From: John MacDougall <apakabar@access.digex.net>
Subject: IN: JKB - Pramoedya's Magsaysay Speech
To: apakabar@clark.net
Subject: Re: Pramoedya's Speech
From: jkb@nusa.or.id (Jaringan Kerja Budaya)
Date: Mon, 04 Sep 95 19:15:44 WIB
LITERATURE, CENSORSHIP AND THE STATE:
HOW DANGEROUS ARE STORIES?
by PRAMOEDYA ANANTA TOER
1995 Ramon Magsaysay Awardee
for Journalism, Literature and Creative Communication
Translated by MARIANNE KATOPPO
First Indonesian ASEAN SEAWrite awardee
I am an Indonesian citizen, an ethnic Javanese. This destined me
to be brought up in an environment that was permeated with
Javanese literature dominated by the wayang tradition. This
tradition related the Mahabharata and the Ramayana to us in the
Javanese version, although the essence remained wholly Hindu.
Without our being immediately aware of it, this tradition
glorified the upper -- or ksatrya -- class, whereas the lower
castes were completely ignored. The main preoccupation of the
ksatrya is to murder its foes. Apart from this, dominant wayang
literature is the babad literature that extols the virtues of the
ksatriya class. Through the creative talents of the court poets,
the evil rule of the kings, of their defeat, was transformed into
glorious myths.
A good example of this tendency to transform evil and defeat into
myths of glorification is that of Nyai Rara Kidul, the Queen of
the South. In fact, it came into being at the time of the defeat
of Sultan Agung against the "Batavia" of the Dutch invaders in
the second half of the seventeenth century. After Mataram lost
its hegemony over the Java Sea -- an important international sea
route, the Javanese court poets created the myth of the sea
goddess, Nyai Rara Kidul, as absolute ruler of the (South) Sea,
being the Indian Ocean. This myth in turn brought forth other
myths, e.g. that each king of Mataran was the consort of the
Queen of the South. Another related myth prohibited the wearing
of green on the shores of the South Sea. This was in order to
erase any possible association with the green uniform of the
colonial Dutch East Indian Company, the "Kompeni". Very subtly,
the court poets thus made the Queen of the South a manifestation
of the power of the kings of Mataram. The goddess, originally an
authochtone benevolent nature deity, became a kind of "spiritual
police officer" of the Mataram people.
Here we are confronted with literature in connection with the
State, literature used by the State with the purpose of
glorifying its own class. Handed down from generation to
generation, the ultimate result was to deny the progress of the
people and to burden people unnessecarily with an imaginary past,
leading people to think that a glorious past is always better
than the present. When I realized this, I immediately abandoned
this type of literature completely.
When I thus left the literature that was conceived in the lap of
power, the literature that was brought forth to uphold this
power, I came across the "entertainment literature": pipe dreams
of primordial glories. Macchiaveli states that such literature is
also an indirect tool of the powers-that-be to ensure that people
are not interested in the power of the State. In other words, to
guarantee that people are not politicized, that they are not
interested in politics.
Literature of this second category turns people into stagnant
pools -- fossils. Coming from a family of freedom fighters; I
will indulge myself in openly expressing my dislike of this
second group. Although I was not immediately conscious of this,
my preference goes to the kind of literature that inspires
courage, imbibes new values, presents a new way of perceiving the
world, enhances the dignity of the human person, and takes as its
main focus of interest the role of the individual as a principal
actor in the history of humankind. If in the second group
aesthetics focused on language and its uses, we see that in the
third group there is a definite shift in orientation.
Each work of literature is necessarily the autobiography of its
author, at a certain level and in a specific situation. Hence it
is also an individual project -- an individual contribution to
the collective. It reflects the individual stance of the writer
with regard to the reigning power, the prevalent cultural values,
etc. The task of the writer is to evaluate and continue to
reevaluate all aspects of life. Very often, the writer feels
discontented, even cornered, and oppressed by the powers-that-be
and the prevailing norm. The writer cries out, puts up a
resistance, and might even rebel.
It is not a coincidence that writers -- of course, those of the
third kind -- are called opponents, rebels and even instigators
of revolutions, crying out in the silent wilderness.
In countries that have enjoyed centuries of democratic life, to
lose or to win in the encounter of ideas is only natural. This is
not to say that democracy is without any flaws. Consider Europe,
which behaves so democratically within its own borders and yet
does not behave democratically at all outside, as the history of
colonialism and present economic policy will show us. As a
result, those former colonies who never practiced the democratic
virtue of fair play on the encounter of ideas may manifest long-
standing resentment as a result of the traditional concept about
private esteem and patriarchal submissiveness.
In Indonesia, the practice of censoring literary works became
known only in the second decade of this century. And in
accordance with the traditional rule of law, any sanctions
against say alleged indiscretions of the press were duly
prosecuted in a court of law. The prohibition of the distribution
of some of Mas Marco Kartodikromo's literary works deviated from
tradition insofar as it was done out of court and by local
indigenous officers. Some of my own father's works were also
banned and confiscated, but these were not literary works. They
were the textbooks for primary school that did not conform to the
colonial system's curriculum.
The censorship on literary works was indeed an exception. For
centuries the maritime kingdoms were invaded by Western powers,
forcing them to withdraw inland. They turned into interior
kingdoms of agricultural villages where the feudal system was
nourished mainly by farmers; thus, a new mentality was born, far
inferior to that of the maritime kingdoms. The Javanese poets
affirmed the tepo seliro (knowing one's place) culture, where one
knew one's position in the social hierarchy, from the local level
up to the highest echelons of power. The usage of euphemisms
(kromo, in Javanese) developed into an intricate system of
language, having seven different levels. This reflects how
stunted the traditional culture had become. We wil see that in
Javanese literature there has never been any authentic evaluation
or reevaluation. Such an evaluation can only be done in the
Indonesian language, which, when necessary, can deny all
euphemisms. Hence, it is only with regard to literature in the
Indonesian language that censorship is practiced. The ideas that
stream in from over the whole wide world into modern Indonesian
society at the end of this twentieth century can in no way be
stopped by those powers that refuse to grow up. To enable the
powers-that-be to continue their peaceful slumber, the
institution of censorship is indeed necessary. Yet the time of
progress keeps in coming. The island of Java has been destined to
have an excellent geographic location. Of all the islands in the
Indonesian archipelago. Java was the one that developed most on
account of supportive climatological factors.
It is not a coincidence that the Dutch made Java the center of
their Empire. After the Dutch left Indonesia, Java remained the
center of Indonesia with the majority of the Indonesian dwelling
there. It was impossible to prevent certain elements of the
traditional feudal system from being introduced into the way the
country was governed. In the traditional Javanese culture, the
strongest element is that of the tepo seliro, which in the
present may be translated as "self-censorship". It appears that
the power elite is reluctant to use the original terminology. By
naming it "self-censorship", it assumes the aspect of modernity,
thus concealing the inherent atavism. My personal preference is
to classify the literature of the third kind into the category of
the avant-garde. I consider the writers in this group to be
persons of moral courage who continue to evaluate and to
reevaluate literature and power. And as an individual, a private
person, the writer has to be able to withstand the kickback from
those who feel that their creativity is threatened.
So the question is: To what extent can literature endanger the
safety of the State? In my personal opinion, no literary oeuvre
(in this case, stories) can ever be a threat to any state. The
stories are written with proper attribution to the author; it is
clear where the story originates, and it is also clear that the
story is the product of one person, an individual without any
private army, secret police, nor hired assasins. The writer is
only relating the story of life, how life can be lived to the
fullest, by continous growth and by overcoming those patterns
that are stultifying, obsolete, and irrelevant. Having said this,
I must state the obvious, which is that every state can undergo a
fundamental change, completely changing its system of governance,
with or without avant-garde literature. We have seen such changes
in Indonesian history: the shift from liberal democracy to guided
democracy and later on, Panca Sila democracy, after the fall of
the Dutch colonial empire and the Japanese occupation. In the era
of liberal democracy, the foundation of the State, of course, was
the Panca Sila; however, it appeared to be rather neglected.
During the era of Guided Democracy, President Soekarno wanted to
maintain independence at all costs in order to constrain the
superpowers in their Cold War. He made an effort to avoid being
involved in this Cold War, and Panca Sila was much more central
than in the previous era. Soekarno was the person who helped the
Indonesian people to recover their cultural and spiritual
identity in the legacy of Panca Sila. He never tried to
explaining that Panca Sila was in fact gleamed from the San Min
Chui of Sun Yat-sen, the Declaration of Independence of the
United States, and other important political declarations with
regard to social justice. During the era of Panca Sila democracy,
which was marked by a process of de-Soekarnoization, we see that
the tenets of Panca Sila are rarely mentioned, and there have
even been efforts of historians of the New Order who postulate
that Soekarno was not instrumental in giving Panca Sila to the
Indonesian people.
In all three eras, we do not find any work of literature that has
really proven to be responsible for social change. In fact, we
cannot speak of any avant-garde literature so far. If any
existed, it happened under the Japanese occupation, a rebellion
which was equal to the oppression.
I am referring to the poet Chairil Anwar with his poem "Aku" (I),
which states, "Aku ini binatang jalang/dari kumpulannya terbuang"
(I am a wild beast/Torn from the herd).
He refused to be treated as a domesticated animal from the
Japanese, one who only strove to obey the Japanese orders; he
fore himself away from the herd. He had to pay dearly for his
proud statement. The Kempeitai, the Japanese secret police,
arrested and tortured him. True, he was subsequently released.
The irony of all this is that the very people who often read this
poem and profess to like it have never had the benefit of able
literary critics who can enlighten them as to how to truly
appreciate this poem. The link with the Japanese occupation,
i.e., that the was speaking up against a specific type of
military oppression when he wrote this poem, is rarely brought to
the attention of the public.
Forgive me for confining myself to Indonesian literature. Mindful
of its history, it appears that Indonesia is in great need of
avant-garde writers. For centuries the grassroots have been
nourishing the feudal overlords. When Western colonialism reigned
supreme, this meant that they also had support the colonial
system. And although feudalism as a system has been obliterated
by the Proclamation of Independence on 17 August 1945, its
cultural elements are still discernible; in fact, there are
thosein power who strive to preserve them. The avant-garde
literature offers evaluation, reevaluation, renewal, and, of
course to bear responsibility for one's own deeds. Here it
becomes clear that a story, a literary oeuvre, can in no way
endanger the State, which may change its foundation or system at
any given moment. At best, it disturbs the peaceful slumber of
those who dream of power without end.
I myself, although the scion of a family of freedom fighters in
the fifty years of our independence, have been deprived of my
personal freedom for thirty-three and a half years. Two and a
half years were seized by the Dutch, nearly one year was taken by
the military during the old regime (1961), and thirty years under
the present government, of which fourteen years were spent in a
penal colony on the island of Buru and sixteen years as a
detainee outside of the physical prison walls. The code "E.T."
(meaning Ex Tapol, i.e., "former political prisoner") ensured
that all doors were closed to me.
As a writer, of course, I rebel against this reality. In my
works, I therefore try to tell stories about certain phases in
the journey of this nation whilst grappling with the question,
"How could this people become like this?"
The fact that most of my works are not allowed to circulate in my
own country does not concern me very much. These prohibitions in
fact make my works more valuable.
Maybe there are some who wonder why to me literature is closely
linked to politics. In my view, the life of each individual in
relation to society, and especially in relation to the nation, is
always closely related to politics. The fact that one accepts,
rejects or affirms one's citizenship indicates a political
attitude. The fact that one raises one's national flag indicates
a political attitude. The fact that one pays taxes indicates
submission to the authorities, hence it shows that one is
obedient politically. So, too, literature cannot be divorced from
politics since this literature itself is born of humankind. As
long as there is a social system and a power that controls it or
abuses it, each individual will be a political animal. The
ancient Greeks were already aware of it and so are we.
Somehow, at one time, the notion was born that politics is dirty,
therefore literature has to be divorced from politics. If some
things are dirty, for sure there are other things that are clean.
This notion of separating literature from politics, in fact,
originates from those writers whose attitude is that of not
involving themselves with politics. Politics cannot be just
understood in the framework of certain political parties.
Politics are all those aspects that are related to power. As long
as there is a human society, there will be the exercise of power
by one human person, or a group of human persons, over others
regardless of whether it brings about good or evil, whether it is
clean or dirty.
The literature that "rejects" politics, that professes to be
wholly apolitical, is obviously produced by those writers who
have found a comfortable niche in the halls of power. While those
who call for progress and justice, even if they have to wonder
through a lonely wilderness of rejection and misunderstanding,
continue to tell their stories -- a vision of the world as a
place where all can stand and keep their hands high and live in
full humanity.
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