RANT

fitna

Sun, 6 Apr 2008 19:44:08 +0700

Today’s the deadline. Earlier this week the Indonesian Government said it would block Youtube if it did not take down Geert Wilders’ hate-piece, Fitna. So what’s all the fuss about?

The movie is about 15 minutes long. It opens with a book with an ornate cover (supposedly Al-Qur'an) opening. As the pages turn, that cartoon is displayed: the Prophet Mohammed with a bomb in his turban.

Then comes the crunch: a quote from Al-Qur'an: “Prepare to destroy them with all force, terrorize Allah’s enemy and your enemy” (sura 8:40).

The next couple of minutes comprise footage from September 11 and the Madrid bombing, mixed in with video footage of what I expect is an Al-Qaeda leader and Iranian clerics pronouncing that Allah is happy when non-Muslims are killed - all accompanied by the instantly recognisable, but somewhat lame, Arabian Dance from Peer Gynt Suite.

That’s the first five minutes. I didn’t watch any further. From a quick scan, the rest looked like more of the same crap. How hard can it be to put together a couple of “kill all infidels” quotes? Christ, the Old Testament is brimming with violence, hatred and intolerance!

Wilders said that the film shows how verses from Al-Qur'an are being used today to incite Muslims to violence. He is quoted as saying the film is “a call to shake off the creeping tyranny of Islamization,” whatever that means.

You’ve got to wonder at the morality - and mentality - of a person who uses political power for such a hateful purpose. Geert Wilders is taking a strike at Holland’s immigration policy - particularly Muslim immigrants. It’s not hard to see the parallels to Hitler’s campaign against the Jews, gypsies, gays and pretty much anyone else he didn’t consider “German”. He too used fear, ignorance and deep-rooted social prejudices for his own political ends.

How is this any different?

over it

Sun, 6 Apr 2008 18:32:53 +0700

For the last couple of days I have been in Bali at the Grand Hyatt in Nusa Dua. It's really something: immaculate manicured gardens, pools and bars, all overlooking a startling white beach.

It's my first real "resort" experience here. Earlier trips have pretty much always been with friends, staying in one of the thousands of private villas that make up much of Seminyak and compete with rice farmers for land. I've tried out a couple of the boutique hotels, such as the Allila Manggis, two hours up the east coast, and the Tugu, with its imposing bale bale and sombre garuda.

At the risk of sounding like a complete prat, I am beginning to tire of the myth of Bali. What do I mean? Well, I am slowly realizing that, while wildly different, the Tugu, Grand Hyatt and the plethora of villas and hotels that dominate the island are all selling the idea of Bali, an idea which has pretty much nothing to do with reality.

Don't get me wrong, I like a bit of gamelan degung now and then as much as the next bloke (!) and the handmade cinnamin and bali lime soap in the bathroom is a nice touch. Overall, very pleasing to the eye - and mind. Very nice.

Of course it's bloody nice. The land has been stipped and rice paddies drained. The nipa palm has been replaced with the more pleasing (and flowering) kamboja and vast tracts of buffalo grass lawn have been installed. As a finishing touch, water ponds have been stocked with koi and lillies, in a bizarre pop-cultural schism. This is a seriously impressive production, designed to sooth and assuage the hyper-stressed Westerner left tweaking and wide-eyed after a plane trip across a continent and seven time zones.

Which is fine. I'm not going to begrudge some travel-weary tourist his five days in "paradise". But what I find a bit grating is the deduction that, by comparison, Bali is some sort of Hindu sanctum, a refuge from the rest of the archipelago. For many of the expats, Bali is somewhere we go to "re-energise the soul" - to use an expression I have heard more than one bule use.

It's an uncomfortable comparison: Bali and Indonesia as a whole. Bali is largely Hindu and Java - and the rest of Indonesia - is (of course) largely Muslim. By implication, the Hindu Balinese are supposedly serene (read: "placid") as opposed to the predominately Muslim Javanese, who are... well, what?

The sad truth is that, even putting aside the inane stupidity of comparing Jakarta to a resort, if you bother to step outside gated confines of Nusa Dua, the only real difference is the beach. There is the same bustle and scramble, the same poverty and and even the same mad traffic.

It's not the island that's different. It's the attitude of its visitors. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that if a man needs to go to a resort to "re-energize the soul", then he probably needs to take a good hard look at his life.

For paradise with a conscience, try East Bali Villa. All profits go to the East Bali Poverty Project.

sudoku

Sat, 29 Mar 2008 16:20:58 +0700

Coke Zero and Sudoku, poolside at Jl Pangeran Antasari, Jakarta Selatan
Saturday, 29 March 2008, 9:20 a.m.

death

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 01:44:34 +0700

For as long as I have known her - nearly two years - Awan's aunt has had cancer. Meeting her you wouldn't realize that she was suffering from a terminal illness. Well into her seventies, she seemed a woman crippled by age, not illness. Behind the lines on her face her eyes sparkled. Each time I met her, she would struggle to her feet, grab my hands with her two hands and greet me effusively in bahasa Indonesia, slowly and clearly enunciating her words for my benefit.

I have never been told her name. Awan refers to each of his three elderly aunts as “Aunty” and seems a bit surprised that I don’t automatically know which one he is talking about. I stopped asking long ago, instead adopting the rather insensitive “Cancer Aunty”, “Blind Aunty” and “Loud Aunty”.

A month ago, Cancer Aunty’s health took a turn for the worse. X-rays showed that the cancer had spread to her bones, leaving them brittle, to the point that the slightest pressure would cause them to break. Soon, she was unable to walk without the asistance of crutches. Eventually, she was confined to a wheelchair.

Sadly, the sudden decline in her physical condition reflected the fact that the cancer was winning. A week ago, she stopped responding to the medication. The doctors tried changing medication, to no avail. Without drugs, she was in constant pain. It seemed to me that she wouldn't last much longer.

On Wednesday afternoon, she slipped into a coma. There being little that the doctors could do and, perhaps seeing the inevitable, sent her home.

For the next two days, day-to-day life stopped for Awan and his family. His aunt lay at home, unconscious most of the time. Her daughter, Wihartin, and two sisters were with her constantly, bathing her and talking quietly with her. Awan's childhood friend, Freddy, read quietly from the Koran, taking short breaks as family and friends came to pay their respects. For two days she was surrounded by her family and friends.

Then on Friday night at 8:35 p.m. she passed away.

I have never experienced the pain of the death of someone so close. Witnessing Awan and his family experience this was touching and deeply moving. Their grief is evidence of how she touched each of their lives so profoundly. It is evidence of the love they had - and still have - for her. How can anyone not be moved by proof of love?

korea

Sun, 16 Mar 2008 18:19:53 +0700

Bee Bim Bab, Restaurant Row, Pondok Indah Mall, Jakarta Selatan
Sunday, 16 March 2008, 7:30 p.m.

oyster

Sun, 9 Mar 2008 14:38:26 +0700

Gourmet Garage, Kemang, Jakarta Selatan
Sunday, 9 March 2008, 7:27 p.m.

yacht

Sat, 8 Mar 2008 18:24:22 +0700

Pacific Bay, home to such fine dining as Crystal Jade and Y+Y Sushi, is located on the 4th Floor
of one of Jakarta’s more ostentatious displays of wealth, One Pacific Place.
Saturday, 8 March 2008, 11:00 a.m.

gina

Fri, 7 Mar 2008 14:28:18 +0700

Earlier this week I read an article by Gina Trapani (editor of the very cool Lifehacker website). Gina wrote about the pros and cons of taking a laptop with you on holiday in Southeast Asia (specifically Bangkok/Thailand).

The article itself was good: a blow-by-blow account of her experience with internet cafes, hotel room facilities and lamenting the lack of toilet paper. As with anything that Gina writes, there was a substantial comments trail. Nine times out of ten, the comments are just as good as the reading. Most of those commenting were clearly seasoned travelers. Most had something useful to add (buy Kleenex if you miss the toilet paper).

So why mention it? While there was nothing particularly offensive in the article or comments, it seemed like Gina and her posse (presumably mostly American) couldn't quite get over the fact that things are different outside Wyoming. No, you won't find toilet paper in most public toilets because it's a stupid wasteful invention that hasn't (yet) caught on with the masses. Yes, power outlets vary from country to country. Um, yeah.

There's something intrinsically stupid about a person who expresses surprise at the fact that the World is a diverse and varied place.

onion

Sun, 2 Mar 2008 08:08:06 +0700

Black Onion restaurant and cafe, Cipete, Jakarta Selatan
Saturday, 1 March 2008, 11:48 a.m.

britney

Tue, 8 Jan 2008 18:45:55 +0700

I am beginning to notice a truly surreal correlation between Britney Spears’ latest breakdown and former President Soeharto’s health worries: the gossip, the anticipation and the niggling feeling that the whole thing has been staged. Apparently I am not alone. This morning, those brave people on the Jakarta Post‘s editorial staff reminded us that this has all happened before:

There was a sense of deja vu... but as in previous years it turned out to be another false alarm. Soeharto recovered and will, according to his doctors, be discharged and sent home. We have all gone through this exercise almost every year for the last five or six years, and this latest incident followed what has by now become a predictable script.

The latest instalment has, as always, sparked debate on what to do with the General. Apart from the billions that disappeared from the government’s coffers during his 32 year reign, there are the countless human rights abuses that occurred under his watch go unpunished. Does anyone remember East Timor?

Even so, there is a seriously large number of Indonesians out there who look back at his reign through proverbial rose-tinted glasses. Some see him as the man who saved Indonesia from communism, overlooking the fact that this was achieved by murdering anyone suspected of being a communist. What followed was one of history’s bloodiest massacres with hundreds of thousands of alleged communists murdered by Soeharto’s militias. A decade later, he “saved” East Timor from the same fate, by invading it and then brutally suppressing the Timorese in what is now considered one of the most serious violations of human rights during the second half of the twentieth century.

Many credit him as the architect of modern Indonesia, without whom Indonesia would not have experienced the development and growth it did. Of course, he had vast oil resources on hand to help and much of the so-called prosperity was achieved by selling off Indonesia’s valuable resources to foreign investors. And let’s not forget that he and his cronies benefited the most from Indonesia’s new found prosperity.

What is undeniable is that corruption flourished under corruption to the point that it now cripples both the economy and the fabric of society. This is his legacy, not a modern economy or the defeat of communism.
The sad part of Soeharto's story is not so much his prolonged illness but that he is squandering valuable time and opportunity to rectify the misdeeds he committed during his 32-year rule... Indonesians are a forgiving lot, and while we may have some lapses of memories from time to time, the Soeharto legacy is too powerful to forget.
The Jakarta Post, 8 January 2008

dumb 2

Tue, 8 Jan 2008 02:25:01 +0700

It happened so fast that if you weren’t watching, you would have missed the only news item more interesting than the latest instalment in the reality show that is Britney Spears. “Soeharto rushed to hospital” screamed Saturday’s Jakarta Post. For a moment there, it seemed that the old bastard was finally on his way out. About bloody time! What followed the rather dramatic headline was a blow-by-blow account of the General’s developing medical condition with no fewer than three high ranking physicians giving their testimony.

But it was not meant to be. By the time Sunday’s paper hit the presses, Soeharto’s health had started to improve “after undergoing dialysis treatment”. Oh come on! How stupid do they think we are?! Obviously pretty stupid because by Monday the Golkar party was calling for the Attorney-General to drop all charges against the former dictator and UN-declared thief.

Golkar party chairman, Agung Laksono, called on the Attorney-General to invoke a legal provision which allows the AGO to drop all charges against the former dictator “for the sake of the public good”. For who’s sake?

I almost feel sorry for Laksono and the other Golkar party cronies hiding behind Soeharto. Almost. For years they profited under Soeharto, reaping the rewards of a corrupt and oppressive government. Laksono himself is said to have abused his government position by using government funds to set up his budget airline carrier, Adam Air. Not surprisingly, Adam Air had no problems securing heavily regulated licences and airport landing rights. It all came crashing down twelve months ago when Flight 574 and its 96 passengers disappeared from radar somewhere over the Java Sea.

Laksono & Co continue to sit there in government only because no-one, the Attorney-General and President included, dare touch them while Soeharto is alive. But their time is almost up - and they know it.

dumb

Mon, 24 Dec 2007 07:21:17 +0700

Christians really are the dumber species - at least here in Jakarta. What with everything pretty quiet here for a while now, it is easy to forget that there is religious tension in parts of the country, particularly in Medan and Sulawesi, where Christians and Muslims do clash from time to time. It’s also easy to forget that there are people out there who would just as soon blow up a church as they would a night club, hotel or foreign embassy. Only last year, Police discovered a bomb at Kristus Salvator Church in West Jakarta.

It’s not surprising then that the Head of Jakarta Polda has deployed 17,690 officers to 173 churches across Jakarta. What is surprising is the reaction of some churchgoers - at least those interviewed by The Jakarta Post. According to the Post, some churchgoers don’t like the added security. find the added security “off-putting”. A woman interviewed by the Post went as far to say “I know it’s (the Police’s) duty, but somehow I felt uncomfortable as I had to stand in a long line just to get into the church.” Um, more uncomfortable than a bomb going off under your fanny?!

Security checks are a part of life. Cars are inspected as you drive into car parks, bags are checked or scanned as you enter malls, most hotels and office buildings get you to walk through a metal detector before entering. It sort of makes sense that you would go through the same sort of thing when entering a church. No?

poo

Sun, 23 Dec 2007 13:56:40 +0700

A couple of months ago I wrote about my first encounter with Javanese fauna, the musang. This particular musang had taken a liking to the coconut palm trees that shade my pool. A couple of months ago, it took up lodging in my roof. I am assured that this is a good thing, particularly because the only thing the musang likes munching on more than flowers and berries is rats.

Not that the rats are a problem. We've been in the house for nearly six months and I have only seen two – and one of those was hanging from Catty's mouth. They are fearsome creatures: big black beasts with long hairless tails. Not quite Disney or Pixar material. Even street-smart Puss2, my kampung cat, steers clear of them. Ironically, her nemesis, Catty, who is part-Burmese part-kilim rug, is a born rat-killer. If you've ever seen a cat kill something, you'll know it's not pretty. The slightly stupid fluff-ball with oversized paws we call Catty turns into some sort of fluffy version of Vlad the Impaler when he gets his claws on a rat, tossing it around and seeming to revel in its pain.

Having a resident musang is a mixed blessing. Deprived of rats, Catty has reverted to his allotted role of cute fluffy pet (cute is a bit hard to pull off with rat blood streaked down your front). He's even given up pacing the house at night and howling to be let out to fulfil his blood-lust. But the upstairs tenant has taken some getting used to. Far from the soft scratching you would expect from a possum living in your roof, our resident musang is a noisy bugger, scurrying around the roof as if he were in the last minutes of a futsal match.

For the first week or so, I'd lie in bed listening to this beast scurry around, imagining him hitting a weak spot and crashing through into the bedroom. After a while, I stopped noticing. Things seemed to be going okay until something started crapping in my pool. Every morning a pile of coconut husks would appear on the edge of pool. Right next to, was another pile of droppings. The only problem is that next to “the edge of the pool” is “in the pool”. Not quite so easy to clean up. At first I thought it was our new tenant. Not so. Apparently the droppings are left by bats. The gardener assures me that there is no risk of the bats moving in. Not unless they plan on being our tenant’s next meal.

rich

Fri, 21 Dec 2007 19:04:13 +0700

Forbes has just published its rich list. In twelve months, the 40 wealthiest Indonesians have nearly doubled their personal wealth, adding $18 billion to their combined wealth, bringing it up to $40 billion. That's pretty impressive when you consider that nearly half the population, 110 million people live below the poverty line.

Indonesia boasts four new billionaires, bringing the total to eleven. New to the billionaire's club is General Suharto's second son, Bambang Trihatmodjo, joined the list, coming in at number 33 with $200 million. Like his brother, Tommy, Bambang is a gun enthusiast and is the president of an "extreme" shooting organization in which participants go through an obstacle course shooting pop-up targets. The question on everyone's lips: what about Bambang's brothers and sisters? In 1999, Time magazine (somewhat conservatively) estimated the Suharto family wealth at $15 billion. What happened?

Aburizal Bakrie tops the list with a net worth of $5.4 billion. Aburizal's company, Lapindo Brantas, is responsible for the mud volcano that destroyed buried villages, displacing thousands of people and crippled the East Java economy. He leads a pack that includes our diminutive Vice President, his brother-in-law and a swag of of cigarette manufacturers, bankers, cement makers, palm oil plantation owners, retailers, hoteliers and noodle barons.

The only do-gooders on the list I could find is the Sampoerna family who, after selling their cigarette company to Philip Morris in 2005, have set up a variety of philanthropic enterprises.

Image copyright Arif Hidayat, 2007. On 5:00 a.m. on 28 May 2006, a drill operated by mining company Lapindo Brantas penetrated overpressured limestone, causing entrainment of mud by water. The influx of water to the well bore caused a hydrofracture. But instead of entering the borehold (which would have occurred if Lapindo had protected the drill sting with the required steel casing), the steam and water penetrated the surrounding strata. The pressure caused the borehole to crack. Hot toxic mud erupted from the borehole and continues today unabated. By February 2007, the resulting mud “volcano” had spewed forth 12 million cubic metres of mud, buried four villages and 25 factories, displaced 11,000 people and killed another 11. Infrastructure has been damaged extensively, including toll roads, railway tracks, power transmission systems, gas pipelines and national artery roads. To date, Lapindo is yet to pay one cent in compensation.

abraham

Thu, 13 Dec 2007 01:55:29 +0700

The build-up to Christmas this year has been a bit surreal so far. This year, the Muslim festival of Eid ul Adha falls a couple of days before Christmas. Watching preparations for each holiday has been a remarkable study in contrast.

Christmas in Jakarta is pretty much like Christmas anywhere else I have lived: decorations began appearing in the last week of November, including the obligatory “boogying Santa” swinging his hips in a somewhat grotesquely suggestive manner at the bottom of the ground floor escalators in Sogo department store. Everywhere you go, Marey Carey and Whitney Houstin out-warble each other. The fact that it's 32 degrees outside is nothing unusual. Back home, Christmas Day typically started with a swim at the beach followed by a barbecue. Okay, so 32 degrees in New Zealand in late December would be a bit unusual, but you get the general idea.

If evidence of Christmas is everywhere, the only thing that suggests the approaching Eid ul Adha festival is the sudden appearance of goats tied up on street corners. On Thursday, Muslims commemmorate when Allah demanded that Ibraheem (Abraham) sacrifice his first born son, Ismaeel (Isaac). I remember this story from Sunday school. Just as Abraham was about to do the deed, an angel stopped him and presented him with a ram to sacrifice instead. Mohammed directed Muslims to commemorate this event by sacrificing animals so remember Allah's test and learn from it. What lesson is to be learned, I don't know, except maybe that God of the early Jews was a pretty spiteful bugger.

Goats are the beast of choice for most Indonesians, though this morning I saw men forcing two rather impressive bullocks on to the back of a truck. Off to the slaughter. As you might expect, you can't leave it to the last minute to pick up your sacrificial beast. Awan headed home two weeks ago to pick two goats: one for his aunts and the other for the mosque. He came back a couple of days later, somewhat pleased with his selection: fat and perfect for satay.

A study in contrast: my tree (L) and Rembrandt’s masterpiece (R). Is Isaac was the “father of the Arab people”, then his daddy sure is white!

night/thump

Wed, 31 Oct 2007 12:35:23 +0700

Over time you become accustomed to the noises that fill the night, including the 4 am call and the rooster that lives just over the wall in the neighbouring kampung. Until last night. I was woken in the wee hours by a something clambering over the roof. It started above the main bedroom, climbed through the coconut palm that hangs over the pool to land on the roof opposite the courtyard. Getting up, I swear I saw something resembling a cross between a large rat and a velociraptor. Since it was most unlikely that a rat could get so big (this thing was at least as big as a dog), it could only be some undiscovered species of dragon.

Apparently my sleepiness clouded my judgment. My new friend was nothing more than a musang, or an Asian palm civet. No larger than a cat, the musang forages at night searching for fruit. It was no doubt after the palm flower sap in the palm outside my window. Apparently they are also excellent rat hunters. Now that’s a good thing wherever you live!

I’m still not convinced the dragon that rampaged across my roof was the cute little guy on the left. Who can be sure if South Jakarta is not home to some genetic throw-back to the velociraptor?

money/love

Sun, 28 Oct 2007 13:57:07 +0700

I am sitting on a train on my way back from Awan’s village, Ketangungan. The main reason for this trip was to inspect the newly installed flushing toilet I gave as an Eid ul Fitri gift. But there was a second purpose.

Six weeks ago, a most perplexing scenario presented itself to Awan as he sat in his skivvies eating bubur ayam (for breakfast) in the house he grew up in. He had gone home to arrange the installation of the new toilet and was getting ready to start work when a mother and daughter, in full muslim regalia arrived bearing gold, money and a most unexpected marriage proposal.

When Awan told me, my first reaction was to laugh. But as I learned more about Irin and her family I began to appreciate how serious the situation was. Irin’s family is one of the wealthiest in Ketangungan. Her father owns several shops and a large house near the town centre. He drives a late model car (unheard of in Central Java) and has a brood of university educated children. The youngest, Irin, works as a teacher at the local junior high school. She is very young to be a government employee, a position most certainly bought by her father.

Awan’s family couldn’t present a stronger contrast. His three aunts live in an old house built by their father, Awan’s grandfather, in the 1950s. It’s a fine house, but it has seen better days. There are none of the modern niceties. Awan’s aunts have had hard lives. Two are widowed and one, blind from a young age, never married. The oldest of the three has cancer. She is too old to have surgery and visits the hospital every month for medical treatment.

The warung (small store) at the front of the house provides them with a small income. Awan’s cousin, Wihartin, runs the warung, selling food and drink to locals. Their income is supplemented by Awan, who sends money every month. Awan was raised by these three women and is devoted to them. When you meet them, you can understand why. They are warm and hospitable. There is a quiet dignity about them, if that makes any sense.

Main street Ketangungan, Central Java. At the height of the day, the street is impassable for anything larger than a becak.

The proposal came as a complete surprise to Awan, though no doubt the two families must have discussed it beforehand. How else could they have known when Awan would be in Ketangungan? Irin and Ibu (mother) chatted with Awan’s cousin and aunts in the front room while Awan hurriedly washed and dressed. When he presented himself, Ibu did all the talking. She presented her daughter for marriage, along with a wedding ring, other gold jewelry and an (as yet) undisclosed amount of money.

Later that day, Irin’s father (Pak) arrived at the house (again unannounced). By this time, Awan had come up with what might be acceptable excuses: he didn’t know the girl (delaying tactic); he wasn’t ready for marriage (lacks credibility). In the end, he told Pak that his principal commitment was to his family and for so long as he had that commitment, he could not get married. A very valid and honourable reason. But Pak wouldn’t hear of it. He would make sure Awan’s family would be looked after; he would buy Awan a house close to his aunts; he would give Awan a job in Ketangungan so he could be close to his aunts.

Talking to Awan later, I learned that he could not turn down the proposal right away. Irin’s parents had clearly put a lot of thought into this and turning them down immediately would have been disrespectful. It would have suggested that he did not take them or their proposal seriously. So he told Pak that he would give his answer after Eid ul Fitri.

“Hey Mister! Photo!” Grins were replaced with “we’re too cool” smirks when the bule with the camera complied with the request for a photo. Fishermen at Brebes near Ketangungan, Central Java.

A couple of days later, Pak turned up at the house again, this time with the title to a piece of land only 100 metres from his aunts’ house. The title was in Awan’s name, the land cleared for a new house.

When Awan told me, I began to wonder about the pressure this kind of situation presented. Irin’s father presented Awan with a very attractive offer: an end to finance worries. I grew up with fables about temptation - most of them Christian in origin (at least in their most recent incarnations). The long and short of it: if it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Morality tales aside, the situation in which Awan found himself demonstrates the power of money, particularly over those who don’t have any. In the following weeks, Irin’s father went on to demonstrate that he too understood full well the power of money.

Two days before the Eid ul Fitri holiday, Awan’s deadline, Irin arrived at the house with a truckload of ceramic tiles to replace the existing roof. Awan returned home to find the tiles lined up along the side of the house, his neighbours buzzing with questions about Irin and her Eid ul Fitri gift. Later that day, Awan learned from his cousin, Agus, that Irin’s father had paid for treatment Agus’ mother received at the hospital that week. What was presented as a gesture of kindness, was also a deliberate attempt to buy favour from Awan’s family. “They are good people”, Agus told Awan later. “See how it could be...”

Ultimately, Awan turned down the proposal. But even that came at a price. With their conspicuous displays, Irin’s family drew the attention of Awan’s neighbours, friends and the village generally to what should have been a personal matter between Awan, Irin and her family.

I have learned so much from this experience, mostly about relationships. It has so many facets that its hard to pull it all together. Maybe later...

facilitation

Sat, 20 Oct 2007 16:25:58 +0700

Like most lawyers, I tend not to talk about my work. Part of this stems from client confidentiality, but the main reason is that I suspect it’s just not interesting. That changed when I moved to Indonesia. There’s nothing particularly unusual about Indonesian law. It’s the Indonesian context within which we must operate which makes it so interesting.

For those of you who don’t know, I work for an international IP (intellectual property) consultancy. We help (mostly) foreign clients with their IP strategies. A significant part of this work involves advising them how to tackle IP infringement, such as trademark and DVD piracy. This is often an eye-opener for foreign companies, to say the least. Often they react with disbelief - sometimes anger - when they learn of the extent of IP theft and the difficulties involved in stopping it.

One of the more significant challenges at the moment is our relationship with the Police. The way the legal system is structured, IP owners have pretty much no choice but to seek support from the Police to stop IP theft and infringement.

You do this by filing a “complaint report”. If the “complaint” relates to unauthorized use of a trademark (as it often does), the Police are legally required to investigate, usually by raiding the factory, shop or warehouse in question. Then the Police must prepare an investigation report for the public prosecutor, who takes the case to Court for trial.

In practice things work a bit differently. The Police will not take any action - they will not even allow you to file a complaint report - unless the IP owner contributes to the Police’s operational costs in the form of a “facilitation payment”. This is okay in principle; conceptually, facilitation payments are not a problem. They are allowed under Indonesia’s anti-corruption laws and specifically excluded from the definition of “bribe” under the US anti-corruption law (so long as certain criteria are met).

The purpose of a facilitation payment is to assist the Police with the operational costs associated with the investigation. Logically, this might include the cost of hiring a truck to transport counterfeit products the Police seize, or the cost of renting a warehouse for storage of the seizure. If the Police need to run laboratory tests (this is often necessary where counterfeit pharmaceuticals are involved), they might ask for help with the laboratory costs. In some cases, the Police might ask for some overtime or meal allowances. All this is is quite legitimate.

To give you an example of how this is supposed to work, in one case, the Police helped us with a raid in Surabaya, Jakarta’s second largest city. The Police were overwhelmed and under-prepared for the quantity of counterfeit machinery parts (industrial roller chains) they seize. In the end, one of our quick thinking lawyers hired a fleet of becek (rickshaws) to transport the seized products back to the Police station. Needless to say, we (not the Police) paid the becek drivers for the use of their vehicles.

All this is necessary because the Police are under-funded and under-resourced - at the street level, anyway. Budgets at the Polres (regional) level only cover 40% of operational requirements. At the Polsek (district) level - the front-line Police - operational budgets are non-existent. Often this means that the Police stations don’t have enough money to pay for their own petrol, let alone hire trucks and warehouses so they can carry out raids.

Not that this is unique to Indonesia. I recently met the head of London’s Economic Crimes Unit, who cited case after case of examples where the “victim” has provided the Police with operational support during the course of an investigation. Sure, the examples he gave all involved high-level technical support, such as face-recognition equipment, and there are all sorts of checks and balances in place to make sure it couldn’t be said the Police were being unduly influenced, but the principle is the same.

The problem we now have is that the legitimate practice of providing the Police with operational support appears to have been hijacked for nefarious means.

When we rock up to Polda to file a complaint report, we already have a pretty good idea of what the Police are likely to discover when they carry out a raid. We have already carried out our own investigation, surveyed the site in question, taken some photos and the such. As a result, it’s pretty easy to figure out what a raid and the subsequent investigation will involved from an operational perspective. Will the Police need trucks? How many and how big? Do the Police have enough storage space or do we need to rent a warehouse? Will the Police need to interview experts or carry out lab tests? With a calculator and a bit of common-sense, you can quickly figure out how much this is all likely to cost.

So, we know what help the Police require and how much this is likely to cost. Logically, the next step would be to pay those costs directly to the truck driver, laboratory or warehouse owner, or to the Police on them giving us some sort of receipt in return. Because we cannot simply hand money over to the Police; that is illegal will most likely result in us all (including the Police) serving jail sentences.

But that’s exactly what is expected: a large unmarked envelope containing a similarly large amount of money.

Even if you could put aside the fact that this kind of carry on is highly illegal, all this wouldn’t be so bad if we knew that the money would actually be used as intended. But all the evidence suggests it’s not. In cases where we have been able to hand over money (because we have received receipts in return), it’s been pretty obvious that none, if any, of the money has been used as promised.

in this case, the brand-owner paid US$2,500 to cover the costs associated with a secure destruction site and security personnel. Not only was no security provided, but villagers from the neighbouring kampung crossed the river to intercept the counterfeit cigarettes before they could be incinerated. Not surprisingly, some ended back on the streets of Jakarta. So where does the money go...?

If you’ve seen my previous rants about corruption, you can probably guess how I feel about this. There is no doubt that the Police genuinely need help and, on the whole, IP rights holders are quite willing to help. Ironically, by adopting this practice, the Police have effectively eliminated a potentially significant source of income. The result: no money, no enforcement.

The Police today doesn’t look all that different from the way it did 8 years ago. Prior to 1999, it was part of the Army. In fact, for pretty much all of its 62 year history, the Police have operated as a division of the Indonesian military forces. After President Suharto “stepped down”, plans were made to transform it into a modern police force. However, these haven’t materialized into real reform. Not yet, anyway. It is still largely a military institution, with all the associated trappings.

Under Suharto (himself an Army general), the Army controlled significant parts of the economy and operated legitimate and illegitimate businesses. Corruption was (and is) rampant. It’s not surprising then that the Police exhibit the same cultural and institutional traits as the Army. Corruption has been institutionalized. The Police extract "unofficial fees" whenever and wherever they can. A traffic citation can be waived by paying a 50.000 rupiah fine. A Police escort can be bought for 500.000 rupiah ($50). They operate legitimate and, more often than not, illegitimate businesses. They extort payment from criminals and law-abiding citizens alike. As the Army’s influence wanes, the opportunities previously available only to the Army are now the domain of the Police. A career in the Police can be very lucrative and the opportunity to attend the Police academy carries a hefty price - 60 million rupiah ($6,500), I am told. This is a very hefty price when you consider that a typical officer’s salary is around 800.000 rupiah a month - about $1,000 per annum.

This is the context we are faced with. So what do you do? This is the challenge we have right now: how to crack this. So far, this has involved a lot of talking: to the United States Trade Representative and the City of London Police - to name a few. Talking and listening, as we try to figure out how best to tackle this. Ideally, we hope to establish a working framework which allows IP owners to work with the Police, providing operational and financial support fully in compliance with the various anti-corruption laws. The key to success is showing the Police that there is something in it for them. Watch this space!

carcass

Sat, 13 Oct 2007 18:33:24 +0700

Right now we are in the middle of Eid ul Fitri. This most holy of holidays marks the end of Ramadhan, the fasting month. Understandably, it’s a big deal.

The festivities begin on the last night of Ramadhan. After breaking fast for the last time, most people gather to participate in Takbiran, a parade with much drum banging. Then children let off fireworks to celebrate.

At this time of year I really feel like an outsider. That night, I lay in bed and listened to the drums and fireworks launched from just behind the wall separating my garden from the kampung. Awan had already gone back to Ketangungan to spend the holiday with his family, my maid, Jariyah, had already been gone for a week. Earlier that evening my driver had delivered a traditional Javanese dish of chicken and lontong, his wife apparently feeling sorry for the abandoned bule. But now the house was completely quiet. Even the cats had taken to cowering under furniture, frightened by the screaming rockets. I felt like a bit of a loser -like a kid stuck in bed sick on Guy Fawkes night.

The holiday has a particularly unique impact on Jakarta. In the week building up to the Eid ul Fitri holiday, Jakartans (at least, the Muslim ones) return to the villages where their families live, particularly their parents. This mass exodus causes unimaginable traffic chaos for the week leading up to the holiday. The airports and train stations are packed. The traffic jams are astounding. Last year it took Awan 18 hours to travel the 300 kilometres to his home village - a trip that usually takes about 4 hours.

TransTV runs a nightly news service, Pulang Kampung 2007, which purports to provide up to the minute information on congestion hot spots. Invariably all the show does it confirm what commuters already know (the traffic is terrible) and does little more than provide a nice advertising platform for its sponsors, Castrol and Telkomsel.

This great exodus pretty much leaves the city without its service infrastructure, causing Jakarta to shut down for a week. Those left behind are likely to do one of two things: head to Bali (which is predominantly Hindu and therefore open for business) or check into a hotel. I overheard an amusing exchange in the gym locker-room a couple of days before the holiday. One bloke expressed surprise at his friend coming to the gym twice in one day. His friend responded that on his first visit he had only come to use the gym’s shower and wash facilities. His maids had left a couple of days before and the family had run out of clean towels.

Jalan Antasari outside my gate on the first morning of Eid ul Fitri. As you can see, there is a remarkable amount of tar-seal showing.

On Saturday the streets were eerily quiet. Friends had taken a villa on the outskirts of Tangerang, one of the cities that make up the metropolis. This would be my second time to the villa, so I felt quite confident making the trip without a driver. Nonetheless, it still took me longer to plan the trip than it did to drive there. While there was still a significant amount of traffic on the tollway, by Jakarta’s standards it was deathly quiet, a dream run. The last ten or so kilometres of the drive to the villa is along a pott-holed road winding through small villages. The last time I had taken the trip, the road was a hive of activity. Motorcycles, trucks, becek and pedestrians were everywhere, intermingling with no sense of order. This time I pretty much had the road to myself, only occasionally needing to slow for the odd motorcycle. The last leg of the trip is across an old abandoned air field. The now-buckled runway doubles as road, two old planes disintegrating in the scrub.

An old war plane abandoned on what used to be an airstrip on the Western outskirts of Tangerine - now used as a road and the last leg of my trip to Villa Tangerine.

Not long after lunch, while dozing in the shade, Awan called. He would head back to Jakarta that night, much earlier than planned. Apparently, his would be suitor was using the holiday to her advantage and he couldn’t take the harassment. But that’s another story...

puasa

Sat, 6 Oct 2007 16:21:15 +0700

Perhaps the most widely-known fact about Indonesia is its predominantly Muslim population. Eighty percent of its 230 million citizens are Muslim. This is a confusing concept for Westerners. For example, most Australians I speak to tend to equate this country’s dominant religion as something dangerous. Weaned on 24 and other populist drivel, its not surprising that many Westerners see Indonesia as a threat, awash with fundamentalist jihadists ready to kill Zionists in the name of Allah.

Image on left:
Indonesian radicals in an undisclosed location plot attacks against Western interests. Mohammed Al Zaqhir Osama Al Quaida (6th on right) says their principal aim is to get caramel macchiato added to the office coffee machine.

This couldn’t be further from the truth. Sure, there are subtle reminders of Islam, particularly bunyi adzan (the call to prayer) wailing across the city five times a day and the occasional hijab (head scarf). But these don’t bely some underlying desire to destroy the West. Indonesians are much more concerned about unrequited love and vengeful ghosts, if the country’s burgeoning film industry is anything to go by.

Except during Ramadan. The fasting month of Ramadan is the most prominent event in the Muslim calendar. Leaving their Catholic contemporaries to shame, Muslims deny themselves food and water from dawn to sunset, breaking the fast (or buka puasa) after the fourth prayer of the day, maghrib. Families, work colleagues and friends get together to break the fast. The cities restaurants are crowded with large parties. Consequently, for a couple of hours each night the streets are relatively quiet.

Every Friday (the most important day of the week for Muslims), we break fast as a firm, feasting on dates, kolak (a coconut milk based sweet),chicken satay and other assorted affair (photos here). Muslims, Catholics, Protestants, a Buddhist and a Hindu - and not a jihadist among us.

dark-side

Sun, 30 Sep 2007 08:51:59 +0700

One of the reasons I originally started writing this blog was to deconstruct some of the myths and misconceptions I have encountered when talking to people about life in Indonesia. I wanted to show you the Indonesia I know: the relaxed, good-humoured people, smiling in the face of adversity.

So far all I have really written about is corruption and an insensitive government disconnected from its electorate. There’s nothing particularly Indonesian about that!

What happened? I got a bit distracted by all the news over the past two weeks. I haven’t had a chance to write about Ramadhan, preparing for Idul Fitri, the trials of buying a new car or my new experiences in “dispute resolution”. Next week, I hope, will mark a return from the dark side...

Guci-Tegal
Bathers enjoy the tepid mineral waters of Guci, in the mountains near Tegal. Although the mountain resort is dotted with spas and pools, most people choose to bathe in the river, made warm by the hot springs.

shark-hunt

Sat, 29 Sep 2007 09:00:00 +0700

The irony is delicious. Within days of the Supreme Court ordering Time magazine to pay US$106 million for damaging Suharto’s good name, the UN and World Bank named him as the world’s top corruptor and established the Stolen Asset Recovery (StAR) initiative to help the Indonesian Government to track down his assets.

Joel Hellman, the World Bank’s chief governance advisor for East Asia and the Pacific, confirms what most Indonesians (and Time magazine) already know: “billions of dollars” have been stolen.

hope [hohpe]
n. the feeling that things will turn out for the best; (v) to expect and desire; anticipation, belief, confidence, desire, faith, longing, optimism, promise, reverie; stock, utopia, wish.

The Attorney-General, Hendarman Supandji, has confirmed that he will “take action”. It will be interesting to see whether this translates into the Government accepting the World Bank/UN offer of assistance.

It could not be simpler: if the Government accepts, the StAR team will institute legal co-operation with those countries the World Bank/UN think (i.e. know) Suharto has assets stashed. The World Bank is notoriously good at hunting down well-hidden bank accounts and no doubt has the means to “encourage” the various banking institutions to co-operate.

It wouldn’t be the first time that efforts have been made to recover Suharto’s ill-gotten wealth. Within three months of the fall of Suharto, the new president, Habibie ordered an investigation into Suharto’s wealth. The Attorney-General discovered foundations, 72 bank accounts and 400,000 hectares of land holdings. But Habibie terminated the investigation. The reason he gave: no evidence. The case was re-opened (and abandoned) when Abdurrahman Wahid became president.

Nine years after Suharto walked out of the presidential palace, the Indonesian Government is yet to recover one cent. In that time, the Philippines have recovered money stolen by not one but two former presidents! Suharto remains the only (living) corruptor on the World Bank/UN top-ten list that is still untried.

To find out why, you need look no further than the current government, controlled by Suharto’s Golkar Party. Suharto could not have possibly pillaged Indonesia so effectively without help. Lift the lid on Suharto and there’s no knowing how many Golkar cockroaches will scurry out. It’s not surprising that Suharto is still sitting smug in his Menteng mansion.

But this time it’s different. All the Government has to do is say the word. StAR will do the rest. It’s that easy. Actually, the Government has no choice. It can hardly say no and maintain any integrity.

red shirt day

Fri, 28 Sep 2007 09:06:02 +0700

Late last night I received an SMS saying that on Friday people around the world would be wearing red shirts as a sign of solidarity with with people of Burma. I did as asked and forwarded the message to a few... well, quite a few people, including a couple of staff. Bugger it, I thought. It’s a bloody good cause and those Buddhist monks (not to mention Aung San Suu Kyi) could probably use a bit of moral support - even from some uppity kiwi-bloke.

Imagine my surprise the next morning as red shirt after red shirt wandered into the office. Forty-one smiling faces, all completely selfless in their support for their Burmese neighbours. Moments like these are so precious and remind me why I love this country so much.

Go here for more information...

hope [hohpe]
n. the feeling that things will turn out for the best; (v) to expect and desire; anticipation, belief, confidence, desire, faith, longing, optimism, promise, reverie; stock, utopia, wish.

poverty/crime

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 09:08:45 +0700

The Home Affairs Ministry is currently reviewing a bylaw recently endorsed by the Jakarta administration, which bans beggars from the city's streets. The Ministry is considering whether the bylaw contradicts a “higher law”, particularly, the Constitution or public interest.

If approved, the bylaw will make it an imprisonable offence to beg or give money to beggars. The Jakarta administration endorsed the bylaw in an effort to create a “tidier city”. Beggars, buskers and street vendors are regarded as a “disturbance to public order”.

At best, the bylaw demonstrates a complete disconnect between the city's administrators and those they were elected to protect. At worst... well, it doesn't get any worse than that.

I doubt that many of Jakarta's more fortunate residents would agree that the city needs to be “tidied” of beggars. Most would be horrified to think that giving money to the poor is a crime. By nature, Indonesians are generous. Giving money to beggars is part of daily life. The Koran requires it. It's in the national psyche.

Already the bylaw is having quite an impact – though it is not yet in force. There are notably fewer beggars and buskers at traffic lights. The two or three elderly women who wait at the intersection of Radio Dalam and Metro Pondok Indah are gone, replaced by teenage boys with banjos and little vocal skills. A widow interviewed by Jakarta Post said that her daily income had dropped from 30,000 rupiah (about US$3) to 18,000 (just under two dollars). By United Nations standards, she is now below the poverty line.

In addition to the prohibition against begging, the bylaw makes it an imprisonable offence to:

* trade on footpaths
* work as a busker or street peddler
* transport dusty or foul goods in an open vehicle
* operate or use an ojek (motor cycle taxi)
* ask for assistance or donations
* live on green strips, parks and in public places
* work as a sex worker
* work as a traditional medical practitioner or mystic

mother [məðər]
n. someone who exercises protecting care; “Like any mother, all I want for my children is to see them become great people who have decent jobs. I don’t want them to become like me.”

In many respects this is a direct attack on city residents. The thousands of kaki limas (food sellers) that wander the streets selling gado gado and bakso with dodgy meat-balls will all need permits. Tiny warung (restaurants), with their charcoal stoves, will disappear. Ojex (motor cycle taxis), a vital part of the city's transportation network, will be no more. All in the interests of creating a “tidier city”.

Jakarta will never be a “tidy city”. It's the buskers, food vendors, swarms of motor cycles and general chaos that makes this so much more than just another big polluted Asian city. I don't want a “tidier city”. I want to be able to buy chicken satay from the street outside my gate. I wonder how many Jakarta residents would choose a “tidier city” over their street food or the convenience of an ojek.

Which begs the question: if you take all this away, what will replace it? The ojex, kaki lima and warung exist because of demand. They are valid living parts of the city's infrastructure. If the city's administrators aren't happy, they need to provide alternatives.