Amidst screaming headlines, the tabloids are recreating political culture
John Olle
Politics always comes to us mediated, transformed, and interpreted through the mass media. It is not unusual that the media should be partisan. Under the New Order, 'reading between the lines' was an essential skill to understand anything approximating reality as most people saw it. This skill is even more necessary in the euphoria of press freedom since the fall of Suharto. If previously the skill needed was to fill in the gaps for yourself, now you need a healthy scepticism and access to a variety of media in order to estimate what to discount and what to pay attention to.
One of the most striking aspects of the current wave of press freedom has been the growth in the number of new publications. Since Suharto's resignation, the Ministry of Information has approved almost 1000 new permits. This is in addition to the 200-300 existing ones under the New Order. Much of this press explosion consists of politically oriented tabloids produced weekly, available at a cheap price and with a mass distribution network (often supported by an existing daily). Such tabloids often claim to report the 'news behind the news', full of 'scenarios', conspiracy theories, sensational language, accusations and counter-accusations.
The first to appear in the early post-Suharto days was DeTak. This was in fact a reappearance, being a reincarnation of DeTik closed down by the New Order in 1994 together with Tempo and Editor. Although its circulation is now smaller than newer, cheaper and more sensational tabloids, DeTak relies on a reputation for quality journalism. Competition is intense and tabloids without an established reputation, a captive market, or some kind of special characteristic ('ciri khas') have little hope of surviving.
A major 'special effect' is to be as sensational as possible. This tendency is prominent in the cheaper tabloids such as Oposisi and Bangkit, which appeared respectively in August and October 1998. Bangkit, entering the market at only Rp1000, became an immediate hit with its prominent white on black background headlines announcing such things as: 'WATCH OUT - THE NEXT 40 DAYS RIOTS EVERYWHERE' ('AWAS 40 HARI INI RUSUH DI MANA-MANA'), or 'RAPED... and for heaven's sake... their livers EATEN RAW' ('DIPERKOSA dan astaga... hati mereka DIMAKAN MENTAH-MENTAH'). Bangkit is part of the Kompas media group. Through its regional newspaper network, the Kompas group has also established several regional political tabloids including Kontras (Aceh), Demo (Palembang), Bebas (Banjarmasin), and Vokal (Yogyakarta). The latter is aimed largely at students and takes a more educated approach.
Oposisi, from the rival Jawa Pos group, appears to be more conscious of its mission ('critical and on the side of truth' is its slogan) rather than just chasing sensation for the sake of it. Judging from its circulation figures, which are always sensitive to price rises, Oposisi is probably the most popular political tabloid at the moment.
Other political tabloids with a national scope include Realitas (associated with Surya Paloh's Media Indonesia group), Tokoh (mostly interviews with public figures), Siaga (established by Golkar figure Eki Syachrudin), Berita Keadilan (focussing on the law and published by the same company that produces the PDI-P tabloid Demokrat ) and Perspektif. Many others have national pretensions but are really only regional in scope. This includes Format and Mimbar Demokrasi from Semarang, Gaung Demokrasi in Jakarta and West Java, Penta (Jakarta), Asasi (Aceh), and Opini (Solo). There are no doubt many more.
Although political tabloids flood the market, and more seem to appear every day, the public is gradually becoming bored with a diet of pure politics. The established tabloids are diversifying into other fields such as crime, mysticism, entertainment, and sex in order to maintain sales.
Bangkit and Oposisi have not been averse to including fortune telling (ramalan) and mystical stories, especially if a political connection can be found. Posmo (also Jawa Pos) combines politics, alternative medicine, and mysticism. Selling at the rather high price of Rp1500 it remains the most popular of the politically related tabloids in Yogyakarta. No one seems concerned whether the predictions of future bloodletting come true or not (most don't). The main factor in their popularity is their entertainment value.
The Jawa Pos group also produces Gugat, which focusses on politics and sex-related crime. It will soon give birth to another more 'specific' tabloid provisionally named Karmasutra. SkandaL, another new tabloid more distantly related to the Jawa Pos group, has the slogan 'sex, money, power'.
Islamic
Other tabloids have a more 'Islamic' slant. Adil was originally resuscitated by the ICMI newspaper Republika. It is now independent and fairly objective in its approach. Not so the newer Republika tabloid Tekad, which seems to have a great deal of trouble in its approach to reformasi, unable to decide whether it should be attacking or defending the governing party Golkar and the military. Along with the smaller Islamic party tabloids, Tekad now prefers to focus its attention on the disagreeable aspects of Megawati's PDI-Perjuangan.
The range and diversity of tabloids available indicates the great diversity of political opinion and cultural orientation previously hidden but never extinguished under the monolithic New Order. These differences are more clearly seen in the tabloid press than in the dailies.
During the election campaign the tabloids gave a clear picture of the battle between different political discourses in Indonesia. The battle mainly revolves around the definition of the words 'reformasi' and 'Islam'. On the one hand, the more popular, business-oriented and less ideological mainstream tabloids still promote the struggle of 'reformasi versus status-quo', terms promoted by the opposition parties PAN, PKB and PDI-P in order to defeat Golkar.
The trouble is that the meaning of reformasi or status quo has never been clearly stated even by the opposition parties. The 'reformist' party with the largest vote, Megawati's PDI-P, has not emphasised opposition to the military's involvement in politics, nor does it clearly support amendments to the constitution or bringing Suharto to justice, all demands of the reformasi movement that brought down Suharto. Besides that, all the supposedly reformist parties (particularly PDI-P) have within them many major ex-New Order figures, not all of whom have a record of opposing Suharto and the New Order.
On the other hand, Tekad and the smaller Islamic tabloids promote a long running and previously 'underground' discourse of 'Islam versus sekular'. At the present time this discourse has the political implication of supporting Habibie as a 'representative of Islam', in distinction to Megawati and the PDI-P who are accused variously of promoting secularism, syncretism, Christianisation or communism.
The problem here is that the word 'Islam' is also in contention. Both Abdurrahman Wahid, the leader of Indonesia's largest Muslim organisation Nahdatul Ulama, and Amien Rais, the leader of Muhammadiyah (and of the reformist party PAN) are both 'pro-reformasi' and opposed to Habibie. It is also clear that Megawati's PDI-P received many more Muslim votes than any other party. Many saw the 'Islam vs sekular' discourse as simply promoting the interests of Habibie. In any case, who can really hope to represent 'Islam' when even the representative organisations can not often agree, as shown by the conflict over whether a woman may become president?
Most voters accept the reformasi/ status quo division rather than the Islam/ secular division. But there will be an on-going battle over the meaning of reformasi and the extent of 'openness'. As the tabloids not only 'open up' politics but also publish what is interpreted in Indonesia as 'pornography', protest over the trend has arisen.
Post-Suharto
Does reformasi mean a more public acceptance of 'Islamic values', or does it mean an acceptance of other supposedly 'western' values besides democracy, human rights, and so on? Or something in between? Or neither? It would be misleading to see this as simply a battle between Islam and a 'western style' reformasi. When the tabloid press depicts the extremes of discourse it is not only chasing sales but is engaged in a process of defining the limits of a post-Suharto field of politics and culture. In following the media principle that negative stories have greater news value, they succeed in 'stretching' the discourse in different and often conflicting directions to see how far it will go. It is no accident that the largest selling tabloids are those that emphasise conflict, use the most sensational language or provide the most graphic photos.
Although New Order press laws are still officially in force, real control seems to be left to the media proprietors themselves, or to the community. In this respect Indonesia is beginning to resemble other democratic countries. It remains to be seen whether the new discourses will serve to maintain that democratic environment or not.
John Olle (john_olle@mailcity.com) is a PhD student at Deakin University in Melbourne, Australia.
Inside Indonesia 60: Oct-Dec 1999
In Jakarta and Yogyakarta, the election brought renewing hope
Laine Berman
From a distance we heard the deafening roar of scooters, shouting voices, the honking of horns and blaring music, all under the pale yellow-grey blanket of exhaust emissions which already hung heavily in Jakarta's morning sky. We approached Jalan Thamrin with apprehension, caused by terrifying memories of previous election campaigns. In 1992 in Yogya I witnessed the naked violence and widespread fear of Indonesian street campaigns: the threatening spectacle of scooters with no mufflers, their 'ninja' drivers and menacing passengers with sticks in hand ready to use on any bystander who failed to raise the appropriate hand signal. This was Jakarta, it was day one of the campaigns, and I was scared.
The first day of campaigning was the only one when all 48 parties were permitted to march. 'Experts' of all kinds predicted riots. But from the moment we reached Jalan Thamrin and began the hike south to the Hotel Indonesia roundabout, all my concerns disappeared. Instead of open intimidation, we had a celebration. Vehicles from one party happily gave way to the next. Buses carried flags from many parties under the banner 'Bis Koalisi'. People helped each other. Whereas in 1992 Chinese bystanders were harassed for 'petrol money', now they too were visibly relieved and joined the throngs on the roadsides. When we finally reached the roundabout, the carnival atmosphere was in full swing with acrobats, clowns, floats, colourful banners, and a great deal of good cheer. Jakartans had beaten the odds, confounded the 'experts', and enjoyed themselves immensely to boot!
In Jakarta and in Yogyakarta the campaign and the election itself went surprisingly well. Very few incidents marred the festivities. On June 7th, in my kampung in central Yogyakarta, men sat in the shade of the fruit trees in my front yard discussing politics. They joked about the old days before reformasi, when nobody bothered to vote yet the kampung tally still showed full participation for Golkar. Now things were different. Men of all ages were enjoying the atmosphere, while women lined up to vote first. 'Women shouldn't have to stand in the heat', the men said as they stepped aside to let the women through. The process was long. It took over an hour from queuing up to casting the three ballots to confirming their legitimacy to staining a finger in ink (meant to prevent double voting). No one complained. Everyone seemed to enjoy the experience and the chance to discuss it all with neighbours.
For weeks prior to this day, TV, radio, and all print media educated the nation on the voting process. Each night speakers from the different parties were introduced through open debates and speeches. Immediately upon Suharto's resignation, the talk show format seemed to have taken over evening TV. Now there were discussions of election topics, reviews of party platforms, training videos, guest speakers, and viewer call-ins. Through TV videos, advertisements, posters, pamphlets, and print media cartoons, the nation was assured that this election was unlike all the previous ones.
Women's voice
People were taught to recognise various ways of cheating, and to reject gender bias by assuring women that their votes were personal and very important. Women make up over half the electorate. Media campaigns incessantly told them that 'for the first time, we do have a voice. Women will determine the nation's future!' TV ads assured women that their vote was secret and should be cast for the party that best supported women's issues. Disappointingly, no one I asked knew of such a party.
Other ad campaigns encouraged voters to follow their own preference and conviction and not just follow husbands, village heads, or religious leaders. Yet others warned of 'politik bayaran' or vote buying. They actually encouraged people to take the money but vote according to their preference. As the day approached and for weeks afterward, the media campaigns shifted. Now, the nation was encouraged to accept the outcome as free and fair, regardless of who won. Scenes showed friends and family fighting over differences of opinion, then pointed out how wasteful such arguments were.
No one doubted the significance of this election. Everyone in my kampung said how important they felt personally. While most agreed that no candidate stood out as a true leader, all felt confident that Indonesia was finally on the mend. After the polls closed, as many people as the hall could fit took part in the counting. Many kept their own tallies. During three days of counting, the crowds in the hall and those hanging around outside never abated. Nor did their enthusiasm and desire to be part of the great occasion. Fathers led me to the window of the hall to point to their sons and daughters and with great pride said: 'That's my child, an election monitor!'
During the long counting process, each ballot paper was read out aloud. Each one was greeted by a flurry of comments: cheers (Megawati's PDI-P), boos (Golkar), laughter (the youthful PRD). Any discrepancy was carefully checked. On the night of June 7 and for the rest of the week, kampung celebrations were visible all over town. Men gathered in roadside party huts ('posko') to shave their heads and/or to cook dog meat stew, both common ways of giving thanks and celebrating a blessing. Their reasons were numerous. 'No, I didn't vote for Mega, but that doesn't matter. What is important is that the election was a success.' 'We are celebrating the new era for Indonesia.' 'We are celebrating because Golkar is finished.' 'We don't care who wins as long as it is clean.' 'Yes, it will take a long time to clean up Suharto's mess, but we have already begun!'
The only people who remained cynical and had no inked finger (alias they didn't vote, saying they were 'Golput') were the older generation of Yogya activists. These were the university students who had helped Muchtar Pakpahan create the labour union SBSI, had helped Megawati rise in the PDI and later to form PDI-P, and had helped Amien Rais form his PAN, among others. Before Suharto's fall they had pitched in to write their platforms, and organised their rallies and protests. Many of them had now graduated (or dropped out) and are working for non-government organisations. They felt they knew the candidates too well. They were too familiar with their flaws to vote for them.
Open minds
All in all, the changes Indonesia has experienced (in some places) since 21 May 1998 are phenomenal. In just over one year a wave of openness has flooded into the media, the streets, the kampungs, the campuses, and people's minds. Rather than blindly follow provocateurs, people are beginning to feel their responsibility in the future shape of the nation. They question the motives of troublemakers.
The group of men I sat with as they waited for the women to vote talked about their roles in preventing corruption and in ensuring the next president really does represent the people. The idealism I witnessed was touching, if not a bit naive. Indonesia has a long way to go before the effects of oppression, social inequality, and institutionalised violence subside. At least in the kampungs of Yogyakarta and Jakarta, the 'little people' are ready to face the changes. Let's hope both the old and the new generation of leaders can do the same.
Laine Berman is a research fellow in the Centre for Cross-Cultural Research, Australian National University.
Inside Indonesia 60: Oct-Dec 1999
Fifty years ago, Indonesian nationalism was open to the world
Goenawan Mohamad
On 29 July 1949, a Dakota aircraft crashed near Maguwo, Yogyakarta, killing three officers of the Republic of Indonesia Air Force. A civilian aircraft, on a flight from New Delhi, it was carrying medical supplies donated by the Republic of India to the Republic of Indonesia. Its broken fuselage still bore the letters 'VT-CLA'. Reports suggested the Dakota had been pursued and shot down by fighter planes of the Royal Netherlands Air Force, which controlled the northern part of Java.
A youth of 17 visited the crash site. He was not a photographer, but he wanted to record what had happened. He was a painter, and he made a drawing of what was left of the plane, hoping that it would stand as a witness: a civilian aircraft shot down without compunction by Dutch troops intent on using military might to take back control of Indonesia.
Now, in 1999, that young man is recognised as one of Indonesia's foremost painters, Srihadi Sudarsono. But it has taken 50 years, until his first exhibition at the Lontar Gallery in Jakarta last week, for Srihadi's priceless collection of drawings of the battles and negotiations of the revolution to become widely known. Not all of his work has survived. Most of it in fact was lost in a fire that destroyed one of the buildings which played a key role in the events of the revolution. But at the Lontar Gallery I was privileged to see not only the remains of the Dakota, but also the figure of a guerilla fighter riding on a train, a group of Dutch soldiers ransacking a private home in Solo, the face of Bung Karno, the face of Moh. Roem, and a group of foreign diplomats at Kaliurang, Yogya, people who - thanks to the UN - were trying to deal with the problems that arose with the end of colonialism in Indonesia.
Indonesia 1949, Indonesia 1999. Srihadi himself is maybe unaware of this, but someone looking at his drawings will easily pick up on a difference, a depressing contrast between then and now.
Half a century ago, the outside world - together with a young and vigorous UN - came to the aid of Indonesia, a weakling in the face of overwhelming odds. Now all we hear is pointed criticism from the rest of the world, directed at a big and brutal Indonesia intent on destroying little Timor Leste (and failing in the effort).
Indonesia then, Indonesia now. A half century ago the leaders of the Indonesian Republic noted with conviction and emotion in the preamble to their new constitution: 'Whereas freedom is the right of all nations...'. They stood firm in their belief that freedom was a right that everyone had to recognise because it was one expression of universal values. Now we only ever hear the phrase recited with indifference. For the last 40 years, the leaders of Indonesia have tried to proclaim that there is no such thing as universal values. We cannot be measured by 'Western' standards, they cry. We have our own democracy, we are unique, you know, you must understand Javanese culture, Asian values.... It's as though for oppressed peoples there is some essential difference between Indonesian military cruelties and, say, the tyranny of the Portuguese.
The crash of a Dakota aircraft carrying medical supplies from the outside world. A number of foreign faces at a meeting in Kaliurang. In Srihadi's 1946 drawings there is no implication in the way foreigners are drawn that they are something to be feared, something weird or distant from ourselves. When he makes a drawing, Srihadi doesn't only record an event. As a soldier who knows what a war of independence means, he also records an attitude. In the lines of his drawings, we can sense that the Indonesian revolution - and Indonesian nationalism - contained no suspicion of the 'outside', was not closed to what was 'foreign'.
From Srihadi we learn that the Indonesian revolution was not something 'inward looking', the kind of revolution that could emerge from, for example, the ideology and actions of the Khmer Rouge when they went about building a republic in Cambodia. Srihadi's record of events shows that even in the midst of its war of independence, Indonesia was an open book. The outside world came and looked, and skinny little Indonesia stood up boldly before it.
On a street wall in Jakarta, around November 1945, the young independence fighters wrote in large letters, in English: 'Give me liberty or give me death'. They were not addressing Indonesians themselves. The words were those of Patrick Henry, an American, spoken in the face of British colonialism in the 18th century. By quoting them, the young Indonesians seemed to want to remind the outside world: the voice of an American patriot in the 18th century is the same as the voices of Indonesian patriots in 1945.
How eloquent they were, how different from the gun-bearing, speechless wearers of safari suits we see all around us now. The outside world had to be convinced, because we were right. There was nothing that needed to be covered up, because we had no cause to be ashamed. Just like the conviction of the revolutionary troops of the 1940s who mobilised painters like Srihadi: they wanted to make a record of events, even if only in painting, at a time when they didn't own cameras. They didn't want to lose the traces of where they had stood. They were not thieves. They were making a history, one that also has meaning for people in a different place, at a different time, in a new millenium.
Goenawan Mohamad is a poet and senior journalist. This article appeared in Tempo magazine, 10 October 1999. It was translated, with permission from the author, by Keith Foulcher (keith.foulcher@asia.su.edu.au).
Inside Indonesia 61: Jan - Mar 2000
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