Indonesian independence: It is all in the name

Indonesian independence: It is all in the name

Teuku Faizasyah, Department of Political Science and Public Policy,
University of Waikato, Hamilton, New Zealand

What is in a name? asked Shakespeare. Although knowing that
each name is unique and carries its own meaning, a phone call
from a friend Alamsyah on Aug. 17 struck me how meaningful his
name is.

When he wished Indonesia a happy Independence Day, I initially
thought he was simply trying to soothe his homesickness.

However, I eventually realized how meaningful Indonesia's
Independence Day was for him. It is his name, he said, that
attaches him emotionally with Independence Day. His late father
Abdul Salam gave him the name Alamsyah to praise God for His
blessing in granting Indonesians legitimate freedom.

Abdul Salam is an ordinary Indonesian name. But Abdul Salam
spent 17 years of his life in the notorious political prison of
Boven Digul in Irian Jaya. And, as narrated by Alamsyah, Abdul
Salam's cellmate, at one time, was Bung Hatta, one of the
country's founding fathers.

When the Japanese invaded the archipelago, his father and some
other "Digulis" escaped to Australia. After Sukarno and Mohammad
Hatta declared independence in 1945, Abdul Salam was among the
first Indonesians to return home from Australia. He returned to
his hometown, Surakarta (Sala), and started a new life as a
chemist. He was no longer interested in politics after his long
years of imprisonment in Digul.

For me, the Digul affair seems part of the distant past.
Maybe, I thought, I am just like most Indonesians, who in the
eyes of novelist Pramudya Ananta Toer, happen to have a short
memory.

When Alamsyah asked me what independence meant to me, it took
me a while before asking back, instead of responding, what it
meant to him.

In his lengthy answer he said independence provides
Indonesians with the opportunity to enhance their quality of
humanism. He also opined that with their freedom from oppression,
Indonesians are now blessed with a greater chance to enrich their
knowledge and soul.

After 57 years of independence, are we more humane? If our
quality of humanism has increased over the years, how come we
have allowed our fellow citizens in Maluku and Poso, Central
Sulawesi, for instance, to become trapped in a cycle of hatred?

Once, my history teacher said that Indonesians of different
ethnic groups, religious backgrounds, social strata and walks of
life were all united in defending independence from the Dutch
military incursion. Why does it seem very difficult nowadays to
see our diversity as a unifying force? What went wrong with our
nation-building? Can we convincingly say that Indonesia is one
nation and no longer an "imagined community" as suggested by
scholar Benedict Anderson?

Have we benefited from independence to enrich our knowledge
and heart? Perhaps we have been too busy enriching ourselves, and
in the process our hearts have hardened. It seems we have
difficulty empathizing with the suffering of those at the bottom
of our society.

The declaration of independence was pronounced after our
founding fathers found that Japan had surrendered to the Allied
Forces. Hence, while we know that knowledge is power, many
Indonesians today remain unable to acquire even basic knowledge
and education. And since the 1997 financial crisis, many of our
children have not been able to afford basic education, not to
mention tertiary education, which is still a luxury for most
Indonesians.

Does materialism obsess us? Perhaps we are lacking a role
model who could show us how dignified being modest is. In today's
Indonesia, we are nobody unless we are wearing brand name
clothes, driving a luxury car and being extravagant. No wonder
the first thing our politicians discuss is how to increase their
income.

On the phone, I tried to impress Alamsyah with a positive note
about Indonesia's state of affairs, but I am not sure whether I
was successful or not. Having spent more than 20 years of his
life in New Zealand does not mean Alamsyah is ignorant about the
realities back home. He informs himself of the news in Indonesia
on the Internet and discusses the news with Indonesian students
in Hamilton.

Although I did not answer his question on the phone, I did say
to him that I have faith that Indonesians will strive for the
best and that the nation will survive. Being colonized for more
than 300 years did not stop our forefathers from hoping that one
day they would be masters of their own home and destiny.

However, our forefathers, just like Abdul Salam, did not stop
hoping and dreaming. They had tried at all costs to win
independence and they were successful.

I also shared my similar belief that Indonesia's younger
generation would always hope and give their utmost to rebuild the
nation, even if it takes a generation to achieve this vision.

That evening I went to bed with the question: What does
independence really mean to me? It might help if I had a name
related to the birth of our nation, but in any case, Alamsyah had
already provoked me with the thought that perhaps my generation
might also be interested in finding the answer.