Carmel set to keep on contributing

Carmel set to keep on contributing

By Helly Minarti

LONDON (JP): Few of us have had the privilege of witnessing a
vital part of history taking place, and not many of the few who
do manage to survive to see the tables turn. British-born Carmel
Budiardjo, founder of Tahanan Politik (political prisoners,
Tapol), is one of the few caught in the middle of the most
turbulent times in Indonesian modern history in the mid 1960s and
lived to see things change.

Married to Suwondo Budiardjo, an Indonesian, Carmel moved to
Indonesian and took out citizenship. She was arrested in 1968 and
imprisoned for three years without trial because of her so-called
links to the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI), of which she was
never a member.

"That really changed my life. I became a human rights activist
not because I studied human rights theoretically. It's very much
because I was a victim," she said rather emotionally. After such
long years in oblivion --she was arrested in 1968, three years
after the Sept. 30 abortive coup -- during which her British
family and friends tried many ways to obtain her release, she was
finally given her freedom in 1971. Because her British
citizenship had been reinstated, she was forced to leave
Indonesia.

"I felt I had a very, very strong moral obligation in a way --
I had to be careful not to use it -- it was like as if I had
betrayed the other women (that stayed)," she said. "Of course, I
discussed it with some other women in prison, that I felt rather
mean to leave. Should I do this ... and they said, 'yeah, go...
go ... go, tell our stories. It's not a courageous thing to
stay'."

So she left for England in November 1971, leaving behind her
husband, who remained imprisoned for another seven years. Back in
London, she established Tapol in 1973. The organization was
initially set up to campaign for the release of political
prisoners in Indonesia, but it later expanded to deal with any
human rights violation in the country.

Since then Tapol has been engaged in campaigns concerning the
East Timor issue, Aceh and many other cases related to human
rights violations. In a recent letter to President Abdurrahman
Wahid, the organization appealed to him to settle the bloody
incidents of Tanjung Priok in 1984 and of Lampung in 1987.

Politics has never really been far from Carmel's life. Born to
a Jewish family in 1925, Carmel had been always drawn to student
political activities. After finishing her studies she attended
several international student conferences. Among them was one
which took place in Prague in 1946. A year later she got a job at
the secretariat of the International Union of Students (IUS),
where she met an Asian crowd and was soon drawn to a small circle
of Indonesian students. "I don't know why (in her book she said
that she really enjoyed their relaxed and sociable manner). But
it was my turning point, when I got to know Indonesians," she
said.

Carmel fell in love with one of them, Suwondo Budiardjo, whom
she married in 1950. Two years later she and their eldest
daughter, Tari, moved to Jakarta, following Budiardjo. In
Jakarta, Carmel soon settled in, first as a translator for Antara
news agency, and later as a researcher at the foreign ministry.
She later attended the University of Indonesia and obtained a
master's degree in economics. From there she embarked on a
teaching career.

In her spare time, Carmel helped translate documents for the
PKI, an activity that later brought her under suspicion in regard
to her possible involvement in the 1965 coup attempt.

"Why I was close to them? I don't know. My political
preferences have always been very left-wing. I was particularly
attracted by the PNI (Indonesian National Party)."

During her years in prison, unlike many other Indonesian women
prisoners whose experiences she witnessed, Carmel did not go
through any physical torture except a series of interrogations,
which is etched in her mind as a haunting experience at the hands
of a soldier named Atjep.

"Thanks for reminding me of his name. I was trying to
remember it last night," she said, casually. "I don't feel
revengeful. But I do think he should be tried for very, very
serious crime -- if he is still alive."

She also has no regrets that some of her activities were often
cynically viewed by the former Indonesia's government, which
stamped her "the anti-Indonesia activist". When she contributed
to John Pilger's film Death of A Nation: The Timor Conspiracy, it
was deemed by one critic in this newspaper as providing "loony
literature" on Indonesia. "I was one of his main sources for his
film on East Timor, and I think Pilger made a good and powerful
film," said Carmel firmly.

In her memoirs, Surviving Indonesia's Gulag (recently
translated into bahasa Indonesia), Carmel records not only the
hardships she endured behind bars, but also relates the stories
of other Indonesian prisoners who went through a much rougher
time and ends it with the hope "that I live long enough to
celebrate his (Soeharto) downfall and demise, and to see the
creation of a democratic Indonesia".

Now that the wish has come true, Carmel surprisingly fell
silent when asked how she felt about it, taking quite a moment
to cautiously arrange her words. "I think it was something great
to celebrate. I kept this newspaper -- I think it was The Jakarta
Post's I QUIT headline (short laugh).

"Yes, I think this is, well, a huge relief for almost
everybody," she said rather flatly. "But personally, for me
Soeharto's major crimes are not so much corruption, (but) the
crime against humanity that started right back in 1965, (which)
made everything possible (for him)."

Her husband was released in 1978 and soon after followed her
to Britain. But the couple later split up. "I think the prison
experience has broken up a lot of families. In some cases it
brings you together, in others it pulls you apart," she pondered.
"After my release, I came to Britain and I became very much
preoccupied with human rights. And I think when he came here, our
relationship was already very loose by then. But it's also
because I was running this organization and it was very difficult
for him to fit into this. He just wanted a completely different
world of his own."

Even in the era of reform, Carmel's name remains on a
blacklist, barring her entry into Indonesia. She wrote to Gus
Dur, as the Indonesian President is popularly called and who she
hopes will bring good changes to Indonesia, appealing to him to
have her name removed from the blacklist. "I would like to do
three things when I visit Indonesia. First, to meet all my prison
mates. I'm always getting messages from them.

"Second, to meet the present generations, activists, people
who are young enough to be my grandchildren with whom I have a
lot of links because I had for quite a few years been exchanging
information. Third, to meet my husband's family."

Now, in her mid 70s, Carmel Budiardjo shows neither the
frailty nor vulnerability of a person her age, except for a
hearing aid. She moves swiftly around her South London house from
where she also runs Tapol with four others.

"This is what keeps me going, fit and reasonably healthy
because I think I've got a lot to do. And I think I'll go on
contributing," said the mother of two and grandmother of four,
none of whom live in Indonesia anymore.