People-profile-Dillon

People-profile-Dillon

JP/20/DILLON

HS Dillon -- a man who knows no fear

Joyeeta Dutta Ray
Contributor/Jakarta

In a country rife with corruption it takes a person of immense
courage to fight for justice without once giving in.

Dr. Harbrinderjit Singh Dillon is one such person.

As Dillon sits at his desk and readies for the interview, he
remarks, "This is the year of the Rooster -- this is my year!"

Like the traits associated with his birth sign, there is an
element of vibrancy about him. His first words of welcome in
Bahasa Indonesia put in perspective who he really is: Dillon has
the face of a debonair Indian Sikh, but his soul belongs firmly
in Indonesia.

Dillon has been at the forefront of political activism for
more than two decades. He is a voice for the peasants, a champion
of human rights. He has also been a figure of terror, primarily
for the corrupt. His words spare no one.

He is solid figure but his observations are cutting. Like a
knife chiseling wood, he fashions the story of his life, nicking
some along the way, carving out hope for others.

"My great grandfather was a farmer in Punjab, India, who
migrated to Medan decades back. Plantation runners were much in
demand by the Dutch in Indonesia then. But unlike in Malaysia,
where the bulk of plantation workers were Indians deported by the
British, here they were mostly locals," Dillon says.

One wonders if the Indian Sikh family, with their traditional
costumes and turbans, were readily accepted in North Sumatra.
Dillon turns wistful."In my entire career, I have been
discriminated against because of my turban just once, when I was
told that I could never make a minister, coming from a minority.

"Indonesians are very warm people. There is no reason for them
to discriminate against Indians. Sikhs have been part of the
Indonesian fabric from way back. Even in my great-grandfather's
time they were a fairly large community of two to three thousand
people employed as mostly farmers."

His great-grandfather joined this workforce and went on to
found the Khalsa School for the people of his community.

By the time Dillon entered the world three generations later,
Sikhism meant less to him than his forefathers. Instead, he was
more interested in being an Indonesian.

Growing up in Medan, Dillon was exposed to the unfortunate
lives of the farmers at first hand. It made him understand the
importance of a strong agricultural economy.

As he puts it today, "Agriculture and agriculture-based
industrialization should be at the center of economic strategy.
When you enhance agricultural productivity, you increase
incomes".

However, the situation in the 1950s was a far cry from his
understanding of today. The plight of farmers was characterized
by poverty and negligence.

The gross injustice of their plight struck a chord in Dillon.
He wished to speak out against it but he realized at a young age
that to be heard one first needed to be armed with the power of
knowledge -- and money.

After his basic education in Medan, Dillon went on to Cornell
University in the United States, where he was offered a
fellowship in agricultural trade and development. He majored in
international trade and development and also studied resource
management, economics and developmental sociology.

He came back to Indonesia to serve as a researcher in the
Ministry of Agriculture, rising to assistant for the minister of
agriculture over the years.

For a man with a degree from Cornell, it was an unusual
decision to head back to Indonesia. Why did he do it? "Because I
am somebody here. There is an impact (I can make)," he says.

He turned down a lucrative job for a lesser paying one to
realize his burning ambition -- to help the farmers and make a
difference.

But rampant corruption at every level made him, he says, a
disillusioned man. Not one to take things lying down, he spoke
out against important officials in no uncertain terms. This deed
cost him his job in the state bureaucracy.

Dillon opted for consultancy work thereafter and embarked on a
variety of challenging posts, including as a commissioner for the
National Commission on Human Rights; a member of the Council for
the National Economy (DEN) reporting to the president; a member
of the Joint Investigation Team (Anticorruption) reporting to the
Attorney General.

Today, Dillon sits as the Executive Director of the
Partnership for Governance Reform in Indonesia.

Interviewed and selected from over 500 candidates, this
position brings him much peace of mind. "This is the job of my
dreams. I am paid to do what I like doing best", he said.

Talking of donors, Dillon offers his views about tsunami-
stricken Aceh. "A lot of money has been generated for the tsunami
from here and abroad. I say don't give money, instead give water
purifying plants, pre-paid housing and the like. We are becoming
nothing but a clearing house for Aceh." he says.

Dillon goes on, "Aceh is full of injustice. If there is no
governance in Aceh, Indonesia is doomed. But I am always
optimistic. One must have asah (hope) -- asah untuk bangsa (hope
for the country). If we have hope, we can build a new Aceh. The
future of a new Indonesia is tied up with the future of a new
Aceh."

In Dillon's dictionary nothing is impossible. His statements
ring with earnest passion. His outspoken, often critical views
have made and broken his career. But he has no regrets. "I am a
proud man. I am grateful that I have been confident about
speaking out".

How is it living with a man of such immense ideals? His
Indonesian Muslim wife of 29 years is a perfect companion to the
man she married. With a sharp mind of her own to match his, she
breaks in, "My husband is a Rooster, I am a Rabbit. We are six
signs apart -- a match that is quite a mismatch. We are at
loggerheads everyday. That is why we are together still", she
says with a smile.

Dillon explains, "My wife, Droupti, is a doctor, a
nutritionist. We are poles apart. It is said in Chinese astrology
that in a marriage when two people are this dissimilar, it is
bound to last. Once differences are mended, that is the end of
the relationship," he says, tongue in cheek.

Dillon is a father of three sons. It is a close-knit family
where the relationship thrives less on authority and more on
imbibing from each other. But one wonders whether they gravitate
towards any one religion, as is the case in most mixed marriages.
Dillon's answer is as forward-thinking as his views.

"I haven't raised my children as either Sikhs or Muslims. If
we are the bow and they the arrows, we should let them go on
ahead as good people," he says.

Dillon is a prolific writer, an ardent speaker, an intent
listener and an optimistic believer. Most of all, he finally has
the power, expertise and the means to see his vision of a dynamic
new Indonesia.

There is only one concern. "The scarcest commodity is time,"
he says.

He has nothing to fear. After all, the year belongs to him. As
for the future, there is always asah. Asah untuk bangsa.