Jakarta (Journalism)

Pasar Baru, Jakarta, 2008

There was a cartoon in the New Yorker. It depicted a grandfather, father, and young daughter out for a walk. The grandfather was was saying, as the caption read:

“Everything was better back when everything was worse“.

Is that possible?  It may be so.

 

Foreign Devil: Thirty Years of Reporting in the Far East
by Richard Hughes, 1500 Books

Dossier: Richard Hughes. Born in Australia, 1906; died in Hong Kong, 1984. Profession: Journalist, for The Sunday Times and the Economist covering Southeast Asia for thirty years. CBE. Spy? Double-agent?

“From early during his stay in the Far East he was likely a spy for the British government, working with MI6, British Foreign Intelligence. From 1950 on he was a possibly a “spy” for the Soviets as well, providing misinformation fed to him by the British.

Hughes was the inspiration for Dikko Henderson in Ian Fleming’s You Only Live Twice (Hughes was a friend of Fleming and personal guide through post war Tokya) and Bill Craw in John LeCarré’s The Honorable Schoolboy”.  So says the blurb at 1500 Books.

 Well, that is a lot of talk, yes? 

One thing for sure Richard Hughes was a good writer and perhaps one of the great journalists of his day. His book Foreign Devils: Thirty Years of Reporting in the Far East has been republished by 1500 Books.

A copy sits on my desk. I am drawn to it like old memories. It is full of anecdotes with strong punch lines. The writing is compelling and fresh even though the events are so long passed.

Peter Gordon writing in the Asian Review of Books noted that Hughes book is  ”required reading, perhaps, for anyone who considers journalism a calling.” 

 In The Untold Story of Richard Sorge Hughes tells the story of an espionage ring in 1940s Tokyo led by Richard Sorge. Sorge worked for the Nazi embassy in Tokyo as a journalist but as events transpired it turned out he was a double-agent working for the Soviet Union. His activities were exposed and he was captured by the Japanese Secret Police.  He was hung out to dry by his Soviet controllers and then literally hung by the Japanese authorities.   One of his fellow conspirators, a Japanese national named Ozaki, penned a list of ‘precepts’, a kind of guide for espionage agents…

As Hughes writes,

“For reasons completely unconnected with espionage, I cannot resist quoting the nine precepts which Ozaki – a far better journalist than Sorge was, or thought he was – laid down as a guide for intelligence agents:

1. Never give the impression that you are eager to obtain news: men who are engaged in important affairs will refuse to talk to you if they suspect that your motive is to collect information.
2. If you give the impression that you have more information that your prospective informant, he will give with a smile.
3. Informal dinner parties are an excellent setting for the gathering of news.
4. It is convenient to be a specialist of some kind. For my part, I am a specialist on Chinese questions, and have always received inquiries from all quarters. I was able to gather much data from men who came to ask me questions.
5. My position as a writer for newspapers and magazines stood me in good stead.
6. Because I was often asked to lecture in all parts of Japan, I had an excellent chance to learn general trends of local opinion.
7. Connections with important organizations engaged in the collection of news are vital. I was affiliated with the Asahi Shimbun and later with the South Manchurian Railway.
8. Above all, you must cultivate trust and confidence in you on the part of those who you are using as informants in order to be able to pump them without seeming unnatural.
9. In these days of unrest, you cannot be a good intelligence man unless you yourself are a good source of information.

The reason I list the Ozaki precepts, with respectful salute to one communist at least who was an idealist as well as a realist, is because they constitute a perfect guide to all young foreign correspondents. Every successful foreign newsman I ever knew followed and follows, consciously or instinctively, those same rules – especially Precepts 1, 2, and 9.”

Journalism is who, what, when, where, and why.  It is all about information.

In the chapter Down and Out in Shimbun Alley Hughes recounts his election to the post of manager of the Foreign Correspondents’ Club in post war Tokyo at the pay rate of $80.00 a week (“plus free board and half-price drinks”). Not a bad deal considering…

“We had a mixed membership of war-weary correspondents, the world’s best reporters and combat photographers, liberal, conservative, and radical commentators, and some of the world’s most plausible rougues and magisterial scoundrels. There were American and British and French and Russian and Chinese and Australian and New Zealand newspapermen, cameramen and radio broadcasters.”

The last chapter in Hughes book is titled Old Hands’ ‘Last Supper’. This is Hughes tribute to the many reporters he was associated with through his career. Journalists who wrote for Reuters, The Chicago Daily News, AFP, AP, UPI, or who freelanced their way from one Asian trouble spot to another from World War II  through the Vietnam War, a long chonicle of bloody struggle and the remaking of the world: Noel Monks, John Gunther, A.B. Jamieson, Robert Shaplen, Sydney Brookes, Frank Robertson, Carl Mydans, George Thomas Folster, Robert C. Miller, Jacques Marcuse, Dennis Bloodworth, Denis Warner, James Cameron, Alex Josey, and Stanley Karnow.

Dennis Bloodworth and James Wilde were present in Jakarta on Novemeber 30, 1957, the day that Darul Islam attempted to assassinate Soekarno outside of the Cikini School in Jakarta but ended up killing only innocent women and children.  

Bloodworth writes a great story of panic, driving through dark, rainy, blockaded streets of Jakarta with large “bricks” of rupiah to file a wire story. 

It begins… ” ‘Here lies the fool that tried to hurry the East’, they say of our copy, but in fact we manage to tell a remarkable amount of truth, considering that we are painfully torn between two qualities of time – the pricelss stuff jealously hoarded by our editors in the impatient West, and the cheap, throwaway variety of the bureaucrats in the enternal East.” 

Has much changed?

From Alex Josey a short “prized memory of Soekarno: “…We had a breakfast appointment. I wandered alone down a corridor. Sukarno suddenly appeared from one of the bedrooms. He approached me, hand outstretched. We were shaking hands when his bedroom door opened again, and into the corridor stepped a beautiful, young, shaply European woman. I stared, astonished. Sukarno looked at me, turned and saw the girl. He was visibly annoyed. Then he smiled at me and said: ‘I know what you are thinking. That she’s my girlfriend. Aha! All you journalists are the same. She is not.’ I shook my head and said brightly: ‘Mr. President, at this hour of the morning I am incapable of thought.’ Sukarno, never lost for an explanation, said: ‘She is a furniture designer. I want a new bedroom suite.’ By then members of his Court had appeared. Sukarno pointed to one official. ‘She’s his wife’, he said briefly. The man looked astonished. We moved on to the verandah for breakfast. Sukarno had solved another problem…”

How terrible were Hughes day. And oddly, how kind.

 

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Jakarta (berita baru, “the mad doctor”, and wisdom)

 

 

 

Citayam

berita baru

Jakarta Urban Blog would like to note (since the last post) the passing of Ali Sadikin on May 20, 2008.  Ali Sadikin was governor of Jakarta from 1966 through 1977.  Since his death most comments I have seen seem to be favorable about his tenure as governor. 

From Jakarta Post, May 25, 2008, Ali Sadikin an inspiration for Indonesia’s younger generation, Abdul Khalik/Tifa Asrianti

“Former Jakarta governor Ali Sadikin, who died Tuesday, is remembered by Indonesia’s youth as a consistent and brave champion of the poor”.

Sadikin is known for much in the history of Jakarta and for his  “vibrant, colorful, immediate and compelling charm” as Abeyasekere writes. Sadikin was a dashing kick-ass Indonesian Marine and his vision of Jakarta was as a METROPOLITAN CITY (as Abeyasekere says this was always in captial letters and we might as well make them bold in addition). He and his staff wrote the Jakarta Master Plan (1965-1985) which was passed as a law in 1967 to adress the city’s problems in a systematic way and to plan future land use. 

Systematic he was and he is known for land clearances, street clearnces of street vendors and prostitutes, the arrest and jailing of beggars, the notorius seizure and destruction of the becak, and to even declaring Jakarta “a closed city” to further migration.  Ultimately, as Abeyasekere notes, Sadikin had to resign himself to the fact of a very large and growing population of urban poor.  On the one hand there was supression of undesirable elements like the beggars and prostitutes and on the other a concerted effort to improve the condition of the kampungs. Sadikin achieved success in part as the Jakarta economy, at least to 1974, was booming under the New Order and their motto of ‘Development’. Dangdut music was the new wave and Golkar lost the 1974 elections in Jakarta. His later participation in the ‘Petition 50′ in 1980 is also noted.

In the end Sadikin’s efforts were such that Jakarta was made even more attractive than before to those in the search for the “good life”.  As usual it’s a hard luck story.

Of all Jakarta’s governors since long gone Batavia  he was the best.  There is a certain political courage seen in Sadikin’s later life and lasting until the end.

Two new books have recently crossed my desk and are worth looking at.

CONFRONTATION: THE WAR WITH INDONESIA 1962 – 1966 by Nick van der Bijl, Pen and Sword, 2008.

This is a kind of “only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid-day sun” war book.

As described, “At any one time up to 50,000 troops (half of the Army’s strength today) were deployed along a 1,000 mile front. Their enemy were the communist led Indonesians whose leaders were determined to seize the states of Sarawak, Sabah and the oil rich Brunei, all of whom for their part wished to maintain their Commonwealth links. The catalyst for the war was the 1962 uprising in Brunei which was quickly crushed by the bold intervention of British army units”. 

Most of the book is about how the British knocked the crap out of Indonesian “confrontasi” through the skilled command of British led forces. There is a lot of operational detail in the book. The political background to these events is well outlined.   The British called Soekarno “the mad doctor”.  The book is full of revelations about the heavy involvement of the CIA in the politics of the time, supporting insurgencies through Indonesia and then betraying them to regular Indonesian forces.  The book also outlines the roles of the PKI and the development of the Indonesian TNI and their relationships to events in North Borneo.

There is one item the book includes as Appendix I,  Fundamentals of Guerrilla War, summarizing the theories of Colonel Nasution. Nasution, of course, led Indonesian forces in 1948, was twice appointed Army Chief of Staff, and otherwise had quite an eventful career.  Nasution’s first fundamental is “War in this century has become a total people’s war”.   Some of these theories were thrown together as Nastion contemplated the prospect of having to take the war to the Dutch with bases in the villages of the mountains of Java.  In light of  students on the streets of Jakarta being arrested for protesting fuel price increases Nasution is worth reading, at least for those who realize the people’s war must now be an urban one.

 

The Wisdom of Whores: Bureaucrats, Brothels, and the Business of AIDS by Elizabeth Pisani, W.W. Norton, 2008.

The editorial review calls it as  ”a flame-throwing epidemiologist talks about sex, drugs, and the mistakes (dismal), ideologies (vicious), and hopes (realistic) of international AIDS prevention”.

This book is about how we need a new paradigm.  Her web site The Wisdom of Whores is also worth looking at.

Jakarta (deviantArt, airports, MONAS)

 

 

 

 

 

    

 

MONAS

deviantArt

Before I started to publish Jakarta Urban Blog I came across the deviantART web site while searching for images of Indonesia and Jakarta.  There I found a community of young, creative Indonesian and Jakartan artists, writers, and photographers which has really impressed me. I have used some of their photo images on this site with thier permission and with not ever having been turned down.  Thank you.  Some of my favorite artists and photographers can been see here and I recommend a visit …> go to site 

Or you can go the the deviantArt web site and type in “Indonesia” or “Jakarta” and see for yourself what turns up. You will be surprised and pleased at the talent displayed there.

As I have been sorting through the photographs which I took on my recent visit to Jakarta I have been posting a few on my deviantArt page which I like and might be of interest to my readers. These photographs can be seen here …> go to site

I will be adding more as time allows.

Airports

The flight from Hawaii to Jakarta is long. I have done this three times from Honolulu to Changi, Singapore to Jakarta.  I have come to love to the Changi airport. It is the best designed and most comfortable airport I have seen. I generally love airports anyway. Maybe this is not too politically correct these days but I do have a few weaknesses when it comes to travel.  On two other occasions I have flown Japan Airlines from Honolulu to Narita to Jakarta.  The service has been very good and the flights comfortable. 

I once flew from Honolulu to Sydney to Denpasar on Quantas. Something I will never do again as the flight time nearly drove me insane and (so sorry) the rudeness of the Austrailians upon landing at Denpasar was a little over the top. But they were, after all, there to party or whatever. The flight back to Sydney was even more rude as most of the cabin was drunk to put it bluntly.

  

Incehon, Korea

This last time I flew Korean Air from Honolulu to Inchon to Jakarta. Nice new planes, good food, but the layovers not too long and not too pleasant. The airport at Inchon is some space age steel and glass design that looks like it came out of a Star Wars set. The interior replicates a mall. It is located out in the middle of nowhere on extremely flat ground. By the time I got to Jakarta I was pretty well burned out with the layover time and the jet lag but I do like to antcipate the arrival at Soekarno-Hatta, the smell of kreteks as you walk out of the plane down the ramp and toward customs. 

As I was taking my time enjoying all this a sudden rush of Koreans went by me on the run. Yes, literally running- running fast. What that was about I was soon to find out. I had forgotten about the Visa on Demand line you have to go through before you get to immigration and your baggage and customs.  So, there I was at the end of a line of about one hundred Koreans which had gone running by me like it was some kind of Olympic trial.  But, this IS Indonesia and I had arrived safe and sound so I just waited my turn and hoped my family would not leave before I walked out of customs and on to the street looking for them.

Fortunately they waited. This too is always a good time. I love the action at Soekarno-Hatta. Love to see my family after months and months of not seeing them.  Love to get in the car and the drive over the tol road and out to the house in Citayam.

Then hot tea, cigarettes, and talking, talking, talking until you almost pass out.  But before I passed out they wanted to know what I wanted to do, where did I want to go, what did I want to see. I could only reply, “JAKARTA, JAKARTA, JAKARTA”.  Selamat mallam.

MONAS

 I needed a day to recover and as I was re-orienting myself to the local neigborhood and seeing old friends again I decided that the place to start was the very center of Jakarta. The Monumen Nasional. The National Monument. MONAS.  Start there. Take the elevator to the top and have a look at the city. A good place to start and especially after I found out my brother-in-law, Ovet, had, after years of living in Jakarta, never been to the top of MONAS. He was, after all, a MONAS virgin. Time to fix that as well.

 ”The National Monument combines tradition and modernity in the way Sukarno liked best. Its form harks back to the lingam-yoni sculptures of Indonesia’s Hindu days; its dimensions are based on 17/8/45; and its base contains a museum of Indonesian history, depicting in dioramas scenes in Indonesia’s long evolution towards independent nationhood. Placed in the centre of Jakarta’s huge main square, it managed to dominate that expanse as no other structure ever did, and its gilded flame, visible from afar across the city’s flat, low profile, reminded Jakarta’s citizens and visitor’s of the country’s past and its aspirations for the future”.

-Susan Abeyasekere (Jakarta: A History)

Monument Nasional (MONAS): 137-metre tall Italian marble obelisk topped with a 35kg gold-coated flame. Sometimes known as “Soekarno’s erection”. He probably wouldn’t mind. I am sure he was familiar with the Hindu temple at Candi Sukuh in central Java and knew exactly what he was doing.

  

Candi Sukuh

I use the National Monument as a landmark I can tie myself to give perspective to where I am in the city. I am always looking for it when close to kota and North Jakarta. Though it no longer dominates the skyline as Jakarta’s “flat profile” has changed since Soekarno’s and Abayasekere’s time you can still catch glimpses of it between the high rises as you approach Merdeka Square.

Merdeka Square was fenced during Sadikin’s turn as governor in order keep the riff-raff, the vendors, and the prostitutes out and the (now gone) kijang in. Though there are two very large main gates visitors wishing to visit MONAS must look for a narrow opening on the east side of Merdeka Square. You park your car and then take a long walk toward the monument which works something like a people magnet once you close enough to it. Depending on which way you get lost trying to find the entrance which, of course, is on the opposite (west) side of the monument from where you parked you car, the walk to the MONAS seems mazelike but without the walls.

There is plenty of magic and distractions on the way. The magic is that the price for a bottle of water goes up the closer a thirsty bule gets to it. The distractions can be anything. For example on the day we were there several hundred three-foot tall uniformed schools kids were running around and lining up and running around. And what appeared to be half the Jakarta riot police force dressed in black uniforms were marching around in the mid-day heat. Two inflatable police boats were resting on the ground. This made me wonder if they, the police, knew something I didn’t, regarding the need for a boat at Merdeka Square. You never know.

The entrance is a curiosity in itself. The entrance is a hole in the ground because to get to the monument first you must go underground. It’s part of the mystic. Take the steps down to the long tunnel corridor and take the steps up to ground level to emerge within the aura of the MONAS. There in the distance and up a long flight of stairs, appearing in the side of the yoni, (a Sanskrit word meaning “divine passage”, “place of birth”, womb”) are the great doors of the MONAS.

But before you go up you must go down again or you will not be able to say you have seen the MONAS. Down leads to the very womb of Indonesia’s aspirations for national freedom and self-determination. Down also lead to a huge open cavern and dark cool air.

The dioramas are still there. Well executed but dimly lit they depict a very long string of fights against Dutch colonial tyranny. They are believable because anyone who has read into that history knows beyond a doubt the Dutch were tyrants. Toward the end of what seems a very long story one arrives at the events of the sixties gets the sense that history is being played with here. It seems just not quite right. Sukarno is depicted on his sick bed signing the nation over to the smiling general. Is that how it really happened? Someone should fix that and fix the burned out lights which make some of the diorama scenes nearly illegible.

The open floor is polished reflecting the ceiling lights. Feral cats have found their way down the stairs and haunt the tops of the upper walls. How were they able to get up there? How will they get down? Around one side is a giant Garuda dedicated the principles of Pancasila. There was a new and sort of run down display of Jakarta mass transit routes and a model of what Jakarta might look like in the future curiously showing water taxis picking people up along open the open quays at highrise apartment buildings. Hmm? Is there a hint of something here? Is this Jakarta, the Venice of the Java Sea?

After being well steeped in Indonesian history, you have to go up again to buy your ticket to the top. MONAS has an elevator. I understand the fee for the trip up but this is the only elevator I have experienced where you can buy insurance (optional) before you step in.

Going Up

With tickets in hand you go up again, turn a corner, and queue up. Here people are orderly, stand in line, don’t smoke, follow all the directions given to them by the guards and the cute girls in uniforms who are there to look cute and answer any and all of your questions. The line is solemn and moves slowly. In the line are military cadets with short haircuts in sharp clean uniforms with their sharp goodlooking girlfriends, middle-class Jakartan families, people with nothing better to do, and no foreign tourists (at least not today and then only me).

Finally, you get close enough to see the machine. The doors are small, the elevator is small. There is a sign posted which says “Maximum 11 People” (inluding the young man at the control of the lift). Stand behind the lines and wait for the doors to open. The elevator is empty and leaves one to speculate that there is another elevator to take people down. There are stairs going up to the left and right. Then, in you go with your other ten comrades. There is no sense that you are moving but in about two minutes or so the doors open and there you are. The observation deck of the National Monument.

There is a rush of light and wind and a feeling of relief from being free from the claustrophobic feeling of being jammed into such a small space and from the fact that that the lift didn’t get stuck. Because, you know, if it had gotten stuck it would only have been minutes before total insanity prevailed.

The views are fantatic. Well worth whatever risks that were involved (known or imagined) to get to the top. It was a fine hot day so the air pollution of the city stood out against the sea of the red roofed kampungs and the spiky highrise buildings which stretched off into the horizon in all four directions.

There is a feeling of freedom here. Not just because of the wind and open views from a high vantage but also because the only offcial looking person in the relatively small observation deck was a man smoking kreteks and selling tokens to use for the telescopes.  Being at the top was a sudden release from the formality of going up.  No more solemn history here just shere enjoyment.

Going Down

I had got what I came for. I took some very good photos of the Jakarta skyline, Gambir Station, Istiqlal Mosque, and surrounding environs.  As all good things must come to an end it was time to go down.

If going up was solemn and orderly, and being on the top gave a sense of openess and freedom, going down was a bit of anarchy.  It seemed I was living the major themes Indonesian history. I was having a good time.

As it turned out there WAS only one way up and one way down. The lift that brought us up was the lift we had to take down but there were no guards and no pretty girls in uniforms to help queue the line. When you decided you had had enough and wanted to leave you gathered in from the lift door and waited for it to open then stood briefly aside to let out the incoming passengers and worked your way through a kind of MONAS rugby scrum (at least an Indonesian version of a rugby scrum).  It was a sort of a macet orang at any rate.

There was a rush to get on. Now, for some reason, with elbows out and people grabbing their loved ones so as not to have them left behind, this all seemed like a cause for the giggles to break out. Everyone was smiling and having a good time of it. And in we went on one large swoosh with my brother-in-law grabbing me by my shirt sleeve. Once inside the giggles didn’t stop, at least not for a bit. But soon, as in all lift rides, things calmed down.  On board was a that typical middle-class Jakartan family. Husband, wife, son, daughter. Dressed respectively for a day trip the National Monument.  As things calmed down a bit the husband made a single comment-  “Ohhh, Indonesia “.  Everyone knew exactly what he meant by it. For some reason, I don’t know why, maybe the the feeling of the moment coming over me, I raised my arm high and shouted ” HIDUP! “  Meaning  ” to life! ” or ” to live “.  The reply from the everyone in the lift was ” HIDUP! “.  And more giggles. THAT felt good. Today, we were all Indonesian patriots.

The doors opened, on the second floor as it turned out, and we all emerged onto the stairs.  And we were all laughing again partly from having had a good time and partly from the relief we had survived the lift ride, both up and down.  Walking back out into the shade of the yoni past the entrance there stood about one hundred of those three foot tall school kids in their sharp looking uniforms waiting to go up. 

MONAS. If you visit Jakarta, or if you live in Jakarta and have never been to the top, do not miss going. It is well worth the rupiah.

Jakarta (Bung Karno)

Sukarno 1948  – Born in 1901 in Surabaya. First President of Indonesia. Architect. Genius. Womanizer. And, yes, indeed, a megalomaniac. I love him.

“Is Jakarta the awful culmination of the nation’s past or does it in fact mirror Indonesia’s future? Throughout its history its rulers have certainly intended the latter, but the real city has always taken its own perversely different path, making it to some extent a microcosm of the country at large- a forum for government policies at odds with people struggling to make a life of their own”.

Abeyasekere 1987: xvii

“Dust lies hot on streets
Clearly empty of love and pity;
It’s not like my green village
Here”.

- Ebiet Ade

“As you know, I am an architect. Besides, I have been roaming far and wide abroad… and everywhere, in every country, I’ve seen the Parliament Building is always the most prestigious… Oh, yes, I am indeed a megalomaniac…”

Cited in Leclerc 1993: 54

“Build up Djakarta as beautifully as possible; build it as spectacularly as possible, so that this city, which has become the center of the struggle of the Indonesian people, will be an inspiration and beacon to the whole of struggling mankind and to all the emerging forces. If Egypt was able to construct Cairo as its capital, Italy its Rome, France its Paris and Brazil its Brasilia, then Indonesia must also proudly present Djakarta as the portal of the country”.

Sukarno 1962 (The Transformation of Djakarta Raya)

“Projects such as the Asian Games, the National Monument, Independence Mosque, the Jakarta By-pass, and so on, are examples of “National Building” and “Character Building” …of the whole Indonesian people striving to recover out national identity. Who is not aware that every people in the world is always striving to enhance its greatness and lofty ideals? Do you remember that a great leader of a foreign country told me that monuments are an absolute necessity to develop the people’s spirit, as necessary as pants for somebody naked, pants and not a tie? Look at New York and Moscow; look at any state capital, East and West it makes no matter, and you always find the centers of nations’ greatness in the form of buildings, material buildings to be proud of”.

Cited in Leclerc 1993:52

“Man does not live by bread alone. Although Djakarta’s alleys are muddy and we lack roads, I have erected a brick-and-glass apartment building, a clover-leaf bridge, and our super highway, the Djakarta Bypass, and I renamed the streets after our heroes: Djalan Diponegoro, Djalan Thamrin, Djalan Tjokroaminoto. I consider money for material symbols well spent. I must make Indonesians proud of themselves. They have cringed too long”.

Cited in Abeyasekere 1987:210

“Comrades from Jakarta, let us build a Jakarta into the greatest city possible. Great not just from a material point of view; great, not just because of its skyscrapers; great not just because it has boulevards and beautiful streets; great not just because it has beautiful monuments; great in every respect, even in the little houses of the workers of Jakarta there must be a sense of greatness… Give Jakarta an extraordinary place in the minds of the Indonesian people, because Jakarta belongs to the people of Jakarta. Jakarta belongs to the whole Indonesian people. More than that, Jakarta is becoming the beacon of the whole of mankind. Yes, the beacon of the New Emerging Forces”.

Cited in Abeyasekere 1987:168

“Who is not proud that he is a member of a nation that is not stagnant, of a nation that is moving, moving, moving on swiftly towards a building of a great state, whole and strong, that stretches from Sabang to Merauke, a great state that moves forward fast toward a life that is noble and respected, just and prosperous, that is a beacon to others, that had no exploitation de l’homme par l’homme, and that is rapidly becoming one of the champions of the new emerging forces, a nation that is moving to realize socialism based on its own identity?”

Cited in Feith and Castles 1970:118-19

“What we ask is just a dike
No monuments or football stadiums
Or coloured fountains
Send us lime and cement”.

-Taufiq Ismail

Cited in Teeuw 1967:254

Notes:

Abeyasekere, S. 1987. Jakarta: A History. Singapore. Oxford University Press.

A is for Abeyasekere. Susan Abeyasekere, Jakarta’s historian. If you have anything to say about Jakarta at all you start with her. Her book is perhaps cited more than any other text in journal articles, books, and Jakarta Urban Blog.

Kusno, A. 2000. Behind the Post Colonial: Architecture, urban space and political cultures in Indonesia. Routeledge.

I am currently reading Kusno’s most interesting book. Most of the Sukarno quotes are cited there.

Leclerc, J. 1993. ‘Mirrors and the Lighthouse: A Search for Meaning in the Monuments and Great Works of Sukarno’s Jakarta, 1960-1966′ in Nas, P. (ed.) Urban Symbolism, Leiden: E.J. Brill.

Teeuw, A. 1967. Modern Indonesian Literature. The Hague: Nijhoff.

Off to Jakarta (or not)

I am certainly going to bring pants and not a tie. I would look somewhat foolish walking down Jalan Thamrin with just a tie and no pants. But either way I can’t go alone…

My wife tells me that if I go to Jakarta by myself then I can’t go. No way!!!! (emphasis not mine). It appears I need a minder, mind you. In the old Soviet days you couldn’t go anywhere without your local Intourist Guide (= KGB agent). I am sure their methods have improved and the spying is all remote and electronic now. But I digress. The issue is not that I would be out to steal any of Indonesia’s state secrets it’s more that something unpleasant might happen to me while strolling down Jalan Thamrin. Should that occur it would be a family scandal of high magnitude, catastrophically unlucky, not mention unpleasant.

How about Jalan Jaksa? You know Jalan Jaksa?

Oh, that’s where the bule live. Cheap apartments. Kind of the “bule district”. Looks like Bali. Small street. Many café there. People know that’s where the bule live so they know all the bule there and leave them alone. They know they have money or not. Because, you know, bule miskin are there. You can go there.

Can I walk around there by myself?

You can go with Dedy or Ovet or Budi or Gari or Eky.

Why can’t I go around Jakarta by myself?

Because you’re a nice person and you don’t know Jakarta. You’re a virgin. You know virgin?

What!? Yes, of course…

Ya, you’re a Jakarta virgin… (laughs). You don’t know Jakarta well enough. There are bad people there that seem nice and nice people there that are really bad.

What!?

How can you tell the difference? They’ll take advantage of you because you’re a nice bule.

How do they know that? I see, I am like someone who just comes from the village for the first time to Jakarta. Is that it then?

You think you know Jakarta but you don’t. You can’t go by yourself.

Ok, well how about Jalan Thamrin? Can I go there?

Yes, if someone goes with you… (more laughs)

Can I take the train?

Nooooooooooooo way!!!!!

Look for me soon on the streets of Jakarta. You will know who I am.  The nice bule with the pants and the entourage of minders walking down Jalan Thamrin.