Exploring the meaning of reconciliation

Exploring the meaning of reconciliation

By Degung Santikarma

DENPASAR, Bali (JP): Rekonsiliasi(reconciliation): perhaps no
other word in Indonesia's political vocabulary has become so
loaded with meaning and importance. But at the same time, perhaps
no other word has created quite as much confusion as to what,
exactly, it might mean when translated into practice. Even in
Bali, where new words -- like turis, kargo, komisi (tourist,
cargo, commission) and "guide" - are being imported regularly,
the term for reconciliation has met with multiple and conflicting
interpretations.

"Reconciliation means understanding our past and correcting
the lies in the history books," said one university student, deep
in discussion with his friends at a Denpasar campus food stall.

"Reconciliation means prosecuting those responsible for
corruption and crimes violating human rights," said another
student.

"No, reconciliation means forgiving people so we can build a
new Indonesia," said yet another. "Reconciliation means peace,"
said the owner of the food stall in between pouring cups of
strong, sweet coffee for his young patrons. "It means lots of
money, lots of tourists and no more violence."

Fueled by their conversation and fed by a deep desire to help
bring about some kind of political change in Bali, these
students, along with human rights activists and non-governmental
organization (NGO) workers, have organized themselves into an
informal group to try and understand some of the more traumatic
events in Bali's past.

They have been especially concerned with collecting data on
exactly what happened during some of Bali's darkest days, between
November 1965 and February 1966, when, according to estimates by
scholars, approximately 80,000 Balinese, or 5 percent of the
island's population, were killed.

During this violent era in Bali's history, military and
paramilitary groups roamed the island, detaining and killing
those suspected of having links to the communist party. By the
time the bloodshed ended, thousands of Balinese villages and
families were torn apart, and Soeharto's New Order government was
firmly in place.

But as the students trying to investigate history are finding
out, it is not only the prospects for reconciliation and the
shape of Bali's future that are open to debate, but the truth of
the past and its meaning in the everyday lives of the Balinese.

Last week, one of the students, with questionnaire in hand,
paid a visit to an extended family household near Denpasar, where
he had heard a number of people were killed in 1965.

It was mid-afternoon, and the house was busy with work, play,
and gossip. A group of middle-aged women sat in an open-air
pavilion, weaving palm fronds and sorting flower petals for
religious offerings, while children back from school ran in
circles around the packed dirt yard of the compound. A television
blared the heart-wrenching sounds of sobs and confessions of love
from the afternoon soap operas, as several old grandfathers dozed
off in their chairs.

After greeting those gathered, the student asked if he could
speak to the man of the house. With a look of wariness, the women
informed him that they were all widows. But as he pulled out his
stack of papers, their faces relaxed.

"Oh, you must be here for the census," one guessed. "Or maybe
you're here to sign us up for family planning," an elderly woman
joked. "You must be here to give us some free samples of
detergent or instant noodles," yet another suggested hopefully.

But when the student answered politely that he was there to
gather some information about the past, about what had happened
to their family in 1965, the bustle of activity suddenly froze.

"I'm sorry, but we're trying to find out what happened so that
we can have a reconciliation in Bali," the student explained.

With tears trickling down her face, one of the older women
responded, "For me, reconciliation would mean people stop making
an issue of the past. My husband has already become a dewa (a
divine ancestor). He's already at God's side. Even though we
never found his body, I had a small ceremony for him, to help his
soul leave this suffering world. Please, just let him be." But as
she turned her head away, another woman began to speak.

"According to village gossip, my husband was a communist
sympathizer. It's true, he did once join a small savings and
lending cooperative that the other farmers had started because
they could not afford the fees charged by the local money
lenders.

"But I myself don't believe in that label, a communist. I know
my husband was killed because right before his death, he tried to
stop one of the thugs in the village from beating his wife. My
husband was told he was interfering with another man's affairs
and he should mind his own business. A week later, my husband was
gone. Maybe this commission could help restore my husband's good
name."

The student then asked the women if they would be willing to
fill out questionnaires documenting the victims of 1965. The
women's hands shook as they wrote their husbands' names and dates
of death or disappearance.

"I'm always afraid when I have to fill out forms," said one of
the women, explaining how the bureaucracy of the New Order
government required people to list all the family members of
those killed in 1965, and how those relatives of the victims were
considered by the state to be politically "unclean environment".

They were then blocked from obtaining other necessary
documents, such as a letter certifying one was free of
involvement in the events of 1965 which is needed to obtain a
passport, a university scholarship or a job in the vast
bureaucracy of the government.

Thanking the women for their help, the student moved on to his
next destination, the house of a man he had heard was jailed for
several years after the violence of 1965. Approaching the house,
with its newly renovated exterior and a luxury sedan parked in
the driveway, it was clear that the owner was someone of
considerable wealth. After being led through a heavy wooden front
door, the student greeted a heavyset, graying man, and explained
the purpose of his visit. But the response he received was an
angry tirade.

"Why do we need reconciliation?" the man shouted. "That will
only open up old wounds. I've already tried to forget about all
that. Why do we need to go back to a time of conflict, a time of
blood? Bali has changed. This is the era of tourism, the era of
business. I'm not interested in politics anymore." He asked the
students to please leave. "Look for someone else to talk to," he
suggested.

But despite the difficulties they face in gathering
information, the students have not given up their search for the
truth and their hopes of reconciliation. Instead, they have
learned an important lesson: that history is made up of many
truths and reconciliation can take many forms.