The humanistic character of our southern neighbor
The humanistic character of our southern neighbor
Alpha Amirrachman, Jakarta
As a person lucky enough to win an Australian Development
Scholarship, I had the privilege of not only developing my
research skills and enhancing my academic standing at the oldest
Australian university, but also to delve into the heart of the
Australian way of life and gain an insight into Australian
perspectives.
In the light of the historical visit by the Indonesian president
this month to Australia, I would like to reflect on my personal
experiences of how my three-year stay in the country deepened my
understanding of our southern neighbor, which is culturally,
economically and politically so different from us.
The first event that shaped my perceptions was when I saw a
group of Palestinian-Australian students demonstrating to protest
an Israeli attack on the late Yasser Arafat's headquarters just
about 100 meters away from a group of Jewish-Australian students
commemorating the Holocaust. No violence -- not even verbal.
There was a great deal of tolerance! Many people showed
respect and interest by talking to both sides. I could not
imagine this happening in our county, where anti-Semitism has
become almost the flesh on our bones.
And when the Bali blast killed many Australians, I immediately
extended my condolences to an officemate in the faculty, who
immediately replied, "I feel so sorry for the Balinese who also
lost their lives. It must be hard for their families." I could
see obvious sadness in her face, but I did not see any anger,
although she later told me that one of her friends was killed.
But that was in the academic world! How about outside the
university? During one party, one of the girls I had recently met could
not hide her anger and cynicism, "Bali is totally different from
the rest of Indonesia. It doesn't actually belong to your
country." I politely responded, "Even without Bali, our country
is still so diverse, so what do you mean by the rest of
Indonesia?" "The rest means the Muslim majority." I saw no point
in arguing any more.
On one evening when we were in a bar in Newtown, some of my
international friends verbally attacked me, "Your country must be
a very dangerous place as there are so many Muslims there!"
While I was only having a glass of orange juice and the others
were drinking beer, the comment was more than enough to make my
blood boil. I replied angrily that violence is "so normal" in
Indonesia that a simple communal fight could result in headless
bodies lying on the street. It was my Australian friend who
calmed me down as he pulled me out of the bar before driving me
home.
The Bali blast, in fact, profoundly shocked Australia, and
people spontaneously responded by giving donations. They were
greatly united in sorrow. Indeed, in a country where violence is
so rare, the Bali blast was seen as an immense catastrophe. By
contrast, in our country, where violence is almost the norm, the
blast was perhaps regarded as "business as usual".
In general, I found that the Australians are more forgiving
and humanistic in nature. The donations flowed not only to the
Australian victims, but even more so to the Indonesians in Bali
who suffered in the incident. The Australian government even
built a hospital there as a sign of appreciation to the Balinese.
Another example of this humanistic character was the public
reaction after the Australian security forces broke down the door
of an Indonesian Muslim family's house in Lakemba -- an area of
Sydney with a big Muslim population. The next morning the
newspapers were filled with letters protesting against the
allegedly harsh treatment that the suspected "terrorist" Muslim
family had to endure.
They expressed great sympathy for the devout Muslim family.
There were also news reports in which the reporters interviewed
the family's neighbors, who defended them as a caring family that
could not possibly be involved in terrorism. Later, the
authorities returned their confiscated possessions.
In Indonesia, however, the incident sparked huge protests.
Browsing the internet, I found that there were almost daily
demonstrations protesting against the alleged harsh treatment
that the Indonesian family received. However, no Indonesian news
outlet reported anything about the sections of the Australian
public who responded sympathetically to the incident. In most of
the Indonesian media, the overall picture portrayed was that the
Australians were bent on a crusade for vengeance.
What made me feel ashamed, therefore, was our imprudent
attitude and the fact that we seemed to forget that many
Australians had lost their lives in a vicious way at the hands of
terrorists who happened to be Indonesians. Yet, they were still
able to display genuine sympathy for us. These humanistic and
forgiving acts by many sections of Australian society should open
our eyes when assessing the character of our southern neighbor.
This was further evidenced when the tsunami devastated large
swathes of Aceh. The reaction of the Australian public was
unprecedented and their donations were the biggest in the world.
What more evidence do we need?
However, we still need greater efforts to help our fellow
countrymen truly comprehend and appreciate the character of our
southern neighbor. While one cannot make generalizations, it is
nevertheless a fact that exposing ourselves to their lives is an
invaluable experience and helps us gain a clearer picture of the
way in which Australians perceive us as their northern neighbor.
I found that education is the best bridge that can facilitate
this. Further educational collaboration, such as student exchange
programs, will enhance genuine understanding between the people
of our two countries. As John Howard once said, "We can change
our friends, but not our neighbor."
The writer is a Master of Philosophy in Education candidate at
the School of Policy and Practice, Faculty of Education and
Social Work, University of Sydney, and is on an AusAID
scholarship. He is also a member of JIMM (Muhammadiyah
Intellectual Network).
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