The Cold War and Its Legacy in Indonesia 9781032285238, 9781032285245, 9781003297185

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Series Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Note
List of Abbreviations
1 Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI
2 The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels
3 Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery
4 Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism
5 Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left?
6 Surrealist and Realist Novels: Post-Authoritarian Writers Revisiting Official History
7 Conclusion: The Legacy of the Red Scare in Indonesia
Index

Citation preview

The Cold War and its Legacy in Indonesia

Mayasari-Hoffert examines the depiction of the Left in Indonesian literature since the anti-leftist purge in 1965. With close textual analysis of Indonesian literary texts and their political context, this book investigates how the New Order regime under Suharto was able to build a metanarrative of liberation while purging the Left in Indonesia. Even after the regime’s end in 1998, many Indonesians still have an ingrained fear of the prospect of Communism, with the result being that literary representation of the Left is still seen as problematic. Through reviewing Indonesia’s institution of literature, the use and abuse of universal humanism under the New Order regime is examined, and the ways in which power intersects with literature are explored. An informative read for scholars and students of Indonesian politics, literature, and the cultural cold war. Silvia Mayasari-Hoffert is a lecturer in the Department of Southeast Asian Studies at Goethe University Frankfurt, Germany.

The Cold War in Asia Series Editor: Professor Malcolm H. Murfett

A series of books that both explores and addresses some of the more important questions raised by the Cold War in Asia. This series isn’t confined to single country studies alone, but welcomes contributions from research scholars who are tackling comparative issues within Asia during the time of the Cold War. Quality is our goal and this series reflects this objective by catering for work drawn from a number of disciplines. If you work in the broad field of Cold War studies don’t hesitate to get in touch with the series editor Professor Malcolm Murfett at King’s College London ([email protected]). Books, both single authored and edited manuscripts, should preferably be within the 60,000–100,000-word range, although we are also interested in shorter studies (25,000–50,000 words) that focus on elements of the Cold War struggle in Asia. If you are working on a project that seems to fit these guidelines, please send a detailed proposal to the series editor. Every proposal will, of course, be subject to strict peer review. If the proposal is supported by experts in the field, it will be our aim to begin publishing the next volumes of this series within a year to eighteen months of the issuing of a contract to the author. We look forward to hearing from you. The Barter Economy of the Khmer Rouge Labor Camps Scott Pribble Public Health and Cold War Politics in Asia Edited by Liping Bu Korea and the Evolution of the American-Australian Relationship, 1947–53 Aligning Interests Daniel Fazio

For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/ The-Cold-War-in-Asia/book-series/CWA

The Cold War and its Legacy in Indonesia

Literary Representation of the Red Scare Silvia Mayasari-Hoffert

First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 Silvia Mayasari-Hoffert The right of Silvia Mayasari-Hoffert to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Mayasari-Hoffert, Silvia, author. Title: The Cold War and its legacy in Indonesia : literary representation of the red scare / Silvia Mayasari-Hoffert. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2024. | Series: The Cold War in Asia | Includes bibliographical references. Identifiers: LCCN 2023022667 (print) | LCCN 2023022668 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032285238 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032285245 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003297185 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Indonesian fiction—20th century—History and criticism. | Right and left (Political science) in literature. | Cold War in literature. | Indonesia—Politics and government—1966–1998. Classification: LCC PL5084 .M39 2024 (print) | LCC PL5084 (ebook) | DDC 899/.22109358598037—dc23/eng/20230627 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023022667 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023022668 ISBN: 9781032285238 (hbk) ISBN: 9781032285245 (pbk) ISBN: 9781003297185 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003297185 Typeset in Galliard by codeMantra

Contents

Notevii List of Abbreviations ix 1 Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI

1

2 The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels

17

3 Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery

33

4 Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism

50

5 Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left?

70

6 Surrealist and Realist Novels: Post-Authoritarian Writers Revisiting Official History

85

7 Conclusion: The Legacy of the Red Scare in Indonesia

99

Index105

Note

Except for direct quotes, Javanese names are written in the original before the introduction of the New Spelling in 1972.

Abbreviations

BTI CGMI Gerwani GMNI HSI HMI KAMI KAPI Lekra Manikebu PKI PNI Tapol TIM

Barisan Tani Indonesia (Peasants Front of Indonesia) Consentrasi Gerakan Mahasiswa Indonesia (Indonesian Student Movement Concentration) Gerakan Wanita Indonesia (Indonesian Women’s Movement) Gerakan Mahasiswa Nasional Indonesia (Indonesian National Student Movement) Himpunan Sarjana Indonesia (Association of Indonesian Scholars) Himpunan Mahasiswa Islam (Association of Muslim Students) Kesatuan Aksi Mahasiswa Indonesia (Indonesian Students’ Action Union) Kesatuan Aksi Mahasiswa Indonesia (Indonesian Pupils’ Action Union) Lembaga Kebudayaan Rakyat (Institute of People’s Culture) Manifestasi Kebudayaan (Cultural Manifesto) Partai Komunis Indonesia (Communist Party of Indonesia) Partai Nasional Indonesia (National Party of Indonesia) Tahanan Politik (Political Prisoner) Taman Ismail Marzuki

1 Introduction The Cold War and the PKI

Immediate Interpretation: The Official Version of the “Failed Coup” During the night of September 30 to October 1, 1965, six high-ranking Indonesian generals and one adjutant were murdered. Major General Soeharto accused the PKI (Communist Party of Indonesia) of being the mastermind behind the operation, which would be portrayed shortly thereafter as a failed coup. Armed with this accusation, Soeharto took control of the army and launched an anti-leftist1 purge that resulted in millions of deaths over the course of the following months.2 In order to justify the mass killings, the army spread propaganda about the PKI’s barbarity, including a supposed orgy and brutal tortures, allegedly committed by members of Gerwani and Pemuda Rakyat, which were affiliated to the PKI, during the killings of the generals.3 President Soekarno, who embraced socialism, was gradually stripped of his power, and Soeharto became president in 1968, officially ushering in a “New Order” period. Under the New Order regime, Indonesia was swiftly transformed from a socialist into an authoritarian capitalist state, and the country became an ally of the Western bloc at the peak of the Cold War. Despite the about-face of the country’s political trajectory that greatly benefitted the Western bloc, the role of the Cold War in this abrupt change of governments has not been subject to much examination, particularly within the country itself. The murder of the generals was officially declared to be a failed coup by the PKI and is reiterated as such yearly by major media outlets.4 Indonesia’s official version of the so-called “September 30th Movement” is based on Nugroho Notosusanto’s account that was published only shortly after, in December 1965. Titled 40 Hari Kegagalan ‘G30S’: 1 Oktober-10 November 1965 (lit. The 40th Day Failure of the 30 September Movement: October 1 to November 10, 1965), the book accuses the PKI of being the culprit behind the murder of the officers, since the PKI, as the book claims, suspected that the generals had formed a “Dewan Jenderal” (lit. Council of Generals) that would rise against Soekarno. In his role as the head of the Armed Forces History Centre, Notosusanto was also one of the main promoters behind the making of Arifin C. Noer’s propagandist film Pengkhianatan G30S/PKI (The Betrayal of the G30S/PKI) that also imparts this version.5 The film has DOI: 10.4324/9781003297185-1

2  Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI been aired yearly since 1984 and was still being aired by private broadcasters as late as 2022 (while this book was being written). The immediate interpretations of the situation in the West echoed this version and treated the events as a domestic disturbance started by the PKI. The New York Times was particularly enthusiastic about the defeat of the Left in Indonesia but refrained from mentioning the likelihood that the United States played any role in it.6 Likewise, Ted Yates’s documentary film, Indonesia: The Troubled Victory (1967), applauds the change of government by criticising Soekarno’s “Old Order” and praises Soeharto’s “New Order” for its open-door policy to foreign capitalists.7 John Hughes implies in his book End of Soekarno (1968) that the PKI was undoubtedly to blame, and Soekarno had likely consented to the murder of the generals.8 In the same year, the CIA published a report that also blamed the PKI for an attempted coup.9 A scholarly text by Justus M. van der Kroef similarly states that the PKI was to blame.10 In these early foreign accounts, the United States is unanimously depicted as a passive onlooker rather than an active participant in Indonesia’s anti-leftist purge. Benedict Anderson and Ruth McVey argue differently; that is, that the murder of the officers was a result of an internal conflict within the Indonesian army.11 Titled A Preliminary Analysis of the October 1, 1965, Coup in Indonesia (1971), their book was better known for its draft version, known as the Cornell Paper, that was leaked in 1966. Notosusanto published a counter argument in English, assisted in this task by Guy Pauker, a key analyst of Indonesian affairs in the RAND Corporation (known to be a “Cold War watchdog” for the American government), and Ismail Saleh, a military prosecutor.12 The result was a book titled The Coup Attempt of the “September 30 Movement” in Indonesia (1968), which includes the “evidence” from the Extraordinary Military Tribunal and reaffirms the previous claim that the PKI was to blame. Echoing Hughes’s analysis in End of Soekarno, the book also hints that Soekarno condoned the murder of the generals.13 Anderson, who argued differently, was declared a persona non grata and banned from entering Indonesia until 1999 for challenging this version. Indonesia’s Anti-Leftist Grand Narrative A decree of the Provisional People’s Consultative Assembly was passed on July 5, 1966, to rule that “firm measures should be taken towards the Communist Party of Indonesia and also towards their activities to spread CommunistMarxist-Leninist ideology.”14 For the decree to carry weight, its inculcation among the masses was to be accompanied by a grand narrative. Jean-François Lyotard defines a grand narrative as “a narrative that is supposed to legitimate certain historical knowledge and be accepted as truth.”15 A grand narrative can also be described as “a global or totalizing cultural narrative schema which orders and explains knowledge and experience.”16 During the New Order regime, the grand narrative dictated that the regime was good and the PKI evil.

Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI  3 Members of the PKI were invariably called “traitors, devils, and whores (if they were women)” in official army outlets.17 The “Clean Self, Clean Environment” policies also dictated that those who were associated with the PKI or with its affiliates, as well as their immediate families, were banned from studying and from taking up posts in the government and civil service. The media played a key role in continuously inculcating the grand narrative by relentlessly suggesting that the PKI had endangered the nation, but Soeharto saved it, and the family of a communist should not be given place in society either.18,19 A grand narrative is usually accompanied by a “terror” that Lyotard describes as “a fantasy to seize reality.”20 The purpose of the terror is “to colonize or totalize all other language games and their future possibilities under the regime of one language game (e.g., the technocratic language game of efficiency).”21 To complete the cycle of oppression, the terror also includes the silencing of the persecuted party that can be described as follows: This is what a wrong would be: a damage accompanied by the loss of the means to prove the damage. This is the case if the victim is deprived of life, or all of his or her liberties, or of the freedom to make his or her ideas or opinions public, or simply the right to testify to the damage … In all of these cases, to the privation constituted by the damage there is added the impossibility of bringing it to the knowledge of others.22 This scenario applied to Indonesia: during the anti-leftist purge, not only the New Order regime launched nation-wide mass killings, but it also took the voice of the victims, with several survivors still being too afraid to testify after the end of the regime in 1998.23 So strong was the impact of the grand narrative that anti-leftist sentiments still run high after the end of the New Order regime: in 2001, the reburial of alleged communists in the village of Kaloran, East Java, was mobbed.24 In 2014, the popular presidential candidate Joko Widodo was rumoured to be a member of the PKI to sway voters. In 2015, the prestigious Ubud Writers and Readers Festival was forced to cancel three panels discussing the mass killings after the police were tipped off that there would be demonstrations should the sensitive issues be given a segment in the yearly event.25 In 2017, thousands of mobilised Indonesians held protests in the capital, claiming that there was a rise in communism, which forced the incumbent President Joko Widodo to state that he would “trash” the PKI, should it ever rise again, to calm the masses.26 In 2018, a year before another election, the President was again forced to deny the accusation that he was a member of the PKI.27 The accusation was obviously fabricated, as, by the time the PKI was disbanded in 1966, Widodo was only four years old, but an official statement was still necessary to appease the mob. The constant unrest suggests that the Red Scare is still going strong in Indonesia and often becomes a tool to mobilise the masses. The understanding of the left-right political spectrum also remains fuzzy among many Indonesians, with anyone showing any interest in the Left

4  Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI automatically considered a communist. Soekarno, for instance, stated that he was a socialist as opposed to a communist,28 but many of the supporters of PNI, his socialist-leaning political party, were arrested, one of the prominent examples being Pipit Rochijat, who disliked the PKI.29 On April 19, 2001, Magnis Suseno’s book, titled Pemikiran Karl Marx: Dari Sosialisme Utopis ke Perselisihan Revisionisme (Karl Marx’s Thoughts: From Utopian Socialism to Revisionist Discord), was burnt by Muslim hardliners, although it was actually critical of Marxism. Although most Indonesians have since agreed that the New Order regime was corrupt, many still believe that the defunct PKI – and, by faulty generalisation, anyone alleged to be a left-leaning individual – still poses a danger to the country. The Other Versions of the “Failed Coup” In the few years that followed the transition of power from the “Old Order” to the “New Order” government (1966–68), more scholars began proposing other versions of the events. W. F. Wertheim holds Soeharto responsible, and to support his argument suggests that scholars “look in the direction of those who benefited most from the coup.”30 Harold Crouch holds the PKI only partially responsible, and, like Anderson, tends to favour the possibility of internal Army affairs, concluding that “[t]he Army’s claim that it was the PKI … which initiated the movement is not proven in the trials.”31 Wertheim and Crouch do not look further than Soeharto, however, or examine the global power struggles that were taking place behind the scenes under Soeharto. Julie Southwood and Patrick Flanagan, on the other hand, accused the CIA of playing a role in the anti-communist massacre, basing their argument on an article written by a former CIA agent, Ralph McGehee. McGehee reveals that “[t]o conceal its role in the massacre of those innocent people the CIA, in 1968, concocted a false account of what happened (later published by the Agency as a book, Indonesia, 1965: The Coup that Backfired).”32 In a similar vein, Peter Dale Scott mentions “the encouragement and support for military ‘Putschism’ and mass murder which came from the U.S., from the CIA, the military, RAND, the Ford Foundation, and individuals.”33 Like Southwood and Flanagan, Scott backs his arguments with the inside information that McGehee provides about the involvement of the CIA in the attempt to destroy the Left in Indonesia.34 Because of the state’s censorship during the New Order regime, however, no local scholar could publish any analysis within the country that differed from the official version, much less any analysis that might depict the PKI as simply part of the losing side in the Cold War. Nearing the end of Soeharto’s long tenure, scholars became more critical of him and his authoritarian regime. Dewi Fortuna Anwar wrote about human rights abuses under the regime that became major issues in Indonesia’s external economic relations with the West, the country’s ally in the post-Soekarno period, as well as diplomatic measures taken to refurbish the Indonesia’s international image, as the country had become equated to a military junta.35 Soon

Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI  5 after Soeharto stepped down, Ariel Heryanto also wrote about the regime’s crimes against humanity, stating that “the victims of the anti-communist witch-hunts still suffer in silence as a result of the regime’s “grand narrative of the ‘Communist threat.’”36 Both articles refer to the Cold War in their titles, but they focus on what happened in Indonesia after the Cold War; as such, the articles do not discuss the clashes of power between the Western and Eastern blocs in relation to the New Order regime’s initial rise to power. Particularly in the post-authoritarian period, Soeharto and his oppressive regime have often been scrutinised, but the connection between the Cold War and Indonesia’s political upheavals in 1965–66 that saw the country’s political U-turn under the New Order regime to become an ally of the Western bloc was not made automatically.37 More scholars, mostly based outside Indonesia, started investigating the connection. Baskara Wardaya sees what happened in 1965–66 as a product of geopolitical power struggles, arguing that the Cold War policies of the United States towards Indonesia included the ousting of the socialist President Soekarno, the anti-leftist purge, and the installation of a pro-Western bloc government.38 Wardaya points out that several analyses on this subject only discuss the changing of Indonesia’s economic and political orientation after 1965, but not the purge of Soekarno’s government and the Left as part of the policies of the Cold War.39 Similar to Wardaya, John Roosa also discusses the connection between the Cold War and Indonesia’s anti-leftist purge. Roosa observes that Suharto’s attack on the Communists and usurpation of the presidency resulted in a complete reversal of U.S. fortunes in the country. Almost overnight the Indonesian government went from being a fierce voice for Cold War neutrality and anti-imperialism into a quiet, compliant partner of the U.S. world order.40 However, instead of portraying the United States merely as a passive onlooker, Roosa mentions the role of the CIA’s Jakarta station in the campaign against the Left, for example their financing of student groups’ anti-communist demonstrations.41 In addition to declassified documents that show the United States’ knowledge of Indonesia’s mass killings as they were in full swing, Roosa bases his analysis of the CIA’s involvement on McGehee’s article.42 Geoffrey Robinson also dedicates a chapter entitled “Cold War” to highlight foreign involvement in Indonesia’s anti-leftist purge.43 Vincent Bevins, in particular, points out the complicity of the United States in the purge as part of its Cold War policies.44 Wijaya Herlambang, focusing on literature, analyses the role of the CIA-funded Committee for Cultural Freedom (CCF) in shaping the development of Indonesian national culture to be in line with the United States’ political and economic interests in Indonesia.45 Recently, Martijn Eickhoff, Gerry van Klinken, and Geoffrey Robinson also edited a special issue on Indonesia’s mass killings, where “[t]he perspectives in these discussions were often marked by the political antagonisms of the Cold War era, in which

6  Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI the Western world supported the Suharto regime.”46 Meanwhile, Edward S. Herman criticised the Western media, particularly the New York Times, which he claims to have deliberately overlooked Soeharto’s brutal anti-leftist purge that turned Indonesia from Cold War “neutralism” to fervent anti-Communism.47 In the post-authoritarian period, the PKI is still officially held responsible for the alleged “failed coup,” but there are differing interpretations within academia. One strand of research investigates Soeharto’s involvement, which means that the change of governments in 1965–66 was a matter of internal army affairs. The other strand looks into the involvement of the Western bloc, particularly the United States, which means that the political upheavals were not merely domestic affairs, but a direct impact of the Cold War. In the latter, the PKI is depicted as the losing side in the global power struggle between communism and capitalism. The previous strand is more commonly accepted, particularly in Indonesia, and the Cold War is not often discussed in relation to the defeat of the Left in the country. The Cold War in Literature: The Redefinition of Cosmopolitanism Interpretations of what happened in 1965–66 are less divided in contemporary Indonesian literature, as opposed to academia: critically acclaimed literary texts portray both the Left and the executor of the Left in Indonesia (that is, the New Order regime) negatively and without alluding to the Cold War.48 Back at the peak of the Cold War, both the Western and Eastern blocs’ cultural politics attempted to control the direction of culture because it can become a space for spreading ideologies.49 After the defeat of the Left in Indonesia, the direction of Indonesian literature took a sharp turn from social realism to occidental cosmopolitanism based on the notion of universal human rights.50 Several postcolonial scholars are however sceptical about the revival of the idea, fearing it could eventually result in Western cultural dominance.51 Similar reservations had previously been aired by Indonesian scholars affiliated with the left-leaning Lekra (lit. the Institute of People’s Culture) at the peak of the Cold War. Known in Indonesia in the 1960s as universal humanism, the idea of cosmopolitanism has been largely based on Western liberalism and, within the context of the Cold War, represents the ideology of the Western bloc.52 The idea was famously embraced by a group of artists (mostly writers) who signed the “Manifesto Kebudayaan” (lit. Cultural Manifesto) in 1963, in which they pledged allegiance to universal humanism and rejected social realism.53 The Cultural Manifesto did not go down well with left-leaning artists, and was later banned by Soekarno’s socialist government.54 Pramoedya Ananta Toer, reflecting Lekra’s view, claimed in his literary column Lentera that the signatories of the Cultural Manifesto acted as agents of Western neocolonialism.55 Pramoedya associated the signatories with Western liberalism, deeming them “a small group of scholars who think that Western European cultural revolution should become the spirit of our Cultural Revolution. The product of this liberal democracy cannot be developed in Indonesia, which absolutely rejects liberalism.”56

Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI  7 After the defeat of the Left in Indonesia, the tables were turned, and the direction of Indonesian literature has aligned with that of the Western bloc under the influence of local leading intellectuals who supported liberal arts, such as Goenawan Mohamad, W. S. Rendra, and Umar Kayam.57 The term “universal humanism” has gradually ceased to be used, but the idea remains in contemporary Indonesian literature and, as mentioned above, transforms into the idea of the cosmopolitanism similarly based on universal human rights. Mohamad, one of the signatories of the Cultural Manifesto, recently defines cosmopolitanism as the erasure of imaginary borders between the East and the West, claiming that the border issue is merely “a narrative strategy of narcissism at the border of self and non-self, of ‘us’ and ‘them’.”58 Mohamad’s concept of cosmopolitanism can be found in Laksmi Pamuntjak’s Amba (2012) and Leila Chudori’s Pulang (2012), two novels that speak against the “us vs. them” mentality and that Mohamad endorses. He further suggests that a literary text can be deemed cosmopolitan if it evokes the notion of openness among its readers.59 Bambang Sugiharto also emphasises the importance of openness, and proposes that, to become a cosmopolitan, “one has to have a certain reflexive distance from the homeland.”60 Both Mohamad’s and Sugiharto’s definitions are informed by the theory of Amanda Anderson, who argues that the key element of cosmopolitanism is a reasonable “detachment” from one’s roots, since “[c]osmopolitanism endorses reflective distance from one’s cultural affiliations, a broad understanding of other cultures and customs, and a belief in universal humanity.”61 This definition is yet to be fully reflected in contemporary Indonesian literature, as many literary texts that carry the motto of universal humanity still show either obvious or subtle antileftist sentiments and only speak for a select group of – instead of all – victims of the anti-leftist purge. In other words, the idea of cosmopolitanism that is depicted in contemporary literary texts to promote tolerance does not extend said tolerance, even in the post-authoritarian period, to people who embrace left-wing politics. The absence of tolerance in the realm of literature, with the Left already non-existent in Indonesia, suggests a strong legacy of the Cold War in cultural aspects, particularly in the literary world. This book suggests that literature is crucial not only in observing social changes, but also in assisting said changes. A few scholars have analysed selected literary texts with anti-PKI sentiments and justifications of the 1965–66 mass killings. Paulus Sarwoto, focusing on Umar Kayam’s novels and short stories, argues that Kayam’s texts support the regime’s anti-leftist grand narrative.62 Yoseph Taum, analysing literary texts set in 1965 that were published between 1966 and 1998, argues that there was resistance against the grand narrative nearing the end of the New Order regime.63 Wijaya Herlambang, focusing on short stories in Harry Aveling’s collection Gestapu (1975), discusses two main issues: the legitimisation of violence experienced by the communists in the short stories as well as the United States’ cultural campaign to combat communism within Indonesian intellectual and artistic communities. Herlambang also analyses Noorca M. Massardi’s novel September (2006), classing it

8  Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI as a resistance literature for implying, using metonymy, that the alleged failed coup was perpetrated by Soeharto, who in the novel ends up killing himself and leaving the incumbent President Soekresno in peace.64 David Hill, focusing on the return of former tapol into the literary stage in the 1980s, such as Pramoedya Ananta Toer, Putu Oka Soekanta, and Hersri Setiawan, argues that their writings promised “a fresh beginnings in the literary life of Jakarta.”65 As opposed to these studies, this book provides a complete analytical overview of prominent literary texts from each decade since 1966, comprising both popular and serious literature, and highlights the patterns that connect them, namely criticisms of the Left and lack of resistance against the regime’s grand narrative regarding the anti-leftist purge. Complementing the findings of the above-mentioned studies, this book argues that the majority of post-1965 literary texts (not only Kayam’s) support the New Order regime’s anti-leftist grand narrative. This book also argues that, in terms of the anti-leftist purge, the impact of the emergence of former tapol on Indonesia’s literary stage has been minimal: Pramoedya’s critically acclaimed Buru tetralogy, for instance, focuses its criticism on the colonial period and does not address the anti-leftist purge, whereas the writings of other former tapol only discuss the wrongly-accused individuals or the families of a leftist that fall victim to the “Clean Environment” policy. Chapter 2 discusses short stories from the first decade of the New Order regime that have become a blueprint for prominent Indonesian novels addressing the anti-leftist purge. These short stories, applauded for carrying a humanitarian spirit, encourage sympathy for non-leftists who fall victim to the purge but also condone the murder of leftists. Chapter 3 discusses popular novels from the New Order period that at first glance seem to courageously address the taboo topic of the mass killings, but that on closer inspection are complicit with the grand narrative of the regime. Chapter 4 discusses critically-acclaimed novels that belong to sastra serius (serious literature) and appropriate wayang – a cultural heritage that has often been politicised – to address the mass killings. These novels portray persecuted cosmopolitan individuals, but do not address the persecution of those embracing left-wing politics; they also criticise the Left, although more moderately than the short stories from the first decade of the New Order regime. Chapter 5 discusses short stories and excerpts from novels mainly written by former tapol, comprising members of Lekra or the PKI, but that, despite the status of the writers, do not question the persecution of real leftists. Chapter 6 discusses serious and popular novels from the post-authoritarian period that either speak only against the “Clean Environment” policy or still show real leftists in a negative light. Chapter 7 concludes that, in Indonesia, the language of literature conspires with the language of power. There are littleknown novels written by individuals closely connected to the members of the PKI and depict the latter in a different, more humane light, but are caught in a vicious circle: these texts might help in loosening the grip of the Red Scare, but they cannot easily find their way to many Indonesians, who have

Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI  9 been conditioned by the grand narrative to reject these kinds of “taboo” narratives.66 A prolific Indonesian writer, Seno Gumira Adjidarma, stated at the end of the New Order regime that, “when journalism is silenced, literature must speak.”67 With a few exceptions, however, many literary texts espousing the idea of cosmopolitanism speak only for individuals who were unfairly persecuted for being tenuously related to, manipulated by, or mistaken for a leftist. Meanwhile, the Cold War is not depicted to have had a direct impact on the turnabout of Indonesian politics in 1965–66, implying that the political turmoil in Indonesia was caused by the PKI rather than geopolitical power struggles. The constant criticism of the Left in literary texts as well as the reticence with which these texts address the victims of the anti-leftist purge in its entirety – that is, by excluding real leftists – evidence the strong legacy of the Cold War in Indonesian literature after 1966. Notes 1 The term “anti-leftist” is preferred in this book, because the purge in 1965–66 and the discrimination that followed targeted all left-leaning nationals, not only communists. 2 Robert Cribb, The Indonesian Killings 1965–1966: Studies from Java and Bali (Clayton: Monash University, 1990), 42. See also: Katharine McGregor, “The Indonesian Killings of 1965–1966,” Science Po, August 4, 2009. https://www. sciencespo.fr/mass-violence-war-massacre-resistance/en/document/indonesiankillings-1965-1966.html. Major General Sarwo Edhie, who supervised the pogrom, claims that three million people were killed. Estimates of the number of deaths range from 100,000 to three million people. 3 The autopsy report of the officers did not indicate torture. See: Benedict Anderson, “How Did the Generals Die?” Indonesia no. 43 (April 1987): 109–134. 4 D. N. Aidit, as usual, is named as the mastermind of the operation. To mark the 57th anniversary of the fateful event, CNN Indonesia, for example, stated that “the [G30S PKI] movement was spearheaded by the last chairman of the PKI, namely Dipa Nusantara Aidit or DN [sic] Aidit. [Peristiwa ini dimotori oleh pemimpin terakhir PKI yakni Dipa Nusantara Aidit atau DN Aidit].” “Sejarah dan Kronologi G30S PKI,” CNN Indonesia, September 30, 2022. A year before, Kompas similarly stated that “[Lt Col] Untung testified that the chairman of the Communist Party of Indonesia (PKI) D. N. Aidit gave him the order to delay the operation [to murder the generals] to October 1, so that the troops would be ready and fully equipped” [“Kata Untung, Ketua Central Comitte [sic] Partai Komunis Indonesia (PKI) DN (sic) Aidit memerintahkan agar pelaksanaannya ditunda menjadi 1 Oktober sampai pasukan siap dan lengkap”]. Ahmad Naufal Dzulfaroh, “Sejarah Peristiwa G30S/PKI,” Kompas, September 30, 2021. 5 Katharine McGregor, “Nugroho Notosusanto: The Legacy of a Historian in the Service of an Authoritarian Regime,” in Mary Zurbuchen (ed.), Beginning to Remember: The Past in Indonesia’s Present (Singapore: University of Singapore Press, 2005), 209–232. 6 An article that was published days after the PKI was accused of murdering the generals states that “[t]he Johnson administration believes that a dramatic new opportunity has developed both for anti-Communist Indonesians and for United States policies.” Max Frankel, “U.S. Is Heartened by Red Setback in Indonesia,” New York Times, October 11, 1965. Another article, published at the peak of the

10  Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI mass killings, describes the anti-communist purge in Indonesia as “hopeful political developments.” James Reston, “A Gleam of Light in Asia,” New York Times, June 19, 1966. 7 “But bad as things are, one positive fact is known. Indonesia has a fabulous potential wealth in natural resources, and the New Order wants it exploited, so they’re returning the private properties, expropriated by Soekarno’s regime.” Indonesia: A Troubled Victory, directed by Ted Yates (NBC, 1967), 0:44:34. The film was aired by the NBC News in the United States and given the Best TV Reporting from Abroad Award. 8 “There is a possibility that Soekarno and [Brigadier General] Supardjo actually talked on September 29. After the generals were killed, it was to Soekarno that Supardjo hastened to report. Apparently at no time did Supardjo fear that Soekarno might order him arrested or punished for his action. Supardjo’s confidence was justified, for the President’s reaction was mild, perhaps even congratulatory …” John Hughes, End of Soekarno: A Coup that Misfired: A Purge that Ran Wild (London: Angus & Robertson, 1968), 111. Hughes was the first American correspondent sent to Jakarta to cover the Extraordinary Military Tribunal against the members of the PKI and military officers who were accused of orchestrating the failed coup, such as Lieutenant Colonel Untung and Brigadier General Supardjo. He was later awarded the Pulitzer Prize for his coverage. 9 Helen Louise Hunter, Indonesia, 1965: The Coup that Backfired (Washington, Central Intelligence Agency: 2007). The book is based on the CIA report that was declassified and approved for release in 2007. 10 “As is generally known, on 30 September 1965, there occurred in Djakarta and a portion of central Java an abortive coup d’état, generally called Gestapu by acronym-­minded Indonesians … and involving dissident military and elements of the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) and its front groups.” Justus van der Kroef, “Indonesia’s ‘Gestapu’: The View from Moscow and Peking.” Australian Journal of Politics and History 14, no. 2 (August 1968): 163. 11 “Untung repeatedly stressed that the September 30th Movement was purely and simply an internal Army affair (as indeed it was) …” (emphasis mine). Benedict Anderson and Ruth McVey, A Preliminary Analysis of the October 1, 1965 Coup in Indonesia (New York: Cornell University, 1971), 27. 2 Katharine McGregor, History in Uniform: Military Ideology and the Construction of 1 Indonesia’s Past (Singapore, National University of Singapore Press, 2007), 66. 13 “General Supardjo came to report the actions of the ‘September 30 Movement’ to the President. The President’s reaction was noncommittal. It is certain that he did not condemn the events of the previous night, nor did he order that the abducted generals be brought to him.” Nugroho Notosusanto, The Coup Attempt of the “September 30 Movement” in Indonesia (Jakarta: Pusat Sejarah ABRI, 1968), 39–40. 14 Ketetapan MPRS No.XXV/MPRS/1966 Tahun 1966. www.hukumonline.com / pusatdata/download/lt50768aac11ee6/node/lt50768a41ad5ab. 5 Jean-François Lyotard, The Postmodern Condition, trans. Geoffrey Bennington and 1 Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: Minnesota University Press, 1984), xxiv. 16 John Stephens and Robyn McCallum, Retelling Stories, Framing Culture: Traditional Story and Metanarratives in Children’s Literature (London and New York: Routledge, 1998), 6. 17 Geoffrey Robinson, “Down to the Very Roots: The Indonesian Army’s Role in the Mass Killings of 1965–66.” Journal of Genocide Research 19, no. 4 (December 2017), 277. 18 An example of how state coercion was conveyed through the print media is shown in an advice column of the weekly journal Penjebar Semangat. An anonymous reader turned to an “agony aunt” after his fiancée, upon learning that his father was allegedly involved with the PKI, called off their engagement. The agony aunt,

Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI  11 armed with a law degree, approved the fiancée’s decision to break up with a family member of a communist, and then concluded his advice by reiterating the regime’s grand narrative, that “[t]he present government is a good, enlightened one. It is not brutal and oppressive. If the Communists had gained power, you may be sure they would have claimed many more victims among the people […] but the Lord God kept Indonesia safe.” “Politik Cinta,” Penjebar Semangat, December 6, 1989, quoted from “The Politics of Love,” Inside Indonesia no. 11 (August 1987), 35. 19 Recent examples of academic texts how media played a key role in continuously inculcating the New Order’s grand narrative are Saskia Wieringa, “The Women and the Generals: Unraveling a Myth of Sexual Perversion,” Archipel no. 99 (2020): 23–27; Ariel Heryanto, Identity and Pleasure: The Politics of Indonesian Screen Culture. (Singapore and Kyoto: NUS Press and Kyoto, 2014); Barbara Hatley, “Recalling and Representing Cold War Conflict and Its Haryanto Aftermath in Contemporary Indonesian Film and Theater,” in Tony Day and Maya Liem (eds.), Cultures at War: The Cold War and Cultural Expression in Southeast Asia (New York: Cornell University Press, 2010), 265–284; Katherine McGregor, History in Uniform: Military Ideology and the Construction of the Indonesian Past (Singapore: NUS Press, 2007). 20 Jean F. Lyotard, Postmodern Condition, 67. 1 Ibid. 2 22 Jean F. Lyotard, The Differend: Phrases in Dispute, trans. Georges van den Abbeele (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988), 5. 23 “Two exiles who live in the Netherlands testified anonymously from behind a screen, claiming ‘continuing concerns for their own safety or those of their families even after fifty years of exile’.” Aboeprijadi Santoso and Gerry van Klinken, “Genocide Finally Enters Public Discourse: The International People’s Tribunal 1965.” Journal of Genocide Research 19, no. 4 (December 2017): 601. 24 The details of the much-cited incidents can be found in Ariel Heryanto, State Terrorism and Political Identity in Indonesia: Fatally Belonging (London and New York: Routledge, 2006), 2; Katherine McGregor, “Heads from the North: Transcultural Memorialization of the 1965 Indonesian Killings in the National Gallery of Australia,” in Katherine McGregor, Jess Melvin, and Annie Pohlman (eds.), The Indonesian Genocide of 1965: Causes, Dynamics and Legacies (London: Palgrave, 2018), 246; Geoffrey Robinson, The Killing Season: A History of the Indonesian Massacres, 1965–66 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019), 264. 25 “Notice Regarding Select Festival Program Changes.” The Ubud Writers and Readers Festival, October 23, 2015. https://www.ubudwritersfestival.com/ notice-regarding-select-festival-program-changes. 26 “If the PKI arises, just trash it” [“Misalnya PKI nongol, gebuk saja”], Wisnu Nugroho, “Jokowi: Kalau PKI Nongol, Gebuk Saja,” Kompas, May 17, 2017. 27 “I was born in ’61, I was four years old, a toddler. Was there any PKI toddler?” [“Saya lahir tahun ‘61, umur saya 4 tahun, masih balita. Masa ada PKI balita?”] Julnis Firmansyah, “Baru Lahir Dituduh PKI,” Tempo, January 26, 2019. 28 “I became a socialist. Not a communist. I did not become a communist. I did not even become a camouflaged Communist. I have never become a communist. There are still people who think that Socialism is equal to Communism.” Cindy Adams, Sukarno: An Autobiography (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1965), 75. 29 For a detailed analysis of Rochijat’s anti-communist writings, see Chapter 5. 30 Willem F. Wertheim, “Soeharto and the Untung Coup: The Missing Link.” Journal of Contemporary Asia 1 (Winter 1970): 52. 31 Harold Crouch, “Another Look at the Indonesian ‘Coup’.” Indonesia 15 (1973): 18. 32 Ralph McGehee, “The CIA,” quoted in Julie Southwood and Patrick Flanagan, Indonesia: Law, Propaganda, and Terror (London: Zed Press, 1983), 14.

12  Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI 33 Peter Dale Scott, “The United States and the Overthrow of Soekarno, 1965–1967.” Pacific Affairs 58, no. 2 (Summer 1985): 245. 34 “The Agency seized upon this opportunity [Soeharto’s response to Gestapu] and set out to destroy the P.K.I.” Ralph McGehee, “The CIA,” quoted in Peter Dale Scott, “The United States,” 261–262. 35 “Formerly most of the important ambassadorial posts were reserved for senior military officers. Lately, however, these positions are given to senior technocrats, career diplomats, and other prominent civilian leaders, including journalists.” Dewi Fortuna Anwar, “Indonesia’s Foreign Policy after the Cold War.” Southeast Asian Affairs (March 1994): 162. See also: Dewi Fortuna Anwar, “Beneficiary of the Cold War: Soeharto and the New Order in Indonesia: 1966–1970,” in Malcolm Murfett (ed.), Cold War: Southeast Asia (Singapore: Marshall Cavendish Editions, 2012), 295–321; Dewi Fortuna Anwar, “The Cold War and Its Impact on Indonesia: Domestic Politics and Foreign Policy,” in Albert Lau (ed.), Southeast Asia and the Cold War (Oxford: Routledge, 2012), 133–150. These articles are profoundly informative about Indonesia’s domestic policies after the Cold War. 36 Ariel Heryanto, “Where Communism Never Dies: Violence, Trauma and Narration in the Last Cold War Capitalist Authoritarian State.” International Journal of Cultural Studies 2, no. 2 (1999): 152. Heryanto briefly mentions the Cold War in this article: “As I mentioned in passing, New Order authoritarianism is a product of a globalized power relationship, implicating the Indonesian political elite, its domestic victims, as well the victors of the Second World War and the Cold War.” Ibid., 155. When analysing the New Order regime’s anti-leftist grand narrative, Heryanto again only briefly mentions the Cold War, arguing that “[t]he state-sponsored project of ‘Development’ attracted enormous inflows of foreign aid and investment. Backed by the Western bloc of the Cold War divide, the state project yielded sustained economic growth that was enthusiastically applauded by the World Bank …” Ariel Heryanto, State Terrorism, 28. 37 The historian Asvi Warman Adam makes a similar observation in his review of Kerstin Beise’s thesis, which discusses 22 texts from 1965 to 2001 about Soekarno’s possible involvement in the murder of the generals but does not include the Cold War: “Only the domestic policies are described. The Cold War is not mentioned at all, even though this is important to explain the theories about the foreign/international involvements in the purge of the PKI” [“Apa yang digambarkan hanya politik dalam negeri. Tidak disinggung sama sekali tentang suasana Perang Dingin, padahal ini penting untuk menjelaskan teori keterlibatan asing/pihak internasional dalam penghancuran PKI”]. Asvi Warman Adam, Was Bung Karno Murdered Three Times? [In Indonesian] (Jakarta: Kompas, 2010), 107. 38 Baskara Wardaya, Cold War Shadow: United States Policy toward Indonesia, 1953– 1963 (Jogjakarta: Galang Press, 2007). 39 “While Gaddis excellently summarised his observations on US Cold War policies in Asia and Simpson brilliantly described the important role of the US in the changing of Indonesia’s economic and political orientation, neither discussed the impact of the purge on the Indonesian government and the victims of the purge.” Baskara Wardaya, “The Long Shadow of the Cold War: The Cold War Policies of the United States towards Asia and Their Impact on Indonesia.” International Quarterly of Asian Studies 52, no. 3–4 (November 2021): 333. 40 John Roosa, Pretext for Mass Murder: The September 30th Movement and Suharto’s Coup d’Etat in Indonesia (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2006), 13. 41 Roosa points out the role of Hugh Tovar, the CIA station chief in Malaysia and Indonesia in the 1960s, in the campaign against the Left in Indonesia, mentioning that “[i]n [Hugh Tovar’s] 1994 article he dismissed allegations that the CIA had given money to student groups … The declassification of documents has not been kind to Tovar.” Ibid., 297, 299.

Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI  13 42 “An ex-CIA agent specializing in Southeast Asia, Ralph McGehee, has claimed that this published report [Indonesia, 1965: The Coup that Backfired] was meant to mislead.” Ibid, 279. “The CIA was ‘extremely proud’ and recommended it ‘as a model for future operations’.” Ralph McGehee, “The CIA,” quoted in John Roosa, Buried Histories: The Anticommunist Massacres of 1965–1966 in Indonesia (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2020), 27. 43 In the Cold War chapter, Robinson states that “by 1965, there were strong domestic forces, especially in the army high command, whose interests were congruent with, if not always identical to, those of the United States and its allies. And on the basis of the evidence presented here, we can be certain that those powers did what they could to provide such forces with a convenient opportunity to act and assurances that they might do so with impunity.” Geoffrey Robinson, The Killing Season, 117. 44 In the Introduction of his book, Bevins states that in 1962, “[Indonesia], one of the largest [country] in the world, had been pulled into the global battle between capitalism and communism,” and that “the events of 1965–66 were such a complete success for Washington. No US soldiers died, and no one at home was ever in danger.” Vincent Bevins, The Jakarta Method: Washington’s Anticommunist Crusade and the Mass Murder Program that Shaped Our World (London: Hachette UK, 2020), 1–8. 45 See: Wijaya Herlambang, Cultural Violence: Its Practice and Challenge in Indonesia (Düsseldorf: VDM Publishing, 2011). 46 See: Martijn Eickhoff, Gerry van Klinken, and Geoffrey Robinson, “Introduction, 1965 Today: Living with the Indonesian Massacres.” Journal of Genocide Research 19, no. 4 (December 2017): 449–464. 47 “But for the New York Times and its media cohorts, Suharto’s killings in East Timor – and the huge slaughter of 1965–66 – are not crimes and do not call for retribution or any kind of justice to the victims … This was constructive and benign terror carried out by a good genocidist.” Edward S. Herman, “Good and Bad Genocide: Double Standards in Coverage of Suharto and Pol Pot,” Newsletter in Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting, September/October 1998. www.thirdworldtraveler.com/ Terrorism/GoodBadGenocide.html. 48 Two Danish novels written by Peer Holm Jørgensen, The Forgotten Massacre (2006) and The Missing History (2015), are an exception, as they portray the CIA’s involvement in the Indonesia’s mass killings. They have been translated into Indonesian but receive no publicity, so that they are little known in Indonesia. As foreign novels, they are beyond the scope of this study. 49 One of the first scholars to highlight the cultural aspects of the Cold War is Frances Stonor Saunders; she argues that “the Cold War [is] a psychological contest, of the manufacturing of consent by ‘peaceful’ methods, of the use of propaganda to erode hostile positions. And, as the opening sallies in Berlin amply demonstrated, the ‘operational weapon’ was to be culture. The cultural Cold War was on.” Frances Stonor Saunders, The Cultural Cold War: The CIA and the World of Arts and Letters (London: Granta Books, 1999), 11. 50 Originally, the term derives from the Greek kosmopolitēs (lit. “citizen of the world”). In ca. 300 BCE the Stoics introduced the idea that “one belongs to the entire world.” Daniele Conversi, “Nationalism and Cosmopolitanism,” in Athena S. Leoussi and Anthony D. Smith (eds.), Encyclopaedia of Nationalism (Piscataway: Transaction Publishers, 2001), 34. The idea has re-emerged often throughout history; in the Middle Age, Dante wrote that “the world is our fatherland,” Dante Alighieri, Monarchy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 42. In the Age of Enlightenment, Montesquieu stated that “if [he] knew something useful to [his] fatherland which were prejudicial to Europe, or something which were useful to Europe and prejudicial to mankind, [he] would consider it a crime.” Gaston

14  Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI Montesquieu, Pensées et Fragments Inédits (Bordeaux: G. Gounouilhon, 1899), 15. Although their ideas are not referred to as cosmopolitanism, they strongly resonate with the current definition of the term that emphasises the aspect of universal humanity.   Martha Nussbaum spearheaded the current debate of cosmopolitanism by arguing that a citizen’s primary allegiance is “to the community of human beings in the entire world.” Martha Nussbaum, “Patriotism and Cosmopolitanism.” Boston Review 19, no. 5 (October 1994): 3. The purpose of cosmopolitanism, Nussbaum concludes, is “the love of humanity.” Ibid. Jürgen Habermas suggests a global political order based on human rights to achieve “a cosmopolitan condition.” Jürgen Habermas, The Divided West (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2006), 109. In a similar vein, Robert Fine mentions the creation of “human rights culture” from a cosmopolitan point of view. Robert Fine, “Cosmopolitanism and Human Rights: Radicalism in a Global Age.” Metaphilosophy 40, no. 1 (January 2009): 20. Catherine Lu similarly argues that “cosmopolitanism is based on the acknowledgement of some notion of common humanity that translates ethically into an idea of shared or common moral duties toward others by virtue of this humanity.” Catherine Lu, “The One and Many Faces of Cosmopolitanism.” The Journal of Political Philosophy 8, no. 2 (2000): 245. More recently, David Held and Pietro Maffettone encourage people to link cosmopolitanism with a “commitment to basic human rights.” David Held and Pietro Maffettone, “Moral Cosmopolitanism and Democratic Values.” Global Policy, London School of Economics and Political Science 8 (October 2017): 54.   Meanwhile, the question of privilege being the point where scholars unanimously agree about how not to define cosmopolitanism. Pheng Cheah reminds that the term is often associated with transnational mobility made possible by privileged backgrounds, as “[i]t is unclear how many of [transnational] migrants feel that they belong to a world.” Pheng Cheah, “Introduction Part II: The C ­ osmopolitical – Today,” in Pheng Cheah and Bruce Robbins (eds.), Cosmopolitics: Thinking and Feeling Beyond the Nation (Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press, 1998), 37. Bruce Robbins also argues that a “cosmopolitan” is still superficially associated with “the image of a privileged person […] who can claim to be a ‘citizen of the world’ by virtue of independent means, high-tech tastes, and globetrotting mobility.” Bruce Robbins, “Comparative Cosmopolitanism: Third World and Post-Colonial Issues.” Social Text, no. 31/32 (1992): 171. Likewise, David Hollinger points out that the term “cosmopolitan” has been often bestowed on “a well-travelled character probably lacking in substance.” David Hollinger, PostEthnic America: Beyond Multiculturalism (New York: Basic Books, 2005), 89. Ulf Hannerz similarly remarks that cosmopolitanism often equals “more formal education, more travel, more leisure, as well as material resources to allow the cultivation of a knowledge of the diversity of cultural forms.” Ulf Hannerz, “Two Faces of Cosmopolitanism: Culture and Politics.” Dinámicas Interculturales 7 (June 2006): 16. 51 Timothy Brennan warns that “cosmopolitanism’s original impulse has begun to decay, becoming in many cases a sort of politico-exotic.” Timothy Brennan, Cosmopolitan Now: At Home in the World (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1997), 205. Bruce Robbins regrets the emergence of rootless cosmopolitans and “freefloating intellectuals” who blindly endorse universal civilisation but are oblivious of national traditions. Bruce Robbins, “Comparative Cosmopolitanism,” 172. Homi Bhabha speaks out against the sort of global cosmopolitanism which, he claims, “readily celebrates a world of plural cultures and peoples located at the periphery, so long as they produce healthy profit margins within metropolitan societies.” Homi Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London and New York: Routledge, 2004), iv. Gerard Delanty warns that cosmopolitanism might become “linked with the universalism of modern western thought and with political designs aimed at world

Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI  15 governance.” Gerard Delanty, “The Cosmopolitan Imagination: Critical Cosmopolitanism and Social Theory.” The British Journal of Sociology 57, no. 1 (February 2006): 26. Ackbar Abbas also argues that “cosmopolitanism by and large meant being versed in Western ways, and the vision of ‘one world’ culture was only a sometimes unconscionable, euphemism for ‘First World’ culture.” Ackbar Abbas, “Cosmopolitan De-Scriptions: Shanghai and Hong Kong.” Public Culture 12, no. 3 (2000): 771. Similarly, Walter Mignolo describes the revival of cosmopolitanism as “willingly or not a project of Western expansion [and] global designs imagined and discussed within Western Europe and the United States for the rest of the world.” Walter Mignolo, “Cosmopolitan Localism: A Decolonial Shifting of the Kantian’s Legacies.” Localities 1 (2011): 13. 52 Wijaya Herlambang elaborates on the term “liberalism” within the context of Indonesian political developments in the 1950s and 1960s, explaining that it is used to describe “the political movement from the right-wing elements to combat communism.” Wijaya Herlambang, Cultural Violence, 4. 53 The signatories of Cultural Manifesto stated the following: “[W]e accept ‘universal humanism,’ if it means that culture and art are not merely national … The belief we proclaim is that men are good creatures, and so our ideal is to build a society heavily disposed towards humanity (which is good).” On the other hand, they “reject socialist realism in that sense, where its basis is the concept of politics above aesthetics.” The signatories deemed socialist realism a threat to culture because it is “a direct continuation of Joseph Stalin’s cultural concept. In the thirties, with the development of modern fetishism, with Stalin as a fetish, an object of worship apparently incorporating a mystic power, Russian culture was subjected to a terrifying threat.” Cultural Manifesto, quoted in and trans. by Keith Foulcher, “A survey of events surrounding Manikebu. The struggle for cultural and intellectual freedom in Indonesian literature.” Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 125, no. 4 (1969): 460–465. 54 Lekra’s problem with the Cultural Manifesto is what they believe to be the latter’s affiliation with the cultures of the Western bloc; in other words: “[Cultural Manifesto] showed, from the Lekra point of view, that the dangers identified as inherent in ‘universal humanism’ were a potent force still in the right-wing cultural politics now in open conflict with the direction of state ideology.” Keith Foulcher, “Politics and Literature in Independent. Indonesia: The View from the Left.” Southeast Asian Journal of Social Science 15, no. 1 (1979): 92. 55 “The Manikebuists [signatories of the Cultural Manifesto] appeared precisely at a time when we were aiming at the imperialists–neo-colonialists as targets. They appeared in our line of fire … As such, they weakened our firepower, because we must pass the Manikebuists first” [“Kaum Manikebu muntjul djustru pada saat kita sedang mengarahkan sasaran tembakan pada kaum imperialis-neokolonialis sebagai titik-pusat tembak. Mereka muntjul pada garis tembak kita … Dengan demikian mereka melemahkan daja tembak kita pada titik pusat kaum imperialis-kolonialis karena terpaksa harus menembusi dulu kaum Manikebu”]. Pramoedya Ananta Toer, “Kita Menolak Manikebu [We Refuse Manikebu],” Bintang Timur, April 12, 1964. 56 “Ada segolongan ketjil sardjana jang mengira, bahwa revolusi kebudajaan ala Eropa Baratlah jang harus mendjadi alur bagi Revolusi Kebudajaan kita. Produk dari demokrasi liberal ini tidak akan bisa dikembangkan di alam Indonesia jang menolak liberalisme setjara mutlak!” Pramoedya Ananta Toer, “Penilaian Atas Situasi dan Kondisi Revolusi Kebudajaan Kita Dewasa Ini [Assessment of Situation and Condition of Our Current Cultural Revolution],” Bintang Timur, June 14, 1964. 57 Wijaya Herlambang describes Goenawan Mohamad as “one of the most influential figures in the development of Western liberalism within Indonesian contemporary culture.” Wijaya Herlambang, Cultural Violence, 51.

16  Introduction: The Cold War and the PKI 58 Goenawan Mohamad, “Of Borders, Death, and Footprints,” in Bambang Sugiharto and Roy Voragen (eds.), Overlapping Territories: Asian Voices on Culture and Civilization (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholar Publishing, 2011), 22. 59 Mohamad examines two novels from two different periods that he deems carry a cosmopolitan message; they are Kurban Said’s Ali and Nino (1937) and Orhan Pamuk’s Snow (2002), arguing that individuals like Ali, the “self-conscious Asian” in Ali and Nino, do not belong to the present, because “[t]hey are made so committed to an idea of ‘difference,’ but so enthralled by their respective rootedness, that their attitude towards the other is marked almost by total indifference.” Mohamad concludes the essay with a remark of his own detachment from a binding sense of rootedness: “Thus is my own rootedness not altogether transparent to me. I am attached to it as something I cannot break away from, but it is also something that cannot completely define me.” Goenawan Mohamad, “Of Borders, Death, and Footprints,” 36–37. 60 Bambang Sugiharto, “Cosmopolitanism: Between Cosmopolis and Chaosmopolis,” in Overlapping Territories, 48. 61 Amanda Anderson, Way We Argue Now (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), 72. 62 See: Paulus Sarwoto, “Interrogating Indonesian New Order’s Narrative of Gestapu: The Leftist Nobles and the Indonesian Communist Party in Umar Kayam’s Stories.” Kritika Kultura 29 (2017): 101–125. 63 See: Yoseph Yapi Taum, Literature and Politics: Representations of the 1965 Tragedy Under the New Order (Yogyakarta: Sanata Dharma University Press, 2015); Wijaya Herlambang, Cultural Violence. 64 Massardi uses anagrams and puns to disguise the identity of the novel’s characters in real life; for instance, the character name “Theo Rosa” is an anagram of “Soeharto,” while “Soekresno” is a pun on “Soekarno.” The alleged coup took place on September 10, earning it the name “Gestapul” (instead of Gestapu). The year of the coup is implied to be decades after 1965, signalled by the presence of advanced technology, such as internet. For a critical analysis of the novel, see Wijaya Herlambang, Cultural Violence. 65 David T. Hill, Who’s Left? Indonesian Literature in the Early 1980s (Melbourne: Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, Monash University, 1984), 38. 66 They are, for example, Ibarruri Aidit’s Roman Biografis Ibarruri Putri Alam, Anak Sulung D.N. Aidit (lit. biographical novel of Ibarruri Putri Alam, eldest child of D.N. Aidit, 2006) and Soe Tjen Marching’s Dari Dalam Kubur (lit. from beyond the grave, 2021). See: Silvia Mayasari-Hoffert, “Marginalised Women in Authoritarian Indonesia: Novels as Fictional Intervention,” in Samraghni Post-­ Bonnerjee (ed.), Subaltern Women’s Narratives: Strident Voices, Dissenting Bodies (London and New York: Routledge, 2021). 67 Seno Gumira Ajidarma, Ketika Jurnalisme Dibungkam Sastra Harus Bicara (Yogyakarta: Yayasan Benteng Budaya: 1997), 1.

2 The Anti-PKI Short Stories Blueprint for Humanist Novels

Anti-PKI Short Stories in Gestapu: 1966–69 This chapter starts with the analysis of four anti-PKI short stories published between 1966 and 1969 in the anti-leftist literary magazines Sastra and Horison.1 The selected short stories are identical in plot, in which they attempt to combine anti-leftist sentiments and universal humanism. They were later published in Harry Aveling’s first short story collection titled Gestapu: Indonesian Short Stories on the Abortive Communist Coup of 30th September 1965 (1975) that depicts the period of Indonesia’s mass killings. The stories in this collection are taken from a list that was drawn and published in an article by Satyagraha Hoerip.2 Being one of the supporters of the Cultural Manifesto, Hoerip is known for being against the PKI, which can also be discerned in said article that supports the grand narrative of the New Order regime. Hoerip opens the article as follows: I am certain that the majority of people in our country did not realise on that day [October 1, 1965] that the PKI had been training a number of men and women at the Crocodile’s Pit to become our slaughterers, as I am also convinced that the victims – Generals Yani, Harjono M.T., S. Parman, Pandjaitan, etc. – did not think that that particular date would suddenly become a historical bloodied day brought about by the PKI.3 Meanwhile, Aveling, who translated the short stories, is an Australian scholar in Indonesian studies who, in 1970, taught literature at the University of Indonesia, which was known to be outspokenly anti-leftist.4 Aveling has since translated many anti-leftist short stories and, more recently, Goenawan Mohamad’s essay about his personal view as a signatory of the Cultural Manifesto.5 It is noteworthy that, for the discussed short story collection, Aveling chose the title Gestapu, a propagandistic acronym for Gerakan September Tiga Puluh (lit. Thirtieth of September Movement), since the term “Gestapu” was not neutral, being coined by the New Order regime to associate the PKI with the Gestapo.6 In Indonesia, anti-PKI sentiments often went hand in hand with anti-Soekarno sentiments, and Aveling’s foreword in Gestapu mirrors the DOI: 10.4324/9781003297185-2

18  The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels latter as well, as it implies that the president was aware of the plan to kill the generals and supported it. An often-cited part of Soekarno’s speech to the Association of Indonesian Technicians, which supposedly implies his knowledge of the killings, is duly quoted to that effect in the foreword: Arjuna felt weak. Krishna reminded him: Arjuna, Arjuna, Arjuna, you are a warrior. The duty of a warrior is to fight. The duty of a warrior is to wage war when it is called for. It is the duty of a warrior to safeguard, defend his country. This is the task of a warrior. It is true, they are your brothers on the other side. Your own teacher. They will destroy the state of Pandawa. Strike back at them. This is your task and your duty. Carry out your task without regard to the consequences.7 Aveling adds: “That night, six members of the alleged Council of Generals were killed by members of the palace guard, the Tjakrabirawa, under the command of Lt. Col. Untung.”8 The conversation between Krishna and Arjuna is taken from a famous scene in the Mahabharata where Arjuna is unable to lift his weapons against his cousins and teacher, but Krishna tells him that it is his duty to take the kingdom back, even at the price of killing his own kin. The implication in Aveling’s foreword is that, by alluding to this scene a few hours before the killings of the general, Soekarno, deeming the bloodshed necessary, knew and condoned it. This implication is however problematic, since the cited speech is taken from a popular book, The Communist Collapse in Indonesia (1969), whose author, the journalist Arnold Brackman, had been criticised for his subjective and virulent anti-communism.9 Furthermore, several historians have expressed doubts concerning its veracity. Asvi Warman Adam, for one, states that Soekarno’s original speech does not mention any invitation to kill, basing his argument on the testimony of a reporter who was present at the event: It was interesting what Eddi Elison, a TVRI reporter, conveyed in 1965, when he was asked by Colonel Saelan, President Sukarno’s aide, to be the master of ceremonies at the last minute. Before Bung Karno gave his speech, Eddi pointed out that the writing on the banner behind the pulpit contained an error. Sukarno also realised the error. That was why at the end of his speech he alluded to Krishna’s advice to Arjuna as was written on said banner. The banner read, “karamani, evadi karaste, mafalesui, kadatyana”, although the correct citation should have been “karmane, fadikaraste, mapalesyu, kadatyana,” meaning “do what you have to do without calculating profit and loss.” This is Krishna’s advice to Arjuna. Sukarno continued, “Therefore, I now say to the technicians, to all the Indonesian people, let’s do it; we have tasks ahead of us without the need to consider what will happen to us later.” At the end of the speech on September 30, 1965, Bung Karno indeed said, “That’s it. Carry out my

The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels  19 orders!” However, it was not a command or order to kidnap the generals, but an order for the people to continue the struggles in their respective professions without regard to profits.10 Aveling’s foreword in Gestapu, on the other hand, hints that the killings of the generals were done with Soekarno’s blessings. Published a decade after the mass killings and with a leading foreword, Gestapu serves as a reminder of the necessity of the anti-leftist purge in Indonesia. Four short stories in Gestapu, which are discussed in this chapter, are identical in plot: they deal with the killings of members of the PKI but show sympathy to the latter’s innocent families, so that Aveling, perhaps naively, comments that they evoke humanitarian spirit: There can be no doubting the genuineness of the personal anguish felt at the necessity to kill other human beings, despite the certitude that such things were necessary. There is a deep compassion for the widows and children, and a concern for the bitterness that they may eventually feel and the possible social consequences. Death is the dominant note; in many places the stories are grim, brutal, even sadistic. Underneath, however, is a deep humanitarianism. To read these stories is to understand a little better the agony that was Indonesia’s in 1965.11 The said humanitarianism, however, does not extend to members of the PKI, implying a justification of the anti-leftist purge. The earliest short story, Satyagraha Hoerip’s “Pada Titik Kulminasi” (“Climax”) was first published in Horison in September 1966. The protagonist, Soesetio, ponders whether he should kill his sister’s husband, Kuslan, a member of Lekra. When the PKI is in power, Kuslan harasses Soesetio and the other villagers who do not embrace social realism. Soesetio himself is a lecturer committed to liberal arts (indicated by his admiration to Albert Camus’s play, Caligula). It is made clear that he hesitates to kill Kuslan not because he sympathises with the latter’s ideology, but only because he is worried about his sister’s and her children’s welfare. Soesetio’s friend is convinced that Kuslan deserves to be killed, as he tells Soesetio: “Kuslan was the main person involved in the attacks which led to your losing your job. People came to your house and shouted obscenities at you. Kuslan was behind every political attack in this town.”12 The short story justifies the killings of members of the PKI like Kuslan by referencing the Javanese mythology, a religious text, and world history. First, Soesetio cites the Mahabharata, which has become an ethical guide for many Javanese, to justify the killings of one’s own kin: “That was what happened in the Bhagavad Gita. Arjuna was broken because he had to kill members of his own family and his guru. Krishna instructed him. He fought bravely.”13 Next, Soesetio turns to the Koran: “In the Koran God insists that the apostate be paid back fully.”14 Eventually, he draws on an example from history: “Caesar loved and trusted Brutus, but for

20  The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels the sake of truth and justice, Brutus killed him.”15 Luckily for Soesetio, others have done the killing, sparing him from doing so. Despite implying the necessity of killing leftists – even if this would mean killing one’s own kin – the short story supposedly carries humanitarian spirit by convincing readers to help their innocent family. After this initial short story, Hoerip would continue catering for the New Order regime’s need of maintaining the anti-leftist – and later anti-Chinese – sentiments through literature.16 Another similarly themed short story re-published in Gestapu is Gerson Poyk’s “Perempuan dan Anak-Anaknya” (“A Woman and Her Children”). The story, featuring a humanist protagonist called A, originally appears in Horison only two months after the issue that contains “Pada Titik Kulminasi.” When the PKI is in power, a member of the party named K – likely an abbreviation of “Komunis” – puts A in prison. K is depicted as a hypocrite: although the PKI claims to fight for equal justice, K hires a helper who is hard of hearing and mute, because “he felt a servant ought to be deaf.”17 Moreover, despite incessantly giving speeches about “productivity,” “distribution,” and “land reform,” K cheats the masses for his own gain, since K is said to be “a communist in league with mill owners and other bourgeois-capitalists.”18 Other PKI sympathisers in the short story are portrayed as badly as K. A rice mill owner who gives financial support to the PKI cheats the masses of their grain. Others are also said to have corrupted construction budget, as one contractor testifies: “They built houses all right – not much cement and who cares if the walls fall apart. Quantity, not quality, that was the thing.”19 When the tables are turned, A is freed, and K is condemned to death. Before his execution, K pleads to A to help his wife, who happens to be A’s former girlfriend.20 K admits that he has sinned against Pancasila (Indonesia’s state philosophy) and deserves to die, but his family is innocent. It is made clear that K’s widow is not a leftist and never wants their children to become one either. However, she is put in the same basket and eventually dies of accumulated distress. The story ends with A regretting her undeserved death and adopting the orphaned children, with the village teacher duly reminding him to distance them from leftist teachings, since “[t]he important thing is not merely to feed and clothe them, but to form them so that there will never be another Lubang Buaya.”21 Poyk’s short story contains a common discourse during the New Order regime: that is, members of the PKI have betrayed Pancasila, with some of them supposedly realising their sins and accepting, even requesting, death as their just punishment. This echoes a segment in Ted Yates’s propagandistic documentary Indonesia: The Troubled Victory (1967) – that similarly claims that repentant members of the PKI asked to be killed for their sins against Pancasila.22 In Zulidahlan’s “Maka Sempurnalah Penderitaan Saya di Muka Bumi” (The Valley of the Shadow of Death, 1967), the first-person narrator’s late father and elder brothers were members of the PKI who have likely been executed, leaving him/her alone with a sick mother, who dies at the beginning

The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels  21 of the story. The narrator’s main preoccupation is that the mother cannot be buried in the village’s cemetery, since the villagers hate their family, and for the right reason too: as the narrator says, “[m]any of the older teachers – the learned kyai, and those who have been to Mecca, the haji – were killed, victims of human stupidity. They were first kidnapped, then tortured. Our family, or at least our friends, helped kill them.”23 The mother, however, was not involved, even blaming her own family for the killings.24 To the narrator’s surprise, the villagers display humanitarianism by taking care of the funeral “without prejudice and without bitterness.”25 As in other short stories in Aveling’s Gestapu, kindness is shown to the “innocent” family members that have nothing to do with the PKI. Zulidahlan’s short story, being first published in Horison in March 1967, was translated into French in 1973,26 and the translator remarks the “sensibility” of the author’s texts,27 again ignoring the fact that the humanitarianism is not extended to everyone in the short story. H. G. Ugati’s “Ancaman” (“Threat”), published in Sastra in June 1969, is virtually identical to the above-mentioned short stories, particularly Hoerip’s and Poyk’s. The protagonist helps a widow who, like in Poyk’s “Perempuan dan Anak-Anaknya,” used to be his girlfriend, even though her late husband, a member of the PKI, treated him badly in the past, so much so that the protagonist’s wife remonstrates: “Her husband hated and threatened you. He’s dead, and now you feed his wife and children.”28 The protagonist is subsequently branded as a PKI sympathiser by the villagers for sheltering the widow, although he hates the PKI, which is made clear by his willingness to kill members of the party. Although he helps killing leftists, he is also shown as a humanist who wishes to help their innocent family. As he says: “We can’t pray and then watch orphans starve to death. She [the widow] didn’t know what it was all about.”29 Again, the short story conveys that a member of the PKI can be persecuted, but not his family, if they are proven innocent. Hoerip, Poyk, Zulidahlan, and Ugati were clear with their anti-leftist sentiments.30 Their short stories follow the same patterns and supposedly carry the idea of humanity by suggesting that, while members of the PKI deserve to die, their family members do not, as long as they condemn the PKI and renounce their left-leaning kin. The protagonist in three of these short stories has second thoughts about the killings only because they are worried about the fate of the widow and the children, but they never question the murder of the leftist himself. By the end of the story, each protagonist is shown to fulfil their duty to humanity by agreeing to take care of the innocents and to make sure that the next generation do not embrace leftist teachings. These short stories, including Zulidahlan’s, are in line with the grand narrative of the New Order regime, which states that the nation should be saved from the PKI. The only difference, which is used to qualify the short stories as a humanistic narrative as opposed to the regime’s grand narrative, is that they do not condone the “Clean Environment” policy.

22  The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels Umar Kayam’s Short Stories (1969–75): Who “Should” and “Should Not” Be Victims This section explains Umar Kayam’s role in cultural politics during the New Order period and the continuation of the above pattern in his short stories. Known mostly as a writer, Kayam played the role of Soekarno in the propagandistic film Pengkhianatan G30S/PKI, with the president being portrayed as a weak man under the influence of the PKI opposite the righteous and assertive Soeharto. By his own admission in 1983, Kayam wrote short stories set in 1965 to understand who “should” and “should not” be victims of the New Order’s anti-leftist purge: With the enthusiasm of a young man who believed in the arrival of a new order that must replace the obsolete order, I worked to clean my work environment from all elements of the Old Order. However, at the same time I also saw people falling victim [to the new order]. Victims who should be victims. Victims who should not be victims. Who determines who “should” and “should not” be victims? In his doubts during the Kurukshetra, Arjuna could ask Krishna for counsel. In my doubts and ignorance, I did not have a Krishna. I tried to address my indecision and misunderstanding in the stories “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut” and “Bawuk” that I wrote in that period. The misfortune that Tono experiences in “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut” as well as the tragic consequences that Bawuk must endure in “Bawuk” are my attempts to understand who “should” and “should not” be victims.31 In three of his four short stories set in 1965, Kayam juxtaposes characters that are persecuted in relation to the anti-leftist purge: one is a full-fledged and militant member of the PKI, and the other is only unfortunately entangled with the party. It is not difficult to find scholarly texts beside Aveling’s review that classify Kayam’s texts as humanitarian narratives,32 although the death of a leftist in his stories is always depicted as being deserved, reflecting Kayam’s rigid definition of who “should” and “should not” be victims. These short stories reappeared later in Aveling’s other short story collections: From Surabaya to Armageddon: Indonesian Short Stories (1976) and Sri Sumarah and Other Stories (1980). “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut,” which first appeared in Horison in August 1969, tells the story of a liberal protagonist who, mistaken for a leftist, falls victim to the purge. The short story was re-published in a collection entitled Sri Sumarah dan Cerita Pendek Lainnya (1975). Later, it was translated into English under the title Fall in Connecticut by Aveling and published in the collection From Surabaya to Armageddon (1976), and again in Sri Sumarah and Other Stories (1980), cementing its canonical status. The protagonist, Tono, is someone who should not be a victim, because he joins HSI and Lekra merely out of loneliness after his return from studying in the United

The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels  23 States. Initially, he agrees to criticise landlords and kabir (kapitalis birokrat, lit. bureaucratic capitalists) through his writings. His short stories, praised to the skies by members of Lekra, are regularly printed and well-reviewed in left-wing dailies, such as Harian Rakyat, Bintang Timur, and Zaman Baru. After a while, however, Tono starts dabbling in the avant-garde writing that he has left behind. Samsu, the leader of HSI and Lekra, accordingly reprimands him for “showing liberal tendencies.”33 Still, Tono never writes short stories in the spirit of social realism again. His failure to officially withdraw from the organisations, however, leads to his arrest during the anti-leftist purge. While in prison, other tapol (political prisoners) criticise his ideas for being counterrevolutionary in a typical Lekra discourse, calling him out, for instance, for having a “bourgeois mentality” instead of a “progressive and revolutionary” one.34 These accusations serve as evidence that Tono is not a real leftist. Instead, he was “manipulated” and “used” by real leftists like Samsu.35 The narrative keeps progressing back and forth to systematically show that Tono’s allegiance has always lain with liberalism, the ideology of the Western bloc. After being freed from prison, he dedicates himself to the liberal arts and writes another short story about a ménage-à-trois that does not contain any hint of revolutionary ideas. Tono is shown to be well-read in Western European arts and culture and expresses a keen desire to re-read books by liberal philosophers. He also plans to reconnect with Javanese classics, but then compares the feudal society, where they were written, to Soekarno’s Guided Democracy, commenting that the latter was even more oppressive and thus revealing his anti-Soekarno sentiments.36 Tono eventually clarifies once and for all the true nature of his past involvements with the Left: “I’m never sure whether I was truly a communist. A traveller perhaps. A traveller stays various places. HSI and Lekra were two of the places I stopped off at … But haven’t I decided to continue my journey?”37 Tono’s first arrest during the anti-leftist purge of 1965–66 is suggested to be a matter of misfortune since he has left the left-leaning organisations in all but name. His second arrest and possible execution at the end of the story – because the townspeople do not want to run the risk of having “another Lubang Buaya” – comes across as even more undeserved now that readers are made aware of his misgivings about leftist teachings and Soekarno’s Guided Democracy. Instead of being a leftist, Tono, as the short story gradually reveals, is a cosmopolitan: he is open to other people’s culture and ideology, but also rooted to his own; he might be well-read in socialism, but what he believes in is liberalism. While the short story gradually awakens readers’ sympathy for the liberalminded and cosmopolitan Tono, it does not talk about the death of Samsu, who is portrayed to deprive artists of freedom when the PKI is in power. It is therefore obvious in Kayam’s “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut” who “should” and “should not” be victims of the brutal anti-leftist purge in Indonesia. The character of Tono goes on to become a blueprint for the figure of the liberal, yet persecuted, individual in later mainstream novels about 1965. Likewise, Samsu became a blueprint for the radical leftist who serves as the

24  The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels enemy of freedom. Tono’s fate closely resembles that of Ibnu Santoro, a reallife U.S. graduate who was killed in March 1966. It is implied that Santoro, like the fictitious Tono, had only a little to do with the PKI due to political circumstances beyond his control, but fell victim to the anti-leftist purge because of that superficial connection to the Left, as suggested by John Roosa, a historian specialising in the mass killings in Indonesia: Ibnu Santoro was teaching economics in 1965 at Gadjah Mada University … He, like many of his fellow instructors, supported the PKI-­affiliated organizations on campus, such as the one for university students, though this support could not have been extensive. He had spent most of the preceding six years in the United States. The limited support he offered seems to have been at least partly motivated by self-preservation. The PKI was leading campaigns against everything American at the time … and he would have been a prime target as Ford Foundation-funded graduate of an American university.38 Kayam, Santoro’s contemporary who had a lifelong affiliation to Gadjah Mada University and was also a U.S. graduate, was likely aware of Santoro’s fate in 1966. His “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut” serves as a reminder that many liberal-minded cosmopolitans might be unfairly persecuted in the New Order regime’s excessive anti-leftist purge. Kayam’s “Bawuk” provides another type of victim of the purge, namely the next of kin of a leftist. “Bawuk” first appeared in Horison in January 1970. In 1975, the short story was re-published in a collection that contains only one other short story, “Sri Sumarah,” which also deals with an innocent next of kin of a leftist. “Bawuk” was translated into English under the same title by Aveling and, like Fall in Connecticut, was published in From Surabaya to Armageddon (1976). The short story has the same structure as “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut,” with the innocence of the protagonist being only gradually revealed to readers in a narrative that keeps shifting back and forth. The leftist in “Bawuk” is the eponymous heroine’s husband, Hasan. While in hiding after what is officially known thenceforward as the failed coup of the PKI, he trains the farmers in guerrilla warfare. Hasan also brainwashes the naïve farmers, telling them that the army is “reactionary forces [that] had bought the weapons to steal their land.”39 As a result, the farmers fight the army: “Bravely, believing that their enemies were reactionaries, bent on destroying them and stealing their land.”40 Hasan cowardly flees when the farmers are losing to the army, leaving behind his wife and children. At the end, he is killed during the PKI’s failed attempt to take over East Java. His death is not intended to awake readers’ sympathy, as he is depicted as subversive, irresponsible, and (or because he is) a member of the PKI. Bawuk’s ideological stance is more ambiguous. Although Hasan never insists that she should join Gerwani, he subtly influences her thinking, since

The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels  25 “[h]e discussed ideas with her, gave her books, and encouraged her to think for herself.”41 This seems to be exactly the situation during the Cold War (as described in the Chapter 1): on a larger scale, both the Western and Eastern blocs attempted to attract people to their side not through force, but through ideas. After Hassan flees, Bawuk meets another member of the PKI who tricks her into working as a spy in exchange for a chance to reunite with her husband. Up to this point, Bawuk seems to be as guilty as Hasan by aiding the PKI. As in the case of Tono in “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut,” however, her involvement with the PKI is gradually scrutinised, and it turns out that she is simply playing the role of an obedient wife, whose sole purpose is to follow her husband. It is also implied that Bawuk is not very bright, so that Hasan and his cronies can easily manipulate her, as shown in Bawuk’s explanation to her sister: “You were always cleverer than I was … The only thing I understand is my connection with Hasan.”42 Bawuk eventually realises that the PKI is “dangerous … for many people,” and that Hasan is a “madman” who “left school, became a Marxist, studied politics, plotted, dreamed, and then plotted again, dreamed, and then finally revolted.”43 Bawuk is likely killed during her search for Hasan, which Kayam sees as “tragic consequences that Bawuk must endure.”44 Hasan’s death, on the contrary, is not depicted as tragic, but deserved. Umar Kayam’s “Sri Sumarah” is similar to “Bawuk,” in which it portrays the next of kin of a leftist. The eponymous heroine – addressed respectfully as Bu Marto (Mrs. Marto) in the story – is a Javanese widow with a daughter. The leftist in the short story is Sri’s son-in-law, Yos, a student and member of the left-wing CGMI. At Yos’s suggestion, Sri leases her house and half of her rice field to the left-wing organisation BTI, while another half has already been pawned to a neighbour. Like Hasan in “Bawuk,” who manipulates the villagers, Yos manipulates everyone around him: he tries to convince Sri that her kind neighbour, Pak Mohammad, who rightfully acquires her land, is a loan shark, and threatens to “crush” him, which he eventually does with the help of the brainwashed farmers. When the tables are turned and Yos and his wife are on the run, Sri’s behaviour is exemplary: she yields up her properties that have been leased to the BTI without complaining and convinces her daughter, a member of Gerwani, to turn herself in. Sri behaves as expected by the New Order regime: to accept (nrimo). Her ability to accept is hinted by her name: “Sri Sumarah – the name means ‘Sri who surrenders or adapts’.”45 Meanwhile, Yos is hinted to be dead. Again, there is no doubt who “should” and “should not” be victims in “Sri Sumarah.” Among Kayam’s four PKI-related short stories, “Kimono Biru Buat Istri” (“The Blue Kimono”) has the briefest reference to 1965, because the story attempts to sum up Indonesian history from the revolutionary period to the New Order period, but still the PKI is depicted as the enemy of freedom. The short story was published in Horison in February 1974 and re-published in Sri Sumarah dan Cerita Pendek Lainnya (1975), a collection which was translated into English by Aveling under the title Sri Sumarah and Other Stories (1980).

26  The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels “Kimono Biru Buat Istri” tells the story of two old friends: one is Mus, a civil servant and part-time lecturer at the University of Indonesia, whose salary is so small that he cannot afford to buy a kimono for his wife when he is sent to Tokyo for a work trip, and the other is Wandi, a successful international businessman and an MP. The reason why Mus remains poor and Wandi has become rich turns out to be a subtle critique of the New Order regime. Wandi is depicted as unscrupulous beside being able to adapt to social changes and in possession of a strong business acumen – qualities that are needed to climb the social ladder in an advanced capitalist state like the New Order’s Indonesia. Wandi becomes an “MP of the Republic of Indonesia” after financing his political campaigns with the profit of his shady business and becomes even richer by using his political position to support his expanding business empire. Mus, on the other hand, can barely provide for his family because he does not use – or rather, he does not abuse – his position in the government agencies. The story hints that corruption is necessary to survive under the New Order regime; thus, Wandi cannot be entirely blamed. Wandi is not depicted as being without virtue, since he often uses his illgotten gains to help his friends who suffer under the Guided Democracy. For example, Soekarno’s famous slogan during the Indonesia-Malaysia confrontation was “Crush Malaysia,” which Mus, a liberal, critically questions, resulting in his being fired from the university, since those of his students who belong to CGMI suspect him to be a counter-revolutionary and question him: “‘Why do we have to study Samuelson? Isn’t that a liberal bourgeois text?’ ‘Why do you think we were too hasty confronting Malaysia?’”46 Wandi helps Mus, as well as other people who are also fired after being spied on by the BPI (Central Intelligence Bureau) under the order of Soebandrio, one of Soekarno’s right-hand men. When anti-leftist students who belong to KAMI start an anti-Soekarno rally, Wandi again steps up by providing packed lunch for the demonstrators. While such revelations are expected to give more nuance to his character, they also deliver a thinly veiled attack on the PKI and Soekarno’s Guided Democracy, portrayed as the enemy of democracy. It is also noteworthy that the character’s name “Wandi” as well as his career path closely resemble those of Sofjan Wanandi, a former leader of KAMI who, after the New Order regime came into power, became an MP and rich tycoon. Despite his wealth that indicates his closeness to the corrupted New Order regime, Wanandi is still credited for battling the PKI.47 Kayam’s short stories about 1965 show a similar pattern: they are highly critical of the Left, and they are written in an unorthodox style that involves surreal sexual images. With regards to surrealism, the stories often juxtapose a sexual scene with the plot surrounding 1965. In “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut,” the sexual scene is shown in the salacious story-within-thestory that Tono writes. In “Bawuk,” the scene details the love affair of Bawuk’s father. In “Sri Sumarah,” it describes Sri’s sexual encounter with a massage client. In “Kimono Biru Buat Istri,” it shows Mus’s one-night stands with housemaids and prostitutes. As subplots, these scenes are inconclusive and do not

The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels  27 have any connection whatsoever with the main plot, except to demonstrate the author’s avant-garde style. On this note, Kayam resembles his own fictitious character, Tono, who prefers surrealism over social realism. As a scholar of liberal arts, Kayam understandably rejected the PKI and Soekarno’s Guided Democracy, but – as shown in “Kimono Biru Buat Istri” – he also distanced himself from the New Order regime, the executor of the Left in Indonesia. Critical of both the “Old-” and “New Order” governments, Kayam’s allegiance laid with universal humanism, as shown in his support of Taman Ismail Marzuki (TIM), whose establishment is claimed to be “an important instance of the institutionalization of universal humanism.”48 Although heavily criticised by artists who endorse universal humanism, the New Order regime still allowed them to be the driving force behind Indonesian culture because of their political stance against the Left.49 Many of their works, such as Umar Kayam’s and Goenawan Mohamad’s, have also become internationally known. Aveling, who translated them into English, was their early champion, with literary and academic journals discovering them for the first time mainly through his translation in the 1970s.50 The short stories are never out of print, being constantly republished in prestigious collections. Zulidahlan’s short story is included in Ajip Rosidi’s anthology Laut Biru Langit Biru (Blue Sea Blue Sky, 1977). Hoerip’s “Pada Titik Kulminasi” and Kayam’s “Bawuk,” for example, were again translated into English and published in an anthology by the Lontar Foundation in 2017.51 Through short stories set in 1965 that juxtapose anti-PKI sentiments and universal humanism, readers are expected to see how the defeat of the Left is presented as liberation in Indonesia. The Red Scare conveyed both home and abroad by these short stories has been in line with the grand narrative of the New Order regime and the Western bloc: leftists are dangerous, whereas humanitarianism serves to justify anti-leftist sentiments and persecutions that come with it. Conclusion This chapter discusses the brainwashing and the inculcation of the Red Scare through short stories, which became a tool for their ability to quickly reach a wide audience with its anti-leftist discourse through periodicals. Until 1975, the depiction of violence against members of the PKI in short stories was obvious. They were commonly depicted to be a threat to freedom and society, so that their murder is never questioned and even condoned. These short stories supposedly carry the motto of universal humanism by suggesting that the innocent family of a leftist should not be persecuted, as opposed to the policies and practices under the New Order regime that extended discrimination to innocent family members, known as Bersih Diri, Bersih Lingkungan (Clean Self, Clean Environment). However, even “Clean Self” policy is not unproblematic, since it still encouraged the persecution of individuals who embrace a different ideology. Another type of individual who “should not” be victims according to Umar Kayam’s “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut”

28  The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels is a cosmopolitan individual. This type is easily mistaken for a leftist because, as intellectuals, they are usually well-read in left-wing-literature and culture, although their allegiance lies with liberalism – in other words, with the Western bloc. For this type of individuals, the fictitious cosmopolitan in “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut,” Tono, serves as a blueprint. This chapter concludes that, despite supposedly endorsing universal humanism, short stories from 1966 to 1975 that revisit 1965 portray members of the PKI in the same way as in the propaganda campaigns of the New Order regime. Notes 1 Sastra was founded in 1961 by H. B. Jassin, M. Balfas, and D. S. Moeljanto. Horison was founded in July 1966, with its first editorial board consisting of Mochtar Lubis, H. B. Jassin, Zaini, Taufiq Ismail, Arief Budiman, and D. S. Moeljanto; Goenawan Mohamad also joined the board in 1969 after returning from Europe. See: Yoseph Taum, Literature and Politics: Representations of the 1965 Tragedy Under the New Order (Yogyakarta: Sanata Dharma University Press, 2021), 102. The board members were the signatories of the Cultural Manifesto and thus well known to be ideologically opposed to the left-leaning Lekra. After the “failed coup” in 1965, both magazines accordingly focused on the publication of short stories that are either anti-Soekarno or anti-PKI. 2 “This list of short stories on the coup originally appeared in the article by Satygraha Hoerip: ‘Pemberontakan Gestapu/PKI da1am Cerpen-cerpen Indonesia,’ Budaya Jaya, February 1972.” Harry Aveling, Gestapu: Indonesian Short Stories on the Abortive Communist Coup of 30th September 1965 (Hawaii: University of Hawaii, 1975), ix. Hoerip’s list also contains Umar Kayam’s anti-PKI short stories with the same theme; they are included in Aveling’s second and third short story collections. 3 “Saja jakin majoritas bangsa kita di hari itu tidak menjadari, bahwa di Lobang Buaja sedjak beberapa lama sebelumnja oleh PKI telah dan tengah digembleng sedjumlah laki² dan perempuan, untuk didjadikan algodjo² terhadap kita semuanja, sebagaimana saja pun jakin bahwa para korban sendiri – Djendral² Yani, Harjono M. T., S. Parman, Pandjaitan dll – tidak mengira mendadak itulah hari bersedjarah jang berdarah itu dihadirkan PKI.” Satygraha Hoerip, “Pemberontakan Gestapu/PKI da1am Cerpen-cerpen Indonesia,” Budaya Jaya 45 (February 1972), 86. 4 After the killings of the generals in 1965, Jakarta became centre stage for student demonstrations against the PKI, and the biggest group of demonstrators came from the University of Indonesia. The anti-PKI demonstrations soon became an anti-Soekarno rally as well because Soekarno did not want to outlaw communism from Indonesia. 5 See: Goenawan Mohamad, The ‘Cultural Manifesto’ Affair Revisited: Literature and Politics in Indonesia in the 1960s, a Signatory’s View, trans. Harry Aveling (Clayton: Monash Asia Institute Press, 2011). 6 The term “Gestapu” is grammatically incorrect, since Indonesia uses a day-monthyear instead of month-day-year system. It is factually incorrect as well, as the killings happened in the early hours of October 1, 1965. In a countermove, Soekarno coined the term “Gestok” (lit. First of October Movement). With the two acronyms circulating after the killings of the generals, it is possible to determine one’s political affiliation through the acronym they used: those using “Gestok” were pro-Soekarno and, although not necessarily left-leaning, were sceptical about the New Order regime’s propaganda, whereas those using “Gestapu” were generally anti-leftist and also anti-Soekarno. Both acronyms are rarely used since the term

The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels  29 “Gerakan 30 September/PKI” (Thirtieth of September Movement (by) the PKI) was introduced in 1969, establishing that the PKI was the undisputed mastermind of the brutal killings of the generals. On the eve of the events’ 57th anniversary, Soekarno’s son, Guntur, reminds that the correct term is “Gestok,” stating that “[Soeharto’s] supporters will surely continue to use the term ‘Gestapu’. However, for those who responsibly observe historical facts, consulting complete and accurate literature, the correct term is ‘Gestok’!” [“Yang pro kepada pengemban Supersemar pasti akan tetap memilih Gestapu. Namun, bagi mereka yang konsekuen mengikuti fakta sejarah dengan referensi dan literasi yang lengkap dan benar, yang benar adalah Gestok!”] Guntur Soekarno, “Antara Gestapu dan Gestok [Between Gestapu and Gestok],” Kompas, September 30, 2022, p. 7. 7 Arnold Brackman, The Communist Collapse in Indonesia, quoted in Harry Aveling, “Introduction,” in Harry Aveling (ed.), Gestapu: Indonesian Short Stories on the Abortive Communist Coup of 30th September 1965 (Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 1975), i. 8 Harry Aveling, “Introduction,” in Gestapu, i. 9 “Pettiness and invective demean the worthy journalistic enterprise of providing a wider public with book-length illuminations of current events.” Roger Paget, review of The Communist Collapse in Indonesia by Arnold Brackman, The Journal of Asian Studies 31, no. 3 (May 1972): 739; “[A]nti-communism, pure and simple, just won’t do.” Harry Benda, review of Indonesian Communism: A History by Arnold Brackman, International Journal 19, no. 2 (Spring 1964): 241. 10 “Menarik apa yang disampaikan oleh Eddi Elison, reporter TVRI, pada tahun 1965, yang secara mendadak diminta oleh Kolonel Saelan, ajudan Presiden Sukarno, untuk menjadi master of ceremony (MC). Sebelum Bung Karno berpidato, Eddi menunjukkan bahwa tulisan pada spanduk di belakang mimbar mengandung kesalahan. Sukarno menyadari kekeliruan tersebut. Itulah sebabnya pada bagian akhir pidato ia menyinggung tentang petuah Kresna kepada Arjuna, sebagaimana tertulis pada spanduk itu. Pada spanduk itu tertulis, “karamani, evadi karaste, mafalesui, kadatyana,” padahal kata-kata yang betul adalah “karmane, fadikaraste, mapalesyu, kadatyana” yang artinya kerjakan engaku punya kewajiban tanpa menghitung-hitung untung atau rugi. Itulah ajaran Kresna kepada Arjuna. Sukarno melanjutkan lagi, “Maka, aku sekarang berkata kepada para teknisi, kepada seluruh rakyat Indonesia, mari kita kerjakan kita punya tugas tanpa menghitung-hitung apa yang nanti terjadi dengan kita.” Pada akhir pidato pada tanggal 30 September 1965 itu memang Bung Karno berujar, “Sekian. Kerjakan komandoku!” Tetapi, itu bukan komando atau perintah penculikan para jenderal, melainkan perintah kepada seluruh rakyat untuk melakukan perjuangan pada bidang profesi masing-masing tanpa pamrih.” Asvi Warman Adam, Bung Karno Dibunuh Tiga Kali? [Bung Karno, Murdered Three Times?] (Jakarta: Kompas, 2010), 13–14. See also: Budi Setiyono and Bonnie Triyana, Revolusi Belum Selesai (Jakarta: Serambi Ilmu Semesta, 2014), 45. 11 Harry Aveling, “Introduction,” in Gestapu, viii. 12 Satyagraha Hoerip, “Climax,” in Gestapu, 40. 3 Ibid., 43. 1 4 Ibid. 1 5 Ibid. 1 16 Hoerip’s short stories invariably carry anti-PKI or anti-Chinese sentiments, which are the main narratives of the New Order regime. His short story “Kenalan di Awang-Awang” (lit. “An Acquaintance in the Air,” 1989), for instance, tells the story of an ethnic Chinese who has embezzled millions of dollars and is eventually apprehended by an Indonesian agent who is said to have successfully caught members of the PKI. 17 Gerson Poyk, “A Woman and Her Children,” in Gestapu, 61.

30  The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels 18 Ibid., 72. 19 Ibid., 69. 20 In literature, many PKI widows are often the former girlfriend of the protagonist. The widow in H. G. Ugati’s “Ancaman” and Leila Chudori’s Pulang (2012) used to be the protagonist’s girlfriend as well before being seduced into an unhappy marriage by a member of the PKI, again implying that all leftists are individuals with sinister vices. 21 Gerson Poyk, “A Woman and Her Children,” 75. 22 This claim is made by a college professor from Bali who was interviewed by Yates: “And some of them wanted to be killed, but they asked for time: ‘If you want to kill me, you can kill me the next day, but now give me a chance to pray at the temple, to say goodbye to my relatives, and the next morning I’m ready to be killed.’ So the next morning, or next evening, the villagers brought him here, and then killed him by sword.” This interview is shown in a documentary film, The Look of Silence, which criticises the mass killings of 1965–66 as well as the killings’ justifications. The Look of Silence, directed by Joshua Oppenheimer (Final Cut for Real, 2014), 0:12:06. 23 Zulidahlan, “The Valley,” in Gestapu, 79. 24 “Don’t carry the bitterness on. Ask for forgiveness. We were wrong.” Ibid., 81. 25 Ibid. 26 Zulidahlan, “Totale est maintenant ma douleur en ce monde,” trans. Henri Chambert-­ Loir, Archipel 6 (1973), 81–85. 27 “No doubt he published no more than five short stories, but they reveal a rare talent by their sensibility that has often been called ‘feminine’” [“Sans doute n’a-t-il pas publié plus de cinq nouvelles, mais qui laissent deviner un rare talent par leur sensibilité qu’on a souvent dite ‘féminine’”]. Ibid., 81. 28 Ugati, “Threat,” in Harry Aveling, Gestapu, 53. 29 Ibid. 30 Poyk and Hoerip were among the signatories of the Cultural Manifesto. Both attended the International Writing Program at the University of Iowa in 1970 and 1972, respectively. The writing program, which was started in 1967 and mostly funded by the U.S. Department of State, has frequently received Indonesian writers who can be grouped into avant-garde category, where famous participants include Taufiq Ismail in 1971 and 1991, Sutardji Calzoum Bachri in 1974, Danarto and Putu Wijaya in 1976, Sitok Srengenge in 2001, Ayu Utami in 2005, and Nirwan Derwanto in 2007. Arifin C. Noer, who directed the film Pengkhianatan G30S/ PKI in 1984, and Arswendo Atmowiloto, who adapted the propagandist film into a novel in 1986, also attended the writing program in 1972 and 1979, respectively. See: “Participants by Year,” International Writing Program, https://iwp. uiowa.edu/residency/participants-by-year. After the defeat of the Left in Indonesia, many of these American-educated writers, who promote individualism and magical realism instead of social realism, were given free rein under the New Order regime to redirect the trajectory of Indonesian literature. Meanwhile, Ugati’s and Zulidahlan’s identity remain unclear: Ugati is listed in Gestapu as “[b]orn and liv[ing] in Banda Aceh; no other biographical details available.” Harry Aveling, Gestapu, 108. As for Zulidahlan, Aveling mentions that “[a]part from the fact that this writer is deceased, no biographical details are available.” Ibid., 110. 31 “Dengan kegairahan seorang anak muda yang percaya kepada suatu komitmen terhadap datangnya suatu orde yang baru yang mesti menggantikan orde yang lapuk, saya bekerja membersihkan lingkungan kerja saya dari semua unsur orde lapuk itu. Akan tetapi, bersamaan dengan itu saya juga melihat korban-korban berjatuhan. Korban yang seharusnya menjadi korban. Korban yang seharusnya tidak menjadi korban. Siapakah yang menentukan “harus” dan “tidak harus” menjadi korban itu?

The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels  31 Dalam kebimbangan di Kuruserta Arjuna masih sempat bertanya kepada Kresna. Dalam kebimbangan dan ketidakmengertian saya, saya tidak mempunyai seorang Kresna. Kebimbangan dan ketidakmengertian, saya coba pertanyakan dalam cerita “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut” dan “Bawuk” saya tulis dalam periode itu. Nasib sial yang harus dialami Tono, sang protagonis dari “Musim Gugur …,” dan konsekuensi tragis yang harus dipikul oleh Bawuk dalam “Bawuk” adalah upaya saya untuk memahami siapa yang “harus” dan “tidak harus” menjadi korban.” Ensiklopedia Sastra Indonesia (1975), s.v. “Sri Sumarah dan Bawuk”. http:// ensiklopedia.kemdikbud.go.id/sastra/artikel/Sri_Sumarah_dan_Bawuk. 32 Nilsson Hoadley states that “Umar Kayam’s works concerning the affair of 1965 are characterized by the theme of innocent sufferings.” Anna-Greta Nilsson Hoadley, Indonesian Literature Vs New Order Orthodoxy: The Aftermath of 1965–1966 (Copenhagen: NIAS Press, 2005), 93. The website of the Lontar Foundation, which published Kayam’s short story collections Fireflies in Manhattan, similarly argues that one major phase in Kayam’s literary career is “[his] stories about the 1965 Communist coup that remain unmatched for their sympathy towards innocent victims.” https://lontar.org/product/fireflies-in-manhattan/ 33 Umar Kayam, “Musim Gugur di Connecticut,” in Harry Aveling (ed.), From Surabaya to Armageddon (Singapore: Heinemann, 1976), 170. 4 Ibid., 165. 3 35 “[Tono’s] attacks on the right-wing ‘Cultural Manifesto’ of August 1963 were popular and studied in the branches of the Culture Institute [Lekra]. He hadn’t felt manipulated or used at that time.” Ibid., 169. 36 “The old Javanese poets were hirelings, granted. But they still had plenty of room to indulge their own fantasies as well … They had a certain freedom.” Ibid., 175. 7 Ibid., 177. 3 8 John Roosa, Buried Histories: The Anti-Communist Massacres of 1965–1966 in In3 donesia (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2020), 4–6. 39 Umar Kayam, “Bawuk,” in From Surabaya to Armageddon, 145. 0 Ibid., 150. 4 1 Ibid., 148. 4 4 2 Ibid., 156. 3 Ibid., 157. 4 4 Ensiklopedia Sastra Indonesia (1975), s.v. “Sri Sumarah dan Bawuk.” http://ensik4 lopedia.kemdikbud.go.id/sastra/artikel/Sri_Sumarah_dan_Bawuk. 45 Umar Kayam, “Sri Sumarah,” in Harry Aveling (ed.), Sri Sumarah and Other Stories (Singapore, Heinemann, 1980), 105. 46 Umar Kayam, “Blue Kimono,” in Sri Sumarah, 175. 47 For a concise biographical information about Sofyan Wanandi, see Leo Suryadinata, “Wanandi, (Albertus) Sofjan,” in Leo Suryadinata (ed.), Southeast Asian Personalities of Chinese Descent: A Biographical Dictionary, Vol. 1 (Singapore: ISEAS, 2019), 1246–1248. 48 Although TIM consistently excluded left-wing artists, Kayam called TIM a “cultural oasis.” Tod Jones, Culture, Power, and Authoritarianism in the Indonesian State (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 134. See also: David T. Hill, “The Two Leading Institutions: Taman Ismail Marzuki and Horison,” in Virginia M. Hooker (ed.), Culture and Society in New Order Indonesia (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1993), 245–262. 49 “[The New Order] government intervention did not reduce, but instead reinforced the dominance of universal humanism.” Tod Jones, Culture, Power, and Authoritarianism, 136. According to Jones, this is because “[t]he universal humanists have no qualms in representing the annihilation of the left as deserved and moved quickly to suppress their legacy by asserting their own version of history and ideas

32  The Anti-PKI Short Stories: Blueprint for Humanist Novels about culture.” Ibid., 137. As a result, artists affiliated with TIM “dominated ‘New Order’ Indonesian literary and artistic life from their base in the national centre of the performing arts.” David T. Hill, “The Two Leading Institutions,” 250. 50 Beside Kayam’s anti-PKI short stories, Aveling also extensively translated W. S. Rendra’s and Goenawan Mohamad’s poems, both artists being closely related to TIM. For the complete list of Aveling’s translation of Indonesian literary texts, see Dede Oetomo, “Modern Indonesian Literature in Translation I.” Indonesia no. 29 (April 1980): 91–111; Dede Oetomo, “Modern Indonesian Literature in Translation II.” Indonesia no. 30 (October 1980): 125–162. 51 The Indonesia-based Lontar Foundation, founded by, among others, Umar Kayam, is a non-profit organisation that aims to promote Indonesia abroad through literature and culture. “Pada Titik Kulminasi” is translated anew into English by Isla Winarto and “Bawuk” by John H. McGlynn. See: John H. McGlynn, Zen Hae, and Andy Fuller (eds.), The Lontar Anthology of Indonesian Short Stories: Short Fiction from the Twentieth Century, Vol 2: The New Order and Beyond, 1965–2000 (Jakarta: The Lontar Foundation, 2017).

3 Popular Novels and the New Order Conformity behind the Bravery

“Clean Self ” vs. “Clean Environment” Policies With the highly publicised release of Amba and Pulang in 2012, academics look back to novels from the 1970s and 1980s that are set in 1965, and deem them extraordinary for daring to address the taboo subject of the mass killings while the regime was still in power.1 The novels are praised for speaking for the “innocent victims” of the anti-leftist purge,2 and are even said to have broken the taboo long before Amba and Pulang.3 The term “innocent victims” hints, however, that while those who are merely associated with or manipulated by the PKI are blameless, real leftists are not innocent.4 The novels differ only in terms of the regime’s excessive “Clean Environment” policy, but they do not criticise – rather, they even condone – the “Clean Self” policy. In the selected novels, left-leaning individuals are shown to be aggressive, opposed to religion, unfaithful to their families, and unreliable as breadwinners; moreover, they trick weak-minded people into coming over to their side of the fence. Although there are still scholars who occasionally express amazement that the above-mentioned popular novels were left alone by the New Order regime,5 there was actually no reason to fear that they could be banned, as the novels do not defy the regime’s grand narrative in the context of the danger of the PKI. Instead, they speak only for people who are manipulated into joining the PKI as well as their “innocent” family members. Communist Cadres in Literature Two popular novels that deal with a weak-minded protagonist manipulated by the PKI are Ahmad Tohari’s Kubah (1979) and Ajip Rosidi’s Anak Tanah Air (1985). Both are often seen as examples of the few novels from the New Order period that speak for the “innocent victims” of the anti-leftist purge.6 However, both novels depict the slyness of fictitious members of the PKI in great detail, so that it is difficult to imagine that they defy (instead of corroborating) the regime’s anti-leftist narrative. Kubah often shows a leftist trio – Margo, Triman, and Iron Teeth – discussing how to turn people in their fictitious village, Pegaten, from devout Muslims into members of the PKI. Margo, DOI: 10.4324/9781003297185-3

34  Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery the main antagonist, is described as “an educated man, much influenced by Muso’s teachings, who survived the Madiun Affair and has since become a teacher in Pegaten … Sly and tenacious, he devours books and brochures about his party.”7 He stealthily recruits people for the PKI – which is never mentioned by name, being a taboo word by the time the novel was w ­ ritten – and focuses on “youths with history that makes them easy to influence and groom into a cadre.”8 One of the said youths is Karman, Margo’s former pupil. Karman is deemed a suitable candidate because he grows up in poverty after the loss of his family’s rice field, although this setback is caused by none other than his own father, who, being a priyayi, refuses to work like a farmer and pushes a reluctant neighbour to exchange the land for rice.9 First, the trio sabotages Karman’s civil service test so that, as the novel explains, “they have three more months to supply Karman with reading materials containing communist doctrines and Lenin’s teachings.”10 As the trio had predicted, after the three months have passed, “[Karman’s] subconscious has been steered into believing in communism that is patiently and consistently taught by Margo’s group.”11 Secondly, they turn him against landlords by telling twisted stories about two landholders, Sanawi and Haji Bakir. For instance, “Margo never tells honestly that, apart from the honorarium, Sanawi always dutifully gives alms each harvest time.”12 Since Haji Bakir is also the person who (rightfully) acquires his family’s land, Karman easily believes that he is “an evil landlord, full of hypocrisy,”13 despite the haji remaining his family’s generous benefactor. Thirdly, the trio turns him away from religion, which they succeed in a year with the following result: Only a year after his introduction to Margo’s group, a major change happens in Karman’s personality. He becomes a cynic … Karman also starts openly turning away from the mosque and prayers. As for religion, Karman has become eloquent in citing Margo’s sayings that religion is an opium whose purpose is to drug the oppressed.14 When Haji Bakir’s daughter, Rifah, becomes a widow, Margo pushes Karman to propose, knowing that the haji would refuse a heathen who openly cites Karl Marx’s dictum for a son-in-law. As they predict: “[Karman’s] hatred for Haji Bakir now knows no bounds, which is what Margo and his group really want. Later, Karman would not only hate Rifah’s father, but also all haji and other wealthy people.”15 Alongside their devious plan to recruit impressionable youths, the communists are also depicted as having no sense of morality. They encourage Karman to have an adulterous relationship with Suti, a married woman who is close with the PKI and who “either uses the party for her lust, or she channels her lust for the sake of the party.”16 Moreover, it is implied that they intimidate Suti’s husband to let her conduct extramarital affairs with members of the PKI. As the omniscient narrator claims, “were Suti not a special woman [that is, connected with the PKI], her husband would have grabbed a bat, entered

Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery  35 the bedroom, and caught her red-handed, as she often sleeps with people like Triman, reputedly for the party.”17 Margo also suggests that the villagers eat rats for an absurd reason: “He wants to destroy substantial values. People in Pegaten abhor rats. So, Margo wants to teach them to embrace something haram. Nothing more. Margo himself would rather eat lamb curry than disgusting grilled rats.”18 Meanwhile, Triman infiltrates Partindo, a political party that, as history tells us, had become leftist since its revival in 1957. When the tables are turned, Margo and his friends are killed and buried on the riverbank. With his mentor dead, it is as if Karman wakes up from a spell and realises his mistakes in being associated with the PKI, as he explains to his interrogator: “By joining Margo’s circle I planned to get revenge. Or, if possible, to get that rice field back. I don’t understand why I eventually got carried away in this terrifying situation.”19 His confession suggests that he is not a committed leftist, so that even the interrogator realises that “[Karman] should be called an irresponsible and cowardly cadre.”20 He is nevertheless shipped to Buru Island for his association with the PKI, and freed only in 1979. Repented by the time he is released from Buru, Karman voluntarily offers to renovate the village mosque he once abhorred. The villagers, in turn, show humanitarian sentiment by accepting Karman with open arms, while Haji Bakir’s grandson courts Karman’s daughter, suggesting that they disagree with the regime’s “Clean Environment” policy. Despite its sympathy toward the victims of manipulation who have paid for their sins, the anti-leftist sentiments are very strong in this novel, with members of the PKI invariably shown to be evil and women connected to the party behaving salaciously, which is in line with the New Order regime’s grand narrative. Another novel that juxtaposes the PKI with religion is Ajip Rosidi’s Anak Tanah Air, which is well received academically. Keith Foulcher praises it as a “remarkable” novel for its portrayal of the cultural debate in the 1950s and 1960s as well as for avoiding the cliché of the “innocent victims” theme, as “[i]t is not a story of ‘innocent victims’ of a national tragedy, but a detailed attempt to illustrate the circumstances which might have led an individual artist to make a left-wing political commitment in 1950s Indonesia.”21 Ariel Heryanto also mentions Anak Tanah Air as one of “[s]everal literary and theatrical works [that] come to more prominence in deconstructing the master narrative of simulacral threats.”22 Nevertheless, the novel actually supports the New Order regime’s anti-leftist grand narrative by portraying members of Lekra as manipulators. The novel’s blurb already suggests anti-leftist sentiments, with the main protagonist, a painter, said to be lured away from religion by left-wing ideology; it says: Ardi, who used to pray diligently, shunned religion after witnessing practices that were not in accordance with the teachings of the religion he adhered to, and he eventually joined a cultural organisation that was influential at the time [Lekra] and which provided him with many perks. However, Ardi realised later that he took the wrong path.23

36  Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery The allusion to a “wrong path” in terms of left- and right-wing ideology is already foreshadowed at the beginning of the novel, when young Ardi ponders the possibility of turning left or right en route to his new life in Jakarta, as the omniscient narrator describes: “Where? To the left or to the right? It will always be like that, with crossroads demanding one path to be chosen, although no one knows what lies beyond.”24 The novel is divided into three parts, with the first being narrated by an omniscient narrator, the second by Ardi, and the final part by Ardi’s friend, Hasan. In addition to religion, the novel focuses on artistic freedom, or rather the lack thereof. As the novel concludes, “according to communism, art is not free.”25 Ardi is depicted as being easily influenced, as shown by the concerns voiced by his artist friends whose view represents the Cultural Manifesto. Ahmad, for instance, warns him about Lekra’s motto, “Politics is the Commander”, saying: You don’t know the communists’ tricks. They’ll offer you everything nice until you join their party. Once inside, you’ll be used to achieve their political goals. For them, art is merely a tool to achieve political goals, because politics is put above everything else.26 Another friend, Hasan, also warns, “Don’t be tempted by praises coming from those people [members of Lekra].”27 Ardi’s conversion to the Left is slowly but surely engineered by the communists, who in 1957 half-trick and halfpressure him, as well as many other artists, into signing a statement supporting “Konsepsi Presiden Soekarno” (President Soekarno’s Conception) that is supposed to pave the way for the Guided Democracy. The list of the signatories is printed in a newspaper, and they are seen as communist sympathisers. As a result, Ardi not only loses his friends, but also his job and income. When he falls ill, members of Lekra step in to help him, causing him to unconsciously warm further towards them.28 Ardi’s downfall is summed up in an article that details how “a young painter named Ardi, gullible and knowing nothing about politics, is now walking right into the communists’ trap.”29 Ardi is likely killed for his involvement with Lekra, but it is implied that he does not deserve it, as he was not a leftist at heart. Even before the defeat of the Left, he already regretted the idea of using his artistic talents to create propaganda posters for Lekra, saying, “Am I fated to become a prostitute-painter, dictated to by clients who know nothing about paintings?”30 Moreover, he had planned to quit Lekra shortly before September 30, 1965.31 Unfortunately for Ardi, there is no evidence of it, as on paper, he is still a member of Lekra by the time leftists are being hunted down. Hasan, a fellow artist, embraces “Art for Art’s Sake” instead, believing that “[n]o power, not even political power, can restrain art. Restrained art is not art.”32 Hasan is anti-Soekarno, as shown by his lecture, for example, that paints Soekarno as a dictator – he states that “the President has committed a serious

Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery  37 violation when he appointed Citizen Soekarno, namely himself, as the formator of the cabinet!”33 – or by his diary entry, where he writes: the judges in my country are not an independent authority, but are placed under the authority of the Great Leader of the Revolution [Soekarno]. Thus, for my nation right now, justice is only an empty hope, like that of a fairyland.34 Hasan disapproves of Soekarno’s Guided Democracy, a.k.a. socialism à la Indonesia, which he sees as “a preparatory level leading to a communist society.”35 Criticisms of the PKI and what could happen should the PKI win are abundant in the novel and are often voiced by liberal artists like Hasan and Ahmad. For instance, it is said that “communists are always good at luring people in, promising grandiose things, which they will actually never fulfil. If they hold power, democracy will not be allowed to take place,”36 or, “[i]f they were to sit in the cabinet, their ministers would not abide laws set by a prime minister who is not a communist, but they would only do what is stipulated by their own politburo.”37 Unverified stories about the PKI, likely spread by the New Order regime after the defeat of the Left, are presented in the novel as facts, such as the news about the PKI’s suggestion that farmers should eat rats.38 Hasan, the narrator of the final part of the novel, unquestioningly accepts the regime’s lurid version of the killings of the generals, as he notes in his diary: “The perpetrators of the massacre are members of Pemuda Rakyat and Gerakan Wanita Indonesia, two organisations affiliated with the PKI. The murderers danced on the mutilated dead bodies that they later dumped in a pit.”39 Being a devout Muslim, he thanks God for the defeat of the Left in Indonesia, noting: “He saved my nation and people from the clutch of the communists.”40 As the protagonist’s fall is depicted to be caused by the expert manipulation of the communists, Anak Tanah Air serves to strengthen the New Order regime’s grand narrative about the latent dangers of communism. An Anti-Leftist Novel for Children While Anak Tanah Air necessitates a familiarity with the political situation in the 1950s–1960s, Mencoba Tidak Menyerah (1979) is told in a child’s voice and is an easy read. Narrated by an 11-year-old son of a persecuted alleged communist, it is likely aimed at children. The novel received a warm reception, becoming a runner-up in a competition held by the Jakarta Arts Council in 1977. The original title, Aku Bukan Komunis (lit. I Am Not a Communist), immediately indicates that the novel deals with “innocent victims” of the anti-leftist purge. The first-person narrator relates various events leading to October 1, 1965, that show the PKI in a negative light, for instance when PKI-sympathisers are said to behave menacingly and disrespectfully in front of a mosque.41 Following the killings of the generals, the narrator accepts the grand narrative that

38  Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery [the generals] were murdered after being tortured by members of Gerwani at the Crocodile’s Pit. The generals’ eyes were gouged out, their bodies butchered like lambs that were to be made into satay, in an insane orgy with songs and naked dance.42 Unfortunately, the protagonist’s family falls into abject poverty after his father, a distributor of the left-leaning dailies Harian Rakjat and Warta Bhakti, is accused of being a communist and their house is mobbed. The child narrator voices the absurdity of such persecution, aimed at people with tenuous connections with the PKI, saying: If Father happened to be the distributor of those PKI dailies, he is obviously innocent and should not be classified as a member of the PKI. Moreover, at that time, there were no other dailies in our town except those PKI dailies.43 The father eventually goes missing, likely having been killed, as the children find many corpses in shallow graves around town while looking for him, signalling the presence of mass killings. The novel ends with a sense of impending doom, with the children’s future hanging by a thread because of the regime’s excessive “Clean Environment” policy, as the narrator conveys: The only thing that we – my elder siblings and I – might still do is perhaps try to finish school until the end of the school year … Could this simple thing be done? No idea. I can’t be sure because things happen so swiftly in this life. Things that can change and destroy one’s fate and future, however much one tries to keep away from them.44 The popular novel drew academic attention by the time of its publication, with Savitri Scherer noting that, “[p]robably because of the sensitive nature of the topic, the author has chosen to treat his material very carefully and has taken exceptional care with his narrative style.”45 As a result of this precaution, Mencoba Tidak Menyerah does not defy the supposed veracity of the New Order regime’s anti-leftist line and even supports the regime’s other grand narrative – that against Chinese Indonesians who were used as political scapegoats under the regime – by duly depicting them as exploitative.46 Mencoba Tidak Menyerah has also received acknowledgement for its treatment of Indonesian modern history. Keith Foulcher, commenting on Sapardi Djoko Damono’s review that the novel has more value as a social document than a work of literature – thus implying that the novel is historically ­accurate47 – defends it as a breakthrough in terms of historical narrative, arguing that “Mencoba Tidak Menyerah tacitly rejects the literary conventions of the 1970s and contributes to the new development, the use of remembered history as a subject of creative narrative.”48 The novel indeed depicts the reality

Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery  39 that was the mass killings, but it should be noted that the New Order regime never denied the existence of the bloodied anti-leftist purge. In other words, although accurate in noting the occurrence of the purge, the novel corroborates the regime’s justifications of the mass killings by depicting leftists in the same way the regime had. Anti-Leftist Novels for Women: Tales of Communists’ Wife Alongside weak-minded individuals and their children, womenfolk are also depicted as the innocent victims of the communists, as shown in Ashadi Siregar’s Jentera Lepas (1979) and N. H. Dini’s Jalan Bandungan (1989). Jentera Lepas is told from the perspective of Budiman, a journalist. In a flashback, Budiman is shown to have endured a hard time during the period of Guided Democracy, since he openly supports the Cultural Manifesto. Lecturers at Gadjah Mada University are depicted as aggressively pro-Soekarno and oppress students like Budiman who think differently. In 1964, for instance, he is summoned by a lecturer who, citing Soekarno, accuses him of being counterrevolutionary, stating: “Cultural Manifesto as emphasised by Bung Karno is counter-revolutionary!”49 The lecturer threatens to fail him if he continues producing and acting in plays that represent the liberal arts, suggesting the lack of freedom under the Guided Democracy: “If you want your studies to go smoothly, you must adapt to principles adopted by this university. This university is a pioneer in supporting the policies of the state. Do not get carried away with counter-revolutionary artistic activities.”50 In this aspect, Budiman is loosely based on Sapardi Djoko Damono, who signed the Cultural Manifesto and was active in artistic projects during his time at Gadjah Mada University until his graduation in 1964, the year Siregar (and his fictitious character Budiman) began his studies there.51 The novel is critical of students who support Soekarno’s Trikora, a military operation aiming to annex the Dutch overseas territory of New Guinea in 1961 and 1962, and Soekarno’s “Crush Malaysia” in the Indonesia-­Malaysia confrontation in 1963, calling them “students who prefer – and are even proud of – wearing a combat uniform to reading books.”52 These students, who belong to pro-Soekarno organisations, are said to be constantly fighting with each other, clearly implying their aggressiveness.53 Youths belonging to left-leaning Pemuda Rakyat and Gerakan Pemuda Marhaenis are also invariably depicted to be aggressive.54 Soekarno is accordingly shown as a warmonger who encourages these youths. As Budiman says, referring to the IndonesiaMalaysia confrontation, “President Soekarno keeps provoking [Malaysia]. Troops are already deployed at the Malay Peninsula, even.”55 Budiman himself is anti-Soekarno and anti-leftist, but he fights in a peaceful way: The first task Budiman did to fight the PKI was to create pamphlets to balance out those made by the supporters of the Revolutionary Council.

40  Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery And then he wrote news that was to be released in newspapers which led to campaigns to quell the PKI.56 Whereas his studies are in tatters because of his open allegiance to the Right, which earns him the animosity of his lecturers, his prospects brighten after the defeat of the Left. The novel sums up Budiman’s career as follows: In 1966 they drudged, making posters. They dropped them at schools in order to invite pupils, even those in shorts [that is, middle schoolers], to go demonstrating. They wrote graffiti on clean walls to attack President Soekarno. After all of these were done and dusted … Budiman returned to Jogjakarta, continuing his studies while working as a journalist.57 While Budiman leads a peaceful life in the New Order period, those with connections to the Left face intolerable suffering. Through his perspective, readers are introduced to people who become victims of the anti-leftist purge, with several being innocent and others deserving their predicaments. Budiman’s old teacher, Parmanto, is depicted as an innocent victim, since he joins the left leaning PGRI Non Vak Sentral only because he is pressured by his boss. As he explains before 1965: “I don’t like participating in [political] parades. But what can I do? The director of my school joined PGRI Non Vak Sentral … I was told that if one wants to advance their career, one must join.”58 As expected, Parmanto is sent to prison. Budiman sympathises, observing that the kind-hearted teacher, now a poor blue-collar worker, has become “a thin man, old, ruined by Ambarawa Prison.”59 Budiman particularly sympathises with his landlady, Mbakyu Sinto, whose fate takes a turn for the worse because of her leftist husband, Karsono. Apart from being subjected to tedious interrogations, she loses her livelihood and her unborn baby. She herself is not a leftist; even before the defeat of the Left, she already disapproved of her husband’s left-wing politics, stating: “I’d rather see Mas Karsono work a regular job. No need to be political. He leads the worker’s union at his workplace.”60 She did not participate in the parades organised by the Left either, earning the dislike of her leftist (hence intolerant) neighbours, who, “[b]ecause [she] never participated, behave cynically.”61 Budiman shows no sympathy for Karsono, however, who is a militant member of the PKI and a drunkard. Karsono takes part not only in the military training in Semarang during the IndonesianMalaysia Confrontation, but also in Halim, meaning that he wishes to participate in the coup that, as the New Order regime would later declare, was successfully quelled by Soeharto. There is also Harjito, a formerly well-off neighbour whose father joins the worker’s union at his workplace and ends up on Buru Island, with his family living in abject poverty. Harjito, who is not implicated in the doings of the PKI, renounces his father, saying: “Father, who imposes his will, deserves to be exiled. But I’m sad to see my mother. She must walk from house to house looking for junk.”62 Harjito voices what “innocent

Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery  41 victims” of the anti-leftist purge must endure, bitterly stating, “Do we have to accept this deplorable situation, only because we are the family of a member of the PKI?”63 After the defeat of the PKI, Budiman feels that he still has tasks ahead since, like many anti-leftist individuals from that period, he feels that the New Order government, which they supported at the beginning, has the potential to become as corrupt as the Old Order, so he joins the student anti-corruption movements that would culminate in the Malari Incident in 1974. Budiman represents liberal-minded individuals who refuse to be put in the same basket as corrupt officials of the New Order regime, whose aberrance was already rampant by the time the novel was being written in 1979: He felt that he had contributed to the change of power, although he realises that his contribution was no more than a small pebble at the start of the New Order. That’s why he entirely agreed with the anti-­corruption movement conducted by the students. He knew that the New Order government needed strict control, remembering that the Old Order government had gone astray after silencing criticism.64 Budiman’s political stance reflects that of the author who, as a few scholars have stated, sympathises with “innocent victims” of the purge but condemns real left-leaning individuals, hinting at his allegiance to liberalism.65 Like fictitious Budiman, Siregar signed an Anti-Corruption Manifesto on July 25, 1970 and participated in various movements against the New Order regime.66 Siregar also founded a weekly, Sendi, that was banned by the regime in 1972 for criticising rampant political corruption.67 It is common for anti-leftist and liberalminded artists to be highly critical of the New Order regime; B ­ udiman – and, by extension, the author – adds to the long list of protagonists who encourage sympathy for non-leftist individuals but strengthen the New Order regime’s anti-leftist grand narrative by portraying members of the PKI as aggressive and dangerous. Another popular novel that focuses on the sufferings of innocent women is N. H. Dini’s Jalan Bandungan. The protagonist, Muryati, is a woman from a priyayi family who unknowingly marries a leftist named Widodo. He is depicted as irresponsible and sexist, so that Muryati must fend for herself during their marriage. During the anti-leftist purge, Widodo is arrested, and only then does Muryati learn that he has been a member of the PKI. Muryati faces discrimination from friends and relatives because of Widodo’s involvement with the party, although she herself dislikes the PKI because, as the novel portrays, its members do not even hesitate to kill their own families. As she says: After reading dozens of works of world literature, I concluded that cadres of a communist party are formed in this way: one must prioritise idealism over one’s own family. According to the story of Mas Gun,

42  Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery a former subordinate of our father, my husband’s signature was found in the approval letter issued to execute the killings of families living in certain residential complexes. The complex where my mother lived is included on the list … Middle class and upper class, considered useless beyond help in building a new society, must be exterminated, according to what I read about the formation of cadres of that dangerous party.68 The novel implies that the New Order regime’s “Clean Self” policy is justified, because no leftist will repent, which is bluntly described as follows: However long are they imprisoned, and even though they seem changed at the outset, looking pious by embracing whatever religion, they are still rotten to the core. They pray, go to church, behave amicably, go with the flow; but they are still communists. My mother said that they are good at pretending, sneaking into unsuspected places. That’s what my mother, who lost her uncle and several relatives during the Madiun Affair, thought about the communists. Although her opinion was much influenced by grudge, there’s a lot of truth in that.69 Widodo indeed still proves to be a troublemaker when he is freed in 1979. Upon his demand for joint custody, Muryati behaves as is expected by the New Order regime, insisting that their son should not follow in his father’s footsteps: “He should never be turned into a communist, an enemy of the state.”70 On the contrary, Muryati admires European-educated individuals, such as her friend Ganik and her parents, who are depicted to embody those who are often erroneously deemed to be cosmopolitan individuals, namely being able to travel with ease thanks to their privileged backgrounds, with her concluding that, “[b]ecause they are well-read and well-travelled, they know what most Indonesians are not aware of … Dr Liantoro once said that he does not see himself as an Indonesian citizen any longer, but a citizen of the world.”71 Muryati herself strives to be more European-oriented, enjoying reading books by William Shakespeare and H. G. Wells, for example, and dreaming of opening an English-speaking kindergarten.72 As is common among the priyayi, she even enjoys living under the regime once she gets used to the corrupt government. While the novel deals harshly with the Left, it is lenient with the New Order regime, as reflected in Muryati’s advice to her son that paints the regime as a much better alternative to communism: No matter what kind of politics are governing us, we are well-off so far. We are blessed by God, ruled by the government that your father seems to continue hating … Of course, the government has many flaws. Many politicians are corrupt. But has it occurred to you that it is not easy to govern such a big country, with many ethnicities and islands that each possess a different culture?73

Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery  43 As with N. H. Dini’s other popular novels, Jalan Bandungan is aimed at women readers, with the majority of women reviewers displaying animosity towards the protagonist’s leftist husband.74 With such reception, it implies that the novel, which is never out of print, successfully conveys the dangers of communism to women as well, thus ensuring that the Red Scare in the country reaches both genders. Conclusion The selected novels in this chapter display a striking coherence of theme: the communists are thoroughly evil. Although the novels are often praised for discussing the taboo subject that is the PKI and for not depicting the New Order regime as perfect either, they actually strengthen the anti-leftist grand narrative of the regime by depicting the PKI exactly as the regime has always done. Kubah and Anak Tanah Air show how members of the PKI manipulate weak-minded people into joining their party, beyond the instance of farmers supposedly being told to eat rats. Anak Tanah Air and Mencoba Tidak Menyerah repeat the regime’s version of what happened at the Crocodile’s Pit: that the killings of the generals degenerated into an orgy involving members of Gerwani and Pemuda Rakyat. Jalan Bandungan conveys that members of the PKI will never change despite imprisonment, implying the latent danger of communism. As usual, the only variation from the regime’s anti-leftist grand narrative is that the “Clean Environment” policy is not condoned by these texts, but everything else demonstrates conformity to said narrative. These popular novels are aimed at wide audiences, including women and children, resulting in the Red Scare being constantly conveyed to all levels of society. Notes 1 Pamela Allen states that, “[d]espite the risks for writers involved in touching the subject, the New Order period was not entirely lacking in literary works dealing with 1965 and its aftermath. The most notable examples are Yudhistira Ardi Nugraha’s Mencoba Tidak Menyerah [Trying Not to Surrender] (1979), Ahmad Tohari’s trilogy Ronggeng Dukuh Paruk [The Dancer of Paruk Village] (which was heavily censored at the time of its publication), and Umar Kayam’s 1975 short story Bawuk.” Pamela Allen, “Sexuality, Politics, and Loss of Innocence,” in Linda Rae Bennett and Sharyn Graham Davies (eds.), Sex and Sexualities in Contemporary Indonesia: Sexual Politics, Health, Diversity and Representations (London and New York: Routledge, 2014), 305n. A publication by Tempo, aimed at a “national reconciliation,” similarly mentions that “[t]here are also many examples of novels that reproduced New Order anti-communist propaganda, including Anak Tanah Air: Secercah Kisah (1985, by Ajip Rosidi), Jalan Bandungan (1989, by N. H. Dini), and Ronggeng Dukuh Paruk (2003, by Ahmad Tohari.” Kurniawan et al, The Massacres: Coming to Terms With the Trauma of 1965 (Jakarta: Tempo, 2015). 2 Anna-Greta Nilsson Hoadley, Indonesian Literature vs. New Order Orthodoxy: The Aftermath of 1965–1966 (Copenhagen: NIAS Press, 2005), vii.

44  Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery 3 Bettina David points out that “the press may be a little premature in their celebration of authors like Laksmi Pamuntjak, Leila Chudori and Ayu Utami – all linked to the Salihara Cultural Centre in Jakarta – whose works supposedly dare to break the silence for the first time. This has caused outrage among authors critical of Salihara, including Linda Christanty and A. S. Laksana. They have rightly pointed out that even under Suharto, authors such as Umar Kayam and Ahmad Tohari produced a great deal of criticism, which took a lot more courage than it does now.” Bettina David, “The silence is broken,” Qantara, October 14, 2015. https://en.qantara. de/content/laksmi-pamuntjaks-novel-the-question-of-red-the-silence-is-broken. As discussed in Chapter 2, Kayam’s writings do however conform to the regime’s grand anti-leftist narrative. Tohari, mentioned beside Kayam, also produced similar writings in the 1980s alongside other famous names discussed in this section. 4 Keith Foulcher, analysing the same group of novels and focusing on Ajip Rosidi’s Anak Tanah Air, states that “present-day ideological imperatives demand that the sympathy be for innocent victims, individuals, families or communities wrongly implicated in the events of October 1965 or manipulated into a position of responsibility for those events. To a large extent these tales of innocent victims in fact reinforces the guilt of the extra-literary actors, the PKI and those who knowingly and willingly participated in its ruthless pursuits of power.” Keith Foulcher, “Making History: Recent Indonesian Literature and the Events of 1965,” in Robert Cribb (ed.), The Indonesian Killings 1965–1966: Studies from Java and Bali (Clayton: Monash University, 1990), 119. 5 A recent dissertation, for instance, mentions that “[i]nterestingly, Tohari’s novels were left untouched by state censorship. Ahmad Tohari was not the only one to have experienced such a fortunate condition. A small group of writers wrote their novels independently from each other about the same theme. Among them were two other literary authors, namely the journalist and novelist Yudhistira ANM Massardi (1954– ), from West Java, with his Mencoba Tidak Menyerah (Trying Not to Surrender, 1979) formerly Aku Bukan Komunis (I Am Not a Communist) and, likewise from West Java, the famous Sundanese poet and cultural entrepreneur, Ajip Rosidi (1938–2020) with his only novel Anak Tanah Air: Secercah Kisah (Son of the Fatherland: a Brief Story, 1985).” Taufiq Hanafi, Writing Novels Under the New Order: State Censorship, Complicity, and Literary Production in Indonesia, 1977–1986, PhD diss., University of Leiden, 2022, 3–4. 6 Nilsson Hoadley, for instance, mentions “[w]hile reading Ahmad Tohari’s novel Kubah I was struck by his attempt to deal with the hyper-sensitive issue surrounding the events of 1965. After having read other works by him, as well as novels by Umar Kayam, Ajip Rosidi, Yudhistira ANM Massardi, Ashadi Siregar, and Nh. Dini I began see a common theme … [They were] being punished only because of association with Communists or suspected Communists.” Anna-Greta Nilsson Hoadley, Indonesian Literature, vii. 7 “Seorang terpelajar yang sangat terpengaruh oleh pikiran-pikiran Muso lolos dari Madiun dan menjadi guru di Pegaten … Cerdik dan ulet serta sangat gemar membaca buku atau brosur yang menyangkut partainya.” Ahmad Tohari, Kubah (Jakarta: Pustaka Jaya, 1979), 30. 8 “[A]nak muda itu punya sejarah demikian rupa sehingga mudah dipengaruhi dan dibina menjadi kader pilihan.” Ibid., 31. 9 “Because he is too proud of his priyayi status, Pak Mantri feels he is too grand to work in a field … Eventually Haji Bakir relents and the exchange takes place. A part of Pak Mantri’s land is exchanged for five quintals of rice” [“[K]arena begitu membanggakan kepriyayiannya, Pak Mantri merasa dirinya tak pantas menggarap sawah … [A]khirnya Haji Bakir mengalah. Dan terjadilah tukar- menukar itu. Sebagian sawah Pak Mantri ditukar dengan lima kwintal padi”]. Ibid., 31.

Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery  45 10 “[K]ini mereka mempunyai waktu tiga bulan lagi untuk memberi Karman bacaanbacaan yang berisi doktrin-doktrin partai komunis dan pikiran-pikiran Lenin.” Ibid., 36. 11 Ibid. 12 “Margo tak pernah berkata dengan jujur bahwa di luar masalah bawon, Sanawi juga taat membayar zakat setiap kali panen.” Ibid., 29. 13 Ibid., 43. 14 “Hanya setahun sejak perkenalannya dengan kelompok Margo, perubahan besar terjadi pada pribadi Karman. la menjadi sinis … Karman pun mulai berani berterus terang meninggalkan mesjid, meninggalkan peribadatan. Bahkan tentang agama, Karman sudah pandai mengutip kata-kata Margo, bahwa agama adalah candu untuk membius kaum tertindas.” Ibid., 38. 15 “Sempurnalah kebenciannya terhadap Haji Bakir, hal mana sangat diinginkan oleh Margo dan kelompoknya. Dalam perkembangannya nanti, Karman bukan hanya benci kepada ayah Rifah, tetapi juga terhadap para haji dan orang-orang kaya lainnya.” Ibid., 50. 16 “Suti menggunakan partai untuk berahinya, atau ia menyalurkan berahi demi partai.” Ibid., 45. 17 “Kalaulah Suti bukan perempuan istimewa, tentu suaminya akan membawa pentungan, masuk ke kamar dan menangkap basah istrinya yang sering melayani orangorang seperti Triman, konon demi partai.” Ibid., 45. 18 “Orang Pegaten mengharamkan tikus. Jadi Margo hanya ingin mengajari orang Pegaten menghalalkan sesuatu yang diharamkan. Tidak lebih. Margo sendiri ternyata lebih suka gulai kambing daripada panggang daging binatang yang menjijikkan itu.” Ibid., 54. 19 “Dengan masuk ke dalam lingkaran Margo aku bermaksud membalaskan sakit hatiku. Atau kalau bisa, aku mendapatkan kembali sawah itu. Ah, aku tidak mengerti bahwa akhirnya aku harus terbawa dalam situasi yang sangat menakutkan ini.” Ibid., 59. 20 “Kalau begitu kamu patut mendapat sebutan kader yang tidak bertanggung jawab dan pengecut.” Ibid. 21 Keith Foulcher, “Making History,” 109. 22 Ariel Heryanto, “Where Communism Never Dies: Violence, Trauma and Narration in the Last Cold War Capitalist Authoritarian State.” International Journal of Cultural Studies 2, no. 2 (1999): 163. 23 “Ardi yang pada mulanya rajin sembahyang, kemudian menjauhi agama sama sekali karena menyaksikan prakték-prakték yang tidak sesuai dengan ajaran agama yang dianutnya, untuk akhirnya masuk dalam sebuah organisasi kebudayaan yang berpengaruh pada saat itu dan yang memberinya banyak fasilitas. Akan tetapi di kemudian hari Ardi sadar bahwa ia menempuh jalan yang sesat.” Ajip Rosidi, Anak Tanah Air (Jakarta: Gramedia, 1985), 381. 24 Ibid., 7. 25 “[M[enurut paham komunisme, kesenian tidaklah bebas.” Ibid., 335. 26 “‘Kau belum tahu permainan komunis,’ kata Ahmad. ‘Segala yang akan menyenangkan hatimu akan ditawarkannya belaka, sampai kau masuk ke dalam kubunya. Kalau nanti sudah masuk, kau akan mereka manfaatkan buat mencapai tujuan-­ tujuan politiknya. Kesenian bagi mereka hanyalah alat belaka untuk mencapai tujuan politik, karena politiklah yang utama.’” Ibid., 196. This statement is repeated in the final part that is narrated by Hasan: “All of you will be lured using many ways and forms, openly or stealthily, to join their party. Once inside, you will only become a tool for the party” [“Saudara-saudara akan dibujuk dengan berbagai cara dan bentuk, kasar ataupun halus, agar masuk ke dalam kubunya. Kalau sekali sudah di dalam, Saudara hanya akan menjadi alat partainya belaka”]. Ibid., 309.

46  Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery 7 “Jangan tergiur oleh pujian orang-orang itu.” Ibid., 86. 2 28 “At that critical moment, members of Lekra came and offered him an opportunity to have an exhibition and a job at a magazine. He felt his life had been saved” [“Pada saat yang genting itu datanglah orang Lekra menawarkan kesempatan berpameran dan memberinya pekerjaan dalam sebuah majalah. Ia merasa tertolong hidupnya”]. Ibid., 347. 29 “[P]elukis muda Ardi yang polos dan tidak tahu a-b-c politik sekarang masuk perangkap kaum komunis.” Ibid., 308. 30 “Haruskah aku menjadi pelukis pelacur yang didikte oleh pemesannya yang tak tahu apa-apa tentang seni Lukis?” Ibid., 293. 31 As Hasan notes in his diary, “What impresses me most is his statement that he wants to quit Lekra” [“[Y]ang sangat berkesan kepadaku ialah perkataannya yang menyatakan niatnya keluar dari Lekra”]. Ibid., 369. 32 “Takkan ada kekuatan apapun, termasuk kekuatan politik, yang dapat mengungkung kesenian. Kalau kesenian dikungkung, maka yang lahir bukan kesenian.” Ibid., 287. 33 “Presiden melakukan suatu pelanggaran besar ketika dia menunjuk warga negara Soekarno, yaitu dirinya sendiri, sebagai formatur kabinet,” Ibid., 91. 34 “[H]akim negeriku bukanlah suatu kekuasaan bebas yang berdiri sendiri, melainkan diletakkan di bawah wewenang Pemimpin Besar Revolusi. Maka keadilan merupakan suatu harapan kosong seperti di alam dongeng saja bagi bangsaku sekarang.” Ibid., 365. 35 “Yang ada barulah negara sosialis, yaitu tingkatan persiapan ke arah masyarakat komunis.” Ibid., 336. 36 “Memang orang komunis di mana-mana pandai membujuk hati rakyat, menjanjikan berbagai hal yang muluk-muluk, yang sebenarnya takkan pernah mereka penuhi. Kalau mereka memegang kekuasaan, demokrasi tidak akan boleh berjalan.” Ibid., 127. 37 “Kalau mereka duduk dalam kabinet, maka menteri-menterinya tidak akan melaksanakan kebijaksanaan yang telah digariskan oleh perdana menteri yang bukan orang komunis, melainkan akan ditentukan oleh politbiro partainya.” Ibid., 185. 38 “K. H. Anwar Sanusi became a headline in various newspapers because he published a fatwa that rat meat is halal to eat. The fatwa was in line with the advice of the chairman of the PKI to villagers whose fields were infested with rats” [“K. H. Anwar Sanusi merebut tempat dalam berbagai surat kabar karena ia memberitakan fatwa bahwa daging tikus halal dimakan. Fatwa itu sejalan dengan anjuran ketua PKI kepada rakyat di pedesaan yang sawahnya diserang hama tikus yang merajalela …”]. Ibid., 127. 39 “Pelaku pembantaian itu adalah anggota Pemuda Rakyat dan Gerakan Wanita Indonesia, dua organisasi yang berinduk kepada PKI. Para pembantai itu menari-nari di atas bangkai yang mereka cincang kemudian mereka benamkan ke dalam sumur mati.” Ibid., 371. 40 “Dialah yang telah menyelamatkan negara dan bangsaku dari cengkeraman kaum komunis.” Ibid., 374. 41 “Shaking their fists and jutting their butts toward the mosque, they shouted, ‘God is dead! God is dead!’” [“Sambil mengacung-acungkan tinju dan memledingkan pantat mereka ke arah masjid itu, mereka berseru, ‘Tuhan sudah mati! Tuhan sudah mati!’”] Yudhistira Massardi, Mencoba Tidak Menyerah (Jakarta: Yayasan Bentang Budaya, 1979), 14. 42 “[M]ereka dibunuh oleh anggota-anggota Gerwani di Lubang Buaya dengan disiksa terlebih dahulu. Jenderal-jenderal itu dicungkil matanya, dipotong-potong tubuhnya seperti kambing yang hendak dibikin sate, dalam sebuah upacara nyanyi dan tari telanjang yang gila.” Ibid., 17.

Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery  47 43 “[K]alau kebetulan Bapak menjadi agen-agen koran PKI itu, jelas tidak bersalah dan tidak bisa dianggap bahwa Bapak pun orang PKI! Lagipula, waktu itu, di kota kami memang tidak ada koran yang lain kecuali koran-koran PKI tersebut.” Ibid., 65. 44 “Satu-satunya yang masih bisa kami hadapi, barangkali hanya mengusahakan sekuat tenaga agar aku dan kakak-kakak bisa bertahan untuk menyelesaikan sekolah sampai akhir tahun ini … Bisa terlaksanakah cita-cita kami yang hanya sedikit itu? Entahlah. Aku sendiri tidak bisa memastikannya, sebab, sesuatu ternyata gampang saja terjadi di dunia ini. Sesuatu yang bisa mengubah dan menghancurkan diri dan nasib serta masa depan seseorang, betapapun tidak dikehendakinya hal itu.” Ibid., 158. 45 Savitri Scherer, “Yudhistira Ardi Noegraha: Social Attitudes in the Works of a Popular Writer.” Indonesia 31 (April 1981): 35. 46 The narrator sees through the subtle tricks played by the Chinese-Indonesian family to exploit him, complaining that “[t]he fact that they wash while I’m filling the basin annoys me. I feel that the house owner exploits me. Because in that way I work twice as hard, and they receive double profit” [“[K]enyataan bahwa mereka mandi sementara aku sedang mengisi baknya, sungguh mengganggu perasaanku. Aku merasa bahwa pemilik rumah itu memeras tenangaku. Sebab, dengan begitu aku berarti mesti bekerja dua kali lebih berat, dan keuntungan yang mereka peroleh dua kali lebih besar”]. Yudhistira Massardi, Mencoba Tidak Menyerah, 88. The family is also obliged to pawn their few jewellery to a “Chinese shop owner.” Ibid., 48. 47 See: Sapardi Djoko Damono, “Dokumen Melodramatik.” Tempo (February 2, 1980): 39–40. 48 Keith Foulcher, “Making History,” 103. 49 “Manifes Kebudayaan sebagaimana ditegaskan Bung Karno adalah kontra revolusi!” Ashadi Siregar, Jentera Lepas (Jakarta: Gramedia, 1979), 24. 50 “Kalau saudara mau lancar dalam studi, saudara harus menyesuaikan diri dengan prinsip-prinsip yang ada di universitas ini. Universitas inilah pionir dalam mendukung garis besar haluan negara. Karena itu, jangan ikut-ikut gerakan kebudayaan yang kontrarevolusi.” Ibid., 20. 51 Damono once directed Iwan Simatupang’s play entitled “Petang di Taman,” and often played roles in W. S. Rendra’s theatre group. Simatupang embraced magical realism instead of social realism, and Rendra was one of the signatories of the Cultural Manifesto. In other words, their art did not conform to Lekra’s definition of “Art for People’s Sake.” 52 “Mahasiswa-mahasiswa yang lebih suka bahkan punya kebanggaan berpakaian tempur tentara daripada membaca buku …” Ibid., 93. 53 One of the characters complains about brawls among pro-Soekarno students: “The point of participating in a parade is to show solidarity to the revolution. But they were fighting and tussling … CGMI against GMNI. Weird, both shouted ‘Long live Bung Karno,’ yet they brawled with each other” [“Maksudnya ikut pawai ‘kan untuk menunjukkan solidaritas-revolusi. Eh, kok malah berkelahi. Malah gontokgontokan … CGMI sama GMNI. Aneh, sama-sama teriak hidup Bung Karno, kok bisa-bisanya tawur”]. Ibid., 46. In an interview with an alumnus who was a sophomore at Gadjah Mada University in 1964, brawls between CGMI and GMNI on a large scale were unheard of, with altercations between CGMI and Muslim-oriented HMI being more common. 54 As described by Budiman’s landlady, “[m]ost [kampong youths] become members of Pemuda Rakyat or Gerakan Pemuda Marhaenis. It’s better to have nothing to do with them … When they already don black, they are even fiercer than soldiers” [“Kebanyakan [anak muda kampung] jadi anggota Pemuda Rakyat atau Gerakan Pemuda Marhaenis. Memang lebih baik tidak berurusan dengan mereka … Kalau sudah berpakaian hitam-hitam, galaknya melebihi tentara”]. Ashadi Siregar, Jentera Lepas, 50.

48  Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery 55 “Presiden Soekarno nantang-nantang terus. Malahan sudah ada tentara yang dikirim ke Semenanjung Malaya.” Ibid., 82. 56 “Sedang pekerjaan pertama yang dilakukan Budiman dalam memerangi PKI itu adalah membuat pamflet mengimbangi yang dibuat oleh pendukung Dewan Revolusi. Dan kemudian dia membuat berita-berita yang dirilis ke surat-surat kabar yang berkampanye menumpas PKI.” Ibid., 119–120. 57 “Tahun enam enam yang lalu, mereka galang-gulung bersama membikin posterposter. Mendrop pamflet-pamflet ke sekolah-sekolah untuk mengajak para pelajar tak peduli masih bercelana pendek, untuk ikut demonstrasi. Mencoreti tembok bersih dengan tulisan-tulisan menyerang Presiden Soekarno. Dan setelah selesai … Budiman kembali ke Yogya, meneruskan kuliah sembari menjadi koresponden.” Ibid., 188. 58 “Saya juga nggak senang ikut-ikut pawai. Tapi bagaimana ya? Direktur sekolahan saya masuk PGRI Non Vak Sentral … Katanya kalau mau naik kariernya, harus ikut.” Ibid., 47. 59 “Lelaki kurus, tua, dan telah dihancurkan penjara Ambarawa.” Ibid., 190. 60 “Sebenarnya saya lebih senang kalau Mas Karsono kerja biasa saja. Nggak usah ikutikut politik. Dia mimpin organisasi buruh di perusahaan tempatnya kerja.” Ibid., 50. 61 “Karena saya nggak pernah ikut pawai-pawai, mereka sinis.” Ibid. 62 “Bapak yang hanya memaksakan kehendaknya, sudah sepantasnya dibuang. Tapi saya sedih melihat ibu saya. Dia harus berjalan dari rumah ke rumah mencari barang loakan.” Ibid., 185. 63 “Apa karena kita keluarga PKI, kita harus menerima keadaan yang begini terus?” Ibid., 183. 64 Dia merasa ikut dalam penegakan kekuasaan itu, walaupun dia sadar bahwa sumbangannya tidak lebih dari kerikil kecil selama saat-saat permulaan Orde Baru. Karena itu dia sangat setuju pada gerakan antikorupsi yang dilaksanakan oleh mahasiswa. Dia tahu bahwa pemerintah Orde Baru ini memerlukan kontrol yang ketat, karena ingat pemerintahan Orde Lama menjadi salah arah akibat membunuh kritik.” Ibid, 123. 65 As observed by two literary scholars who analysed Jentera Lepas, Siregar’s sympathy only extends to the “innocent victims” of the purge. Bakri Siregar, the former head of the North Sumatran branch of Lekra, wrote that “[h]e [Ashadi Siregar] obviously blames communists like Karsono, Mbakyu Sinto’s husband, and Harjito’s father. But he asks for sympathy for Parmanto, the middle school teacher who joined the PGRI (Persatuan Guru RI) Non Vak Sentral” [“Dia terang menyalahkan aktivis komunis seperti Karsono, suami Mbakyu Sinto, dan bapak Harjito. Tapi dia minta pengertian terhadap Parmanto, guru SMP yang masuk PGRI (Persatuan Guru RI) non-vaksentral”]. Bakri Siregar, “Kisah Budiman dan Mbakyu Sinto.” Tempo (May 31, 1980): 33. In a similar vein, David Hill wrote that “Ashadi’s attitude toward the PKI as a political party is clearly reflected in his protagonist, who shows antipathy. However, his empathy and sympathy toward the families of members of the PKI – whom he sees as innocent victims – are equally clear. Regarding this, Ashadi reflects the attitude of liberal individuals in the current Indonesian society. That is, by condemning the PKI but pitying the innocent victims who happen to suffer because of a naïve connection with members of the PKI” [“Sikap Ashadi terhadap PKI sebagai partai politik jelas kelihatan dalam karakter tokohnya yang antipati. Namun demikian, keprihatinan serta simpatinya untuk keluarga orang PKI itu—yang dianggapnya korban yang tak bersalah—sama juga kelihatan. Dalam hal ini Ashadi mencerminkan sikap golongan liberal dalam masyarakat Indonesia sekarang. Yaitu, dengan mengutuk PKI, tetapi mengasihani orang tak berdosa yang secara kebetulan menderita karena asosiasi yang naif dengan anggota PKI”]. David Hill, “Seks dan Politik: Pembahasan Jentera Lepas.” Horison (April 1952): 55. 66 “[My] intimate friendship [with Umbu Landu Paranggi] had nothing to do with literary world, but rather with the student movements, [where we] participated in

Popular Novels and the New Order: Conformity behind the Bravery  49 various activities, such as the anti-corruption movement, golput (golongan putih, a movement to boycott the New Order’s first election in 1971), the protest against the non-budgetary funding for the Taman Mini Indonesia Indah (TMII) project, and lastly Malari in 1974” [“Pergaulan yang intens malah tidak ada pertaliannya dengan dunia sastra, melainkan sebagai aktivis gerakan mahasiswa, ikut dalam berbagai aktivitas seperti gerakan anti korupsi, golput (golongan putih, gerakan untuk memboikot Pemilihan Umum pertama Orde Baru, 1971), penentangan proyek dana non-budgeter untuk Taman Mini Indonesia Indah (TMII), dan terakhir Malari 1974”]. Ashadi Siregar, “Komunikasi Bermagnet dari Parpol untuk Pemimpin Nasional.” Kompas (April 6, 2016): 7. 67 “Sendi only lasted briefly, and then the Publication Permit was revoked by the Minister of Information (at that time Budiardjo) in early 1972, and I was charged for spreading hatred against the state and insulting President Suharto” [“Sendi hanya berumur semusim jagung, kemudian Surat Ijin Terbitnya dicabut oleh Menteri Penerangan (saat itu Budiardjo) awal 1972, dan saya diadili dengan dakwaan menyebarkan kebencian terhadap kekuasaan negara dan penghinaan Presiden Suharto”]. Ibid. 68 “Setelah membaca puluhan karya dunia, aku mendapat ke- simpulan bahwa pembibitan kader partai komunis memang demikian: orang harus mengutamakan idealisme daripada keluarganya sendiri. Menurut cerita Mas Gun, bekas anak buah bapak kami, tanda tangan suamiku tertera dalam persetujuan pembantaian keluarga tertentu yang tinggal di daerah-daerah pemukiman tertentu. keluarga-­ Daerah ibuku termasuk dalam daftar tersebut … Kelas atau golongan tengah dan atas, orang yang dianggap tidak bisa ditatar guna membangun masyarakat baru memang harus dimusnahkan, begitu menurut bacaanku mengenai pembentukan kader partai yang membahayakan itu.” N. H. Dini, Jalan Bandungan (Jakarta: Djambatan, 1985), 126. 69 “[B]erapa tahun pun mereka disekap, kelihatan dari luar sudah berubah, menjadi alim dengan memasuki agama apa pun, tetapi dalamnya tetap berulat. Mereka itu sembahyang, pergi ke gereja, ramah tamah, kelihatan mengalir bersama arus, tapi ya tetap komunis. Kata ibuku, mereka paling pintar berselubung. Menyelundup ke bagian-bagian yang paling tidak dicurigai. Itulah pendapat ibuku yang telah kehilangan paman dan beberapa saudara di zaman peristiwa Madiun. Meskipun pemikiran itu banyak didasari rasa dendam, tetapi banyak pula kebenarannya.” Ibid., 133. 70 “Jangan sampai dia dijadikan komunis, memusuhi pemerintah.” Ibid., 133. 71 “Karena banyak membaca dan menjelajahi negeri asing, mereka mengenal dan mengetahui apa yang kebanyakan orang Indonesia tidak tahu … Dokter Liantoro pernah mengatakan bahwa dirinya sudah tidak menganggap lagi hanya sebagai warganegara Indonesia. Kami ini warga dunia, katanya.” Ibid., 195. As mentioned in the Introduction, this is exactly what is not meant by “being cosmopolitan.” 72 “If there is enough capital, I might even open a kindergarten where the pupils would be given English lessons” [“Kalau mempunyai modal, bahkan barangkali bisa mendirikan Taman Kanak-kanak di mana muridnya diberi pelajaran berbahasa Inggris”]. Ibid., 124. 73 “[P]olitik pemerintah yang bagaimana pun, selama ini kita hidup dengan baik. Dilindungi Tuhan, diatur oleh pemerintah yang kelihatannya tetap dibenci oleh ayahmu … Tentu saja banyak kekurangan pemerintah. Banyak pejabatnya yang korupsi. Tapi apakah kamu pernah berpikir bahwa tidak gampang mengatur negara yang sebegini besar, dengan suku bangsa serta kepulauan yang tersebar luas, masing-masing memiliki adatnya sendiri-sendiri? Coba kamu bandingkan dengan Vietnam, dengan Irlandia!” Ibid., 328. 74 As shown on the popular reading site Goodreads, the majority of the reviewers are women. https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1165932.Jalan_Bandungan.

4 Wayang Novels From Nationalism to Universal Humanism

Wayang in the Grand Narrative Wayang scenes are drawn from two Indian epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, and have been used as a means of conveying political propaganda since the colonial period.1 Regardless of belief or ethnicity, many ordinary Indonesians were familiar with wayang.2 Those based on the Mahabharata, which narrates the war between two sets of cousins (the Pandawa and the Kurawa), were more popular during the 1950s and 1960s.3 This familiarity made associations with political figures and events easy. The Mahabharata’s interpretation in politics was oversimplified, however, with the Pandawa being seen to represent good, and the Kurawa evil. For instance, the PKI associated themselves with the Pandawa at the peak of their power.4 The tables were turned in 1965, and the PKI was associated with the Kurawa by their political enemies.5 This was convenient because the Kurawa are always positioned on the left-side of the dalang, coincidentally corresponding with the PKI’s left-wing politics. Soekarno also drew on wayang imagery in his heyday by associating himself with Karna, an honourable warrior who eventually sides with the Kurawa out of loyalty, and who was held in high regards by the Javanese,6 but this association backfired when the PKI became associated with the Kurawa. Resonating with Ted Yates’s coverage in Indonesia: The Troubled Victory (1967), Gertrude Resink claimed (rather naïvely) that members of the PKI accepted being killed because they associated themselves with the Kurawa, whose destiny was and is to be killed by the Pandawa: This also explains, finally, why so many calmly submitted to being killed as soon as the battle was lost for the Communists, or whoever were regarded as such. For after all, they had aligned themselves with the “left”, and taken the side of Karno, and, by inference, that of the Korawas and hence the raja seberang—that is, the inevitably losing side. It was no use fighting against the tragedy of fate.7 Meanwhile, Soeharto is associated with Semar, a servant who is actually a god and guarantor of the Pandawa’s victory. The reference to Semar in the DOI: 10.4324/9781003297185-4

Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism  51 belatedly called “Supersemar” or “Su(rat) Per(intah) Se(belas) Mar(et)” (the Order of March 11) is obvious. Since Soeharto was established as the person who carried out the order, which included the outlawing of the PKI, it is implied that he was comparable to Semar, and as such, he was to be regarded as the protector of Indonesia from the PKI. Semar was likely chosen also to cast Soeharto’s lower social status (as opposed to Soekarno’s aristocratic origins) in a better light.8 Unlike its appropriation in politics, the power struggle in wayang is too complex to be explained in black and white terms. There is no polarity of good and evil in the Mahabharata since, instead of promoting black and white thinking, it encourages the audience to relive life decisions made by the characters, in which there is often no absolute right or wrong.9 The epic, which captures the philosophy of the four Veda in a more comprehensible way and is often hailed as the fifth Veda, formulates an invitation not to perceive people or events in strictly black-white terms. This nod to respect and tolerance resonates with the idea of cosmopolitanism and suggests that it is not a uniquely Western concept, but is deeply embedded in Indonesia’s cultural heritage. The New Order regime’s grand narrative, however, deconstructs these ethics and encourages the opposite – that is, thinking in dualistic terms and exercising zero tolerance against people who embrace left-wing politics. Wayang in Contemporary Indonesian Literature The appropriation of wayang stories in the modern context can also be found in literature.10 Wayang stories from the Ramayana, once less popular than the Mahabharata, have been appropriated more often in serious literature by writers who use them to criticise the very government that had helped to boost its popularity – that is, the New Order regime.11 Wayang novels have also increasingly gained recognition for their contextuality and qualify as contextual literature. Scholars in Indonesian studies were attempting to define what represents contextual literature at the same time wayang novels started gaining prominence in the 1980s. The discourse of “sastra kontekstuil” (contextual literature), introduced at the annual 1984 Sarasehan Kesenian (Art Workshop) in Solo, was spearheaded by Arief Budiman and Ariel Heryanto, who later became professors of Indonesian studies in Australia following the explosion in popularity of the major in Australian universities. Both scholars unanimously stated that they defy universalism and aim for contextuality.12 In an attempt to define contextual literature, Budiman referred to his past campaign against Lekra, explaining that he was not against social realism, but that other kinds of literature should exist as long as members of the public enjoy them, because this reason alone underlines their contextuality.13 It should be noted that Budiman was one of the signatories of the Cultural Manifesto and founders of the anti-leftist magazine Horison, and that his views on literature were naturally against the Left.

52  Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism Heryanto and Budiman did not give any concrete examples of literary texts that represented contextual literature, but novels that appropriate wayang stories and criticise both the Left and the authoritarian New Order regime seem to fall into this category. For instance, one of the wayang novels discussed in this section, Amba, was highly praised by Heryanto,14 suggesting that criticism of the Left, particularly when combined with Indonesia’s cultural heritage, is considered contextual in Indonesia. Wayang Novels and Promotion of National Unity Wayang was often used a tool to promote national unity in nationalistic literature, particularly under Soekarno’s government. Soekarno’s political orientation was left-wing, and he implemented “socialism with Indonesian characteristics” combined with nationalism and anti-imperialism.15 Pramoedya’s Perburuan (The Fugitive, 1950) accordingly promoted national unity and anti-colonialism during the Japanese occupation by rewriting the rivalry between Arjuna and Karna from the Mahabharata. Three decades later, Mangunwijaya’s Burung-Burung Manyar (The Weaverbirds, 1981) again draws on the same wayang story to promote national unity under Soeharto’s divisive regime. Arjuna and Karna are always shown in wayang as arch-rivals whose destiny is to kill one another, but both authors altered the epic’s outcome to promote nationalism. In Perburuan, the characters representing Arjuna and Karna reunite to repel the colonisers, and in Burung-Burung Manyar they reunite to resist the neocolonisers. Perburuan was published by Balai Pustaka in 1950, 1954, and 1959. Although Pramoedya would later become involved with Lekra and relentlessly promote social realism, the novel, written when the Cold War had barely begun, deals rather with nationalism than leftist teachings. Nevertheless, it was later banned in Indonesia, but Perburuan was well known internationally: in 1975, when Pramoedya was still imprisoned, it was translated into English by Harry Aveling under the title The Fugitive and sold in Asian countries outside Indonesia, with a wayang figure on its cover, cementing its status as a wayang novel. It was again translated into English by John McGlynn (under the pen name Willem Samuels) and published in the United States in 1990. As was befitting of the general mood at the peak of the decolonisation movement in the 1940s, Perburuan addresses the human rights violations brought about by colonialism. The main protagonist, Den Hardo, is of noble birth and becomes a fugitive because of his resistance to the Japanese occupation. He returns incognito, disguised as a beggar, but his fiancée’s father, horrified at the prospect of having a beggar as a son-in-law, tips off the Japanese army. In the meantime, Hardo encounters an old friend, Dipo, with whom he disagrees about Karmin, a former ally. Karmin has broken his promise to aid the revolutionary fighters and has joined the Japanese army instead. Dipo wants to execute him for his treachery, but Hardo insists on letting him live. Karmin, in turn, eventually saves Hardo from being killed by the Japanese soldiers. The novel closes

Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism  53 with their reconciliation – “Hardo offered his hand and Karmin took it in his own”16 – which symbolises the national unity deemed essential to repel the Japanese colonisers from Indonesia. Hardo is unmistakably based on Arjuna since, like Hardo, Arjuna is of noble birth, expelled from his kingdom by the Kurawa, and returns disguised as a commoner. On the other hand, Karmin is based on Karna, Arjuna’s brother and arch-rival, who sides with the opposing forces. Unlike the epic, however, Hardo and Karmin reconcile. Perburuan thus provides an alternative ending which aims at an appeal for unification among Indonesians in the face of colonial power. The novel is accordingly labelled a nationalistic novel; in the Penguin edition’s “note to the reader,” the translator states that, “[t]hough The Fugitive’s structure follows the general outline of the traditional Javanese shadow-puppet play, it is nonetheless a novel of contemporary and nationalistic spirit.”17 Another novel that appropriates the story of Arjuna and Karna’s rivalry but provides an alternative ending is Burung-Burung Manyar. Mangunwijaya revealed that he wrote the novel “partly out of annoyance at the unhealthy falsification and mythologising of historical events.”18 Structured like a Bildungsroman, the novel spans from the late colonial period to the oil crisis in Indonesia in the mid-1970s. The main protagonist, Teto, and his childhood friend, Atik, enjoy a privileged childhood under Dutch occupation. During the War of Independence, pro-Dutch Teto joins the Royal Netherlands East Indies Army (KNIL), whereas pro-revolution Atik works for the Indonesian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which puts them at polar opposites of the political spectrum. After the Dutch leave Indonesia, Teto departs the country to study at Harvard University, and later returns as an expert working for a multinational oil company in the New Order’s Indonesia, while Atik marries a civil servant called Jono Katamsi. Teto claims to be “multinational” because of his Western education and job at an international oil trading company in Jakarta.19 He initially behaves condescendingly toward his poor countrymen but eventually realises that he can enjoy a good life only thanks to his aristocratic background, whereas the rest of the nation cannot, making the country a “nation of coolies” through no fault of their own.20 The term was first coined by Soekarno, who, in one of his rare television interviews, criticised the imperialists for making Indonesia “a nation of coolies and a coolie among nations.”21 After his epiphany, Teto leaves the oil company that has impoverished Indonesia through shady governmental dealings and embarks on an uphill battle to bust corruption. He receives help from Atik’s husband, Jono, who considers him a brother and risks his job to unmask the corrupt dealings. As emphasised in the novel, Teto’s dilemma in choosing sides is similar to those of Karna, who is faced with the choice of defending either the Pandawa or Kurawa.22 Meanwhile, Jono represents Arjuna, as is hinted at by the character’s naming: Arjuna in the Javanese version is often referred to as Janoko, which sounds similar to “Jono K(atamsi).” Instead of killing each other, however, they unite to help wong cilik (the “little people”). Teto and Jono are likened to male weaverbirds, the novel’s titular bird, which always tries to rebuild its

54  Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism nest, for they too continue trying to rebuild their nation.23 Despite this nationalistic spirit, the author does not promote narrow nationalism.24 Instead, Mangunwijaya promoted rooted cosmopolitanism, on which he based his appeal for national unity, since he believed that “our nationalism was constituted in the principles of faith in God and of humanitarianism; in other words, it had universal dimensions.”25 Although it provides a bird’s eye view of Indonesia’s history from the 1930s to the 1980s, Burung-Burung Manyar skips the transitional period of 1965– 66, as the protagonist, Teto, is outside the country during these years, suggesting that the author opted not to comment on Indonesia’s anti-leftist purge in this wayang novel (which he did with his last novel, Durga Umayi). Written a decade after Burung-Burung Manyar and spanning from the 1930s to the time it was being written, Durga Umayi also provides a bird’s eye view of Indonesia’s history in the twentieth century, and again portrays a multinational protagonist who must choose between personal gain and defending wong cilik. The novel’s title refers to a wayang story about a beautiful goddess, Uma, who is fated to become Durga, a destroyer, with both personae represented by the patriotically named protagonist, Iin Sulinda Pertiwi Nusamusbida. Iin is present in each different phase of Indonesia’s modern history: born into a priyayi (gentry) family in the late colonial period, she becomes a member of Lekra and Gerwani under Soekarno’s government as well as a successful entrepreneur under the New Order regime. While being active in Lekra, Iin thinks that social realism is “easy to understand and what is needed by the poor.”26 Only through her romantic relationship with a Balinese painter, Rohadi, does she learn that artists who believe in l’art pour l’art might also care about the suffering of others. Although Rohadi demands artistic freedom, he refuses to sign the Cultural Manifesto, thinking it to be too political as well.27 Suggesting the black and white thinking of that period, his neutrality earns him harsh criticism from his more political contemporaries, who argue that everyone “should take sides, whether Lekra or the humanists, and not only watching from the side-lines.”28 When the tables are turned, Rohadi is incarcerated because of his relationship with Iin, who happens to be in Beijing to buy weapons for the Fifth Force. Amidst the political tumult, Iin frequently changes her appearance and nationality. Becoming a high-class prostitute, she obtains money to establish herself as a rich capitalist in the New Order’s Indonesia, but she must eventually make a difficult decision: either continue the project of “Disneyland Indonesia” that will deprive her fellow countrymen of their home or be outlawed for being a member of the PKI’s onderbouw organisations. It is implied that Iin eventually chooses the latter. Her return to the right path is hinted by the reappearance of the “Microphone of Pegangsaan Timur 56” that Soekarno famously used to proclaim Indonesia’s Independence. The famous microphone serves as a leitmotif in the novel: it always appears magically in front of Iin whenever her nationalistic spirit is at its purest, and it disappears when she is being active in the left-leaning organisations and as

Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism  55 a rich capitalist under the New Order regime. Iin starts as Umayi, transforms into Durga during both Soekarno’s and Soeharto’s governments, and finally returns to being Umayi. The back-and-forth transformation from Umayi to Durga suggests that there is a good and bad side to everything. For example, the PKI initially wants to fight for wong cilik, but the party eventually becomes a potential destroyer, as is shown by Iin’s mission to arm 15 million peasants and workers that join the Fifth Force. The social realism that Lekra endorses can also be adapted for nation-building, but it eventually becomes too much influenced by the Eastern bloc, not oriented to Indonesia, and too aggressively implemented.29 In a similar vein, the capitalism that is championed by the Western bloc has a good side, one that allows a resourceful individual like Iin to go all the way to the top in a single lifetime. However, it also has a bad side when it spirals out of control, as is the case in the New Order’s Indonesia, where the rich and powerful exploit wong cilik. The novel’s critical attitude toward the ideological tensions at the peak of the Cold War is visible through the flippant explanation of Iin’s profession as high-class prostitute, described as “perhaps the expression of universal humanism or social realism embraced by the New Era before the incident at the Crocodile’s Pit.”30 Unlike many literary texts that simply vilify communists in stark, absolutist terms, Durga Umayi belongs among the very few that portray them as people who want to do good at the start.31 Instead of left-wing or right-wing politics, Durga Umayi encourages readers to revert to a nationalism that is not yet sullied by ideological struggles. As the author revealed, his novels “share but one protagonist, namely the Indonesian nation.”32 In the years nearing the end of and after Soeharto’s reign, these three nationalistic wayang novels received high publicity abroad: Perburuan was republished in English in 1990 and 1992, Burung-Burung Manyar in 1991, and Durga Umayi in 2004. These wayang novels are often read as a reminder of the New Order regime’s brutality – Pramoedya, the author of Perburuan, was incarcerated without trial, whereas Burung-Burung Manyar and Durga Umayi depict the regime as violators of human rights – which usually guarantees a good reception in the West.33 In more recent wayang novels, criticism of the regime is to be systematically found hand-in-hand with disapprovals of the Left, and they again had a good reception at home and abroad. Wayang Novels and Criticism of the Left Except for Burung-Burung Manyar and Durga Umayi, wayang novels that have been published after 1965 no longer promote nationalism, but they have one clear similarity with Mangunwijaya’s novels: they criticise the New Order regime and the Left. This section discusses a selection of prominent wayang novels that address the anti-leftist purge: they are Umar Kayam’s Para Priyayi (Javanese Gentry, 1992), Laksmi Pamuntjak’s Amba (2012), and Leila Chudori’s Pulang (Home, 2012).

56  Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism Umar Kayam appropriates the wayang story “Sumantri Ngenger” from the Ramayana in Para Priyayi, a novel that spans from the late colonial to the New Order period. In this wayang story, Sumantri looks for a powerful ruler to serve, and his choice falls to King Arjunasasrabahu of Maespati. His first task is to move the garden of Sriwedari to Maespati, for which he enlists the help of his ugly but powerful brother, Sukrasana, but becomes embarrassed when the latter wants to stay on. While trying to scare his brother away, Sumantri accidentally kills him. Despite this incident, Sumantri rises to become a patih (prime minister), thus fulfilling his ambition to move up to the caste of ksatria (knight). This story is appropriated to describe the upward mobility of a Javanese family in Para Priyayi. Headed by Sastrodarsono, the family rises from the peasantry to the gentry. The lakon “Sumantri Ngenger” is played at his wedding as a gift from Ndoro Seten, an elder priyayi who has taken Sastrodarsono under his wings. Referring to the wayang story, Ndoro Seten gives him the advice to devote himself to the country and its ruler.34 In Javanese, ngenger indeed means to follow another, and Sastrodarsono carries it out religiously, so that by the second generation, the family enjoys a respectable position in society. Sastrodarsono’s grandson, Harimurti or Hari, is however involved with the PKI. As a child, Hari enjoys playing with kampong children after school.35 His closeness to the poor makes him despise his own family members when he grows up, shown for instance when he criticises his uncle, Noegroho, for hosting a lavish party.36 The criticism against the uncle is directed at Soekarno’s Guided Democracy as well, implying that it is infested with corruption, as Noegroho’s salary alone is certainly not enough to afford such a lifestyle if not supplemented with money obtained by abusing his position as a government official. Noegroho’s corrupt mentality helps him adapt to the political turmoil in 1965–66, and he eventually holds an official position under the New Order regime as well. At the end of the day, it is Noegroho, again using his position, who bails Hari out from prison and gives him the fatherly advice to stay away from the Left and its bad influence, and to re-learn the Pancasila instead.37 Hari’s perception of art reflects Lekra’s, as shown in his statement that “[w]hat we understood until now as simply ‘the arts’, have been devices serving the interests of a feudal and then a bourgeois class.”38 He accordingly surrounds himself with leftists and develops a romantic relationship with a member of Lekra, Retno Dumillah, who is better known under her nom de plume of Gadis Pari. Coming from a poor priyayi family, Gadis sees her family as part of “a downtrodden class” and blames her misfortune on feudalism.39 However, she too spends money recklessly when she has it, insisting, “What’s wrong if the people’s artists have an occasional binge?”40, thus suggesting hypocrisy. As she is more radical than Hari, she does not appreciate a different point of view in terms of art, clear through her Schadenfreude when Soekarno bans the Cultural Manifesto.41 When the tables are turned, both Hari and Gadis are imprisoned. Hari, who already questions left-wing politics, realises that he is in the wrong for believing in the Left. As he says: “I lost my bet in the

Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism  57 matter of belief. Even before that choice of belief had taken root firmly and convincingly, I had been dragged into a rebellion.”42 Gadis, on the other hand, still creates trouble in prison by airing her leftist views.43 Whereas Hari can be bailed out and placed under house arrest, Gadis dies in prison. Other leftists that are killed off in the novel are Martokebo, who is involved in the Communist Uprising of 1948, and Sunaryo, a staunch member of Lekra. It is implied that they get their just desserts, since their ideology is said to have caused thousands of deaths and is linked to monstrous leaders, as stated by the novel’s most honourable character, Lantip, who has risen from poverty through diligence rather than left-wing politics: I [Lantip] couldn’t bring myself to believe in a system that could give rise to a potentate like Stalin. As I couldn’t believe in systems that introduced a Hitler or Mussolini. And of course, equally, an Amangkurat in the old days, a butcher of the santri. Such systems always contain the seeds of later ruthlessness that claims countless helpless victims.44 Many characters in Para Priyayi are a rewrite of those in the author’s short stories. Hari is similar not only to Tono in “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut” but also to the eponymous heroine in “Bawuk”: if Bawuk enjoys playing with the servants after school, Hari plays with kampong children, and they are both eventually led astray by their partner who happens to be a staunch leftist. Gadis resembles Samsu in “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut,” who robs artists of their cultural freedom and still spreads leftist views even in prison. Noegroho is like Soewandi in “Kimono Biru Buat Istri”: he joins the army during the War of Independence, adapts well under different governments, and becomes a corrupt official, but he is still commendable for fighting the Left. As usual, Kayam kills off his characters who are real leftists, criticises Soekarno’s Guided Democracy, and distances himself from Soeharto’s New Order regime. Reflecting the advice of Ndoro Seten (the priyayi from the colonial period who instructs Sastrodarsono to devote himself to king and country), most of the priyayi in the novel devote themselves to their ruler – whether that ruler be colonial, Soekarno’s, or Soeharto’s government – so that they can lead a respectable life, but they do not care much about humanity. The priyayi’s mentality is likened to that of Sumantri, who is often associated with being an opportunist.45 It is also likened to Karna’s, since Kayam interprets Karna’s loyalty to the Kurawa differently: instead of out of honour, Karna is depicted in the novel as an opportunist who opts to side with the Kurawa because “dues must be given to those from whom one receives rank and livelihood.”46 This negative interpretation of Karna also serves the function of discrediting the image of Soekarno, who in his heyday associated himself with Karna. Kayam’s criticism thus goes both ways: against the Left and the destroyer of the Left in Indonesia, but his criticism of the Left is not often discussed. On the contrary, his criticism of the New Order regime is constantly analysed and praised in academia.47

58  Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism A year after the publication of Para Priyayi, Pipit Rochijat’s Baratayuda di Negeri Antah Berantah (Bharata Yuddha in the Fairyland, 1993) was published in Indonesia. The Germany-based writer is virtually unknown in the country; his only literary work was published by a small publisher and has since been out of print, but it reflects the direction of serious post-1965 Indonesian literature – it criticises both the PKI and the New Order regime while appropriating wayang imagery – and has received broad academic attention. Rochijat himself is openly against both the PKI and the New Order regime. He emphasised his anti-leftist sentiments, using wayang imagery, in an interview in 1994: [I]t was clear that the Communists were the Kurawa, and we non-­ Communists were the Pandawa. They told me, and I was still a kid, that the behavior of the Kurawa was exactly like that of the Communists: they grabbed things, they were coarse, they didn’t know the rules, etc. (demonstrations, demands, uproar, boycotts, etc.).48 At the same time, Rochijat is also against the New Order regime. He was shortly imprisoned for being a member of PNI, Soekarno’s political party, after the change of government.49 While studying in Germany, his passport was revoked after he openly criticised Soeharto’s regime in 1986, making him a political exile.50 His short story collection, about how a group of demons tortures another group of demons, depicts his antipathy toward both the PKI and the destroyer of the PKI. In “Seri Kurawa Protes,” the Kurawa, representing the PKI, reside in hell after their defeat in 1965. The gods, representing the regime’s henchmen, regularly send new batches of corpses, suggestive of the mass killings of 1965–66. The gods brutally torture the demons, reflecting the ill treatment of the tapol (political prisoners), with the torture said to be “not only crossing the border of humanity, but even the border itself has been knocked down.”51 Nevertheless, the Kurawa, rotten to the core, remain cocky despite the torture.52 Eventually, their souls escape and enter the bodies of Javanese wong cilik, who often chant the Javanese motto of “eating or not, the most important thing is to be together,”53 hinting that the return of communism is an ever-present threat that usually finds its way back through the poor and uneducated who do not work enough to rise from poverty. These anti-leftist sentiments are however not discussed, with academic discussions of the collection focusing on the criticism of the New Order regime.54 Two decades later, the criticism of the PKI in wayang novels is still present, though subtler than in its predecessors. In 2012, two novels that address the anti-leftist purge, Laksmi Pamuntjak’s Amba and Leila Chudori’s Pulang, were published two months apart and received a great deal of publicity.55 In Amba, the appropriation of wayang stories mainly concerns the names of the characters. Amba, in the Mahabharata, is a princess who is betrothed to King Salwa, but she is kidnapped by Bisma (“Bhisma” in the Indian spelling) to be

Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism  59 wed to his half-brother. She successfully pleads her case to return to Salwa, but the latter rejects her, and Bisma, bound by a vow of chastity, cannot marry her either. Consumed by her grudge, Amba reincarnates into Srikandi, who helps Arjuna kill Bisma on the battlefield. The eponymous heroine of the novel, who leaves her village to study English literature at the prestigious university of Gadjah Mada in Jogjakarta, is also romantically involved with men called Salwa and Bhisma. After rejecting Salwa, she has a passionate love affair with Bhisma, a European-educated physician. Bhisma is later arrested for his tenuous connection with the PKI, while Amba, pregnant with his child, marries a visiting German-American scholar. Forty years later, she tries to discover Bhisma’s fate, only to find out that he has died on Buru Island, at the prison camp for leftist dissidents. As usual, the persecuted protagonist is not actually a leftist. Although Bhisma reads writings by leftist thinkers, he also reads those of Voltaire, a forerunner of liberal pluralism. Many of his friends are left-leaning artists, but he does not embrace Lekra’s motto of “Art for People’s Sake,” as shown in his own poems, which contain “a dark, doubting lyricism that bore no mission, no message to better the world, poems that did not serve the revolution.”56 Another telling hint that Bhisma does not support left-wing politics is his waning admiration toward Soekarno. It is said that “Bhisma’s hero worship has started to dim in 1957, after Soekarno proclaimed the concept of Guided Democracy.”57 Instead of a leftist, Bhisma is a humanist who “wanted to heal, not only individuals but also all of fucking humanity.”58 His concerns for humanity are shown when he “[l]earned not to read humankind by racial characteristics,”59 “had given up that other world to be of service here [in Kediri],”60 which is likened to a “hell-hole.”61 Bhisma’s humanitarianism, however, becomes his undoing, as he treats his patients indiscriminately – an act symbolised by his colour blindness, which makes him “[unable to] tell if the berets worn by the soldiers who come to the hospital are red or green.”62 Unfortunately for him, people who see undesired ideologies as grey are persecuted by the New Order regime. As Amba sums up, “[t]he reason the world is so fraught with violence is because Black and White are cast as enemies, as absolutes: Us & Them.”63 Amba has the same worldview as Bhisma, partly because she has been raised by a father who disapproves of Soekarno’s politics. When Soekarno forms the four-legged cabinet in 1957, giving seats to four political parties including the PKI, Amba’s father explains its flaw to his children in simple terms, likening the cabinet to a dining table; but, as he says, “the table never seemed big enough for those four suckling sons… Most certainly not with that kind of mother: too various, too sprawling, too soft and porous in her constitution.”64 Growing up, Amba reads many books, including those written by leftist thinkers, but she does not embrace their ideology. Her early admiration of the Left is depicted as resulting from the naivety of an impressionable 18-year-old girl; for instance, when “[s]he heard the name Che Guevara spoken, followed by a quote, something about oppression and justice, Amba couldn’t help it but

60  Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism there she was, relentlessly impressed,”65 though it is implied that she does not fully understand what it is about. As Amba matures, she becomes increasingly less impressed with the Left. Her views on the arts represent those of the universal humanists who accuse Lekra of using literature to spread proletarian universalism, for instance when she complains that “[n]owadays Indonesian poets are so predictable. Their lines sound like slogans. Most are about the struggle: Workers of the world unite! … a poem can’t be made to say things alien to it… It can’t be a tool.”66 Amba also paints an unfavourable view of the Land Reform regulation in 1960, equating it to a land-grab.67 She particularly regrets “[Soekarno’s] increasingly hostile stance toward the West,”68 as well as his support for the PKI. Amba’s view reflects the view of the opponent of Lekra, as clearly shown in the following passage: President Soekarno’s affections for the Communist Party had become more blatant. Like a consummate adulterer getting too old for the game and deciding to go out-and-out in public with his not-so-secret girlfriend. As a result, scholarship programs like the Ford Foundation were under threat. They were no longer able to send the best PhD students from universities like hers, Gadjah Mada, to study in the US. Soekarno’s growing ambivalence toward the West was unmistakable. He was too in thrall to Maoist ideas and the fervor of his new ideological bedfellows to see that things were spiralling out of control.69 Amba finds Soekarno’s left-leaning politics disadvantageous for their country, as “[t]he US withdrawing its assistance from Indonesia. The Information Service libraries and the Peace Corps finding the raids and harassment so untenable that they packed up and left the country.”70 Aside from criticisms of the Left voiced by Amba and Bhisma, leftists are often portrayed as being unfair in the novel, for example when they treat people from a bourgeois background with prejudice.71 Alongside the love story between the characters named after the two originally opposing wayang figures from the Mahabharata, the novel constantly implies that the Old Order government – beside the obviously corrupt New Order regime – did not do Indonesians any favours with its flawed left-wing politics. Leila Chudori’s Pulang also incorporates wayang stories and depicts cosmopolitan characters that fall victim to the anti-leftist purge. At the same time, the novel expresses disapproval of the Left. The most highlighted wayang story in the novel is Ekalaya’s, which represents the main protagonist’s love of his motherland despite his being expelled from his own country. Ekalaya in wayang is a talented archer who is rejected by Durna, a teacher whom he still venerates. For him, Ekalaya is willing to sacrifice everything, even his career as an archer. The novel’s protagonist, Dimas, is also treated badly by his country, but he still carries a lifelong attachment to it. In the novel, he and his three friends – Nugroho, Risjaf, and Tjai – are stranded abroad avoiding persecution

Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism  61 in Indonesia, since they are accused of being communists. They eventually settle and open a successful Indonesian restaurant in Paris. Even there, Dimas’s daughter, Lintang, suffers discrimination within the Indonesian community for being associated with an alleged communist. As a student, Lintang goes to Indonesia to make a documentary, and while there meets the children of her father’s friends. The youngsters are caught up in the riots of 1998, which mark the end of the New Order regime. The novel closes with their elation, as Soeharto finally steps down as president. Pulang was translated into English by John McGlynn from the Lontar Foundation, and the English translation, Home, was published by Deep Vellum Publishing, whose mission is to publish “under-represented, marginalized, and vital literary voices.”72 The unheard marginal voice seems to come from the Left, with Pamela Allen’s review of the novel, for instance, being accordingly titled “Voices from the Unheard.”73 On closer inspection, however, Pulang actually speaks only for individuals who are wrongly accused of being members of the PKI, such as Dimas and his three friends, and their unknowing family members. Nugroho’s cardinal sin is his closeness to Hananto, a staunch leftist; Risjaf is more often depicted as a forlorn lover than anything else; and Tjai is even said to be “not in the least political.”74 The quartet is described as “[p]awns on the chess board or, to say it differently, fans on the edge of the playing field who didn’t quite know the rules of the game that was being played.”75 Dimas indeed reads books written by the leftist intelligentsia, given to him by his mentor Hananto, but he does not embrace their ideology. He does not believe in Lekra’s motto of “Art for People’s Sake” either, and criticises Gorky’s novel representing this motto, complaining that “if the only thing a writer is concerned with is social issues, then he had better not write novels or poetry; he’d best stick to writing speeches or propaganda essays instead.”76 Furthermore, he favours universal humanism over proletarian universalism, stating that people are supposed to “defend all of humanity, not just proletariat.”77 Dimas himself realises that he is “a free cell [who] reside[s] in a kind of Swiss neutral zone.”78 Although close with Hananto, a staunch supporter of the PKI (and an unfaithful womaniser), he keeps himself apart from the latter’s political activities, which he deems subversive at times, implying that the PKI is warmongering and poses a danger to Indonesia.79 His impartiality is confirmed by Hananto’s criticism of him for not entering any political party.80 Dimas’s neutrality even evolves into disillusionment toward the Left after his exasperating sojourn to China during the Cultural Revolution, again showing the flaws of communism as an ideology. Yet, Dimas is exiled for being too close to the Left, since, as he realises later (echoing Amba’s realisation in Pamuntjak’s novel), “[t]here was no grey: you were black or white, either with ‘us’, or ‘them’.”81 Speaking on behalf of “innocent victims” of the anti-leftist purge, upright characters in the novel complain that “[i]n Indonesia anyone thought to be a member of the Communist Party, or a member of the family of a communist, had been hunted down, jailed, or made disappear, just like

62  Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism that,”82 and that “[t]he families of political prisoners, the ones who didn’t know anything or weren’t involved… had to suffer for years afterwards, even up to this day.”83 On the other hand, no complaint is made against the execution of Hananto, a real leftist. Meanwhile, the “Clean Environment” policy is said to be “the most discriminative regulation on earth,”84 but the “Clean Self” policy is neither discussed nor questioned. Pulang also portrays Western Europe positively but is critical of the “Third World,” with the novel claiming that “[m]any countries in Latin America, Africa, and Asia were led by corrupt authoritarian leader.”85 Indonesia under the New Order regime is depicted as one of these and likened to dictatorial regimes in Latin America, with Dimas’s French wife questioning “which regime was more frightening: Indonesia, with its civilian-dressed dictator, or Latin America, with its generals,”86 and then commenting that “[m]aybe the overtly civilian style of government in Indonesia wasn’t the same as the one adopted by military leaders in Latin American countries, but the Smiling General [Soeharto] continued to maintain a firm grip on his throne.”87 Many examples are given to paint the many corruptions under the regime: for instance, “[m]alls and toll roads are owned by the children of the President,”88 and “President Soeharto installed his daughter as the Ministry of Social Affairs and packed the cabinet with his cronies.”89 This corruption-prone mentality is shown to be rampant among many Indonesians as well. Dimas’s wife and daughter observe that many young Indonesians in Paris drive sports cars “to show off the fruits of their father’s corruption,”90 that “a tiny percentage of people, at the very top of the population pyramid, were able to shop for Louis Vuitton purses and shoes in Paris,”91 and that “[i]n almost every stores – Dior, Lacroix, Céline, and others – [there were] groups of Indonesian women dressed in expensive clothing.”92 The consumerist frenzy that grips many Indonesians is shown repeatedly in the novel, but a few characters who are well-read in Western literature serve as an exception. For instance, when Lintang’s cousin courts a superficial girl from an elite family, his more open-minded sister (Lintang’s ally and a student of English literature) mocks her, saying, “So you visited London, Amsterdam, Berlin, Bonn, Paris, Milan, and Brussels, and all you did was shop?”93 The novel concludes that “what’s wrong with the country [is] corruption, collusion, and nepotism.”94 On the other hand, the West is depicted as enlightened: French-educated Lintang is more critical than many Indonesian girls her age; one of the novel’s humanitarian characters, Alam, comments that “[Western] historians are able to be fairly independent-minded; any overt distortions of historical facts would cause outrage in the academic quarter”95; Lintang’s mother also mentions that in France “the police do their jobs.”96 In other words, not only Pulang is critical of the Left, but it also consistently portrays the France belonging to the Western bloc of the Cold War divide in a contrastingly positive light. Amba and Pulang, published only two months apart in 2012 and catapulted to international fame at the 2015 Frankfurt Book Fair, have a striking

Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism  63 resemblance: both mentioning the “us vs them” mentality that was encouraged under the New Order regime. The only difference is that Amba is a more poetic reading with gentler criticism of the Left, whereas Pulang resembles a fast-paced thriller and is straightforward with its criticism. As a serious work of literature, Amba has been praised by prominent scholars, such as Ariel Heryanto, Goenawan Mohamad, Bambang Soegiharto, and Pamela Allen.97 Mohamad particularly praises Amba, together with Pulang, for the novels’ mentions of the anti-leftist purge: “The novel Amba,” he claims, “portrays people who have been removed from the records of 1965, as does the novel Pulang.”98 With regard to the victims of the anti-leftist purge, this statement is half correct, since the execution of a real leftist is not questioned. The novels drop hints that the main protagonists, whose persecution is shown to be underserved, are cosmopolitans; their view represents that of the supporters of universal humanism in the 1960s, and they disapprove of Lekra’s motto of “Art for People’s Sake” as well as the Left in general. The novels’ criticism of the Left is omnipresent, but is not discussed within academia, which often focuses on discussing its criticism of the New Order regime’s corruption and “Clean Environment” policy.99 Conclusion Wayang novels have been well received and mainly read as critiques of the New Order regime, with academic discussions generally concluding that these texts appropriate wayang stories to challenge the regime’s authority. In these novels, the victims of the anti-leftist purge are cosmopolitan-minded individuals caught up with the PKI or its affiliates, like Rohadi in Durga Umayi, Harimurti in Para Priyayi, Bhisma in Amba, and Dimas in Pulang. Prominent wayang novels also couple the criticism of the regime with that of the Left, but the criticism of the latter, although obvious in some (such as in Para Priyayi and Baratayuda di Negeri Antah Berantah), is barely discussed. While earlier wayang novels use wayang imagery to promote national unity, later works convey the idea that left-wing politics is not suitable for Indonesia, suggesting that the anti-leftist sentiments are still prevalent in the country. Notes 1 “[E]very wayang performance provided dhalang with the opportunity to criticize the colonial government.” Laurie Sears, Shadows of Empire: Colonial Discourse and Javanese Tales (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 1996), 136. 2 “Weddings, births, circumcisions, vows, and the commemorations of deaths are all suitable occasions for [wayang] performances.” Laurie Sears, Shadows of Empire, 4–5. 3 Clifford Geertz, who in the 1950s researched Javanese society in Modjokuto (Pare) in East Java, observes that “almost entirely, the stories (lakons) dramatized in the wajangs are from the Mahabharata. Ramayana stories – often referred to contemptuously as “monkey stories” because of the prominence in them of the

64  Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism half-monkey hero Anoman and other similar figures – are not liked in Modjokuto.” Clifford Geertz, Religion of Java (Chicago and London: Chicago UP, 1960), 264; “Plays based on episodes of the Mahabharata or revolving around particular heroes of this epic are by far the most numerous and popular among all the varieties of shadow plays.” Claire Holt, Art in Indonesia: Continuities and Change (New York: Cornell University Press, 1967), 124. 4 “The Indonesian Communist Party also utilized the most popular hero of the Mahabharata, Ardjuna, endowing his all-conquering magic weapon, the arrow Pasopati, with the hammer and sickle insignia.” Claire Holt, Art in Indonesia, 125n; “Sudisman, one of the five members of the P.K.I. central committee, consciously identified these latter leaders with the Pandawas in his speech in his own defence before the Special Military Tribunal as late as July 1967.” Gertrudes Resink, “From the Old Mahabharata- to the New Ramayana-Order.” Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 131, no. 2/3 (1975): 216. 5 “In the period immediately after his presidency, Soekarno was frequently portrayed as a Korawa, but one who had positive qualities [i.e., Karna].” Helen Pausacker, “Presidents as Punakawan.” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 35, no. 2 (2004): 217. 6 For an example of how the Javanese reveres Karna, see Benedict Anderson, Mythology and Tolerance of the Javanese (New York: Cornell University Press, 1965), 15–17. 7 Gertrudes Resink, “From the Old Mahabharata,” 226. 8 The association to Semar is used “to emphasise that [Soeharto] originated from humble origins and was one with the people.” Helen Pausacker, “Presidents as Punakawan,” 233. 9 “The wayang is not moralistic, which means that the problems are not presented in a simple manner, in black and white, divided into what is good and what is bad.” Magnis Suseno, “The People and the Wayang,” trans. Verena Meyer, International Journal of Dharma Studies 4, no. 11 (October 2016): 6. 10 This chapter does not include rewrites of wayang stories in the epic’s original setting, such as the retelling of Abimanyu’s death in Danarto’s “Nostalgia” (1975), Bhisma’s and Parikesit’s death in Goenawan Mohamad’s “Bhisma” (1987) and “Parikesit” (1992), respectively, and Bakdi Soemanto’s “Karna” and “Gatotkaca” (2002). 11 A decade into the New Order regime, Gertrude Resink suggested that there was a shift in popularity from the Mahabharata to the Ramayana, since the prior reflects narrow nationalism and pessimism, while the latter reflects openness and optimism. “The Ramayana,” Resink claimed, “is clearly extroverted on the points of international and national diffusion, optimism, orientation via the sea and air towards the worlds of overseas countries and foreign peoples… The Mahabharata with its Javanese and Balinese patriotism, if not parochialism or regionalism, its pessimism, its inward directed interest, its traditional black-and-white psychology, and its less secular and sometimes even mystical character creates an introverted impression …” Gertrudes Resink, “From the Old Mahabharata,” 233–234. While it is true that the Ramayana became more popular in the New Order period, it was more likely because the Ramayana was regularly performed under Soeharto’s regime, which endorsed non-political artistic expression. Sendratari Ramayana (The Ramayana Ballet), for example, has been performed spectacularly year-round in prominent places, such as in Purawisata, Jogjakarta, since 1976, and Ardha Candra Taman Budaya, Bali, since 1979. 12 “Together, Arief Budiman and I come forward as the opponents of universalism, and we specifically approach a contextual understanding” [“Arief Budiman dan saya sama-sama tampil sebagai penentang paham universal, dan secara khusus mendekati pemahaman kontekstual”]. Ariel Heryanto, “Pengantar Singkat,” in Ariel Heryanto (ed.), Perdebatan Sastra Kontekstual (Jakarta: Rajawali, 1985), 37–38.

Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism  65 13 “I like literary works that talk about social justice… But I do not deny the authenticity of other kinds of literature that talk about other things, as long as a part of the public enjoys them. They have to be assessed based on their own context” [“Saya senang kepada karya sastra yang berbicara tentang keadilan sosial… Tapi, saya tidak menyangkal keabsahan adanya sastra jenis lain yang berbicara tentang hal lain, selama ada public yang menikmatinya. Mereka harus dinilai dalam konteksnya masing-masing].” Arief Budiman, “Sastra Kontekstual – Sebuah Penjelasan,” in Ariel Heryanto, Perdebatan Sastra Kontekstual, 321–322. 14 “A compelling love story, elegantly and passionately told by one of the sharpest minds of her generation, set in a history held as most taboo in [Indonesia].” [“Sebuah kisah cinta memukau yang dituturkan secara anggun dan penuh gairah oleh salah seorang penulis paling cerdas dari generasinya, berlatar sejarah yang paling ditabukan di tanah airnya sendiri”]. Ariel Heryanto, “Endorsement,” in Laksmi Pamuntjak (ed.), Amba: Sebuah Novel (Jakarta: Gramedia, 2013), iv. 15 It is common that left-wing politics went hand-in-hand with the decolonisation process in Southeast Asia; as scholars focusing on the Cold War in Asia observe, “the original wave of communism merged with local left politics and transformed into various postcolonial struggles.” Yu Chieh Li and Midori Yamamura, “Introduction,” in Yu Chieh Li and Midori Yamamura (eds.), Visual Representations of the Cold War and Postcolonial Struggles: Art in East and Southeast Asia (Oxford and New York: Routledge, 2021), 1. 16 Pramoedya, The Fugitive, trans. Wilhelm Samuels (London: Penguin, 1992), 171. 17 Wilhelm Samuels, “Translator’s Note,” in Pramoedya, The Fugitive, 8. 18 “Sebagian itu terdorong juga oleh kejengkelan saya mengenai pemalsuan-­ pemalsuan dan pemitosan peristiwa-peristiwa sejarah yang tidak sehat.” Mangunwijaya, “Pengakuan Seorang Amatir [Confession of an Amateur],” in Pamusuk Eneste (ed.), Mengapa dan Bagaimana Saya Mengarang [Why and How I Write] (Jakarta: Gunung Agung, 1986), 109–110. 19 “‘I’m a multinational!’” The ambassador’s guest [Teto] smiled. “After all, I work for an international trading company.’” Mangunwijaya, The Weaverbirds, trans. John McGlynn (Jakarta: The Lontar Foundation, 1991), 204. 20 “I felt that this was indeed a nation of coolies and chambermaids. And you’re the biggest coolie of all, I suddenly told myself. And it was true. My attitudes were, in fact, the ultimate expression of the coolie mentality of my race.” Ibid., 223. 21 “And I personally – God Willing – I shall keep on fighting emperors, because we have had experience with three-hundred-and-fifty years on what it means to be colonised, what it means to be a colony, to be a nation of coolies and a coolie among nations … But there are other forces in the world which are also fighting that imperialism: the New Emerging Forces.” Indonesia: President Sukarno Talks about Colonialism and Imperialism (British Pathé, 1965), 0:01:01. 22 “My father used to compare you to Karna. In the great war between the Pandawas and the Kurawas, even though Karna shared the same mother as the Pandawas, because of loyalty to the family that raised him, Karna fought on the Kurawa side. And he was a great warrior.” Mangunwijaya, The Weaverbirds, 272. 23 “I never knew that male weaverbirds destroy their own nests if the females consider them imperfect … Suddenly I had an inspiration that this is the essence of the story needed by my novel” [“Saya belum pernah tahu bahwa manyar-manyar jantan menghancurkan sendiri bangunan sarang buatannya apabila ditaksir kurang laku oleh si betina… Tiba-tiba ilham masuk dalam hati saya bahwa inilah pamor cerita yang persis dibutuhkan oleh novel saya”], Mangunwijaya, “Pengakuan Seorang Amatir,” 110. 24 Mangunwijaya once stated that people can “hate colonialism, but don’t hate the Dutch,” Mangunwijaya, Tumbal (Yogyakarta: Bentang, 1994), 312. He categorically criticised chauvinistic nationalism, deeming it to be shallow, as reflected in his

66  Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism misgivings about the motto “right or wrong, my country,” suggesting that a better motto would be “right or wrong is right or wrong.” Mangunwijaya, “Budaya yang Menculik Kita [Culture that Holds Us Hostage)” In Pasca-Indonesia, Pasca Einstein (Yogyakarta: Kanisius, 2020), 41. 25 Mangunwijaya, “Budaya yang Menculik Kita,” 41. 26 “[Realisme sosial] mudah bisa dipahami dan yang dibutuhkan oleh rakyat jembel.” Mangunwijaya, Durga Umayi (Jakarta: Grafiti, 1991), 107. 27 Rohadi refuses to sign the Cultural Manifesto with the following reason: “Not because he did not sympathise with this group, and not because he was afraid of being labelled a reactionary and Eurocentric, but simply because he did not have a calling to become a member of a party or to manifest.” “[B]ukan karena ia tidak bersimpati kepada kelompok ini, juga bukan karena takut dicap reaktioner dan kebarat-baratan, tetapi karena ia merasa tidak terpanggil untuk berpartai atau bermanifest.” Ibid., 116. 28 “Mas Rohadi terlalu individualis, semestinya harus memihak, atau Lekra atau humanis, dan jangan duduk sebagai penonton saja.” Ibid., 115. 29 “Unfortunately, their group was manipulated by a party whose allegiance lies with Peking, not with Sabang or Merauke, or Pameungpeuk or Gorontalo.” “[S] ayangnya ketika itu kelompok mereka diperalat oleh partai yang berkiblat ke Beijing. Bukan ke Sabang atau Merauke, atau Pameungpeuk atau Gorontalo].” Ibid., 79. 30 “Mungkin saja ekspresi humanism universal maupun realism sosialis yang dianut oleh zaman baru sebelum Peristiwa lubang Buaya” Ibid., 84. 31 Other novels that does the same are Eka Kurniawan’s Cantik itu Luka (Beauty is a Wound, 2002) and Lasmi (2009). See: Chapter 6. 32 “[Novel-novel itu] punya tokoh satu, yakni nasion Indonesia.” Mangunwijaya, Politik Hati Nurani (Jakarta: Grafiasri Mukti, 1997), 56. 33 A famous example is Ayu Utami’s Saman (1998), which was published shortly before the end of the New Order regime. The novel, representing liberal feminism and at the same time showing the brutalities under the New Order regime, was critically acclaimed abroad, receiving the Prince Claus Awards in 2000. Although it promotes national unity, Mangunwijaya’s novels are often read solely as a criticism of the regime. Burung-Burung Manyar has been praised for depicting Indonesia from the perspective of wong cilik. See: Ward Keeler, “‘Durga Umayi’ and the Postcolonialist Dilemma,” in Clearing a Space: Postcolonial Readings of Modern Indonesian Literature (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 349–370. In a similar vein, Durga Umayi has been praised for speaking for women (beside wong cilik), who were also marginalised. See: Ian Chalmers, Indonesia: An Introduction to Contemporary Traditions (Oxford University Press, 2006); Susan Blackburn, Women and the State in Modern Indonesia (Cambridge University Press, 2005); Michael Bodden, “Woman as Nation in Mangunwijaya’s Durga Umayi.” Indonesia 62 (October 1996): 53–82. 4 Umar Kayam, Javanese Gentry, trans. Vladislav Zhukov (Jakarta: The Lontar Foun3 dation, 2014), 38. 35 “[S]ince he went to the Mangkunegaran HIS Siswo, a school for the children of priyayi, his companions were of that social level. But at home, Hari mixed with the kampong children living behind [their] house.” Ibid., 165. 36 “This party of Pakdé’s? Where did the money come from? … Ah yes, from his modest salary, and I’m a turkey’s son.” Ibid., 208. 37 Noegroho concludes that Hari has been confused by the PKI, as “[t]hose commie dogmas do that to people … Now you stay here in this house and begin re-reading and studying the Pancasila.” Ibid., 233. 8 Ibid., 211. 3 9 Ibid., 223. 3 0 Ibid., 215. 4

Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism  67 41 “Yet, sometimes catching that bright bitterness in her eyes I [Hari] was a little troubled too. Could she really hate those opposition writers so much?” Ibid., 215. 42 “Saya telah keliru bertaruh dalam pilihan keyakinan. Bahkan sebelum sempat pilihan keyakinan itu berakar dengan mantap dan meyakinkan, saya sudah terseret dalam suatu Gerakan pemberontakan.” Umar Kayam, Para Priyayi (Jakarta: Pustaka Utama Grafiti, 1992), 288. Zhukov’s translation is slightly different from the original, which more strongly suggests Hari’s innocence, as someone simply getting carried away, hence this passage is translated directly from the original. 43 During visiting time, Gadis tells Hari that “[the interrogators] decided that I’m a Gerwani rabble-rouser … I argue with them, talk back, they say.” Ibid., 240. 44 Ibid., 237. 45 Another literary text that appropriates “Sumantri Ngenger” similarly is Seno Gumira Ajidarma’s “Segitiga Emas” (1991). In this short story, a dalang is hired to play “Babad Alas Wanamarta” for the inauguration of a superblock called “Segitiga Emas” (“Golden Triangle”), located in the most sought-after business area in Jakarta. The initially chosen lakon chronicles the struggles of the Pandawa, driven out of their own kingdom by the Kurawa, transforming a jungle into a new kingdom called Amarta. The greedy shareholders find the lakon suitable for the occasion, particularly for gaslighting wong cilik whose lands have been taken for the project, since “Babad Alas Wanamarta” conveys that glory comes through sacrifice, but the dalang performs “Sumantri Ngenger” instead. Like Para Priyayi, “Segitiga Emas” appropriates “Sumantri Ngenger” to criticise the corrupt mentality rampant under the New Order regime. 46 Umar Kayam, Javanese Gentry, 153. 47 For the analysis of Kayam’s resistance against the New Order regime, see: Darmanto Yatman, “Umar Kayam: Kuasa Budaya yang Fenomenal,” in Aprinus Salam (ed.), Umar Kayam Dan Jaring Semiotik (Yogyakarta: Pustaka Pelajar, 1998), 35–39; Ignas Kleden, “Novel Dan Cerpen-Cerpen Umar Kayam: Strategi Literer Menghadapi Perubahan Sosial,” in Umar Kayam Dan Jaring Semiotik, 93–106; Sapardi Djoko Damono, “Umar Kayam Sebagai Sampel Sistem Pengarang Indonesia,” in Umar Kayam Dan Jaring Semiotik, 234–247; Daniel Dhakidae, “Kekuasaan dan Perlawanan dalam Novel Para Priyayi: Tentang Para Priyayi,” Kompas, July 11, 1992, 3. For an academic article that unusually addresses Kayam’s critique of the Left, see Paulus Sarwoto, “Interrogating Indonesian New Order’s Narrative of Gestapu: The Leftist Nobles and the Indonesian Communist Party in Umar Kayam’s Stories.” Kritika Kultura 29 (2017): 101–125. 48 Laurie Sears, Shadows of Empire, 228. 49 For Rochijat’s biography, see Marshall Clark, “Pipit Rochijat’s Subversive Mythologies: The Suharto Era and Beyond.” Asian Folklore Studies 65 (2006): 21–44. 50 “I was invited to appear in a German talk show on TV, where they wanted to discuss the New Order in Indonesia. Two days before the recording at the studio, the Indonesian consul invited me for dinner and told me to ‘play nice’ on TV. I didn’t.” Pipit Rochijat, quoted in Katrin Figge, “Life, interrupted: Documents from Berlin,” The Jakarta Post, December 10, 2018. https://www.thejakartapost. com/life/2018/12/10/life-interrupted-documents-from-berlin.html 51 “[B]ukan saja di luar batas kemanusiaan, tapi malahan tembok pembatasnya pun sudah dibongkar.” Pipit Rochijat, Baratayuda di Negeri Antah Berantah (Jakarta: Humor, 1993), 62. 52 “Kok cuma sebegitu saja nyiksanya?” [Only that much torture?] and “Minta tambah dong siksaannya!” [I want some extra torture!] Ibid., 63. 53 “[M]akan enggak makan asal ngumpul.” Ibid., 67. 54 Marshall Clark argues that the criticism in Baratayuda di Negeri Antah Berantah is aimed at the New Order regime. As he sums up: “[b]y appropriating the very

68  Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism same symbols and language in which the New Order authoritarian regime had manipulated so effectively, Indonesian dissidents such as Pipit discovered the perfect symbolic weapon with which to radicalize their opposition.” Marshall Clark, “Subversive Mythologies,” 21. In a similar vein, Ariel Heryanto classifies Baratayuda di Negeri Antah Berantah as one of the “[m]any stories [that] can be written about convivial practices of misreading and surviving under authoritarian postcolonial regimes.” Ariel Heryanto, “Where Communism Never Dies,” 163. 55 Other novels (partially) set 1965 that were published in 2012 are Ratih Kumala’s Gadis Kretek, Ayu Utami’s Cerita Cinta Enrico (Enrico’s Love Story), and Gitanyali’s 65. All three novels were nominated in the 2012 Khatulistiwa Literary Awards, with Gadis Kretek winning the prize. Thus, for two years in a row the winners of the award were novels about 1965, as Pulang won the award in 2013. 6 Laksmi Pamuntjak, Question of Red (Seattle: Amazon Crossing, 2014), 33. 5 7 Ibid., 158. 5 8 Ibid., 304. 5 9 Ibid., 37. 5 0 Ibid., 117. 6 1 Ibid., 137. 6 2 Ibid., 166. 6 3 Ibid., 272. 6 4 Ibid., 69. 6 5 Ibid., 241. 6 6 Ibid., 259. 6 67 “The Farmers’ Front and Pemuda Rakyat had said, “Not so. The land is not yours. Get out.” Ibid., 101. 68 Ibid., 107, 158. 9 Ibid., 107. 6 0 Ibid. 7 71 Bhisma’s unfair treatment by the leftists is likened to that of Berthold Brecht, who came from a bourgeoise family. As Bhisma states: “Maybe it has something to do with the harsh way the Left often treated him, a harshness I supposed was classbased and which I can relate too. Like mine, Brecht’s family belonged to the bourgeoisie.” Ibid. 2 See: https://deepvellum.org/about/ 7 73 Pamela Allen, “Voices from the Unheard,” Inside Indonesia, January 4, 2014. https://www.insideindonesia.org/review-voices-from-the-unheard 4 Leila Chudori, Home, trans. John McGlynn. (Dallas: Deep Vellum Publishing, 7 2015), 100. 5 Ibid., 314. 7 6 Ibid., 25. 7 7 Ibid., 26. 7 78 Ibid., 26, 64. 79 When Hananto mentions his correspondence with a Chilean Marxist, Dimas remains silent, feeling “leery of knowing (or not wanting to know) what their correspondence was about.” Ibid., 31. 80 “You don’t belong to a political party. You’re not a member of any of the mass organizations. You always refuse to take sides.” Ibid., 39. 1 Ibid., 245 8 2 Ibid., 152. 8 3 Ibid., 337. 8 4 Ibid., 171. 8 5 Ibid., 141. 8 6 Ibid., 152. 8

Wayang Novels: From Nationalism to Universal Humanism  69 87 Ibid., 211. 88 Ibid., 179–180. 89 Ibid., 248. 90 Ibid., 180. 91 Ibid., 377. 92 Ibid., 227. 93 Ibid., 377. 94 Ibid., 279. 95 Ibid., 304. 96 Ibid., 230. 97 As mentioned elsewhere, Heryanto and Mohamad highly praise Amba, and Soegiharto similarly argues that “Amba is a world-class novel” [“Amba adalah novel bertaraf world class”]. Bambang Soegiharto, “Enigma Batin Manusia dan Kekonyolan Ideologi,” Kompas, November 11, 2012. The complete list of endorsements can be found on the author’s website. See: https://laksmipamuntjak.com/books/amba. 98 Goenawan Mohamad, “1965.” Tempo, January 6, 2013. 99 See: Anwar Efendi and Burhan Nurgiyantoro, “Integration of Political Facts and Wayang Stories in Modern Indonesian Novels.” Kritika Kultura 36 (February 2021): 31–54. Meghan Downes, “Women Writing Wayang in Post-reform Indonesia: A Comparative Study of Fictional Interventions in Mythology and National History,” in Grace Chin and Kathrina Daud (eds.), The Southeast Asian Woman Writes Back (Singapore: Springer, 2018), 107–127.

5 Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers Who’s Left?

Criticism of the New Order Regime Featured in Mānoa two years after Soeharto stepped down in its issue titled Silenced Voices, the texts about Indonesia in this collection have a coherence of theme: they criticise the New Order regime, with several pieces focusing on the regime’s human rights abuses in relation to 1965.1 As the journal always features translations of literary texts from the Asia-Pacific region, each issue has a guest editor who selects the featured texts; the said editor in Silenced Voices is John McGlynn, who also edited Menagerie 6 (2004), which explains the similarities between the collections. As stated in the description of Silenced Voices, “[m]any of the Indonesian writers in the volume were imprisoned or persecuted for their opposition to the country’s authoritarian governments and draconian restrictions on freedom of expression.” The former tapol whose writings are included in the issue are Putu Oka Sukanta, Colonel Abdul Latief, Hersri Setiawan, and Sujinah. The three male writers detail their ordeals in the New Order’s prison, while Sujinah narrates the difficulties of being a poor woman under the New Order regime.2 Sukanta’s “Leftover Soul” is an excerpt taken from his novel Merajut Harkat (1999). The novel is the first part of a trilogy that is loosely based on the author’s life and spans from the early 1960s to 2015. Following Merajut Harkat, Istana Jiwa was published in 2012, and Celah in 2018. The first novel of the trilogy to be published in English is Celah (Spaces, 2019). Merajut Harkat, which tells of the fate of an alleged communist in prison, followed in 2021 under the title Threads of Dignity, and Istana Jiwa, which in turn tells of the ordeals faced by the female partners of alleged communists, appeared under the title The Turning Wheel in 2022.3 All three were translated by Keith Foulcher, an Australian scholar who disapproved of Lekra and supported the Cultural Manifesto, and published by the Lontar Foundation. The excerpt featured in Silenced Voices summarises the gist of the novel: the protagonist, Mawa, is not a communist – instead, he has a cosmopolitan mindset – but he is sent to Buru Island for having taught in one of the “commie schools.”4 Mawa details how the ideological struggles have reached his kampong, with “[o]ne side leaned to the left and the other to the right-one side supporting DOI: 10.4324/9781003297185-5

Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left?  71 land reform and the redistribution of landholdings, the other supporting landholders and the status quo.”5 As usual, the protagonist is no more than an observer who refuses to take sides, as shown by his conversation with his antileftist brother.6 Mawa is indeed “interested in defending the poor,” but “for that [he does not] think you have to belong to a particular political party.”7 However, as the New Order regime preys on anyone who appears to fall into a grey zone or has a tenuous connection with the PKI, Mawa is still put in prison without trial, as is another inmate, Roto, a government official who is unfortunately related to an alleged leftist, as he tells Mawa: I’m no Communist. I was just carrying out my duties when I got arrested. Why? Because an uncle of mine in the navy, which was supposed to be a den of Communist activity, happened to stop by my house. When they didn’t get him, they came after me instead.8 The regime’s brutality is further shown in the harsh treatment received by the tapol. As the narrator states, “[i]n the penal colony to which Mawa had been exiled, there were no rules or laws to protect those souls struggling to remain human.”9 To the benefit of the reader and summing up the reality in the New Order’s Indonesia, both prisoners also convey that the regime has systematically brainwashed the people, so that after all these years of propaganda, how is anyone ever going to clear the public mind of the government’s Communist paranoia? … At first people were sceptical, but the steady diet of propaganda gradually wore them down and they began to accept what they were told.10 Mawa is shown to be sharing a view with the universal humanists of the 1960s, since he believes that “human rights are in fact universal. All people have the right to express their opinions, the right to choose, and other basic rights,”11 and that “there’s a need for universal values.”12 His open-mindedness is implied to be the result of his European education, which he deems superior, as shown in his following statement: I was a product of Dutch education, which was far ahead of the indigenous Malay system. What I learned is that if you want to promote universalism or fight for basic truths, you have to be ready to risk imprisonment.13 Mawa indeed places a great deal of value on the European education system, further stating that, in relation to the change of governments in 1965–66, Western academia is open-minded compared to that of Indonesia, as “foreign scholars write unbiased books that really confuse Indonesians. These books seem to show that our own scholars are not only uncritical but bootlickers as well.”14 With his worldview and misfortune, Mawa adds to the list of

72  Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left? European-educated cosmopolitans who believes in universal humanism but is unfortunately persecuted by the New Order regime. Another short story in the volume that also features a tapol on Buru Island is Hersri Setiawan’s autobiographical “Between the Bars.” In the short story, which is an excerpt from his essay “Aku orang Abangan” (lit. I am Abangan) in his autobiography Aku Eks Tapol (I was a Political Prisoner, 2003), it is implied that Hersri is imprisoned because he is dubbed an abangan, a term for Javanese Muslims who practiced syncretism. Abangan was unfortunately associated with the PKI, since the latter had been vigorously defending the interests of the abangan, who were poorer than their financially superior counterparts, the priyayi.15 Before 1965, Hersri’s parents were proud of being abangan, people who generally show an open-mindedness in terms of religion, and they frequently state: I’m abangan. It doesn’t really matter where I am, whether in the musholla or the chapel; I go with the flow. I’m just not really versed in formal prayers and such; I’m more comfortable using my own words and following my own way of doing things.16 As a child, Hersri understands abangan as “openness toward all religious beliefs,”17 and he accordingly decides to take all religious classes offered by the school.18 In prison, Hersri oscillates from one religion to another with facility, earning criticism from others whose views represent those of the New Order regime, namely: “Religion is a matter of principle… and if you toy around with principle in that area of your life, then you’re going to toy around in other areas as well.”19 Although Hersri’s openness with regard to religion means that he has a cosmopolitan mindset, this also makes him a villain under the regime that associated abangan with the PKI. Another non-fictional account in Silenced Voices is “I, the Accused,” an excerpt from Colonel Abdul Latief’s defence before the High Military Court in 1978. The excerpt graphically details his suffering in the Salemba Prison following his arrest on October 11, 1965, and was later included in his book, titled Pledoi Kol. A. Latief: Soeharto terlibat G 30 S (Defense of Col. A. Latief: Soeharto was Involved in September 30 Movement, 1998). Latief’s book claims that Soeharto knew about the plan to kidnap the generals, since Latief himself reported it to Soeharto, but chose to do nothing about it, whereas Latief thought that the generals, believed to be preparing a revolt against Soekarno, were only supposed to be taken to the president instead of being murdered.20 The excerpt focuses on the New Order regime’s brutal treatment of all tapol, with Latief making an appeal to human rights and hoping that “[his] telling this story will mean that in Indonesia – indeed, in the whole world – violations of law and of human rights will be reduced.”21 The excerpt portrays the regime, particularly in terms of human rights, in an extremely

Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left?  73 negative light, considering that Latief “was not the only one treated in this fashion: all of the other political prisoners of the October coup had similar experiences – some even more inhumane than [his].”22 Latief also criticises the regime’s infamous “Clean Environment” policy; citing the suffering of his innocent children (the eldest was only 18 years old), he says: “It is terrible that such suffering should be visited on innocent family members – that they should be hounded and mistreated only because of their association with me.”23 As such, “I, the Accused” serves as another catalogue of evidence of the New Order regime’s brutality toward innocents. Another text in Silenced Voices that also highlights the persecution of the innocent is an excerpt from Ahmad Tohari’s novel Ronggeng Dukuh Paruk (1982), titled “Village Dancer.” Tohari was not imprisoned by the New Order regime, but his novel was censored by the publisher out of fear of governmental repercussions for portraying officials in a negative light; “Village Dancer,” on the other hand, “contains some of that banned material.”24 The titular dancer, Srintil, “wasn’t a Communist. She didn’t even know what the word meant,”25 but she is put in prison only because she often performed at Communist propaganda meetings in her backward village. The excerpt implies that Srintil is treated badly in prison, so that “[o]ver and over in the past few months she had been forced to question the very meaning of her existence. The people around her had made her feel that she was a disgrace to humanity.”26 Fictitious Srintil again represents myriad individuals who are imprisoned only because of a tenuous connection with the Left. Among the four texts depicting the victims of the anti-leftist purge in Silenced Voices, two texts (Sukanta’s and Hersri’s) depict cosmopolitan-minded individuals: they are the fictitious Mawa (who is based on Sukanta) and Hersri himself; while two others (Latief’s and Tohari’s) depict individuals who are not involved with communism, namely Latief, his children, and the fictitious Srintil. Sukanta’s and Tohari’s novels would later receive accolades following the publication of excerpts in Mānoa. Tohari’s was eventually translated into English by the Lontar Foundation in 2012. Included in the Frankfurt Book Fair 2015, The Dancer received high publicity alongside Amba and Home.27 At this particular book fair, taking place on the 50th anniversary of the mass killings and at which Indonesia was the Guest of Honour, it comes as no surprise that novels set in 1965 took centre stage. Sukanta’s novel, translated around a decade after Tohari’s, similarly received mentions in the media after its publication, with one reviewer praising Lontar’s initiative in bringing the novel international attention.28 Sukanta indeed had high expectations of Western readers, as he stated in 2019: “[P]olitically, I hope that foreigners will join me to encourage our government to be more democratic.”29 The four translated texts in Silenced Voices, highlighting the ordeals of individuals who are mistaken for leftists, can indeed serve as an appeal to foreigners. Similar texts can also be found in Menagerie 6, which serves the same purpose.

74  Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left? Political Exiles and Cosmopolitan Values Many of the writers in Menagerie 6, a collection that was published by the Lontar Foundation, were active in Lekra and, apart from Bachtiar Siagian and Pramoedya, settled in Europe after their passports had been revoked following the change of government in 1965–66. Their short stories have a number of similarities: they are based on the writers’ own experiences and are often written from the first-person point of view, they show the brutality of the New Order regime, and although written by “leftists,” they do not contain leftist teachings, with several even pointing out the dangers of communism. The most neutral stories are A. Kohar Ibrahim’s “Fleeting Memories,” which simply mentions the lifelong friendship of several exiles in Europe, and J. Sura’s “The Suitcase,” which tells of a simple detail about the first-person narrator’s imminent move from Russia to the Netherlands, likely after Indonesian exiles are no longer welcome in Russia, and his hunt for a suitable suitcase. Soeprijadi Tomodiharjo’s “One of the Flock” is only slightly more political; it tells the story of an old exile who, out of homesickness, returns to Indonesia, only to be arrested at the airport. Also lightly political are Bachtiar Siagian’s “Free Fall” and “Pecking Order,” which tell in a rather humorous way of the inhumane treatments of tapol in the New Order’s prisons, with the tapol being wong cilik, who are unlikely to be involved in politics. Several short stories are more political and contain a lot of criticism. Chalik Hamid’s “With Tears in Her Eyes” aims its criticism at the New Order regime: it tells the story of Irma, a young working-class Indonesian who, like many who grow up under the regime, has been completely brainwashed by the grand narrative that all leftists are evil. Uneducated and gullible, she also accepts instances of corruption as a common practice. As she says: “Because there isn’t enough, employees are forced to be corrupt. There’s no other way. The police, the army, the generals – their needs are even greater … If the army isn’t strong, our enemies will wipe us out.”30 In a similar vein, Rondang Erlina Marpaung criticises Soeharto’s regime for impoverishing the country and killing students, with one dead student, as the first-person narrator imagines, narrating his criticism from beyond the grave: “Listen to me, President Suharto: Indonesia is a rich country but has become one of the poorest in the world because of you, your family, and your ruling clique.”31 Asahan Alham Aidit’s “Halimah” criticises not only Soeharto’s regime, but also other repressive countries. The first-person narrator, a political exile (likely from Indonesia), is “living on the dole” in the Netherlands and manipulated by Halimah, a beautiful woman from Morocco who lives there illegally to avoid being killed by her spurned boyfriend. When Halimah is deported back to Morocco, the protagonist muses about his fate should he be deported too: Hopefully, Halimah’s boyfriend didn’t kill her. Being killed means only one thing, death. And it’s the same, whether it’s actually carried out by

Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left?  75 a dictator or a boyfriend. Before a human being dies, the soul is its most valuable asset, but freedom is also extremely important.32 It is implied that, whereas the Netherlands can offer people life and freedom, other “Third World” countries like Indonesia and Morocco cannot. Other short stories in Menagerie 6 that juxtapose the safety provided by countries in the Western bloc with the uncertainties of the Eastern bloc are Sobron Aidit’s “Termination of Contract” and “Naturalization,” which were both written in 1993 and first published in his collection Romantika Orang Buangan (Romance of the Outcast, 2006). In “Termination of Contract,” the first-person narrator, Sofyan (whose life reflects Sobron’s), is a journalist who can no longer work for Radio Beijing because his contract is abruptly terminated, leaving him with nowhere to go as his Indonesian passport has been revoked. His life in Mao’s China has been difficult, as he gradually realises that it is “forbidden to have [individual] liberty,” because “individual liberty [is] non-existent in China.”33 Communism is also shown as having failed in promoting people’s welfare, so that everyone must live frugally; as Sofyan observes, “[m]y friends lived very modestly. One, an employee of Radio Beijing, received a salary of sixty-six yuan despite having worked there for thirty years!”34 He eventually loses his job for being too critical, as “[his friends] were generally people who were sharply critical of their own government’s politics, a situation the Chinese government did not appreciate.”35 After having settled in France, Sofyan tells everyone to “[g]o and observe China, but do not live there!”36 He returns to China as a tourist only when he is elderly, and finds that things have changed, with fanatics being forced to retire for practical reasons.37 France, on the contrary, is depicted as being more moderate. The short story “Naturalization” details the red tape involved in acquiring French citizenship. A French official nevertheless shows a good deal of respect toward the narrator, who gives honest answers without any flattery, and he obtains the needed citizenship.38 A particularly similar story to Aidit’s “Termination of Contract” is Martin Aleida’s “Tanah Air” (2016), which is not taken from Menagerie 6. It tells the story of a Chinese Indonesian named Ang, a sport journalist who is stranded abroad after his passport is revoked by the New Order regime. Before settling in the Netherlands, Ang is initially also stranded in Mao’s China, of which he gradually comes to disapprove: When the Cultural Revolution spreads all over Mainland China, he often finds himself in a pensive mood, disbelieving what he is witnessing. He hears that, in the whole country, a person is venerated more than Guan Yin [the Goddess of Mercy].39 Under Mao’s backward communist regime, an educated person like Ang is treated harshly, so that “he feels alienated, exiled, pushed out from a normal

76  Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left? word. He is not allowed to leave the housing complex. From a trained writer, he is made to carry the human faeces used as fertiliser for plants.”40 Like many political exiles, he still longs for his motherland, despite being treated badly by the Indonesian government and after having found a haven in Europe, a sentiment expressed by a pocketful of Indonesian soil that he carries everywhere with him until his death by suicide. Ang’s anger is directed at Soeharto’s regime, which he deems “fascist,” and he tells his wife to join him abroad and to “not leave a cent in that country of fascists.”41 Although “Tanah Air” is not translated into English yet, it received high publicity, as it was chosen as the best short story by a major national newspaper, Kompas, in 2016. Pramoedya’s short story “Arrogance” similarly focuses its criticism on the New Order regime, which is uncharacteristic of the author, who generally blamed the Western bloc for masterminding Soeharto’s ascension to power. The short story focuses on the regime’s invasion of East Timor, with the firstperson narrator remonstrating: “Most people would have called East Timor’s invasion and occupation by the military “colonization,” but the New Order government called it ‘integration’ instead.”42 The brutality of the regime is again emphasised at the end of the story, as the narrator continues his lecture: “We have seen where the arrogance of power has led this nation: not only to the debasement of its own citizens’ rights, but also the colonization of a land not of our own, that of East Timor.”43 This statement is reminiscent of the one from a lost video interview with Pramoedya on August 26, 1999, which has since disappeared from the web but whose transcript was provided by the interviewers (Daniel McGuire, Injil Abubakar, and Lexy Rambadeta) who cite Pramoedya as follows: Regarding East Timor, that was an excessively stupid thing. Indonesia was founded to oppose colonialism. It is a country that was colonised by a small country. Now that it has become quite a large country, why should it colonise? … The issue of East Timor was engineered by the [Indonesian] army alone.44 However, as will be discussed below, Pramoedya wrote the opposite in another outlet, stating that the Indonesian invasion of East Timor was the aftermath of the Cold War, carried out by Soeharto’s army with the blessings of the same actors who masterminded his ascension to power. Menagerie 6 also contains Pramoedya’s other atypical short story, titled “Tailalat” (“Moles,” 1997), which was first published in 1997 in the liberal-leaning journal Kalam, which belonged to Goenawan Mohamad’s Komunitas Utan Kayu (now Salihara).45 “Moles” refers to the history of Indonesia from the colonial to the New Order period. The first-person narrator is put in prison in 1966, but it is not explicitly explained whether he is there for being connected to the PKI or for another crime. The character called “Moles,” on the other hand, is likely implicated with the PKI, since he is scheduled to be transferred to Buru Island,

Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left?  77 a gulag for leftist dissidents, although he manages to get away beforehand by tricking the gaolers. The short story closes with a description of Moles living in abject poverty, a common sight during the New Order regime. “Moles” is accordingly perceived as a criticism of the regime’s authoritarian capitalism, with one reviewer concluding that “[t]he chasm between rich and poor has rapidly grown. The strenuous attempts of the less privileged to gain minimal economic ground are recklessly destroyed by the greed and profiteering of the rich and mighty.”46 The short story also draws a stark comparison between Buru Island and Boeven Digoel, a concentration camp in West Papua for political prisoners of the Dutch East Indian government, with Buru depicted as brutal and Digoel as not only the lesser of two evils, but even gentle. Moles, who spent time in both prisons, testifies to this effect: Prisoners there [in Digul] were guaranteed their meals and those who fell ill received better treatment than they might have in Java. As long as they worked in the field, they were paid ten cents per hour. Those prisoners who were willing to work for the colonial administration received even more … In colonial times, after three days after being held without reason, one could demand redress. But on Buru a prisoner could be murdered without anyone ever investigating the case. Primitive minds! And on top of that we were forced to recite government doctrine. In Digul, the colonial officials respected the political views and attitudes the prisoners held. Primitive! Primitive!47 With this high praise of the Dutch East Indian prison, “Moles” does not reflect Pramoedya’s usual disapproval of the Dutch colonisers. A reviewer accordingly concludes that Moles’s statement cannot possibly reflect the view of the author, since Pramoedya disapproved of any form of colonialism and harshly criticised the Dutch colonial system.48 Astama’s “Ooh Lala” is the most political in the collection and criticises not only Soeharto, but also Soekarno and the Eastern bloc, leaving only the Western bloc out of the line of fire. It details a philosophical conversation between an exile and his German friend, Theo, who used to be a member of the East German Communist Party. Theo’s son was killed by the Party for trying to defect to West Germany, prompting the first-person narrator to think that communists are like animals who do not respect basic human rights, whereas the United Nations, on the contrary, has struggled to enforce them.49 Soeharto is naturally depicted as a corrupt leader who steals from his own people.50 Under his regime, Indonesia has become a country of corruptors, so much so that, as the German says, “if you want to learn how to be corrupt, you should go to Indonesia … corruption is so common and so open that no one even gets embarrassed about it.”51 Soekarno is said to be “a good listener, one who was even willing to consider the opinions of communists.”52 Communism is heavily criticised: it is said to be “a beautiful idea … But the experiment failed.”53

78  Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left? Theo and the narrator agree that many communists are like “cockroaches” that end up embarking on a killing spree. Another short story that also criticises Soekarno is Mawie Ananta Joni’s “As High as the Heron Flies,” which delivers a veiled attack on Soekarno’s government, whose army is said to have opened fire on mere high schoolers who belonged to KAPI, the anti-leftist student organisation, during an anti-Soekarno demonstration.54 The cited incident on Salemba Street refers to the death of Arief Rachman Hakim, which was much highlighted in an attempt to precipitate Soekarno’s downfall.55 Although many of the contributors of Menagerie 6 belonged to Lekra, they were not staunch leftists. Bachtiar Siagian, for instance, might be a member of Lekra, but his films, which were banned under the New Order regime, did not spread communism or even social realism.56 Aleida was imprisoned for a year because he worked for Zaman Baru and Harian Rakyat, two dailies which belonged to Lekra, but after his release he worked for Tempo, which was founded by Goenawan Mohamad, from 1971 to 1984.57 Prone to being suspected as real leftists are D. N. Aidit’s brothers, but despite their being closely related to the chairman of the PKI, there is no evidence that Sobron and Asahan Aidit were leftists. Sobron was close to Chairil Anwar, Rivai Apin, Asrul Sani, and H. B. Jassin58 – the first three were known as avant-garde writers, whereas Jassin would be one of the signatories of the Cultural Manifesto. Sobron, with his vast literary circle from among the Left and elsewhere, would later become the inspiration for Dimas, the protagonist in Leila Chudori’s Pulang, who is more of a cosmopolitan and observer than a leftist (and who, like Sobron, opens an Indonesian restaurant in Paris). In a similar vein, Asahan states clearly in his memoir, Alhamdulillah, that he had nothing to do with communism, his only tenuous link to the forbidden ideology being his kinship to D. N. Aidit. As he says: If only I had not had an elder brother, perhaps I would never have anything to do with the revolution, either to talk about it or to make it for good. How tedious, how nauseating is this life. History cannot be repaired.59 His interview with Tempo in 1997 from his home in Hoofddorp, the Netherlands, provides further hints that he disapproves of Lekra. For instance, the interviewer noted that “there was a stack of books by Gabriel Garcia Márquez displayed at the corner of his desk.”60 Since Márquez is known as a pioneer of magical realism, this detail – apparently worthy enough to be mentioned – hints at Asahan’s not being a staunch supporter of social realism. Asahan also criticised Lekra for its over-zealousness in spreading social realism when the PKI was in power,61 and delivered a thinly veiled attack to writers who criticised Ayu Utami’s Saman, a highly publicised novel that has at times been accused of promoting neoliberalism, thus hinting at his openness to values championed by the opponents of the Left.62

Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left?  79 Among the contributors in Menagerie 6, only Pramoedya was ever outspoken about his support of Lekra, for instance in his article “Jang Harus Dibabat Dan Harus Dibangun” (What Needs to be Cleaned and to be Built, 1962), and openly campaigned for “Art for People’s Sake” under Soekarno’s Guided Democracy.63 As a committed socialist writer, his allegiance to the Left was obvious, and he often accused the Western bloc of neocolonialism in Third World countries, as he stated in John Pilger’s documentary in 2001: For hundreds of years Indonesia was sucked dry by the rich countries of the West. It wasn’t just Indonesia, but all the countries of the coloured peoples. In this way, the West became strong and prosperous, controlling finance and commerce. Now we are dictated to by the IMF and the World Bank. A country as rich as Indonesia has been turned into a country of beggars, because the Indonesian elite is spineless.64 In an article in East Timor’s first political magazine, Talitakum, which was published around the same time of his interview with John Pilger, Pramoedya – in contradiction with the gist of his short story “Moles” – similarly accused the United States and its allies from the Western bloc to being behind Indonesia’s invasion of East Timor in 1975, stating: Soekarno’s fall was none other than the insane product of the Cold War that contained a great fear of communism. The annexation of East Timor by Soeharto’s army was also the remnants of said product. Didn’t the United States, with the silent agreement of its Allies, give Soeharto a carte blanche to invade East Timor? The reason behind being the fear of East Timor becoming a stronghold of communism in Southeast Asia.65 Pramoedya’s “Arrogance” and “Moles,” on the contrary, are highly critical of the New Order regime, but unlike his other writings, do not go beyond criticising Soeharto and avoid discussing the Cold War, a subject on which he usually had a strong opinion, specifically against the Western bloc. Both stories thus fit with other texts in Menagerie 6 and, by extension, Lontar’s other publications, which are critical of the Left and the authoritarian New Order regime. Conclusion This chapter highlights the international publicity given to short stories written by alleged leftists. At first glance, it seems surprising that the Lontar Foundation and Kompas endorse writings by individuals who were branded as leftists; after all, the Lontar Foundation was founded by, among others, Goenawan Mohamad and Umar Kayam, who positioned themselves at the opposite end of the political spectrum from the Left, whereas Kompas, which published Aleida’s Tanah Air, was founded by Auwjong Peng Koen, whose

80  Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left? allegiance to the Western bloc at the peak of the Cold War was obvious as well, as can be seen through his magazine Star Weekly.66 On closer inspection, however, it becomes clear that the selected short stories neither promote the teachings of the Left nor pose any threat to the opposition of the Left. Several even highlight the dangers of communism, such as the deplorable condition under Mao, and praise Western Europe for being more moderate. Even the stories by Pramoedya, who was usually critical of the Western bloc, imply the superiority of the Western European system and aim their criticisms only at the New Order regime. In other words, the short stories published in Mānoa and ­Menagerie 6 are harmless to the ideological opponents of the Left. As has become the pattern in literary texts about 1965, the short stories in these ­collections – even those written by members of Lekra – only tell of the ordeals of individuals mistaken for leftists. Since the New Order regime indiscriminately persecuted anyone with any tenuous connection with the PKI, who is actually not a leftist, these stories represent a big step forward in terms of humanity, but they still conform to the anti-leftist narrative, as it is unclear in them whether real leftists, virtually not addressed in these texts, deserved persecution or not. The reticence with which the authors talk about real leftists in their writings suggests a self-censorship, which in turn adds to the complexities into studying the role of literature in relation to the anti-leftist grand narrative. Notes 1 Though they are labelled short stories by the publishers, many of the texts are based on the author’s experience. 2 Three other contributors, Ayu Utami, Seno Gumira Ajidarma and Ratna Sarumpaet, are known to be outspoken against the New Order regime, as is also reflected in their short stories in this volume. As the texts do not deal with the anti-leftist purge in particular, though, they are beyond the scope of this chapter. 3 The Turning Wheel, focusing on the ordeals of the family members of alleged communists, completes the portrayal on the New Order regime’s indiscriminate persecution of almost everyone with any slight connection to the PKI, while portraying the regime to be corrupt as well, as shown in the novel’s concluding remark: “Suharto fell, leaving a debt of 43 billion dollars, equals to 387 trillion (rupiah). Our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren must pay it too” [“Suharto jatuh mewariskan hutang 43 milyard dollar, sama dengan 387 triliun. Anak, cucu dan cicit kita harus ikut membayarnya].” Putu Oka Sukanta, Istana Jiwa (Jakarta: Jaringan Kerja Kebudayaan Rakyat, 2012), 316. 4 Putu Oka Sukanta, “Leftover Soul,” trans. Lynne Samson, Mānoa 12: 1 (Summer 2000), Silenced Voices: New Writing from Indonesia, 218. As the novel makes clear, the school simply has a connection with Lekra. 5 Ibid., 216. 6 “‘You have to join a party, Mawa. You’ve got to make a choice.’ But I still refused to take sides.” Ibid. 7 Ibid. 8 Ibid., 219. 9 Ibid., 217. 10 Ibid., 220. 11 Ibid.

Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left?  81 12 13 14 15

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Harold Crouch, The Army and Politics in Indonesia (Jakarta, Singapore: Equinox, 1978), 155. 16 Hersri Setiawan, “Between the Bars,” trans. Mary Zurbuchen, Mānoa 12: 1 (Summer 2000), Silenced Voices: New Writing from Indonesia, 27. 17 Ibid., 28. 18 “As for which religion class I would like to take, I checked all the choices: Islam, Christian-Protestant, and Catholic.” Ibid. 19 Ibid., 33–34. 20 See: Abdul Latief, Pledoi Kol. A. Latief: Soeharto terlibat G 30 S (Jakarta: Institut Studi Arus Informasi, 1998). 21 Abdul Latief, “I, the Accused,” trans. Tim Behrend, Mānoa 12: 1 (Summer 2000), Silenced Voices: New Writing from Indonesia, 196. 22 Ibid., 198. 23 Ibid., 196. 24 John McGlynn, “Silenced Voices, Muted Expressions: Indonesian Literature Today,” Mānoa 12: 1 (Summer 2000), Silenced Voices: New Writing from Indonesia, 42. 25 Ahmad Tohari, “Village Dancer,” trans. René T. A. Lysloff, Mānoa 12: 1 (Summer 2000), Silenced Voices: New Writing from Indonesia, 22. 26 Ibid. 27 The Dancer enjoyed the same level of publicity at the Frankfurt Book Fair 2015 as Amba and Pulang, whose authors were invited to sit on the much coveted “Blue Sofa,” a prestigious spot reserved for the authors of critically acclaimed novels, such as Isabel Allende. Media also reported from the Frankfurt Book Fair the importance of the novel in terms of the year 1965, mentioning that, “[a]t the [Indonesian] pavilion, Ahmad Tohari introduced his novel Ronggeng Dukuh Paruk (The Dancer) and the events of 1965, the dark chapter in Indonesia’s history.” Yuliasri Perdani, “Time to Shine for Indonesian Literature,” The Jakarta Post, October 18, 2005. See also: Bettina David, “The Silence is Broken,” Qantara, October 14, 2015. https://en.qantara.de/content/ laksmi-pamuntjaks-novel-the-question-of-red-the-silence-is-broken 28 “The publisher, Lontar, is to be commended for supporting translations of significant Indonesian works such as these novels [Sukanta’s trilogy].” Ron Witton, “Book Review: A Life Told in Three Parts,” Inside Indonesia, July 11, 2022. 29 Lara Norgaard, “Putu Oka Sukanta and the Hidden Wounds of World History,” Asymptote, January 16, 2020. https://www.asymptotejournal.com/special-feature/ lara-norgaard-on-putu-oka-sukanta/ 30 Chalik Hamid, “With Tears in Her Eyes,” trans. Ayi Solehuddin and Theresa Rohlck, in Menagerie 6 (Jakarta: Lontar, 2004), 45. 31 Rondang Erlina Marpaung, “I Want to Live,” trans. Stephen Eppstein, in Menagerie 6 (Jakarta: Lontar, 2004), 62. 32 Asahan Alham, “Halimah,” trans. George Mitrowijoyo, in Menagerie 6 (Jakarta: Lontar, 2004), 22. 33 Sobron Aidit, “Termination of Contract,” trans. Jan Hostetler, in Menagerie 6 (Jakarta: Lontar, 2004), 76. 34 Ibid., 74. 35 Ibid., 75. 36 Ibid., 76. 37 As explained by Sofyan’s Chinese host, “[i]f many people were rigid and disliked, how could there be cooperation with foreigners, how would foreign capital enter the land, right?” Ibid., 79.

82  Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left? 38 Upon being asked about his love to France, the Indonesian exile answers: “Love France? I don’t feel I can say that yet. I still love Indonesia … I will try my best to honour all the laws of France.” Sobron Aidit, “Naturalization,” trans. Jeff Roberts, in Menagerie 6 (Jakarta: Lontar, 2004), 84. 39 “Ketika Revolusi Kebudayaan membanjir di seluruh daratan Tiongkok, dia acapkali termenung, tak percaya akan apa yang dia saksikan. Dia dengar di seluruh negeri itu seorang manusia sedang dipuja melebihi dewi Kwan Im.” Martin Aleida, “Tanah Air,” in Putu Fajar Arcana (ed.), Tanah Air: Cerpen Pilihan Kompas 2016 (Jakarta: Kompas, 2016), 3. 40 “Dia merasa benar-benar dikucilkan, disingkirkan, dari dunia yang wajar. Dilarang keluar dari kompleks perumahan. Dari seorang yang terlatih menulis, dia menjadi pengangkut kotoran manusia untuk pupuk tanaman.” Ibid. 41 “Jangan tinggalkan sepeser pun di negeri yang dikuasai fasis itu.” Ibid., 5. 42 Pramoedya Ananta Toer, “Arrogance,” trans. Willem Samuels, in Menagerie 6 (Jakarta: The Lontar Foundation, 2004), 210. 43 Ibid., 212. 44 Wayan J. Sastrawan, “Pramoedya’s Message to the Youth of Indonesia,” New Perspective of Southeast Asia, February 6, 2017. https://www.newmandala.org/ pramoedyas-message-to-the-youth-of-indonesia/ 45 Pramoedya Ananta Toer, “Tailalat.” Kalam 10 (1997): 108–116. 46 Doris Jedamski, “The Short Story ‘Mole’ by Pramoedya Ananta Toer: A Personal Comment,” in Harry Poeze and Antoinette Liem (eds.), Lasting Fascination. Essays on Indonesia and the Southwest Pacific to Honour Bob Hering (Jakarta: Yayasan Kabar Seberang, 1998), 59. 47 Pramoedya Ananta Toer, “Moles,” trans. Willem Samuels, in Menagerie 6, 223–224. 48 “It comes as a surprise, however, to hear the Mole’s comment on banishment under Dutch colonial rule in comparison to Soeharto’s New Order. It is too much praise to possibly be the author’s voice, one might think, particularly when remembering Pramoedya’s tetralogy that brilliantly exposes the cruelty of the Dutch colonial system.” Doris Jedamski, “The Short Story ‘Mole’,” 60. 49 “Many people had struggled to make sure that certain aspects of humanity be recognized as basic human rights. The United Nations and its Universal Declaration of Human Rights declared this were so.” Astama, “Ooh Lala,” trans. Ted Thornton, in Menagerie 6 (Jakarta: Lontar, 2004), 26. 50 “‘Suharto’ is short for suka harta orang, which means, a person who likes other people’s property’.” Ibid. 51 Ibid., 29. 52 Ibid., 28. 53 Ibid., 35. 54 “[W]hen the group of students from his high school reached Salemba, the street outside the University of Indonesia, they were fired on. The parade broke up in mad confusion, with no head and no tail.” Mawie Ananta Joni, “As High as the Heron Flies,” trans. Mary Northmore, in Menagerie 6 (Jakarta: Lontar, 2004), 60. 55 Jusuf Wanandi, the brother of the famous anti-leftist activist Sofjan Wanandi, details the death of Arief Rachman Hakim as the result of Soekarno’s dictatorship, as “Sukarno was mad at us, and so we were at him – one of our people, Arief Rachman Hakim, was shot dead by Presidential Guards in Jakarta.” Jusuf Wanandi, Shades of Grey: A Political Memoir of Modern Indonesia, 1965–1998 (Jakarta and Singapore: Equinox, 2012), 59. 56 In 2015, when Siagian’s film Violetta was screened for the first time after 1965 by the Jakarta Arts Council, the audience was surprised to discover that the film did not contain any leftist teachings, as testified by Siagian’s daughter: “After the screening, it appeared that many members of the audience holding such expectations were

Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left?  83 bewildered. What happened was that they had just watched a tragic drama that did not explicitly convey a story of class struggle, such as the general narrative of leftist activism that has been overshadowed by the Cold War.” Bunga Siagian, “The Disappearing Decade: Agency of Leftist Subject in Indonesian Film History,” trans. Pychita Julinanda, Monographs, January 11, 2021. https://www.asianfilmarchive. org/the-disappearing-decade-agency-of-leftist-subject-in-indonesian-film-history/ 57 The fact that a signatory of the Cultural Manifesto offered a position to a former tapol accused of supporting the PKI supposedly indicates a reconciliation between the two opposing groups, for which Mohamad earns praises, for instance, “GM [Goenawan Mohamad] nevertheless continued to sympathize with the Left. He opened Tempo’s doors not only for Martin, but for Amarzan Lubis, Boejoeng Saleh, and Manyaka Thayeb. He also expressed a deep sympathy for Pramoedya Ananta Toer.” Imam Muhtarom, “Romantisme Tahun Kekerasan (Sebuah Memoar), by Martin Aleida,” Bijdragen tot de taal-, land- en volkenkunde 176 (November 2020): 576–577. Mohamad also edited Tinuk Yampolski’s novel Candik ala 1965 (2011), which shows the persecution of alleged leftists in Solo from the eyes of a seven-year-old child. Not every scholar sees this move as a reconciliation, however. Wijaya Herlambang, for one, argues that Mohamad’s tolerance to leftleaning individuals is aimed “to give the impression that this group [his cultural community, Komunitas Utan Kayu] is not only democratic but also faux-leftist.” Wijaya Herlambang, Cultural Violence: Its Practice and Challenge in Indonesia (Düsseldorf: VDM Publishing, 2011), 173. 58 Arif Zulkifli and Bagja Hidayat, Aidit: Dua Wajah Dipa Nusantara (Jakarta: Kepustakaan Populer Gramedia, 2010), 49. 9 Asahan Aidit, Alhamdulillah: Roman Memoar (Jakarta: Lembaga Sastra Pembeba5 san, 2006), 231. 60 “Setumpuk buku Gabriel Garcia Marquez terpajang disudut meja kerjanya.” Asahan Aidit, “Asahan Aidit: Sastra Tidak Bisa Dihambat Rasa Iri Hati,” Tempo, November 26, 2007. https://majalah.tempo.co/read/wawancara/125632/ asahan-aiditsastra-tak-bisa-dihambat-rasa-iri-hati 61 “I find Lekra over-zealous. They were too enthusiastic in limiting works, [i.e.,] only for the People. At any rate, [they must] represent the People. So fierce.” [“Lekra saya anggap terlalu antusias. Mereka sangat antusias membatasi karya untuk rakyat. Pokoknya, harus mewakili rakyat! Galak, deh”] Ibid. 62 For a critical analysis of how Goenawan Mohamad gave Saman a great deal of publicity – which it was claimed was undeserved – for promoting liberal values, see Katrin Bandel, “Politik Sastra Komunitas Utan Kayu di Eropa,” in Saut Situmorang (ed.), Sastra Nasionalisme Pascakolonialitas (Jogjakarta: Pustaka Harian, 2003), 97–114. One of the most famous critics of Saman is the socialist writer Pramoedya, who wrote on the blurb that had he finished the novel, he would feel like he was a tapol again [“Melanjutkan membaca ini rasanya saya jadi tapol lagi”]. On the contrary, Umar Kayam praised Saman highly on the blurb, stating that the novel “can hardly be matched by young writers. Even veteran writers might not be able to match her” [“Saya kira susah ditandingi penulis-penulis muda sekarang. Penulis tua pun, belum tentu bisa menandingi dia”]. Asahan similarly praised Saman, stating: “I think the appearance of someone like Ayu Utami in modern Indonesian literature can spearhead an international perspective … She is still superior to other writers, and, for writers who don’t have the same taste, that can trigger envy” [“Saya kira munculnya seorang Ayu Utami dalam sastra Indonesia modern bisa membuka perspektif yang menginternasional … Dia masih banyak keunggulannya yang lain, dan itu bagi pengarang yang tidak satu selera dengannya bisa menimbulkan rasa iri hati].” Asahan Aidit, “Sastra Tidak Bisa Dihambat Rasa Iri Hati.”

84  Short Stories by “Leftist” Writers: Who’s Left? 63 “We must remember the doctrine held by artists and culturalists belonging to Lekra that taught that ‘Politics is the Commander.’ The tragic experience of several [Eurocentric] intellectuals [Alisjahbana, Hazairin, and Tatengkeng] has proven that Lekra’s doctrine is right. In order to avoid the repetition of such tragedy coming from culturalists and artists who are expected to contribute to the process of nation-building, the passivity of politics that might lead to arts and thoughts going astray must be cleared away, cleaned. The cause of this malady should not be given the slightest of opportunity, as it can still spread its wings until today” [“Sampai disini orang terpaksa mengingat doktrin jang dipegang oleh seniman2 dan budajawan2 jang tergabung dalam organisasi kebudajaan Lekra, jang mengadjarkan bahwa ‘politik adalah panglima.’ Pengalaman dari orang2 pintar tapi tragik itu membuktikan kebenaran dari doktrin Lekra tsb. Sampai disini pula dapat ditentukan bahwa untuk menghindari terdjadinja ulangan2 tragedi jg sia2 didengar para budajawan2 dan seniman jang toh diharapkan sumbangannja pada nasion-building, maka ketidaktugasan politik, jang menjebabkan timbulnja seni dan pemikiran gelandangan, harus disapu, harus dibabat. Tidak perlu diberikan luang seketjil2nja pun untuk membiarkan berkembang dan berlarut unsur2 penjakit ini, jang ternjata masih dapat mengembangkan sajapnja sampai dewasa ini”]. Pramoedya Ananta Toer, “Jang Harus Dibabat dan Yang Harus Dibangun,” Bintang Timur, August 10, 1962. For an analysis of how Pramoedya’s statement was interpreted by Lekra’s opponents as an invitation to kill, see: Ben Abel, “Beholding a Landmark of Guilt: Pramoedya in the Early 1960s and the Current Regime,” Indonesia 64 (October 1997): 21–28. 64 “Ratusan tahun lamanya Indonesia dihisap oleh negara barat sehingga barat menjadi kuat, menjadi makmur, menguasai keuangan dan perdagangan sampai sekarang. Melalui instrumen yang bernama IMF dan keikut-sertaan Bank Dunia, Indonesia telah didikte dan disesap habis hingga negeri yang begitu kaya akan sumber daya alam diubah menjadi negara pengemis, karena tidak adanya karakter pada elite.” John Pilger, The New Rulers of the World (Carlton Television, 2001). 65 “Kejatuhan Sukarno tidak lain adalah produk Perang Dingin yang gila dan takut setengah mati pada momok komunisme. Aneksasi Timor Timur oleh serdadu-­ serdadu Suharto di tahun 1975 pun tidak lain adalah sisa-sisa produk Perang Dingin yang itu-itu juga. Bukankah Amerika dengan kesepakatan bungkam sekutusekutunya yang mengedipkan mata kepada jendral Suharto untuk mempersilakannya masuk menduduki wilayah Timor Timur? Alasannya: mencegah Timor Timur menjadi pangkalan komunis di Asia Tenggara.” Pramoedya Ananta Toer, Talitakum 41 (June 2000): 5. 66 In the 1960s, Star Weekly regularly published articles from Lekra’s opponents that criticised the Left and/or Guided Democracy, for instance: Wiratmo Soekito, “Beberapa Persoalan Di Sekitar Angkatan ’45,” Star Weekly 743, March 26, 1960; Ida Anak Agung Gde Agung, “Ayub Khan di Pakistan dan Salazar di Portugal,” Star Weekly 743, March 26, 1960. Readers in the 1950s debated the magazine’s ideological position, with one anti-leftist reader writing: “If SW [Star Weekly] often berates the leftists, actually it is merely a counter attack toward the leftists who like to berate the rightists in an exaggerated manner” [“Apabila SW sering mendjelek2 kaum kiri, sebetulnya itu hanja ‘serangan balasan’ kepada kaum kiri yang suka mendjelek2 kaum kanan setjara hebat sekali].” Liem Hian Liang, Star Weekly, August 27, 1955.

6 Surrealist and Realist Novels Post-Authoritarian Writers Revisiting Official History

The PKI in Surrealist Novels Surrealist novels are those using a unique narrative style such as magical realism. As a part of the reaction against avant-garde art, magical realism has often been claimed as having the same intention as social realism, namely “[to] protest against dictatorship and exploitation lower strata in capitalist systems.”1 The sequel of Ayu Utami’s sensational Saman (1998), titled Larung (2001), reflects the very attempt at combining the supernatural with social concerns. The reference to 1965 is slight, with the focus of the novel being the late authoritarian period. The eponymous protagonist’s grandmother is Calon Arang, a witch who often resorts to black magic. On a more realistic plane, Larung’s father is killed during the anti-leftist purge, and Larung, after successfully killing his grandmother, becomes a political activist. The novel is full of underground movements in the face of the oppressive New Order regime that eventually result in the deaths of several political activists, including Larung. While New York provides a haven for the activists and cosmopolitan women, both the New Order regime and the PKI are shown to have made Indonesia an unsafe place to live, since between the two, “there are no heroes. There are only winners and losers. Because no matter who won – the Army, the Communists, the Fifth Force, or anyone with whatever ideology – they would commit the same cruelty against their enemies.”2 Published only a year later, Eka Kurniawan also used magical realism in Cantik Itu Luka (Beauty is a Wound, 2002), intertwining historical facts with the supernatural, to retell the history of modern Indonesia from Dutch colonial rule and the Japanese occupation to the anti-leftist purge in 1965–66 and the dictatorial New Order regime. The novel tells the story of a prostitute, Dewi Ayu, and her four daughters. The leftists in the story are Comrade Salim and Comrade Kliwon, the latter being the husband of Dewi Ayu’s second daughter. Comrade Salim flees after the defeat of the Left in Madiun and seeks refuge at the house of Kliwon’s parents. During his short stay, Salim instructs Kliwon, who is still a child, to embrace the Left. Ironically, Salim’s knowledge about the Left is fuzzy; it is said that “he didn’t understand all that class theory yet, but he was fairly certain that injustice had to be fought in any way DOI: 10.4324/9781003297185-6

86  Surrealist and Realist Novels possible.”3 With his limited knowledge, Salim resorts to violence and teaches Kliwon to do the same, stating that “[i]f someone says he is a communist but has no intention to rebel, don’t believe he’s really a communist,”4 and that “oppressed people only have one tool of resistance: run amok. And if I have to tell you, revolution is nothing more than a collective running amok, organized by one particular party.”5 Salim is executed, but Kliwon takes up the torch and aims to turn the fishermen in the fictitious fishing village of Halimunda into members of the PKI. In doing so, he uproots their culture, replacing it with leftist teachings; for instance, “[a]ll the folk songs had been replaced with Internationale, and all the closing prayers were offered with, “Workers of the world, unite!”6 Despite their apparent idealism, many members of the PKI are however shown to be salacious, as they often hold “raucous celebrations” that involve prostitutes.7 Kliwon in particular is meant to mirror Soekarno, who had a reputation for being an eloquent orator. Kliwon’s speeches accordingly contain messages identical to Soekarno’s that are often criticised by his political opponents as warmongering, as shown in the following passage: Mina sometimes watched her son [Kliwon] giving a speech in front of a mass of thousands, shouting slogans, like “Crush the landlords!” that would be enthusiastically echoed by the crowd. And he cursed not only the landlords, but also money lenders, factory owners, boat captains, plantation officials, and the railway company. Of course, he also cursed America and the Netherlands and neocolonialism, all with such eloquence it was as if God himself was whispering the words into his ear.8 Again, in a portrayal of Soekarno, who put the famous band Koes Plus in prison for playing American rock and roll songs, Kliwon also does the same with the villagers, when, [o]ne day, at the urging of the Communist Party, a group of young kids was thrown into the military prison. They had been having a party at school and all they did wrong was take the stage and sing some rock and roll songs.9 Kliwon increasingly deprives the villagers of their freedom, which is shown as follows: He didn’t stop there, but started putting pressure on the city council, the military, and the police to confiscate those brain-rotting Western pop records and throw whoever listened to them – even in the privacy of their homes – into jail. “Crush America and may its false culture be cursed!” he shouted every time.10

Surrealist and Realist Novels  87 Furthermore, Kliwon takes Salim’s ill-considered advice to organise the villagers to run amok. When the demands of the Fishermen’s Union are not listened to, Kliwon leads them to burn the big ships owned by their richer opponents. The previously simple fishermen, now transformed into aggressive protesters, celebrate at the sight of the burning ships; as described in the novel, “when the three ships exploded in tremendous bursts, the fishermen whooped, shouting, ‘Long live the Fishermen’s Union! Long live the Communist Party! Workers of the world, unite!’”11 Kliwon continues to create troubles at the expense of the fishermen. When the Left is defeated in 1965, he initially manages to stay under the radar. Meanwhile, as often happens under the New Order regime, the government attempts to acquire more village land to be developed, as Halimunda has become a thriving beach resort. It is implied that the villagers would have fared better had they complied, since “[a]t first the local government approached the fishermen, asking politely if they would sell the land, and they gently tried to persuade the kiosk owners to move their kiosks to the new art market that would soon be built.”12 Because of Kliwon’s instructions to resist, however, “the soldiers came, backed up by the preman [thugs], to intimidate the people.”13 Knowing that it is a lost battle but refusing to retreat because of his idealism, even though it means that the villagers are to be sacrificed, Kliwon again resorts to violent measures: He organized a mass demonstration of fishermen and kiosk owners and many others sympathetic to their fate, the biggest demonstration since the collapse of the Communist Party. They blocked the roads against the bulldozers sent to flatten their flimsy kiosks until finally the army came. Comrade Kliwon still stood, leading at the front.14 Since the New Order regime is depicted to be as violent as the Left, the villagers are defeated by force, and Kliwon, identified as a member of the PKI, is shipped to Buru Island. It is also implied, however, that the defeated PKI still proves to be a latent danger, with Kliwon’s rival, Sodancho, saying that “even if he does die, communists always come back to life as ghosts.”15 In the style of magical realism, their ghosts literally return to haunt Sodancho. The English translation of the novel, titled Beauty is a Wound, has been highly praised in Western media, particularly in its treatment of magical realism.16 Kurniawan is often mentioned alongside Pramoedya, with Benedict Anderson claiming that “[i]t is nice that after half a century, Pramoedya Ananta Toer has found a successor.”17 In the report from the 2018 Prince Claus Awards Committee, Kurniawan is praised for his departure from Pramoedya’s social realism, with the entry stating: “Having studied the great Indonesian writer Pramoedya Ananta Toer for his philosophy thesis, Kurniawan turned away from social realism and developed his own innovative style to make sensitive and often traumatic realities accessible and relevant to a wide audience.”

88  Surrealist and Realist Novels Although the novel’s magical realism receives media and academic attention, academic literature on the novel’s portrayal of the Left remains non-existent. Another novel addressing the anti-leftist purge that uses magical realism is Seno Gumira Ajidarma’s Kalatidha (2007). The novel’s title is taken from a Javanese poem titled Serat Kalatidha (Book of Kalatidha, 1860). The Indonesian translation of the poem’s seventh stanza, referring to the age of madness in the feudal period, is duly quoted in the prologue, implying another age of madness, that is, the mass killings of 1965–66.18 The novel also includes a picture, Jacques-Louis David’s painting “The Death of Marat.”19 Since JeanPaul Marat was known as a radical leader during the French Revolution and was blamed for the infamous September Massacre in 1792, with his death claimed to have spurred the Reign of Terror, the inclusion of the painting seems to remind the readers of Indonesia’s political turmoil leading to another reign of terror (the New Order regime). The story is told by a first-person narrator, a bank robber. He is implied to be an unreliable narrator, since he claims to be able to see the world of the dead, with him saying that “[t]he two worlds are for me but the same, because both has merged into one life, and that life is mine.”20 With nothing to do in prison, the narrator reminisces on his childhood in 1965–66. As a schoolboy, he is reprimanded by his teacher for drawing the hammer-and-sickle insignia, with a warning that his father can be “arrested and taken to the teak wood”21 – in other words, executed – implying that, under the New Order regime, anyone can be killed for such trivial offenses. The narrator’s elder sister has been missing, presumably killed for being romantically involved with a member of Lekra and also for being a suspected member of Gerwani. The narrator’s crush, a twin whom he secretly calls “my little girl,” dies with her parents when their house is burned by an angry mob because her father is suspected to be a member of Lekra. The narrator, able to see the dead, can still communicate with her, and her spirit eventually returns to take revenge. The surviving twin, mentally deranged because of the traumatic events, has been admitted to a mental hospital and is regularly raped by an inmate and the staff there. Even as a child, the narrator already disagrees with the brutality of the anti-leftist purge, stating: “Did the arrested people belong to the barbaric ones who murder the generals – if not, why should they be arrested and never return?”22 As an adult, he picks up four tapol, freshly freed from Buru Island, at the train station, and realises that no one among them is a real leftist, but that the anti-leftist purge has ruined their families’ lives. One of them, a simple employee at the HSI, loses his wife, who “swiftly makes herself scarce, erasing her identity as [his] wife.”23 The narrator also speaks for the daughter of Trubus Soedarsono, a famous real-life painter who was active in Lekra, although not necessarily for the missing and likely executed leftist painter himself.24 In his imagination, the girl, born in 1965, is left by her boyfriend for having a leftist father – a fate which is common under the New Order regime’s “Clean Environment” policy. Ajidarma has attracted academic attention for his unique narrative style and for his criticism of the New Order regime, such as the regime’s invasion of East Timor, mentioned

Surrealist and Realist Novels  89 in his seminal novel Jazz, Perfume & the Incident (1996). Despite embracing magical realism in many of his works, Ajidarma is also likened to Pramoedya, with Marshall Clark, for instance, stating that “surrealist writers such as Putu Wijaya, Danarto, and Seno Gumira Ajidarma … were in their own oblique way just as oppositional and political as their realist counterpart, Pramoedya.”25 While it is true that Ajidarma actively speaks against the New Order regime, his novel Kalatidha only speaks for non-leftists individuals, as has been the unwritten norm since 1965. Although not an example of magical realism, Gitanyali’s Blues Merbabu (2011) and its sequel, 65 (2012), can be classified as surrealist literature for their constant discussions of sexuality. Gitanyali is the nom de plume of a writer who also calls himself both Don Sabdono and Bre Redana. He is a contemporary of Ajidarma, and both worked together for Citra, a popular magazine, in 1993.26 The novels are loosely based on the author’s experience, with Gitanyali’s father, being a member of the PKI, missing (and presumed dead) since 1965. Another leftist in the novel is Gitanyali’s uncle, Paklik Darusman, who lives at the house of Gitanyali’s parents. As is common in depictions of leftists, Darusman shows aggressive traits, on which the narrator, Gitanyali, reminisces: “I still remember a few words coming from him, ‘seven village demons’ and ‘kabir’ or ‘bureaucrat capitalists’. They must be ‘crushed’.”27 The leftists in the novel are not open to others, rigidly embracing the “us vs. them” mentality. As Gitanyali observes, “Friends, fellow ‘Comrades’, means cadres. Those who are not friends means they are enemies.”28 Gitanyali himself does not believe in the PKI, saying that “this party is under the illusion that they are fighting for social justice for the people.”29 He admits that he himself is apolitical, as he states: “Politics no, it’s only rock and roll.”30 He also straightforwardly denies that he understands the forbidden ideology, asking, “Is there any trace of Marxism-Leninism in me? I laugh. If I understood that ideology, I would apply to become a lecturer….”31 The focus of the duology is not on the anti-leftist purge or even politics, but how the narrator explores his sexuality, particularly after leaving his town at the foot of Merbabu as well as the stigma of being the son of a member of the PKI. Strong Women and the PKI in Realist Novels This section deals with strong women in realist novels and how they navigate life during the 1960s. Meant by “strong women” is that, instead of obediently doing housewifely duties, these characters strike out on their own to build careers. In Nusya Kuswatin’s Lasmi (2009), the eponymous heroine is the leader of a local branch of Gerwani who is executed during the anti-leftist purge; her story is narrated by her mourning widower, Tikno. Tikno is madly in love with Lasmi, as he always concedes to her unusual demands and contemplates suicide after her death; as such, he is implied to be an unreliable narrator with regards to Lasmi. In his narratives, Lasmi is initially not a leftist, but a wellread woman who devours writings by Soekarno, Kartini, and Pujangga Baru

90  Surrealist and Realist Novels writers. With time, however, she becomes increasingly attracted to the Left under the influence of Sumaryani (Mbak Sum), a fanatic cadre of Gerwani. Sumaryani not only influences uneducated and poor villagers, but also recruits brighter ones like Lasmi to further influence more people. Although, as Tikno says, Lasmi becomes a member of Gerwani only for practical reasons, namely to advance her kindergarten by merging it with Yayasan Melati, a left-leaning institution, she increasingly resembles Mbak Sum.32 Her kindergarten even becomes a political venue. As Tikno describes, “three nameplates adorned her kindergarten’s facade: Melati Kindergarten, Gerwani, BTI.”33 There, Lasmi teaches not only children, but also adults, whom she cajoles to join the BTI and Gerwani. As a result, many villagers, notably farmhands, are now determined to fight the so-called “tujuh setan desa” (“seven village demons”), a nickname that the PKI bestowed on seven different types of village-level exploiters, namely “exploiting landlords, evil middlemen, moneylenders, loan sharks, bureaucrat capitalists, village bandits, and evil rulers.”34 Lasmi tirelessly lectures the villagers against them, inciting simple farmers to turn combatant, as shown, for instance, in the following passage: “They make the poor suffer even more!” Lasmi emphasised. “Long live the farmhands! Long live the farmhands!” Suddenly Sarip shouted. A shout followed in unison by the whole class.35 In class, Lasmi has an equally enthusiastic sidekick, Rihot, and both conspire to incite riots, for instance when Rihot encourages villagers to be increasingly violent toward “setan desa”: “We’ll make a list of synonyms,” shouted Rihot. They started expressing their opinions and synonyms. Shortly afterwards Sarip wrote on the blackboard: crushed, made into snack, eaten, finished off, attacked, mobbed, exterminated, killed, given a lesson, beaten up, conquered, killed off, oppressed, pummelled, hit, purged…36 Since then, demonstrations often take place in the village, where, in front of houses belonging to people categorised as “setan desa,” the protesters shout, “Crush village demons! Crush middlemen! Crush loansharks! Crush landlors! Crush! Crush! Crush!”37 The parades, which obviously intimidate many families in the village, are led by Lasmi.38 As an unreliable narrator, Tikno does not find the parades violent, although, by relating the plea of a village elder who asks him to remind Lasmi and her group to – mildly put – “remain polite,”39 readers get a glimpse of the impropriety of such parades in the eyes of more sensible individuals. Lasmi’s political activities divide the previously peaceful village, since the intimidated people – consisting of the family members of “setan desa” and members of other political parties – retaliate, with both parties, armed with machetes, patrolling every night.40 While the situation is

Surrealist and Realist Novels  91 becoming more volatile, Rihot suggests giving the protesters military training. Being a fanatic Soekarno supporter, his plan is “to anticipate in case they are needed to volunteer during the Indonesia-Malaysia Confrontation or if there is a recruitment for the Fifth Force.”41 Aside from Lasmi’s divisive politics, Soekarno’s war politics against Malaysia and the United States are also given a large portion of the novel. Tikno observes that it starts when, “[i]n January 1963, the radio broadcasted Bung Karno’s rage.”42 Extensively cited is Soekarno’s 1964 speech that shows the President’s enthusiasm in waging war against Malaysia and the United States, described by Tikno as follows: Of late, beside the “Crush Malaysia” campaign, the anti-America movements had started to be heard. In his radio-broadcast Independence Day speech, this year titled “Tahun Vivere Pericoloso” (“The Year of Living Dangerously”), Bung Karno straightforwardly drew connections between the “Crush Malaysia” campaign and the United States.43 Parts where Soekarno insults Malaysia in particular are cited – for instance, when he calls the country “a guard dog of imperialism.”44 Like Lasmi’s warmongering among her neighbours (but in a much larger scale), Soekarno’s verbal attacks on a neighbouring country also have divisive results, as they cause outrage among many Malaysians who, as Tikno reads in the newspaper, “stormed the Embassy of the Republic of Indonesia, tearing up Bung Karno’s portraits, and then asked the Prime Minister to stomp on Indonesia’s symbol, the Garuda Pancasila.”45 Soekarno’s denial of rising inflation is also cited, for instance when he tells the United States to “[g]o to hell with your ‘Indonesia is facing an economic collapse!’ Go to hell! Your psychological warfare does not work! It is for us no more than the yelping of a dog.”46 The novel implies, however, that Soekarno was lying, as Tikno observes that, despite Bung Karno’s speech from Jakarta, which gave the impression of a great sense of confidence from the nation that had been independent for almost two decades, of late Mak Paini had been increasingly making calls to the pawnshop, carrying large, wrapped packages from our village.47 As with Lasmi’s antics, however, Tikno does not find the speech troublesome; on the contrary, he – as well as most of the villagers – greatly admires it. As he says: “It wasn’t just me, Lasmi, and Pak Kerto who were addicted to Bung Karno’s speeches, but generally everyone in the village were just as addicted as we were.”48 When the tables are turned, Tikno, Lasmi, and their son Gong are compelled to live in hiding, while her most fanatical pupils and Rihot, who have been most active in intimidating the villagers, are either dead or missing. Only when Gong falls ill and dies in the run does Lasmi regret being involved

92  Surrealist and Realist Novels with Gerwani.49 Tikno believes, however, that she is among the innocent victims of the anti-leftist purge, stating on their behalf that “they were arrested although they were only the grassroots of the party or simply went with the flow.”50 Despite the troubles Lasmi has created in the village, Tikno thinks that she should not be punished, since she is not involved in the killings of the generals.51 The novel closes with an anti-violence message, although readers can interpret the statement both ways, with Lasmi being seen as either the victim or perpetrator of violence.52 The novel Lasmi is often analysed for its feisty eponymous female protagonists.53 Noorca Massardi wrote on the cover that, politically-speaking, the novel does not take anyone’s side,54 but, as the chapter demonstrates, the novel contains anti-leftist sentiments in its portrayal of the dangers posed by leftists. Lasmi, aiming to educate poor villagers, might have meant well initially, but since becoming a member of Gerwani, she encourages intimidation, promotes violence, and turns the villagers against each other. Tikno’s narrative takes her part, but, since he is an unreliable narrator, readers are invited to make their own judgment about her and whether her punishment is justified. It is implied that Soekarno, who is prominently featured alongside Lasmi in the novel, committed the same mistake by intimidating Malaysia, promoting violence in forming the Fifth Force, and turning his own countrymen against each other. As such, the novel adds to the long list of literary texts that criticise both the Left and Soekarno’s Guided Democracy. Another novel set in 1965 that portrays a strong woman is I Made Iwan Darmawan’s Ayu Manda (2009). Although published after the end of the New Order regime, the novel is still adamant about mentioning the PKI by name. The eponymous heroine is the daughter of a Balinese nobleman. Amidst palace intrigues, conflicts with her father’s many wives, and family traditions, Manda grows into an outstanding dancer, and her dance troupe is invited to tour Europe in 1961. Back home, Manda falls in love with a local youth leader of the PKI, Raka Sidan. As usual, the party is prejudicial toward anyone from an upper-middle class background; for example, a member of the party, Regog, spitefully tells Manda that “in this party, nobles are absolutely disliked.”55 Raka Sidan is a real leftist who supports aggressive land reform. During the anti-leftist purge of 1965–66, he is captured and then executed. Conforming to the grand narrative of the New Order regime, Raka reputedly realises his mistake and accepts being killed, with the antagonist, Manda’s less fortunate half-sister and member of the opposing party, stating to that effect: “Raka has accepted his mistake as an unredeemable karma.”56 Raka himself does not deny this, even admitting having led Manda on for the sake of his politics.57 Although references to the ideological struggles in the 1960s are scarce, with the focus of the novel being the rivalry between Manda and her half-sister Wimba, they consistently portray members of the PKI, such as Regog and Sasih, as embittered and wicked. As the events of 1965 serve mainly as a background in Ayu Manda, scholars analyse the novel, which heavily depicts

Surrealist and Realist Novels  93 Manda’s sexuality, mostly from the perspective of women’s studies, and the subtle anti-leftist sentiments again go unnoticed.58 Ratih Kumala’s Gadis Kretek (Cigarette Girl, 2012), published in the same year as many prominent novels about 1965, also highlights the prominence of women in the world of men. It follows the saga of two families in the town of M (likely Muntilan in Central Java), spanning from the late colonial period to the present day. Idroes Moeria and Soedjagad, the head of each family, start cigarette businesses in their youth. Moeria is initially the more successful of the two, particularly when his elder daughter Dasiyah (Jeng Yah), the titular girl of the novel, is old enough to join the family business. Jeng Yah recruits Soeraja, a poor wanderer, as an overseer. Over time, Jeng Yah falls in love with him and even lets him in on her family’s secret: the recipe of the “sauce” of their signature cigarette. Soeraja’s innocent involvement with the PKI, however, causes the family’s downfall, which the novel describes as follows: Moeria had even given them his blessing. But then Mas Raja got mixed up with the PKI, the Communist party. It was believed that when the PKI was actively recruiting a lot of people, and their propaganda was everywhere, Mas Raja received some money to make a brand of cigarettes for them, a brand that the party would produce and sell.59 Soeraja, thinking that there is nothing wrong in doing business with a political party that is officially acknowledged by the government, names his cigarette brand “Red Sickle,” a name strongly resonating with the Left, which proves problematic after the PKI is declared an enemy of the state by the New Order regime. During the anti-leftist purge, Soeraja flees, but everyone who has any relationship with him is arrested, since the army “didn’t just rummage through the PKI headquarters, they also captured people who were somehow involved with or had links with the party.”60 For instance, even the owner of the printing press that produces the Red Sicke cigarette labels is arrested.61 Those who suffer the most in the crackdown are Moeria’s family: “[Jeng Yah] was arrested because of her romantic relationship with Soeraja, and her father was arrested for giving his blessings to Jeng Yah’s relationship with a Communist.”62 Moeria’s torture under the army’s custody is depicted as exceptionally unfair; as his younger daughter explains, he is accused of being a communist sympathiser only because his cigarette brand, Merdeka [lit. Independence], used red paper – red like blood, red like the colour that dominated all the PKI propaganda. … [t]he colour that was now associated with the PKI party and the blood of the murdered generals, who were believed to be victims of an attempted Communist coup.63 It is further explained that the colour choice has nothing to do with the PKI, as “[t]he red color they had chosen for the paper was taken from the national

94  Surrealist and Realist Novels flag, the Red and White, and it symbolized courage.”64 After his release, the family business folds, although, as everyone in M is aware of, “[Moeria] had no relationship to any political party whatsoever.”65 Gadis Kretek was shortlisted for the prestigious Khatulistiwa literary award in 2012 and has since been translated into English and German. As is befitting of a romance novel, the anti-leftist purge serves rather as a background that explains Moeria’s downfall, with the biggest plot twist being Soeraja’s betrayal of Jeng Yah by marrying Soedjagad’s daughter and using Moeria’s secret recipe to build a new business empire with Moeria’s arch rival. The New Order regime’s “Clean Environment” policy, targetting everyone with any connection to the PKI, is indeed suitable for explaining one’s sudden reversal of fortune in the second half of the 1960s, but discussions about the political turmoil of that period are not given a large portion in the novel. Although the novel received academic attention, it has largely been for its reconstruction of the image of a strong woman rather than for its addressing of the anti-leftist purge.66 Conclusion For readers who are familiar with Indonesia’s political situation in the 1960s, the plot surrounding 1965 can serve as a reminder of the discriminatory “Clean Environment” policy, but as usual, the “Clean Self” policy is not addressed. Both in magical realist novels (Utami’s Larung, Kurniawan’s Cantik Itu Luka, Ajidarma’s Kalatidha) and realist ones (Kuswatin’s Lasmi, Darmawan’s Ayu Manda, Kumala’s Gadis Kretek, Gitanyali’s Blues Merbabu and 65), the Left is portrayed in a negative light, implying between the lines that the “Clean Self” policy was not entirely unreasonable. The novels were well received, with Kurniawan and Ajidarma, despite using magical realism, likened to left-leaning Pramoedya, who championed social realism and rejected avantgarde literature. This chapter concludes that mainstream post-authoritarian novels still continually contain anti-leftist grand narrative, suggesting that the Red Scare is still well-maintained in post-authoritarian Indonesia. The fact that these novels were written by authors who were not yet born or were only a child in 1965, and yet their portrayal of the Left is based on the New Order regime’s official history, suggests an inter-generational trauma that prevents new writers from explicitly and critically engaging with the topic of the antileftist purge in their writings. Notes 1 Birutè Ciplijauskaitè, “Social and Magic Realism: Veiling or Unveiling?” Journal of Baltic Studies 10, no. 3 (Fall 1979): 218. 2 “Tak ada pahlawan di sini. Yang ada hanya pemenang dan pecundang. Sebab siapa pun yang menang – ABRI, komunis, angkatan kelima, siapapun dengan ideologi apapun – akan melakukan kekejaman yang sama terhadap lawannya.” Ayu Utami, Larung (Jakarta: Gramedia, 2001), 253.

Surrealist and Realist Novels  95 3 Eka Kurniawan, Beauty Is a Wound, trans. Annie Tucker (New York: New Direction Books, 2002), 177. 4 Ibid., 172. 5 Ibid., 175. 6 Ibid., 272. 7 Ibid., 253. 8 Ibid., 297. 9 Ibid. 10 Ibid. 11 Ibid. 289. 12 Ibid., 354. 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid. 15 Ibid., 355. 16 See: John Domini, “Beauty Is a Wound by Eka Kurniawan,” The Chicago Tribune, December 3, 2015; Gillian Terzis, “A Writer’s Haunting Trip Through the Horrors of Indonesian History,” The New Yorker, October 2, 2015; Sarah Lyall, “‘Beauty Is a Wound,’ an Indonesian Blend of History, Myth and Magic,” The New York Times, September 17, 2015. See also: Marco Ramírez Rojas, “Beauty Is a Wound: Retelling Modern Indonesian History Through Magical Realism,” in Jie Lu and Martín Camps (eds.), Transpacific Literary and Cultural Connections: Latin American Influence in Asia (Cham: Springer Nature, 2020), 187–208. 17 Yuliasri Perdani, “Eka Kurniawan: Pramoedya’s Successor and Antithesis.” The Jakarta Post, September 7, 2015. 18 Seno Gumira Ajidarma, Kalatidha (Jakarta: Gramedia, 2007), v. 19 Ibid., 105. 20 “Dua dunia bagiku satu saja laiknya, karena keduanya menjadi satu kehidupan, dan itu adalah kehidupanku.” Ibid., 31. 21 “[N]anti bapakmu ditangkap dan dibawa ke hutan jati itu.” Ibid., 44. 22 “Apakah orang-orang yang diciduk selama ini termasuk manusia-manusia biadab yang membunuh para jenderal itu – jika tidak, mengapa harus diciduk dan tidak pernah kembali?” Ibid., 42. 23 Ibid., 64. 24 The narrator makes clear that “[s]omehow I’m not thinking about Mrs. Trubus, or Mr. Trubus, who has vanished – what I’m thinking about is the new born child” [“Entah kenapa yang kupikirkan bukanlah Nyonya Trubus, atau Tuan Trubus yang hilang tak tentu rimba – yang kupikirkan justru anak yang dilahirkan itu”]. Ibid., 157. 25 Marshall Clark, “Shadow Boxing: Indonesian Writers and the Ramayana in the New Order,” Indonesia 72 (October 2011), 165. 26 Andrew Füller, Jakarta Flanerie: Selected Writings of Seno Gumira Ajidarma, PhD diss., University of Tasmania, 2010, 58. 27 “Darinya aku masih ingat beberapa kata, yaitu “tujuh setan desa” dan ‘kabir’ alias ‘kapitalis birokrat’. Mereka harus ‘diganyang’.” Gitanyali, Blues Merbabu (Jakarta: Gramedia, 2011), 17. 28 “Kawan, sesama ‘Bung’, berarti sesame kader. Yang bukan kawan berarti lawan.” Ibid., 27. 29 “[P]artai ini berilusi memperjuangkan kesetaraan penuh bagi rakyat.” Ibid., 203. 30 Gitanyali, 65 (Jakarta: Gramedia, 2012), 4. The cited phrase is originally in English. 31 “[A]dakah jejak Marxisme-Leninisme dalam diriku? Aku tertawa. Kalau aku paham ideologi tersebut, aku akan melamar jadi dosen…” Ibid. 32 “Lasmi increasingly resembled Mbak Sum … Obviously this was thanks to a series of trainings she had attended as a cadre of Gerwani” [“Lasmi jadi semakin mirip

96  Surrealist and Realist Novels Mbak Sum … Tentulah ini berkat serangkaian training yang telah diikutinya sebagai kader Gerwani”]. Ibid., 83. 33 “Di depan taman kanak-kanaknya kini ada tiga papan nama berjajar: TK Melati, Gerwani, BTI.” Ibid., 103. 34 “Tujuh Setan Desa itu terdiri dari tuan tanah penghisap, lintah darah, tukang ijon, kapitalis birokrat alias kabir, tengkulak jahat, bandit desa, dan penguasa jahat.” Ibid., 85. 35 “Merekalah yang menyebabkan rakyat miskin semakin sengsara nasibnya!” tandas Lasmi. “Hidup buruh tani! Hidup buruh tani!” Mendadak sontak Sarip berteriak. Teriakan yang diikuti secara serempak oleh seluruh kelas.” Ibid., 85. 36 “Kita buat daftar padanan katanya,” kata Rihot lantang. Mereka saling melontarkan pendapat dan istilah. Tak lama kemudian Sarip menuliskan di papan tulis: diganyang, digado, dimakan, disikat, diserang, diserbu, dihabisi, dibunuh, diberi pelajaran, dihajar, dibuat tak berkutik, dipukul, dimatikan, digencet, dibogem, dihantam, dibasmi…” Ibid., 96. 37 “Ganyang setan desa! Ganyang tukang ijon! Ganyang lintah darat! Ganyang tuan tanah kecirit! Ganyang! Ganyang! Ganyang!” Ibid., 99. 38 As Tikno relates, “Laksmi led the parade, whereas Gong and I stood outside in the crowd” [“Lasmi ikut memimpin pawai itu, sementara aku dan Gong mengikuti di luar barisan bersama penonton”]. Ibid., 101. 39 Tikno naively believes that “[t]here was no violence in that parade, but that event seemed to have upset the village elders. The day after, the village head whom we called Pak Lurah called on me at school. He asked me to remind the protesters not to overstep the mark and to remain polite” [“Tidak ada kekerasan dalam aksi tersebut, namun peristiwa itu tampaknya menggusarkan para tetua desa. Keesokan harinya kepala desa yang kami panggil dengan sebutan Pak Lurah mendatangiku di sekolah tempatku mengajar. Ia meminta tolong agar aku mengingatkan para pemrotes supaya mereka tetap menjaga diri untuk tidak bertindak di luar batas dan tetap menjaga kesopanan”]. Ibid. 40 “As the protesters, they also armed themselves with machetes and sharp weapons. They keep watch every night” [“Sebagaimana para pemrotes, mereka juga mempersenjatai diri dengan kelewang dan senjata tajam. Mereka berjaga-jaga tiap malam”]. Ibid., 103. 41 “Untuk mengantisipasi apabila mereka dibutuhkan sebagai sukarelawan untuk mendukung konfrontasi dengan Malaysia atau bila ada perekrutan anggota Angkatan Kelima.” Ibid., 122. 42 “Bulan Januari tahun 1963 radio menyiarkan berita tentang kegusaran Bung Karno.” Ibid., 76. 43 “Akhir-akhir ini, selain ganyang Malaysia, mulai gencar terdengar aerakan AntiAmerika. Dalam pidato amanat Presiden pada 17 Agustus 1964 kali ini, yang diberi judul “Tahun Vivere Pericoloso” yang disiarkan melalui radio, Bung Karno dengan lantang menyinggung kaitan antara aksi Ganyang Malaysia dan Amerika Serikat.” Ibid., 104–105. 44 “Malaysia masih membentang di muka rumah Republik Indonesia sebagai anjing penjaga imperialisme.” Ibid., 112. 45 “Para demonstran menyerbu Kedutaan Besar Republik Indonesia, merobek-robek foto Bung Karno, dan kemudian mendatangi Perdana Menteri Malaysia untuk meminta Perdana Menteri menginjak-injak lambang negara Republik Indonesia Garuda Pancasila.” Ibid., 77. 46 “Go to hell dengan omonganmu bahwa Indonesia akan binasa ekonomis! Go to hell! Psywar-mu tidak mempan! Psywar-mu kami anggap gonggongan anjing!” Ibid., 114. 47 “Lepas dari pidato Bung Karno yang diucapkan dari Jakarta mengesankan rasa percaya diri yang besar dari bangsa yang hampir genap dua dekade merdeka.

Surrealist and Realist Novels  97 Akhir-akhir ini dari desa kami Mak Paini makin sering turun ke pegadaian dengan menjinjing bungkusan kain yang agak besar.” Ibid., 116. 48 “Tak hanya diriku, Lasmi dan Pak Kerto yang keranjingan mendengarkan pidato Bung Karno, orang desa pada umumnya sama keranjingannya dengan kami.” Ibid., 115. 49 “Gong’s death makes me regret my activities as the leader of Gerwani in our village that leads to my being a fugitive and the enemy of the people” [“[M]eninggalnya Gong telah membuatku menyesali segala aktivitasku sebagai Ketua Gerwani desa kita yang menyebabkan aku jadi buronan dan jadi musuh sebagian masyarakat”]. Ibid., 210. 50 “Mereka ikut-ikutan diciduk kendati mereka hanya anggota pupuk bawang atau yang cuma anut grubyuk saja.” Ibid., 212. 51 “Was it the right thing to do – to balance out the death of the six generals with the massacre of many civilians that know nothing about what transpired at the Crocodile’s Pit?” [“Apakah merupakan langkah yang benar mengimbangi kematian enam orang jenderal dengan pembantaian sekian banyak masyarakat sipil yang tidak tahu-menahu tentang peristiwa Lubang buaya?”]. Ibid., 216. 52 “Although nuanced with violence, Lasmi is expected to become a kind of antiviolence efforts: So that – for whatever reason – mass violence that insults common sense and sacrifices people’s innocence will not happen again in this country” [“Sungguhpun bernuansa kekerasan, Lasmi diharapkan bisa menjadi semacam upaya anti-kekerasan: Agar – demi alasan apapun – kekerasan massal yang melecehkan akal sehat dan mengorbankan kenaifan warga tidak lagi terjadi di negeri ini”]. Ibid., 231. 53 See: Pamela Allen, “Sexuality, Politics, and Loss of Innocence: Recent Literary Explorations,” in Linda Rae Bennett and Sharyn Graham Davies (eds.), Sex and Sexualities in Contemporary Indonesia: Sexual Politics, Health, Diversity and Representations (London and New York: Routledge, 2015), 293–306; Anang Santosa, “Posisi Perempuan Dalam Tempurung dan Ayu Manda [Female Position in Tempurung and Ayu Manda].” Atavisme 16, no. 2 (November 2013): 229–245. 54 “A fragment in Indonesia’s black history written intensively, descriptively, and neutrally” [“Sebuah fragmen dalam sejarah hitam Indonesia yang ditulis dengan sangat intens, deskriptif, dan tidak memihak”]. 55 I Made Iwan Darmawan, Ayu Manda (Jakarta: Grasindo, 2010), 235. 56 “Raka sudah menerima kesalahannya sebagai sebuah karma tidak terampunkan…” Ibid., 312. 57 “I kept misleading you in the name of love for things you don’t understand” [“Terus menerus aku membutakanmu atas kata cinta, demi hal yang kamu tidak pahami”]. Ibid., 320. 58 Pamela Allen, analysing both Lasmi and Ayu Manda, argues that both novels “challenge conventional constructions of female sexuality in Indonesia.” Pamela Allen, “Sexuality, Politics, and Loss of Innocence,” 304. See also: Anang Santosa, “Posisi Perempuan Dalam Tempurung dan Ayu Manda [Female Position in Tempurung and Ayu Manda],” Atavisme 16, no. 2 (November 2013): 229–245. 9 Ratih Kumala, Cigarette Girl, trans. Annie Tucker (Jakarta: Gramedia, 2015), 227. 5 0 Ibid., 199. 6 61 “They stormed the press where the PKI ordered the printing of their propaganda material, and this was the same press where the Red Sickle cigarette labels were printed.” Ibid. 2 Ibid. 6 3 Ibid., 227. 6 4 Ibid., 203. 6 5 Ibid., 227. 6

98  Surrealist and Realist Novels 66 See: Faidah Yusuf and Muh. Iskandar Susilo, “Existentialist Feminism of Woman’s Struggle in Cigarette Girl.” Ideas 8, no. 1 (2020): 67–79; Suhendra et al., “Image of Women in Gadis Kretek Novel by Ratih Kumala Based on Feminism Perspective.” Journal of Humanities and Social Studies 5, no. 1 (2021): 77–79. Writer Djenar Maesa Ayu wrote in the novel’s endorsement page that “Ratih’s Kumala’s novel Gadis Kretek show the power of women in the world that people think belong to men, in this case the business world and the cigarette world” [“Novel Gadis Kretek karya Ratih Kumala menunjukkan kekuatan perempuan atas dunia yang dipikir hanya dikuasai oleh laki-laki; dalam hal ini dunia bisnis dan kretek itu sendiri”]. Ratih Kumala, Gadis Kretek (Jakarta: Gramedia, 2012), 277.

7 Conclusion The Legacy of the Red Scare in Indonesia

The aim of this study is to describe the changes in the content of contemporary Indonesian literature after the defeat of the Left in the country. As has been demonstrated in this study, many literary texts produced in Indonesia after 1965 show the legacy of the Cold War by continually expressing criticisms of the Left. The investigation began with the analysis of short stories that were published in the anti-leftist magazines Sastra and Horison in the first decade of the New Order regime. In the selected short stories, there is an obvious attempt to define who does not deserve to be killed and who does, with members of the PKI always classified as the latter. The short stories disagree with the regime’s “Clean Environment” policy that targeted the “innocent” families of leftists, earning them praise for evoking humanitarian spirit, but they condone the “Clean Self” policy that targeted leftists. This pattern is to be found repeatedly in literary productions that follow the publication of these anti-leftist short stories even to the present day. Umar Kayam’s short stories, in particular, serve as a blueprint for mainstream Indonesian novels about 1965 that express criticisms of the Left. For instance, the targets of leftist campaigns, such as landlords, are depicted as generous in literature, thus implying that their persecution in the hands of leftists is uncalled for, and such landlords can be found for the first time in Kayam’s “Sri Sumarah” (1975). Pak Mohammad, the landlord in the story, indeed takes over the protagonist’s rice field, but he has given her a lot of time to settle her debts and is extremely reluctant in eventually acquiring her land, not to mention that she pawns said land only to finance a lavish party to begin with. The landlord in Ahmad Tohari’s Kubah (1980), Haji Bakir, similarly takes over the rice field from the protagonist’s father only with the greatest reluctance, and the haji continues providing financial assistance for the impoverished family. Like in Sri Sumarah, the loss of the rice field in Kubah can only be attributed to the owner’s own fault, because the original owner, a priyayi, is too proud to work the land like a farm labourer in the first place, and thus he forces the landlord to exchange it for rice. Another landlord in the novel also regularly distributes alms to the poor. In Lasmi (2009), the eponymous heroine, an enthusiastic cadre of the PKI, instructs her gang of DOI: 10.4324/9781003297185-7

100  Conclusion: The Legacy of the Red Scare in Indonesia converted farmhands to terrorise local landlords who never cause trouble in their formerly harmonious village. Considering the generosity of these fictitious landlords, who nevertheless fall victim to the PKI, the texts imply the danger of leftist teachings that prey on anyone rich. Another obvious pattern in the selected texts is the naivety of certain individuals that turns them into an easy prey for the PKI’s manipulation, which is shown for the first time in Kayam’s “Musim Gugur di Connecticut” (1969) and “Bawuk” (1970). Echoing Tono’s fate in “Musim Gugur di Connecticut” almost to the letter, the protagonist in Ajip Rosidi’s Anak Tanah Air (1985), Ardi, is gradually manipulated by committed leftists into supporting their political propaganda through arts; he eventually has an epiphany, but is likely killed, as, on paper, he is still a member of Lekra by the time leftists are being hunted down. In “Bawuk,” the eponymous heroine often plays with her family’s servants during childhood, making her more sympathetic to the less fortunate, but whose sympathy is later used by her leftist husband to steer her towards the Left. The same happens to Hari, the protagonist in Kayam’s Para Priyayi (1991), who enjoys playing with kampong children as a child and ends up being manipulated by his leftist girlfriend. These fictitious characters – Tono, Bawuk, Ardi, and Hari – are either lonely or weak-minded, and thus they are easily manoeuvred to help the PKI’s cause. After they face persecution for their involvement with the PKI, they eventually realise the viciousness of the party and condemn their leftist teachings. Another clear pattern in mainstream post-1965 literary texts is the persecution of a cosmopolitan individual who is mistaken for a leftist, as depicted for the first time in Kayam’s “Musim Gugur di Connecticut” (1969). Tono, the cosmopolitan in the story, portrays a liberal-minded character that goes on to become a blueprint for the figure of an open-minded, yet persecuted, intellectual in sastra serius (lit. serious literature). Well-read in the literature of the Left, Tono spends a period with Lekra out of loneliness, but has an epiphany and eventually settles for liberal arts. Ardi, the artist in Anak Tanah Air, similarly renounces Lekra and realises the superiority of liberal arts to social realism. This is also the case with the artistically minded protagonists in Laksmi Pamuntjak’s Amba (2012) and Leila Chudori’s Pulang (2012). The five fictitious cosmopolitans in these texts – Tono, Ardi, Amba, Bhisma, and Dimas – duly embrace “Art for Art’s Sake” following their epiphany and reject Lekra’s motto of “Art for People’s Sake,” which is depicted to be aggressively limiting artistic freedom. Another obvious coherence of theme in many post-1965 literary texts is the negative portrayal of the Left. Short stories discussed in Chapter 2 highlight the reasons why members of the PKI deserve to be killed, namely because of the danger they pose to society. For instance, the leftist in Satyagraha Hoerip’s “Pada Titik Kulminasi” (1966) bullies his brother-in-law, who has helped him in the past, for refusing to embrace social realism. The leftist in Gerson Poyk’s “Perempuan dan Anak-Anaknya” (1966) is a hypocrite who steals from

Conclusion: The Legacy of the Red Scare in Indonesia  101 the people and puts his enemies in prison without a fair trial. The leftists in Zulidahlan’s “Maka Sempurnalah Penderitaan Saya di Muka Bumi” (1967) kill their fellow villagers for embracing Islam instead of their ideology. In a similar vein, the leftist in H. G. Ugati’s “Ancaman” (1969) terrorises the villagers for not believing in the Left. Umar Kayam, in particular, had a long and productive career in writing anti-leftist literary texts that portray members of the PKI as vicious people. His seminal “Musim Gugur di Connecticut” (1969) depicts members of Lekra who manipulate an artist to use his skills to aid their political propaganda. His “Bawuk” (1970) portrays a warmongering leftist who irresponsibly goads local farmers to run riot, and then leaves them to fend for themselves when the army is sent to quell down said riot. His “Sri Sumarah” (1975) similarly depicts an antagonist who goads villagers to resort to violence and to “crush” innocent landlords. Meanwhile, his “Kimono Biru Buat Istri” (1974) portrays leftist students who aggressively bully their lecturer for daring to question Soekarno’s war policies. Chapter 3 focuses on popular novels that also portray leftists in a negative light. Ahmad Tohari’s Kubah (1979) and Ajip Rosidi’s Anak Tanah Air (1985) depict members of the PKI who slyly manipulate youths into becoming cadres and shunning religions. In Kubah, leftists also goad villagers to embrace what is considered haram and openly conduct extramarital affairs. Yudhistira Massardi’s Mencoba Tidak Menyerah (1979) depicts unruly parades led by leftists, who also deliver unprovoked insults on Muslims during said parades. Ashadi Siregar’s Jentera Lepas (1979) depicts aggressive leftist students as well as an irresponsible leftist who abandons his wife to fight against Malaysia following Soekarno’s war campaigns. N. H. Dini’s Jalan Bandungan (1989) also depicts an irresponsible husband who, being a member of the PKI, detests the priyayi (gentry) and approves the proposal to kill them, with his wife raising the possibility that he might also have approved the killing of her parents only because they belong to said class. Chapter 4 discusses novels that adapt wayang stories and similarly criticise the Left. Umar Kayam’s Para Priyayi (1992) not only portrays leftists as callous people, but also mentions that left-wing politics has been the cause of many deaths around the world. Mangunwijaya’s Durga Umayi (1991) is exceptionally mild in its criticism of the Left, showing that the PKI originally means well, but that the party becomes increasingly tyrannical in order to achieve their goals. Pipit Rochijat’s Baratayuda di Negeri Antah Berantah (1993) depicts members of the PKI as demons in hell who are incapable of repenting and who pose a latent danger to society, as they eventually return to earth and start corrupting the lazy poor all over again. Laksmi Pamuntjak’s Amba (2012), a post-authoritarian novel whose criticism of the Left is one of the mildest, shows the lack of artistic freedom under Lekra’s ascendancy. Leila Chudori’s Pulang (2012) echoes Amba in its depiction on how leftleaning artists limit artistic freedom. At the same time, the novel also depicts a leftist who is subversive and unfaithful to his wife. Chapter 5 discusses post-­ authoritarian short stories that were mostly being written by alleged leftists. While

102  Conclusion: The Legacy of the Red Scare in Indonesia most of the texts focus their criticism on the New Order regime, a few, such as Sobron Aidit’s “Habis Kontrak” (1993) and Astama’s “Ooh Lala” (2004), criticise the Left by showing the failure of communism in Mao’s China and East Germany, respectively, with “Ooh Lala” claiming that communists everywhere are murderous. Chapter 6 discusses realist and surrealist novels from the post-authoritarian period that address the anti-leftist purge, where leftists are shown in a negative light as well. In Eka Kurniawan’s Cantik Itu Luka (2002), for instance, leftists always resort to violence, with one of them goading simple fishermen to run riot and harassing people who embrace different ideologies, while in Nusya Kuswatin’s Lasmi (2009), leftists also turn simple villagers into rioting thugs who wreak havoc on the village. Both Soekarno’s socialist government and Soeharto’s authoritarian New Order regime are depicted to be equally oppressive in many of these novels. In Umar Kayam’s “Kimono Biru Buat Istri” (1974) and Ashadi Siregar’s Jentera Lepas (1979), lecturers and students who do not support Soekarno’s war policies in the Indonesia-Malaysia Confrontation are discriminated or fired from their university. Umar Kayam’s Para Priyayi (1992) portrays Soekarno’s government as a particularly oppressive one. Soekarno’s Guided Democracy is also heavily criticised in Laksmi Pamuntjak’s Amba (2012), with its foreign policy shown to be the cause why the United States and the NGOs withdrew their much-needed assistance from Indonesia. Astama’s “Ooh Lala” (2004) criticises Soekarno for giving place to communism in Indonesia, while Eka Kurniawan’s Cantik itu Luka (2002) and Nusya Kuswatin’s Lasmi (2009) paint Soekarno as a warmongering president. The New Order regime is also systematically criticised for its massive corruption and for the suffering of the anti-leftist purge’s “innocent victims,” with post-authoritarian literary texts expressing their criticisms openly. The short stories in Chapter 2 are praised for evoking humanitarian spirit, as they speak for widows and young children who fall victim to the regime’s “Clean Environment” policy. The popular novels in Chapter 3 are similarly praised for encouraging generosity toward the manipulated and wrongly accused individuals when the New Order regime was still at the peak of its powers. The wayang novels in Chapter 4 echo the gist of the popular novels discussed in Chapter 3, with Amba dan Pulang, published only two months apart in the post-authoritarian period, criticising the “us vs. them” mentality that has been encouraged by the oppressive New Order regime and that has caused unnecessary suffering to open-minded, cosmopolitan individuals who refuse to abide by black and white thinking. The short stories in Chapter 5, written by alleged leftists, unanimously condemn the regime for various human rights violations. In a similar vein, the realist and surrealist novels in Chapter 6 show the brutality of the New Order regime toward innocents. These texts do not go beyond criticising the regime, however, and avoid discussing the Cold War. Literary texts produced in Indonesia after 1965 have thus the following similarities: they criticise the Left, Soekarno’s Guided Democracy, and Soeharto’s

Conclusion: The Legacy of the Red Scare in Indonesia  103 New Order regime. Most of the selected texts were either translated into English or promoted by the Lontar Foundation, a non-profit organisation that was founded in 1987 by local scholars known for their attachment to liberal arts and for their opposition to Lekra in the 1960s, such as Goenawan Mohamad and Umar Kayam. In other words, the direction of modern Indonesian literature after 1965 has been guided by the same figures who in the 1960s promoted the ideological values that swept aside their leftist opposition from the cultural stage. These literary texts unanimously convey that the Left is dangerous, suggesting that contemporary Indonesian literature still represents one ideological stream, with younger writers criticising the New Order regime, which was obviously corrupt and excessively brutal in reinforcing the anti-leftist pogrom, but still basing their portrayal of the Left on the regime’s official history. Self-censorship adds to the complexities into the study of literature’s role in reinforcing the anti-leftist grand narrative even to this day. Given the fact that post-1965 Indonesian literature still strongly reflects the legacy of the Cold War, this book concludes that the Red Scare has created a blueprint which cannot easily be eradicated from modern Indonesian literature.

Index

Note: Page numbers followed by “n” denote endnotes. abangan 72 Adam, Asvi Warman 12n37, 18 Aidit, Asahan Alham 78; “Halimah” 74–75 Aidit, D. N. 78 Aidit, Sobron 78; “Habis Kontrak” 102; “Naturalization” 75; “Termination of Contract” 75 Ajidarma, Seno Gumira 9, 80n2, 94; Jazz, Perfume & the Incident 89; Kalatidha 88; “Segitiga Emas” 67n45 Aku Bukan Komunis (Massardi) 37, 44n5; see also Mencoba Tidak Menyerah Aku Eks Tapol (Setiawan) 72 Aleida, Martin 78; “Tanah Air” 75–76, 79 Ali and Nino (Said) 16n59 Allen, Pamela 43n1, 61, 63 Amba (Pamuntjak) 7, 33, 52, 55, 58, 62, 63, 73, 81n27, 100–102 Anak Tanah Air (Rosidi) 33–37, 43, 44n4, 44n5, 100, 101 “Ancaman” (Ugati) 21, 30n20, 101 Anderson, Amanda 7 Anderson, Benedict 4; A Preliminary Analysis of the October 1, 1965, Coup in Indonesia 2 anti-communist massacre 4 Anti-Corruption Manifesto 41 anti-leftist 9n1; grand narrative 2–4; literary texts 101; sentiments 35 anti-leftist grand narrative 2–4, 7, 8, 35, 41, 43, 80, 94, 103 anti-leftist novels: for children 37–39; for women 39–43

anti-leftist purge 22, 55, 58, 60, 63, 85, 88, 92; “innocent victims” of 33; victims of 73 anti-PKI: demonstrations 28n4; sentiments 27 anti-PKI short stories 32n50; in Gestapu (1966–69) 17–21 anti-Soekarno: demonstration 78; sentiments 23 Anwar, Chairil 78 Anwar, Dewi Fortuna 4 Apin, Rivai 78 Armed Forces History Centre 1 “Arrogance” (Pramoedya) 76, 79 “Art for Art’s Sake” 36, 100 “Art for People’s Sake” 47n51, 59, 61, 63, 79, 100 Art in Indonesia (Holt) 64n4 Astama: “Ooh Lala” 77, 102 Atmowiloto, Arswendo 30n30 Aveling, Harry 32n50, 52; Fall in Connecticut 22, 24; Gestapu: Indonesian Short Stories on the Abortive Communist Coup of 30th September 1965 7, 17–21, 28n2; Sri Sumarah and Other Stories 22, 25; From Surabaya to Armageddon: Indonesian Short Stories 22, 24 Ayu Manda (Darmawan) 92–93 Bachri, Sutardji Calzoum 30n30 Balai Pustaka 52 Balfas, M. 28n1 Baratayuda di Negeri Antah Berantah (Rochijat) 58, 67n54, 101 “Bawuk” (Kayam) 24–25, 27, 100, 101

106 Index Beise, Kerstin 12n37 “Between the Bars” (Hersri) 72 Bevins, Vincent 5, 13n44 Bhabha, Homi: The Location of Culture 14n51 Blues Merbabu (Gitanyali) 89 Brackman, Arnold: The Communist Collapse in Indonesia 18 Brecht, Berthold 68n71 Brennan, Timothy: Cosmopolitan Now: At Home in the World 14n51 Budiman, Arief 28n1, 51, 52, 64n12 Burung-Burung Manyar (Mangunwijaya) 52, 53–55, 66n33 Cantik Itu Luka (Kurniawan) 85–88, 102 capitalism 6, 55, 77 Celah (Sukanta) 70 Cheah, Pheng: Cosmopolitics: Thinking and Feeling Beyond the Nation 14n50 children, anti-leftist novel for 37–39 Christanty, Linda 44n3 Chudori, Leila: Pulang 7, 30n20, 33, 55, 58, 60–63, 78, 81n27, 100–102 CIA-funded Committee for Cultural Freedom (CCF) 5 Clark, Marshall 67n54, 89 “Clean Environment” policy 3, 21, 38, 43, 62, 63, 73, 88, 94, 99; “Clean Self ” vs. 33 “Clean Self” policy 3, 27, 42, 94, 99; vs. “Clean Eenvironment” policy 33 “commie schools” 70 communism 75, 77, 79, 80 communist cadres, in literature 33–37 The Communist Collapse in Indonesia (Brackman) 18 Communist-Marxist-Leninist ideology 2 Communist Party of Indonesia 2 ‘Communist threat’ 5 Communist Uprising (1948) 57 contemporary Indonesian literature, wayang novels in 51–52 Conversi, Daniele 13n49 corruption 56, 62, 63, 74, 77 corruption-prone mentality 62 cosmopolitanism 14n51; redefinition of 6–9 Cosmopolitan Now: At Home in the World (Brennan) 14n51

cosmopolitan values 74–79 Cosmopolitics: Thinking and Feeling Beyond the Nation (Cheah) 14n50 The Coup Attempt of the “September 30 Movement” in Indonesia 2 crimes, against humanity 5 Crouch, Harold 4 “Crush Malaysia” 39 Cultural Revolution 61 Culture, Power, and Authoritarianism in the Indonesian State (Jones) 31n48, 31n49 Damono, Sapardi Djoko 38, 47n51 The Dancer 73, 81n27 Dante Alighieri: Monarchy 13n49 Darmawan, I Made Iwan: Ayu Manda 92–93 David, Bettina 44n3 David, Jacques-Louis: “The Death of Marat” 88 decolonisation process 64n15 Deep Vellum Publishing 61 Delanty, Gerard 14–15n51 Derwanto, Nirwan 30n30 Dini, N. H. 44n6; Jalan Bandungan 39, 41–43, 101 The Divided West (Habermas) 14n50 Durga Umayi (Mangunwijaya) 54, 55, 101 Eastern bloc 6, 75 East German Communist Party 77 Eickhoff, Martijn 5 Elison, Eddi 28n10 End of Soekarno: A Coup that Misfired: A Purge that Ran Wild (Hughes) 2, 10n8 European education 71 Extraordinary Military Tribunal 10n8 “failed coup”: official version of 1–2; other version of 4–6 Fall in Connecticut (Aveling) 22, 24 Fine, Robert 14n50 Fireflies in Manhattan (Kayam) 31n32 Flanagan, Patrick 4 “Fleeting Memories” (Ibrahim) 74 The Forgotten Massacre (Jørgensen) 13n48 Foulcher, Keith 35, 38, 44n4, 70 40 Hari Kegagalan ‘G30S’: 1 Oktober-10 November 1965 (Notosusanto) 1

Index  107 Frankel, Max 9n6 Frankfurt Book Fair (2015) 62–63, 73, 81n27 “Free Fall” (Siagian) 74 French Revolution 88 From Surabaya to Armageddon: Indonesian Short Stories (Aveling) 22, 24 The Fugitive 52–53 Gadis Kretek (Kumala) 93–94 Geertz, Clifford 63n3 Gerakan Wanita Indonesia 37 Gestapu: Indonesian Short Stories on the Abortive Communist Coup of 30th September 1965 (Aveling) 7, 17–21, 28n2 Gitanyali: Blues Merbabu 89 grand narrative 21, 33, 38, 74; antileftist 2–4, 7, 8, 35, 41, 43, 80, 94, 103; of the ‘Communist threat’ 5; of New Order regime 17, 21, 27, 37, 92; wayang novels in 50–51 Habermas, Jürgen: The Divided West 14n50 “Habis Kontrak” (Sobron Aidit) 102 Hakim, Arief Rachman 78, 82n55 “Halimah” (Asahan Aidit) 74–75 Hamid, Chalik: “With Tears in Her Eyes” 74 Hanafi, Taufiq: Writing Novels Under the New Order: State Censorship, Complicity, and Literary Production in Indonesia, 1977– 1986 44n5 Hannerz, Ulf 14n50 Held, David 14n50 Herlambang, Wijaya 5, 7, 15n52, 15n57 Herman, Edward S. 6 Heryanto, Ariel 5, 12n36, 51, 52, 64n14, 68n54, 69n97; State Terrorism and Political Identity in Indonesia: Fatally Belonging 11n24 Himpunan Sarjana Indonesia (HSI) 22, 23, 88 Hoadley, Anna-Greta Nilsson 31n32, 44n6; Indonesian Literature Vs New Order Orthodoxy: The Aftermath of 1965–1966 31n32

Hoerip, Satyagraha 17, 21, 28n2, 29n16, 30n30; “Pada Titik Kulminasi” 19, 27, 32n51, 100 Hollinger, David: Post-Ethnic America: Beyond Multiculturalism 14n50 Holt, Claire: Art in Indonesia 64n4 Home (Chudori) 61, 73 Horison 17, 19–22, 24, 25, 28n1, 51, 99 Hughes, John: End of Soekarno: A Coup that Misfired: A Purge that Ran Wild 2, 10n8 humanitarianism 19, 21 humanity, crimes against 5 human rights abuses 4, 70 human rights culture 14n50 Hunter, Helen Louise 10n9 Ibrahim, A. Kohar: “Fleeting Memories” 74 immediate interpretation 1–2 Indonesia-Malaysia Confrontation 91 Indonesian Communist Party 64n4 Indonesian Literature Vs New Order Orthodoxy: The Aftermath of 1965–1966 (Hoadley) 31n32 Indonesia, 1965: The Coup that Backfired 10n9 Indonesia: The Troubled Victory (Yates) 2, 20, 50 “innocent victims” 33, 35, 41, 48n65 International Writing Program 30n30 Ismail, Taufiq 28n1, 30n30 Istana Jiwa (Sukanta) 70 Jakarta Arts Council 37, 82n56 Jalan Bandungan (Dini) 39, 41–43, 101 Jassin, H. B. 28n1, 78 Jazz, Perfume & the Incident (Ajidarma) 89 Jentera Lepas (Siregar) 39–41, 48n65, 101, 102 Jones, Tod: Culture, Power, and Authoritarianism in the Indonesian State 31n48, 31n49 Jørgensen, Peer Holm: The Forgotten Massacre 13n48; The Missing History 13n48 Kalam (Pramoedya) 76 Kalatidha (Ajidarma) 88 Kayam, Umar 7, 22–27, 32n51, 44n3, 44n6, 57, 79, 101, 103; anti-PKI short stories 32n50; “Bawuk” 24–25, 27, 100, 101; Fireflies

108 Index in Manhattan 31n32; “Kimono Biru Buat Istri” 25–27, 101–102; “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut” 23–28, 100, 101; Para Priyayi 55, 56, 67n42, 100–102; PKI-related short stories 25–27; role in cultural politics 22; “Sri Sumarah” 25, 26, 99, 101; Sri Sumarah dan Cerita Pendek Lainnya 22, 25 The Killing Season: A History of the Indonesian Massacres (Robinson) 11n24 “Kimono Biru Buat Istri” (Kayam) 25– 27, 101–102 Klinken, Gerry van 5 Kroef, Justus M. van der 2 Kubah (Tohari) 33–35, 43, 99, 101 Kumala, Ratih: Gadis Kretek 93–94 Kurniawan, Eka 94; Cantik Itu Luka 85–88, 102 Kuswatin, Nusya: Lasmi 89–92, 99–100, 102 Laksana, A. S. 44n3 Larung (Utami) 85 Lasmi (Kuswatin) 89–92, 99–100, 102 Latief, Abdul 70; Pledoi Kol. A. Latief: Soeharto terlibat G 30 S 72–73 Laut Biru Langit Biru (Rosidi) 27 Left: campaign against 5; defeat of 99; literary texts portray executor and 6; and Soekarno’s Guided Democracy 92; wayang novels and criticism of 55–63 left-wing ideology 35, 36 left-wing politics 7, 8, 40, 50, 51, 56, 57, 59, 60, 63, 65n15, 101 Lekra 6, 8, 15n54, 22, 23, 36, 56, 59–61, 63, 74, 78, 80, 84n63, 84n66, 88, 100, 103; campaign against 51 liberal democracy 6 liberalism 15n52, 23 liberal pluralism 59 literary texts 67n45; translations of 70 literature: Cold War in 6–9; communist cadres in 33–37 The Location of Culture (Bhabha) 14n51 Lontar Foundation 27, 32n51, 61, 70, 73, 74, 79, 103 Lubis, Mochtar 28n1

Lu, Catherine: “The One and Many Faces of Cosmopolitanism” 14n50 Lyotard, Jean-François 2 Maffettone, Pietro 14n50 magical realism 85, 88, 89 Mahabharata 50–52, 58, 60, 64n11 “Maka Sempurnalah Penderitaan Saya di Muka Bumi” (Zulidahlan) 20–21, 101 Malari Incident (1974) 41 Mangunwijaya, Y. B.: Burung-Burung Manyar 52, 53–55, 66n33; Durga Umayi 54, 55, 101; Tumbal 65n24 “Manifesto Kebudayaan” (Cultural Manifesto) 6, 7, 17, 39, 51, 56, 70, 78, 83n57; signatories of 15n53, 30n30 Mânoa 70, 73 Marat, Jean-Paul 88 Marpaung, Rondang Erlina 74 Márquez, Gabriel Garcia 78 Marxism 4, 89 Massardi, Noorca M. 16n64, 92; September 7–8 Massardi, Yudhistira ANM 44n5, 44n6; Mencoba Tidak Menyerah 37, 38, 43, 44n5, 101 mass killings 1, 17, 24, 33, 39, 88 McGehee, Ralph 4 McGlynn, John H. 32n51, 61, 70 McGregor, Katherine 11n24 McVey, Ruth: A Preliminary Analysis of the October 1, 1965, Coup in Indonesia 2 Melvin, Jess 11n24 Menagerie 6 70, 73, 74, 76, 78–80 Mencoba Tidak Menyerah (Massardi) 37, 38, 43, 44n5, 101 Merajut Harkat (Sukanta) 70 metanarrative see grand narrative “Microphone of Pegangsaan Timur 56” 54 The Missing History (Jørgensen) 13n48 Moeljanto, D. S. 28n1 Mohamad, Goenawan 7, 15n57, 16n59, 17, 27, 32n50, 69, 76, 78, 79, 83n57, 83n62, 103 “Moles” (Pramoedya) 76–77, 79 Monarchy (Dante) 13n49 Montesquieu, Gaston 13–14n49

Index  109 “Musim Gugur Kembali di Connecticut” (Kayam) 23–28, 100, 101 national unity, promotion of 52–55 “Naturalization” (Sobron Aidit) 75 neoliberalism 78 neutralism 6 New Order authoritarianism 12n36 New Order regime 2–5, 7–9, 12n36, 17, 20–22, 25–27, 28n6, 33, 35, 37, 39–42, 43n1, 51, 52, 55, 56, 58, 60, 63, 64n11, 66n33, 71–73, 75, 77, 78, 80, 80n2, 80n3, 85, 87–89, 93, 94, 99, 103; brutality of 74; criticism of 58, 70–73, 102; grand narrative of 17, 21, 27, 37, 92 New York Times 2 Noer, Arifin C. 1, 30n30 non-profit organisation 103 Notosusanto, Nugroho 1, 2 Nussbaum, Martha 14n50 “The One and Many Faces of Cosmopolitanism” (Lu) 14n50 “One of the Flock” (Tomodiharjo) 74 “Ooh Lala” (Astama) 77, 102 “Pada Titik Kulminasi” (Hoerip) 19, 27, 32n51, 100 Pamuk, Orhan: Snow 16n59 Pamuntjak, Laksmi: Amba 7, 33, 52, 55, 58, 62, 63, 73, 81n27, 100–102 Para Priyayi (Kayam) 55, 56, 67n42, 100–102 Pauker, Guy 2 “Pecking Order” (Siagian) 74 Pemikiran Karl Marx: Dari Sosialisme Utopis ke Perselisihan Revisionisme (Suseno) 4 Pemuda Rakyat 37 Pengkhianatan G30S/PKI 1–2, 22 Penjebar Semangat 10n18 Perburuan 52–53, 55 “Perempuan dan Anak-Anaknya” (Poyk) 20, 100–101 “Petang di Taman” (Simatupang) 47n51 Pilger, John 79 PKI (Communist Party of Indonesia) 1–4, 9n6, 20, 21; criticism of 37, 58; left-wing politics 50; manipulation of 100; postauthoritarian period 6; in realist

novels 89–94; in surrealist novels 85–89 PKI-related short stories 25–27 Pledoi Kol. A. Latief: Soeharto terlibat G 30 S (Latief) 72–73 Pohlman, Annie 11n24 political antagonisms, of Cold War 5–6 political exiles 74–79 “Politics is the Commander” 36 post-authoritarian period, PKI 6 Post-Ethnic America: Beyond Multiculturalism (Hollinger) 14n50 post-1965 literary texts 100 power: clashes, between Western and Eastern blocs 5; struggle between communism and capitalism 6; transition of 4 Poyk, Gerson 21, 30n30; “Perempuan dan Anak-Anaknya” 20, 100–101 Pramoedya Ananta Toer 6, 8, 15n56, 52, 74, 80, 87, 89; “Arrogance” 76, 79; Kalam 76; “Moles” 76–77, 79; “Tailalat” 76 A Preliminary Analysis of the October 1, 1965, Coup in Indonesia (Anderson and McVey) 2 Prince Claus Awards 66n33 proletarian universalism 60, 61 pro-Soekarno organisations 39 Provisional People’s Consultative Assembly 2 Pulang (Chudori) 7, 30n20, 33, 55, 58, 60–63, 78, 81n27, 100–102 Ramayana 50, 51, 56, 64n11 realist novels, strong women and PKI in 89–94 Red Scare 3, 8, 27, 43, 94, 103 Rendra, W. S. 32n50, 47n51 Resink, Gertrude 50, 64n11 right-wing ideology 36 Robbins, Bruce 14n50, 14n51 Robinson, Geoffrey 5, 13n43; The Killing Season: A History of the Indonesian Massacres 11n24, 13n43 Rochijat, Pipit 4; Baratayuda di Negeri Antah Berantah 58, 67n54, 101 Ronggeng Dukuh Paruk (Tohari) 73 Roosa, John 5, 12n41

110 Index Rosidi, Ajip 44n6; Anak Tanah Air 33, 35–37, 43, 44n4, 44n5, 100, 101; Laut Biru Langit Biru 27 Royal Netherlands East Indies Army (KNIL) 53 Said, Kurban: Ali and Nino 16n59 Saleh, Ismail 2 Salihara Cultural Centre, Jakarta 44n3 Saman (Utami) 66n33, 78, 85 Sani, Asrul 78 Santoro, Ibnu 24 Sarasehan Kesenian (1984) 51 Sarumpaet, Ratna 80n2 Sarwoto, Paulus 7 Sastra 17, 21, 28n1, 99 “sastra kontekstuil,” discourse of 51 Saunders, Frances Stonor: The Cultural Cold War: The CIA and the World of Arts and Letters 13n49 Scherer, Savitri 38 Scott, Peter Dale 4 “Segitiga Emas” (Ajidarma) 67n45 Sendi 41 September (Massardi) 7–8 September Massacre (1792) 88 “September 30th Movement” 1 “Seri Kurawa Protes” 58 Setiawan, Hersri 8, 70; “Between the Bars” 72 Shakespeare, William 42 Siagian, Bachtiar: “Free Fall” 74; “Pecking Order” 74 Siagian, Bunga: Violetta 82n56 Silenced Voices 70, 72, 73 Simatupang, Iwan: “Petang di Taman” 47n51 Siregar, Ashadi 44n6; Jentera Lepas 39–41, 48n65, 101, 102 Snow (Pamuk) 16n59 social realism 6, 87 Soeharto (President) 1, 4–6, 8, 22, 40, 50–51, 55, 74, 76; authoritarian New Order regime 102; New Order regime 57 Soekarno (President) 2, 4, 5, 10n7, 10n8, 12n37, 19, 28n6, 28n10, 53–55, 58, 77, 78, 86, 89, 91; “Crush Malaysia” 39; denial of rising inflation 91; dictatorship 82n55; Guided Democracy 23, 26, 36, 37, 39, 56, 57, 59, 79, 92; left-leaning politics 60; political orientation 52; socialist government 6, 102; speech,

Association of Indonesian Technicians 18; Trikora operation 39; war campaigns 101 Southwood, Julie 4 Srengenge, Sitok 30n30 “Sri Sumarah” (Kayam) 25, 26, 99, 101 Sri Sumarah and Other Stories (Aveling) 22, 25 Sri Sumarah dan Cerita Pendek Lainnya (Kayam) 22, 25 Stalin, Joseph 15n53 Star Weekly 80, 84n66 State Terrorism and Political Identity in Indonesia: Fatally Belonging (Heryanto) 11n24 strong women, in realist novels 89–94 Sugiharto, Bambang 7 “The Suitcase” (Sura) 74 Sujinah 70 Sukanta, Putu Oka 8, 73; Celah 70; Istana Jiwa was 70; Merajut Harkat 70 “Sumantri Ngenger” 56, 67n45 Surabaya to Armageddon: Indonesian Short Stories (Aveling) 22 Sura, J.: “The Suitcase” 74 surrealist novels, PKI in 85–89 Suseno, Magnis: Pemikiran Karl Marx: Dari Sosialisme Utopis ke Perselisihan Revisionisme 4 “Tailalat” (Pramoedya) 76 Talitakum 79 Taman Ismail Marzuki (TIM) 27, 31n48 Taman Mini Indonesia Indah (TMII) project 49n66 “Tanah Air” (Aleida) 75–76, 79 tapol 70–72, 74, 83n57, 88 Taum, Yoseph 7 Tempo 78, 83n57 “Termination of Contract” (Sobron) 75 terror, purpose of 3 Tohari, Ahmad 44n3, 44n5, 81n27; Kubah 33–35, 43, 99, 101; Ronggeng Dukuh Paruk 73 Tomodiharjo, Soeprijadi: “One of the Flock” 74 Trikora operation 39 Tumbal (Mangunwijaya) 65n24 Ubud Writers and Readers Festival 3 Ugati, H. G.: “Ancaman” 21, 30n20, 101 universal humanism 6, 7, 15n53, 15n54, 27, 61

Index  111 universalism 51, 64n12; proletarian 60, 61 Utami, Ayu 30n30, 80n2; Larung 85; Saman 66n33, 78, 85 Veda 51 Violetta (Siagian) 82n56 Wanandi, Jusuf 82n55 Wanandi, Sofjan 82n55 Wardaya, Baskara 5 wayang novels 102; in contemporary Indonesian literature 51–52; and criticism of Left 55–63; in grand narrative 50–51; power struggle in 51; and promotion of national unity 52–55 Wells, H. G. 42 Wertheim, W. F. 4 Western bloc 1, 5–7, 55, 75, 76, 79; of Cold War 12n36; ideology of 23

Western neocolonialism 6 Widodo, Joko 3 Wijaya, Danarto 30n30 Wijaya, Putu 30n30 Winarto, Isla 32n51 “With Tears in Her Eyes” (Hamid) 74 women, anti-leftist novels for 39–43 wong cilik 53, 55, 58, 66n33, 74 Writing Novels Under the New Order: State Censorship, Complicity, and Literary Production in Indonesia, 1977–1986 (Hanafi) 44n5 Yates, Ted 30n22; Indonesia: The Troubled Victory 2, 20, 50 Zaini 28n1 Zulidahlan 27, 30n30; “Maka Sempurnalah Penderitaan Saya di Muka Bumi” 20–21, 101