FAITH IN INDONESIA
The shape of the world a generation from now will be influenced far more by how we communicate the values of our society to others than by military or diplomatic superiority. William Fulbright, 1964
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
EAST JAVA ECONOMY
EAST JAVA’S SAGA OF MISSED CHANCES
© Duncan Graham 2006
East Java was once the province with most promise.
It was the nation’s second most important industrial powerhouse, a forest of smokestacks, a roar of turbines. Raw materials from across the archipelago poured ceaselessly into the maws of the manufacturing giants; they emerged as glittering goodies and enticing edibles for the world.
The province had a skilled workforce and an abundance of natural resources. It enjoyed high productivity and consistently outpaced national growth figures.
This was despite a lower level of international investment compared to West Java and Jakarta.
Like all South-East Asian economies East Java was slugged hard by Krismon (the economic crisis of eight years ago). A temporary setback. The province might be on the ropes but it had the corporate muscle, tenacity, experience and enough capital to bounce back as king of the ring.
Or so said the corporate screen jockeys juggling data and finessing forecasts.
They were wrong according to a new report that claims East Java has fumbled the chances for a comeback and lost many opportunities to get ahead in the big league.
Equivocating bureaucrats, shortsighted planners, nail-biting investors and fearful businesspeople have all allegedly contributed to East Java falling behind other provinces.
The report was written by Bambang-Heru Santosa from the Central Bureau of Statistics in Jakarta, and Heath McMichael from the Australia-Indonesia Partnership for Reconstruction and Development.
“Surabaya’s failure to establish strong linkages with international capital and markets stymied industry diversification in East Java,” said the authors. “This retarded flows of foreign and domestic direct investment to East Java’s manufacturing sector.”
By comparison, Penang in Malaysia and Cebu in the Philippines – strategically located cities similar to Surabaya - have prospered since Krismon. That’s because they’ve attracted international capital and been smart enough to create new export industries, particularly in electronics.
East Java failed to diversify its manufacturing base that relies mainly on food, drinks and tobacco products – primarily for domestic consumption. About 70 per cent of the industrial labor force works in these areas.
These products are the most vulnerable to competition from other Asian countries where production costs are lower.
East Java has a population of 35 million, which is a huge local market by any standards outside China. It is also a major primary producer; 35 per cent of the food on the nation’s table comes from this one province.
While Surabaya slumbered other industrial cities used Krismon to update equipment, introduce modern technology, build new infrastructure and seek fresh markets.
In East Java infrastructure suffered through inattention to upgrading and modernisation. Improvements focussed on the SUGRESID (Surabaya, Gresik and Sidoarjo) region. This has left other parts of the province suffering from clogged highways and rutted roads.
LOSERS AND WINNERS
Industries that have lost heavily include leather processing (Sidoarjo) and footwear (Mojokerto), both undercut by China and Vietnam where labor costs are lower.
PT Panen Raya, a leather shoemaker closed six of its seven factories in the Surabaya region in 2002, including its largest manufacturing unit in Sidoarjo, and by early 2003 operated only one factory.
Managers also blamed new labour laws that require substantial payouts for dismissed workers for the closures.
“Furniture manufacturing has suffered a similar decline,” said the authors. “Bojonegoro and Pasuruan are the main centres for teak furniture production.
“In recent years the industry in Pasuruan has suffered because of rising raw material prices – sixty per cent more than the Perhutani forestry company basic price.
“Rising timber prices have both reduced the number of craftsmen fashioning furniture in Pasuruan, in comparison with the number of furniture traders, and led to a decline in the quality of finished furniture.”
However it’s not all gloom. The winners include food processors like PT Pangan Lestari, part of Sekar Group. Up to 40 per cent of the company’s principal lines are exported, mainly to Korea, Japan, Europe and New Zealand.
PT Eratex Djaja manufactures clothing including high quality jeans that are finding a ready market despite intense competition. In the past two years the workforce has increased from 3,500 to 5,000 to meet demand.
There have also been success stories in electronics manufacturing, particularly for the multi-faceted Maspion Group which employs 30,000.
But this is a fickle industry forever ready to up-roots and flee to any country offering better tax breaks, fewer bureaucratic hassles and cheaper workers.
PROBLEM POINTS
Focus group discussions held by the World Bank with the private sector in East Java highlighted infrastructure as “a significant business constraint.”
As every Surabaya commuter knows, this was just stating the bone-jarring, temper-testing, bleeding obvious.
The frequently crowded toll road south was originally planned to reach Malang 85 kilometres from Surabaya. But it peters out after 25 km. into a congested, badly-formed highway shared with local markets, schools and factories.
The toll road extension to Juanda international airport comes to a sudden halt because land purchase difficulties remain unresolved. The Suramadu bridge linking the capital to Madura island (see The Jakarta Post 3 February 2006) is years behind schedule.
The Tanjung Perak seaport suffers from heavy siltration – though this doesn’t affect the container terminal.
The rail system is considered so inefficient that very few containers take to the tracks. Around 2,000 a day are hauled by slow moving trucks. The fleet is old and poorly maintained – congesting the roads and polluting the already filthy air.
Regular power black-outs have forced many factories to install their own generators, adding to start-up costs.
Banks in East Java haven’t helped. Most of their business has been in retail banking rather than providing credit for small to medium businesses.
Up to 80 per cent of the regional government’s budget is used to maintain routine activities – including paying public servants - leaving only 20 per cent for new projects.
The right ratios, says the business lobby, are 40 and 60 per cent.
LEVIES LEGAL AND OTHERWISE
The report says that the “perceived hidden cost of investing” may be a factor that’s stymied growth.
One survey found that illegal levies were a serious problem. Reported the authors: “In Sidoarjo up to 36 per cent of manufacturing enterprises were aware of some form of levy imposed by local police while 27 per cent of businesses claimed to have been targeted by ‘social organisations’ soliciting donations.”
Decentralisation has given the regions more power. This has also become a synonym for fresh opportunities to relieve investors of their cash through regulations and local levies known as Pendapatan Asli Daerah. (PAD).
“Many regulations duplicate those issued by Kabupaten and Kotamadya (sub region and district) governments,” said the authors.
“As a result, many economic activities are doubly burdened with identical or similar levies.
“Food manufacturer Nestle paid up to Rp 80 million (US $9,000) to fulfil a local government requirement to renew a ‘disturbance permit’.
“There’s a danger that PAD levies will become an impost on the most profitable industries, such as cigarette manufacturers. PT Gudang Garam (Indonesia’s highest corporate taxpayer) contributes Rp 5 billion (US $500 million) to Kabupaten Kediri’s coffers each year in local taxes.”
The East Java economy is heavily dependant on kretek cigarette manufacturing mainly for domestic consumption. Elsewhere this is a dying industry – literally and metaphorically - as public health advocates push governments to crack down on tobacco sales.
However Indonesia is one of the few nations not to sign the World Health Organisation’s Convention on Tobacco Control. The government seems set to leave the industry in peace and profit, so the urge to diversify and build export markets is absent.
“The story of manufacturing industry in East Java is basically one of failure to take advantage of considerable resource endowments and diversify into international markets,” say Santosa and McMichael.
“Since the Asian financial crisis, East Java’s manufacturing sector has not performed as well as other similarly well-endowed regions in Southeast Asia and has fallen behind some other provinces of Indonesia in comparative terms.
“The province’s considerable physical infrastructure endowments; the educational level of attainment of its population; and its public sector tradition of sound economic and financial management stand out as factors that should have propelled East Java manufacturing to a position of regional if not international significance.”
GIVE YOUTH A CHANCE
US-educated businessman Gatot Irianto is a serious enthusiast for change.
“There’s maybe two million unemployed in East Java and the number is growing,” he said. (The workforce is about 24 million)
“We have to develop the entrepreneurial capacity of our people. This is our major concern.”
East Java Inc. is a scheme to change the mindset of people who wait for someone to provide them with a job, and are then content to hold that position till pension day.
The scheme, organised by the East Java Chamber of Commerce and Industry (KADIN), has already put 1,500 young people though its courses and workshops.
“Believing we’re not good enough is part of the heritage from the Dutch era,” said Gatot, a furniture exporter and vice chair of KADIN’s business network development unit. “The colonialists suppressed our creativity and our education system is feudal
“This is social engineering on a big scale. We’re doing this because we’re concerned about the future that is going to get tougher and tougher.
“The national government is trying to lure overseas investors, but what about encouraging local investors?
“The government keeps saying we must employ more and more people, but the future is towards technology.
“The government is still inside its coconut shell. It must decide where it’s going – and if it wants to develop opportunities it should let the private sector take over.”
SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
Despite the busy cranes nodding across Surabaya erecting more and more malls for hard-pressed consumers to go window-shopping, there’s no hiding the victims of Krismon.
Their rain-stained, rusting skeletons stand tall on the skyline, corroding monuments to what might have been.
Contractor Erlangga Satriagung has a terse one-line response to the question: How did you survive when so many fell?
“I’m a businessman,” the KADIN chairman replied gruffly.
Certainly Krismon showed that Darwin’s theory of evolution applies equally in the concrete jungle as it does in the forests and oceans.
“We don’t accept all the criticisms of the (Santosa McMichael) report and we are addressing many of the issues, like the bureaucratic difficulties with regional administrations,” he said.
“There is a problem with gas supply for industry and this has to be fixed. There are big plans for a petro-chemical plant and fertiliser industries – but there’s clearly not enough investment.
We have good relations with the government but it must become pro-business. That attitude also has to go down to the district administrations.
“This is the downside of decentralisation. Local governments think they can do anything, but most just don’t understand business.”
(First published in The Jakarta Post 27 February 2006)
© Duncan Graham 2006
East Java was once the province with most promise.
It was the nation’s second most important industrial powerhouse, a forest of smokestacks, a roar of turbines. Raw materials from across the archipelago poured ceaselessly into the maws of the manufacturing giants; they emerged as glittering goodies and enticing edibles for the world.
The province had a skilled workforce and an abundance of natural resources. It enjoyed high productivity and consistently outpaced national growth figures.
This was despite a lower level of international investment compared to West Java and Jakarta.
Like all South-East Asian economies East Java was slugged hard by Krismon (the economic crisis of eight years ago). A temporary setback. The province might be on the ropes but it had the corporate muscle, tenacity, experience and enough capital to bounce back as king of the ring.
Or so said the corporate screen jockeys juggling data and finessing forecasts.
They were wrong according to a new report that claims East Java has fumbled the chances for a comeback and lost many opportunities to get ahead in the big league.
Equivocating bureaucrats, shortsighted planners, nail-biting investors and fearful businesspeople have all allegedly contributed to East Java falling behind other provinces.
The report was written by Bambang-Heru Santosa from the Central Bureau of Statistics in Jakarta, and Heath McMichael from the Australia-Indonesia Partnership for Reconstruction and Development.
“Surabaya’s failure to establish strong linkages with international capital and markets stymied industry diversification in East Java,” said the authors. “This retarded flows of foreign and domestic direct investment to East Java’s manufacturing sector.”
By comparison, Penang in Malaysia and Cebu in the Philippines – strategically located cities similar to Surabaya - have prospered since Krismon. That’s because they’ve attracted international capital and been smart enough to create new export industries, particularly in electronics.
East Java failed to diversify its manufacturing base that relies mainly on food, drinks and tobacco products – primarily for domestic consumption. About 70 per cent of the industrial labor force works in these areas.
These products are the most vulnerable to competition from other Asian countries where production costs are lower.
East Java has a population of 35 million, which is a huge local market by any standards outside China. It is also a major primary producer; 35 per cent of the food on the nation’s table comes from this one province.
While Surabaya slumbered other industrial cities used Krismon to update equipment, introduce modern technology, build new infrastructure and seek fresh markets.
In East Java infrastructure suffered through inattention to upgrading and modernisation. Improvements focussed on the SUGRESID (Surabaya, Gresik and Sidoarjo) region. This has left other parts of the province suffering from clogged highways and rutted roads.
LOSERS AND WINNERS
Industries that have lost heavily include leather processing (Sidoarjo) and footwear (Mojokerto), both undercut by China and Vietnam where labor costs are lower.
PT Panen Raya, a leather shoemaker closed six of its seven factories in the Surabaya region in 2002, including its largest manufacturing unit in Sidoarjo, and by early 2003 operated only one factory.
Managers also blamed new labour laws that require substantial payouts for dismissed workers for the closures.
“Furniture manufacturing has suffered a similar decline,” said the authors. “Bojonegoro and Pasuruan are the main centres for teak furniture production.
“In recent years the industry in Pasuruan has suffered because of rising raw material prices – sixty per cent more than the Perhutani forestry company basic price.
“Rising timber prices have both reduced the number of craftsmen fashioning furniture in Pasuruan, in comparison with the number of furniture traders, and led to a decline in the quality of finished furniture.”
However it’s not all gloom. The winners include food processors like PT Pangan Lestari, part of Sekar Group. Up to 40 per cent of the company’s principal lines are exported, mainly to Korea, Japan, Europe and New Zealand.
PT Eratex Djaja manufactures clothing including high quality jeans that are finding a ready market despite intense competition. In the past two years the workforce has increased from 3,500 to 5,000 to meet demand.
There have also been success stories in electronics manufacturing, particularly for the multi-faceted Maspion Group which employs 30,000.
But this is a fickle industry forever ready to up-roots and flee to any country offering better tax breaks, fewer bureaucratic hassles and cheaper workers.
PROBLEM POINTS
Focus group discussions held by the World Bank with the private sector in East Java highlighted infrastructure as “a significant business constraint.”
As every Surabaya commuter knows, this was just stating the bone-jarring, temper-testing, bleeding obvious.
The frequently crowded toll road south was originally planned to reach Malang 85 kilometres from Surabaya. But it peters out after 25 km. into a congested, badly-formed highway shared with local markets, schools and factories.
The toll road extension to Juanda international airport comes to a sudden halt because land purchase difficulties remain unresolved. The Suramadu bridge linking the capital to Madura island (see The Jakarta Post 3 February 2006) is years behind schedule.
The Tanjung Perak seaport suffers from heavy siltration – though this doesn’t affect the container terminal.
The rail system is considered so inefficient that very few containers take to the tracks. Around 2,000 a day are hauled by slow moving trucks. The fleet is old and poorly maintained – congesting the roads and polluting the already filthy air.
Regular power black-outs have forced many factories to install their own generators, adding to start-up costs.
Banks in East Java haven’t helped. Most of their business has been in retail banking rather than providing credit for small to medium businesses.
Up to 80 per cent of the regional government’s budget is used to maintain routine activities – including paying public servants - leaving only 20 per cent for new projects.
The right ratios, says the business lobby, are 40 and 60 per cent.
LEVIES LEGAL AND OTHERWISE
The report says that the “perceived hidden cost of investing” may be a factor that’s stymied growth.
One survey found that illegal levies were a serious problem. Reported the authors: “In Sidoarjo up to 36 per cent of manufacturing enterprises were aware of some form of levy imposed by local police while 27 per cent of businesses claimed to have been targeted by ‘social organisations’ soliciting donations.”
Decentralisation has given the regions more power. This has also become a synonym for fresh opportunities to relieve investors of their cash through regulations and local levies known as Pendapatan Asli Daerah. (PAD).
“Many regulations duplicate those issued by Kabupaten and Kotamadya (sub region and district) governments,” said the authors.
“As a result, many economic activities are doubly burdened with identical or similar levies.
“Food manufacturer Nestle paid up to Rp 80 million (US $9,000) to fulfil a local government requirement to renew a ‘disturbance permit’.
“There’s a danger that PAD levies will become an impost on the most profitable industries, such as cigarette manufacturers. PT Gudang Garam (Indonesia’s highest corporate taxpayer) contributes Rp 5 billion (US $500 million) to Kabupaten Kediri’s coffers each year in local taxes.”
The East Java economy is heavily dependant on kretek cigarette manufacturing mainly for domestic consumption. Elsewhere this is a dying industry – literally and metaphorically - as public health advocates push governments to crack down on tobacco sales.
However Indonesia is one of the few nations not to sign the World Health Organisation’s Convention on Tobacco Control. The government seems set to leave the industry in peace and profit, so the urge to diversify and build export markets is absent.
“The story of manufacturing industry in East Java is basically one of failure to take advantage of considerable resource endowments and diversify into international markets,” say Santosa and McMichael.
“Since the Asian financial crisis, East Java’s manufacturing sector has not performed as well as other similarly well-endowed regions in Southeast Asia and has fallen behind some other provinces of Indonesia in comparative terms.
“The province’s considerable physical infrastructure endowments; the educational level of attainment of its population; and its public sector tradition of sound economic and financial management stand out as factors that should have propelled East Java manufacturing to a position of regional if not international significance.”
GIVE YOUTH A CHANCE
US-educated businessman Gatot Irianto is a serious enthusiast for change.
“There’s maybe two million unemployed in East Java and the number is growing,” he said. (The workforce is about 24 million)
“We have to develop the entrepreneurial capacity of our people. This is our major concern.”
East Java Inc. is a scheme to change the mindset of people who wait for someone to provide them with a job, and are then content to hold that position till pension day.
The scheme, organised by the East Java Chamber of Commerce and Industry (KADIN), has already put 1,500 young people though its courses and workshops.
“Believing we’re not good enough is part of the heritage from the Dutch era,” said Gatot, a furniture exporter and vice chair of KADIN’s business network development unit. “The colonialists suppressed our creativity and our education system is feudal
“This is social engineering on a big scale. We’re doing this because we’re concerned about the future that is going to get tougher and tougher.
“The national government is trying to lure overseas investors, but what about encouraging local investors?
“The government keeps saying we must employ more and more people, but the future is towards technology.
“The government is still inside its coconut shell. It must decide where it’s going – and if it wants to develop opportunities it should let the private sector take over.”
SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
Despite the busy cranes nodding across Surabaya erecting more and more malls for hard-pressed consumers to go window-shopping, there’s no hiding the victims of Krismon.
Their rain-stained, rusting skeletons stand tall on the skyline, corroding monuments to what might have been.
Contractor Erlangga Satriagung has a terse one-line response to the question: How did you survive when so many fell?
“I’m a businessman,” the KADIN chairman replied gruffly.
Certainly Krismon showed that Darwin’s theory of evolution applies equally in the concrete jungle as it does in the forests and oceans.
“We don’t accept all the criticisms of the (Santosa McMichael) report and we are addressing many of the issues, like the bureaucratic difficulties with regional administrations,” he said.
“There is a problem with gas supply for industry and this has to be fixed. There are big plans for a petro-chemical plant and fertiliser industries – but there’s clearly not enough investment.
We have good relations with the government but it must become pro-business. That attitude also has to go down to the district administrations.
“This is the downside of decentralisation. Local governments think they can do anything, but most just don’t understand business.”
(First published in The Jakarta Post 27 February 2006)
Sunday, February 26, 2006
PHILANTHROPY IN SURABAYA
KEEPING THE GANDHIAN IDEAL ALIVE:
THE GRACIOUS GIVER OF SURABAYA © Duncan Graham 2006
Next month (March) one of Surabaya’s most outstanding philanthropists – and certainly the most consistent - turns 80.
Naraindas Tikamdas Sakhrani (better known as Narain) gives alms to the poor of the East Java capital every Thursday around 8 am. The bill for the rice, biscuits, noodles, soaps and coins his staff hand out to around 150 people costs him Rp 10 million (US $1,000) a month.
He’s been doing this non-stop for more than 27 years.
Occasionally a few volunteers inspired by his example come along to help with the distribution. Most are from churches with a welfare ministry and sometimes bring food or detergent. But few last more than a week or two.
So the job falls back on Narain’s wallet and his ten staff who mix and decant the pink syrup and condensed milk drink prepared for the children, and bag the rice in 500-gram units.
Distributing aid is a laborious and debilitating experience for both donor and recipient. Which is probably why so many helpers don’t stay the distance.
It’s not like rehabilitation assistance following a natural disaster, a temporary measure to help the victims get back to normality. With endemic poverty there’s no end in sight. The giver feels like a colonialist striding among the squatting beggars with a sack of food, and the hungry are not always thankful.
While the old women are usually polite and grateful there’s a brooding resentment amongst some of the young men that they’ve been forced to accept charity. And the kids who snatch and demand don’t endear themselves to do-gooders who expect the little toughs to have middle-class manners.
It’s not that the system lacks dignity; the poor don’t have to queue, just sit patiently in an alleyway alongside a mosque, picking lice and rolling smokes from discarded butts while waiting to be served. Nonetheless there’s little nobility in the exercise.
Born in India, Narain came to Indonesia in 1947 as a 22-year old after graduating from the University of Bombay. He settled in Surabaya where an uncle was trading in textiles.
The young man started the Indian Publications Company in an old Dutch house on Jalan Pahlawan (Street of Heroes), close to the Governor’s office. Most of his business was in educational texts, trade handbooks and academic works.
Narain prospered. He became the Indian consul and head of the Sindhi Merchants’ Association. He took out Indonesian citizenship. His business expanded into ceramics, handicrafts and religious knick-knacks, selling locally and exporting.
He soon made the A list of people who had to be invited to every notable occasion. In the society pages he stood tall and handsome, witty and urbane, alongside lesser men in peaked caps. He used the opportunities to effect.
Anyone he could buttonhole at a reception was likely to be given one of Narain’s Yellow Pages, a photocopied brochure outlining his philosophies, religious outlook and values, plus a dose of aphorisms.
Some VIPs must have thought this an impudence, but could hardly complain to a gracious and distinguished gentleman in a prestigious setting. Others with more open minds have responded, become donors and have been added to the businessman’s mailing list.
It would be wrong to assume Narain is an obsessive pamphleteer. He’s not like the herbal remedy salesmen encountered in shopping malls, thrusting their unwanted dodgers onto passers-by.
His approach is always low key, discreet and polite – and certainly sincere. He can be funny and self-effacing, but he’s not into small talk.
Apart from all the heavyweight business people (“big shots”), Narain has met many of the great figures of history – Indian independence leader Mahatma Gandhi, Sukarno, Suharto, Megawati and just about every minister and administrative head you could name. Most have been given the Narain treatment.
Some, like Malaysian Mavis Ching have been inspired to develop their own soup kitchens. She now runs an international humanitarian organisation in Malacca called Touch A Life, and Project Daily Meal in Yogyakarta.
Then five years ago tragedy struck. Narain was diagnosed with diabetes and high blood cholesterol. He became seriously infected. Cancer was suspected and he was whisked into a local hospital in a coma. He woke in the Mouth Elizabeth Hospital in Singapore minus his left leg.
Lesser men faced with life in a wheelchair at 75 would have given up. But Narain, who has never married and has no close living relatives, imposed a strict diet on himself. He set about regaining mobility – not easy in the cluttered old two storey house with a narrow staircase where he started business – and redoubled his private activities.
Then a double blow.
By now the book trade had opened up with the demise of the Suharto government and its policies of controlling information. Hundreds of titles were being published in Indonesia and imported from everywhere. Bookshops were no longer rare and closeted places.
Narain’s illness and the change in government crippled the business. He’s closed up shop and been left with 15,000 outdated books stacked on the shelves, along with plaster saints and other icons.
Despite this the generosity hasn’t faltered. At government and corporate functions he still draws respect; metaphorically he continues to stand tall – even though confined to a wheelchair
Surrounded by hundreds of portraits of Hindu deities and Balinese beauties, and texts from all the great holy books, Narain spoke to The Sunday Post in his lofty cream and green office in Surabaya. In the background satellite TV beamed from India shut out much of the street noise below:
Your illness must have been a great shock.
When I came to I didn’t know where I was or what had happened. I talked to a nurse and she put my hand in the place where my leg should have been. I called out in horror and a doctor came in. He said: “You came to Singapore almost dead and there was no guarantee the operation would save your life. Now you’re angry and shouting – so you’ll live.”
Why do you think God has extended your life?
God thought: “Who can do all the things this man is doing? There’s nobody to replace him yet, so he needs a few more years.” God plays chess with the world and moves the pieces here and there.
(This is a bit tongue-in-cheek. Narain’s handouts say: “Distinguished men of today are extinguished men of tomorrow.”)
If you trust in God 100 per cent you will find there is something meaningful in all God’s work. For example, after the floods have come improvements.
My memory is still good and my health has returned. I wake at 3 am and work about 16 hours a day. I also exercise.
Now you have no cash flow, where does the money come from to feed the poor?
Every Wednesday night I wonder that too. But by Thursday morning we have enough. You should stay in my house one night and see how the money showers down! God gives it to me in my left hand, so I must give it to the people with my right hand.
If I come to your house and you invite me for a meal I don’t take your food: I share your food with you.
Why do this? Most people would think it’s the government’s job to help the needy. Why don’t you get the social welfare officials involved, - provide health care and medical checks for example, press the kids to go to school?
I’ve done that, and for a while we had a government clinic. Then their budget ran out and they stopped. Indonesia is so corrupt – it’s number one. And number two is India.
This is the problem when the government helps the poor. I’m told that few are receiving the Rp 100,000 (US$ 10) a month (to compensate for the fuel price hike last October.)
You didn’t talk to the people getting your food today.
I couldn’t find four men to carry me downstairs. I thought of installing a lift but it would be too expensive. I’ve tried a prosthetic leg but it put me off balance.
Why run a charity by yourself? No boards of directors, no committees …
This started more than 30 years ago when my father Tikamdas began giving the poor who called at our door one rupiah a day. The numbers soon grew and didn’t stop. I continued it when my father died.
This is not my project. It belongs to God. It is our duty to help the poor and needy who surround us.
I’ve been told that many people sell the food you give them, that the beggars are organised by preman (street thugs) and are able-bodied, but don’t want to work.
Look at them! How many could find work? They’re dressed in rags, they live under bridges. Who will employ them? Their consciences have been killed by poverty.
I know some sell what we give. That’s their right.
As Jesus said – the poor are always with us. These people are born beggars of beggar parents. It’s their karma. You can change it only through prayer and good deeds.
My social activities and charitable work are done with pure feelings as my duty to Great Indonesia, as from son to mother. I want to continue to do this for as long as I live.
Indonesia is the place where my heart is at rest. Fulfilment came to me in Indonesia. It came because I fell in love with the people and country and consider it my second Motherland.
I am just a humble servant of mankind and brother of the poor and needy.
You keep handing out your newsletters and words of wisdom. Do you really think anyone pays attention?
Oh yes. Everyone except Indians. They think they know everything!
Give me an example of the sayings you want others to consider.
Character is life, character is power.
Character is true holiness.
Without transforming character
Packing the brain with information
Can only result in damaging it.
You met Gandhi. What can you remember?
I met him twice, the first when I was 12, later when I was about 20. (Gandhi, a pacifist, was assassinated in 1948). I call him a man of light. Gandhi led his countrymen through darkness to light.
I saw reflected in his face and in his words the light of service to the poor, the light of friendship with the lowly and the lost, with the broken ones of India and humanity.
Who loved India more than Gandhi? How many among India’s great ones today would say with Gandhi: “All religions are true! And all religions are almost as dear to me as my own Hinduism?”
In your house you have a chapel or prayer room with an altar carrying statues and symbols of the world’s major religions.
I’m Hindu, but all religions are universal. I believe in God. This is my daily prayer:
God keep my big mouth shut till I know what I’m saying.
God be in my prayers and in my worship.
God be in my heart to recite your Holy Name and spread it around my surroundings
God help me to offer my thoughtfulness, kindness and compassion to all living things.
God create peace on Earth for all.
God, shine my path in departing from this world.
(First published in The Sunday Post 26 February 2006)
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THE GRACIOUS GIVER OF SURABAYA © Duncan Graham 2006
Next month (March) one of Surabaya’s most outstanding philanthropists – and certainly the most consistent - turns 80.
Naraindas Tikamdas Sakhrani (better known as Narain) gives alms to the poor of the East Java capital every Thursday around 8 am. The bill for the rice, biscuits, noodles, soaps and coins his staff hand out to around 150 people costs him Rp 10 million (US $1,000) a month.
He’s been doing this non-stop for more than 27 years.
Occasionally a few volunteers inspired by his example come along to help with the distribution. Most are from churches with a welfare ministry and sometimes bring food or detergent. But few last more than a week or two.
So the job falls back on Narain’s wallet and his ten staff who mix and decant the pink syrup and condensed milk drink prepared for the children, and bag the rice in 500-gram units.
Distributing aid is a laborious and debilitating experience for both donor and recipient. Which is probably why so many helpers don’t stay the distance.
It’s not like rehabilitation assistance following a natural disaster, a temporary measure to help the victims get back to normality. With endemic poverty there’s no end in sight. The giver feels like a colonialist striding among the squatting beggars with a sack of food, and the hungry are not always thankful.
While the old women are usually polite and grateful there’s a brooding resentment amongst some of the young men that they’ve been forced to accept charity. And the kids who snatch and demand don’t endear themselves to do-gooders who expect the little toughs to have middle-class manners.
It’s not that the system lacks dignity; the poor don’t have to queue, just sit patiently in an alleyway alongside a mosque, picking lice and rolling smokes from discarded butts while waiting to be served. Nonetheless there’s little nobility in the exercise.
Born in India, Narain came to Indonesia in 1947 as a 22-year old after graduating from the University of Bombay. He settled in Surabaya where an uncle was trading in textiles.
The young man started the Indian Publications Company in an old Dutch house on Jalan Pahlawan (Street of Heroes), close to the Governor’s office. Most of his business was in educational texts, trade handbooks and academic works.
Narain prospered. He became the Indian consul and head of the Sindhi Merchants’ Association. He took out Indonesian citizenship. His business expanded into ceramics, handicrafts and religious knick-knacks, selling locally and exporting.
He soon made the A list of people who had to be invited to every notable occasion. In the society pages he stood tall and handsome, witty and urbane, alongside lesser men in peaked caps. He used the opportunities to effect.
Anyone he could buttonhole at a reception was likely to be given one of Narain’s Yellow Pages, a photocopied brochure outlining his philosophies, religious outlook and values, plus a dose of aphorisms.
Some VIPs must have thought this an impudence, but could hardly complain to a gracious and distinguished gentleman in a prestigious setting. Others with more open minds have responded, become donors and have been added to the businessman’s mailing list.
It would be wrong to assume Narain is an obsessive pamphleteer. He’s not like the herbal remedy salesmen encountered in shopping malls, thrusting their unwanted dodgers onto passers-by.
His approach is always low key, discreet and polite – and certainly sincere. He can be funny and self-effacing, but he’s not into small talk.
Apart from all the heavyweight business people (“big shots”), Narain has met many of the great figures of history – Indian independence leader Mahatma Gandhi, Sukarno, Suharto, Megawati and just about every minister and administrative head you could name. Most have been given the Narain treatment.
Some, like Malaysian Mavis Ching have been inspired to develop their own soup kitchens. She now runs an international humanitarian organisation in Malacca called Touch A Life, and Project Daily Meal in Yogyakarta.
Then five years ago tragedy struck. Narain was diagnosed with diabetes and high blood cholesterol. He became seriously infected. Cancer was suspected and he was whisked into a local hospital in a coma. He woke in the Mouth Elizabeth Hospital in Singapore minus his left leg.
Lesser men faced with life in a wheelchair at 75 would have given up. But Narain, who has never married and has no close living relatives, imposed a strict diet on himself. He set about regaining mobility – not easy in the cluttered old two storey house with a narrow staircase where he started business – and redoubled his private activities.
Then a double blow.
By now the book trade had opened up with the demise of the Suharto government and its policies of controlling information. Hundreds of titles were being published in Indonesia and imported from everywhere. Bookshops were no longer rare and closeted places.
Narain’s illness and the change in government crippled the business. He’s closed up shop and been left with 15,000 outdated books stacked on the shelves, along with plaster saints and other icons.
Despite this the generosity hasn’t faltered. At government and corporate functions he still draws respect; metaphorically he continues to stand tall – even though confined to a wheelchair
Surrounded by hundreds of portraits of Hindu deities and Balinese beauties, and texts from all the great holy books, Narain spoke to The Sunday Post in his lofty cream and green office in Surabaya. In the background satellite TV beamed from India shut out much of the street noise below:
Your illness must have been a great shock.
When I came to I didn’t know where I was or what had happened. I talked to a nurse and she put my hand in the place where my leg should have been. I called out in horror and a doctor came in. He said: “You came to Singapore almost dead and there was no guarantee the operation would save your life. Now you’re angry and shouting – so you’ll live.”
Why do you think God has extended your life?
God thought: “Who can do all the things this man is doing? There’s nobody to replace him yet, so he needs a few more years.” God plays chess with the world and moves the pieces here and there.
(This is a bit tongue-in-cheek. Narain’s handouts say: “Distinguished men of today are extinguished men of tomorrow.”)
If you trust in God 100 per cent you will find there is something meaningful in all God’s work. For example, after the floods have come improvements.
My memory is still good and my health has returned. I wake at 3 am and work about 16 hours a day. I also exercise.
Now you have no cash flow, where does the money come from to feed the poor?
Every Wednesday night I wonder that too. But by Thursday morning we have enough. You should stay in my house one night and see how the money showers down! God gives it to me in my left hand, so I must give it to the people with my right hand.
If I come to your house and you invite me for a meal I don’t take your food: I share your food with you.
Why do this? Most people would think it’s the government’s job to help the needy. Why don’t you get the social welfare officials involved, - provide health care and medical checks for example, press the kids to go to school?
I’ve done that, and for a while we had a government clinic. Then their budget ran out and they stopped. Indonesia is so corrupt – it’s number one. And number two is India.
This is the problem when the government helps the poor. I’m told that few are receiving the Rp 100,000 (US$ 10) a month (to compensate for the fuel price hike last October.)
You didn’t talk to the people getting your food today.
I couldn’t find four men to carry me downstairs. I thought of installing a lift but it would be too expensive. I’ve tried a prosthetic leg but it put me off balance.
Why run a charity by yourself? No boards of directors, no committees …
This started more than 30 years ago when my father Tikamdas began giving the poor who called at our door one rupiah a day. The numbers soon grew and didn’t stop. I continued it when my father died.
This is not my project. It belongs to God. It is our duty to help the poor and needy who surround us.
I’ve been told that many people sell the food you give them, that the beggars are organised by preman (street thugs) and are able-bodied, but don’t want to work.
Look at them! How many could find work? They’re dressed in rags, they live under bridges. Who will employ them? Their consciences have been killed by poverty.
I know some sell what we give. That’s their right.
As Jesus said – the poor are always with us. These people are born beggars of beggar parents. It’s their karma. You can change it only through prayer and good deeds.
My social activities and charitable work are done with pure feelings as my duty to Great Indonesia, as from son to mother. I want to continue to do this for as long as I live.
Indonesia is the place where my heart is at rest. Fulfilment came to me in Indonesia. It came because I fell in love with the people and country and consider it my second Motherland.
I am just a humble servant of mankind and brother of the poor and needy.
You keep handing out your newsletters and words of wisdom. Do you really think anyone pays attention?
Oh yes. Everyone except Indians. They think they know everything!
Give me an example of the sayings you want others to consider.
Character is life, character is power.
Character is true holiness.
Without transforming character
Packing the brain with information
Can only result in damaging it.
You met Gandhi. What can you remember?
I met him twice, the first when I was 12, later when I was about 20. (Gandhi, a pacifist, was assassinated in 1948). I call him a man of light. Gandhi led his countrymen through darkness to light.
I saw reflected in his face and in his words the light of service to the poor, the light of friendship with the lowly and the lost, with the broken ones of India and humanity.
Who loved India more than Gandhi? How many among India’s great ones today would say with Gandhi: “All religions are true! And all religions are almost as dear to me as my own Hinduism?”
In your house you have a chapel or prayer room with an altar carrying statues and symbols of the world’s major religions.
I’m Hindu, but all religions are universal. I believe in God. This is my daily prayer:
God keep my big mouth shut till I know what I’m saying.
God be in my prayers and in my worship.
God be in my heart to recite your Holy Name and spread it around my surroundings
God help me to offer my thoughtfulness, kindness and compassion to all living things.
God create peace on Earth for all.
God, shine my path in departing from this world.
(First published in The Sunday Post 26 February 2006)
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HARGA BULE
HOW MUCH IS IN THE BULE’S KITTY? © Duncan Graham 2006
It was only Rp 10,000, just over one lousy US dollar. Hardly worth getting catatonic. Just let it pass.
Not so easy. Sure, the sum was small. But it’s the principle that rankles. What principle? The one that says: White skin = big bucks.
Most bule who leave their comfort zone encounter the attitude daily in public transport, shops and restaurants. If you can spit back a bit of invective in street Javanese the issue usually dies with a shrug and a grin. Anyway, who can blame the poor and hard pressed for trying it on?
But I draw the line with professional services offered by the well-heeled. Or maybe this was the last straw, one passenger too many in the bemo after a series of non-stop demands for hand-outs.
To keep the screeching toms at bay the house ratter needed a contraceptive jab. Indonesian colleagues were quoted Rp 20,000 by the vet, but the identical pussy in the hands of the walking ATM would cost 50 per cent more. Same cat, same owner, different carrier.
Do not assume this is some pampered Persian purr machine whose owner imports Manchurian dove-breasts for kitty’s cuisine. This moggy is a rapacious kampung scavenger whose scarred ancestors know every drain. She’s called Ora, the Nusa Tenggara term for Komodo dragons. The resemblance goes beyond the name.
Long time foreign residents can pick rip-offs quickly enough. If there’s a nanosecond’s pause between the question: “How much?” and the reply, or a snap glance between worker and boss, then you’re getting the harga bule (Westerner’s price).
Although common in Bali and other tourist traps, different rates aren’t as frequent as some claim. In the suburbs of Surabaya and the East Java villages beyond where foreigners seldom stray, bule usually pay the same as the locals for a meal or a drink.
Though not around Malang. Bus station kiosks have become so used to backpackers that snack prices can be more than double. One hotel in a nearby town has a no-tax rate for Indonesians, but foreigners have to pay 20 per cent extra for the same room. Even if they’re married to an Indonesian who’s paying the bill.
Borobudur has probably the nation’s most outrageous entry-fee surcharge: Rp 7,000 for Indonesians, Rp 100,000 for foreigners.
How do they spot a local? The ticket clerks don’t ask, they just go on skin color. So lone olive skinned Italian-Australians and Taiwanese usually get the non-discriminatory ticket provided they don’t open their mouths.
Our complexion is the gift of the Deity and our genes. It has nothing to do with the number of rupiah we can stuff in our wallets. In fact there are many more seriously rich Indonesians than there are middle class Australians.
Never judge an Okker by his cover. We don’t like to show off and mask signs of wealth. If you want to be mocked Down Under, be ostentatious.
Aussie retailer Harvey Norman who has made his millions selling electrical goods boasts he owns only one pair of shoes, using the pedestrian argument that he has only one pair of feet. Not a line that would appeal to Imelda Marcos.
Despite Mr Norman’s riches the tax system in Australia is so ruthlessly efficient that it’s almost impossible to build the money mountains that can be seen in Indonesia. Earn anything substantial and the government will confiscate 47 per cent at source.
In a fair and just taxation regimen the rich pay most and the State uses this to build and maintain services for all. That wealth is measured by income, not eye-colour.
So when the Indonesian government sorts out its tax processes let’s hope officials rigidly enforce a just law. I don’t care about the cost of pussy’s progesterone if the price is the same for all and the tax goes to building a new school or upgrading health services.
(Tailnote: Pussy allegedly got her contraceptive jab at the Indonesian rate. It made no difference. Maybe I should have paid that extra Rp 10,000. Anyone want a kitten?)
(First published in The Sunday Post, 26 February 2006)
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It was only Rp 10,000, just over one lousy US dollar. Hardly worth getting catatonic. Just let it pass.
Not so easy. Sure, the sum was small. But it’s the principle that rankles. What principle? The one that says: White skin = big bucks.
Most bule who leave their comfort zone encounter the attitude daily in public transport, shops and restaurants. If you can spit back a bit of invective in street Javanese the issue usually dies with a shrug and a grin. Anyway, who can blame the poor and hard pressed for trying it on?
But I draw the line with professional services offered by the well-heeled. Or maybe this was the last straw, one passenger too many in the bemo after a series of non-stop demands for hand-outs.
To keep the screeching toms at bay the house ratter needed a contraceptive jab. Indonesian colleagues were quoted Rp 20,000 by the vet, but the identical pussy in the hands of the walking ATM would cost 50 per cent more. Same cat, same owner, different carrier.
Do not assume this is some pampered Persian purr machine whose owner imports Manchurian dove-breasts for kitty’s cuisine. This moggy is a rapacious kampung scavenger whose scarred ancestors know every drain. She’s called Ora, the Nusa Tenggara term for Komodo dragons. The resemblance goes beyond the name.
Long time foreign residents can pick rip-offs quickly enough. If there’s a nanosecond’s pause between the question: “How much?” and the reply, or a snap glance between worker and boss, then you’re getting the harga bule (Westerner’s price).
Although common in Bali and other tourist traps, different rates aren’t as frequent as some claim. In the suburbs of Surabaya and the East Java villages beyond where foreigners seldom stray, bule usually pay the same as the locals for a meal or a drink.
Though not around Malang. Bus station kiosks have become so used to backpackers that snack prices can be more than double. One hotel in a nearby town has a no-tax rate for Indonesians, but foreigners have to pay 20 per cent extra for the same room. Even if they’re married to an Indonesian who’s paying the bill.
Borobudur has probably the nation’s most outrageous entry-fee surcharge: Rp 7,000 for Indonesians, Rp 100,000 for foreigners.
How do they spot a local? The ticket clerks don’t ask, they just go on skin color. So lone olive skinned Italian-Australians and Taiwanese usually get the non-discriminatory ticket provided they don’t open their mouths.
Our complexion is the gift of the Deity and our genes. It has nothing to do with the number of rupiah we can stuff in our wallets. In fact there are many more seriously rich Indonesians than there are middle class Australians.
Never judge an Okker by his cover. We don’t like to show off and mask signs of wealth. If you want to be mocked Down Under, be ostentatious.
Aussie retailer Harvey Norman who has made his millions selling electrical goods boasts he owns only one pair of shoes, using the pedestrian argument that he has only one pair of feet. Not a line that would appeal to Imelda Marcos.
Despite Mr Norman’s riches the tax system in Australia is so ruthlessly efficient that it’s almost impossible to build the money mountains that can be seen in Indonesia. Earn anything substantial and the government will confiscate 47 per cent at source.
In a fair and just taxation regimen the rich pay most and the State uses this to build and maintain services for all. That wealth is measured by income, not eye-colour.
So when the Indonesian government sorts out its tax processes let’s hope officials rigidly enforce a just law. I don’t care about the cost of pussy’s progesterone if the price is the same for all and the tax goes to building a new school or upgrading health services.
(Tailnote: Pussy allegedly got her contraceptive jab at the Indonesian rate. It made no difference. Maybe I should have paid that extra Rp 10,000. Anyone want a kitten?)
(First published in The Sunday Post, 26 February 2006)
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Tuesday, February 21, 2006
A SURVIVOR'S STORY
REMEMBERING A GREAT NAVAL DISASTER © Duncan Graham
Tjip Boenandir is very happy he was born with long ear lobes.
That sounds more like a fairy tale opening than a story of war and survival. But Boenandir, who turns 87 this June, has mustered enough years to credit whatever he likes for his longevity and good fortune – including his aural genetic inheritance and traditional beliefs.
For he’s the only known living survivor in Indonesia of a catastrophic naval disaster in 1942 that was pivotal to the war in South-East Asia.
The Battle of the Java Sea cost the lives of more than 900 Dutch and Indonesian sailors and hundreds of British, Australian and American servicemen. It will be recalled at a special ceremony in Surabaya this month. (See sidebar) It lasted seven hours and was the world’s largest naval engagement since the Battle of Jutland in 1916.
On 27 February 64 years ago an armada of 14 allied warships set out from the East Java port. Their mission: To confront and halt the mighty Japanese fleet sailing south and intent on capturing the Dutch colonial prize of the Indonesian archipelago.
The Japanese had already proved their mastery over the British by swamping the Malay Peninsula and seizing the allegedly impregnable fortress of Singapore.
The next domino was to be Java. Yet the Dutch – already crippled by the war in Europe – were determined to fight.
Their gesture was gallant or foolhardy, depending on how you view history and the actions of military leaders. It was certainly doomed.
They were led by the cruiser De Ruyter under the command of Rear Admiral Karel Doorman with 485 men.
In his wake were three other Dutch warships and ships from Australia, the US and Britain.
By daybreak 917 men would have been blown up, shot or drowned in the Dutch ships alone. Among them were 220 Indonesians in service with the Dutch. Four ships were sunk (one by a Dutch mine) and three others damaged.
The Japanese fleet of 18 warships was better armed and armoured and had spotter planes and big torpedoes. These could travel twice the distance of the Allies’ weapons and carry half a tonne of explosives. Only four Japanese ships were hit and mainly suffered light damage.
Boenandir was a young stoker who had volunteered to join the Royal Netherlands Navy in 1937. He was deep in the engine room around 7 pm and felt the ship shudder when the De Ruyter was hit by the first shell on the forward deck.
Four men were killed but the shell didn’t explode. Many seamen must have considered this a good omen. They were wrong.
The Allies’ fleet was under equipped to fight. It had no air cover and was handicapped by language and communication code problems. Within 50 nautical miles of Surabaya they were soon straddled by Japanese shells from the enemy’s long-range guns
“They seemed to be firing at random and just spraying us,” said Boenandir. (In fact the Japanese fired more than 1,600 shells with only five hits. Four were duds.)
“The damage really came around 12.30 at night when a torpedo hit the stern area and broke the propellers.
“The engines stopped. There was no lighting. I tried to climb a ladder to the top decks. In the darkness I fell twice and injured my right leg.”
In the light of exploding ordinance he made it to the only lifeboat successfully launched. It was designed to carry 20 men but had 60. They watched in horror as the De Ruyter sank stern first about two hours after the torpedo hit. Those who couldn’t swim crowded the forward deck waiting their fate.
“We could hear the cries of the men and shooting,” he said, assuming that some were committing suicide rather than drown. “Many were trapped in the separate compartments of the ship.
“There was a senior Dutch officer on the lifeboat and he ordered us to paddle using our hands. There was no panic – we were disciplined.”
For two days the little lifeboat drifted under a scorching sun. Light rain eased their thirst. Then a Japanese warship spotted them.
Rescue or reprisal? The Japanese had a reputation for machine-gunning survivors of its attacks.
“We were lucky to meet some kind Japanese who obeyed the rule of the sea and rescued us,” Boenandir said. “We were pulled out of the sea like fish and sent to a camp near Semarang in Central Java.”
Indonesians in the Dutch armed forces were normally released by the Japanese, while Europeans were executed or sent to prisoner-of-war camps. But Boenandir had light skin and was thought to be Eurasian.
In fact he’s linked to the royal families of Yogya and clever enough to add Japanese to his languages. This got him concessions and eventually he was let free.
In 1945 he joined the revolutionaries. After fighting for the Dutch he turned to fighting against them. The technical skills he’d learned in the navy were put to good use in munitions and weaponry.
When pensioned by the TNI in 1972 as a lieutenant colonel he set about seeking compensation from his former employers. He’d been captured and imprisoned as a seaman in the Dutch military and wanted his back pay.
His claim wasn’t recognised till 2002, and only then through the help of Dutch and American POWs who verified that Boenandir had survived. The first payment was Rp 70,000 (US$ 7). Protests from fellow veterans boosted this tiny sum.
“I’m satisfied now,” he said at his home in Malang, East Java. “I have no hate for the Dutch. I’m proud to have served my country. I have 27 grand children. I’m still fit. God has given me a long life and I’m more than thankful.”
(Sidebar)
LEARNING FROM THE PAST
What lessons have been learned from the Battle of the Java Sea?
Former Dutch naval officer Peter Steenmeijer, now the director in Indonesia of the Netherlands War Graves Foundation, said the defeat stressed the need for a balanced navy, - surface ships, submarines, aircraft and marines.
“Navies need to train as they plan to fight,” he said. “They must coordinate and exercise regularly. This has to be well in advance, especially when operating as a multinational or joint force. And never underestimate your adversary.
“All crewmembers knew the battle was an impossible mission with great risks, but hardly any stayed behind.
“Before the battle the Dutch ships were damaged and already had casualties from enemy encounters. The crews were extremely tired. Nevertheless they gave everything. In my eyes that made them all heroes.”
In Surabaya’s Kembang Kuning (Yellow Flower) cemetery 5,000 victims of the war are buried. Relatives of the dead – Indonesian and Dutch - and the military representatives of the two once-warring nations will gather to remember the tragedy on 27 February.
A bell salvaged from the light cruiser Java will be presented. The memorial has now been inscribed with the names of all the sailors who perished and Doorman’s battle cry. Although he signalled in English: ‘All ships follow me’ this was later translated into Dutch as: Ik val aan, volgt mij!
Literally this means: ‘I attack, follow me!’ and has become a famous phrase in the naval history of the Netherlands.
##
(First published in The Jakarta Post 21 February 06)
">Link
Tjip Boenandir is very happy he was born with long ear lobes.
That sounds more like a fairy tale opening than a story of war and survival. But Boenandir, who turns 87 this June, has mustered enough years to credit whatever he likes for his longevity and good fortune – including his aural genetic inheritance and traditional beliefs.
For he’s the only known living survivor in Indonesia of a catastrophic naval disaster in 1942 that was pivotal to the war in South-East Asia.
The Battle of the Java Sea cost the lives of more than 900 Dutch and Indonesian sailors and hundreds of British, Australian and American servicemen. It will be recalled at a special ceremony in Surabaya this month. (See sidebar) It lasted seven hours and was the world’s largest naval engagement since the Battle of Jutland in 1916.
On 27 February 64 years ago an armada of 14 allied warships set out from the East Java port. Their mission: To confront and halt the mighty Japanese fleet sailing south and intent on capturing the Dutch colonial prize of the Indonesian archipelago.
The Japanese had already proved their mastery over the British by swamping the Malay Peninsula and seizing the allegedly impregnable fortress of Singapore.
The next domino was to be Java. Yet the Dutch – already crippled by the war in Europe – were determined to fight.
Their gesture was gallant or foolhardy, depending on how you view history and the actions of military leaders. It was certainly doomed.
They were led by the cruiser De Ruyter under the command of Rear Admiral Karel Doorman with 485 men.
In his wake were three other Dutch warships and ships from Australia, the US and Britain.
By daybreak 917 men would have been blown up, shot or drowned in the Dutch ships alone. Among them were 220 Indonesians in service with the Dutch. Four ships were sunk (one by a Dutch mine) and three others damaged.
The Japanese fleet of 18 warships was better armed and armoured and had spotter planes and big torpedoes. These could travel twice the distance of the Allies’ weapons and carry half a tonne of explosives. Only four Japanese ships were hit and mainly suffered light damage.
Boenandir was a young stoker who had volunteered to join the Royal Netherlands Navy in 1937. He was deep in the engine room around 7 pm and felt the ship shudder when the De Ruyter was hit by the first shell on the forward deck.
Four men were killed but the shell didn’t explode. Many seamen must have considered this a good omen. They were wrong.
The Allies’ fleet was under equipped to fight. It had no air cover and was handicapped by language and communication code problems. Within 50 nautical miles of Surabaya they were soon straddled by Japanese shells from the enemy’s long-range guns
“They seemed to be firing at random and just spraying us,” said Boenandir. (In fact the Japanese fired more than 1,600 shells with only five hits. Four were duds.)
“The damage really came around 12.30 at night when a torpedo hit the stern area and broke the propellers.
“The engines stopped. There was no lighting. I tried to climb a ladder to the top decks. In the darkness I fell twice and injured my right leg.”
In the light of exploding ordinance he made it to the only lifeboat successfully launched. It was designed to carry 20 men but had 60. They watched in horror as the De Ruyter sank stern first about two hours after the torpedo hit. Those who couldn’t swim crowded the forward deck waiting their fate.
“We could hear the cries of the men and shooting,” he said, assuming that some were committing suicide rather than drown. “Many were trapped in the separate compartments of the ship.
“There was a senior Dutch officer on the lifeboat and he ordered us to paddle using our hands. There was no panic – we were disciplined.”
For two days the little lifeboat drifted under a scorching sun. Light rain eased their thirst. Then a Japanese warship spotted them.
Rescue or reprisal? The Japanese had a reputation for machine-gunning survivors of its attacks.
“We were lucky to meet some kind Japanese who obeyed the rule of the sea and rescued us,” Boenandir said. “We were pulled out of the sea like fish and sent to a camp near Semarang in Central Java.”
Indonesians in the Dutch armed forces were normally released by the Japanese, while Europeans were executed or sent to prisoner-of-war camps. But Boenandir had light skin and was thought to be Eurasian.
In fact he’s linked to the royal families of Yogya and clever enough to add Japanese to his languages. This got him concessions and eventually he was let free.
In 1945 he joined the revolutionaries. After fighting for the Dutch he turned to fighting against them. The technical skills he’d learned in the navy were put to good use in munitions and weaponry.
When pensioned by the TNI in 1972 as a lieutenant colonel he set about seeking compensation from his former employers. He’d been captured and imprisoned as a seaman in the Dutch military and wanted his back pay.
His claim wasn’t recognised till 2002, and only then through the help of Dutch and American POWs who verified that Boenandir had survived. The first payment was Rp 70,000 (US$ 7). Protests from fellow veterans boosted this tiny sum.
“I’m satisfied now,” he said at his home in Malang, East Java. “I have no hate for the Dutch. I’m proud to have served my country. I have 27 grand children. I’m still fit. God has given me a long life and I’m more than thankful.”
(Sidebar)
LEARNING FROM THE PAST
What lessons have been learned from the Battle of the Java Sea?
Former Dutch naval officer Peter Steenmeijer, now the director in Indonesia of the Netherlands War Graves Foundation, said the defeat stressed the need for a balanced navy, - surface ships, submarines, aircraft and marines.
“Navies need to train as they plan to fight,” he said. “They must coordinate and exercise regularly. This has to be well in advance, especially when operating as a multinational or joint force. And never underestimate your adversary.
“All crewmembers knew the battle was an impossible mission with great risks, but hardly any stayed behind.
“Before the battle the Dutch ships were damaged and already had casualties from enemy encounters. The crews were extremely tired. Nevertheless they gave everything. In my eyes that made them all heroes.”
In Surabaya’s Kembang Kuning (Yellow Flower) cemetery 5,000 victims of the war are buried. Relatives of the dead – Indonesian and Dutch - and the military representatives of the two once-warring nations will gather to remember the tragedy on 27 February.
A bell salvaged from the light cruiser Java will be presented. The memorial has now been inscribed with the names of all the sailors who perished and Doorman’s battle cry. Although he signalled in English: ‘All ships follow me’ this was later translated into Dutch as: Ik val aan, volgt mij!
Literally this means: ‘I attack, follow me!’ and has become a famous phrase in the naval history of the Netherlands.
##
(First published in The Jakarta Post 21 February 06)
">Link
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