Politics affect art and tourism sectors in Bali

Politics affect art and tourism sectors in Bali

By Degung Santikarma

DENPASAR, Bali (JP): In the tiny village of Peliatan, south of
Ubud, Bali, a small artshop has recently been renovated. The
gaudy paint and shiny ceramic tiles have been replaced with
natural stone and mud-plastered walls in subdued colors.

The wood carvings and canvases offered for sale are no longer
stacked in a jumbled mess but have been transformed into an
elegant, eye-catching arrangement.

The brochures have been redesigned, and a website is in the
works. The employees have been trained to offer their customers
genuine Balinese smiles, and to speak appreciatively about the
authentic Balinese culture they are selling. Even the sign
outside beckoning buyers to enter has been changed. It no longer
reads "artshop" and "made to order," but now advertises, in
classic calligraphic lettering, "gallery."

But this artshop, like its neighbors, is doing little
business.

Despite its strategic location on a main road, the few tour
buses speeding past barely slow down for the swarm of small
stores that have crowded this stretch of avenue. And even though
Wayan Karda, the shop's owner, has invested large sums of money
in renovating not only his store but himself, taking lessons in
"time management," "positive thinking," and "SWOT" analysis --
the new key words of the Balinese middle class - he has yet to
reap the rewards of his efforts.

The new fax machine is standing idle, the new e-mail box is
always empty, and the new handphone rings not to announce orders,
but to try and collect on his -- by now substantial -- debts.

On this particularly slow morning, Wayan Karda is sitting in
front of his store, drinking coffee and chain-smoking in the
company of several of his colleagues whose neighboring shops are
equally deserted. His face is folded in a frown as he scans the
headlines of the local newspaper. Printed on the front page are
photographs of students demonstrating against the soaring price
of oil, teachers demonstrating against their low wages, and
conservatives demonstrating their fear that the Indonesian
Communist Party might somehow rise from the dead.

Throwing the newspaper to the ground, he exclaims in disgust,
"Politics! It's all politics!"

Seeming to speak more to himself than to the other men
gathered around him, he explains that it's politics that is
ruining his business. Tourists are afraid to come to Bali now, he
says.

"They don't want to see conflict, they want to see a culture
that is happy and peaceful," he explains. Gesturing with contempt
at the newsprint lying crumpled at his feet, he asks, with a note
of hopelessness creeping into his voice, "Aren't they finished
yet? There's already a new president and ministers. Megawati has
already become Vice President. Gus Dur has already said he's
sorry about 1965, and Soeharto has been put under city arrest.
When are they going to stop with the politics?"

And Wayan Karda is not alone. All across Bali, especially in
those regions where livelihoods have become increasingly
dependent upon the tourist dollar, such sentiments are being
echoed more and more openly in the streets.

Even those Balinese who once considered themselves die-hard
supporters of Megawati and sociopolitical reform, are now
frequently heard musing that things seemed better when Soeharto's
Golkar party was in power.

According to people like Wayan Karda, "politics" is not about
struggling to create a more just and open society. For him and
his peers, "politics" is identical to chaos, confusion, disorder,
violence, burning buildings, sharp weapons, and a kick in the
side from a booted foot.

And because Bali is a tourist destination and the Balinese
themselves have become tourist dependent, "politics" in Bali has
become synonymous with diminishing cash flow, falling occupancy
rates, desperate street vendors, depressed craftsmen, striking
hotel workers, family conflicts and postponed rituals.

But if people like Wayan Karda are becoming increasingly anti-
political, their position is far from politically neutral.
Searching for a space free of politics, they are in fact
reproducing strategies of social containment and control
perfected by the previous Indonesian state regime.

Seeking to ensure its power, the New Order redefined
"politics" as something inherently negative and anti-national,
the source of social disruption and communal disintegration. The
state attempted to define itself not as a political institution,
but as the protector of the people against politics, and the
chaos and confusion that allegedly accompanied it.

Even the official state party, Golkar, was termed a "golongan
karya," or "functional group," not a "partai politik," or
political party, the name reserved for the officially permitted
opposition groups. And the New Order backed up this ideology not
only with rhetorical redefinitions, but with constant references
to the moment of its birth: in 1965, when hundreds of thousands
were killed following an alleged Communist coup attempt.

Death and destruction, the state warned, were sure to follow
if people were to engage in politics again.

And in Bali, these social sanctions against "politics" have
remained in place, even in the post-New Order era. Over the past
three decades, Bali has become the nation's most famous tourist
destination, a showcase for calm and tranquility. As the one
place in Indonesia that has been most welcoming to the West, Bali
needed to project a positive image, an image that was both exotic
and safe. Art and peace and smiles and sunsets were what would
brought foreign exchange, not demonstrations or campaigns or
social critiques.

People like Wayan Karda, seeking to make a living in an
increasingly difficult world, were given a new modern mantra by
Balinese officials: act like you're happy, and happiness will
surely follow. "Positive thinking" became official policy.

This redefinition of politics in Bali required, however, that
the island's history be selectively rewritten to stress safety,
harmony and tranquility. As a new "traditional Balinese culture"
was created and marketed by cultural tourism promoters, Bali's
past needed to be cleansed of its more troublesome aspects,
including its violent history of warring kingdoms and
colonialism, and its conflicts between castes and classes.

Even the traditional stories from the Ramayana and Mahabrata
needed to be revised, the battle scenes cut and the love scenes
lengthened for the tourist stage. And ironically, in order to
attract tourism, Bali has also needed to distance itself from its
history as part of the Indonesian nation. Despite the fact that
contemporary "Balinese culture" is very much a product of the
past thirty-five years of state policy, many Balinese have felt
that in order to continue to attract foreign funds they must
convince Westerners that the troubles brewing in places like
Jakarta, Ambon or Aceh have nothing to do with them.

The tourists come with desires of their own -- to escape the
problems in their lives.

And so Wayan Karda sits and smokes, waiting for the tour buses
to stop, waiting for an end to politics. Or, perhaps, for
politics to be remade into a part of everyday life and struggle,
a way out of silence... a way to work for a better future.