JP/24/W02

JP/24/W02

'Grabbed' at the creation

It must have been either in late 1982 or early 1983 that Jusuf
Wanandi, one of the founders of the Center for Strategic and
International Studies (CSIS), started talking about the need to
publish an English-language newspaper in Indonesia.

I was used to Jusuf's exuberance in venting his bubbling ideas
that could range from the Middle East situation, disarmament
issues, regional issues of Southeast Asia to problems of
Indonesia's economic development.

As he raised the idea of a new English-language newspaper and
started explaining why Indonesia needed such a quality
publication in order to inform about the dynamics of its domestic
situation to neighboring countries where English was predominant,
he threw some inquisitive glances in my direction.

I had the uneasy feeling that he wanted me to get involved in
what I then considered to be a dubious experiment. There were
already two English-language newspapers - the Indonesia Times and
the Indonesian Observer - and obviously the market was limited.

However, Jusuf explained to me that a number of already
established media publishing firms would take part. These were
Kompas/PT Gramedia, Tempo newsweekly/PT Graffiti Pers and Nawala
Nusantara Bangsa, which at that time was related to the Suara
Karya newspaper.

He also informed me that the government, through information
minister Ali Moertopo, who was closely connected to CSIS, had
already given its approval, since it was also the government's
opinion that Indonesia needed a quality media outlet in the
English language as a vehicle of information for the neighboring
countries that at one time were either part of the British empire
or administered by the United States.

Indonesia, on the other hand, which was formerly the
Netherlands East Indies, was a colony of the Kingdom of the
Netherlands, and the Dutch language used to be the official
medium of communication. Until the late 1950s there were still
schools using Dutch in the major cities of Indonesia. I
attended a Dutch senior high school in Jakarta, so I learned
English from Dutch teachers.

Finally, one day Jusuf Wanandi asked me directly if I would
accept the post of chief editor of the English-language newspaper
that was to be published. I gave an evasive answer and asked for
time to consider his proposal. My position at that time with the
afternoon newspaper Sinar Harapan, which in 1961 was published by
PT Sinar Kasih, was rather peculiar, to say the least.

When I returned from a stay of more than 10 years in the
United States in 1973, Sinar Harapan was going through a
reorganization process. The newspaper had been banned at the end
of 1972 for publishing the draft state budget, which was supposed
to be embargoed. I still have a copy of that particular edition
of Sinar Harapan with the draft budget printed in toto on the
front page.

Most probably, more seasoned editors would have handled the
story differently, such as by quoting "informed sources" and
changing some figures here and there. Given the limited leeway
that was at that time open to the press, that is what I had done
from time to time when I got hold of some original government
documents.

The government agreed in early 1973 to lift the publishing ban
on the condition that the newspaper carry out a reorganization
since it was prone to violating the government's rules. That was
actually the reason Sinar Harapan acquired the reputation of a
daring newspaper, while other newspapers were considered more
timid in their reporting.

It was in the middle of that process of reorganizing that I
was asked to be one of the newspapers deputy chief editors. My
late father, who was a shareholder in the company and realized
that it was important that Sinar Harapan continue to be published
given its distinct background - strongly imbued with the social
consciousness of the Christian Protestant community in Indonesia
-- persuaded me to work there, even if only for a few years.

He knew that I had other plans, but as I was to find out,
being involved in the newspaper business is like sipping quality
wine: You never know when to stop. My father reminded me that
since my student days at the University of Indonesia in the 1950s
I was already involved in the student press.

So, Sinar Harapan appeared again under a new name, Suara
Pembaruan, with a new editorial team, and was searching for a new
format. The new newspaper survived the tumultuous political
events of January 1974, when a number of more established
newspapers were closed down, and gradually found its format.

On the one hand there was the realistic awareness within the
editorial team that then president Soeharto's government had by
then acquired a high level of confidence. The 1972 general
election yielded a landslide victory for the ruling party,
Golkar. The government successfully weathered the political
crisis of January 1973, which in essence was a muted power
struggle between competing generals in his entourage.

And there was the dramatic rise world in oil prices, which
provided the New Order with a comfortable financial cushion,
although Indonesia was only a modest net oil exporter. On the
other hand, there were indications of social dissatisfaction that
needed to be aired, albeit cautiously.

Within these parameters, Suara Pembaruan daily gradually moved
forward to become one of the country's more popular afternoon
newspapers. I soon found out, however, that sometimes relative
success can cause new internal problems in the newspaper
business.

At the suggestion of the late Soedjatmoko, I accepted a
Niemann Foundation fellowship for media journalists at Harvard
University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, for the academic year
1978-1979. I indulged myself in the intellectual richness of
Harvard and managed to sit in at a graduate seminar on political
developments in non-Western countries, chaired by Prof. Samuel
Huntington, and also visited a number of Middle Eastern countries
on my way home.

For whatever misunderstandings that took place during my
absence while I was enjoying the stimulating environment of
Harvard, on my return home I found that the publisher, H.D.
Rorimpandey, had decided to relieve me of my position as deputy
chief editor.

I was given the lofty title of senior editorial writer and
could cover major international events while producing a few
editorials a week. I also had more time to take part in seminars
organized by CSIS and covered OPEC meetings with Fikri Jufri of
Tempo newsweekly, in Vienna, Geneva and Caracas.

It was amid this situation that I was offered the job of chief
editor of an English-language newspaper that was yet to be
published. As I was agonizing between plunging myself into a new
adventure and remaining in an undefined situation, I read in the
Straits Times of Singapore that a new English-language newspaper
was soon to be published in Jakarta, with the "temperamental"
Sabam Siagian as chief editor, Amir Daud, who at one time worked
at Pedoman newspaper in Jakarta as managing editor, and Moh.
Chudori, of Antara news agency, as general manager.

The news item also indicated that the new publication was a
cooperative effort among three major media publishing
enterprises. It was clearly a case of forcing my hand to take a
decision, but I did not react.

Fikri was then apparently assigned to get a clear answer from
me. He told me I was leading too easy a life, writing a few
editorials a week while listening to Beethoven symphonies and
ordering flowers whenever the flower vendor happened to pass by.

Since the pressure became too serious, I finally said that I
was not soliciting a job, although my situation was not that
ideal. However, if my services were wanted due to whatever
professional reputation I had, then my condition would be that PT
Sinar Kasih, the publishing company of Sinar Harapan (Suara
Pembaruan), should be involved as a partner in the new
enterprise. My consideration was that it would strengthen my
position because my status in the company would then be more than
that of an ordinary employee.

It seemed, however, that the condition that I was setting was
causing a problem. Some of the partners did not want to see
their shares reduced in order to pave the way for PT Sinar Kasih
to join. When finally 10 percent of shares could be allocated to
PT Sinar Kasih, primarily due to the intervention of Eric Samola
of PT Graffiti/Tempo, a new problem arose.

I vividly remember a meeting in late March 1983 at the CSIS
building on Jl.Tanah Abang II-27, in which H.G. Rorimpandey was
among those present. Pak Rorim, who during the revolution in the
late 1940s served as a young officer in the Siliwangi Division in
West Java, was a man of considerable self-esteem. He told the
meeting that whenever he took part in a new venture, it was
usually as a prominent partner, and a figure of 10 percent was
too small for him.

I derived some pleasure from sensing the tension in the
meeting room. The original group of partners, however, saw the
need to have me as chief editor and tried to comply. On the other
hand, I sensed that Pak Rorim, while remaining steadfast in his
position and thereby hiding his delight at being able to get rid
of me in such a graceful manner, was doing his best to make sure
that his demand of a greater share for PT Sinar Kasih could not
be rejected.

Finally, a compromise was made. A few percentages were added
to the total share of PT Sinar Kasih.

In the early morning of April 25, 1983, when I saw the first
copies of The Jakarta Post rolling off the presses at PT
Gramedia's printing plant, I suddenly remembered the title of a
book written by the venerable U.S. Secretary of State, Dean
Acheson. The work, Present at the Creation - My Years at the
State Department (1969, W.W. Norton and Company), described his
experiences during the years immediately after the end of World
War II in 1945, when he and a number of colleagues discussed,
formulated and designed the architecture of U.S. global policy in
facing the Soviet Union as an emerging adversary.

In my case, however, I felt during those early morning hours
that I had been practically grabbed into the efforts to create a
newspaper whose profile was not clear and whose acceptance by the
community was not at all certain. What was clear was that this
new involvement would change the routine of my life.