{
    "success": true,
    "data": {
        "id": 1538043,
        "msgid": "looking-for-riots-in-all-the-wrong-places-1447893297",
        "date": "1997-05-25 00:00:00",
        "title": "Looking for riots in all the wrong places",
        "author": null,
        "source": "JP",
        "tags": null,
        "topic": null,
        "summary": "Looking for riots in all the wrong places By Dini S. Djalal PEKALONGAN, Central Java (JP): The street was peaceful. Uniformed schoolgirls in jilbab (Moslem headdress) giggled as they drank green soda from a street vendor. A man cycled past, balancing a pile of tin boxes on his bicycle. Some women sat in front of their two-room houses, chatting about local gossip. Faced with this slice of small town slumber, I asked myself that most charming of journalists' questions: \"This is it?",
        "content": "<p>Looking for riots in all the wrong places<\/p>\n<p>By Dini S. Djalal<\/p>\n<p>PEKALONGAN, Central Java (JP): The street was peaceful.<br>\nUniformed schoolgirls in jilbab (Moslem headdress) giggled as<br>\nthey drank green soda from a street vendor. A man cycled past,<br>\nbalancing a pile of tin boxes on his bicycle. Some women sat in<br>\nfront of their two-room houses, chatting about local gossip.<\/p>\n<p>Faced with this slice of small town slumber, I asked myself<br>\nthat most charming of journalists' questions: \"This is it? This<br>\nis the political hotspot? Where's all the rock throwing?\".<\/p>\n<p>The man running our hotel, a relic filled with \"modern\"<br>\nappliances likely assembled around the time the word \"modern\"<br>\nentered the English language, said: \"Well, it was quiet today,<br>\nand yesterday. We did have some trouble from the campaigners a<br>\nfew days ago. And before that. And maybe later today. But we hope<br>\nnot. Are you a reporter? Are you looking to find a riot?\".<\/p>\n<p>Well, actually, yes, and yes. It's election campaign time in<br>\nIndonesia, and we're in Pekalongan, Central Java, site of recent<br>\nclashes. And as much as we advocate world peace and human rights,<br>\nnewspapers and TV love upheavals and disasters, manmade or<br>\nnatural. It's one of those unavoidable pacts with the devil,<br>\ninsensitivity brewed by bitterness. We disapprove of the<br>\ntragedies we write about, but we need the tragedies to occur so<br>\nwe can protest about why they happen.<\/p>\n<p>We drove out to this United Development Party (PPP) stronghold<br>\nfrom Jakarta, going through the West Java countryside before<br>\ndetouring to the North Coast. We had debated between coming here<br>\nor Temanggung, also another missed hotspot in Central Java. It<br>\nwas a long, bumpy ride. For 10 hours, our Kijang, seemingly<br>\nmonstrous amid Jakarta's luxury sedans, had to dodge mammoth-<br>\nwheeled buses and trucks zig-zagging the pothole-friendly road.<br>\nBut passenger discomfort was a trifling detail compared to the<br>\ncampaign excitement Pekalongan seemed to promise.<\/p>\n<p>But this is politics, world of empty promises. And we were<br>\njournalists looking for trouble -- little did we know, in all the<br>\nwrong places. In Bogor, we passed a car plastered with Megawati<br>\nposters. How quaint of little Bogor to display such rebellion, I<br>\nthought as we drove out of the city. The next day, the papers<br>\nreported that a thousand pro-Megawati Indonesian Democratic Party<br>\n(PDI) rallied through Bogor at 2 p.m., or precisely a half hour<br>\nafter we left town.<\/p>\n<p>It wasn't my first time missing the boat. On the first day of<br>\ncampaigning, I drove for two hours around East Jakarta (West<br>\nJava, actually, that's how far it was) looking for a rally led by<br>\nRhoma Irama, the dangdut king-turned-parliamentarian. Rhoma's<br>\nsecretary said Bambu Apus, but could not specify exactly where.<br>\nEventually, I found a small gathering of yellow shirts huddled<br>\naround a candidate I've never heard of. Later that afternoon, a<br>\ncolleague said the Rhoma rally, attended by thousands, was just<br>\n10 minutes down the road.<\/p>\n<p>I'm not alone in my fruitless search for a story. The day<br>\nafter the clashes on Jl. Matraman, Central Jakarta, camera crews<br>\nsat patiently at the same spot waiting for a follow-up outbreak.<br>\nConversation between local journalists this month has been<br>\ndominated by the following exchange: \"Did you see that fight at<br>\nfill-in-blank?\", \"Nope, got there too late\". Anticipating<br>\nviolence is callous, but missing it means the tragedy goes<br>\nuntold. It may be hard-hearted, but photographed brutality<br>\narouses compassion more than a third-person account.<\/p>\n<p>Clueless<\/p>\n<p>So why has so much campaigning, and particularly the violence,<br>\ngone undocumented? Part of the problem is disorganization within<br>\nthe parties, which seem as out of the loop with campaign rally<br>\nschedules as we are. By accident or design, the mechanism just<br>\nisn't there to provide journalists with accurate information.<\/p>\n<p>Fortified with editors' demands but no clue, what's a<br>\nfoolhardy reporter to do? Buy a map, stare at it for hours and<br>\nguess where the action will take place. Election reporting this<br>\nyear is like playing the boardgame Clue; half the task is<br>\nfiguring out the mystery they call campaign itineraries. And with<br>\nsupposedly 200 foreign journalists in town covering this<br>\n\"democracy festival\", competition to get that hot story is rife.<\/p>\n<p>So while many people this month avoid the campaigns,<br>\ncomplaining of traffic gridlock, hawkers jamming the markets with<br>\nparty paraphernalia, and the chore of puncturing a small piece of<br>\npaper with so-called political aspirations, journalists are<br>\nworking overtime looking for \"color\". And they don't just mean<br>\nthe ubiquitous yellows, reds, and greens, of the rival parties.<br>\nThe election waits for no one, least of all those who want to<br>\nlead normal lives. Lunch is hurried before the convoys begin and<br>\ndinner rushed between deadlines, even when there's not much to<br>\nwrite about.<\/p>\n<p>But then again, the story depends on the writer. Later that<br>\nafternoon in Pekalongan, we returned to Buaran, the suburb where<br>\nthe riots took place. On the same street so quiet earlier,<br>\nconvoys roared to go. Masses were gathered in front of buildings<br>\ncovered in green paint and white stars, and the few yellow shops<br>\nvandalized in March by angry mobs protesting a planned concert by<br>\nRhoma Irama, once a PPP supporter, now a Golkar member.<\/p>\n<p>The people on the sidewalk were cheering the youths cruising<br>\nthe mile-long road in their beat-up Hondas. But at the top of the<br>\nroad were two trucks full of riot police armed with machine guns<br>\nand grenades. Some soldiers directed the chaotic traffic, others<br>\njust stood with grim expressions. They looked disapprovingly at a<br>\ncameraman filming the commotion.<\/p>\n<p>Some PPP supporters said that trouble would brew not at the<br>\nrallies, but when they would leave for home. They talked of tear<br>\ngas, arrests, physical clashes. On the day we were filming, the<br>\nfriction did not break into violence. But it didn't matter.<br>\nFortunately for the people, we missed a riot, but not the tension<br>\nthat riots stem from. No blood was shed to tell the story, but<br>\nthe guns, even unfired, painted a clear picture.<\/p>",
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