#living1965

On the 30th of September, Indonesia always meets its dark, unresolved history in the past that keeps haunting in the present. Although slow and often facing dead ends, memory workers and human rights activists keep the conversations and discourses about 1965 alive. This year is the 51st anniversary of the Indonesian genocide. We interviewed Ayu Diasti Rahmawati, a lecturer from Yogyakarta.

Ayu is part of a young generation of Indonesia who used to consider 1965 as something that had no connection with her. A spark in her intellectual journey brought her to a deeper quest about 1965. In her exploration, she found dark traces of her beloved grandfather. Something that she thought so distant turned out to be very close to her. The following is an interview with her conducted by Sari Safitri Mohan.

When was the first time you knew about the history of 1965 different from the New Order’s propaganda?

I knew it when I finished my undergraduate study and during my graduate study. I took a course on peace studies when I was an undergrad and then I worked as the tutor. One of the course materials was about dealing with the past. One of the pasts we talked about was 1965. Every semester we always screened Lexy (Rambadeta)’s film, Mass Grave, which is blatant enough to inform us about 1965. But at that time I saw it as a detached reality from me. 1965 was just an episode in Indonesian history that I thought had nothing to do with me. I also hadn’t consciously tried to search about my history.

In a way, if I think about it again, it’s kind of funny. As a tutor, I helped students to better understand the course material. Some of them even made videos about 1965, and I connected them with my grandfather, an army general, whom I considered a witness of the 1965 history. It’s interesting that, as a major general, his view on 1965 was not black and white. When he answered my friends’ questions, he sounded knowledgeable and could argue well and coherently about Marxism. He could describe elaborately about why Marxism was not applicable in Indonesia by explaining the basis of Marx’s thinkings, materialism, or that religion is the opium of the people. Later I learned that it was a wrong interpretation of Marxism. So, my grandfather was not the type who would accuse right away that, “PKI is wrong!” but he could argue on the ideological level. During my undergraduate years, I was not exposed to books that discussed 1965 in a different way from New Order propaganda. So the knowledge about 1965 is just something that is passed by. My grandfather also had acceptable logical and coherent reasons about why the tragedy occurred. So I didn’t ask further.

When I became a graduate student in America, I initially wanted to learn about refugees. Until one day, there’s a course that studied about Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC). The professor asked me: “How about Indonesia? Many people died, right? About 500 thousand to one million. What about Munir?” I never knew about numbers before. The questions from my professor made me curious to find out. What’s interesting was, the course had a final exam where I had to write an MOU that regulated the rights and obligations of a TRC in Indonesia, how it defined crimes, source of funds, management, and etcetera. Because of this intricate and comprehensive final exam, inevitably, I had to do a thorough research. I had to know numbers, what things that had occurred, and the political dynamics, so that I could figure out what kind of TRC format fit for Indonesia. And at this point, I read many things that gradually felt like I just opened a Pandora’s box. At about the same time, Joshua Oppenheimer’s movie, The Act of Killing, was just released. I met people who guided my search. I can say that the search finally defined my graduate study.

At this point, after I knew a lot more throughout 2011-2012, I was wondering about a thing before going home to Indonesia to do research: It was impossible if my family had nothing to do with all this. So, from the search in cognitive level, for academic purpose, my search veered into personal territory.

There were things in my life that I could not find the answers right away. For instance, my mother told me that in the ‘60s, there were times when my grandfather had to give some codes to his family if he needed to go home. They lived in a military barrack in Magelang, which was supposed to be a safe space. Why did he have to give codes to my mother? I also often read books in his workspace at home. In one of the bookshelves, there were books about Mao, Bung Karno’s writings, Tan Malaka, etcetera. “What is this?” was the only thing that crossed my mind at that time.

Fast forward in the ‘90s. I used to live in Bengkulu. My grandfather and his friends had a plantation business there. My dad worked there. When Suharto was toppled, people who lived around the plantation came and demanded their property back and burned the land. Because of this, I moved to Yogya. In a way, this was an unanswered, questionable displacement for me. Why did those people came and burn everything? Why were they so angry and caused me to move to Yogya to start things all over again? There was no answer then.

When I learned about 1965, everything was gradually connected. Knowing that my grandfather was an army general, I had a feeling that he was involved. And I knew later that there were many “red”, communist, groups in Magelang, including the military. It explained why my grandfather had to take over the leadership of the battalion because the commander was red. And of course, after that, my grandfather’s career went uphill, as were the cases with his fellow army officers.

I braved myself to find out about the whereabouts of my grandfather at that time. His name was listed on a website of one battalion as its first commander and his involvement with the anti-communist purge in 1965 was his accomplishment. It made me think about how far he was involved. I also read many books and found the facts about land grabs by the military troops after 1965 that reminded me of my bad experience in 1999 in Bengkulu that forced me to move to Yogyakarta. I was wondering perhaps they were angry because of the land grabbing.

And then I was searching for the data of the plantation and asked my mother. It turned out that the area was indeed a red region. So, the dots were connected. I thought: OK, my grandfather was involved in 1965, and he had a great career since then just like his friends. In the ‘80s, there was a military disunity between those pro and against Suharto. My grandfather was the latter because it had become clear that Suharto was corrupt. My grandfather was supposed to be sent away as an ambassador, but he didn’t want it, and he finally chose to retire early. His friends with longer careers than him invited him to co-own the business plantation I mentioned earlier, on the lands already “owned by the state” where parts of them were from post-1965 land grabs. It had become the root of latent conflicts. The locals always felt that the land was theirs. That’s why when Suharto was not in power anymore; they seized their lands back. They took what they used to have as violently as when the lands taken from them. I witnessed this in 1999 and felt that I was a victim. At this point, I realized that my searching process resulted in something that’s more than just knowing the fact that my grandfather is wrong. I could see how the unsolved tribulations in 1965 had become the setting of violence in 1999.

My grandfather’s role in 1965 was confirmed when I went home to Indonesia for research. He told me that he accepted a list from the Regional Military Command, the Kodam Diponegoro, that contained people’s names to be captured. These people had to be brought to Kodam Diponegoro in Semarang. I asked my grandfather about it in January 2013, when he was already in poor health: “Do you feel guilty?” He was silent for quite a while before finally answered: “But I didn’t kill anyone.” In May 2013, he passed away before I finished my study. That talk became one of our last conversations.

How did you feel when your grandfather answered your question?

My grandfather and I were very close, we were best friends. Imagine your best friend came to you one day and told you one of his buried secrets. The secret was filled with violent memories that had made him nervous, because of feeling guilty and being afraid to be judged at the same time. That’s how I felt about the atmosphere, when I asked my question, and I saw his face changed into sadness. I knew for sure that deep down he was regretful.

What can I do? Of course I could not and didn’t want to keep a distance after I knew what he had done. But I also cannot turn a blind eye to his experience of violence. His honesty is actually what’s been motivating me to work so that the same violence will not be repeated, so that there’s no humanity wrenched – both of victims and perpetrators. I really want to apologize on behalf of my grandfather’s name to all that have experienced violence from the hands of the state or military since 1965. I know that this is not much, and bears no meaning compared to the sufferings that have already happened but I do hope that an apology in individual level could be a start of something meaningful for reconciliation. I know that my grandfather will do the same.

How have the discussions been in your family after you graduated and went back to Indonesia with new knowledge about the events of 1965?

I come from a military family, but there are some who became victims in 1965. This has influenced my mother and my sister to actively learn and read about 1965. There are family members who to this day still question why I studied abroad to learn about 1965. I don’t have any problem with this. If anything, it informs me about how I should go on with my activism about 1965.
So far, excluding my mother, this is my family’s attitude on 1965: we know about it, but do not discuss it.

How do you reflect on your activism on 1965?

If we agree that the state discourse about 1965 has become a hegemony, maybe we are too naive to ask an institution as large as state to apologize. Hegemony occurs when it rules our psyche unconsciously. It is represented in many social institutions and accepted as daily practice without people aware of it. The 1965 discourse has permeated through many forms, from religion, family, education, and etcetera. The discourse has already been too hegemonic, so that on an operational level, when an institution as enormous as state is demanded to apologize about 1965, it could ask back: “What are we apologizing for?” and the discussion would not go anywhere.
What we can do to make this move a forward is by “attacking” that hegemony from all sides. Facilitate a discussion? Ok. Symposium? Ok. Create a website? Ok. Hold an International People’s Tribunal on 1965 (IPT 65)? Ok. But don’t forget about small things too, classrooms for instance. What is taught in the classroom has an effect. Using spaces provided by campuses to explore alternative discourses is equally important. So, perhaps activism on 1965 can start with things seemingly small but plentiful and diverse.

Also, perhaps because peace studies is my academic background, I try to understand that it is really not easy to make people who used to have an all-out conflict with each other to reconcile. Just look at the U.S.A, South Africa, or North Ireland now. There have been peace processes but people still live with prejudices because of the difference of the skin colors, of different religions, or of different political preferences, until now. So, if we want to reconcile, search for truth or justice, perhaps we need to not only talk about the first generation, but also next generations who have been exposed to stereotypes and prejudices and things that perpetuate the violence. That is why, in my opinion, the effort to find solutions about 1965 has to prepare the audience, who are the second and third generation, with sufficient understanding about human rights, peace, and non-violence concepts, so when they are asked to participate in discussions about 1965, they are going to be ready.

Who do you think is supposed to do this groundwork?

Campuses. As a chain breaker of violence, campuses have a vital role. Because on the campus level, the third generation can be introduced to social justice, solidarity, emancipation, human rights, and peace.

How about outside of campus? Who do you think is able to do it?

Anybody. What I’m trying to say is, if we want to discuss about 1965 solutions, it’s not enough to encourage only about the search for truth. There have to be spaces where people are educated to respect the importance of searching for truth. As an example, searching for truth is important to uphold human rights, and then how to train journalists to cover human rights violations. This is vital. And this work cannot be reduced by certain keywords. The work towards reconciliation, truth, and justice has to be done collectively. I consider my job as a lecturer parallel to activism because every time I get the chance, I try to talk and discuss 1965.

What are main challenges in finalizing the 1965 case?

We all want to reconciliation – but what is it? We don’t have an agreed framework. Some have said that reconciliation means sitting together and then apologize to each other. Others sy apologizing has to come together with reparation. And then others say that for the second and third generation, the reparative side of reconciliation is not a top priority anymore. How people imagine reconciliation depends on how they preserve memories. I talked to a former member of Lekra, The Institute for People’s Culture, who knew everything about the organization’s ideology. He said that reconciliation is not just about reparation. But when I asked Klaten farmers about it, they gave me a different answer. For them, reconciliation has to do with raising their economic status. At this level, perhaps we need to talk not only about the truth of 1965, but also about these varied expectations on reconciliation.

And then about memory: which memory we should recognize. When we talk about mass violence, it was always preceded by dehumanization: certain persons are the enemy and have no right to live; which is why they need to be annihilated. But perhaps reconciliation is not only about finding out how they were dehumanized, but also about returning human-ness by recognizing their previous lives. Many 1965 survivors were captured because of their brilliant ideas. In my observation, the discussions about 1965 often revolve around topics on what happened during and after 1965, how violence occurred, or how victims were tortured. These are important issues to talk about, but to be able to make the second and third generations think about how we have lost something so valuable, we need to know who the victims were before 1965. Some of them were teachers that had brilliant ideas about education in Indonesia. The victims of 1965 were actually the first literate generation of Indonesia. They were students, teachers, doctors, lawyers, first lecturers in Indonesia. Imagine how precious they were. But the way we discuss 1965 is still to the extent of what and how their rights were violated. We haven’t reflected yet on what we have lost.

The framework of truth is a dichotomy of victims and perpetrators. But don’t forget about those who cannot be put in those categories, about those people who were not directly involved but nonetheless affected because of the hegemony of dominant discourse, or because they are relatives of 1965 victims. I think that there still are insufficient initiatives that reach out to this group.

Finally, reconciliation processes depends on one’s capability to be open, inclusive, and to think critically. If an effort to encourage reconciliation is separate from the initiatives that support openness, inclusivity, the understanding of human rights, or critical thinking, it’s going to be a difficult process. Because we will always face the denial of the masses that do not have desires, or perhaps capabilities, to process new information.

In your opinion, why are efforts to remember 1965 – through film screenings or discussions as examples – sometimes dismissed or even met with raids?

When the discourse of reconciliation is released, the second and third generations are those at stake. They have been living with their prejudices. Knowing what happened in the past needs a long process of contemplation about their experiences. Every raid has its masses. Why are these still popular? Well, perhaps because they have spent their lives in the context provided and built by the New Order. They don’t see 1965 as a political conflict but they put it in a narrative of good versus evil. Such an approach is supported by the fact that many people don’t know about it, or aware of it but choose to ignore it when a raid occurs.

What do we have now as an asset to move forward about 1965?

​First of all, I think we have tech-savvy and enthusiastic young people. Also, our elites now are busy with their own problems. We can take an advantage from this rupture. As long as we know how to do activism while paying attention to a not-too-stern frame on the topics of 1965, we can utilize those to our benefits. The focus should be more on how to make a movement that can give solutions to 1965 problems that are not only owned by or concerning with just victims and perpetrators, but owned by and involving every Indonesian. It is because we have lost too much. Not only people or family members but also humanity, practices, values, even alternative ideas about how to manage this country.

#living1965 #1965setiaphari
Sari Safitri Mohan

These two men are my grandfathers. Djauhar Arifin Santosa is my mother’s father, and Boentardjo Amaroen is my father’s father. They knew each other long before my parents got married – maybe since the Independence War. D. A. Santosa was a member of PETA (Defenders of the Homeland), the Volunteer Army, and Boentardjo was a guerilla fighter in the Klaten area under the leadership of Dr.  Tjokronegoro. Following Independence, D. A. Santosa and Boentardjo did not pursue a career in the army, but became Taman Siswa teachers (Students’ Garden, a Javanese educational movement).

In 1965, they were captured in the same month, November 1965. D.A. Santosa was held in Semarang, tried in Cilacap and sentenced to twenty years imprisonment. Boentardjo was held in Wirogunan, Yogyakarta, and never returned after he disappeared sometime between February and April 1966.

Their freedom was taken because they were accused of rebelling against the lawful government. Subsequently that government was overthrown because it was said to be involved in the events of 1965. There is no logical reason for what happened during the 1965 Tragedy and afterwards.

I am telling the story of D. A. Santosa and Boentardjo Amaroen because history can never be concealed. Because I want them to be here, in my life, with my family and my friends. And because they are my grandfathers.

Danang Sutasoma
#1965setiaphari #living1965