'When freedom dies, it never dies alone'

'When freedom dies, it never dies alone'

By Dewi Anggraeni

MELBOURNE, Australia (JP): "In the beginning there was the word."

The word, for Indonesian author Goenawan Mohamad, is about power and he was explaining what he meant to a group of peers at a congress in Fremantle, Perth.

The authors, members of PEN International -- an association of poets, playwrights, essayists, editors and novelists -- invited Goenawan to speak at their 62nd Congress, on Oct. 29, the first time they had made such an invitation.

"We wanted a distinguished figure of literature from this region of the world to be the keynote speaker," Ronald Harwood, president of PEN International, explained.

Goenawan, author and the former editor of the now outlawed Tempo magazine, spoke to over 300 delegates from all over the world at the second PEN congress held in the southern hemisphere. (The first was in Sydney in 1977.)

It was an unassuming Goenawan Mohamad, wearing gray pants and blue denim shirts, that took his stance behind the lectern, spreading a sense of anticipation in the room.

But the impact of his opening sentence -- "I come from a country where censorship has become almost like a ritual," -- was ruined, the victim of a faulty microphone. The audience was visibly annoyed. Unflustered, Goenawan moved to the bench and used the microphone there.

From an early age, he began, he knew what it meant to be afraid of words, or rather the impact of words. Superstition motivated animist fishermen to refrain from uttering the word fish when they went out to sea, and village hunters would not mention the word tiger when they entered the forest.

"Words, for those hunters and fishermen, do not simply exit from the mouth, as a symbol of some concept," said Goenawan. "Words have their own physicality, as if they are part of a dim world where danger spreads like a germ."

In the pre-technology era, words invoked awe in people, as if they were a keris, he said. At times, a keris was an emblem of ceremony, but it forever contained the specter of harm.

"Because words can so easily incite aggression and conflict, they, like the keris, are more often than not left unused," Goenawan said.

To Goenawan, the essence of freedom of expression is not about certain principles and values but, in common with other issues of human rights, it is inexorably linked to violence and suffering.

He told the story of when he had been invited to the remote village of Madura, to take part in a public "prayer of concern", 30 days after Tempo was banned in June 1994.

Two months before the banning, four peasants from the neighboring village had been shot and killed when they staged a protest against the construction of a dam on their land.

Tempo, together with other members of the media, sent reporters to cover the incident and, when the story was published, it attracted nationwide interest. The government was moved to act, in order to appease the anger of the Madurese.

The independent media coverage had provided these people with some kind of protection. They feared that if the media could no longer work freely, more people would become victims.

"Anyone who says that when freedom dies, it never dies alone, is absolutely right," said Goenawan.

"Power, while seeming to fuse with words through the process of their multiplication and distribution, eventually causes words themselves to become unfree,"

The 40-minute presentation took the audience into the confines of Indonesian art and culture, then back out into world at large.

Goenawan compared the traditional way of conveying messages in print with the modern approach. He said that in the Serat Centini, an 18th century Javanese poetic text, erotic passages describe what is generally found in male sexual fantasies.

These passages used to be read to an audience with whom the poet or presenter shared values and metaphors. There was intimacy that burned through inhibitions.

Yet, in the new technology era, where the writer's words can transcend cultural boundaries, they enter a world easily shocked; one that is suspicious, uncomprehending or angry about what they have to say.

Goenawan's speech was specific, yet so relevant to other parts of the world today.

Goenawan concluded: "Somehow, stories and poetry have become too much a part of our lives. In its finest manifestations, literature once again shows us how words can do unexpected things, can explore uncharted territory, leaving only footprints that mock every kind of fettering."

His words left a lasting impression on the audience of PEN members. Officials say they hope to invite a literary figure as prominent as Goenawan to every future congress.