One of my earliest memory during my junior high school days was when our family - which includes my cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandfathers - were huddling together in front of a late ‘90s - early ‘00 model desktop computer, watching Pengkhianatan G30S/PKI (G30s/PKI Treachery), a film about an alleged coup in 1965 that resulted in the death of seven Army generals, which was instigated by what was then the third largest Communist Party in the world, the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI). I look with trepidation and disgust as the Army generals were gunned down in the sanctity of their own home, or dragged off into the secluded hiding place of Lubang Buaya (Crocodile Hole), where they were subjected into atrocious torture by members of the female wing of the PKI, Gerwani, who gouged out their eyeballs and dismembered their genitals with razor blades, before shooting them at point blank range and dancing over their disfigured bodies. My disdain was both strengthened and comforted by the stories of my grandfather and uncle, who reminisce over how every single one of those people who danced with glee over the dead bodies were killed in gruesome manners, which I saw as a just reply for a heinous crime.
My reading of The Rise of Communism in Indonesia, a book by scholar Ruth McVey’s, however, signifies my own thoughts’ transition on the subject of Communism in Indonesia, a near-taboo discourse point that has been solely framed through the lens of the attempted coup in 1965 and the subsequent massacre that followed. The hauteur that I openly showed to the alleged PKI members in the movie reflected the same aura of hatred and fear that the people of Indonesia has been showing over the past half a century to any particular representation that is somehow related to Communism, Socialism or specifically to PKI as an institution that represented the aforementioned ideologies. The benefits of an academic research, however, is that you are able to delve into a particular subject, scrutinize it to the detail, and present it as a bare truth to your audience, albeit it being an exclusive one. Nevertheless, this truth serves as a breath of fresh air from the fear that is being bred from a state-sanctioned ignorance that became not only a malignant reality, but also an antithetical reality to the desire for Indonesia to grow to become a mature nation. This fear, which has led to much anger and hate, with which have lend itself to the aching wound that still lingers among the victims of the 1965-66 massacre, has been and will continue to signifies that the goal that the communities of this country are desperately eager to achieve, is well beyond their grasp.
As with any academic publications, the devil is in the details, hence my decision to keep this work one star short of an acclaimed review. If you were to wonder whether it is a cheap shot of me for not having the capacity to differentiate the forest and the tree, you would be correct. Regardless of which, I saluted McVey for being able to reveal the genesis and headway of PKI that culminates in its temporary downfall through a poorly-organized and ire-induced revolt in November 1926. Going against the common “knowledge” that most Indonesians assume, the Indonesians who participated and joined PKI in its early days saw both the party and the ideology as a new vessel that could assist the Indonesian people in its struggle to break free of Dutch colonialism.
Nevertheless, it is not until Indonesian, as well as other delegates from Asia vehemently made their case in Moscow, would then the Communist International (Comintern) adopt their framework in pushing the spread of Communism in Asia. Considering that a majority of the people within Central and Southeast Asia adhere to the Islamic faith, the Comintern, and later PKI spared no efforts in shaping a bond between Islam and Communism. By focusing on the goals of social justice and the struggle to break free from the infidel (kufr/kafir) nature of the imperialist regimes, PKI managed to form a mutual bond with the largest centre-right national organization throughout Indonesia at the time, Sarekat Islam (SI). Eventually, however, the various factors of bickering ideological battles between PKI and SI, Dutch colonial government’s restriction and eventual disbanding of the party, impatience over the struggle to obtain independence through consolidating various labor unions and disagreements over the purpose of PKI between Batavia and Moscow finally culminated in the November 1926 revolt.
In the end, McVey portrayed an organization which was founded with the same purpose as that of other similar organizations during the 1910s-1920s eras, which was to strive for a national independence from the Netherlands. It is, however, the miscalculations over the compatibility of Communism as an ideology with the traditional beliefs among the various segments of Indonesian society that lead to the disagreements over where to bring PKI forward within the strive for independence, which, as McVey puts it, gave way to the “secular nationalists, who….striv[e] for an Indonesian nation-state, rather than in the internationalist framework of Islam or Communism or in the political and cultural particularlism of the regional movements.”
Knowing that academic works are not exactly everyone’s cup of tea, this book still managed to give an in-depth insight on a part of Indonesian history that is all-too often misrepresented from the movies in the cinema all the way to the textbooks in public and private schools. A national unity for a common goal is a noble idea for a state to be striving for, but with the ongoing quasi-authoritarian measures that the government has put in place (Bela Negara program, cultural censorship, etc.), the question that the Indonesians have to ask now is: At what cost is the country willing to pay for the sake of this character and purpose?
I only wish that an Indonesian had been the one writing this book.