王

"Andreas Harsono is not well known to the public but he is very well known among a small network of human rights activists, dissident scholars, Indonesian journalists, and foreign correspondents. He is often the fixer behind their stories – unacknowledged, unassuming, unselfish. Now he has shown just what a superb chronicler he is in his own right."

Clinton Fernandes of University of New South Wales University

on Andreas Harsono's book Race, Islam and Power

Andreas Harsono meliput dampak dari tsunami 2014 di Aceh. Ombak raksasa tersebut membunuh lebih 100,000 orang dan mengakhiri perang selama tiga dekade antara Gerakan Acheh Merdeka dan Indonesia lewat perjanjian damai Helsinki pada Agustus 2015. ©Hotli Simanjuntak

Media dan Jurnalisme

Saya pernah bekerja sebagai wartawan The Jakarta Post, The Nation (Bangkok), The Star (Kuala Lumpur) dan majalah Pantau (Jakarta). Saya suka menulis soal jurnalisme. Bill Kovach, guru jurnalisme, mendidik saya buat menjadi wartawan ketika belajar di Universitas Harvard.

Buku dan Laporan

Saya menerbitkan dua antologi –Jurnalisme Sastrawi (2005) bersama Budi Setiyono dan “Agama” Saya Adalah Jurnalisme (2011)—serta beberapa laporan termasuk Prosecuting Political Aspiration: Indonesia’s Political Prisoners (2010), In Religion’s Name: Abuses Against Religious Minorities in Indonesia (2013) serta "I Wanted to Run Away": Abusive Dress Codes for Women and Girls in Indonesia (2021). Pada 2019, buku Race, Islam and Power terbit.

Hak Asasi Manusia

Sejak 2008, saya bekerja sebagai peneliti buat Human Rights Watch. Ia membuat saya banyak menulis soal diskriminasi terhadap minoritas agama di Indonesia: minoritas dalam Islam termasuk Ahmadiyah dan Syiah; minoritas non-Islam termasuk Protestan, Katholik, Buddha, Hindu dan Khong Hu Chu; minoritas agama kecil maupun agama baru macam Millah Abraham. 

Minoritas gender --termasuk perempuan serta LGBTIQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex, queer)-- juga sering saya bahas. Saya juga banyak menulis minoritas etnik macam Aceh, Kalimantan, Jawa, Maluku, Timor serta Papua.

Perjalanan

Saya pernah jalan dari Sabang sampai Merauke, dari Miangas sampai Rote, lebih dari 80 lokasi, selama tiga tahun. Saya menulis tempat menarik. Saya juga sering menulis perjalanan di negeri jauh, dari Eropa sampai Amerika, praktis berbagai kota besar di Asia Tenggara. 

Cerita

Pengalaman hidup, dari kegembiraan sampai kesedihan, dari kawan sampai adik. Saya selalu tinggal di Pulau Jawa --Jember, Lawang, Malang, Salatiga, dan Jakarta-- namun pernah bermukim di Phnom Penh dan Cambridge, dekat Boston. Kedua anak saya lahir di Jakarta. Isteri saya, Sapariah Saturi, kelahiran Pontianak, pindah ke Jakarta buat bekerja. Mungkin kawan saya di luar Indonesia, paling banyak di New York sehingga saya sering berkunjung ke New York maupun kota-kota sekitarnya.

Racism and repression in West Papua

Mekong Review

Five books, reviewed by Andreas Harsono, describe West Papua's tormented history

An Act of Free Choice: Decolonisation and the Right to Self-Determination in West Papua

Oneworld Academic: 2009

Updating Papua Road Map

Yayasan Pustaka Obor Indonesia: 2017

Seakan Kitorang Setengah Binatang: Rasialisme Indonesia di Tanah Papua

Deiyai, Jayapura: 2014

Morning Star Rising: The Politics of Decolonization in West Papua

University of Hawaii Press: 2021

In the Shadow of the Palms: More-Than-Human Becomings in West Papua

Duke University Press: 2022

If you visit Indonesia’s National Library—home to 7.7 million physical books—and do a search with the keywords “West Papua”, “Irian Jaya” or even simply “Papua”, you’ll find a rather modest number of results in Dutch, English and Indonesian: just 1,192 titles. The thin collection reflects not only how complicated it is to unpack and analyse the West Papua conundrum but also how successful the Indonesian government has been at restricting independent research on environmental degradation, human rights abuses and the suffering of Indigenous Papuans.

Since the late 1960s, the Indonesian government has severely restricted foreign journalists and international rights monitors from visiting the highly militarised area, as Pieter Drooglever chronicles in his book, An Act of Free Choice: Decolonisation and the Right to Self-Determination in West Papua, available in the National Library. In 1999, the Dutch parliament requested that the Institute of Netherlands History in The Hague produce a comprehensive review of the decolonisation of West Papua, hoping that the fall of Suharto, who’d been president for three decades, would open up dialogue between Indonesia and West Papua.

Drooglever, a historian, was appointed to lead the study. He examined archives in the Netherlands, the United States, the United Nations and Australia, but wasn’t given access to Indonesia’s National Archives in Jakarta. He also interviewed Papuans and Indonesians who’d been involved in the transitional period in the 1960s. He published his 807-page book in Dutch twenty-seven years later, in 2005. An English translation was published in 2009 and the Indonesian translation appeared in 2010. Drooglever hoped his book would help Indonesians seek a peaceful solution in West Papua, as had happened in Timor-Leste in 1999 with a United Nations–organised referendum, and in Aceh in 2004, with an agreement signed in Helsinki granting the territory special autonomy. His wish has not yet come to pass.

In An Act of Free Choice, Drooglever writes that the Dutch Kingdom had, in the 1950s, tried to establish a functional administration in “Dutch New Guinea” with schools, hospitals, security, roads and other facilities. They were learning from their failures in the Netherlands Indies, which declared independence in 1945, fought against returning Dutch forces and became the sovereign Republic of Indonesia in 1949. The Dutch Kingdom set up an administration in New Guinea with two highly educated Dutch scholars holding top executive posts. Although some of the Papuan elite initially welcomed the idea of integration with Indonesia, they changed their minds between the 1950s and 1960s as they watched the neighbouring country transform from a progressive new republic to an aggressive military-dominated state. Preparations began, with support from the Dutch, for West Papua to eventually become a self-governing administration.

Indonesia invaded West Papua in 1962; the Dutch were pressured by the United States into negotiating and signing the New York Agreement a year later. This agreement provided for a plebiscite, supervised by the United Nations, that would let Papuans decide if they wanted to join Indonesia. But, as Drooglever describes in a chapter entitled ‘Under Jakarta’s Thumb’, the United Nations Temporary Executive Authority was continually manipulated, pressured and fooled. Lambertus Nicodemus Palar, then the Indonesian representative to the United Nations, openly admitted that Subandrio, the Indonesian foreign minister, didn’t want a plebiscite. Instead, the Indonesian authorities organised a referendum known as the Act of Free Choice, in which about 1,000 government-selected delegates voted for a merger with Indonesia. Most Papuans say they were denied their right to choose and continue to demand a separate nation. Although the independence movement is largely peaceful, there are some long-standing armed groups. Today, West Papua remains Indonesia’s most underdeveloped and poverty-stricken province and human rights abuses are rife.

Another book available in the National Library is the 2019 Updating Papua Road Map, a follow-up to a 2009 book published by the Indonesian Institute of Sciences (Lembaga Ilmu Pengetahuan Indonesia, or LIPI). The volume’s authors criticise the Indonesian government’s security approach in West Papua, urging them to hold a dialogue with West Papuan groups instead. Muridan Widjojo, the lead researcher, notes: “These dialogues do not kill anyone, and if failed, we could always try again.”

Contributors to Updating Papua Road Map describe four main problems in West Papua, starting with the marginalisation of Indigenous Papuans. Settlers from Indonesia—particularly from the densely populated Java—have made indigenous people a minority in their own lands. Development programmes have not only failed to meet Papuans’ basic needs in terms of education, health and economic welfare, but have also caused environmental destruction. Furthermore, the Indonesian authorities have turned a blind eye to state violence against Papuans, failing to punish perpetrators or restore the rights of victims. There’s now a deep mistrust, among Papuans, of the Indonesian authorities.

The authors of Updating Papua Road Map managed to persuade the Indonesian government to agree to a non-governmental Papua Peace Dialogue involving LIPI researchers and some Papuan civil society leaders. The process started in 2010 and was led by Widjojo and Neles Tebay, a Papuan intellectual and Catholic priest; they travelled from one regency to another throughout West Papua. This effort culminated in a public conference in July 2011, where a senior Indonesian security minister delivered a keynote speech welcoming the idea of dialogue. Hundreds of Papuan leaders from different tribes—men and women, young and old—participated in the week-long event. The conference ended with the election of five Papuan leaders, all living in exile, to lead the dialogue with Indonesia. The five openly advocated independence from Indonesia. Unsurprisingly, this upset Indonesian officials, especially after the prominence that these five individuals gained from the conference contributed to the setting up of the Vanuatu-based United Movement for the Liberation of West Papua in 2014.

You won’t find the late Filep Karma’s book, Seakan Kitorang Setengah Binatang: Rasialisme Indonesia di Tanah Papua (As If We’re Half Animal: Indonesian Racism in the Land of Papua) in the National Library. Karma was perhaps West Papua’s most well-known political prisoner. He was first arrested in July 1998 and jailed for nearly two years for leading a protest on Biak Island at which Indonesian security forces gunned down more than 150 Papuans. He was later released after receiving presidential amnesty. In 2004, he led another peaceful protest in Jayapura and was sentenced to fifteen years in prison for treason. He was released in November 2015 and drowned while on a diving trip in November 2022.

In his book, Karma recalls how Papuan businesses thrived in Jayapura prior to integration with Indonesia. Jayapura—then already the largest city in West Papua—had more than twenty movie theatres. “Jayapura was like Hong Kong,” Siegfried Zöllner, a German missionary, wrote in his memoir about his first impression of the city in 1961.

Jayapura was looted by invading Indonesian soldiers upon their arrival in 1962; Karma describes finding steel cupboards, still bearing Jayapura hospital stamps, in a Surabaya hospital in East Java years later. And hardware wasn’t the only thing West Papua lost. Karma points out that, in the 1970s and 1980s, the Indonesian military and police imprisoned members of the Papuan elite, accusing them of committing treason by being “separatists” and taking over their businesses and lands. He argues that entrenched racism is the underlying problem: Papuans, with their darker skin and curly hair, look different. Indonesians often mock Papuans, calling them “monkeys” to imply that they’re lagging behind in evolution or describing Papuans as lazy, primitive or foul-smelling.

Even West Papua’s flora and fauna have been marginalised and displaced. Sophie Chao’s book, In the Shadow of the Palms: More-Than-Human Becomings in West Papua, focuses primarily on oil palms, only recently introduced into West Papua. Many ethnic Marind, the indigenous tribe in Merauke in West Papua’s south, consider the crop “alien and invasive”. Apart from land grabs and human rights abuses around oil palm plantations, Chao finds that the “foreign plant” is destroying native animals and their local habitats.

In Merauke, where Chao did her anthropological research, Papuans make up less than 40 per cent of the population. She writes that “mortality rates are high, life expectancies are 35 years for men and 38 for women, and HIV infection rates are the second highest in Indonesia”. She also argues that the introduction of oil palms has significantly increased armed conflict in West Papua. Apart from importing this non-native plant, the Indonesian government has also encouraged large-scale transmigration since the 1970s, subsidising settlers and triggering conflict between communities. Many Papuans have armed themselves with bows and arrows to defend their land. Militant groups have also acquired firearms, mostly from the black market, with supplies coming from Indonesian security officers. While some might be profiting handsomely from oil palm plantations, the introduction of this industry has perpetuated West Papua’s long-standing problems.

The West Papua conundrum is not just a local question; it’s also one of international law. In Morning Star Rising: The Politics of Decolonization in West Papua, Camellia Webb-Gannon forcefully questions the international rationale to integrate West Papua with Indonesia in 1969. Uti possidetis juris  is a principle in international law which says that newly formed sovereign states should retain the internal borders they had as a colony prior to independence. In this case, the principle was taken to mean that the Netherlands Indies, including West Papua, would become Indonesia. Yet this question is nowhere near settled.

Webb-Gannon cites the arguments of Akihisa Matsuno, an international relations scholar who challenged the legitimacy of uti possidetis juris by pointing to the January 2011 referendum that foregrounded South Sudan becoming an independent state. There were significant ethnic, linguistic, religious and social differences between North and South Sudan, and the British ruled them as separate colonial entities. Therefore, Sudan’s history suggests that a lack of integration, whether natural or historical, between areas ruled by the same colonial power can be used to justify the establishment of separate states. Colonial boundaries, like all other man-made constructs, aren’t as absolute as they are sometimes made out to be.

The Sudan experience could be particularly instructive in the case of West Papua. As Drooglever underlines in his writing, West Papua had a different history of occupation from the rest of Indonesia. The Dutch occupation of West Papua was shorter and the entire island was liberated by the US military in 1944. There are religious differences too: unlike much of the rest of Indonesia, where Islam is the dominant religion, Christianity has more influence in West Papua.

Most of the Papuans in Webb-Gannon’s book are part of the diaspora. Andy Ajamiseba, based in Vanuatu and a member of the Black Brothers, a Papuan rock band, talks about how Papuans see themselves: “The issue here is that identification of ourselves, our identity is—we are not Indonesian. Maybe when we become independent, the situation may be [that] our economy is not as good as [it was] under Indonesia, we have to crawl out, but we want to be ourselves. I am a Papuan. In all due respect to the Indonesians… we are two different people: we are not Indonesians; they are not Papuans.”

Benny Wenda, a leader of the United Movement for the Liberation of West Papua who is currently living in Oxford, England, denies that the freedom Papuans seek is primarily metaphysical or spiritual. Referring to the Indonesian struggle for merdeka (independence) against Dutch colonisers, he says: “If [Indonesians just] wanted freedom spiritually, why did they fight against the Dutch?”

Morning Star Rising doesn’t pretend that all Papuans are united in goals and tactics. A major split is frequently traced to a 1976 feud within the Free Papua Movement (Organisasi Papua Merdeka, or OPM) in the jungles of Keerom, near the border with Papua New Guinea. Conflict—involving a misunderstanding about foreign relations and also ethnicity—erupted between Jacob Prai, the scholar of the group and a native Keerom, and Seth Rumkorem, the movement’s military man and an ethnic Biak. Both men later sought refuge in Europe. The movement suffered a mild setback with Rumkorem living in the Netherlands and Prai in Sweden.

Webb-Gannon also describes the practice of pemekaran, the rapid creation of new administrative and budgetary units in West Papua by the Indonesian government, which has caused disunity in the Papuan community. In June 2022, for instance, the Indonesian parliament divided West Papua, previously governed as two provinces, into six administrative areas. These moves are widely viewed by many Papuans as a ‘divide and rule’ tactic in which a small minority of Papuans are given limited control over divided regions.

Despite this, West Papuan politics revolves around, and can achieve, periodic strategic consensus, including with the United Movement for the Liberation of West Papua, an umbrella organisation for some of the pro-independence factions. Webb-Gannon writes: “Working toward consensus through debate and disagreement as West Papuans do is democratic; it is also a key characteristic of Melanesian political style, which reflects Melanesia’s traditionally acephalous [leaderless] social structures.”

In his book’s final paragraph, Drooglever writes: “The possibilities for a better future for the inhabitants of western New Guinea can also be found in Indonesia’s interest in the area, for Indonesia not only has a tradition of military and authoritarian rule, but also of cultured interaction and efforts to provide good government. We can only hope that the latter two aspects gain the upper hand.”

The National Library may not contain a lot on West Papua, but books like the five reviewed here describe its tormented history. They reveal the trickery and obfuscation by Indonesian leaders to stave off international criticism for its abuses while capturing this naturally rich territory. Papuans have also learned from the failures of the older generations; they continue to defend their rights and resist oppressive Indonesian rule.

Andreas Harsono works for Human Rights Watch. He has covered West Papua since the 1996 kidnapping of international biologists in the Central Highlands.

Religious Intolerance, Discriminatory Regulations Against Minorities in Indonesia

History of discrimination from narrow definition to “religious harmony” in Indonesia.

By Andreas Harsono

A statue of Mother Mary and Jesus, still inside a crate in the parish of St. Joannes Baptista in Parung. It has applied to have a building permit for more than two decades. Religious minorities have difficulties securing building permits in Indonesia, especially since 2006 when the government introduced “religious harmony” regulation.   © 2024 Andreas Harsono/Human Rights Watch

On August 16, 1945, the day after Japan surrendered to the Allied Forces in World War II, a 21-member independence preparation committee finished debating Indonesia’s proposed new constitution in Jakarta, the former Dutch colonial capital of Batavia. The debate was about whether an independent Indonesia should be an Islamic state or a secular one.

The committee reached a compromise. Islam would not be the state religion but could be interpreted to mean that the state had a special responsibility to uphold Sharia, or Islamic law. The draft contained seven words in Bahasa Indonesia that, when translated, meant, “Belief in the one and only God with the obligation for adherents of Islam to practice Sharia.” They called this sentence, along with four other principles, the Jakarta Charter.

Early Debates on Religion and State

During the debate, held at the residence of a sympathetic Japanese admiral, who still occupied Indonesia, the committee also agreed to declare independence on the morning of August 17. The members assigned Sukarno and Mohammad Hatta, two leading committee members, to sign the declaration “in the name of the nation of Indonesia.” The meeting ended at 5 a.m. on August 17. Five hours later, Sukarno and Hatta read out a brief statement, proclaiming Indonesia’s independence outside Sukarno's house – a few blocks from Rear Admiral Tadashi Maeda’s residence.

The statement didn’t confront the Allied Forces, who expected a return to the status quo in what had been the Netherlands Indies, but also didn’t seek a legal transfer of sovereignty from the Japanese. Instead, it unleashed the energy and emotion of millions of people in the former Netherlands Indies to defend the independence declaration, exploiting the power vacuum and the exhaustion from living a hard life under Japanese occupation since 1942.

The Dutch Kingdom had taken over the administration of the archipelago since 1800 after nationalizing the Amsterdam-based Dutch East India Company – a huge joint-stock company that had established a monopoly of spices in the islands, while also trying to accommodate multiple religious groups, especially Muslims and Christians.

Many young activists soon used the telephone and telegraph to spread the news. Radios and newspapers were still under the control of the Japanese Army. The activists sent word to the cities of Bandung and Yogyakarta. They moved along the streets of Jakarta, putting up banners and scrawling graffiti in English on the walls.

“We fight for freedom, sovereignty and independence.”

“Go to hell, imperialism! Merdeka!”

“We are free, Indonesia is free.”

“Indonesia will never again be the lifeblood of any nation.”

The Malay word “Merdeka” or “Freedom” was soon widely used in urban areas throughout the main Indonesian island of Java.

The same evening, at the elegant Hotel des Indes, several delegates from the islands of eastern Indonesia, covering a vast region from Borneo to Bali, and the Maluku Islands, discussed the new charter and found themselves troubled by those seven words. Andi Pangerang Petta Rani, an aristocrat from the Bone sultanate in southern Sulawesi, said the new state should be separated from Islam. Samuel Ratu Langie, a Minahasan leader from northern Sulawesi, agreed and said, “Eastern Indonesia will make its move.”

Ratu Langie then accompanied Johannes Latuharhary from the Malukus Islands, I.G. Ketoet Poedja from Bali, Pangerang Petta Rani, and two other politicians from Kalimantan to a student dormitory and asked the mostly medical students to approach Mohammad Hatta and tell him that if this draft constitution was not changed, “Eastern Indonesia would not join Indonesia.” They demanded a secular nation-state that separated religion and state.

The group eventually asked three students – Piet Mamahit, Moeljo Hastrodipoero and Tan Tjeng Bok – to meet Hatta. Hatta met with them that evening and found the message important enough to pass on to Sukarno. The students told Hatta that the Sharia provision would relegate religious minorities “to live as second-class citizens in Indonesia.” Separately, Mohammad Hasan of Aceh, another committee member, also told Sukarno that Ratu Langie had said Eastern Indonesia would not be willing to join Indonesia unless the draft constitution was changed.

On August 18, Hatta, who was also not in favor of a state based on Islam, met with four Muslim politicians – Mohammad Hasan of Aceh, Bagoes Hadikoesoemo, Wahid Hasjim, and Kasman Singodimedjo, who represented Islamic groups on Java Island. Hatta, a devout Muslim who believed that Islam could help Indonesia achieve greater social justice, also held a deeply rooted belief in secularism. This reputation helped Hatta persuade the four Muslim politicians. Hasan stressed the importance of national unity. It was imperative not to drive important Christian minorities – Batak, Minahasan and Ambonese – into the arms of the returning Dutch through discriminatory provisions. They agreed to remove the Sharia phrase.

Sukarno announced the removal of the Islamic provisions in the plenary session on August 18. Instead, the plenary agreed on five principles, but it still included the phrase regarding “Belief in the one and only God.” Thus, the Pancasila – a Sanskrit expression meaning “five pillars” – was adopted and included the principles of a just and civilized humanity, Indonesian unity, democracy under the wise guidance of representative consultations, and social justice for all the people of Indonesia.

Hasjim, a committee member and leader of the Nahdlatul Ulama, the biggest Islamic organization in Indonesia, proposed that a Ministry of Religious Affairs be established as a substitute for the reference to Sharia that was deleted. He said that it would be “a bridge” connecting the state and Islam. Latuharhary rejected the idea, but Sukarno and Hatta accepted it.

A Dangerous Definition

In January 1946, the Ministry of Religious Affairs was established. It marked the beginning of a state institution designed to serve the Muslims – with Islamic schools and universities, the haj management and other Islamic affairs – but also facilitates discrimination against religious minorities in Indonesia. However, the new republic first had to deal with the Allied Forces, including the Dutch, negotiating the transfer of power, which would finally take place in 1949. The Ministry’s initial task was to define what religion meant.

In 1952, the Ministry, under Wahid Hasjim, issued a definition to differentiate between “kepercayaan” (faith) and “agama” (religion). In Indonesian vocabulary, “kepercayaan” is officially used to cover multiple minor religions and spiritual movements. The ministry decreed that “kepercayaan” are “dogmatic ideas, intertwined with the living customs of various ethnic groups, especially among those who are still underdeveloped, whose main beliefs are the customs of their ancestors throughout the ages.” Meanwhile, “agama” was defined according to Jewish, Christian and Islamic understandings. If a community was to be recognized as “religious,” it had to adhere to “an internationally recognized monotheistic creed; taught by a prophet through the scriptures.” This discriminated against non-monotheistic religions including Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Zoroastrianism and hundreds of local religions and spiritual movements in Indonesia.

On Bali Island, the definition created confusion, even political disputes, among many Balinese whose traditional belief worships their ancestors, local deities, and multiple gods and goddesses, including those that originated from Hindu religion in India such as Vishnu, Brahma and Shiva. The French anthropologist Michel Picard wrote in a 2021 essay that the Balinese had formerly “no generic name to designate that which would later on become their religion.” They simply used the word “agama Bali.” The construction of Balinese religion has been framed by Islam and Christianity “to ward off the pressure of Muslim and Christian proselytizing,” Picard wrote. In 1952, they renamed their religion “agama Hindu Bali,” referring to Hinduism, and adopted the name “Sang Hyang Widhi” to designate the one and only God of the renamed religion. In Kalimantan, ethnic Dayak took steps like the Balinese, reorienting their Kaharingan belief to Hinduism to avoid being associated with Christianity or Islam. “The Hindus have helped us,” said a Dayak leader. “They’re like our umbrella.”

In June 1964, in Kuningan, western Java, the local government declared marriages of members of Sunda Wiwitan, an ethnic Sundanese religion, to be illegal. That move prompted 5,000 Sunda Wiwitan believers to convert to Catholicism, believing that joining the Roman Catholic Church would spare them from religious persecution.

As the Ministry of Religious Affairs grew powerful, various religious factions competed to gain control over it – “traditional Muslims” such as the Nahdlatul Ulama, and “modernist Muslims” such as the Muhammadiyah competed to fill posts at ministerial as well as lower positions, and inside various Islamic education institutions.

Problems for religious minorities escalated in January 1965 when then President Sukarno issued a decree that prohibited people from being hostile toward religions or committing blasphemy, which is defined as “abuse” and “desecration” of a religion. Sukarno decreed that the government would steer “mystical sects … toward a healthy way of thinking and believing in the One and Only God.” The decree, which gave official approval only to Islam, Protestantism, Catholicism, Hinduism, Buddhism and Confucianism, was immediately incorporated into the Criminal Code as article 156(a), with a maximum penalty of five years in prison. This has had disastrous effects until the present. The blasphemy law has been used to target religious minorities, including Christians, Ahmadiyah, Shia Muslims, and political opponents. Hundreds of people have been detained and tried under this law since 1968.

Religion Under Soeharto     

In October 1965, Major General Soeharto rose to power, replacing President Sukarno, ruling with the military’s backing, repressing opponents, seizing naturally rich lands, and abusing people’s rights. This was a period of mass killings by Indonesian soldiers, paramilitary groups, and Muslim militias. They killed as many as a million suspected Communist Party members, ethnic Chinese, and trade unionists, teachers, activists, and artists.

Soeharto started out as a different type of leader when it came to religious freedom. David Jenkins’ book, Young Soeharto: The Making of a Soldier, 1921-1945, delves into Soeharto’s early life. What emerges from the details is the story of a man who was not just a Muslim, but also a practitioner of Javanese folk religion, Kejawen, that married animism, Buddhist, and Hindu traditions. Soeharto appeared determined to limit the power of Indonesia’s Islamists. In 1978, he created a directorate within the Ministry of Education to service traditional religions, including Kejawen, telling the Indonesian parliament, “These beliefs are part of our national tradition, and need not to be opposed to [established] religions.” Soeharto did not push the Ministry of Religious Affairs to serve local religions like Kejawen, Sunda Wiwitan or Kaharingan, but instead put the mandate under the Ministry of Education, changing its name to the Ministry of Education and Culture. His education minister, Daoed Joesoef, a devout Muslim from Aceh, issued a regulation on state school uniforms to ban the hijab – the head, neck, and chest covering worn by many Muslim women and girls in fulfillment of their religious beliefs. He issued the ban amid the growing influence from the Middle East, first coming from Iran, which promoted mandatory hijab regulation for Muslim women and girls.

In 1991, President Soeharto reversed his approach toward the Islamists, though, after starting to lose the military’s backing. He made a pilgrimage to Mecca, promoted his Islamic credentials, embraced political Islam, and extended his support for the Indonesian Association of Muslim Intellectuals, where many Islamists channel their political aspirations. He also backed the Indonesian Ulama Council. The Ministry of Education and Culture issued new guidelines on school uniforms that allowed “special clothing,” which gave birth to policies making state schools allow their female teachers and students to wear the hijab. This marked the beginning of the slippery slope toward greater Islamization in Indonesia, all to protect Soeharto’s continued rule and his accumulated wealth. In 1998, after 33 years in power, Soeharto was forced to step down in the face of massive public protests at the height of the Asian economic crisis.

Post-Soeharto Discrimination and Violence         

President Soeharto’s actions of 1991 strengthened the Indonesian Ulama Council, which he had set up in 1975, and it became more powerful and intolerant of other religions. It used its growing influence to promote Sharia, with the more hardline Islamists using violence to advocate their agenda, including multiple bombings against religious minority communities on Bali and Java islands.

In 2004, the Ulama Council supported Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, a retired Army general, to win the presidential election, defeating the incumbent, Megawati Soekarnoputri. In return, Yudhoyono promised to consult the Ulama Council in policy making, further decreasing the separation between the state and the mosque. Yudhoyono accommodated the demands to promote Sharia in more than two dozen Muslim-majority provinces, including Aceh, using a new regional autonomy law. His administration strengthened the blasphemy law office –namely, the Coordinating Board for Monitoring Mystical Beliefs in Society (Bakor Pakem), under the Attorney General’s Office. It eventually led to the prosecution and imprisonment of 125 people in his decade in power – a steep rise from only 8 cases in the three decades during Soeharto’s rule.

The Yudhoyono administration also encouraged the proliferation of Sharia-inspired local regulations, ranging from mandatory hijab ordinances to discriminatory rules against religious minorities including Christians and non-Sunni minorities such as the Shia and the Ahmadiyah communities. The first mandatory hijab regulation was issued in West Sumatra province in 2001. Aceh issued the second one in 2002. By 2023, according to the National Commission on Violence Against Women, Indonesia had 120 mandatory hijab regulations. Dress codes forcing women and girls to wear a hijab have fueled widespread bullying that has caused many women and schoolgirls psychological distress. Girls who do not comply have been forced to leave government schools or have withdrawn under pressure, while female civil servants have lost their jobs or resigned to escape constant demands to conform.

In 2006, the Yudhoyono administration issued a so-called “religious harmony” regulation, essentially permitting regional governments to license the construction of houses of worship. It states that the construction should be based on the “real needs” and “composition of the population” in the area. Among other things, a permit requires written recommendations from the local branch of the Ministry of Religious Affairs and from the local branch of the Religious Harmony Communication Forum (Forum Kerukunan Umat Beragama or FKUB).

The problem lies mostly with the FKUB. Governors, regents and mayors decide who will be members of the forum. According to the regulation, the composition of members should be “proportionate” to the percentage of worshippers in each area, creating a mostly Muslim-ulama dominated forum. Jakarta, for example, is 85 percent Muslim, meaning that 85 percent of the 21 members should be Muslim clerics. Most minorities in predominantly Sunni Muslim Indonesia have difficulties establishing or renovating their houses of worship, including Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, Confucianists as well as Ahmadiyah and Shias but also some Muhammadiyah and Salafis.

The 2006 regulation allowed intolerant Muslims to use intimidation and violence to shut down what they claimed to be “illegal churches.” It’s not clear how many churches were forced to shut down as the Religious Affairs Ministry has not published data on this since 2006. According to data from several nongovernmental organizations, between 1,500 and 2200 churches were closed in almost two decades.

In 2008, the Yudhoyono administration issued an anti-Ahmadiyah decree following a 2005 anti-Ahmadiyah fatwa by the Indonesian Ulama Council, declaring that it is a deviant Islamic group and must not propagate their teaching. The first fatwa was issued in 1980 but the Soeharto government simply disregarded it, assuming, correctly, that it was only for internal usage among Muslims. It did not see it as government business. Sunni militant groups used the 2008 decree to justify attacks on more than 30 Ahmadiyah mosques. One raid became deadly in Cikeusik, Pandeglang, in February 2011, when more than 1,500 Sunni militants attacked an Ahmadiyah house, killing three men and wounding several others.

Those two regulations worried many intellectuals in Indonesia. Abdurrahman Wahid, a former president and the eldest son of Wahid Hasjim, a very influential Nahdlatul Ulama cleric, publicly defended religious minorities, including the Ahmadiyah, blaming the Yudhoyono government for such violence. In 2019, Wahid and three other Muslim clerics, plus seven non-governmental organizations, filed a petition against the blasphemy law at the Constitutional Court. They wanted the blasphemy law to be repealed. They argued the blasphemy law is more a political weapon than a law-and-order tool and has been used to incite anger among Muslims. The Constitutional Court ruled against them, in an 8-1 decision on April 19, 2010, stating that the blasphemy law was a lawful restriction on religious freedom because it allows for “the maintenance of public order.”

Human Rights Watch in 2013 published In Religion’s Name: Abuses against Religious Minorities in Indonesia, documenting the Indonesian government’s failure to confront Islamist militant groups, whose thuggish harassment and assaults on houses of worship and members of religious minorities, had become increasingly aggressive.

Four government institutions have played a role in the violation of the rights and freedoms of the country’s religious minorities – the Ministry of Religious Affairs, the Coordinating Board for Monitoring Mystical Beliefs in Society, the Religious Harmony Forum, and the semi-official Indonesian Ulama Council.

Rise in Discriminatory Regulations Under Jokowi

In 2014, Joko “Jokowi” Widodo’s win in the presidential election brought hope to many rights defenders and progressive religious leaders that he would try to defend the rights of religious minorities and undo the regressive measures of his predecessors. Jokowi did not do that. In fact, the biggest rally in support of the blasphemy law took place under his administration when his ally, Basuki Tjahaja Purnama, a Christian who succeeded him as the governor of Jakarta, was accused of committing blasphemy against Islam. A politically motivated smear campaign against Purnama led over 500,000 people to attend the rally on December 2, 2017.

Ma’ruf Amin, the chairman of the Indonesian Ulama Council, issued a statement against Purnama, declaring that a non-Muslim like Purnama should not comment on Quranic interpretation. It put pressure on the Jokowi government to accommodate hardline Muslims and to send Purnama to prison, altering the political landscape in Indonesia and moving it even further toward religious intolerance.

Jokowi later recruited some of those involved in the rally to join him in his second term, including appointing Amin vice president. Jokowi also appointed Prabowo Subianto Djojohadikusumo, a dismissed Army general who was involved in kidnapping activists in the 1990s, to be his defense minister. Prabowo had backed the 2017 rally in support of the blasphemy law. In 2024, Prabowo won the presidential election to succeed Jokowi. His running mate was Jokowi’s eldest son, Gibran Raka.

The mandatory hijab regulations also victimized more women and girls. In thousands of state schools, non-Muslim girls have also been forced to wear the hijab. In January 2021, Elianu Hia shared a video on Facebook recording his meeting with his daughter’s teacher in Padang, West Sumatra, during which the teacher pressured him to make his daughter, herself a Christian, to wear a hijab. The video went viral, resulting in the Ministry of Education telling the school to end the discriminatory policy against Christian girls. But a social boycott against Elianu Hia caused him to lose his small business.

Meanwhile, continuing Yudhoyono’s foreign policy, Jokowi directed Indonesian diplomats to present Indonesia internationally as a “moderate” Muslim nation, an alternative to the “despotic” and “chaotic” Middle East. But the reality could not have been more different. The number of discriminatory regulations kept growing during the Jokowi administration.

In December 2022, the Indonesian parliament, with the support of President Jokowi and Vice President Amin, passed a new criminal code. Its blasphemy chapter was increased from one to six articles, albeit with a shorter prison term providing for a maximum three years for blasphemy instead of five years. It also includes an article outlawing leaving a religion or a belief as apostasy. Anyone who attempts to persuade a person to be a non-believer in a religion or belief can be prosecuted and imprisoned. The new criminal code is another serious setback to protecting freedom of religion and belief in Indonesia. It bucks the global trend toward decreasing enforcement of blasphemy laws or scrapping them altogether.

The new law also provides that the government will recognize “any living law” in the country, which is likely to be interpreted to extend formal legality to more than 700 Sharia-inspired regulations across the country. Many of these regulations discriminate against women and girls, such as providing for curfews for women, female genital mutilation, and mandatory hijab dress codes. Many of these regulations also discriminate against lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people.

A Way Forward

In February 2023, the Nahdlatul Ulama made a surprising, yet positive decision. Mustofa Bisri, a senior Nahdlatul Ulama cleric, at the end of a conference in Sidoarjo, East Java, read their conclusion: “NU is of the view that the old view rooted in classical jurisprudence, namely the ideal of uniting all Muslims under a single worldwide umbrella or a caliphate state, must be replaced with a new vision.” The Nahdlatul Ulama decided to support the United Nations Charter, the founding document of the UN and an instrument of international law, saying the UN served all people equally, “not only Muslims.” "For this reason, the UN charter can be the basis for developing new jurisprudence in order to uphold a peaceful and harmonious human civilization,” Bisri said. 

Ahmad Suaedy, also a Nahdlatul Ulama scholar and a former aide to Abdurrahman Wahid, wrote in The Jakarta Post, “Even in Indonesia, whose constitution is not based on a particular religious identity but on the state ideology Pancasila … the Muslim majority is still often involved in discrimination by forcing the state to support them.” This decision by Indonesia’s largest Islamic organization to develop a new approach with the UN Charter in mind should bring fresh air toward religious freedom in Indonesia.

Now, whether Indonesia’s religious minorities will enjoy equal rights, including to practice their religious belief, will depend on what the Indonesian government and the Nahdlatul Ulama, will do to reverse the eight decades of discrimination and violence against them. The government should begin by withdrawing hundreds of discriminatory regulations and taking measures toward accountability for violence and abuse faced by millions of Indonesians simply for practicing their religious belief. They should also redefine what Indonesia considers to be “religion,” using UN standards rather than the narrow definition adopted in 1952. 

Andreas Harsono works for Human Rights Watch in Jakarta. He helped found the Jakarta-based Alliance of Independent Journalists in 1994, and in 2003 he helped create the Pantau Foundation, a journalist training organization also in Jakarta. He presented this paper at the third International Interfaith Conference on Peace and Inclusive Communities held in Jakarta, Indonesia on November 21-23, 2023.

It is published in: Sabine Hübner, Andar Parlindungan, Jochen Motte (eds.), Peace among the People. Interreligious Action for Peace and Inclusive communities. Documentation of the third International Interfaith Conference on Peace and Inclusive Communities in Jakarta, Indonesia, November 2023 (For human rights 24), Solingen: foedus-verlag 2024.

References

Belford, Aubrey: “Borneo Tribe Practices Its Own Kind of Hinduism,” The New York Times, September 25, 2011.

Engelen, O.E. / Lubis, Aboe Bakar: Lahirnya Satu Bangsa dan Negara, Jakarta: Universitas Indonesia Press, 1997.

Harsono, Andreas: “Forced from Home for Protesting Indonesia’s Mandatory Hijab Rules,” Human Rights Watch, March 17, 2023.

Harsono, Andreas: Race, Islam and Power: Ethnic and Religious Violence in Post-Suharto Indonesia, Melbourne: Monash University Publication, 2019.

Hoesterey, Jim: “Saints, Scholars and Diplomats: Religious Statecraft and the Problem of ‘Moderate Islam’ in Indonesia,” in: Religious Pluralism in Indonesia: Threats and Opportunities for Democracy, Ithaca, New York: Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 2021 (editor Chiara Formichi).

Human Rights Watch: “I Wanted to Run Away”. Abusive Dress Codes for Women and Girls in Indonesia, March 18, 2021.

Human Rights Watch: “Indonesia: Court Ruling a Setback for Religious Freedom,” April 19, 2010.

Iman C.Sukmana, Menuju Gereja Yang Semakin Pribumi: Analisis Konflik Internal Dalam Gereja Eks-ADS, Jakarta: Penerbit Universitas Atma Jaya, 2011.

Jenkins, David: Young Soeharto: The Making of a Soldier, 1921-1945, Singapore: ISEAS – Yusof Ishak Institute, 2021.

Media Jatim, “Bacakan Rekomendasi Muktamar Internasional Fikih Peradaban I, Gus Mus: NU Tolak Negara Khilafah dan Dukung Piagam PBB,” February 7, 2023.

Nakamura, Mitsuo: “Nahdlatul Ulama in Indonesia, a New Era with the ‘New Gus Dur’, in: Islam Nusantara, Volume 4 No. 3, Jakarta 2023.

Noer, Deliar: Administration of Islam in Indonesia, Ithaca: Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, Cornell University, 1978.

Picard, Michel: “Agama Hindu Under Pressure from Muslim and Christian Proselytizing,” in: Religious Pluralism in Indonesia: Threats and Opportunities for Democracy, Ithaca, New York: Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 2021 (editor Chiara Formichi).

Suaedy, Ahmad: “A century of NU: Aswaja, 'fiqh' of civilization, a new platform of Islam,” in: The Jakarta Post, February 6, 2023. 

Perundungan, Intimidasi, dan Kekerasan Wajib Jilbab

Sebuah sekolah negeri di Cibinong, dekat Jakarta, dengan aturan wajib jilbab. Ia salah satu sekolah yang muncul dalam laporan Human Rights Watch dengan beberapa kasus pemaksaan jilbab. 

PADA November 2010, Human Rights Watch menerbitkan laporan setebal 89 halaman, berjudul, Policing Morality: Abuses in the Application of Sharia in Aceh, Indonesia. Ia berisi persoalan yang ditimbulkan dua aturan daerah soal busana perempuan serta lelaki serta perempuan yang berduaan. 

Pada Maret 2021, Human Rights Watch menerbitkan laporan 98 halaman dengan judul “I Wanted to Run Away": Abusive Dress Codes for Women and Girls in Indonesia. Ia mencakup wilayah yang lebih luas di Indonesia. 

Ia mendokumentasikan bagaimana puluhan aturan wajib jilbab di Indonesia, muncul sejak tahun 2001 di Sumatera Barat, memicu berbagai pemaksaan jilbab, intimidasi, diskriminasi, dan kekerasan terhadap anak sekolah maupun perempuan dewasa. Ia menyebar ke seluruh Indonesia, pada 2002 Aceh sampai 2022 di Sulawesi Selatan. 

Pelanggaran terjadi pada empat sektor: sekolah negeri; pegawai negeri; para pengunjung perempuan di berbagai kantor pemerintahan; dalam daerah yang lebih terbatas juga terjadi di tempat publik misalnya Aceh dimana semua perempuan harus berjilbab di luar rumah mereka. 

Pelanggaran terjadi terhadap kebebasan beragama dan berekspresi, best interest of the child (hak anak), hak akan pekerjaan buat orang dewasa, perlindungan minoritas dari diskriminasi --perempuan non-Muslim juga dipaksa berjilbab-- serta hak akan privacy dan personal autonomy. 

Saya menaruh berbagai laporan dan video soal masalah jilbab dalam halaman ini agar ia mudah dipakai siapa pun yang tertarik mempelajari berbagai pelanggaran ini. Ia termasuk video yang direkam Elianu Hia, seorang ayah di Padang, Sumatera Barat, ketika mendatangi sekolah putrinya, bertanya soal mengapa putrinya, seorang Kristen, dipaksa berjilbab. 

Enforce Dress Code Ban

Human Rights Watch dukung Surat Keputusan Bersama 3 Menteri yang memerdekakan anak dan guru perempuan memilih busana mereka sendiri.

Brave Indonesian Women Discuss Freedom to Choose What to Wear

Tujuh perempuan Indonesia tampil mendukung SKB 3 Menteri soal kedaulatan siswi dan guru perempuan memilih busana mereka. 

Dress Codes Discriminate Against Women, Girls

Siaran pers Human Rights Watch saat peluncuran laporan Maret 2021. Ia diterjemahkan ke 11 bahasa termasuk Indonesia. Semua karya ditulis aslinya dalam bahasa Inggris. 

Daftar Aturan Wajib Jilbab di Indonesia

Human Rights Watch mengumpulkan setidaknya 64 aturan wajib jilbab, dari tingkat daerah sampai nasional di seluruh Indonesia. Komnas Perempuan menyimpan hardcopy semua aturan ini.

Kita semua adalah Nadya: Shariahisasi melalui 'jilbabisasi'

Julia Suryakusuma menulis kolom The Jakarta Post soal dampak jilbabisasi dengan contoh Nadya Karima Melati, dulu siswi sebuah SMAN2 Cibinong, yang cemas karena perundungan terus-menerus. 

Aceh Harusnya Juga Masuk SKB 3 Menteri soal Seragam Sekolah

Widiya Hastuti menulis bahwa aturan wajib jilbab di Aceh memicu tekanan sosial, perundungan, dan intimidasi terhadap perempuan. Ia melanggar melanggar konstitusi dan perjanjian Helsinki.

Tuhan, Aku Bertanya Pada-Mu

Puisi karya Ifa Hanifah Misbach, seorang psikolog Bandung, yang sering bantu pasien perempuan yang cemas karena perundungan dan intimidasi jilbab. 

Indonesia Supreme Court Supports Mandatory Jilbab Rule

Mahkamah Agung membatalkan SKB 3 Menteri yang memperbolehkan jutaan anak dan guru perempuan buat mendapatkan hak dasar mereka: memilih busana.

Petisi Indonesia: Hentikan Perundungan dan Intimidasi lewat Aturan Busana

Lebih dari 800 tokoh masyarakat di Indonesia protes terhadap keputusan tiga hakim Mahkamah Agung yang batalkan SKB 3 Menteri. 

Perempuan Indonesia Buka Suara soal Aturan Berpakaian

Para pelajar sekolah negeri dan pegawai negeri perempuan berikan kesaksian berbagai sanksi dan penderitaan mereka akibat peraturan wajib jilbab.

Pura ‘Tersembunyi’ di Padang: Bagaimana Kami Membangun Pura Satu-Satunya di Sumatera Barat

Ni Putu Eka Budi, seorang Hindu Bali dan lahir di Padang, menulis bagaimana dia ditekan buat berjilbab, mengucapkan syahadat di Padang. 

Siswi SMAN 1 Banguntapan yang Dipaksa Jilbab Pilih Pindah Sekolah

Seorang siswi SMAN1 Banguntapan lari ke toilet sesudah dipaksa "hijab tutorial" oleh tiga guru. Siswi menangis, menolak kembali ke sekolah tsb. 

Terancam Kehilangan Rumah, Protes Aturan Wajib Hijab

Sebuah keluarga Kristen, protes aturan wajib jilbab di SMKN2 Padang. Dampaknya, boikot sosial, bisnis keluarga bangkrut, terancam rumah disita.

Kesaksian Siswi tentang Wajib Jilbab dan Perundungan di Indonesia

Komnas Perempuan gelar rapat dengar pendapat, pertama di Indonesia, masalah peraturan wajib jilbab.

Nisa Alwis

Chairunnisa Aminuddin seorang pengelola pesantren di Pandeglang, Banten, yang didirikan ayahnya Aminuddin. Dia menulis buku, Puber Beragama di Negeriku dan memimpin "Serumpun Bakung" komunitas  yang bantu perempuan korban perundungan dan intimidasi atas nama "wajib jilbab." Dia sering menulis lewat Facebook. 

Arief Budiman dan gerakan sosial di Salatiga

Ulang tahun Arief Budiman bersama murid-muridnya (Januari 2018). ©Andreas Harsono

Pada 1984, saya mulai kenal Arief Budiman, tiga tahun sesudah dia lulus Universitas Harvard, pindah dari Cambridge ke Salatiga, mengajar di Universitas Kristen Satya Wacana. Arief mungkin dosen paling beken di Salatiga. Dia naik sepeda, sering terengah-engah ketika tanjakan. Dia sering muncul di media, sering menulis kolom, serta punya riwayat aktivisme sejak 1960an dengan Manifesto Kebudayaan dan 1970an dengan protes Golongan Putih yang boikot pemilihan umum ala Orde Baru.

Saya mengikuti kuliahnya tentang kesetaraan gender di mana dia berbicara soal diskriminasi terhadap perempuan, kesehatan reproduksi, keluarga berencana, serta menyarankan mahasiswa laki-laki untuk vasektomi. Dia bilang, vasektomi lebih aman daripada pil, kondom, atau susuk.

“Saya juga lakukan vasektomi,” katanya.

Kami membaca buku Arief, Pembagian Kerja Secara Seksual (1985) plus buku Simone de Beauvoir The Second Sex (1949). Dalam buku-buku tersebut, mereka menerangkan bagaimana perempuan dibikin dan diasuh (nurtured) buat menerima apa yang sebenarnya tidak alamiah (natural). 

Perempuan secara natural melahirkan dan menyusui. Ketika kecil, mereka didorong main boneka, masak-memasak dan sejenisnya. Mereka tak diasuh buat main teknologi, militer, olahraga dan sejenisnya. 

Ketika dewasa, mereka tak didorong masuk ke sektor publik, termasuk dalam pekerjaan, misalnya, teknologi, militer. Perempuan dibina agar masuk dalam sektor domestik, misalnya, mengasuh anak, memasak, mengurus rumah dan sejenisnya. Saya belajar banyak soal hak perempuan dari Arief dan De Beauvoir. 

Pada 1986, ada rencana pemerintah kota Salatiga menggusur becak. Beberapa tukang becak protes, belakangan, juga dibantu mahasiswa. Arief ikut menulis sebuah kolom di harian Suara Merdeka. Dia mendorong saya menulis kolom. Isinya, kritik soal kebijakan motorisasi di Indonesia.

Motorisasi mengandalkan mobil dan motor serta jalan aspal, dari jalanan desa sampai jalan tol, dengan menyingkirkan moda transportasi lain –trotoar buat pejalan kaki, kereta api, sepeda pancal, becak dan seterusnya. Motorisasi ini akan hancurkan trotoar, singkirkan becak, sepeda dan dokar, menciptakan kemacetan lalu lintas, polusi udara dan derau, serta membuat negara tak mau lakukan investasi terhadap kereta api.

Perlahan-lahan saya masuk dalam lingkaran Arief Budiman. Tak ada yang formal tapi Arief memberi kami banyak bacaan, dari bukunya soal Salvador Allende di Chile sampai majalah The New Yorker serta samizdat seperti Inside Indonesia (Melbourne) dan Tapol (London).

Saya terutama terpukau dengan The New Yorker. Wartawan Raymond Bonner datang dari New York, liputan selama dua bulan di Jakarta, Padang, Makassar, Jogjakarta dan Bandung. Dia tak bisa datang ke Dili karena militer Indonesia membuat Timor Timur daerah tertutup. Maka dia interview orang-orang Timor dan Portugis di Darwin, Australia. Hasilnya, liputan 40 halaman di The New Yorker edisi Juni 1988. Judulnya, “Indonesia: New Order.” Saya jadi mengenal banyak hal yang disensor oleh rezim Orde Baru. Saya juga jatuh cinta dengan jurnalisme yang memungkinkan liputan panjang.

Pada 1989, ketika rezim Suharto mulai menggenangi ratusan desa di Boyolali untuk pembangunan bendungan, Arief dan beberapa cendekiawan publik, termasuk pastor Y.B. Mangunwijaya, terlibat advokasi. Mereka protes Bank Dunia yang mendanai waduk Kedung Ombo tanpa pengamanan sosial terhadap warga desa. Beberapa kampus bikin solidaritas buat warga Kedung Ombo. Gerakan ini lumayan besar. Saya jalan ke Yogyakarta dan Jakarta guna menggalang solidaritas mahasiswa.

Pelajaran dari berbagai gerakan sosial ini adalah Arief Budiman selalu memberi murid-muridnya bacaan bermutu namun juga keberanian buat bergerak.

Makam Simone de Beauvoir di Paris.

Saya praktis membaca semua karya klasik soal Indonesia dari Universitas Cornell, Ithaca, dari George McTurnan Kahin sampai Benedict Anderson. Bacaan ini membuat mahasiswanya mengerti persoalan dengan luas dan dalam. Ia membuat kami punya perspektif. Tak kalah penting adalah keberanian moral. Arief memberikan contoh dalam menulis, lakuan protes, namun juga menjaga integritas dan kemandirian.

Saya pernah tanya kenapa tak pernah cantumkan gelar doktor dari Harvard –salah satu universitas paling terkemuka di dunia—seperti dosen-dosen lain.

Arief tersenyum. “Buat apa?”

Dia bilang lebih penting menulis dan menerangkan pengetahuan kepada masyarakat luas daripada menaruh gelar. Dia bilang, orang pandai dan berani belum tentu doktor.

Sikap ini lumayan rata di Universitas Kristen Satya Wacana. Ada cukup banyak dosen lain yang sering menulis kritis namun juga menunjukkan keberanian moral: Ariel Heryanto, Broto Semedi, I Made Samiana, Liek Wilardjo, Nathaniel Daldjoeni, Nico L. Kana, Pradjarta Dirdjosanjoto, Sutarno dan seterusnya.

Laku moral ini mempengaruhi banyak mahasiswa. Saya sampai sekarang merasa aneh bila lihat ada orang memasang gelar mereka –entah sarjana, master, doktor, profesor— di kartu nama bahkan di WhatsApp mereka. Di Salatiga, saya belajar sebaiknya kita menghindar berurusan dengan orang-orang model begini.

Salatiga makin kaya, secara intelektual, ketika George Aditjondro bergabung jadi dosen. Aditjondro membawa pemikiran kritis soal ketimpangan bukan saja antara mereka yang kaya dan yang miskin juga kesenjangan antara Jawa dan pulau-pulau seberang. George tahu soal minoritas Aceh, Dayak, Papua, Timor Leste serta berbagai gerakan lingkungan, dari pembabatan hutan sampai pembuatan bendungan raksasa.

Saya juga dekat dengan George, sering mengobrol di rumahnya sampai larut malam. George mendidik saya untuk mendalami transportasi berkesinambungan. Kami lantas membantu para sais dokar yang juga hendak digusur dari Salatiga pada 1990. Ini membuat mereka mendirikan Persatuan Sais Dokar lantas lakukan advokasi. Penggusuran dibatalkan. Mereka bahkan dapat terminal dokar.

George juga mendidik mahasiswa tentang pemikiran Frantz Fanon dari Martinique soal rasialisme terhadap orang kulit hitam. Salah satu sahabat George, anthropolog dan musikus Arnold Ap, mati dibunuh di Papua 1984. Mungkin tanpa George, saya masih akan berpikir bahwa orang Papua terbelakang, kurang terdidik, dan Papua memerlukan pembangunan ekonomi.

Erna Tege, isteri almarhum George Junus Aditjondro,
mengunjungi makam suaminya di Palu (2016).

©Andreas Harsono

Sering orang menilai George adalah rival Arief. Saya kira tidak lengkap. Di Salatiga, banyak dosen yang kritis. Mereka bergaul dengan biasa saja, diskusi, debat dan tukar pikiran, hubungan sosial juga biasa. Arief dan George adalah pemain tim. Mungkin mereka bintangnya namun mereka tetap anggota tim yang baik.

Enrico Aditjondro, anak George, menulis soal bagaimana Arief sering telepon, "Halo Rico, Oom Arief punya video Michael Jackson yang baru mau pinjem ga?"

Pada 1990, saya meninggalkan Salatiga, mulanya pindah ke Semarang, lantas Phnom Penh, lantas Jakarta. George menganjurkan saya bekerja sebagai reporter. Saya rutin komunikasi dengan mereka. Kadang juga menjadikan Arief atau George sebagai nara sumber. Di Jakarta pula, George yang mengajak saya “wisata kuliner” dari lapo Batak sampai masakan rica-rica ala Minahasa.

Hidup saya berubah drastis pada Juni 1994 ketika rezim Soeharto menutup mingguan Detik, Editor dan Tempo. Saya terlibat protes para wartawan dan ikut mendirikan Aliansi Jurnalis Independen pada Agustus 1994. Saya jadi sering bertemu Goenawan Mohamad dari Tempo, kebetulan juga sahabat Arief sejak sama-sama umur 19 tahun di Jakarta. Kami juga mendirikan Institut Studi Arus Informasi.

Pada November 1994, puluhan mahasiswa Timor Leste melompati kedutaan besar Amerika Serikat selama KTT APEC (Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation) berlangsung di Bogor. Saya sibuk meliput Presiden Bill Clinton bertemu Presiden Soeharto namun protes di kedutaan itu mendapat liputan media internasional tentang pendudukan Indonesia atas Timor Timur. Aksi yang jitu. Berhari-hari saya meliput depan kedutaan Amerika Serikat tanpa tahu bahwa para mereka merencanakan aksi dari Salatiga bersama George Aditjondro dan Arief Budiman.

Di Salatiga, pada 1995, Arief dipecat dari kampus karena sengkarut pemilihan rektor. Arief dan kawan-kawan disibukkan dengan berbagai kerusakan sosial yang terjadi di Salatiga akibat pemecatan tersebut: demontrasi besar-besaran serta keluarnya puluhan dosen lain. Suasana kampus tak pernah kembali kritis. Cita-cita Arief untuk riset dan bikin teori sosial hancur berantakan. Gerakan sosial dari Salatiga meredup. Universitas Kristen Satya Wacana perlahan jadi kampus kebanyakan di Pulau Jawa. Salatiga juga kehilangan pembangunan yang berkelanjutan: motorisasi makin menggila, trotoar menghilang, sepeda menghilang.

Keadaan di Indonesia menjadi genting ketika krisis ekonomi Asia menghantam pada Juli 1997. Namun Arief sudah pindah ke Melbourne. Bila berkunjung ke Jakarta, Arief sering nongkrong bersama Goenawan di sebuah kedai dekat kantor Institut Studi Arus Informasi. Mereka diskusi dari pembantaian orang Madura di Kalimantan sampai memilih kompromi atau tidak dengan masuk ke sistem politik di Indonesia. Goenawan memilih bikin Partai Amanat Nasional. Arief menolak dan menganggap perubahan pasca-Soeharto takkan terlalu besar tanpa mencari kebenaran pada kudeta merangkak terhadap Presiden Sukarno dan pembunuhan massal 1965-1969.

Mereka debat. Namun mereka akrab. Makan siang bersama, saling ledek, elo elo, gue gue.

Saya kira saya justru mengenal Arief lebih dekat lewat kawan-kawannya --Abdurrahman Wahid, Daniel Dhakidae, Goenawan, Marsillam Simanjuntak, Rahman Tolleng, Sobron Aidit, Umar Said dan lain-lain.

Arief Budiman menulis kolom soal
Restaurant Indonesia di Paris.

©Andreas Harsono

Namanya disebut ketika saya makan malam di Restaurant Indonesia di Paris dimana banyak orang komunis bekerja (“Arief dulu menulis di Kompas,” kata mereka). Namanya disebut ketika saya bertemu Siauw Tiong Djin, putra dari tokoh Baperki, Siauw Giok Tjan, di Melbourne (“Arief jujur menyatakan, salah sudah mendukung paham asimilasi di zaman Demokrasi Terpimpin”). Namanya disebut di kalangan 1965, kalangan sastra, kalangan wartawan, tukang becak, sais dokar.

Dan Arief dan Goenawan pula yang mendorong saya melamar beasiswa jurnalisme di Universitas Harvard. Mereka menulis rekomendasi. Mereka senang ketika saya diterima dan pindah ke Cambridge. Saya jadi tahu makna mentor yang bermutu. Mereka akan membantu buka jalan bila kita siap dengan perubahan.

Leila dan Arief Budiman (2017)

©Wisnu Tri Hanggoro

Pada 2017, saya mengunjungi Arief di Salatiga. Dia sudah sakit, sulit berjalan kalau tanpa bantuan. Namun dia masih bertanya soal berbagai penelitian saya untuk Human Rights Watch. Dia bertanya soal kenapa intoleransi meningkat di Indonesia. Dia bertanya soal pasal penodaan agama. Dia tampaknya tak senang melihat Gubernur Jakarta Basuki “Ahok” Purnama diserang dengan tuduhan penodaan agama Islam. Kami juga mengenang George Aditjondro yang meninggal 10 Desember 2016. Dia juga tanya soal kawan-kawannya di Jakarta: Abdul Hakim Garuda Nusantara, Goenawan dan lain-lain.

Saya telepon Goenawan dan membiarkan mereka berdua bicara.

Arief tanya apakah buku saya sudah terbit.

Masih belum. Saya malu, sudah lebih 10 tahun belum selesai.

Dia tersenyum.

Ketika Arief meninggal, 23 April 2020, saya menyesal belum sempat memberikan buku saya yang dia tanyakan tersebut. Buku itu sudah terbit.

Saya merenungkan kepergian Arief. Sikap rendah hati, mau belajar soal kesalahan diri sendiri, tak mau bikin repot orang, dan selalu mau menolong bila diperlukan adalah kualitas Arief Budiman yang membuatnya jadi guru bagi banyak orang. Ilmu takkan berguna tanpa keberanian buka suara. Arief memberi contoh perilaku moral yang baik tanpa harus berkhotbah. Dia hidup tanpa skandal. Dia tak tergoda kekuasaan: uang, ketenaran, jabatan. Saya kehilangan seorang mentor, juga George tentu, namun saya percaya Arief tak hilang. Nilai dan keberanian yang diperkenalkannya akan hidup jauh lebih lama dari dia.

***

Andreas Harsono, peneliti Human Rights Watch sejak 2008, ikut mendirikan Aliansi Jurnalis Independen, Institut Studi Arus Informasi, International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (Washington DC), dan Yayasan Pantau (Jakarta). Dia menulis beberapa buku: Jurnalisme Sastrawi: Antologi Liputan Mendalam dan Memikat (dengan Budi Setiyono); "Agama" Saya Adalah Jurnalisme; serta Race, Islam and Power: Ethnic and Religious Violence in Post-Suharto Indonesia.

Naskah ini muncul dalam buku Kanan Kiri Arief Budiman: Kenangan Murid dan Kawan bagi Seorang Cendekiawan di Garis Depan Perlawanan suntingan Eri Sutrisno dan Joss Wibisono. Ia berisi 27 naskah murid dan sahabat Arief Budiman guna memperingati 1,000 hari kepergian Arief Budiman pada 23 April 2020.

Ubud Festival: Lebih Dekat dengan Andreas Harsono

Tiket Early Bird dari Ubud Writers and Readers' Festival telah tersedia dan nama-nama pembicara tahap awal kami telah diumumkan. Pada seri ini, kami berbincang dengan penulis, seniman, dan pegiat untuk mengenal mereka lebih dekat sebelum mereka bergabung Oktober mendatang. Minggu ini, kami berbincang dengan Andreas Harsono, peneliti yang mengangkat golongan minoritas dan terpinggirkan di Indonesia. Buku terbarunya berjudul Race, Islam and Power: Ethnic and Religious Violence in Post-Suharto Indonesia.

"Makin bermutu jurnalisme di suatu masyarakat, makin bermutu pula masyarakat 
tersebut. Sebaliknya, makin buruk mutu jurnalisme dalam suatu masyarakat, 
makin buruk pula mutu masyarakat itu."

Apa yang membuat Anda mendalami dunia jurnalisme, menjadi seorang jurnalis sekaligus peneliti?

Saya lahir pada 1965 di Pulau Jawa –sebuah periode dan tempat dimana mulai pembunuhan terhadap orang komunis di Indonesia, setidaknya 500.000 orang-- serta diskriminasi dan kekerasan terhadap siapa pun yang dianggap komunis. Saya lahir dari keluarga Tionghoa. Mereka merupakan kelompok yang sering jadikan kambing hitam dalam sejarah Hindia Belanda maupun Indonesia.

Secara alamiah, saya tumbuh dengan ketakutan dan itu menimbulkan rasa ketidaksukaan terhadap diskriminasi, rasialisme maupun sektarianisme. Saya ingin melawan, menentang bahkan ingin memberontak namun tanpa kekerasan, tanpa sikap diskriminatif, sektarian atau rasialis. Kebetulan guru-guru saya menilai saya punya bakat menulis. Menulis adalah mencari kebenaran, melawan propaganda, melawan kebencian serta memperjuangkan keadilan.

Pada 1991, ketika lulus dari Universitas Kristen Satya Wacana –orang Tionghoa pada zaman Orde Baru dibatasi masuk sekolah negeri—saya dapat ilmu dan pengetahuan lumayan dari dosen-dosen bermutu macam Arief Budiman atau George Aditjondro. Mereka mendorong saya menjadi wartawan.

Saya pun bekerja sebagai wartawan, mulanya dengan Jakarta Post, lalu The Nation (Bangkok), The Star (Kuala Lumpur), dan Pantau (Jakarta). Pada 2008, saya bekerja sebagai peneliti untuk Human Rights Watch. Kerjanya, banyak lakukan riset, membaca, wawancara dan menulis.

Apa karya yang paling makan waktu yang Anda lakukan selama berkarya dalam tiga dekade ini?

Saya menghabiskan waktu 15 tahun, dari 2003 sampai 2018, buat menulis buku Race, Islam and Power: Ethnic and Religious Violence in Post-Suharto Indonesia. Persoalannya sederhana. Saya tak punya waktu guna menulis karya ini. Saya punya pekerjaan tetap. Mulanya, selama tiga tahun, saya berjalan dari Sabang sampai Merauke, dari Miangas sampai Ndana, dimana saya mendatangi lebih dari 90 lokasi berupa kuburan massal dan berbagai tempat kekerasan besar di Indonesia. Ini termasuk Aceh, pembantaian etnik Madura di Kalimantan, Pulau Jawa, Sulawesi, Ambon maupun Halmahera, sampai Timor Leste dan Papua. Saya membaca berbagai buku, laporan dan statistik soal kekerasan di berbagai tempat tersebut.

Human Rights Watch membuat saya lebih punya materi dan perjalanan untuk mendalami siklus kekerasan di Indonesia. Mengapa banyak tokoh di Indonesia sering memakai etnik dan agama, terutama Islamisme, guna meraih kekuasaan –dari pekerjaan pemerintahan sampai izin perampasan lahan buat tambang atau perkebunan. 

Putaran terakhir adalah cuti selama tiga bulan pada 2017 guna menyelesaikan buku. Mulanya, saya menulis 125.000 kata, dipotong 35.000, ditambah lagi 10.000 kata. Buku ini terbit Mei 2019. Kalau Anda habiskan waktu 15 tahun buat sebuah buku, saya kira, ingatan akan pekerjaan ini selalu membekas di kepala Anda.

Adakah pesan yang ingin disampaikan untuk mereka yang berminat menekuni media dan jurnalisme?

Bila Anda mempelajari sejarah demokrasi, Anda akan tahu bahwa ia terkait dengan terbentuknya opini masyarakat. Awal jurnalisme muncul sesudah mesin cetak ditemukan di Frankfurt. Suratkabar bermunculan di Eropa. Ia memberikan benih demokrasi. Singkatnya, makin bermutu jurnalisme di suatu masyarakat, makin bermutu pula masyarakat tersebut. Sebaliknya, makin buruk mutu jurnalisme dalam suatu masyarakat, makin buruk pula mutu masyarakat itu. Laku wartawan sesungguhnya laku seorang penjaga demokrasi. Wartawan punya tanggungjawab sosial ikut menjaga demokrasi, ikut memajukan masyarakat. Guru jurnalisme Bill Kovach menulis bahwa, jurnalisme dan demokrasi lahir bersama, celakanya, mereka juga mati bersama.

Siapa yang Anda harapkan menjadi peserta panel diskusi Anda di UWRF19?

Saya berharap beberapa pemikir Islam dari Pulau Jawa tampil di Ubud –Akhmad Sahal, Burhan Muhtadi, Lutfhi Assyaukanie, Nadirsyah Hosen, Sumanto Al Qurtuby, Ulil Abshar Abdalla, dan lain-lain. Pemikiran soal Islam di Indonesia, adalah salah satu perdebatan paling menarik di dunia. Mereka bergumul dengan persoalan intoleransi atas nama Islam di Indonesia. Khalayak festival di Ubud bisa mendapat banyak bila orang-orang ini tampil dan bicara.

Kalau dari luar Indonesia, saya berharap Mustafa Akyol dari Turki bisa muncul di Ubud, Bali. Dia menulis buku, Islam Without Extremes: A Muslim Case for Liberty serta menjadi kolumnis buat dua harian Turki mapun New York Times. Akyol seorang Muslim, membela Islam dalam pengertian yang luas, serta mengecam penggunaan Islam buat kekerasan dan kejahatan. Argumentasinya dari kekayaan pustaka dari dunia Islam. Menarik sekali bila bisa bicara dengan Mustafa di Bali.

Manakah karya Anda yang paling Anda rekomendasikan untuk diketahui oleh mereka yang sebelumnya belum terlalu mengenal karya-karya Anda?

Mungkin karya yang disukai kalangan wartawan adalah Jurnalisme Sastrawi: Antologi Liputan Mendalam dan Memikat. Antologi ini –disunting bersama Budi Setiyono-- menerangkan berbagai pertimbangan dan beberapa contoh bagi siapa pun yang ingin menulis panjang, setidaknya 15.000 kata, dengan pendekatan jurnalistik. Sayangnya, perusahaan yang menerbitkan buku ini, tak tertarik mencetak ulang tanpa kami membeli minimal 1.000 eksemplar. Kini, buku ini dibajak dan dijual lapak online.

Adakah proyek atau karya terbaru yang sedang Anda kerjakan saat ini? Bisakah diceritakan sedikit kepada kami?

Saya sedang membaca dan memilih esai-esai, yang saya nilai mengubah sejarah Hindia Belanda dan Indonesia, pada abad XX.

Artinya, esai-esai ini ditulis dengan ketajaman intelektual dan keberanian moral. Saya ingin menjadikan sebagai satu buku, tentu seizin mereka atau keturunan mereka. Saya baca dari Soekarno sampai Soetan Sjahrir, dari Pramoedya Ananta Toer sampai Hasan di Tiro. Saya baca Arief Budiman maupun Y.B. Mangunwijaya.

Soekarno muda, mungkin paling terkenal dengan esai, “Nasionalisme, Islamisme dan Marxisme” terbitan 1926. Sjahrir terkenal dengan pamflet, “Perdjoangan Kita” pada 1945.

Saya hampir selesai membaca seluruh esai Abdurrahman Wahid. Saya memilih opini “Tuhan Tidak Perlu Dibela” terbitan 1982 sebagai karya Wahid yang paling banyak dibaca orang. Goenawan Mohamad menulis kolom, setiap minggu sejak 1977, untuk Tempo dengan judul “Catatan Pinggir.” Saya kira kolom berjudul “The Death of Sukardal” --tukang becak protes dengan bunuh diri di Bandung pada 1986-- paling sering disitir orang.

Dari perempuan, tentu saya harus memilih dari surat-surat Kartini atau kolom Julia Suryakusuma di harian Jakarta Post. Julia menulis dalam bahasa Inggris. Banyak juga karya penting ditulis dalam bahasa Arab dan Belanda. Saya tak menguasai kedua bahasa tersebut. Saya suka sekali membaca karya-karya ini. Ia membuat saya berjalan mengarungi waktu dan membayangkan suasana ketika mereka memilih untuk berani dan bikin analisis tajam. Siapa tahu bila buku semacam ini berguna buat demokrasi di berbagai daerah di Indonesia.

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Kebiasaan Membaca di Sekolah

Amsterdam dengan memorial
Baruch Spinoza (2019).

Saya lahir pada 1965 di kota Jember. Ini sebuah kota menengah, dikenal dengan pertanian tembakau di Pulau Jawa. Perpustakaan sekolah kami tak punya banyak buku. Namun saya beruntung bisa beli buku cukup termasuk berbagai karya klasik dari Balai Pustaka. Saya juga suka baca komik: Si Buta Dari Gua Hantu serta Kho Ping Hoo. Saya belakangan mulai baca Mochtar Lubis, Soe Hok Gie, Soekarno, Yap Thiam Hien dan lainnya.

Pada 1981, ketika pindah sekolah ke SMA Katolik Sint Albertus Malang, saya beruntung ia punya perpustakaan bermutu. Mereka praktis punya semua coffee table book dari Time. Saya baca banyak buku soal Perang Vietnam yang berakhir enam tahun sebelumnya dengan kekalahan Amerika Serikat di Hanoi. Saya juga mulai membaca buku dalam bahasa Inggris: Albert Camus, Baruch Spinoza, Immanuel Kant, John Stuart Mill.

Saya kadang heran dengan kepala sekolah Emanuel Siswanto (1929-2002). Dia seorang pastor Katolik. Namun di perpustakaan banyak buku yang kritis terhadap agama dan spiritualisme. Romo Sis memang seorang guru yang berpikir terbuka (ketika meninggal, bunga di makamnya datang terus selama 40 hari). Dia sering beli buku –sekaligus beberapa eksemplar—dan dibagikan ke guru dan temannya. Dia minta mereka baca dan bikin ringkasan. Saya sering lihat dia bawa buku, yang sedang dibacanya, ketika menjaga ujian kelas. Dia sibuk membaca ketika murid-muridnya mengerjakan ujian.

Suatu hari, Romo Sis tiba-tiba bicara lewat loudspeaker sekolah bahwa dia akan mengumumkan nama murid setiap bulan yang meminjam buku paling banyak.

Dia bilang bulan sebelumnya, murid paling banyak pinjam buku, ”Andreas Harsono dari kelas 3A2.”

Saya terkejut. Saya dapat hadiah kecil. Ketika bertemu dengan Romo Sis –kantornya penuh dengan kaktus dan buku-- dia tanya sedang baca apa?

Kalau ingatan saya tak khianati saya, saya jawab, “Potret Seorang Penjair Muda Sebagai Si Malin Kundang” karya Goenawan Mohamad.

Tapi saya ingat saya beritahu Romo Sis bahwa juga suka musik. Saya kagum dengan lirik lagu “Roxanne” karya The Police. Saya kagum dengan band Queen dengan vokalis Freddie Mercury. Atau Peter Gabriel dari Genesis. Cyndi Lauper juga peka kemanusiaanya.

Dia tanya sesudah lulus mau sekolah dimana.

Saya malu menjawab, “Berklee College of Music di Boston.”

Sayang, cita-cita tersebut tak kesampaian. Papa keberatan saya jadi seniman. Saya sebenarnya sudah mulai menulis beberapa lagu lengkap dengan not balok dan lirik.

Chik Rini dari Aceh datang bertamu.

Saya kuliah teknik elektro di Universitas Kristen Satya Wacana, Salatiga. Papa ingin saya melanjutkan bisnis keluarga kami. Namun di kampus tersebut, saya tak banyak belajar teknik. Saya berkenalan dengan dosen-cum-pembangkang macam Arief Budiman dan George Junus Aditjondro. Keduanya doktor sosiologi masing-masing dari Universitas Harvard (Cambridge) dan Universitas Cornell (Ithaca).

Mereka membuat saya lebih mendalami dunia pemikiran dan aktivisme. Arief Budiman atau Soe Hok Djien adalah abang dari Soe Hok Gie, demonstran anti Presiden Soekarno yang meninggal keracunan gas di Gunung Semeru pada 1969. Arief memperkenalkan saya pada Marxisme. Bacaannya banyak sekali. Arief membuat saya baca The Second Sex karya Simone de Beauvoir soal feminisme.

George Aditjondro membuat saya baca berbagai teori pembangunan berkesinambungan, dari Frantz Fanon sampai Rachel Carson. George banyak terlibat kampanye lingkungan hidup di Indonesia, dari penggundulan hutan di Merauke sampai pencemaran Danau Toba. Saya bantu para sais dokar melawan penggusuran mereka di Salatiga. Pada 1990an, George sudah rajin kritik kebijakan transportasi di Indonesia dengan motorisasi. Ia akan bikin kemacetan lalu lintas, polusi udara serta memperpendek umum warga kota. George promosi kereta api, sepeda kaki dan trotoar.

Lulus kuliah saya jadi wartawan, pindah ke Jakarta, juga ikut jadi pembangkang, bikin macam-macam demonstrasi anti Presiden Soeharto, belakangan ikut mendirikan organisasi, antara lain, Persatuan Sais Dokar (Salatiga), Aliansi Jurnalis Independen (Jakarta), Institut Studi Arus Informasi (Jakarta), South East Asia Press Alliance (Bangkok), International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (Washington DC) dan Yayasan Pantau (Jakarta).

Saya memang tak beruntung bisa kuliah di Berklee namun, sesudah Soeharto mundur pada Mei 1998, saya dapat beasiswa dari Universitas Harvard, tetangga satu kota Berklee.

Ini kampus bermutu dengan reputasi global. Harvard memiliki 43 alumni dan profesor yang mendapatkan Penghargaan Nobel. Saya ikut beberapa kelas mereka. Bill Kovach, guru jurnalisme, menjadikan saya murid pribadi, setiap minggu diskusi soal buku yang ditugaskannya minggu lalu. Saya jadi kenal Cornel West, David Halberstam, Henry Louis Gates dan sebagainya. Kali ini saya bukan hanya baca buku mereka, tapi juga diajak makan siang atau diskusi dengan para penulis tersebut.

Di Harvard, saya belajar banyak soal jurnalisme, nasionalisme, studi militer serta hak asasi manusia. Namun saya juga ikut kuliah Thomas Forrest Kelly dan belajar musik klasik, dari Ludwig van Beethoven sampai Igor Stravinsky. Secara khusus, saya belajar genre “jurnalisme sastrawi” atau “narative reporting.” Kelak pengalaman di Harvard ini membantu saya menulis buku juga.

Kalau ditanya buku dan penulis yang paling berpengaruh dalam pemikiran saya, mungkin bisa dilihat dari seberapa sering saya mengutip mereka dalam karya-karya saya. Saya kira ada dua cendekiawan.

Pertama, Benedict Anderson (1936-2015) dari Universitas Cornell, ahli Asia Tenggara, yang menulis buku soal Indonesia, Thailand dan Filipina. Anderson menguasai belasan bahasa termasuk bahasa Indonesia, Tagalog dan Thai. Karyanya yang paling dikenal adalah Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. Anderson salah satu ahli Indonesia dengan keberanian moral dan analisis paling tajam.

Kedua, Bill Kovach dari Universitas Harvard, mantan redaktur The New York Times, yang menulis tiga buku soal jurnalisme bersama Tom Rosenstiel. Karya mereka yang paling dikenal adalah The Elements of Journalism:  What Newspeople Should Know and The Public Should Expect. Mereka menjelaskan dengan gamblang peranan jurnalisme. Yayasan Pantau membantu terjemahkan dua buku mereka ke Bahasa Indonesia. Saya belajar teori jurnalisme dari Kovach.

Saya punya sikap kritis terhadap karya fiksi. Ini mungkin dipengaruhi dengan disiplin saya dalam jurnalisme, yang ketat menjaga fakta. Kalau ditanya siapa novelis yang saya kagumi, saya jawab J.R.R. Tolkien (1892-1973) dari Universitas Oxford, yang menulis novel serial The Lord of the Rings. Ia dijadikan film Hollywood. Saya suka Tolkien karena dia tak mau campur aduk antara fakta dan fantasi. Ini kebiasaan buruk novelis kebanyakan. Tolkien menulis fantasi soal manusia, elf, hobbit, dwarf, ahli sihir, raksasa maupun orc guna bicara soal perjuangan kebaikan dan kejahatan.

Saya percaya seorang pembaca buku hidup mungkin ratusan kali, bahkan ribuan, mengatasi batas ruang dan waktu, mengelilingi dunia dan angkasa, belajar sejarah, belajar musik, membaca novel dan kaya akan khayalan. Orang yang tak suka membaca … sederhananya hanya hidup sekali. ***

Andreas Harsono menulis buku Race, Islam and Power: Ethnic and Religious Violence in Post-Suharto Indonesia. Kini dia bekerja untuk Human Rights Watch, sebuah organisasi hak asasi manusia, di New York.