'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.