Beberapa bulan belakangan ini, saya menerima beberapa email atau posting via blog saya, tentang keinginan para pengirim surat tersebut agar Yayasan Pantau bikin kursus menulis esai atau feature dalam Bahasa Inggris.
Budi Putra misalnya, redaktur teknologi Koran Tempo, minta menaruh sebuah esai saya soal bagaimana menulis dalam bahasa Inggris ke situs blog miliknya www.jurnalisme.wordpress.com. Saya tentu senang sekali. Dia sendiri ingin lancar menulis dalam bahasa internasional ini.
Budi juga mengajak saya bertemu di Plasa Senayan. Kami mengobrol dan ia cerita banyak soal beberapa buku karyanya. Tapi rasanya belum afdol kalau belum dalam bahasa Inggris?
Saya anjurkan dia menulis untuk The Jakarta Post. Ia suka dengan ide itu. Ini ajang latihan menulis yang efektif. Disana ada editor yang bisa memberikan feedback dan memperbaiki karyanya.
Minggu lalu, saya lihat byline miliknya muncul di harian ini. Saya ikut senang.
Tapi tak semua orang bisa menulis untuk The Jakarta Post bukan?
"Lia" misalnya usul agar Pantau bikin kursus tersebut. Saya bilang pada Lia bahwa kursus beginian ada beberapa hambatan: sedikitnya tenaga pengajar, proses seleksi untuk mengetahui tata bahasa dan biaya relatif mahal.
Saya sempat menyebut nama Max Lane, kolumnis dari Sidney yang dulu menterjemahkan karya Tetralogi Pulau Buru dari Pramoedya Ananta Toer. Max menikah dengan seorang aktivis perempuan Jakarta. Max bersedia mengajar menulis dalam bahasa Inggris dan tinggal di Jakarta agar dekat dengan isterinya.
Tapi Max khan harus bayar pajak sebagai expatriate? Dia harus dapat izin ini dan itu dari dinas-dinas yang berserakan di Jakarta ini. Semua butuh duit. Biaya hidup ganda --kredit rumah di Sidney dan kontrakan di Jakarta-- tentu juga lebih mahal.
Max sebenarnya orang sederhana, hemat dan murah. Tapi hidup sebagai expat cukup repot di negeri ini. Beda dengan Bangkok atau Singapura. Max adalah aktivis damai. Dulu pernah kerja di Kedutaan Australia di Jakarta namun dikeluarkan karena menterjemahkan karya-karya Pramoedya.
Pantau sering bikin kursus dengan biaya antara Rp 2 - 3 juta per paket (12-14 kali pertemuan). Itu sudah cukup mahal. Padahal pengajarnya orang Jakarta (Agus Sopian, Ayu Utami, Budi Setiyono dan sebagainya) atau kalau expatriate (antara lain Janet Steele) ada subsidi entah dari Ford Foundation atau Fulbright Scholarship.
Belum lagi seleksi untuk menyamakan pemahaman soal tata bahasa. Kita toh sulit bila pesertanya kurang rata mengerti English grammar.
Kalau grammar kurang solid, maka kursusnya juga tak bisa hanya 12-14 kali pertemuan. Mungkin harus lebih banyak lagi. Saya ingat dulu ibunya Norman, mantan isteri saya, Retno Wardani, mengambil kursus bahasa Inggris di Harvard Extension School hingga dua semester: seminggu tiga kali.
Belum lagi pengayaan bacaan. Menulis bukan sekedar mencoretkan kata-kata. Standar kolom dalam Bahasa Inggris, karena persaingan internasional, juga lebih rigid daripada kolom Bahasa Indonesia. Tulisan bermutu pasti ada isinya bukan? Budi Putra sudah membuktikan bahwa ia relatif mudah menembus The Jakarta Post karena ia menguasai isu teknologi. Ada isinya.
Anyway, Lia usul bagaimana bila saya menayangkan isu ini ke forum yang lebih besar. Seberapa penting sih untuk kita bisa menulis dalam bahasa Inggris? Seberapa banyak wartawan kita yang ingin sekali bisa bekerja untuk media internasional? Bagaimana dengan minat praktisi jurnalisme (orang non wartawan yang sering menulis untuk media)?
Seberapa perlu bagi praktisi jurnalisme untuk bisa mengirim feature atau kolom dalam bahasa Inggris? Organisasi mana yang bersedia memberikan subsidi agar expat macam Max Lane bisa mengajar di Jakarta?
Kami ingin sekali mendapatkan masukan ini dari Anda. Kalau Anda ingin ikut tukar pikiran, silahkan dikirim ke email saya atau isi comment disini. Kami akan menjadikannya sebagai bahan pertimbangan internal di Yayasan Pantau.
Kalau memang minat besar, saya percaya selalu ada jalan keluar. Terima kasih.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Bila Gempa Menghantam Jakarta
Sapariah Saturi
JAKARTA -- Misalnya gempa 6 skala Richter menghantam Teluk Jakarta, kira-kira apa yang akan terjadi pada Jalan Sudirman dan Thamrin? Gedung mana retak, mana roboh? Apakah ada kebakaran? Kalau ibukota rusak, sarana komunikasi rusak, pemimpin bahkan ada yang mati, bagaimana kira-kira dampaknya pada ekonomi dan politik Indonesia?
Antonius Budiono termasuk sedikit orang di Jakarta yang berpikir soal skenario ini. Ia sadar berbagai gempa yang melanda Indonesia belakangan ini –dari Pulau Alor hingga Nabire di Papua, dari tsunami di Aceh hingga goyangnya Jogjakarta, apalagi Selat Sunda—membuat Jakarta harus diperhitungkan. Perhitungan yang tak mudah ketika banyak sekali parameter yang tak bisa dihitung. Jangan-jangan gempa tak pernah bakal menerpa Teluk Jakarta ini?
Budiono seorang master manajemen konstruksi lulusan Universitas Washington, St. Louis. Sebelumnya, ia sekolah di Institut Teknologi Surabaya. Ia baru-baru ini ikut menangani renovasi Istana Merdeka. “Banyak rahasianya,” katanya, tertawa. Kalau digoogle, namanya selalu terkait dengan kebijakan pembangunan infrastruktur di Indonesia. Budiono kini Direktur Tata Bangunan Direktorat Jendral Cipta Karya dari Departemen Pekerjaan Umum.
Sederhananya, menurut perhitungan Budiono, Indonesia dibagi dalam enam zona gempa. Tiap zona punya kategori sendiri yang terkait dengan percepatan bergesernya batuan dasar yang terkait dengan gravitasi bumi.
Jakarta termasuk zona tiga atau kategori menengah, sama dengan Jogjakarta. Daerah rawan empat terdekat Jakarta adalah Sukabumi yang terletak di atas patahan bumi Pulau Jawa.
Aceh, Pulau Nias dan Pulau Simeulue, Ujung Kulon dan Pantai Pangandaran termasuk zona enam atau kawasan paling rawan. Daerah sekitar Aceh inilah yang dihantam gempa 9 skala Richter pada 26 Desember 2004 dengan korban tsunami 126.000 jenasah dan 70.000 hilang. Hampir separuh kota Banda Aceh rata dengan tanah. Gempa serupa melanda pantai selatan Pulau Jawa pada 18 Juli 2006 dengan skala hampir 7 Richter dan korban hanya 80 orang lebih.
Di Jakarta, Budiono memperkirakan mayoritas bangunan, terutama gedung bertingkat sepanjang Sudirman dan Thamrin, sudah didesain sesuai apa yang disebut Standar Nasional Indonesia. “Jakarta pasti dicek gedungnya ... sepanjang gempanya zona tiga atau empat itu masih aman.” Pemerintah Jakarta juga memiliki beberapa tim untuk menilai izin pembangunan. Ada Tim Penasehat Arsitektur Kota, Tim Penasehat Konstruksi Bangunan dan Tim Ahli Utilitas Bangunan.
Agus Subardono dari Dinas Tata Kota Jakarta mengatakan, “Bayangkan saja, kalau di kantor bertingkat, gempa dan bangunan roboh, berapa kerugian? Bukan hanya material tapi sumber daya manusia yang akan hilang? Saya kira tidak ada yang mau mengambil risiko itu. Terlalu tinggi.”
Sejak zaman Hindia Belanda, negeri ini sudah memiliki aturan bangunan tahan gempa. Terakhir pada 2002, parlemen Indonesia mengeluarkan UU Bangunan dan Gedung dimana diatur bahwa kantor dan rumah harus dibangun mengikuti ketentuan tahan gempa dan kebakaran.
Ajaibnya, di Indonesia ini tak semua aturan itu ditaati pemerintah kota-kota. Antonius Budiono mengatakan pada 1995-1998, dari 320 kabupaten di Indonesia hanya 220 yang mempunyai “perda bangunan” atau hanya 70%. Dari 70% itu, yang aturannya mengatur persyaratan teknis, hanya 25% atau 55 kabupaten. Persyaratan teknis itupun lebih pada ketinggian bangunan atau tata ruang. Sedikit sekali yang mengatur gempa dan kebakaran.
Hitung saja berapa gedung pencakar langit di Jakarta yang memiliki helipad? Berapa gedung yang rutin bikin fire drill atau latihan kebakaran? Berapa organisasi yang setiap tahun bikin latihan lari dari gempa?
Bambang Pranoto dari Lembaga Konsumen Jasa Konstruksi, sebuah organisasi nonpemerintah, mengatakan aturan memang ada namun tiada organisasi yang melakukan “sertifikasi” untuk menilai kelayakan bangunan. Disain bangunan mayoritas baik tapi pelaksanaan bangunan urusan lain lagi. Umur bangunan kebanyakan juga lebih pendek dari perkiraan disain.
“Konstruksi adalah proses produksi. Jadi tak bisa hanya dilihat dari kualitas perencanaan kekuatan terhadap beban atau pemakai … termasuk gempa,” kata Bambang.
Ingat beberapa bulan lalu ketika tiang antena TV7 di daerah Kebon Jeruk roboh terkena hujan angin dan menewaskan tiga orang? Ternyata tower itu dibangun tanpa izin. Di Jakarta ada ribuan tower dibangun tanpa izin. Rancangan konstruksi tower TV7 terlalu kecil dan dekat pemukiman penduduk.
Atau ingat ketika jalan tol Cipularang amblas? Jalan tol sepanjang 40 km itu baru dioperasikan dalam hitungan bulan. Ia ambruk dan rusak berat pada 28 dan 29 November 2005 di beberapa tempat. Pada 29 Januari 2006, ia juga longsor dalam di daerah Lebak Ater. Padahal nilai investasi jalan itu Rp1,7 triliun. “Itu belum ada gempa lho sudah runtuh!” kata Bambang Pranoto.
Banyak alasan diutarakan, dari menyalahkan "tanah tak stabil" —demi Allah, birokrat di Pulau Jawa ini bisa menyalahkan tanah ketika mereka tahu bahwa Jawa adalah daerah gunung berapi-- sampai "desain khusus" yang belum dimiliki Departemen Pekerjaan Umum.
Kepala Balitbang Departemen Pekerjaan Umum Basuki Hadimuljono mengatakan, “Ini muncul karena tidak ada konsistensi dalam melaksanakan pekerjaan.”
Di Jakarta, memang sulit mengukur dampak dari gempa akibat “inkonsistensi” pelaksanaan bangunan. Ini seharusnya jadi semacam wake up call sesudah gempa Jogjakarta dan tsunami Pangandaran.
Pada 27 Mei lalu, terjadi gempa 5,9 skala Richter di Samudera Hindia dengan jarak epicentrum 37 km dari Jogjakarta. Dalam hitungan menit, ia meratakan 140.000 bangunan dan rumah di sekitar Jogjakarta. Korban jiwa 6.234 serta luka 46.148 orang. Bangunan rusak mencapai 94.000. Padahal Jogjakarta sudah punya “perda bangunan.”
Kalau epicentrum serupa muncul di Teluk Jakarta, ia mempengaruhi seluruh bangunan dari Ancol hingga Ciputat. Daerah-daerah padat --hampir seluruh Jakarta adalah daerah padat-- bisa diperkirakan mengalami dampak terbesar bila konstruksi bangunan tidak punya atau tidak sesuai izin.
Bangunan-bangunan pencakar langit yang bertumpuk di Jakarta bisa runtuh. Kawasan sibuk macam Sudirman dan Thamrin akan jadi kacau bila gempa terjadi pada jam kerja. Begitu juga infrastruktur lain, seperti jalan layang juga jalan tol. Masih untung bila gempa terjadi pada hari Sabtu atau Minggu –korban manusia lebih sedikit.
Bencana alam raksasa juga senantiasa membawa perubahan sosial. Di Acheh, tanpa tsunami takkan ada perjanjian damai Helsinki. Perang kemerdekaan Acheh akan terus berjalan. Tanpa tsunami, Wakil Presiden Jusuf Kalla dan kelompok Bugisnya takkan menemukan batu pijakan untuk berunding dengan Gerakan Acheh Merdeka. Tanpa tsunami, European Union tak punya alasan untuk menekan Jakarta agar berunding demi lancarnya bantuan kemanusiaan untuk Aceh.
Aceh adalah contoh yang sangat jelas. Sejarah juga menunjukkan bahwa gempa bumi senantiasa membawa perubahan sosial di berbagai kepulauan di Asia Tenggara ini. Simon Winchester, geolog dari Universitas Oxford, menerangkan dalam bukunya, Krakatoa: The Day the World Exploded August 27, 1883, bahwa letusan Gunung Krakatau itu menciptakan kerusakan dahsyat pada kedua sisi Selat Sunda: Sumatra dan Jawa. Mayat ditemukan hingga di Zanzibar. Suara ledakan terdengar hingga India dan Australia.
Tapi yang paling penting –dalam jargon dunia politik hari ini—letusan gunung itu memicu sentimen anti-Barat di Pulau Jawa. Penderitaan para petani Jawa serta ketidakbecusan administrasi Hindia Belanda, dalam menangani bencana, menciptakan dendam di kalangan orang kecil.
Generasi Krakatau itulah yang menciptakan orang tua dari anak-anak yang memulai timbulnya “nasionalisme” di kalangan warga “pribumi” di Hindia Belanda. Pemimpin mereka termasuk Tan Malaka, Soekarno, Semaoen, Moh. Hatta, Agus Salim dan sebagainya.
Bila ada gempa macam Krakatau, Jakarta sebagai pusat Negara Kesatuan Republik Indonesia praktis akan lumpuh. Terjadi kevakuman pemerintahan dan berbagai aktivitas lain yang selama ini terpusat di Jakarta.
Bambang Pranoto maupun Antonius Budiono tidak bisa menghitung apa dampak sosial, politik atau ekonomi dari sebuah tsunami di Jakarta. Tak seorang pun bisa. Tapi mereka merasa kuatir –sesuatu yang wajar—mengingat kualitas bangunan di metropolitan ini sangat rentan untuk menopang besarnya kekuasaan yang ada. Jangan-jangan tsunami bukan saja akan mengubur Jakarta, tapi mengubur Republik Indonesia? ***
Sapariah Saturi seorang wartawan ekonomi harian Jurnal Nasional di Jakarta
JAKARTA -- Misalnya gempa 6 skala Richter menghantam Teluk Jakarta, kira-kira apa yang akan terjadi pada Jalan Sudirman dan Thamrin? Gedung mana retak, mana roboh? Apakah ada kebakaran? Kalau ibukota rusak, sarana komunikasi rusak, pemimpin bahkan ada yang mati, bagaimana kira-kira dampaknya pada ekonomi dan politik Indonesia?
Antonius Budiono termasuk sedikit orang di Jakarta yang berpikir soal skenario ini. Ia sadar berbagai gempa yang melanda Indonesia belakangan ini –dari Pulau Alor hingga Nabire di Papua, dari tsunami di Aceh hingga goyangnya Jogjakarta, apalagi Selat Sunda—membuat Jakarta harus diperhitungkan. Perhitungan yang tak mudah ketika banyak sekali parameter yang tak bisa dihitung. Jangan-jangan gempa tak pernah bakal menerpa Teluk Jakarta ini?
Budiono seorang master manajemen konstruksi lulusan Universitas Washington, St. Louis. Sebelumnya, ia sekolah di Institut Teknologi Surabaya. Ia baru-baru ini ikut menangani renovasi Istana Merdeka. “Banyak rahasianya,” katanya, tertawa. Kalau digoogle, namanya selalu terkait dengan kebijakan pembangunan infrastruktur di Indonesia. Budiono kini Direktur Tata Bangunan Direktorat Jendral Cipta Karya dari Departemen Pekerjaan Umum. Sederhananya, menurut perhitungan Budiono, Indonesia dibagi dalam enam zona gempa. Tiap zona punya kategori sendiri yang terkait dengan percepatan bergesernya batuan dasar yang terkait dengan gravitasi bumi.
Jakarta termasuk zona tiga atau kategori menengah, sama dengan Jogjakarta. Daerah rawan empat terdekat Jakarta adalah Sukabumi yang terletak di atas patahan bumi Pulau Jawa.
Aceh, Pulau Nias dan Pulau Simeulue, Ujung Kulon dan Pantai Pangandaran termasuk zona enam atau kawasan paling rawan. Daerah sekitar Aceh inilah yang dihantam gempa 9 skala Richter pada 26 Desember 2004 dengan korban tsunami 126.000 jenasah dan 70.000 hilang. Hampir separuh kota Banda Aceh rata dengan tanah. Gempa serupa melanda pantai selatan Pulau Jawa pada 18 Juli 2006 dengan skala hampir 7 Richter dan korban hanya 80 orang lebih.
Di Jakarta, Budiono memperkirakan mayoritas bangunan, terutama gedung bertingkat sepanjang Sudirman dan Thamrin, sudah didesain sesuai apa yang disebut Standar Nasional Indonesia. “Jakarta pasti dicek gedungnya ... sepanjang gempanya zona tiga atau empat itu masih aman.” Pemerintah Jakarta juga memiliki beberapa tim untuk menilai izin pembangunan. Ada Tim Penasehat Arsitektur Kota, Tim Penasehat Konstruksi Bangunan dan Tim Ahli Utilitas Bangunan.
Agus Subardono dari Dinas Tata Kota Jakarta mengatakan, “Bayangkan saja, kalau di kantor bertingkat, gempa dan bangunan roboh, berapa kerugian? Bukan hanya material tapi sumber daya manusia yang akan hilang? Saya kira tidak ada yang mau mengambil risiko itu. Terlalu tinggi.”
Sejak zaman Hindia Belanda, negeri ini sudah memiliki aturan bangunan tahan gempa. Terakhir pada 2002, parlemen Indonesia mengeluarkan UU Bangunan dan Gedung dimana diatur bahwa kantor dan rumah harus dibangun mengikuti ketentuan tahan gempa dan kebakaran.
Ajaibnya, di Indonesia ini tak semua aturan itu ditaati pemerintah kota-kota. Antonius Budiono mengatakan pada 1995-1998, dari 320 kabupaten di Indonesia hanya 220 yang mempunyai “perda bangunan” atau hanya 70%. Dari 70% itu, yang aturannya mengatur persyaratan teknis, hanya 25% atau 55 kabupaten. Persyaratan teknis itupun lebih pada ketinggian bangunan atau tata ruang. Sedikit sekali yang mengatur gempa dan kebakaran.
Hitung saja berapa gedung pencakar langit di Jakarta yang memiliki helipad? Berapa gedung yang rutin bikin fire drill atau latihan kebakaran? Berapa organisasi yang setiap tahun bikin latihan lari dari gempa?
Bambang Pranoto dari Lembaga Konsumen Jasa Konstruksi, sebuah organisasi nonpemerintah, mengatakan aturan memang ada namun tiada organisasi yang melakukan “sertifikasi” untuk menilai kelayakan bangunan. Disain bangunan mayoritas baik tapi pelaksanaan bangunan urusan lain lagi. Umur bangunan kebanyakan juga lebih pendek dari perkiraan disain.
“Konstruksi adalah proses produksi. Jadi tak bisa hanya dilihat dari kualitas perencanaan kekuatan terhadap beban atau pemakai … termasuk gempa,” kata Bambang.
Ingat beberapa bulan lalu ketika tiang antena TV7 di daerah Kebon Jeruk roboh terkena hujan angin dan menewaskan tiga orang? Ternyata tower itu dibangun tanpa izin. Di Jakarta ada ribuan tower dibangun tanpa izin. Rancangan konstruksi tower TV7 terlalu kecil dan dekat pemukiman penduduk.
Atau ingat ketika jalan tol Cipularang amblas? Jalan tol sepanjang 40 km itu baru dioperasikan dalam hitungan bulan. Ia ambruk dan rusak berat pada 28 dan 29 November 2005 di beberapa tempat. Pada 29 Januari 2006, ia juga longsor dalam di daerah Lebak Ater. Padahal nilai investasi jalan itu Rp1,7 triliun. “Itu belum ada gempa lho sudah runtuh!” kata Bambang Pranoto.
Banyak alasan diutarakan, dari menyalahkan "tanah tak stabil" —demi Allah, birokrat di Pulau Jawa ini bisa menyalahkan tanah ketika mereka tahu bahwa Jawa adalah daerah gunung berapi-- sampai "desain khusus" yang belum dimiliki Departemen Pekerjaan Umum.
Kepala Balitbang Departemen Pekerjaan Umum Basuki Hadimuljono mengatakan, “Ini muncul karena tidak ada konsistensi dalam melaksanakan pekerjaan.”
Di Jakarta, memang sulit mengukur dampak dari gempa akibat “inkonsistensi” pelaksanaan bangunan. Ini seharusnya jadi semacam wake up call sesudah gempa Jogjakarta dan tsunami Pangandaran.
Pada 27 Mei lalu, terjadi gempa 5,9 skala Richter di Samudera Hindia dengan jarak epicentrum 37 km dari Jogjakarta. Dalam hitungan menit, ia meratakan 140.000 bangunan dan rumah di sekitar Jogjakarta. Korban jiwa 6.234 serta luka 46.148 orang. Bangunan rusak mencapai 94.000. Padahal Jogjakarta sudah punya “perda bangunan.”
Kalau epicentrum serupa muncul di Teluk Jakarta, ia mempengaruhi seluruh bangunan dari Ancol hingga Ciputat. Daerah-daerah padat --hampir seluruh Jakarta adalah daerah padat-- bisa diperkirakan mengalami dampak terbesar bila konstruksi bangunan tidak punya atau tidak sesuai izin.
Bangunan-bangunan pencakar langit yang bertumpuk di Jakarta bisa runtuh. Kawasan sibuk macam Sudirman dan Thamrin akan jadi kacau bila gempa terjadi pada jam kerja. Begitu juga infrastruktur lain, seperti jalan layang juga jalan tol. Masih untung bila gempa terjadi pada hari Sabtu atau Minggu –korban manusia lebih sedikit.
Bencana alam raksasa juga senantiasa membawa perubahan sosial. Di Acheh, tanpa tsunami takkan ada perjanjian damai Helsinki. Perang kemerdekaan Acheh akan terus berjalan. Tanpa tsunami, Wakil Presiden Jusuf Kalla dan kelompok Bugisnya takkan menemukan batu pijakan untuk berunding dengan Gerakan Acheh Merdeka. Tanpa tsunami, European Union tak punya alasan untuk menekan Jakarta agar berunding demi lancarnya bantuan kemanusiaan untuk Aceh.
Aceh adalah contoh yang sangat jelas. Sejarah juga menunjukkan bahwa gempa bumi senantiasa membawa perubahan sosial di berbagai kepulauan di Asia Tenggara ini. Simon Winchester, geolog dari Universitas Oxford, menerangkan dalam bukunya, Krakatoa: The Day the World Exploded August 27, 1883, bahwa letusan Gunung Krakatau itu menciptakan kerusakan dahsyat pada kedua sisi Selat Sunda: Sumatra dan Jawa. Mayat ditemukan hingga di Zanzibar. Suara ledakan terdengar hingga India dan Australia.
Tapi yang paling penting –dalam jargon dunia politik hari ini—letusan gunung itu memicu sentimen anti-Barat di Pulau Jawa. Penderitaan para petani Jawa serta ketidakbecusan administrasi Hindia Belanda, dalam menangani bencana, menciptakan dendam di kalangan orang kecil.
Generasi Krakatau itulah yang menciptakan orang tua dari anak-anak yang memulai timbulnya “nasionalisme” di kalangan warga “pribumi” di Hindia Belanda. Pemimpin mereka termasuk Tan Malaka, Soekarno, Semaoen, Moh. Hatta, Agus Salim dan sebagainya.
Bila ada gempa macam Krakatau, Jakarta sebagai pusat Negara Kesatuan Republik Indonesia praktis akan lumpuh. Terjadi kevakuman pemerintahan dan berbagai aktivitas lain yang selama ini terpusat di Jakarta.
Bambang Pranoto maupun Antonius Budiono tidak bisa menghitung apa dampak sosial, politik atau ekonomi dari sebuah tsunami di Jakarta. Tak seorang pun bisa. Tapi mereka merasa kuatir –sesuatu yang wajar—mengingat kualitas bangunan di metropolitan ini sangat rentan untuk menopang besarnya kekuasaan yang ada. Jangan-jangan tsunami bukan saja akan mengubur Jakarta, tapi mengubur Republik Indonesia? ***
Sapariah Saturi seorang wartawan ekonomi harian Jurnal Nasional di Jakarta
Monday, July 17, 2006
Menulis Kayak Boker
Seorang kenalan, Parama Dewi dari Denpasar, mengirim email maupun kasih komentar di di blog. Ini komentar soal produktifitas aku menulis. Dewi bilang produktifitas aku kalau nulis udah kayak boker! He he he ....
Ini mengingatkan aku pada komentar Idrus terhadap Pramoedya Ananta Toer. Idrus seorang novelis yang dikenal dengan novel Surabaya dan kumpulan tulisan, Dari Ave Maria ke Jalan Lain ke Roma.
Ketika pertama kali bertemu Pram, Idrus yang waktu itu redaktur Balai Pustaka mengatakan, "O, ini yang namanya Pramoedya! Pram, engkau ini bukan ngarang, tapi berak!"
Kini Parama Dewi mengucapkannya "boker" untuk produktifitas aku.
Aku jelas tak seproduktif Pramoedya. Pram menghasilkan lebih dari 40 buku. Aku satu saja belum ada. Kini menulis satu pun sudah rasanya setengah mati. Menulis untuk blog tak bisa disamakan dengan buku. Aku sering malu sendiri bila melihat semangat Pram menulis.
Kini aku masih sibuk cari penerbit yang mau kasih sedikit uang muka maupun sponsor baru.
Ini mengingatkan aku pada komentar Idrus terhadap Pramoedya Ananta Toer. Idrus seorang novelis yang dikenal dengan novel Surabaya dan kumpulan tulisan, Dari Ave Maria ke Jalan Lain ke Roma.
Ketika pertama kali bertemu Pram, Idrus yang waktu itu redaktur Balai Pustaka mengatakan, "O, ini yang namanya Pramoedya! Pram, engkau ini bukan ngarang, tapi berak!"
Kini Parama Dewi mengucapkannya "boker" untuk produktifitas aku.
Aku jelas tak seproduktif Pramoedya. Pram menghasilkan lebih dari 40 buku. Aku satu saja belum ada. Kini menulis satu pun sudah rasanya setengah mati. Menulis untuk blog tak bisa disamakan dengan buku. Aku sering malu sendiri bila melihat semangat Pram menulis.
Kini aku masih sibuk cari penerbit yang mau kasih sedikit uang muka maupun sponsor baru.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Lowongan: Translator Covering Oil
Yayasan Pantau akan membantu Revenue Watch menterjemahkan buku Covering Oil: A Reporter's Guide to Energy and Development. Ini sebuah antologi 150 halaman karya beberapa ekonom dan wartawan. Harapannya, ia bisa jadi buku pegangan liputan minyak bumi.
Kami kini mencari seorang translator dan editor guna memulai proses penterjemahannya.
Kriteria: (1) praktisi jurnalisme atau wartawan yang memahami masalah ekonomi dan pertambangan; (2) paham dengan prinsip penterjemahan, dari soal teknis kata-kata hingga transformasi gaya; (3) kritis terhadap birokratisasi Bahasa Indonesia dengan memahami kritik-kritik ahli bahasa macam Ariel Heryanto; (4) biasa bekerja rapi, tanpa salah ejaan.
Kalau Anda berminat mendapatkan pekerjaan ini, mohon memeriksa dulu link buku pedoman ini: http://www.revenuewatch.org/reports/072305.shtml
Ia juga tersedia dalam bentuk file .pdf sehingga bisa dicetak mudah.
Kirimkan lamaran Anda serta satu contoh karya Anda ke alamat Eva Danayanti (eva@pantau.or.id) serta mencantumkan rate rupiah yang Anda kehendaki (khusus translator). Untuk editor, kami mohon Anda cantumkan harga borongan. Lamaran selambatnya 24 Juli. Terima kasih
Kartun menggambarkan kinerja Pertamina lebih buruk dibanding Petronas (Malaysia) dan Shell (Inggris). Ini karya Gandjar Dewa dari harian Jurnal Nasional. Pemuatan kartun seizin Gandjar Dewa
Kami kini mencari seorang translator dan editor guna memulai proses penterjemahannya.
Kriteria: (1) praktisi jurnalisme atau wartawan yang memahami masalah ekonomi dan pertambangan; (2) paham dengan prinsip penterjemahan, dari soal teknis kata-kata hingga transformasi gaya; (3) kritis terhadap birokratisasi Bahasa Indonesia dengan memahami kritik-kritik ahli bahasa macam Ariel Heryanto; (4) biasa bekerja rapi, tanpa salah ejaan.Kalau Anda berminat mendapatkan pekerjaan ini, mohon memeriksa dulu link buku pedoman ini: http://www.revenuewatch.org/reports/072305.shtml
Ia juga tersedia dalam bentuk file .pdf sehingga bisa dicetak mudah.
Kirimkan lamaran Anda serta satu contoh karya Anda ke alamat Eva Danayanti (eva@pantau.or.id) serta mencantumkan rate rupiah yang Anda kehendaki (khusus translator). Untuk editor, kami mohon Anda cantumkan harga borongan. Lamaran selambatnya 24 Juli. Terima kasih
Kartun menggambarkan kinerja Pertamina lebih buruk dibanding Petronas (Malaysia) dan Shell (Inggris). Ini karya Gandjar Dewa dari harian Jurnal Nasional. Pemuatan kartun seizin Gandjar Dewa
Friday, July 14, 2006
Nationalism and Sea Piracy
A keynote speech "Nationalism and Sea Piracy on the Malacca Strait" presented at the "Maritime Piracy in Southeast Asia" at Hotel Equatorial, Kuala Lumpur, 14 July 2006
In November 1998, a Sangir sailor who used to work for a Chinese businessman, boarded his former boss’ Pulau Mas tanker ship in Malaysian waters, near Johor Baru. He tried to solve an old dispute by asking for 50,000 Singaporean dollars. Sailor Franky Kansil brought three Indonesian Navy officers and two thugs to make his point.
“Mister Wong,” the businessman, did not have the money. He made some phone calls, including one to his girlfriend, Ayu Nani Sabri, a Javanese woman who works at a karaoke bar on Indonesia’s Batam Island. Batam is a lousy small island about 30-minute ferry ride south of Singapore. “He told me about the situation and asked me to contact someone at Kodim Batam,” Ayu recalled. Kodim is a Bahasa Indonesia acronym for a district army command.
Wong claimed that he is an oil shipper. But Indonesian government alleged that he had masterminded some major maritime piracies on the Malacca Strait. It is not a small piracy involving one or two boats by small-time pirates based in Belakang Panjang Island or Jemaja Island, just across Singapore. But his is a big operation. He once allegedly paid Kansil to captain a hijacked tanker from the Malacca Strait to Sihanoukville in southern Cambodia.
Wong’s real name is a mystery. His passport, once seized by the Indonesian Navy, showed that his name is “Chew Cheng Kiat.” The Singapore Embassy to Jakarta, however, claimed that it was a stolen passport. A Batam hotelier, where Ayu and Wong regularly stayed, told me that “Mister Wong” usually used a “Chong Kee Fong” passport.
That night aboard the Pulau Mas, Wong persuaded Kansil to leave the tanker ship and promised to solve the problem in Batam. It is not clear what that money was for. A protection money? An unpaid payment?
The following day on Nov. 24, Wong visited Batam and stayed in his regular Hotel Kolekta. He used some days between Nov. 24 and Nov. 29 for unknown activities — "Waiting," he said — but disappeared from Batam. Ayu Nani Sabri also did not know what her man had actually done during the period.
Meanwhile, Kansil repeatedly made phone calls both to Ayu and Pulau Mas captain Arief Lasenda, threatening to beat and to kill Wong if the Chinaman did not appear and pay a ransom.
Wong appeared again in Batam on Nov 29 and decided to spend the night with Ayu at Hotel 88, rather than Hotel Kolekta. "We saw some Navy intelligence officers at Kolekta," said Ayu. She recalled that Wong was calm that evening. Perhaps, he was confident that the Kodim officer, whom Ayu had initially contacted, had helped secure his problem. Wong spent the nights together with Ayu until the Navy raided their hotel room on Dec 1.
According to Indonesian Rear Admiral Sumardi, who held a press conference after the arrest, his men had detained Wong and seven Pulau Mas crewmembers. They had allegedly produced fake immigration stamps and hijacked foreign ships such as the MT Atlanta and MT Petro Ranger in Indonesian waters.
Admiral Sumardi said that his men had been focusing their attention on Pulau Mas for months as it was repeatedly sighted in the Batam waters. But every time an Indonesian patrol boat approached the vessel, it would sail into either Singaporean or Malaysian waters.
Through an “ex-member” of the Wong syndicate, Admiral Sumardi received information that Pulau Mas would be sailing closer to Batam in late November. Inside the tanker ship, the Navy found ample evidence of criminal activity which included 15 handcuffs, 14 facemasks, knives, fake immigration stamps, paint, and ship stamps that let the pirates convert hijacked vessels into "phantom" ships.
Captain Arief Lasenda, who is among the seven crew jailed in a Batam prison, denied the charges. He told me that Kansil had most probably had a secret arrangement with some Indonesian officers to both extort money from Wong and to use the Indonesian Navy to extend their interests. When asked about the handcuffs and facemasks, Lasenda said it was normal for a captain to possess such equipment. "A captain onboard his ship also functions as a policeman, a prosecutor and a judge," he said, adding that if they were pirates why they had no firearms.
I covered this episode from Jakarta, Batam and Kuala Lumpur, writing wrote some reports for the Bangkok-based Nation daily. Wong was later found guilty in the Batam court. His lawyers pointed out (correctly) that his arrest did not follow proper procedures. Some years later, Wong escaped from the prison but rearrested and transferred to the Pekanbaru prison on Sumatra Island.
Indonesia's media, including the Batam-based Sijori Pos daily, a subsidiary of the Tempo Jawa Pos group, never mentioned anything about Franky Kansil or Ayu Nani Sabri. They mostly quoted Navy and police officers in charge of the Wong case, suggesting that Indonesian media, both those in Batam and in Jakarta, did not know much about the clash in the Johor Baru anchorage.
Like most journalists, I moved on and covered other stories, from East Timor’s independence to the Jemaah Islamiyah’s bombings in Bali. Thomas L. Friedman of The New York Times writes that the post-Suharto Indonesia has became a messy state: too big to fail, too messy to work.
The result is rampant corruption and a fragmentation of power in which neither the military, the parliament, the executive nor the remnants of the old order have the strength to assert their will. “That's why in messy states, you never quite know when arms are sold, people murdered or payoffs demanded whether this is by design of those ostensibly in charge or because no one is in charge,” writes Friedman.
A messy state, from a journalist’s point of view, means big stories.
I traveled into the jungles of Aceh and Papua, meeting Acehnese guerrillas and Papuan freedom fighters; I had gone to see Alifuru leaders in the Maluku Islands; I visited remote islands like Miangas in the Talaud Islands or Ndana Island near Australia. I covered the emergence of Minahasan nationalism in northern Sulawesi or the clashes between the Malay and the Dayak ethnic groups in Kalimantan, resulting in the killing of more than 6,500 Madurese settlers between 1997 and 2001.
Since the 1950s, Aceh has struggled to secede from Indonesia and Papua set up its own Free Papua Organization in 1965. Indonesia comprises thousands of islands stretching over a distance from east to west that is approximately the same as from London to Baghdad. Its 210 million people speak more than 500 different languages and 88 percent of its population are Muslims, especially on the islands of Java and Sumatra, making Indonesia the largest Islamic country in the world. But it has a Christian majority in its eastern provinces.
Ethnic violence and separatist movements are escalating in a messy Indonesia. The main reasons are injustice, human rights abuses and the growing gap between the main island of Java and the other islands. Now questions are being raised whether Indonesia can survive as a nation-state. Indonesia might disintegrate like Yugoslavia, given that its people’s only common history is their Dutch colonial past. Suharto managed to keep the country together by brutal means after he rose to power in 1965. But when he left power in May 1998, the institutions that he had built up also began to crumble.
I covered these messy activities but still remembered the Malacca Strait. When travelling around the Sangir Islands two years ago, I tried to find Franky Kansil in his hometown, Tahuna. He was not there. He was even not known among several Sangir sailors.
Whether it was a piracy on the Malacca Strait or the sectarian wars in the Malukus, I consistently found one thing in common: the involvement of Indonesian military officers, big or small, direct or indirect, in shadowy businesses. Mister Wong cooperated with at least one army officer. I am not surprised if he worked with more than one.
Franky Kansil cooperated with some navy officers. In Papua and Kalimantan, the military involved heavily in illegal logging activities. I once interviewed an Army sergeant who opened a bar with dozens of sex workers in Merauke in Papua, using his income to help pay his troops’ meals.
The New York-based Human Rights Watch last month published a 126-page report, Too High a Price: The Human Rights Cost of the Indonesian Military Economic Activities, in which it describes how the Indonesian military raises money outside the government budget through a sprawling network of legal and illegal businesses. They provided paid services –their clients included multinational corporations like Freeport McMoran and Exxon Mobil-- and marked up military purchases.
A dead Army brigadier general was last month found in his Jakarta house to have amassed various weapons, enough to completely arm one battalion. The findings included 96 rifles, seven ungrooved rifles and 42 short-barreled rifles. In all, the 145 weapons were of varying makes: SS-1, MP-5, M-16 and AK-47. Army investigators also found 28,985 bullets, eight grenades, and 28 pairs of binoculars. Brig. Gen. Kusmayadi was obviously aimed for something prior to his sudden death. Was he an arms trader? Was he involved in some sabotage?
The main problem is that the Indonesian military’s budget is sufficient to meet only half of its needs. It has to cover the remainder independently. Cornell University’s Indonesia journal, which publishes quarterly military analysis, came out with an even lower number: only 30 percent. The remaining 70 percent has been self-financed by the Indonesian military.
The journal reported that these funds come from three sources: (1) military enterprises under its complex foundations or yayasan; (2) security and other military services (e.g. transportation) for civilian “clients”; (3) illegal or criminal businesses orchestrated, or backed, by military personnel (and units), including protection rackets for prostitution and gambling businesses.
Type-3 business activities are mainly conducted by the lowest level in the army command structure (individuals and troops). Type-2 business activities are largely managed by the Kodam (army command on the provincial level) and Korem (under Kodam). The army central command in Jakarta is not in a position to supervise the type-2 and type-3 activities. It is only type-1 businesses that the army headquarters can deal with directly.
The Asian economic crisis damaged the type-1 enterprises and exposed their weaknesses: endemic corruption and poor management. The Army headquarters, however, found difficulties to investigate the bankruptcies. Dozens of Kurmayadi-typed officers were involved in these corrupt practices.
Only by 2001, the Army headquarters came to understand that these bankruptcies posed a fundamental threat to the entire institution and decided to employ foreign accounting firms to conduct a full investigation into its biggest foundation, Yayasan Kartika Eka Paksi. The Ernst & Young result, after an eight-month audit, was a real jolt: only two of the 38 army enterprises were generating profit.
These financial pressures prompted military commanders to be “more creative” in financing their troops. Directly or indirectly, the 900-kilometer Malacca Strait is a source of funding potential as well as a hide-and-seek playgrounds for the Indonesian military. They could increase patrol to minimize crimes –when the international communities are screaming-- but also to give green-light signals to their underworld links.
Who do the screaming? Well, government officials, the U.S. and Singapore governments, scholars, al Qaeda experts and many other concerned citizens do that.
U.S. State Secretary Condoleezza Rice said one-quarter of the world’s oil and trade pass through the Malacca Strait every year. “Southeast Asia is more water and land, and maritime security is a top priority,” Rice said.
“We’re working with Indonesia and others to close this region’s waterways to drug smugglers and human traffickers, pirates and weapon proliferators.”
Tim Huxley, a London writer on piracy in Southeast Asia, estimated “62,000 shipping movements” through the strait every year. Huxley doubted the Indonesian military’s ability and seriousness in protecting these waters.
According to Christian LeMiere, Asia editor for Jane’s Country Risk in London, territorial sensitivities about a patrol chasing suspected pirates into a neighbor’s waters in so-called “hot pursuits” could make it easy for criminals to slip away. “There are doubts about the effectiveness of these patrols,” LeMiere said, adding that in some cases in Indonesia, law enforcement authorities are suspected of colluding with pirates.
Billateral disputes as well as sovereignty concern also undercut maritime cooperation. Last year, a dispute over an oil field in Ambalat, Sulawesi Sea, triggered a tense standoff between the Malaysian and Indonesian navies. Indonesian media played a role in creating a nationalistic brouhaha, prompting several militia groups to burn Malaysian flags and to arm themselves to go to Ambalat. Metro TV broadcasted patriotic songs, as if challenging narrow-minded militias to fight the Malaysian state. The Malaysian government even threatened to file a law suit against Kompas daily.
I am afraid, like what the pirates do with border issues, the Indonesian government, media and military manipulated nationalism and sovereignity concern to secure their respective narrow interests over the security of the Malacca Strait and other territorial matters. In fact, the nation building process of Indonesia had been seriously corroded since it gained international recognition in the 1940s.
It's been 60 years, but killing in the name of Indonesia still takes place. Indonesia kills almost as many of its citizens as Germany did under Adolf Hitler (six million victims) or the Soviet Union under Joseph Stalin (five million).
Hasan di Tiro of the Free Aceh Movement simply said that "Indonesia" is the pseudonym of bangsa Jawa or "Javanese nation". Indonesia was imagined and created to serve the densely populated Java Island.
Papua freedom fighters believed that the Papuans are dying. They are being exploited by Jakarta's imperialism. The Papuans were made to be dirt poor in their mineral-rich land and waters.
In Ambon, Semuel Waileruny said the people of Maluku had suffered tremendously under the "Javanization" program.
In Riau, where Batam and those small islands of pirates are located, many students, activists and intellectuals are talking about having a “sovereign Riau.” They know that Riau is one of Indonesia’s richest provinces –like Aceh, Papua and Kalimantan—but most money goes to Jakarta. They are not openly fighting against Jakarta but clearly differentiate themselves as “Malay” with their “Malay cultures” –not “Indonesians” and “Indonesian cultures.”
Indonesia’s most internationally-recognized novelist Pramoedya Ananta Toer, who used his literary brilliance to help build its nationalism, told me that the mind-set among the Jakarta ruling elite is the main problem. They saw Indonesia more as a territorial matter than a nation-building process. "If Indonesia was to break up, wars will happen continuously. Java has too many people and they are mostly poor," said Pramoedya.
The security of the Malacca Strait is closely related to the rising new nationalism among many “nations” in Indonesia. ***
Andreas Harsono heads the Pantau Foundation in Jakarta. It is a media think tank doing journalism courses, newspaper consultancy and media research. He is currently writing a book, From Sabang to Merauke: Debunking the Myth of Indonesian Nationalism.
In November 1998, a Sangir sailor who used to work for a Chinese businessman, boarded his former boss’ Pulau Mas tanker ship in Malaysian waters, near Johor Baru. He tried to solve an old dispute by asking for 50,000 Singaporean dollars. Sailor Franky Kansil brought three Indonesian Navy officers and two thugs to make his point.
“Mister Wong,” the businessman, did not have the money. He made some phone calls, including one to his girlfriend, Ayu Nani Sabri, a Javanese woman who works at a karaoke bar on Indonesia’s Batam Island. Batam is a lousy small island about 30-minute ferry ride south of Singapore. “He told me about the situation and asked me to contact someone at Kodim Batam,” Ayu recalled. Kodim is a Bahasa Indonesia acronym for a district army command.
Wong claimed that he is an oil shipper. But Indonesian government alleged that he had masterminded some major maritime piracies on the Malacca Strait. It is not a small piracy involving one or two boats by small-time pirates based in Belakang Panjang Island or Jemaja Island, just across Singapore. But his is a big operation. He once allegedly paid Kansil to captain a hijacked tanker from the Malacca Strait to Sihanoukville in southern Cambodia.
Wong’s real name is a mystery. His passport, once seized by the Indonesian Navy, showed that his name is “Chew Cheng Kiat.” The Singapore Embassy to Jakarta, however, claimed that it was a stolen passport. A Batam hotelier, where Ayu and Wong regularly stayed, told me that “Mister Wong” usually used a “Chong Kee Fong” passport.
That night aboard the Pulau Mas, Wong persuaded Kansil to leave the tanker ship and promised to solve the problem in Batam. It is not clear what that money was for. A protection money? An unpaid payment?
The following day on Nov. 24, Wong visited Batam and stayed in his regular Hotel Kolekta. He used some days between Nov. 24 and Nov. 29 for unknown activities — "Waiting," he said — but disappeared from Batam. Ayu Nani Sabri also did not know what her man had actually done during the period.
Meanwhile, Kansil repeatedly made phone calls both to Ayu and Pulau Mas captain Arief Lasenda, threatening to beat and to kill Wong if the Chinaman did not appear and pay a ransom.
Wong appeared again in Batam on Nov 29 and decided to spend the night with Ayu at Hotel 88, rather than Hotel Kolekta. "We saw some Navy intelligence officers at Kolekta," said Ayu. She recalled that Wong was calm that evening. Perhaps, he was confident that the Kodim officer, whom Ayu had initially contacted, had helped secure his problem. Wong spent the nights together with Ayu until the Navy raided their hotel room on Dec 1.
According to Indonesian Rear Admiral Sumardi, who held a press conference after the arrest, his men had detained Wong and seven Pulau Mas crewmembers. They had allegedly produced fake immigration stamps and hijacked foreign ships such as the MT Atlanta and MT Petro Ranger in Indonesian waters.
Admiral Sumardi said that his men had been focusing their attention on Pulau Mas for months as it was repeatedly sighted in the Batam waters. But every time an Indonesian patrol boat approached the vessel, it would sail into either Singaporean or Malaysian waters.
Through an “ex-member” of the Wong syndicate, Admiral Sumardi received information that Pulau Mas would be sailing closer to Batam in late November. Inside the tanker ship, the Navy found ample evidence of criminal activity which included 15 handcuffs, 14 facemasks, knives, fake immigration stamps, paint, and ship stamps that let the pirates convert hijacked vessels into "phantom" ships.
Captain Arief Lasenda, who is among the seven crew jailed in a Batam prison, denied the charges. He told me that Kansil had most probably had a secret arrangement with some Indonesian officers to both extort money from Wong and to use the Indonesian Navy to extend their interests. When asked about the handcuffs and facemasks, Lasenda said it was normal for a captain to possess such equipment. "A captain onboard his ship also functions as a policeman, a prosecutor and a judge," he said, adding that if they were pirates why they had no firearms.
I covered this episode from Jakarta, Batam and Kuala Lumpur, writing wrote some reports for the Bangkok-based Nation daily. Wong was later found guilty in the Batam court. His lawyers pointed out (correctly) that his arrest did not follow proper procedures. Some years later, Wong escaped from the prison but rearrested and transferred to the Pekanbaru prison on Sumatra Island.
Indonesia's media, including the Batam-based Sijori Pos daily, a subsidiary of the Tempo Jawa Pos group, never mentioned anything about Franky Kansil or Ayu Nani Sabri. They mostly quoted Navy and police officers in charge of the Wong case, suggesting that Indonesian media, both those in Batam and in Jakarta, did not know much about the clash in the Johor Baru anchorage.
Like most journalists, I moved on and covered other stories, from East Timor’s independence to the Jemaah Islamiyah’s bombings in Bali. Thomas L. Friedman of The New York Times writes that the post-Suharto Indonesia has became a messy state: too big to fail, too messy to work.
The result is rampant corruption and a fragmentation of power in which neither the military, the parliament, the executive nor the remnants of the old order have the strength to assert their will. “That's why in messy states, you never quite know when arms are sold, people murdered or payoffs demanded whether this is by design of those ostensibly in charge or because no one is in charge,” writes Friedman.
A messy state, from a journalist’s point of view, means big stories.
I traveled into the jungles of Aceh and Papua, meeting Acehnese guerrillas and Papuan freedom fighters; I had gone to see Alifuru leaders in the Maluku Islands; I visited remote islands like Miangas in the Talaud Islands or Ndana Island near Australia. I covered the emergence of Minahasan nationalism in northern Sulawesi or the clashes between the Malay and the Dayak ethnic groups in Kalimantan, resulting in the killing of more than 6,500 Madurese settlers between 1997 and 2001.
Since the 1950s, Aceh has struggled to secede from Indonesia and Papua set up its own Free Papua Organization in 1965. Indonesia comprises thousands of islands stretching over a distance from east to west that is approximately the same as from London to Baghdad. Its 210 million people speak more than 500 different languages and 88 percent of its population are Muslims, especially on the islands of Java and Sumatra, making Indonesia the largest Islamic country in the world. But it has a Christian majority in its eastern provinces.
Ethnic violence and separatist movements are escalating in a messy Indonesia. The main reasons are injustice, human rights abuses and the growing gap between the main island of Java and the other islands. Now questions are being raised whether Indonesia can survive as a nation-state. Indonesia might disintegrate like Yugoslavia, given that its people’s only common history is their Dutch colonial past. Suharto managed to keep the country together by brutal means after he rose to power in 1965. But when he left power in May 1998, the institutions that he had built up also began to crumble.
I covered these messy activities but still remembered the Malacca Strait. When travelling around the Sangir Islands two years ago, I tried to find Franky Kansil in his hometown, Tahuna. He was not there. He was even not known among several Sangir sailors.
Whether it was a piracy on the Malacca Strait or the sectarian wars in the Malukus, I consistently found one thing in common: the involvement of Indonesian military officers, big or small, direct or indirect, in shadowy businesses. Mister Wong cooperated with at least one army officer. I am not surprised if he worked with more than one.
Franky Kansil cooperated with some navy officers. In Papua and Kalimantan, the military involved heavily in illegal logging activities. I once interviewed an Army sergeant who opened a bar with dozens of sex workers in Merauke in Papua, using his income to help pay his troops’ meals.
The New York-based Human Rights Watch last month published a 126-page report, Too High a Price: The Human Rights Cost of the Indonesian Military Economic Activities, in which it describes how the Indonesian military raises money outside the government budget through a sprawling network of legal and illegal businesses. They provided paid services –their clients included multinational corporations like Freeport McMoran and Exxon Mobil-- and marked up military purchases.
A dead Army brigadier general was last month found in his Jakarta house to have amassed various weapons, enough to completely arm one battalion. The findings included 96 rifles, seven ungrooved rifles and 42 short-barreled rifles. In all, the 145 weapons were of varying makes: SS-1, MP-5, M-16 and AK-47. Army investigators also found 28,985 bullets, eight grenades, and 28 pairs of binoculars. Brig. Gen. Kusmayadi was obviously aimed for something prior to his sudden death. Was he an arms trader? Was he involved in some sabotage?
The main problem is that the Indonesian military’s budget is sufficient to meet only half of its needs. It has to cover the remainder independently. Cornell University’s Indonesia journal, which publishes quarterly military analysis, came out with an even lower number: only 30 percent. The remaining 70 percent has been self-financed by the Indonesian military.
The journal reported that these funds come from three sources: (1) military enterprises under its complex foundations or yayasan; (2) security and other military services (e.g. transportation) for civilian “clients”; (3) illegal or criminal businesses orchestrated, or backed, by military personnel (and units), including protection rackets for prostitution and gambling businesses.
Type-3 business activities are mainly conducted by the lowest level in the army command structure (individuals and troops). Type-2 business activities are largely managed by the Kodam (army command on the provincial level) and Korem (under Kodam). The army central command in Jakarta is not in a position to supervise the type-2 and type-3 activities. It is only type-1 businesses that the army headquarters can deal with directly.
The Asian economic crisis damaged the type-1 enterprises and exposed their weaknesses: endemic corruption and poor management. The Army headquarters, however, found difficulties to investigate the bankruptcies. Dozens of Kurmayadi-typed officers were involved in these corrupt practices.
Only by 2001, the Army headquarters came to understand that these bankruptcies posed a fundamental threat to the entire institution and decided to employ foreign accounting firms to conduct a full investigation into its biggest foundation, Yayasan Kartika Eka Paksi. The Ernst & Young result, after an eight-month audit, was a real jolt: only two of the 38 army enterprises were generating profit.
These financial pressures prompted military commanders to be “more creative” in financing their troops. Directly or indirectly, the 900-kilometer Malacca Strait is a source of funding potential as well as a hide-and-seek playgrounds for the Indonesian military. They could increase patrol to minimize crimes –when the international communities are screaming-- but also to give green-light signals to their underworld links.
Who do the screaming? Well, government officials, the U.S. and Singapore governments, scholars, al Qaeda experts and many other concerned citizens do that.
U.S. State Secretary Condoleezza Rice said one-quarter of the world’s oil and trade pass through the Malacca Strait every year. “Southeast Asia is more water and land, and maritime security is a top priority,” Rice said.
“We’re working with Indonesia and others to close this region’s waterways to drug smugglers and human traffickers, pirates and weapon proliferators.”
Tim Huxley, a London writer on piracy in Southeast Asia, estimated “62,000 shipping movements” through the strait every year. Huxley doubted the Indonesian military’s ability and seriousness in protecting these waters.
According to Christian LeMiere, Asia editor for Jane’s Country Risk in London, territorial sensitivities about a patrol chasing suspected pirates into a neighbor’s waters in so-called “hot pursuits” could make it easy for criminals to slip away. “There are doubts about the effectiveness of these patrols,” LeMiere said, adding that in some cases in Indonesia, law enforcement authorities are suspected of colluding with pirates.
Billateral disputes as well as sovereignty concern also undercut maritime cooperation. Last year, a dispute over an oil field in Ambalat, Sulawesi Sea, triggered a tense standoff between the Malaysian and Indonesian navies. Indonesian media played a role in creating a nationalistic brouhaha, prompting several militia groups to burn Malaysian flags and to arm themselves to go to Ambalat. Metro TV broadcasted patriotic songs, as if challenging narrow-minded militias to fight the Malaysian state. The Malaysian government even threatened to file a law suit against Kompas daily.
I am afraid, like what the pirates do with border issues, the Indonesian government, media and military manipulated nationalism and sovereignity concern to secure their respective narrow interests over the security of the Malacca Strait and other territorial matters. In fact, the nation building process of Indonesia had been seriously corroded since it gained international recognition in the 1940s.
It's been 60 years, but killing in the name of Indonesia still takes place. Indonesia kills almost as many of its citizens as Germany did under Adolf Hitler (six million victims) or the Soviet Union under Joseph Stalin (five million).
Hasan di Tiro of the Free Aceh Movement simply said that "Indonesia" is the pseudonym of bangsa Jawa or "Javanese nation". Indonesia was imagined and created to serve the densely populated Java Island.
Papua freedom fighters believed that the Papuans are dying. They are being exploited by Jakarta's imperialism. The Papuans were made to be dirt poor in their mineral-rich land and waters.
In Ambon, Semuel Waileruny said the people of Maluku had suffered tremendously under the "Javanization" program.
In Riau, where Batam and those small islands of pirates are located, many students, activists and intellectuals are talking about having a “sovereign Riau.” They know that Riau is one of Indonesia’s richest provinces –like Aceh, Papua and Kalimantan—but most money goes to Jakarta. They are not openly fighting against Jakarta but clearly differentiate themselves as “Malay” with their “Malay cultures” –not “Indonesians” and “Indonesian cultures.”
Indonesia’s most internationally-recognized novelist Pramoedya Ananta Toer, who used his literary brilliance to help build its nationalism, told me that the mind-set among the Jakarta ruling elite is the main problem. They saw Indonesia more as a territorial matter than a nation-building process. "If Indonesia was to break up, wars will happen continuously. Java has too many people and they are mostly poor," said Pramoedya.
The security of the Malacca Strait is closely related to the rising new nationalism among many “nations” in Indonesia. ***
Andreas Harsono heads the Pantau Foundation in Jakarta. It is a media think tank doing journalism courses, newspaper consultancy and media research. He is currently writing a book, From Sabang to Merauke: Debunking the Myth of Indonesian Nationalism.
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