Adrian Vickers' Indonesia blog

Hari Kebangkitan Nasional yesterday also marked the historic passing of one of the last leaders of the Indonesian independence movement, SK Trimurti. Trimurti had been a member of the nationalist movement since 1933, and during the Revolution had been Minister of Labour (how many countries had female ministers of labour in the 1940s?!). She had been a leading figure in the labour movement and in journalism. Australian audiences may remember her for the brief interview in Curtis Levy's documentary Riding the Tiger. Amazing woman. She was 96.

By a strange coincidence yesterday also saw the death of Ali Sadikin (b.1926), Jakarta's most popular governor ever from the 1970s, and the man who pioneered the wearing of batik shirts as official uniform (I used to have one of the black and gold Ali Sadikin batik shirts, but it has long since gone to Vinnies). Probably the President who never was.

Just received news of the death in the early hours of the morning (Yogya time) of Indonesia's greatest historian of the twentieth century, Sartono Kartodirdjo, at the age of 86. Fifty years after the defining Indonesian National History Conference (which he attended in his native Yogyakarta), another of the writers who defined history for two generations of Indonesians has died.

Although he was almost totally blind by the late 1980s, Sartono's teaching and commentary continued to influence Indonesian history up until the present day. I saw him in action at the 1994 National History Conference at Udayana University in Bali. Seeing this old, frail man being led in, I did not expect much, but I still remember his session as one of the most exciting of the many conferences I have attended. Satrono gave a brilliant analysis of the lack of a concept of 'heritage' in Indonesia, and the need for a national heritage body, and his discussion showed that he was as sharp as ever. However it was in the question-and-answer session that the Conference really came alive.

You will remember this was still in the period of Suharto's proclaimed 'Openness', but most Indonesian academics, cowered by years of intimidation and spying on campus, were too scared to raise issues. Some of the more daring students began to ask Sartono about his education, and at first I wasn't sure where this was leading. Sartono had been a student of Harry Benda at Yale, and then studied under Wertheim in Amsterdam. The questions amounted to asking him whether he followed Wertheim's theory of the 1965 Coup (never explicitly stated at the meeting, but everyone knew that this was the theory that the Coup was all Suharto's doing). Sartono made a very skillful answer about having more than one 'guru', meaning that he wasn't tied to the ideas of Wertheim, but he never directly denied the suggestion that Wertheim's theory might be true.

He was then asked why the last volume of the National History had never appeared. Some of his panel co-members (from the University of Indonesia) prevaricated, too scared to discuss the problems directly, but Sartono was very firm in saying that he refused to allow this final volume to be published because the military were trying to force their interpretations on him. If I remember rightly, this was just before the press bans, but people understood that there were penalties for being too outspoken, and Sartono would have been aware that some of the members of the audience (including members of the History Department at the host university) were military appointees of little talent except for enforcing New Order ideology. My strongest memory of that Conference was the formidable intellect of Sartono, as he put all the other paper-givers and commentators into the shade.

Just got a copy of the condensed translation of the Serat Centhini by Soewito Santoso and Kestity Pringgoharjono, with great photographs by Fendi Siregar (The Centhini Story: The Javanese Journey of Life, Singapore: Marshall Cavendish, 2006). The philologist in me would like to know more about how the translation was done (what text was used, the multi-volume romanised version?), and how the condensation process occurred, but from a reader's point of view it is very exciting to have the text made available to a wider audience. What is really nice about the book is that it includes photographs of the key sites, and even objects and ceremonies, discussed as the various protagonists wander over the island of Java in the wake of the fall of Demak to the kingdom of Mataram.

The text has an interesting relationship with Panji stories, not just because both are concerned with journeys, but also because the expositions of contemporary life and values is clearly meant to provide models for readers. I look forward to sitting down with this book next to the full Javanese text. It would be nice if this could also provide a precedent for publishers to sponsor translations (preferably in full) of other classics of Indonesian literature. Stuart Robson long ago talked of the need for readable versions of some of the great Kekawin in a series like the Penguin Classics.

Ide Anak Agung Gde Agung, former raja of Gianyar, former Prime Minister of the State of Eastern Indonesia, and Former Foreign Minister of the Republic of Indonesia, has been named in this year's round of 'National Heroes'. This elevation has sparked great controversy in Bali (and elsewhere in the Republic), since his role in Indonesia's achievement of independence was mixed. On a national level he took a pivotal action that brought the Dutch to the negotiating table, but on a local level he was involved for a while in the active suppression of nationalists, and according to the memoirs of Tjokorda Agung Sukawati (Memoirs of a Balinese Prince), the Anak Agung was involved in the torture, and possibly responsible for the deaths, of a number of independence fighters.

The most important action taken by the Anak Agung was in his role as Prime Minister of the State of Eastern Indonesia, which was a Dutch-sponsored state set up as part of their attempt to maintain an Indonesian Federation, in competition with the move to independence of the Republic. After the Second Police Action, a military action that saw the capture of the Republic's leadership and the independence fighters forced into guerilla warfare, Anak Agung brought down the State of Eastern Indonesia as a way of exposing the Dutch Federation as a sham, and thus undermining Dutch attempts to gain legitimacy in international forums. Most importantly this meant the Dutch could no longer maintain US support. From the reports I have seen, this move, which led to the final negotiations for Sovereignty, was what was recognised in the award.

The announcement has seen letters of support from some in Bali, but outcry from others, according to reports in Jawa Pos and the Bali Post over the last two days. Although no one has cited the evidence of Tjokorda Sukawati's book, or other similar accounts such as that of Nyoman S. Pendit, the criticism from surviving veterans of the struggle for independence and their family members has been very strong, and there are even calls to have the President revoke the award.

With the death of leading historian Onghokham on 30th August, one of the important voices of Indonesian history has been silenced. Many of us knew Ong as much for his eccentricity as his work, and within the Indonesian history profession his contribution was often overlooked for those of the other greats of his generation, Sartono and Taufik Abdullah. Sartono's contribution to peasant history and his leadership of the Gadjah Mada school of historians made him important, but his health and age have meant that he has been less of a presence in the last decade. Taufik Abdullah remains the leader of the history profession in Indonesia, and the best commentator on national history.

However Ong's role, and this may be why he was not fully appreciated in his own country, was as the maverick voice, always standing slightly askew of the mainstream. He was the first—Indonesian or Western—to write real cultural history, with his incorporation of Javanese spiritualism, food history and the understanding of power in operation into his analysis of the lived nature of history in Indonesia. We await with great excitement David Reeve's biography of Ong.

Went to the wonderful Gondng Baru sugar mill and sugar museum at Klaten today. I thought that viewing all those fabulous Dutch photographs of the interiors of sugar factories would have prepared me for the experience, but it was truly awesome. This is one of the very few working sugar factories left in Java, as many closed down during the Asian Crisis. As readers of G. Rodger Knight will know, this factory dates back to 1868 (that’s what it says on the chimney anyway), and all the old Dutch machinery is still working. Apparently they even have people come out from Europe from time to time to service it (to be more correct, some of the machinery is French and English, the trains for pulling the cane cars were made in Germany, Ornstein, Berlijn-Amsterdam-Batavia). With the usual Javanese ingenuity, machinery is patched up, and some things are very run down, that is some of the machinery has thick coatings of sugary grease. But still the milling goes on around the clock.

Occupational health and safety? What’s that? You walk along the gantries past all the moving parts (keep your hands in your pockets), churning pistons, massive wheels, grinding teeth of giant cogs, while everyone else is walking around with bare feet. No wonder they have to have big selamatans with slaughtered buffalo, reyog dancers and other offerings (I refer everybody to the article by John Pemberton in the festschrift for Ben Anderson if they want to read more on that subject).