Tributes to Herb Feith

Extracts from some of the many that passed across the editor's desk in November 2001.

To me, Herb was a friend, teacher, and hero of humanity. Although I often read his books before writing journalistic essays, I first met him in the mid 1980s. We became close when I began studies at The University of Melbourne in 1999. I often felt he was 'more Javanese' than I, although I come from central Java. As a teacher, he taught me the meaning of truth, honesty, and justice in understanding Indonesian politics. More importantly, Herb is a hero of humanity. To borrow Sidney Hook's phrase, Herb was 'the eventful man whose actions are the consequences of outstanding capacities of intelligence, will, and character rather than of accidents of position'. He dedicated most of his life to develop the spirit of humanity with a strong character, peace, and sincerity. May God bless and reward him in heaven!

I remember once asking Herb during a long walk along the creek in Glen Iris at a more than usually bleak time in Indonesian politics how it was he had never returned to the themes of his great work on The Decline of Constitutional Democracy in Indonesia to write on a comparable scale about what then seemed to be the unending New Order. It was clear that there were in fact all sorts of reasons, but his answer then was 'I suppose I didn't think I could bring myself to be fair to the army'. I have to confess that it is a measure of the great difference in the quality of scholarship between us that my own small work suffered from no such qualms. It was also a remarkably honest and decent self-assessment.

I believe he gave an ethical quality to the whole Indonesia/ Australia (or north-south, as we would now say) relationship which made it seem perfectly right that we were as committed to this project as they were. The huge and growing differences of wealth, education, perspective seemed minor in the light of his self-forgetting passion. Of course these differences weren't really minor, and most of us couldn't really overcome them especially in later years. But I am sure that whenever I was in 'the field' I had the model of Herb in my brain as the way it morally could and should be done. The world has changed, and we all with it. Herb's passing has made this change final in a fearsome way. I wasn't ready. I'll probably never be ready.

Herb Feith was a rare human being. Rare in the 'exemplary' sense. Except when I thought, and think, of Herb, I do not believe that people actually would and could, do everything they preach. There again, was another unique quality of Herb's. He had so much to preach, yet he never did. Not verbally. He showed by example. And everyone noticed, though very few achieved the high standard he set. There was no doubt his expressed or implied teachings were received, because in Herb's presence most people would try to 'behave', that is, not to come across as extravagant and wasteful, not to be caught bad-mouthing other people; instead, strive to be modest, oozing of goodwill, and think before uttering anything meaningless.

As soon as I ended my 'period of asceticism as a political prisoner' for thirteen years and one month without process of law, and had signed the agreement promising among others not to sue the New Order government for what they had done to me, only a month later Herb sought me out in Jakarta. He hugged me tightly and whispered 'it's OK, you're still healthy and you can start work again, and I'll help you as I can.' He was so happy when he heard that the late Oyik Satyagraha Hoerip and brother Aristides Katoppo took me on as a translator, editor and review writer at Pustaka Sinar Harapan. I said to Herb, I am stupid, my brain is empty after not being allowed to read anything for thirteen years, except the Bible. After that Herb always sent me reading matter by various Indonesia experts.

His bike was a recurring symbol throughout the funeral service. He was killed when riding it. He had made sure that every Australian volunteer in the 1950s had one when they arrived in Indonesia. He used to dink his son to kindergarten through the snow when they lived at Cornell University. He collected his grandchildren from school in Melbourne on his bike. The world was his oyster. Apart from its ubiquity as a form of his mobility, it was depicted as an indication of his frugality. All his life he gave away his resources; his needs were simple. When Betty first met Herb he was 16 and spending all of his spare time going from door to door in Melbourne to collect money for victims of World War II in Europe.

The last time we met, a few weeks ago in Yogya, we were in such a general agreement on how the chauvinistic American way of defending its open society strengthened warlords in Afghanistan, and extremists as well as conservative and even military forces elsewhere, at the expense of human rights and democracy activists, that we could almost instantly turn to other matters - such as to the need to reconsider the pros and cons of Indonesia's democracy in the 50's, and the ways in which it was undermined by people and forces that later on put the blame on democracy as such.

At Monash during the Vietnam war Herb caused a stir when invited to speak at a graduation the day before a Vietnam Moratorium march. He completed his speech on the history of the war by urging everyone to take part in the Moratorium march the following day. The Chancellor rushed to dissociate himself, saying Herb's views were a private matter, but he won a round of thunderous applause from the students present. Herb always had great concern for his students both in Australia and in Indonesia and was a great networker. But his strong principles meant he was banned from going into Indonesia for a time due to his criticism of the Suharto regime. He was one of those few distinguished Indonesianists who never became one of the so-called 'Indonesia lobby' who kept quiet about human rights violations in order to keep getting their research visas.