Do MPR members have weak legs?

By Mochtar Buchori

JAKARTA (JP): I understand more clearly now than ever the meaning of the Dutch proverb which says Het zijn sterke benen die de weelde kunnen dragen. "It is only strong legs that can bear the weight of luxuries."

To illustrate this point take the case of members of the Indonesian House of Representatives. Becoming a member of the House brings with it a number of benefits that for new members like myself are real luxuries.

The moment you put your House sticker on your windshield, hang your badge around your neck and put your parliament insignia on the left lapel of your jacket, you are bound to enjoy special privileges.

Arriving at the House complex, by the time you reach the main gate the security guards in dark blue uniforms have snapped to attention and saluted. When one of them hands your driver a free parking ticket, he says, "Good day, Sir." When you step out of your car, another guard opens the door for you, salutes, and again says, "Good day, Sir."

Then you go to your private office and again you will experience more luxury. The office is completely furnished and the furniture is brand new. The size of your room depends on your position within the House. I am just an ordinary member, and yet my office consists of two sections, the smaller, outer part for my secretary and the larger, inner part for myself. My secretary is a government employee -- a male, mind you -- provided by the House. I don't have to pay a single rupiah for his services.

The view from the office is nice, especially if it is located on one of the higher floors. Mine is on the eighth floor, and the view of Jakarta from my office is very pleasant. I see only high- rise buildings and wealthy residential areas. I don't see any sign of those crowded, filthy kampongs and other traces of poverty, which in real life occupy large parts of Jakarta. Here, I feel the first corrupting effect of the privileges I enjoy as a member of the House. My physical surroundings blunt my perception and my conscience about poverty in Jakarta, and in the whole country.

The accumulation of all these small privileges distorts your perception about the real world outside the House. The words "people's aspirations" become increasingly less meaningful, while the criteria for democracy become less clear-cut. And when "flexibility" has become the main principle for achieving political victory and organizational survival, it no longer matters whether you are promoting or blocking democracy. The main thing is that at the end you achieve victory and survive, and for this purpose you have to be flexible. Don't take the democracy in this building too seriously.

And later, after you begin to enjoy the bigger privileges, I think that things will become more confusing. They say that these bigger privileges include housing facilities, an office car, a subsidy of Rp 30 million to buy your second car and a monthly allowance of somewhere around Rp 6 million. In addition you receive rice, 10 kg a month for each member of your family (up to a maximum of 50 kg for each member of the House.) You also got free medical services, including a yearly checkup. If the results of the checkup shows that you need further medical attention, then all the medications and treatments prescribed by your doctor(s) will be provided free of charge. In case you become seriously ill you will get free hospital treatment in one of the finest hospitals in Jakarta.

Isn't this wonderful? All these luxuries are nothing, of course, for members of the House who have come from the business community or who have already accumulated wealth from their previous services with the government. But for people like me whose regular monthly income is less than Rp 800,000 (which is my monthly retirement pension), Rp 6 million is a lot of money. Life becomes much easier, and for a moment I feel like a king. Why? Because these luxuries tend to create within you the feeling that, like kings, you are living separately from the ordinary people. All these facilities create a distance between you and the people you are supposed to represent. You slowly forget that you are in this House thanks to the people who have elected you and put their trust in you.

There are still other, less direct, privileges that may reinforce this feeling of being separated from the people. If you happen to speak English reasonably well, and are sufficiently conversant about several topics, you are bound to receive invitations from foreign diplomats, foundation people, business people or journalists. All the wining and dining with these foreign people takes place in pleasant surroundings. And all these conversations that take place in diplomatic, journalistic or academic modes may increasingly make you forget that you are still part of this nearly bankrupt, undemocratic and unruly country.

You may also increasingly forget that your job as a member of the House of Representatives is primarily to take the nation out of its miserable condition, and launch it toward a more humane one. The primary obligation of House members is, in my view, not to help the party score a momentary political victory, but to reduce and ultimately eliminate the inequalities that have made the majority of the people in Indonesia suffer. Concentrating solely on achieving victory for the party and sacrificing the basic principles of democracy is tantamount to betraying the nation.

How can one guard oneself against the corrupting effects of all the luxuries that are granted to members of the House? How can one remain close to the feelings and aspirations of the people, in spite of the physical separation and distance?

People say that the recesses between House sessions are opportunities created to narrow whatever psychological gap may have come between members of the House and their constituencies. Does this system work? I don't know! Since I have never been a member of the House before, I have no experience whatsoever in this regard.

In my view, though, ignoring or denying the feelings and aspirations of the ordinary people comes from a lack of empathy. And I don't think that empathy can be created by mere physical visits to where ordinary people live. Empathy is a matter of sharing values. If you commit yourself to values that are similar to those of the people, you are bound to appreciate their feelings and share their aspirations. No amount of facilities and privileges will make you alienated from the people.

Members of the Assembly, who, after the bloody demonstrations just outside the House still do not know or pretend not to know what the people want are, in my opinion, living in a world that is different from the world of the ordinary people.

Who do they really represent? Or, referring to the Dutch proverb I cited above: Are their legs so weak?