“As far as Sneevliet goes,” I said, “it is better if the government just leaves him alone.”
Then I repeated to him what I had repeated many times over the last few years, namely, that there was no need yet to introduce laws against the freedom of association or the right to hold public meetings. It was true, I said, that the governor-general could also always use his Extraordinary Powers, but the situation was different today. Especially with the Netherlands still at war. Those Extraordinary Powers would be better put in reserve for situations that could not be handled in any other way.
“That’s not what I want to know, Mr. Pangemanann. Everybody understands that these days. And I would prefer that the governor-general not have to ask the question himself as to what action the government should take and what attitude it should display toward such a loyal organization as Boedi Oetomo.”
“Oh, so that’s it!” I cried, somewhat startled. And I was truly startled, because this would be the first time in the history of the colony that the government wanted to display a sympathetic attitude toward a Native organization.
“If that’s the case, then the government is about to start a new tradition in dealing with Native organizations. I have never seen any mention of such a possibility in any government documents.”
“Ah, but not all documents are available to be read, sir.”
He was right. There are many documents written to be read only once and then destroyed.
“It’s enough that I tell you,” he continued, “that the government does indeed consider the Boedi Oetomo to be the one and only loyal Native organization.”
“But the government has banned the priyayi from joining it in some regions.”
“That’s true. But those bans have been issued not because of the Boedi Oetomo itself but because in some regions the local leaderships have set out on their own independent path and have displeased the local authorities in the process.”
“Aha!” I cried. Now I knew for sure there were documents about Native affairs that I was not allowed to see. “Well, if you say that your words on this will have to be enough, very well. Let me get on with it.”
This additional task was not as easy to carry out as I thought it would be. I didn’t have very specific information about what the government was actually thinking and I had to work from supposition. There was always the danger that I might fall into a trap and make a mistake. And that would provide another opening for my possible demise. Neither could I really quote what my boss had told me verbally. It was not absolutely certain that he was telling the truth. It was always possible that he was setting a trap for me.
So I had to think over this question for quite a long time. I studied once more all the documentary material I had. In the end I had to admit that my boss was right. It was only then that I put pen to paper once more, indicating that the government did indeed need to make it clear that it was displeased by the attacks on the Boedi Oetomo, but without saying so in so many words. The Department of Education and Culture, which had been providing subsidies to BO schools all these years but never saying much, should approach the organization. These attacks had left the BO standing alone like a little child in the rice fields. No one was listening to its sobbing. And whoever approached it at this moment and showed it some sympathy would be looked upon as even more precious than its own mother. The time had now arrived when the government should make an approach to this little child.
The best step for the government to take would be for the Department of Education and Culture to summon the leadership of the BO to meet with the head of the department. I suggested also that the people chosen to be summoned should be those who were active as teachers, because at least it would be certain that they would be proficient in speaking Dutch and thus there would be greater certainty that neither party would end up disappointed or embarrassed by the meeting. If this meeting was satisfactory, it could be taken a step further and an audience granted with His Excellency the governor-general. The other qualification was that no press reports of these meetings be allowed to ensure that no new material was provided for another attack by Sneevliet.
Not more than two days later the Boedi Oetomo leadership was received by the director of education and culture at his house. Naturally I also attended. The meeting was held in the rear grounds of the house and took the form of tea in the gardens.
The guests showed themselves to be the most obedient and subservient of Javanese priyayi, all hanging on every word spoken by the director. They never initiated discussion on a single issue, always waiting, responding, and answering.
I could see that the director was slowly becoming bored with their attitude. The meeting could turn into a failure. I whispered something to him. Taking a lead from my whispered suggestion, he invited them to come forward with any questions they had or any suggestions as to how the government might be able to help the Boedi Oetomo with any of its difficulties.
It didn’t appear that they had prepared themselves for such a question. Just to get the invitation was so sensational that they were all off on cloud nine. As soon as the opportunity arose for them to come forward with questions or proposals, they were left not knowing what to do or say. Finally someone asked that positions be made available in the teachers’ colleges for graduates of the Boedi Oetomo schools. Another asked for guidance as to how the BO might start setting up its own high schools and its own teachers’ colleges. Still another asked if Boedi Oetomo teachers, most of whom were not trained teachers, could be provided with some additional training by the government.
The head of the Department of Education and Culture did not actually promise anything, because his guests had not really explained to him what their difficulties were. And neither side mentioned Sneevliet’s attacks, even though it was obvious that everyone was in no doubt that the meeting was taking place precisely because of the attacks, which could not be let pass without a response.
The departmental secretary noted down all the suggestions.
It was also obvious that the director himself was not used to mixing with Natives. He was still unable to hide his arrogance. Just at the moment he stood up from his chair to announce that the meeting was over, one of the BO leaders asked whether or not it was time for the government to increase the representation of the BO in the Regency Councils, where the local bupati also sat.
But the director had left his chair. The allotted time had ended. And he was wise enough not to deal with this issue, which was in fact in the jurisdiction of the director of the Department of Internal Affairs.
And so that was how I elevated the Boedi Oetomo to new heights of glory, where it could revel in its new prestige and its own performance, so that it would feel immune from Sneevliet’s attacks. And Meneer Director did not feel that the audience needed to be taken a step further, up to the governor-general.
One day after the meeting, my boss came in to see me very early in the morning. “You have won,” he said amicably, his body moving in all directions. “The governor-general has instructed that we invite them here. Could you make the necessary preparations so that things aren’t as awkward as yesterday?”
And so I began to make the necessary preparations. I summoned one of the Boedi Oetomo leaders to my office that very morning. He arrived wearing Javanese clothes and carrying his briefcase. He wasn’t so tall and was a bit fat.
As soon as he entered my office, he stood, bowed forward a little, and proceeded to announce in a style reminiscent of a school assembly speech: “Representative of Boedi Oetomo, Mas Sewoyo, here fulfilling the summons of the Algemeene Secretariat.” His Dutch was fluent and flawless. He had virtually eliminated his Javanese accent.
I went over to him and greeted him: “I am very pleased to meet Meneer General Secretary of the Boedi Oetomo. Please sit down, Meneer Sewoyo.”
He sat down on the chair and placed his briefcase on the floor. I picked it up and put it on the desk. I caught a glimpse of his slippers, which were of poor quality l
eather.
“I did not see Meneer Sewoyo at the audience with the director of education and culture yesterday,” I opened the agenda.
It turned out he was in Jogja when they received the invitation and was unable to get to Betawi in time.
“No doubt you were busy in Jogja discussing Sneevliet’s attacks, yes?”
“Well, you might say busy, but not really, Meneer, but, yes, perhaps, you could say we were a little busy.”
“And so what is Boedi Oetomo’s response?”
“We are not going to answer him with just empty words. We are going to answer him with deeds,” he replied as if speaking to a confidant.
“That’s no doubt the best way. What deeds, for example?”
“We are going to work even harder.”
“Quite right, Meneer Sewoyo. He’s just a yelping dog,” I said and watched his rather inscrutable face, which at the same time could speak so openly, as if to his own father.
Facing a colonial official like me, his answers revealed how backward he was as an organizer. He would never be able to defend himself if he ever had to face Sneevliet. His Dutch was excellent but his way of thinking was just as flawed as his ancestors’ had been. He seemed a sincere and honest person and no doubt it was those strengths that enabled him to work so tirelessly for his organization. There was obviously no personal gain in it for him.
“I’m sorry but I have forgotten, Meneer. What was your last position with the government? A school inspector or a teacher at a teachers’ college?”
“Forgive me, Meneer Pangemanann, I prefer to be thought of as a Boedi Oetomo man,” was his answer, which I thought was a rather boastful answer. “The work of looking after the younger generation of Javanese is what is most important to us.”
“Of course, Meneer. Who else will pioneer this work if not the Boedi Oetomo? Everybody who recognizes the backwardness of the Javanese will realize that they must follow your example. The Javanese people should be very happy to have such leaders as yourself, Meneer.”
“Ah, that’s far too high praise, Meneer.”
“It is a person’s right to receive justified praise, Meneer.”
“Thank you.”
I then told him that His Excellency the governor-general wished himself to meet the Boedi Oetomo leadership that evening at five o’clock. It was hoped that the discussion would not go over the same matters that were discussed the day before. It would be better if they could indicate what were BO’s most pressing concerns at the moment. And I also reminded him again that there must not be a single word about this leaked to the press.
He expressed his enormous gratitude that the government should concern itself this way with the Boedi Oetomo, and I then let him go home.
I escorted him outside the building, where once again he scraped and bowed in that traditional Javanese way that attempts to pay respect and give thanks at the same time.
I concluded from this meeting that Sewoyo was trying to convince everybody of Boedi Oetomo’s conviction that none of the leaders was involved out of concern for private gain. If the BO could make even a small contribution to the younger generation’s progress, then all the officials of the organization would feel happy and contented.
But if he had to debate Sneevliet, he would be challenged with the question: But in what direction are you taking the young generation? His Excellency the governor-general would not be like that. He would nod his head full of understanding and sympathy.
Sewoyo and his friends tried with all their might to speak on behalf of the organization. It was not as it was at the audience the day before. Meneer Director of Education and Culture also attended but did not say a single word. It was even possible he had been warned by the governor-general to try to be more affable. That evening the governor-general went out of his way to be friendly and polite and tried hard to tell various jokes that he had probably prepared beforehand. But he did not mention Sneevliet either.
Closing the audience, Governor-General Idenburg told them that he hoped that there would always be mutual understanding between Boedi Oetomo and the government and that this meeting would be a beginning of something that would benefit the people they represented. He hoped that this good beginning would be continued by those who followed in their footsteps.
Tomo, one of the most important founders of the Boedi Oetomo, and now a doctor in a Mission Hospital in Blora, was never mentioned in all these discussions. Neither were any other of the founders.
And after that audience Mas Sewoyo’s name rose to new heights in the colonial ferment, his name was on everybody’s lips. . . .
11
Governor-General Idenburg’s term of office ended. The rumors circulating that he would be appointed for a second term, like Governor-General Van Der Capellan, because of the world war, were contradicted by reality. He was going to be replaced.
And then his replacement arrived: Van Limburg Stirum.
The hand-over ceremony was a very simple affair in accordance with the general atmosphere of restraint and anxiety that prevailed in the colony, and reflecting too the special concerns of the government of the Netherlands Indies. Java was beginning to move. There was wave after wave of strikes. In every sector where goods and services were produced there were people who emerged to teach that human labor was the most important thing, not machines and not money either, and so human labor had to be recompensed in a fair and just manner. The strike waves were all demanding that wages be made fairer and more just. The government faced more and more problems as these actions resulted in a decline in the national income.
And Idenburg’s departure was not surrounded by the same festivities as in the past.
I was among those who accompanied him to the port. And I saw Meneer Sewoyo there too. He looked fresh, in his Javanese dress, moving adroitly among the bupatis and residents. Meneer Idenburg also looked fresh as he busily said good-bye and spoke with all those who had come to see him off.
When the ship’s whistle began to screech, people started to say their final farewells and leave the ship. Finally only the staff of the Algemeene Secretariat were left, including myself. He used this opportunity to thank us all for the help we had given him in maintaining law and order and he asked us to work even harder to help the new governor-general, His Excellency Van Limburg Stirum.
The ship departed.
And standing on the dock, I too, just like everyone else, waved good-bye, wishing him a safe journey. The family of the former governor-general stood at the ship’s rails and answered our waves with their own.
The ship dwindled more and more into the distance. The black clouds of smoke from its funnel thinned out to disintegrate into the Indies sky.
Idenburg had gone. And he had left behind in the Indies a new custom—holding audiences with Native organizations. Yes, he had wanted to leave behind a good impression, that he knew how to reward as well as how to punish. There had been punishment for Raden Mas Minke, Douwager, Wardi, and Doctor Tjipto, and there had been a reward for the Boedi Oetomo in the form of his willingness to receive them in audience for an informal chitchat.
But he also left behind new work for us, caused in fact by the teachings of Sneevliet and his friends and their new logic. The situation was not getting any simpler at all. New figures emerged and then disappeared. But there were also names that did not go away—Soerjopranoto, Djojopranoto, Sostrokardono, Sostrokartono, Goenawan, Gunadi, Soekandar, Soekendar. I could hardly tell one from the other—Soematri, Mantri, Soeman . . . no less than ninety names! All involved in their different activities. All making it very clear that they did not like the government. All with their own followers. It was only the servants of the State who had not yet been on strike.
Magazines appeared like mushrooms everywhere. In Solo, Semarang, and Jogja. There were more magazines appearing in those towns than in Surabaya, and even Betawi itself. They began appearing in the small towns too, except they weren’t printed but mimeographed. They were full of all sorts
of different ideas, clashing one with the other. Almost all of them, especially where they were magazines published in common Malay, reflected enormous confusion as they tried to amalgamate the European way of thinking with the traditional way. And as far as their attitude to the government was concerned, they more or less shared the same outlook—they were hostile.
And of course, it was none other than myself who had to rush hither and thither trying to follow all this. Sometimes a magazine would come out only once, then appear again in five or six months’ time, even though it declared itself to be a monthly or bimonthly. And most of them took no heed of the Museum Library’s call for them to deposit copies with it.
In nearly every magazine there were attacks on their rivals or replies to attacks. The amazing thing was that among all this debate and polemics I never found any clashes over religion. The main issue being fought over was the meaning of the homeland and livelihood. Some glorified the notion of the homeland. It was the homeland that brought into existence the nation of people who possessed it, and whose task it was to look after, develop, and defend it. The others said to hell with the homeland. Even if we were living at the South Pole, if it gave us our livelihood, then that was our homeland. Our homeland is nature itself. The arguments and polemics never stopped.
For the first time the questions of nationalism and internationalism entered into the Natives’ ideological world, even though they did not use those terms. And all of this was the echo of the conflicts taking place over there in Europe.
That’s how things were—and I remembered then Meneer L—’s lectures. Everything that is born here on Java is nothing but the echo of what happens on mainland Asia, and now Europe too, but without being based on real principles.
Perhaps I can use Meneer L—’s words as a guide for the time being. But perhaps too Sneevliet intended to teach people how to hold to principles. And Baars too was no longer confining himself to speaking in East Java but was roaming about Central Java too.