RI's arts, literature in regression

RI's arts, literature in regression

By Johannes Nugroho

SURABAYA (JP): The thunderous roar of disapproval from the
contemporary Indonesian arts community in response to Abdul
Latief's recent appointment as Minister of Tourism, Arts and
Culture is ironic. The newly titled ministry was shunned by the
community it is supposed to represent and interact with. Not only
did our eminent artists question the integrity of Latief, they
also treated the allegedly pecuniary interests of the ministry
with cynicism.

Harry Roesli, the loudest of the trumpeters on behalf of the
arts community, lamented the intended commercialization of arts
and culture. He insisted in a recent interview that scaling the
arts for salability was "shallow" and argued that it could pose a
threat to the development of the arts in the country. Roesli also
stated bluntly that "attention and concern by the government (for
the arts) are almost nonexistent".

The latter arguably sums up the attitude and course by which
the development of Indonesia, Inc. are set. The government,
despite Article 32 of the Constitution, has underestimated the
value of contemporary arts. Instead, it has courted almost
exclusively the siren of technological advancements.

The construction of the N-250 aircraft by national aircraft
manufacturer IPTN, indeed a worthy national achievement, was
greeted throughout the country by jubilation. The aircraft's
presence in the prestigious French Air Show last year hallmarked
our pride once again. Reports of progress made at the shipbuilder
PT PAL led to beaming faces across the country. The final icing
on the technological-laden cake was the talk of constructing a
nuclear plant.

The New Order's obsession with technology has undoubtedly paid
off. Computers and laptops are household items which most middle
class families can afford. More Indonesian teenagers surf the
Internet and chat on cellular telephones. ATMs mushroomed and
companies began to computerize everything. In the 1990s,
Indonesia shook off the image of a technologically devoid third-
world country, and we will probably never look back.

Yet, as Indonesian students are shepherded into the realm of
technology at school, they are seldom encouraged to appreciate
arts or literature. Humanities subjects such as literature and
history are taught with tediousness.

Literature students in secondary schools are instructed to
memorize the names of authors, plus their works, without even
having to read them. Perusal of literary works is never part of
the curriculum. Students are not guided to interpret history and
literature themselves. Spoonfeeding is considered a better
alternative.

With this unbalanced mobilization towards technological
advancement, we have forgotten that a great nation, in the long
run, is not judged through its technological legacy. Great
ancient civilizations claimed their greatness through their
literary works, philosophy and arts.

The Greeks have retain their relevance for two millennia
because we still read and discuss Homer, Aristotle and Plato. We
still gaze upon their faultless amphoras and statues with
amazement. More importantly, their finest legacy, democracy,
still lives on.

On the other hand, we cannot make too much use of how they
built their roads while we can build three-tiered roads with
utmost ease. Their marathon runners-cum-messengers would look
ludicrous when contrasted with our split-second satellite
communication system. Their then sophisticated ways of recording
facts and events on pieces of clay and papyrus pale beyond
comparison to our CD ROMs.

Omens of a new generation of Indonesians alienated from arts
and literature are becoming more and more visible. For instance,
it has been years since a major Indonesian literary work emerged,
a sad indicator of dormancy of literature in this country.
Contemporary Japanese authors such as Kosno Ishigura have won
international acclaim and have their works published, but our
authors struggle to find publishers for intellectual novels.

We applauded with belated pride when we learned about Anggun
C. Sasmi's success on the European musical scene. Unfortunately,
Anggun does not even live here anymore. She is a French national
and her records are produced in Europe. Are we still able to call
her an Indonesian success story?

Contemporary creative minds today are constantly faced with
the dilemmatic censorship which the government upholds almost
zealously. Ratna Sarumpaet's play portraying the tragic fate of
labor activist Marsinah was banned in Surabaya for dubious
political reasons; this is not to mention all the others who
suffered the same fate. It is indeed surprising that under such
repressive circumstances the Indonesian arts still linger on.

Amid the current national mourning over the economic debacle,
it is perhaps far too sanguine to expect government financial
support for the arts. Instead, the government probably wishes to
exploit our arts to the maximum. The government will presumably
want to see more craftworks or Balinese and Asmat statues for
export. What evades them is that these are anything but art;
genuine artistic works are not some mass-produced, spurious odds
and ends.

True works of arts possess the dignity and livelihood endowed
in them by their creators. Art does not have to conform to the
mainstream tastes. Nor does it need to kowtow to the authorities.
Artworks should be the pinnacle of unculled human expression, a
testimony to history and, most importantly, a glimpse of the
soul. The least it needs for its survival is an attempt at
denigration, sizing it up by measures of salability and
commercial potential.