Legacy of Ken Arok lives on

By Aboeprijadi Santoso

AMSTERDAM (JP): President B.J. Habibie should be applauded for condemning the May riots and offering an apology in July and in his State of the Nation address in August. However, he in effect retracted the apology when he denied the incidence of gang rape, following statements made by the police chief, the head of the State Intelligence Coordinating Board and the commander of the Armed Forces (ABRI). The rapes have been greeted with outrage both domestically and internationally.

Why, then, should Habibie retract the apology when the issue is still under investigation by a team initiated by the President himself? Does the state merely need to be sure before it acts, or has the state of rape become so politically vulnerable that it has been concluded that it is time to "rape" the reports?

Whatever the state's priorities are, it should at least consider the reports, be empathetic and understand the great concern expressed by society and the victims. After all, the issue is highly sensitive and has received greater coverage precisely because it resulted from actions of the state itself which affected the life of the nation as a whole. Rape and themes associated with rape are not incidental, but part of the history of the nation. As such it may help us to gain a better understanding of the relationship between the state, violence and women.

Several months ago, Christianto Wibisono was quoted by Suara Pembaruan, in its May 22 edition, as arguing that throughout Soeharto's rule, as much as during Sukarno's rule, Indonesians had been living with the legacy of Ken Arok's adventurous pattern of political behavior. This is the tale of the 13th century eastern Javanese kingdom, Singasari. Ken Arok was its first king in 1227.

Once a new regime was established, they appeased the ruler, while he became firmer. As he repressed, so did they. When he quit, they haunted him, but kept the old institutions alive. With one dictator gone, all but the structure of social life and the mentality was gone. Like Ken Arok and Brutus, Indonesians tend to join in the killing of their enemies, but continue the social habits.

At transition, indeed, violence thrives as conflicts should be resolved. Ken Arok, who usurped power by killing the king, actually became a legitimate ruler only because he married, if not raped, Queen Ken Dedes, who was seen as the source of light and thus of power. The essential idea seems to be that women and sexual relationships establish a normative means to a legitimate reign. Indeed, the late president Sukarno conceived the state as the very union of male (yoni, symbolized by the National Monument) and female sexuality (lingga, represented by the parliamentary building).

As a brave young fighter (jago), Ken Arok was a popular bandit. As a symbol, he signified the ideal of a strong and courageous hero who established a new kingdom. His image included qualities embraced by the Indonesian term perkasa which WJS Purwadarminta's classic dictionary defines as "brave, courageous, powerful, (by) force, violence". Significantly, but not incidentally, the same qualities are associated with the word perkosa (rape) and included in the dictionary description. The conceptual affinity of the two terms -- "brave" and "rape" -- in Indonesian discourse should be obvious.

Physical strength and bravery -- themselves related to rape and women by virtue of the strength shown to her -- may therefore be interlinked in a set of characteristics we ought to expect from the state, state officials and state's actions.

The case of July 27, 1996 reminds us of the contribution popular images have in real processes. On that day, the state acted against a potential challenger, the Indonesian Democratic Party (PDI) faction of Megawati Soekarnoputri, in order to exclude her from the 1997 general election. Rachlan Nashidik, who witnessed the military-supported units of the Soerjadi-led PDI attacking Megawati's headquarters, has noted how symbolic the tragic event was. It was a contrast, reflecting a social life dominated by the male and military environment, he said. A brutal force of the state crushed a weak group supporting a popular female leader. The violent units, wearing red or black T-shirts, confronted a legitimate political faction led by a soft woman leader dressed in white. The event, perceived as "bad guys versus a good lady", turned out to be an important prelude to Soeharto's decline.

It was not the first time the state's might faced female resistance. In 1965, it was challenged by a woman communist force, Gerwani. In the 1980s, Marsinah, the labor leader who was brutally sexually assaulted and killed, became a symbol of resistance. The rise of female leaders and female solidarity groups over recent months is another good example.

The rape of Chinese women last May is neither unique nor bearing religious or communal significance because it was partly the consequence of the state's actions. A member of the Volunteer Team, Karlina Leksono, has argued that the systematically organized rapes constituted a climax of the escalation of state violence. "Women were hit not only because they could not resist but because they will keep silent," she said in Amsterdam recently.

Facing silence, one may add, the state proves its absolute supremacy over the society. Such a climax may be viewed as the great victory of Rambo's political jingoism, of Ken Arok's jagoism syndrome, if you like, which was made possible under the conditions of imbalance between state and society. Lack of imbalance, on the other hand, would create the need of powerbrokers, which explains the rise of the Mafia in 19th century Sicily and vanished with the rise of Italian fascism. Under the state's hegemony, the would-be-powerbrokers instead become pre-modern tyrants (Ken Arok), Rambo type military adventurers or fascists.

In the case of Soeharto's New Order regime of economic expansion, we witnessed increasing state political domination and centralization, resulting not only in social, sectional and regional imbalances, but also growing resistance. Chief among the latter are student protests, labor strikes and fierce resistance in East Timor, Aceh and Irian.

Certain ethnic women become targets whenever the state faces its most critical problems. In East Timor the state has faced resistance from the local population since the mid-1970s. The widespread mass graves, numerous cases of rape and scattered "villages of widows" are not publicly discussed. The same phenomenon is now being unearthed in Aceh as a result of military operations when the state faced problems of control in the early 1990s. Finally, when the state leader faced a mounting financial crisis with the economy and legitimacy, the political struggle turned to violence last May, and it was Chinese women who became the victims.

The May tragedy, then, should be viewed as the "missing link" between the failure of the state's Rambo elements to provoke students riots up to May 12 (i.e. until the shootings at Trisakti University) and the critical moments after the state crisis was only partly resolved by Soeharto's exit. If the Rambos failed to seize power via riots and gang rapes, neither did the state succession stop the atrocities.

At issue is, precisely, the mechanism and instruments of state violence. The recent dismissal of Lt. Gen. Prabowo Subianto, following probes into abductions in East Timor, leaves this mechanism fully intact. The fact that state apparatuses were not democratically controlled, easily led to human rights violations, atrocities and impunities. Like the Achenese and East Timorese women who resisted, the Chinese women and girls defy state authorities by keeping silent. Victims survive because they resist.

To force victims of rape to give public testimony, therefore, is to hide the real issue. To continue to do so would be like celebrating Ken Arok when he raped his wife in order to rape the state.

The writer is a journalist based in Amsterdam, the Netherlands.