Do MPR members have weak legs?

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?