Removing a Dictator Does Not Make Indonesia a Model for Egypt

Jakarta Globe, Jamie Morgan - Straits Times Indonesia | February 25, 2011

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On the day of Hosni Mubarak's resignation as president of Egypt, I sat in a coffee shop in Indonesia with a friend who had helped to bring about a similar resignation of Indonesia's former strongman, Suharto, just 12 years ago.

Former President Suharto saluting after announcing
his resignation in a nationwide television address in
Jakarta in 1998. (AP Photo)

Today, Indonesia enjoys what many Western diplomats have praised as a thriving democracy. Yet my friend looked at me and said: "Our biggest mistake was thinking all we needed was Suharto's resignation. We hope Egypt can strive for better."

The feeling of simultaneous regret for his own country's situation and hope for that of countries protesting in the Arab world is not unique to my friend; it is one that has been echoed at food stalls, in universities and on social media outlets across Indonesia.

If senior US policy experts are touting Indonesia as one of the key models for emerging Muslim-majority democracies in Egypt and potentially elsewhere in the Arab world, why have so many Indonesians said that Egypt should learn from their country's failures rather than its supposed successes?

In the years following Mr Suharto's downfall, legalistic and institutional reforms were in many areas broad and thorough. But many Indonesians said those who praise the country's free elections and institutional reforms are missing the point.

The reforms that matter - those that would stem the pervasive corruption, improve social service delivery and stop violent mobs from being able to harm and kill minority groups at will - may have been enacted, but in many cases they have not been implemented. Essentially, Indonesians said they have not yet seen the fruits of democracy in their daily lives.

Without proper polling data it is difficult to determine how reflective these sentiments are of the Indonesian population as a whole. But the extent to which such sentiments have been expressed on social media outlets and in the three regions of the country where I have done fieldwork is striking. When compared with the praise that has been heaped on Indonesia by US foreign policy experts and senior officials, it is startling.

In fact, the contrast points to a much larger problem in the approach to democracy promotion among the most senior levels of US policy making, particularly as it fits into diplomatic relations. By focusing too heavily on the procedural indicators of democracy to judge a country's democratic "success," such as free and fair elections or legal reforms, policymakers as well as commentators risk missing many of the issues that contributed to civil unrest in Indonesia 12 years ago, and they are doing so across the Arab world today.

In fact, by heaping too much praise on governments that continue to fail in the basic fundamentals of liberal democracy and universal rights - such as minimizing corruption or protecting minorities - the US government risks accelerating the frustration and disillusionment with democracy in these societies.

Indeed, Dr Robin Bush, The Asia Foundation's country representative in Indonesia, has written on multiple occasions over the past two years about the threat that ongoing corruption and poor social service delivery present to the Indonesian democracy. She has noted the small but rising nostalgia in some communities for the stability of the Suharto era.

Indonesia was ranked 110th out of 178 countries on Transparency International's Corruption Perception Index last year. Thus, for Indonesians, hearing that their country is a beacon of democracy has seemed to create questions about the applicability of democracy more than anything else.

"This is it?" people wondered.

No one is saying that Indonesia is going to erupt into a wave of regime-change protests tomorrow, or that its citizens' problems are anywhere near those of protesters in many countries now. The fact that I am able to write this is a testament to that fact.

However, if US policymakers hope to promote governments that are truly going to address many of the frustrations creating instability in the Middle East and other parts of the world, it is important that they look soberly at the shortcomings, as well as successes, of countries like Indonesia.

Indonesia's fate is yet unwritten. To sell the country as a wholesale democratic success is to undersell democracy and the sentiments of many of its citizens.

After all, if there is anything that the beginning of the 21st century has shown the world, it is that neither the US government nor any other government can afford to ignore the voice of the individual.

The writer has been in Indonesia for the past year via a grant from the US-Indonesia Society, doing research on US engagement with Muslim communities in the country.

Reprinted courtesy of Straits Times Indonesia. To subscribe to Straits Times Indonesia and/or the Jakarta Globe call 2553 5055.

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Commentary: Cairo riots jolt our memories of Soeharto’s fall in 1998

Kornelius Purba, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta | Wed, 02/02/2011

For residents of Jakarta who followed the massive riots and demonstrations before Soeharto’s fall in 1998, watching TV reports on the ongoing demonstrations in Cairo may revive a sense of bitter, painful and sorrowful nostalgia. Even now many Indonesians still have to live with the trauma caused by the violence. But we know that the sacrifices of those who lost their lives and futures in the struggle to regain the people’s sovereignty is very fruitful.

We know for sure that the bumpy road the Egyptians have to pass through is still very long, and the journey will be very exhausting, life threatening and demand huge sacrifices. Many nations and multinational corporations do not want to see a democratic Egypt, because for them dealing with dictators is much cheaper and more profitable.

Jakarta and many other cities experienced lootings, killings and torture by Soeharto’s ruthless security forces 13 years ago. We do hope that the Egyptians do not experience the barbaric acts of organized groups in Jakarta who burned alleged looters to death and raped Chinese-Indonesian women.

And just as Soeharto did to no avail in 1998, President Hosni Mubarak is now trying to buy time. What the Egyptians need to know is that Mubarak’s ousting does not mean much if they do not patiently and stubbornly fight to restore the huge damage caused by Mubarak, his cronies and families. Now opposition groups are united but after their president’s departure they will fight each other and often act more brutally than Mubarak.

Soeharto and the gang robbed the state and many Western banks were willing to offer their deposit boxes as safe havens. Most of them still remain untouchable. Soeharto also ensured that the nation inherited unbelievable practices of corruption, abuse of power and violation of human rights.

Western countries condemned the corruption, collusion and nepotism (KKN) practices under Soeharto.

But then they pretended like idiots when Indonesians demanded the scrapping of billlions of dollars granted by Soeharto to Western companies. They said that they should honor the contract although they knew very well Soeharto received bribes for the contracts.

The dictator has ruined almost everything and we have to build our nation from zero, if not minus. They were the laws, they acted like gods. The nation was their absolute property. The killing of innocent victims, who had to lose their lives just because of their belief in the principle of democracy and human rights, or just because Soeharto and his cronies wanted to butcher people for reasons that remain unexplained, remains a dark case.

Very few international media and genius Western scholars believed that Indonesians — most of them uneducated Muslims — could turn their country into a full democracy. Now we are the world’s third largest democracy after India and the United States.

The leaders of Malaysia and Singapore at that time laughed at the nation’s determination to become a full-fledged democracy. “You cannot feed your people with democracy, ha ha ha ha ha,” they jeered at us. Do they still laugh at us now?

In 1999 we proved our determination: We held a very democratic election. But our leaders fought each other just to grab power for themselves. In 2004, we had the first presidential elections and also in 2009. They won international applause. But our leaders again betrayed the trust of their people.

Soeharto resigned on May 21, 1998. Vice President B.J. Habibie — Soeharto’s golden boy — took over his position and led the transitional government until September 1999. The Egyptians will likely have to follow our path.

But if former president Soeharto were still alive, he would be among the first of foreign leaders to offer his courtesy to host embattling Egyptian President Mubarak. In May 1998, just several days before his fall on May 21, Mubarak offered Soeharto to stay longer in Cairo. Soeharto was determined to attend an international summit in Cairo although the situation in Jakarta had become chaotic. Mubarak consoled Soeharto with the words “Don’t worry, be happy”.

As a journalist who covered the Cairo meeting, I still remember Mubarak’s preach about the 1997/1998 Asian financial crisis. According to Mubarak, “The crisis had shown the social cost of global integration and the contagious effect of weakness from one economy to another.” Now Mubarak has to abide by his own advice on the globalization of democracy.

We do hope that Egypt will soon join Indonesia in the top list of the world’s democracies. The price it has to pay indeed will be very expensive.

But are Western countries ready to accept the decision of Egyptian voters on who should lead them? If they decided overwhelmingly on a fundamentalist Muslim as their president, the world should accept their choice. Like it or not it is not your business.

Soeharto’s politics during the Japanese occupation

Dicky Christanto, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta | Sun, 11/28/2010

This book offers a rather unique perspective on Soeharto, the former president infamous for his militaristic leadership during his 32 years in office.

Based on various do-cuments and books, including Soeharto’s 1989 autobiography My Thoughts, Words and Deeds and interviews with Soeharto’s former Japanese superiors and his fellow Indonesian officers, David Jenkins, an Australian journalist and writer, is trying to offer us insight into Soeharto’s thoughts and strategies.

Early on, the book tries to provide multiple perspectives. For instance, in November 1942, in the early years of the Japanese occupation, it is said that Soeharto, a former Dutch KNIL (Koninklijke Nederlands-Indische Leger) sergeant, was “jobless and in great confusion” when just across the street, the Japanese were offering security positions to locals.

Soeharto was reluctant. He wanted to apply for the job but on the other hand he was afraid the Japanese would find out about his background as a former Dutch sergeant.

Soeharto recalled that “he finally managed to make his way to the force without revealing his army background” (page 14).

This is an important episode. Had the Japanese known that anyone previously worked for the Dutch, he or she would be sent to prison.

But Jenkins doubts Soeharto’s statement. His comparative data shows another fact that “a thorough yet tight screening method had been conducted by Keinpetai, an intelligence unit under the Japanese military, in recruiting local police candidates at that time” (page 14).

Thus, it would be almost impossible for the Japanese to let such a potentially dangerous person join the force.

Jenkins also supports his finding by interviewing Tsuchiya Kiso, a former Japanese army intelligence officer who knew Soeharto. Kiso tells him that “it was only in the beginning that the Japanese officers weren’t aware of Soeharto’s past as a Dutch sergeant” (page 15).

This of course raises another question: why the Japanese decided to let Soeharto join the force?

From what I have read, the sole reason behind the Japanese occupation force’s decision in welcoming Soeharto to its ranks, first as a policeman then an army officer, was simply because Soeharto was never considered a threat, but rather an officer with great potential (page 32).

Tsuchiya Kiso, who later recruited Soeharto to PETA, a local army battalion that was initially formed as a Japanese reserve army to fight US soldiers during World War II, acknowledged that he was fully aware of Soeharto’s background as a Dutch sergeant but nevertheless decided to accept Soeharto because, “Our need for such a professional profile had made me go against the army headquarters’ order to avoid recruiting any person affiliated with the Dutch” (page 83).

Soeharto earned the Japanese’s respect and trust. Second Lt. Nakamoto Yoshiyuki, Soeharto’s former superior officer, said that all Soeharto’s former Japanese trainers recalled the former president as “modest, clever and one who never lost control” (page 172).

These Japanese officers apparently never realized that Soeharto, from the time he joined the police through his time as a soldier with PETA, had grown dissatisfied with the Japanese occupation, especially with its practice of romusha, in which thousands of people were enslaved and put into forced labor to construct railways, roads and buildings (page 191).

Unlike Suprijadi, a fellow officer of PETA, who dared to confront the Japanese by organizing a local revolt in Blitar, East Java, in early 1945, Soeharto was at that time occupied with training a new PETA battalion also in Blitar when the Japanese occupation ended with Japan’s surrender to the US forces on Aug. 15, 1945.

Besides revealing Soeharto’s dedicated career during the Japanese occupation, the book unveils some interesting facts that might have helped develop Soeharto’s militaristic leadership skills.

Soeharto, for example, is described to have inherited a great distrust of the Muslim hardliners and the communists on both the Japanese and Dutch sides because “the followers of these two ideologies have shown great militancy and often unpredictability” (page 48).

The book also describes Soeharto as a person who showed a great interest in learning from the keinpetai’s method of interrogation, which was famous for its cruelty (page 24).

Another fact that has been unearthed is how the Japanese trainers successfully implanted the importance of showing solidarity especially toward subordinates through months of hard training.

Later on during his military and political careers, Soeharto was known as a commander who offered great protections, both literally and figuratively speaking, to his subordinates who paid great respect and loyalty to him.

Harsutedjo, the book’s translator, says, “Soeharto’s cronies will always consider him a hero since he is like a great protector of their corrupt behavior.”

Harsutedjo was once affiliated with the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI), which was outlawed by Soeharto. Many of its activists, including Harsutedjo, were sent to prison without proper trial.

The book also tells the readers how Soeharto maintained relations with those around him during the Japanese occupation.

It is rather surprising to find out that Soeharto in his early presidential tenure, visited several of his former Japanese officers as a sign of respect (page 112).

On the other side, it is also clearly described how Soeharto made enemies with some of his former colleagues at PETA. Soeharto for example, rejected the appointment of Pranoto Reksosamoedro, a military caretaker, by then president Sukarno after the abortive coup of the PKI.

According to the book, the rejection was actually only a reaction or some might say Soeharto’s revenge against Pranoto who had unveiled Soeharto’s smuggling activities when he was a military commander in Central Java (page 119).

Despite some minor weaknesses in the book — including some awkward expressions (probably the result of a poor translation) and in places very long explanations — this book will serve as good company to those interested in history.

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Eligibility of Soeharto, nine other figures to get national hero status assessed

The Jakarta Post, Jakarta | Sun, 10/17/2010 2:03 PM

The government has proposed late former president Soeharto and nine other deceased figures to get national hero status to the Honor and Service Council, Cabinet secretary Dipo Alam said in Jakarta Sunday.

Dipo said that the proposal, made by the Ministry of Social Service, was being assessed by the Honor and Service Council before being decided by the President.

“It’s not true that one Pak Harto will get the national hero status. There are nine others who are being proposed by the Ministry of Social Service,” Dipo said as quoted by kompas.com.

The nine other figures, said Dipo, who is also the former student activist in the 1970s, include late noted ulema and former president Abdurrahman Wahid, former Jakarta governor Ali Sadikin and J. Leimena.

Soeharto and nine other figures are part of 18 previously proposed by the Ministry of Social Service, Dipo said.

“Let’s think positively. The government will process them in line with the proposal from the public by taking into consideration their contributions to the country during their lives,” he added.

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Indonesian Government Stripped of Power to Ban Books

Jakarta Globe, Camelia Pasandaran | October 13, 2010

Jakarta. In a landmark verdict, the Constitutional Court struck out a controversial law that gave the Indonesian Attorney General’s Office the absolute power to ban books it deemed offensive.

“The 1963 Law on Securing Printed Materials whose content could disrupt public order is against the Constitution,” said Mahfud MD, the head of the court. “The law is no longer legally binding.”

Maria Farida Indrati, another justice, said the AGO did not have the right to ban books, suggesting that any decision to halt the publication and distribution of printed material rest with the courts, including providing avenues of appeal.

Justice Muhammad Alim said that solely empowering the AGO to ban books was as “authoritarian approach” that had no place in a nation based on laws.

The law was used under the regime of former dictator Suharto to clamp down on dissent.

In the past six years, however, it has been used by the AGO to ban 22 books, most of them dealing with the murky coup attempt in 1965. The AGO’s latest blacklist included a book on the mass murder of suspected communists in 1965/66, the insurgency in Papua and two books on religion.

The legal challenge to the law was mounted by media watchdog PR2Media, which argued the AGO’s powers curtailed freedom of expression.

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Daoed, a Voice of Conscience

Jakarta Globe, Dewi Kurniawati | August 25, 2010

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• Respected Journalist Slaps Down Bakrie Award Jun 22, 2010

Age, as they say, is just a number. Just look at Daoed Joesoef. The former education minister, who turns 84 this month, is sharper, more articulate and more knowledgeable than most public figures half his age.

Daoed Joesof, a former education minister, was
once labeled ‘anti-Islam’ for abolishing the monthlong
Ramadan holiday for students. A devout Muslim, he has
fought to keep religion and government separate.
JG Photo/Dewi Kurniawati

Daoed made headlines when he turned down the 2010 Achmad Bakrie Award for his lifetime of work. Established in 2003, the awards are presented to “distinguished countrymen and women for their extraordinary achievements in the social sciences and literature.”

“I refused it because the hands that offered me the award were muddy,” Daoed said, referring to the Lapindo mudflow disaster in Sidoarjo, East Java, where hectares of land have been inundated with mud, leaving thousands homeless.

The mudflow is widely blamed on a 2006 gas-drilling venture by Lapindo Brantas, part of the Bakrie group owned by the family of Golkar Party chairman Aburizal Bakrie.

Daoed holds the distinction of being the first Indonesian to graduate with a degree in economics from the Sorbonne University in France. “When I arrived in Sorbonne, I was like a rat that fell in a barn,” he said.

“I could learn so many things, I did not know where to start.”

As minister of education and culture from 1978-83 under President Suharto, Daoed was known for two things: his so-called anti-Islam policy — even though he is a devout Muslim — and his decision to ban university students from engaging in political activities while on campus grounds.

He was also known for being bluntly critical of Suharto.

In an interview with the Jakarta Globe at his house in Kemang, Daoed discussed his beliefs and hopes for a better political environment.

Why did you turn down the Bakrie award?

I am thankful to the Freedom Institute [the nonprofit think-tank that administers the award] for their recognition, but I can’t accept it.

Why? Because my conscience just can’t accept the fact that Bakrie is related to a business that has caused disaster to thousands of people in Sidoarjo, East Java.

You can’t ignore your conscience because that is the place where God stays in each of us.

Although Ulil [Abshar-Abdallah, head of the Freedom Institute] tried to persuade me by saying “Just turn down the prize money, but please receive the award,” I still couldn’t do it. I respect Ulil, but still couldn’t do it because the award has the name Bakrie on it.

In life, it’s normal to sometimes give and take. I know the value of money. When you receive something, your hands are always below the giver, never above.

But how would you feel if the hands above you are muddy? So please clean those hands first. Does that make sense?

Bakrie should just give the money to the victims of their mud. Some children from Sidoarjo came here when they heard I was getting the award.

They told me how their dreams and future were shattered because of the disaster. Many of them can’t continue their studies because of the mud. It’s sad that the government is neglecting all of this.

Do you see leadership missing in the Lapindo case?

I see no leadership from Yudhoyono. When all this took place, Bakrie was his minister, so he could have given him a warning. But he didn’t. That forced us to have dirty thoughts: What is behind all this? Did he owe Bakrie a favor?

You worked with President Suharto. What do you think is the core difference between Suharto and Yudhoyono?

Suharto was more solid. He knew he was the head of state, although he made mistakes. But at least Suharto was a firm leader.

Unlike Yudhoyono, Suharto dared to make decisions for us. He knew he was there to decide for us, to govern.

We have four more years under Yudhoyono and now one of his party members has asked if he could run for another term.

You sound pessimistic. Why?

Honestly, yes I am. Because I don’t see our leaders [understanding] the concept of governance. The same goes with our politicians.

All of them are keen on establishing their own political dynasties.

This is not what I and our founding fathers imagined we would become when we gained our independence.

This shows that despite our big potential, we are metaphysically small. Why? Because we are led by leaders with tiny souls. That is why our neighbors look down on us.

The situation today is our collective mistakes as a nation. It is our own fault to have chosen these kinds of leaders.

How do you see our system of education today?

Our Constitution’s preamble states that our goal for independence is to educate the nation. That is the government’s first obligation, to educate Indonesians.

But what do we see today? We see many children committing suicide because they can’t even afford basic education. It is just really disappointing that the government is neglecting education.

It shows that our government has no concept of where exactly they are taking us. You don’t build a nation with prayers, you build it with concepts, preferably futuristic ones.

It’s annoying to see that instead of making education accessible to all, the government creates castes in education by introducing international-standard schools with expensive fees.

I see that as an act of low self-esteem. I thought we fought for independence to eradicate castes.

Because of that, our children today can have a good education not because they are smart, but because their parents can afford to pay.

When you were minister, why did you ban university students from getting politically involved on campus?

I wanted to see universities as a place to uphold science, because we are not inventors, only adopters.

Students should learn about science properly in their universities.

Students should learn politics as a concept so they can become good politicians when they graduate — politicians who have concepts, unlike what we see today.

I never opposed the idea of students getting involved in politics as long as they did so outside their campuses.

If they want to criticize government policies, they should channel that through their political organizations, such as the Muslim Student Association [HMI].

But of course, students refused this because they have been perceived by society as agents of change.

You were also known as a critical voice in Suharto’s cabinet.

Yes, I was, and that is why he didn’t like me. I told him that some of his policies were wrong and he thought I was trying to tell him what to do.

He kept telling me to just take care of education, not other things, but I said no.

I told him that indeed, I hold an oar and he was the captain, but if the boat sinks, I sink along with it. I wanted to be a good aide, a reminder, by not just saying things that pleased him like others did. I had a chance to remind him and I did.

One of my criticisms was about the policy requiring approval from the Home Affairs Ministry and Religious Affairs Ministry to build churches. Look what is happening now. Why is there no approval needed to build a mosque? It’s not fair.

Why do you think you were labeled as anti-Islam?

It’s because I terminated the [monthlong student] holiday during Ramadan.

Hamka [a popular Islamic cleric] and the Indonesian Council of Ulema [MUI] protested against me. I told them, “If you are under Dutch occupation, sure, the Dutch would give you a year’s holiday because that makes you lazy and dumb.”

I also told them that other Islamic countries such as Malaysia, Pakistan and other Arab nations didn’t give holidays during the fasting month.

I also refused to greet in the Islamic manner when I was a state minister. I didn’t say “assalamualaikum,” because I was not a minister from an Islamic state, although I am a Muslim.

If I greet in an Islamic fashion, I automatically eliminate those from other religions who are minorities. We should respect them.

I tried to separate religion from the state, that is why I am surprised that the Acehnese have adopted the Shariah bylaw.

The state should protect its citizens’ right to worship, but we don’t see that today either. It’s sad to see radical groups say “God is great” while crushing Ahmadiyah’s mosques. It is not for us to judge others’ faiths.

You wrote ‘Emak,’ a memoir about your mother. Tell us why she was special.

Emak was special because although she didn’t get the chance to pursue higher education, she convinced me of the importance of education.

She made all school tests fun because whenever I was about to have a test, I could ask for my favorite dishes. I loved those times, it felt like a party to me. I miss it.

How would you like to be remembered?

I would like to be remembered only as a human being, an Indonesian who tried to do something good for the country’s education.

That’s all.

Our Houses of History

Jakarta Globe, Report Sylviana Hamdani | August 05, 2010

Asti Kleinsteuber knows how it feels to walk the halls of power. As a young dancer, she often performed for guests at Istana Merdeka, or the Presidential Palace.

Istana Merdeka in Central Jakarta, which is
open to the public at weekends.
(Photo courtesy of Asti Kleinsteuber)

“I was very impressed with the palace,” Asti said.

“The palace is an important historical witness. Every time I entered the palace, I looked around and wondered, ‘What was this room used for? Where’s Sukarno’s bedroom? Where did Sutan Sjahrir [Indonesia’s first prime minister] sign the agreements?’

But there were no answers, so I just used my imagination.”

Forty years later, Asti has written a book about the six state palaces in Indonesia to fill this very evident information gap. “It’s almost as though [the information about the residences] was hidden,” she said.

It took Asti three years to finish the project, with most of her time spent lobbying the authorities for permits to enter and take pictures of the state palaces. “Getting those permits was a miracle for me,” she said.

But her persistence has paid off. The coffee-table book, “Istana-Istana Kepresidenan di Indonesia” (“State Palaces in Indonesia”), was launched at the National Museum in Jakarta in July.

The book, both in Indonesian and English, contains pictures and colorful illustrations that bring these silent witnesses to history to life.

It had a limited print run of 2,000 copies and retails for Rp 940,000 ($105) at major bookstores.

The book opens with a picture of the white pillars of the Presidential Palace on Jalan Merdeka Utara in Central Jakarta.

The 6.8-hectare presidential compound actually consists of two palaces that sit back-to-back: Istana Negara (State Palace), which faces the Ciliwung River on Jalan Veteran, and Istana Merdeka, which faces Monas, or the National Monument.

Istana Negara was originally built in 1796 as the private residence of a Dutch merchant, J.A. van Braam.

In 1821, it was sold to the Dutch East Indies government to house its governors-general and renamed Hotel van den Gouverneur-Generaal (Hotel of the Governor-General).

“[By facing the Ciliwung River], the Dutch wanted to retain their romantic memories of the little creek that passes through the city of Amsterdam,” Asti said.

Istana Merdeka was built in 1873 by Dutch East Indies Governor-General Louden to address the problem of overcrowding at Istana Negara.

On Dec. 28, 1949, President Sukarno — Indonesia’s first president — and his family moved to Jakarta from Yogyakarta to live at Istana Merdeka.

“We lived at Istana Merdeka then. For me, it’s always been a grand building with beautiful colonial-style [architecture],” said Sukmawati Sukarnoputri, one of Sukarno’s children.

Even if the other first families did not live at the palace, each brought its own personal tastes to the halls of the palace.

Tien Suharto, the wife of the country’s second president, Suharto, made the interior more Javanese by hanging large teak etchings from Jepara, Central Java, on the palace’s walls and pillars.

However, the etchings were taken down when Megawati Sukarnoputri, the eldest daughter of Sukarno, became president in 2001 and replaced them with old paintings that graced the palace’s walls during her father’s reign.

The current president, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, lives at his private residence in Cikeas, Bogor, but his wife, Ani, opened Istana Merdeka and Istana Negara to the public on weekends under her Palace for the People program, which began in May 2008.

Today, Istana Merdeka is used for national flag ceremonies, meetings with foreign ambassadors and the swearing-in of high-ranking police and military officers.

Istana Negara, meanwhile, has become the venue of choice for the inauguration of state officials, high-level meetings and discussions, national and international congresses as well as state receptions.

Istana Bogor (Bogor Palace), built by Governor-General G.W. Baron van Imhoff in the image of Blenheim Palace in England between 1745 and 1750, was originally a resort for Dutch officials.

Sukmawati often spent weekends at Istana Bogor with her family. “It’s very pretty, especially because it’s located next to the Botanical Garden. Great for strolling or running around,” she said.

With 37 buildings on 28 hectares, Istana Bogor is the largest among the state palaces in Indonesia.

The palace also played a prominent role in the country’s history, as it was where Sukarno ended his reign by signing the March 11th Mandate, which handed power over to Suharto in 1966.

Istana Bogor holds a special place in the heart of Annisa Pohan, who married Yudhoyono’s oldest son, Agus Harimurti, there. “The palace has become a part of unforgettable memories for my husband and me,” she said.

Like Istana Bogor, Istana Cipanas, located at the foot of Mount Gede in West Java, has also been a favorite hideaway for presidents and vice presidents. “Just like Camp David in the United States,” Asti said.

Situated 1,100 meters above sea level, the palace used to be the private residence of wealthy Dutch landlord Van Heots.

It was later converted to a resort for the governor-general of the Dutch East Indies under Van Imhoff, who renovated the residence in the style of European summer houses of the time.

The interiors are adorned with pieces from Sukarno’s art collection, including paintings by Lee Man Fong, Basuki Abdullah and Johan Rudolf Bonnet, while Suharto furnished the rooms with handcrafted teak furniture from Jepara.

Today, the palace also boasts modern leisure facilities such as tennis courts, children’s playgrounds, swimming pools, fish ponds and hot water plunge pools with water from the nearby hot springs.

Istana Gedung Agung (Grand Building Palace) in Yogyakarta played a crucial role in the country’s independence.

It was built in 1824 by Dutch regent Anthony Hendriks Smissaerat. With a total land area of 43,585 square meters, the palace consists of four main buildings.

Located on Jalan Ahmad Yani, the president, vice president and their families sought refuge in Istana Gedung Agung during an attack by the Dutch Army in January 1946.

As a result of the aggression, Yogyakarta was established as the capital of Indonesia and Istana Gedung Agung became the government’s office.

It was at the palace that Sudirman was inaugurated as the first high commander of the Indonesian National Army, in June 1947.

He often held meetings in a room on the right-hand side of the main building, which is now known as Sudirman’s room.

“Rumor has it that Sudirman’s spirit still haunts the room,” said Syafri Munardi, who was one of the photographers for Asti’s book.

“The servants refuse to enter the room after dark. When we took the picture of the room, we had to let ourselves in.”

All of the state palaces of Indonesia were built by the Dutch except for Istana Tampaksiring (Tampaksiring Palace) in Bali, which was initiated by Sukarno.

The palace feels more homey, as it is not characterized by the tall pillars that have come to signify power and authority in the country.

Its Balinese-style architecture emphasizes nature and the palace is enhanced with warm natural colors of orange and stony gray.

Located 700 meters above sea level, both Mount Batur to the north and Mount Agung to the east are visible from the palace.

“Bung Karno often [found inspiration] in the beauty and stillness of the palace when he wrote his speeches,” Sukmawati said.

“I hope that more people will get to know more about Indonesia’s state palaces and learn about their important role in Indonesian history.”

With “Istana-Istana Kepresidenan di Indonesia,” there is finally a concise source of information that makes this possible.

As English Spreads, Indonesians Fear for Their Language

The New York Times, By NORIMITSU ONISHI, July 25, 2010

Children learning to prepare coffee at Kidzania, an amusement park in Jakarta that lets children try out jobs; both Indonesian and English are used there. (Kemal Jufri for The New York Times)

JAKARTA, Indonesia — Paulina Sugiarto’s three children played together at a mall here the other day, chattering not in Indonesia’s national language, but English. Their fluency often draws admiring questions from other Indonesian parents Ms. Sugiarto encounters in this city’s upscale malls.

At a mall in Jakarta, Indonesia’s capital, Paulina Sugiarto and her three children, who speak fluent English, looked over comic books in Indonesian.

But the children’s ability in English obscured the fact that, though born and raised in Indonesia, they were struggling with the Indonesian language, known as Bahasa Indonesia. Their parents, who grew up speaking the Indonesian language but went to college in the United States and Australia, talk to their children in English.

And the children attend a private school where English is the main language of instruction.

“They know they’re Indonesian,” Ms. Sugiarto, 34, said. “They love Indonesia. They just can’t speak Bahasa Indonesia. It’s tragic.”

Indonesia’s linguistic legacy is increasingly under threat as growing numbers of wealthy and upper-middle-class families shun public schools where Indonesian remains the main language but English is often taught poorly. They are turning, instead, to private schools that focus on English and devote little time, if any, to Indonesian.

For some Indonesians, as mastery of English has become increasingly tied to social standing, Indonesian has been relegated to second-class status. In extreme cases, people take pride in speaking Indonesian poorly.

At a mall in Jakarta, Indonesia’s capital, Paulina Sugiarto
and her three children, who speak fluent English, looked

over comic books in Indonesian.
(Kemal Jufri for The New York Times)

The global spread of English, with its sometimes corrosive effects on local languages, has caused much hand-wringing in many non-English-speaking corners of the world. But the implications may be more far-reaching in Indonesia, where generations of political leaders promoted Indonesian to unite the nation and forge a national identity out of countless ethnic groups, ancient cultures and disparate dialects.

The government recently announced that it would require all private schools to teach the nation’s official language to its Indonesian students by 2013. Details remain sketchy, though.

“These schools operate here, but don’t offer Bahasa to our citizens,” said Suyanto, who oversees primary and secondary education at the Education Ministry.

“If we don’t regulate them, in the long run this could be dangerous for the continuity of our language,” said Mr. Suyanto, who like many Indonesians uses one name. “If this big country doesn’t have a strong language to unite it, it could be dangerous.”

The seemingly reflexive preference for English has begun to attract criticism in the popular culture. Last year, a woman, whose father is Indonesian and her mother American, was crowned Miss Indonesia despite her poor command of Indonesian. The judges were later denounced in the news media and in the blogosphere for being impressed by her English fluency and for disregarding the fact that, despite growing up here, she needed interpreters to translate the judges’ questions.

In 1928, nationalists seeking independence from Dutch rule chose Indonesian, a form of Malay, as the language of civic unity. While a small percentage of educated Indonesians spoke Dutch, Indonesian became the preferred language of intellectuals.

Each language had a social rank, said Arief Rachman, an education expert. “If you spoke Javanese, you were below,” he said, referring to the main language on the island of Java. “If you spoke Indonesian, you were a bit above. If you spoke Dutch, you were at the top.”

Leaders, especially Suharto, the general who ruled Indonesia until 1998, enforced teaching of Indonesian and curbed use of English.

“During the Suharto era, Bahasa Indonesia was the only language that we could see or read. English was at the bottom of the rung,” said Aimee Dawis, who teaches communications at Universitas Indonesia. “It was used to create a national identity, and it worked, because all of us spoke Bahasa Indonesia. Now the dilution of Bahasa Indonesia is not the result of a deliberate government policy. It’s just occurring naturally.”

With Indonesia’s democratization in the past decade, experts say, English became the new Dutch. Regulations were loosened, allowing Indonesian children to attend private schools that did not follow the national curriculum, but offered English. The more expensive ones, with tuition costing several thousand dollars a year, usually employ native speakers of English, said Elena Racho, vice chairwoman of the Association of National Plus Schools, an umbrella organization for private schools.

But with the popularity of private schools booming, hundreds have opened in recent years, Ms. Racho said.

The less expensive ones, unable to hire foreigners, are often staffed with Indonesians teaching all subjects in English, if often imperfect English, she added.

Many children attending those schools end up speaking Indonesian poorly, experts said. Uchu Riza — who owns a private school that teaches both languages and also owns the local franchise of Kidzania, an amusement park where children can try out different professions — said some Indonesians were willing to sacrifice Indonesian for a language with perceived higher status.

“Sometimes they look down on people who don’t speak English,” she said.

She added: “In some families, the grandchildren cannot speak with the grandmother because they don’t speak Bahasa Indonesia. That’s sad.”

Anna Surti Ariani, a psychologist who provides counseling at private schools and in her own practice, said some parents even displayed “a negative pride” that their children spoke poor Indonesian. Schools typically advise the parents to speak to their children in English at home even though the parents may be far from fluent in the language.

“Sometimes the parents even ask the baby sitters not to speak in Indonesian but in English,” Ms. Ariani said.

It is a sight often seen in this city’s malls on weekends: Indonesian parents addressing their children in sometimes halting English, followed by nannies using what English words they know.

But Della Raymena Jovanka, 30, a mother of two preschoolers, has developed misgivings. Her son Fathiy, 4, attended an English play group and was enrolled in a kindergarten focusing on English; Ms. Jovanka allowed him to watch only English TV programs.

The result was that her son responded to his parents only in English and had difficulties with Indonesian. Ms. Jovanka was considering sending her son to a regular public school next year. But friends and relatives were pressing her to choose a private school so that her son could become fluent in English.

Asked whether she would rather have her son become fluent in English or Indonesian, Ms. Jovanka said, “To be honest, English. But this can become a big problem in his socialization. He’s Indonesian. He lives in Indonesia. If he can’t communicate with people, it’ll be a big problem.”