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.