Marginalized Dayaks violently assert their rights

Marginalized Dayaks violently assert their rights

By Dini S. Djalal

JAKARTA (JP): Ethnic conflict is the accepted catchphrase to
describe the ongoing clashes between the indigenous Dayaks and
the migrant Madurese in West Kalimantan, which have reduced two
dozen Madurese settlements to ashen rubble.

Indonesia's ambitious transmigration program, which resettles
the very poor of Java and Madura to the outer provinces, is being
blamed for the riots, and not without reason. Often arriving with
little knowledge of their hosts' culture, the transmigrants
expand the cultural divide by living in separate hamlets.
Analysts advise that the Coordinating Body for National Unity
(Bakom PKB) should focus not only on assimilating the ethnic
Chinese, but also on acculturating migrant communities.

The cultural differences dividing the Dayaks and Madurese are
indeed great. The Dayaks complain that the Madurese are quick to
draw the knives they always carry -- itself an affront to Dayak
adat (custom). Graffiti proclaiming "Madurese out" proves that
ethnic friction does fuel the Dayaks' fury.

But theories of tribal enmity, along with assumptions of
economic disparity between the Dayaks and Madurese, are shallow
explanations of the fighting. Situating the conflict within the
context of political economy, and its impact on traditional Dayak
society, offers a clearer picture. "This movement must be seen in
the context of tradition, and to the Dayaks, this is self-
defense," said Pastor Heny Derksen of Pahauman.

After all, the more traditional groups are inflicting the most
damage. Ethnic-based theorizing does not explain the fact that
many Dayak warriors razing Madurese villages are from the
interior, where there is less contact with Madurese. "Many Dayaks
here don't have a problem with the Madurese," said Pastor Willy
Yacob of Ngabang. "But the Dayaks from the interior view the
Madurese as their enemies, because the Madurese often threaten
their children studying in the cities," he said. This inward
behavior reflects their education. In the upstream villages, the
education level is still very low, with 84 percent of the
population having only an elementary school education.

Pastor Yeremis of Menjalin parish, which saw 5,000 Dayak
refugees during the peak of the violence, says that the Madurese
are now scapegoats of pent-up Dayak anger. He explains that the
Dayak, docile for many decades, are reacting to years of
political, economic, and social marginalization. "The Dayaks are
so gentle and generous, but they are also easily manipulated and
used. This frustration is exploding now, and manifesting in their
conflict with the Madurese," he said.

Angry Dayaks are sweeping down by the thousands from the
Kapuas Hulu, Sambas, and Putussibao regencies by Malaysia's
Sarawak border, crying war and injustice. Although more
traditional than their southern kin, inland Dayak societies are
still being eroded by government-led modernization. The famous
communal longhouses have been replaced by single-family
dwellings, simultaneously taking away the oral traditions,
cultural cohesion, and political unity, of longhouse culture.

"The structures of their villages are being transformed. Their
traditional leaders are coopted into becoming civil servants,"
said Pastor Yeremis.

Societal restructuring is not the only change modernization
brings. As vital to the Dayaks, and to the unrest, is the
stripping away of their traditional land for the interests of
transmigrants and commercial plantations. "This is about land
conflict," said Laurentius Kadir, a Dayak and head of the
province's Directorate for Village Development. "What has to be
done is more balanced development," he said.

Structural poverty

Structural poverty may be the core issue, but not economic
inequity between the Dayaks and Madurese. Even the Dayaks
themselves admit many Madurese are poor, although some
transmigrants have prospered. More important than differences in
economic status are the means by which some Madurese gained their
wealth.

"Many Madurese are becak (three-wheel pedicab) drivers or
construction workers. Sure, some are rich, but we're not jealous.
What we don't like is the way they've gotten their land with
government help," said a Dayak who requested anonymity.

Complaints of land conflict illustrate the relative poverty of
the general population, whether Dayak, Madurese, or Javanese.
Martinus, a Dayak man whose house in Kepayang was burned by angry
Madurese said: "Some of the burned Madurese houses were very
luxurious -- some of them cost Rp 20 million (US$8333)".

Martinus' family, now in hiding, exemplifies the Dayaks'
increasing marginalization. Initially, the family had a lot of
swidden land in the area. But during the 20-year fallow period
traditional shifting cultivation requires, bit by bit their land
was "borrowed", with government consent, by migrant Madurese.
Lacking legal papers to their traditional land and confronted by
laws which declare all uncertified land as state possessions,
protests over land theft were often futile. "We resent the
Madurese taking our land, but we also resent the government for
not protecting our rights," said one Dayak.

The shrinking size of their traditional land has adversely
affected not only community harmony but also local income. As
land availability diminishes, Dayak farmers are forced to shorten
their fallow period to five years, thus destroying the
sustainability of the fragile ecosystem. West Kalimantan is now
the island's poorest region, the land depleted of rich soil and
replaced by alang-alang (parasitic weeds). Once a vast rain
forest, the landscape has been transformed into unproductive
savanna.

The loss of forest cover due to intensive farming and alang-
alang has brought about abnormally long dry seasons. "West
Kalimantan is facing severe environmental degradation.
Previously, you had uncyclic dry periods every 100 years, now you
can have dry periods of up to six months," said environmental
scientist Frank Momberg, who spent a year conducting field
research in West Kalimantan. Exceptionally long dry seasons also
means forest fires, which halt economic activity. "The planes
stop flying, the ships stop coming in because there is too much
haze from the forest fires," said Momberg.

The Dayaks' progressive poverty is exacerbated, says Momberg,
by the spread of palm oil and rubber plantations. Currently, 2.3
million hectares of land are allocated by the government for
commercial plantations, making West Kalimantan Indonesia's second
largest plantation area after Riau. Few Dayaks are involved in
these projects.

In some cases, these projects do not even provide jobs for the
Dayaks. Despite an annual export-led growth rate of 10.7 percent,
West Kalimantan has a high local unemployment rate: 13 percent in
1995. "These projects have to stop bringing in labor from
outside. They must hire Dayaks too," said Laurentius Kadir.

The big estates are making big money at the expense of
radically transforming traditional Dayak economy. Historically,
Dayak farming methods were "mutually supportive", alternating
rice planting with commercial crops. The rice was harvested for
subsistence, while the other crops, such as rubber and tengkawang
(illipe nuts used for cosmetics), were traded for essential
goods.

In the 1980s, the green revolution arrived, and with it a new
orientation towards land. Offering credit of Rp 9 million per
field, the International Body for Rubber Smallholder Development
encouraged farmers to establish monoculture rubber plantations,
which produced higher yields but required more labor. Many Dayaks
then devoted more of their land to cash crops, leaving them with
fewer subsistence crops and forcing them to buy additional rice.

To the Dayaks, increasing consumption meant more debt. The
Dayak live by a barter system, and, forced by physical isolation
from more just market forces, began to sell their crops at below-
market prices.

Yet turning to rubber tapping at least safeguarded Dayak land
and livelihood. "If managed well, you can get a good return on
rubber," said Frank Momberg.

More damaging was the proliferation of palm oil estates. In
the 1980s, Dayak communities across the province protested being
forced to give up 25 hectares of their traditional land in
compensation for only 2 hectares in palm oil plantation schemes
-- land then handed over to transmigrants and commercial estates.
In recent years the Dayaks have burned three plantations in
protest of land appropriation.

The Dayaks complain that their interests would be better
served with more Dayaks in government. Governor Aspar Aswin, they
point out, is from Lampung, while many government officials are
non-Dayak, despite the fact that the province is 51 percent
Dayak. "There are even more Irianese in government in Irian Jaya
than there are Dayaks in government in Kalimantan," said Frank
Momberg.

"The Dayaks simply want more representation in parliament,"
said Pastor Yeremis.

But the quest for social justice is hindered by the perception
that the few Dayaks in government, particularly those negotiating
the peace process, represent the interests of big business.

"The Dayaks here feel they are treated unfairly. We have to
sell our land cheaply. Is this justice?," said a Dayak.

Yet, as the Dayaks savagely assert their rights, a bigger
question is whether brutality will recover the justice the
marginalized Dayaks have lost.