My favorite bits and pieces from the last couple of days
Snakes and Adders
The clearing of the 50+ hectare Rasuna Epicentrum lands smack in the centre of Jakarta and opposite the Grinch’s temporary lair claimed the life of a seven-meter-long reticulated python, crushed by a back-hoe on Saturday morning: as if I needed another reason to hate Aburizal Bakrie and his band of reptiles.
Save Me From Myself
A judge in Sulawesi fired because he was caught in a polygamist relationship (formally prohibited behavior for civil servants but tolerated, nudge-nudge, wink-wink claims he only married the other three women to prevent himself from committing adultery (ed: presumably with them...).
Top Cop Cock Block
Indonesian National Police and armed forces announced last week they will no longer accept Papuan recruits who have tried to increase to the size of their tackle through bindings and the use of mildly poisonous plants to encourage swelling on account of it affecting their readiness to fight.
Idiocy in Paradise
Much harrumphing in Bali after the release on youtube of teasers for a film that focuses on the Kuta Cowboy phenomena of young Indonesian surfer types servicing older foreign female tourists. Bali’s bandar “traditionalists” (ed: goons in checker-board sarongs and silly hats) are publicly outraged to discover that a small group of beach boys are providing the same types of services as the thousands of juvenile female sex workers trolling their wares on the Island of the Gods.
Gov Made Pastika – the much admired former police general – applauded the beach raids conducted this week which saw two dozen ‘muscular, tanned men’ detained and questioned.
The Company You Keep
The Justice and Human Rights Minister toured the country’s new bespoke prison wing for corruption suspects on Tuesday accompanied by….one of the country’s most loathed corruption suspects.
Roaring Mice
Gayus, a nobody in the tax office who has emerged at the centre of a poisonous new scandal after it was revealed he amassed over $3 million in kickbacks in a few short years is singing to investigators, implicating his former bosses, local prosecutors and senior officials at the AG’s offices, several judges and national-level police generals in a broader “judicial mafia” conspiracy that is too Byzantine to explain in brief. No one disputes that Gayus is a very small fish in the grand scheme of things, but what’ll be interesting to see is how he is remade into a national hero.
Ango-Indo Conspiracy Poisoned Local Kids: And a Nation Yawns….
The UK arm of an American company, Innospec Ltd, that manufactures fuel additives was fined $12.5 millions in a London court for bribing Indonesian officials $8.7 million to delay implementation of the government’s order to convert from leaded- to non-leaded gasoline for several years. Does anyone believe the American and British business communities in Jakarta were unaware that this was going on? Where’s the embassy demos, the outrage?
What’s His Name’s Disease, Contagious
Hard on the heels of news that a central figure in the $2.6 million Bank Indonesia vote-buying scandal is unable to comply with multiple subpoenas to appear before the KPK because she is undergoing therapy for ‘memory loss’ in Singapore, a crooked Bupati from Kalimantan has suddenly developed similar symptoms…. and was immediately released from prison.
Taliban-Lite Tangled Up in Blues
The forgetful corrupter (previous item) in Singapore, Nunun, is married to former deputy national police chief Adang Daradjatun who is a Prosperous Justice Party (PKS) legislator. It is hard to believe that such a conservative and pious (uhhh.. ya) man would be unaware that his wife is running around handing out millions of dollars in travelers cheques to crooked politicians so I for one am looking forward to his detention.
Better news came early this week with the detention of PKS legislator Mukhamad Misbakhun accused of forging a letter of credit to secure a $21.4 million bank loan that he subsequently defaulted on. The juice is in the fact that he borrowed from the collapsed Bank Century and was one of the prime movers behind the House’s investigation into the bank’s failure, a thinly disguised smear job directed at the current finance minister, Sri Mulyani.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
Papa’s Rollin’ Stone Gathers No Political Joss
One of the weirder recent newsy bits that slipped beneath the radar was the midnight relocation last week of the gravestone of Indonesia’s first president Soekarno and what it says about the declining political fortunes of his puddin’ daughter.
Jakarta Post gave it a couple of inches. I’ve not found any other references in the Indonesian media or blogosphere tho I’m sure there’s more out there.
Story goes that the two-ton slab of rock – which looks like a meteor but I can’t confirm - marking his grave in Blitar, East Java, was pushed one meter to the north by a posse armed with permits, shovels and four 5-ton jacks. Word is the move was executed at daughter Megawati (Mega) Sukarnoputri’s orders, supervised by her son and witnessed by a member of her political party PDI-P (Indonesia Democratic Party of Struggle).
Before I suggest the likely motive behind the rolling stone, one admission: I reckon there’s a special place in hell reserved for people like Mega. The fact she has never bothered to reach out to the families of the party activists murdered by security forces in front of her Jakarta office in 1996 – “I never asked them to support me…” – tells you everything you need to know about her character. I also watched her physically jerk away from terrified Madurese during her six-minute visit to the camps where they were living during the worst of the Kalimantan/Sampit headhunter riots. Only weeks of retail therapy in Singapore allowed her to recover from the trauma of a poor, ‘unclean’ person having the gall to actually make contact with her. She’s a sham, a parody of the courageous woman who stood up to Suharto in the 90s.
There is little doubt that Mega’s orders regarding Daddy’s tombstone were inspired by her regular consultations with her spiritual advisors and astrologers who likely suggested the slab’s positioning as lacking the necessary JavaVoodoo-meets-Feng Sui to cement her political fortunes. As for why it was done at this specific moment in time, I’ll posit the following.
PDI-P are in crisis as they enter their three-day national congress in Bali this week. What was once the populist choice of the people, whose tides of supporters turned the streets of the country’s major cities the party’s red-and-black back in the day, is a national disgrace. Under Mega’s stewardship – including a desultory three-year as president – PDI-P has imploded. Gone are any vestiges of the neo-people’s power vibe it carried through Suharto’s decline and disgrace, pimped off by the party brass to a new old guard of powerful businessmen lead by her husband, Taufik Kemas.
Despite Mega Inc.’s efforts to cement the family fortunes by pushing forth her daughter as the logical next leader, this is a ‘dynasty’ in collapse.
Observers expect Mega to be re-elected party chairman but it is clear to all but the most brainwashed of supporters that her aura is greatly diminished. PDI-P has been pummeled in the past two national elections, watching its share of the popular vote plunge from 34% in 1999, to 20% in 2004 and 14% in 2009. Mega was soundly beaten (60/40) in the run-off presidential elections in 2004. Her personal popularity was further tested last year when incumbent President Waffle took almost two-thirds of the ballots cast to Mega’s 28%, obviating the need for the presidential run-off.
At the provincial level, PDI-P saw its locked-up East Java gubernatorial race (pop 40 million) stolen through a combination of ballot-stuffing and graft and their power greatly diminished in other regional and local elections.
Various members of the clan – don’t even get me started on the bed-hopping in this family - have defected to other parties, and/or challenge her for the leadership of a party she claims as a birthright. More importantly, dozens of current and former national legislators have found themselves caught up in recent scandals, ranging from the auctioning off of the deputy governorship of the national bank to the collapse of Bank Century.
The party will not toss off Mega this week and tack back towards a serious challenge to the Democrats and a successor to President Waffle (TBA at a later date). With the dynasty as stake, she’ll need all the mojo she can muster to position the 3rd generation of the family as the ‘natural’ choice for the future of PDI-P, and thus the reason for last weeks’ dead-of-night kejawen moment in rural East Java.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Poop, Boob-radar and Furry Babies: Pearls of Wisdom From a New Dad (Part I)
This is the day the Grinchlettes were scheduled to arrive. Clever buggers, they decided to roll up in the middle of Letterman seven weeks early. Here’s what I’ve gleaned about the process and child-rearing thus far:
* Babies don’t totally suck (though I’m still unclear as to their actual function).
* Childbirth is not as gory as you might think, though the furry black pelt covering their bodies is a bit of a surprise (even for a Grinch).
* Cesarean deliveries are the new “normal”. The missus’ unassisted ‘natural’ delivery of was met with shock and awe.
* Telling a new mum whose 30-hour labor ended in a C-Section that that you delivered twins naturally three hours after your first contraction is an unnecessary infliction of psychic pain.
* Five weeks in an incubator does not guarantee your pre-term newborn healthy skin color. Consuming your own body weight every 72 hours on the other hand…
* In a corollary to “Every Sperm is Sacred”, there exists an astonishing variety of different types, consistencies, hues and densities of poop, and each is fascinating in its own special way.
* Diaper technology has come a long way in the 30 years since I last tried to wrap a worming infant.
* We Grinch seem to have a built-in mechanism to prevent us from rolling over and crushing our spawn while we sleep.
* The first thing grinchlette will grab in his/her greedy little fists is chest fur, followed by the goatee (and later, glasses).
* Most girl children eventually lose the hardwired “boob-dar” that allows them to track the location, vector, speed and size of breasts with an accuracy that is the envy of NASA. Boys refine it over a lifetime and bring it to the grave.
* Rookie parents who wish to entertain friends with toddlers and young children should tell ‘em all about their “plans for the feeding schedule…”
* Movies featuring zombies, vampires and murderous angels are all popular with the after-midnight nursing set. The same cannot be said for CSI, further proof that one does not need a fully functioning frontal lobe to wish “actor” David Caruso ill.
* People you do not know will tell you what is best for your child. Other new parents will applaud the judicious use of Tasers, mace and 2x4s in such circumstances.
* The selection of suitable strollers is (or ought to be) a ‘guy thing’.
* A 2G memory card is not enough space to contain a week’s worth of photos of your spawn.
* Having twins means there will always be a squabble about who gets to wear the “I’m With Stoopid” t-shirt.
* Despite their many obvious flaws, females kinda rock.
* Babies don’t totally suck (though I’m still unclear as to their actual function).
* Childbirth is not as gory as you might think, though the furry black pelt covering their bodies is a bit of a surprise (even for a Grinch).
* Cesarean deliveries are the new “normal”. The missus’ unassisted ‘natural’ delivery of was met with shock and awe.
* Telling a new mum whose 30-hour labor ended in a C-Section that that you delivered twins naturally three hours after your first contraction is an unnecessary infliction of psychic pain.
* Five weeks in an incubator does not guarantee your pre-term newborn healthy skin color. Consuming your own body weight every 72 hours on the other hand…
* In a corollary to “Every Sperm is Sacred”, there exists an astonishing variety of different types, consistencies, hues and densities of poop, and each is fascinating in its own special way.
* Diaper technology has come a long way in the 30 years since I last tried to wrap a worming infant.
* We Grinch seem to have a built-in mechanism to prevent us from rolling over and crushing our spawn while we sleep.
* The first thing grinchlette will grab in his/her greedy little fists is chest fur, followed by the goatee (and later, glasses).
* Most girl children eventually lose the hardwired “boob-dar” that allows them to track the location, vector, speed and size of breasts with an accuracy that is the envy of NASA. Boys refine it over a lifetime and bring it to the grave.
* Rookie parents who wish to entertain friends with toddlers and young children should tell ‘em all about their “plans for the feeding schedule…”
* Movies featuring zombies, vampires and murderous angels are all popular with the after-midnight nursing set. The same cannot be said for CSI, further proof that one does not need a fully functioning frontal lobe to wish “actor” David Caruso ill.
* People you do not know will tell you what is best for your child. Other new parents will applaud the judicious use of Tasers, mace and 2x4s in such circumstances.
* The selection of suitable strollers is (or ought to be) a ‘guy thing’.
* A 2G memory card is not enough space to contain a week’s worth of photos of your spawn.
* Having twins means there will always be a squabble about who gets to wear the “I’m With Stoopid” t-shirt.
* Despite their many obvious flaws, females kinda rock.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Trouble with Tigers, the MinTwit strikes again, and a $50,000 Booty Bounty
News Item 1:
Minister proposes giving endangered Sumatran tigers to “rich people” as a conservation measure.
News Item 2:
SBY bitch-slaps (Javanese style) proto-Taliban MinTwit for proposed Internet control measures
News Item 3: Religious Affairs pimps want $50,000 down payment for RI brides
A couple of days after the vice-president declared Jan 22 the national day for wildlife conservation, the Ministry of Deforestation floated the idea of ‘renting’ critically endangered Sumatran tigers to rich folk as a serious governmental conservation effort.
For a mere one billion Rupiah ($110,000), and with the understanding that there’s ample space and food, well-heeled Indonesians will be allowed to ‘adopt’ a tiger of their very own, (though it would remain the ‘property’ of the state).
The deforestation ministry’s chief of nature conservation was widely quoted saying “There is much demand from rich people who want them, who feel that if they own a tiger they are big shots. We have to take concrete steps to protect these animals.”
Stroke of genius: get rid of all those pesky carnivores so we can pave Sumatra with oil plantations! Presumably they’ll come up with some brilliant new idea to deal with the populations of Sumatran elephants, rhinos and orangutan once the loggers manage to buy their way into the Leuser ecosystem for real.
In an effort to control the ensuring shitstorm of protest from the NGO set that obviously doesn’t care about tigers – there’s something like 400-500 of them left – and don’t understand their needs and aspirations (ya know, WWF, Greenpeace etc), the loggers, (oops, I mean ministerial tree huggers) busted a couple of Jakarta suits operating their own personal conservatories. A total of three adult tigers and six yoots were seized in two raids, along with all manner of endangered birds, mammals and, it is rumored, Gary Coleman.
I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say our favorite kneecapper Tommy W is behind this. TW crept out of his lair long enough recently to bankroll the release of two tigers in Lampung. If you’ve seen his house, or those of his henchmen (darn, I mean, business associates) y’know he’s gonna have a full on chubby for his personal collection of tigers, hawks and komodo dragons. Further research will be required on this one…
President Waffle took time out of his busy schedule having knives removed from his back to publicly roasted Minister of Twits Tifatul Sembiring this week for the colossal clusterfuck that is his ministry.
The issue this time ‘round was the recently released draft of a bill from the Communication and Info Tech ministry that will create an internet death panel empowered to order service provides to prohibit access to websites it deems offensive. It will also require internet providers to monitor all content, and hold them legally responsible should “offensive” or “illegal” material arrive on the desktops of impressionable Indonesian citizens.
MinTwit was swanning about Europe when the draft was released. Rather than wait for him to return to take his punishment like a man, SBY, in true Javanese fashion, noted that ministers really ought to submit draft bills to the palace before floating them to the public. He mentioned no names….
“I hope ministers do not come up with too-early statements… that could create the wrong perception in the public,” the prez was quoted as saying. “I want to remind all cabinet members that if there are thoughts or intentions to prepare a government regulation or bills, [you are] obliged to report it to the president through the cabinet secretary or state secretary”.
For those unfamiliar with the niceties of Javanese diplomacy, that was a public bitch-slap.
While MinTwit Sembiring was not personally responsible for this idiotic idea (step right this way, Sofyan Djalil!) it dovetails nicely with the Taliban-Lite world views he espoused as head of the PKS: after all, you should be in the mosque, not pulling your pud watching Cinta Laura videos on YouTube.
This is the latest half-baked idea to emerge from MinTwit’s entourage (see past posts ad nauseum), that included: his personal intervention several months back to sever internet access for all First Media subscribers in Indonesia, blaming earthquake/tsunamis on immoral behavior, and efforts to geld the country’s anti-corruption ninjas by requiring they submit wire tap requests for judicial review.
Indonesia has not been blessed with particularly wise or thoughtful religious affairs ministers over the past decade, and the new guy, Suryadharma Ali, seems intent on further lowering bar.
The latest offering, contained a draft marriage bill, is the proposal that would require foreign men to deposit Rp 500,000,000 ($55,000) in a Sharia bank account if they intend to marry an Indonesian woman. The intent of the down payment contained in Article 142 appears to be to prevent horny Arabs with a taste for unregistered temporary Islamic marriages (known as nika sirih) from leaving their local lady destitute when he decides to swap her for a younger model, (or reverts to type and shacks up with some doe-eyed four-legged beauty).
The bill contains several other ill-conceived ideas to address nika sirih that the ministry’s DG for Islamic guidance expects to present to the Cabinet secretary. Amidst all the howls of protest, the analysis from the NU’s women’s organization resonated loudest in my mind. Besides sounding like the ministry is pimping out the nation’s treasures, they asked, ‘who decided we are only worth Rp. 500 million?”
Brilliant!
Unmentioned in the bill is that these booty bounty provisions will only apply to Muslims marrying Muslims, so presumably kafir are more reliable in these matters.
Observers will recall that Indonesia’s past religious Kahunas include Indiana Jones wannabe Said Agil Al Munawar, who responded to a vision from his personal dukun, by attempting to excavate a grave in the dead of night in search of billions of dollars worth of Sukarno’s gold, and was subsequently sentenced to five-years in jail for fraud. He, as others before and since have sold their souls for Saudi dollars (funding construction of their swish new headquarters by some accounts) while enriching themselves, their staff and their political parties at the expense of true believers by jacking the costs of state-organized Haj pilgrimages.
Minister proposes giving endangered Sumatran tigers to “rich people” as a conservation measure.
News Item 2:
SBY bitch-slaps (Javanese style) proto-Taliban MinTwit for proposed Internet control measures
News Item 3: Religious Affairs pimps want $50,000 down payment for RI brides
A couple of days after the vice-president declared Jan 22 the national day for wildlife conservation, the Ministry of Deforestation floated the idea of ‘renting’ critically endangered Sumatran tigers to rich folk as a serious governmental conservation effort.
For a mere one billion Rupiah ($110,000), and with the understanding that there’s ample space and food, well-heeled Indonesians will be allowed to ‘adopt’ a tiger of their very own, (though it would remain the ‘property’ of the state).
The deforestation ministry’s chief of nature conservation was widely quoted saying “There is much demand from rich people who want them, who feel that if they own a tiger they are big shots. We have to take concrete steps to protect these animals.”
Stroke of genius: get rid of all those pesky carnivores so we can pave Sumatra with oil plantations! Presumably they’ll come up with some brilliant new idea to deal with the populations of Sumatran elephants, rhinos and orangutan once the loggers manage to buy their way into the Leuser ecosystem for real.
In an effort to control the ensuring shitstorm of protest from the NGO set that obviously doesn’t care about tigers – there’s something like 400-500 of them left – and don’t understand their needs and aspirations (ya know, WWF, Greenpeace etc), the loggers, (oops, I mean ministerial tree huggers) busted a couple of Jakarta suits operating their own personal conservatories. A total of three adult tigers and six yoots were seized in two raids, along with all manner of endangered birds, mammals and, it is rumored, Gary Coleman.
I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say our favorite kneecapper Tommy W is behind this. TW crept out of his lair long enough recently to bankroll the release of two tigers in Lampung. If you’ve seen his house, or those of his henchmen (darn, I mean, business associates) y’know he’s gonna have a full on chubby for his personal collection of tigers, hawks and komodo dragons. Further research will be required on this one…
President Waffle took time out of his busy schedule having knives removed from his back to publicly roasted Minister of Twits Tifatul Sembiring this week for the colossal clusterfuck that is his ministry.
The issue this time ‘round was the recently released draft of a bill from the Communication and Info Tech ministry that will create an internet death panel empowered to order service provides to prohibit access to websites it deems offensive. It will also require internet providers to monitor all content, and hold them legally responsible should “offensive” or “illegal” material arrive on the desktops of impressionable Indonesian citizens.
MinTwit was swanning about Europe when the draft was released. Rather than wait for him to return to take his punishment like a man, SBY, in true Javanese fashion, noted that ministers really ought to submit draft bills to the palace before floating them to the public. He mentioned no names….
“I hope ministers do not come up with too-early statements… that could create the wrong perception in the public,” the prez was quoted as saying. “I want to remind all cabinet members that if there are thoughts or intentions to prepare a government regulation or bills, [you are] obliged to report it to the president through the cabinet secretary or state secretary”.
For those unfamiliar with the niceties of Javanese diplomacy, that was a public bitch-slap.
While MinTwit Sembiring was not personally responsible for this idiotic idea (step right this way, Sofyan Djalil!) it dovetails nicely with the Taliban-Lite world views he espoused as head of the PKS: after all, you should be in the mosque, not pulling your pud watching Cinta Laura videos on YouTube.
This is the latest half-baked idea to emerge from MinTwit’s entourage (see past posts ad nauseum), that included: his personal intervention several months back to sever internet access for all First Media subscribers in Indonesia, blaming earthquake/tsunamis on immoral behavior, and efforts to geld the country’s anti-corruption ninjas by requiring they submit wire tap requests for judicial review.
Indonesia has not been blessed with particularly wise or thoughtful religious affairs ministers over the past decade, and the new guy, Suryadharma Ali, seems intent on further lowering bar.
The latest offering, contained a draft marriage bill, is the proposal that would require foreign men to deposit Rp 500,000,000 ($55,000) in a Sharia bank account if they intend to marry an Indonesian woman. The intent of the down payment contained in Article 142 appears to be to prevent horny Arabs with a taste for unregistered temporary Islamic marriages (known as nika sirih) from leaving their local lady destitute when he decides to swap her for a younger model, (or reverts to type and shacks up with some doe-eyed four-legged beauty).
The bill contains several other ill-conceived ideas to address nika sirih that the ministry’s DG for Islamic guidance expects to present to the Cabinet secretary. Amidst all the howls of protest, the analysis from the NU’s women’s organization resonated loudest in my mind. Besides sounding like the ministry is pimping out the nation’s treasures, they asked, ‘who decided we are only worth Rp. 500 million?”
Brilliant!
Unmentioned in the bill is that these booty bounty provisions will only apply to Muslims marrying Muslims, so presumably kafir are more reliable in these matters.
Observers will recall that Indonesia’s past religious Kahunas include Indiana Jones wannabe Said Agil Al Munawar, who responded to a vision from his personal dukun, by attempting to excavate a grave in the dead of night in search of billions of dollars worth of Sukarno’s gold, and was subsequently sentenced to five-years in jail for fraud. He, as others before and since have sold their souls for Saudi dollars (funding construction of their swish new headquarters by some accounts) while enriching themselves, their staff and their political parties at the expense of true believers by jacking the costs of state-organized Haj pilgrimages.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Enough Demo(cracy): Time to Split Some Heads
Jakartans are daily witnessing the application of the old adage about too much democracy being a bad thing.
At the risk of lining up behind Mahathir Mohammed and Lee Kuan Yew whose distain for the practical application of democratic principles is eloquent and well documented, I long for the days when a phalanx of club-wielding Brimob stormtroopers could be relied up to clear rabble from the streets of the capitol.
Alas, with the very rare exception, the days of the legitimate act of mass demonstration or the use of street power to effect change in Indonesia are past. The last true manifestation of this was the elections of 1999 when the main thoroughfares of the country’s population centers vanished beneath a sea of red and black t-shirted supporters of HRH Megawati Sukarnoputri.
Beyond the on-going reformation of modern day Indonesia, there were two street-level consequences of these demos.
The first is that the security forces were forced to step back from the traditional iron fist/smoking barrel approach to crowd control. The clearest manifestation has been in police response to demonstrations in Jakarta. Lead-cored batons, shields and tear gas have been replaced by rows of unarmed shovel-faced female cops (PolWan) in fuchsia lipstick linking arms in front of the rows of the riot cops. It defuses the situation remarkably well, though whether it’s because the mob fears these PolWan as much as I do (gimme a fat cracker Javanese cop anyday), or the humor value, is a mystery to me.
The second consequence is that the shadowy forces that bankrolled and coordinated the demonstrations the ultimately forced Suharto to resign in 1998 – imagine the logistics of supplying food, drink, transportation and cigarettes to 250,000 people on the streets of the capitol for days on end – learned they could affect change by harnessing street power. Many individuals were beaten; some died. But the political calculus of the day declared this an acceptable butcher’s bill.
No longer fearing the cops and intelligence agencies, the nation’s business and political elite have been allowed to refine the use of paid demonstrations to push narrow partisan political causes. Demonstrations now are purely cynical affairs. Powerful people pay for organizers to disgorge the ignorant poor from buses in front of the target of the day. Lead by bullhorns and carrying banners they can’t read, they regularly bring the city to a standstill for the equivalent of $2/head and a boxed lunch.
So in-grained is this demo-in-a-box approach that when Aceh-born media magnate Surya Paloh and the poor, deluded, Sultan of Yogya decided they were going to launch a ‘mass organization’ last month they put 25,000 paid butts in the seats of Bung Karno stadium to provide the applause.
As much as it galls me to admit, the rare exception to the current rule comes from fundamentalist elements of Islamic society who have rallied their members to the street around a specific issue. Through 2008 and 2009, thousands of white-clad wannabes in Taliban short-pants and scraggly beards aligned with the vile Indonesian arm of Hizbut Tahrir, joined the gangster bagmen-turned-preachers of the Islamic Defenders Front (FPI) and other hateful, church-and mosque burning constituencies associated with the Indonesian Ulema’s Council in well choreographed shows of force before the presidential palace to demand the clocks be turned back the 6th century.
You may not like it, and their access should be restricted to minimize the impact on city residents, but at least they come with a set of principles, racist, misogynist and violent as they may be. Nothing illegal in having an opinion. If they break the law, then the police should drive those Droogies into the pavement. Otherwise let ‘em holler and “allahuakbar” at an indifferent population and empty buildinga till the cows come home.
More typical are the bogus demonstrations that have been going on in front of the KPK offices for the past six weeks. Like tens of thousands of others, I’ve suffered through the interminable traffic delays caused when 45 gormless kampung nut-scratchers in masks bring eight lanes of traffic to a halt for hours at a time. They’ve no idea why they’re there except that something called “Bank Century” is “corrupt” and some woman (a politically naïve finance minister who dares to stare down powerful business interests) is “Satan”.
Well, enough is enough. It is time for Jakarta Governor Fuzzy Bobo to take off the gloves, crush these cockroaches, publicly name and prosecute the organizers, and demand they remunerate everyone inconvenienced by their actions. He can start by rejecting any application for a demonstration permit with the slightest hint of being a paid-for event. Civil society has already attacked him for suggesting changes to the current free-for-all, blathering on about “freedom of expression” and “human rights” etc. Bull. Democracy and human rights do not trump the rights of tens of thousands of commuters, office workers and ordinary folks who just wanna get to work on time or home at the end of a long day. This is street theatre, not 'democracy', and should be confined to the stage (or as Bobo suggested, the park surrounding the National Monument, Monas).
Meantime, ladies, wipe off the lipstick, pick up a truncheon and start beating out a path.
Postscript:
On March 4, the Jakarta Globe published the following story about rent-a-demo:
http://www.thejakartaglobe.com/national/jakarta-protesters-unite-show-us-the-money-and-food/361715
At the risk of lining up behind Mahathir Mohammed and Lee Kuan Yew whose distain for the practical application of democratic principles is eloquent and well documented, I long for the days when a phalanx of club-wielding Brimob stormtroopers could be relied up to clear rabble from the streets of the capitol.
Alas, with the very rare exception, the days of the legitimate act of mass demonstration or the use of street power to effect change in Indonesia are past. The last true manifestation of this was the elections of 1999 when the main thoroughfares of the country’s population centers vanished beneath a sea of red and black t-shirted supporters of HRH Megawati Sukarnoputri.
Beyond the on-going reformation of modern day Indonesia, there were two street-level consequences of these demos.
The first is that the security forces were forced to step back from the traditional iron fist/smoking barrel approach to crowd control. The clearest manifestation has been in police response to demonstrations in Jakarta. Lead-cored batons, shields and tear gas have been replaced by rows of unarmed shovel-faced female cops (PolWan) in fuchsia lipstick linking arms in front of the rows of the riot cops. It defuses the situation remarkably well, though whether it’s because the mob fears these PolWan as much as I do (gimme a fat cracker Javanese cop anyday), or the humor value, is a mystery to me.
The second consequence is that the shadowy forces that bankrolled and coordinated the demonstrations the ultimately forced Suharto to resign in 1998 – imagine the logistics of supplying food, drink, transportation and cigarettes to 250,000 people on the streets of the capitol for days on end – learned they could affect change by harnessing street power. Many individuals were beaten; some died. But the political calculus of the day declared this an acceptable butcher’s bill.
No longer fearing the cops and intelligence agencies, the nation’s business and political elite have been allowed to refine the use of paid demonstrations to push narrow partisan political causes. Demonstrations now are purely cynical affairs. Powerful people pay for organizers to disgorge the ignorant poor from buses in front of the target of the day. Lead by bullhorns and carrying banners they can’t read, they regularly bring the city to a standstill for the equivalent of $2/head and a boxed lunch.
So in-grained is this demo-in-a-box approach that when Aceh-born media magnate Surya Paloh and the poor, deluded, Sultan of Yogya decided they were going to launch a ‘mass organization’ last month they put 25,000 paid butts in the seats of Bung Karno stadium to provide the applause.
As much as it galls me to admit, the rare exception to the current rule comes from fundamentalist elements of Islamic society who have rallied their members to the street around a specific issue. Through 2008 and 2009, thousands of white-clad wannabes in Taliban short-pants and scraggly beards aligned with the vile Indonesian arm of Hizbut Tahrir, joined the gangster bagmen-turned-preachers of the Islamic Defenders Front (FPI) and other hateful, church-and mosque burning constituencies associated with the Indonesian Ulema’s Council in well choreographed shows of force before the presidential palace to demand the clocks be turned back the 6th century.
You may not like it, and their access should be restricted to minimize the impact on city residents, but at least they come with a set of principles, racist, misogynist and violent as they may be. Nothing illegal in having an opinion. If they break the law, then the police should drive those Droogies into the pavement. Otherwise let ‘em holler and “allahuakbar” at an indifferent population and empty buildinga till the cows come home.
More typical are the bogus demonstrations that have been going on in front of the KPK offices for the past six weeks. Like tens of thousands of others, I’ve suffered through the interminable traffic delays caused when 45 gormless kampung nut-scratchers in masks bring eight lanes of traffic to a halt for hours at a time. They’ve no idea why they’re there except that something called “Bank Century” is “corrupt” and some woman (a politically naïve finance minister who dares to stare down powerful business interests) is “Satan”.
Well, enough is enough. It is time for Jakarta Governor Fuzzy Bobo to take off the gloves, crush these cockroaches, publicly name and prosecute the organizers, and demand they remunerate everyone inconvenienced by their actions. He can start by rejecting any application for a demonstration permit with the slightest hint of being a paid-for event. Civil society has already attacked him for suggesting changes to the current free-for-all, blathering on about “freedom of expression” and “human rights” etc. Bull. Democracy and human rights do not trump the rights of tens of thousands of commuters, office workers and ordinary folks who just wanna get to work on time or home at the end of a long day. This is street theatre, not 'democracy', and should be confined to the stage (or as Bobo suggested, the park surrounding the National Monument, Monas).
Meantime, ladies, wipe off the lipstick, pick up a truncheon and start beating out a path.
Postscript:
On March 4, the Jakarta Globe published the following story about rent-a-demo:
http://www.thejakartaglobe.com/national/jakarta-protesters-unite-show-us-the-money-and-food/361715
Monday, February 01, 2010
Garuda Pancasila, Armani Love Child Horror
Much whingeing and harrumphing this week when some bright bulb got it into his head that Armani, yes that Armani, was pissing on the glorious Republic of Indonesia because one of their t-shirts bears a logo passing similar to the Garuda/eagle icon that serves as the coat of arms attached to the declaration of national principles known as Pancasila (itself a subject for another day).
Leading national daily Kompas directed the government to sue, the now ubiquitous Facebook site petition was created and rather telling the mob of drooling nationalist slap-heads to get a life, Justice Minister Patrialis Akbar waded in claiming possible copyright infringements.
Which is a funny thing for the top lawman to say because if anyone is cruising for a legal bruising it would seem to be the artists that created Indonesia's coat of arms in the first place.
Why they didn’t settle on an image of Vishu’s kick-ass winged chimera in the first place is a bit of a mystery. Instead, the official story is that the Pancasila image was inspired by the Javan hawk, one of the rarest birds on earth according to the Malaysia-based TRAFFIC, a wildlife group that monitors the trade in wild plants and animals. As far as I can tell, the RI Garuda resembles that noble raptor about as much as my hairy green behind. But if one were to troll through the ranks of heraldry one might conclude that the image is the unnatural product of a drunken coupling between a two-headed Russian eagle and Moldovan canary.
The (s)wanky Dago tailors apologized to any offence caused, yanked the t-shirt from the website and everyone has gone back to sleep. But I for one am waiting for Reds to sue RI for stealing their Imperial eagle's love child.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Grinch Population Increases by Two
Your Grinch is somewhat less grumpy that usual this week due to the arrival of his first pups, a male and a female, who emerged into the harsh light of day seven weeks earlier than expected on January 14.
In the manner of their species, they will henceforth be referred to as Boy and Girl, until such time as they are old enough to chose a name for themselves.
Fraternal twins, they bear almost no resemblance to each other which is merciful because who wants to waste the brainpower trying to sort out one spooky identical twin from the other. I believe the Girl most resembles me:
The jury is undecided about the Boy. It is worth noting that anthropological geneticists posit the reason pups most often resemble he what sired ‘em, is a holdover from a more primitive era when fathers were known to eat newborns who’s lineage might be in question (rather than fattening them up for a later date as is now the case).
The missus and I brought the Girl to the den today for the first time, 11 days after she rent the pre-dawn skies with her Grinchy wails. The Boy will remain in his toaster for some more days in a secure facility well away from vulnerable life forms with inferior innate survival skills, like fawns, bunnies, Who-manoids and other bite-sized aperitifs masquerading as sentient.
Herself and I are of course moderately not-unhappy about this event and look forward to sharing our multiple 3-4 a.m. feedings with residents of neighboring den units. The Girl’s viewing hours will be restricted for the next few days, but once the bars of her cage are properly welded she will pose no danger to our guests.
In the manner of their species, they will henceforth be referred to as Boy and Girl, until such time as they are old enough to chose a name for themselves.
Fraternal twins, they bear almost no resemblance to each other which is merciful because who wants to waste the brainpower trying to sort out one spooky identical twin from the other. I believe the Girl most resembles me:
The jury is undecided about the Boy. It is worth noting that anthropological geneticists posit the reason pups most often resemble he what sired ‘em, is a holdover from a more primitive era when fathers were known to eat newborns who’s lineage might be in question (rather than fattening them up for a later date as is now the case).
The missus and I brought the Girl to the den today for the first time, 11 days after she rent the pre-dawn skies with her Grinchy wails. The Boy will remain in his toaster for some more days in a secure facility well away from vulnerable life forms with inferior innate survival skills, like fawns, bunnies, Who-manoids and other bite-sized aperitifs masquerading as sentient.
Herself and I are of course moderately not-unhappy about this event and look forward to sharing our multiple 3-4 a.m. feedings with residents of neighboring den units. The Girl’s viewing hours will be restricted for the next few days, but once the bars of her cage are properly welded she will pose no danger to our guests.
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
RIP Tor Norling: Pengeskap reiser, meg venn
Inside a broken clock
Splashing the wine
With all the Rain Dogs
Taxi, we'd rather walk.
Huddle a doorway with the Rain Dogs
For I am a Rain Dog, too
Oh, how we danced and we swallowed the night
For it was all ripe for dreaming
Oh, how we danced away
All of the lights
We've always been out of our minds.
The Rum pours strong and thin
Beat out the dustman
With the Rain Dogs
Aboard a shipwreck train
Give my umbrella to the Rain Dogs
For I am a Rain Dog, too.
Oh, how we danced with the
Rose of Tralee
Her long hair black as a raven
Oh, how we danced and you
Whispered to me
You'll never be going back home
You'll never be going back home
Rain Dogs
Tom Waits - from the Album Rain Dogs
Learned this morning of the tragic and untimely death of my old friend, Bangkok-based Norweigan freelancer, Torgeir Norling.
Tor, 37, was killed early Sunday morning when he was hit by a bus while walking with friends.
A droll, soft-spoken fellow with a taste for the brew, we'd pooled resources and contacts on several occasions over the years, including East Timor, Afghanistan and a couple of times in Aceh, including in 2001 when he was detained and harassed by Indonesian intell in Lhokseumawe. We always wondered if it was the same braindead guys who busted and interrograted my wife and I for several hours in 2004.
Though we'd fallen out of contact the past couple of years we managed to hook up for beers at the Bangkok Foreign Correspondent's Club a few months back, shaggy, wild-eyed and chain-smoking, to rehash old stories and mull the future. He'd become a dad in the interim & the way he described it, he seemed to relish the part.
I was surprised to learn he's part-owner (dunno exact role, actually) in Rain Dogs bar off Rama IV Road: a suitable name for a man whose cleareyed reportage rested heavily on the little guy, the monk, the activist, the refugee.
Suitable offerings to Ullr, Odin and Freya tonight, my friend.
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