious questions about Indonesia’s commitment to democracy and freedom. History shows that once the censors get away with one ban, say a public discussion of a particular issue, another one will quickly follow and the censorship will not stop. Before we know it, we discover that the space for expression and discussion has disappeared. Freedom in Indonesia is in peril. Thankfully, the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival 2015 went on in spite of the restrictions to offer up over 200 events. The title, “17,000 islands of imagination”, is an invitation for writers and readers to come to Indonesia because it remains a largely unexplored goldmine for people to find inspiration. The Ubud festival is an event to celebrate some of the best literature in Indonesia and the world. It is also a festival to celebrate freedom of expression and to recognize and appreciate the work of writers. Ubud serves as a reminder to continue the fight, the good fight, against censors of any kind and to keep the public space as wide open as possible for free thought and free expression. We should take our cues from early writers in Indonesia. Through their imagination, they were able to create a nation called Indonesia. A nation free and independent. Like them, we must fight our way to freedom and prosperity through writing. ●

Censorship in Ubud: Raising the red peril and the ‘Streisand effect’

Censorship in Ubud: Raising the red peril and the ‘Streisand effect’ Julia Suryakusuma  ;  The author of Julia’s Jihad

                                               JAKARTA POST, 04 November 2015

                                                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                           

Who doesn’t know Barbra Streisand, the super talented singer, songwriter, actress, filmmaker and icon, one of the best-selling artists of all time, known for her songs like Hello Dolly, Send in the Clowns, The Way We Were and many others. But did you know she also gave rise to the term “the Streisand effect”? In 2003 Streisand attempted to suppress photographs of her residence in Malibu, which inadvertently drew further public attention to it. Since then, “the Streisand effect” refers to the phenomenon whereby an attempt to hide something, remove or censor it, has the unintended effect of publicizing the phenomenon even more. In these days of the internet, something can easily go viral within a very short time. Even before it was named “the Streisand effect”, the phenomenon often occurred in Indonesia, especially during the New Order (1966-1998) when the censor-happy government routinely suppressed information and quashed dissent. Recently the Streisand effect reappeared in Bali, at the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival (UWRF), with the forced cancellation of sessions related to events that occurred in 1965. Known as the G30S Movement, it was triggered by the kidnapping of seven Army officers by a unit of the presidential guard on the night of Sept. 30, 1965, an event that the military blamed on the now defunct Indonesian Communist Party (PKI). This incident led to one of the biggest massacres since the Holocaust, resulting in the deaths of between 500,000 to 1 million people. This year marks 50 years since 1965. At the recent Frankfurt Book Fair (FBF) held between Oct. 14-18, where Indonesia was guest of honor, 1965 was a prominent theme. In some ways, this year’s 12th UWRF was an echo of the Frankfurt fair. As an act of solidarity with Indonesia’s theme in Frankfurt, the Ubud organizers adopted the same “17,000 islands of imagination” theme. They also featured sessions on 1965: three panel discussions, a book launch, an art exhibition and a screening of Joshua Oppenheimer’s documentary film The Look of Silence. As the biggest literary festival in Southeast Asia, the UWRF had no difficulty bringing in more than 165 authors, artists and performers from some 30 countries this year. Even after the New Order officially ended in 1998, there are still elements of the power elite who are unhappy with the way some Indonesians have commemorated the killings of 50 years ago last October. A critical flaw of the Reform Movement in 1998 was that it retained many figures of the New Order, who are still alive and in power to today. The New Order’s state version of the events of 1965 provided the rationale for their rule, and was the basis for their security and law-and-order approach. Obviously a re-examination and questioning of these events — even today — threaten the status quo and the still deeply entrenched belief within the general public of the New Order version of 1965. If the FBF was out of reach — and out of the jurisdiction of the Gianyar Police — Ubud, a well-known center for art and tourism in the regency of Gianyar, was not. They pressured the organizing committee to cancel events in the UWRF related to 1965. There was no letter issued by the police instructing the festival organizers to cancel these events, therefore it’s not surprising that the organizers were criticized for capitulating too quickly. With the festival just about to kick off and under the threat of not being given a permit for the following year’s festival, the organizers took the path of least resistance: they gave in to police pressure. Witnessing the police slowly but surely dismantling the power of the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) in the past few years, what chance does a literary festival have? Perhaps this was what the Ubud organizers thought, forgetting that they have access to lawyers who could possibly have sorted things out, as the police had no legal injunction anyway. It’s difficult to judge: it’s simply a moral and political decision that the UWRF organizers had to make on the spot, as they felt too much was at stake. Where does the Streisand effect come in? Not from “bringing in the clowns” (the police), or “the way we were” (how the remaining New Order people want to be). I would say there are two ways the Streisand effect works. One is that by raising the red peril and the specter of communism, it brings the issue to the fore, exposing it more to public scrutiny. But what is even more important, is the issue of censorship. Besides the sessions on 1965, the police also demanded that a session protesting land reclamation in Benoa Bay be cancelled. Clearly, what the authorities really want to do is to suppress public dissent in general. After 17 years of the Reform Era, and a year of President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo’s people politics in which they have slowly but steadily lost control, the remaining elements of the New Order as well as the power elite in general, are fighting tooth and nail to maintain their power and resorting to raising the specter of the red peril . Freedom of expression is one of the bastions of democracy. The increasingly sharpened polarization between the pro-democracy forces and the anti-democracy forces in Indonesia today is being played out in many arenas. The URWF was just one such arena. It should raise our awareness of the peril of New Order style censorship and the clamping down of freedom of expression in Indonesia, which we’ve fought so hard for. ●