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CONTENTS
Vol. 15, No. 2: AprilJune 1983
Celia E. Mather - Industrialization in the Tangerang Regency of
West Java
Benjamin White - Agricultural Innovation and Its Critics: Twenty
Years After
Rodolphe De Koninck - Getting Them to Work Profitably: How the
Small Peasants Help the Large Ones, the State and Capital
Richard W. Franke - East Timor: The Responsibility of the United
States
Torben Retboll - East Timor and Indonesia
Richard W. Franke - Indonesia / A Short Review
Indonesian Workers and Their Right to Organize, by Indonesian
Documentation and Information Centre (ed); INDOKUMENTA:
Maadoverzicht Arbeiders in Indonesie; and Mesenrechten in
Indonesie, by INDOC
Timothy Brook - Friends and Enemies of the People / A Review
Essay. Chinese Perspectives on the Nien Rebellion, by Elizabeth
Perry; The People versus the Taipings: Bao Lishengs Righteous
Army of Dongang, by James Cole
Sung Il-Choi - South Korea under Park Chung Hee: Development or
Decay / A Review Essay. Studies in the Modernization of Korea,
1945-1975, 8 vols., published by the Harvard Council on East Asia
Studies
BCAS/Critical AsianStudies
www.bcasnet.org
CCAS Statement of Purpose
Critical Asian Studies continues to be inspired by the statement of purpose
formulated in 1969 by its parent organization, the Committee of Concerned
Asian Scholars (CCAS). CCAS ceased to exist as an organization in 1979,
but the BCAS board decided in 1993 that the CCAS Statement of Purpose
should be published in our journal at least once a year.
We first came together in opposition to the brutal aggression of
the United States in Vietnam and to the complicity or silence of
our profession with regard to that policy. Those in the field of
Asian studies bear responsibility for the consequences of their
research and the political posture of their profession. We are
concerned about the present unwillingness of specialists to speak
out against the implications of an Asian policy committed to en-
suring American domination of much of Asia. We reject the le-
gitimacy of this aim, and attempt to change this policy. We
recognize that the present structure of the profession has often
perverted scholarship and alienated many people in the field.
The Committee of Concerned Asian Scholars seeks to develop a
humane and knowledgeable understanding of Asian societies
and their efforts to maintain cultural integrity and to confront
such problems as poverty, oppression, and imperialism. We real-
ize that to be students of other peoples, we must first understand
our relations to them.
CCAS wishes to create alternatives to the prevailing trends in
scholarship on Asia, which too often spring from a parochial
cultural perspective and serve selfish interests and expansion-
ism. Our organization is designed to function as a catalyst, a
communications network for both Asian and Western scholars, a
provider of central resources for local chapters, and a commu-
nity for the development of anti-imperialist research.
Passed, 2830 March 1969
Boston, Massachusetts
Vol. 15, No. 2/ Apr .-June, 1983
Contents
Celia E. Mather 2 Industrialization in the Tangerang Regency of West Java:
Women Workers and the Islamic Patriarchy
Benjamin White 18 "Agricultural Involution" and its Critics: Twenty Years
After
Rodolphe De Koninck 32 Getting Them to Work Profitably: How the Small Peasants
Help the Large Ones, the State and Capital
Richard W. Franke 42 East Timor: The Responsibility of the United States
Torben Retboll 59 East Timor and Indonesia
Richard W. Franke 62 Indonesia/short review
Indonesian Workers and their Right to Organize, by Indone
sian Documentation and Information Centre (ed);
INDOKUMENTA: Maandoverzicht Arbeiders in Indonesie;
and Mesenrechten in Indonesie, by INDOC
Timothy Brook 64 Friends and Enemies of the People/review essay
Chinese Perspectives on the Nien Rebellion, by Elizabeth
Perry; The People versus the Taipings: Bao Lisheng' s "Right
eous Army ofDongang," by James Cole.
Sung-il Choi 67 South Korea Under Park Chung Hee: Development or
Decay/review essay
Studies in the Modernization ofthe Republic ofKorea:
1945-1975, 8 vols., published by the Harvard Council
on East Asia Studies
72 List of Books to Review
Contributors
Timothy Brook: Harvard University, Cambridge,
Celia E. Mather: The Institute of Development Studies,
Massachusetts
University of Sussex, Brighton, England
Sung-il Choi: Department of Political Science, Hobart and
Torben Retboll: Department of History, Arhus Katedral
William Smith Colleges, Geneva, New York skole, Arhus, Denmark
Richard W. Franke: Department of Anthropology, Mont
Benjamin White: Institute of Social Studies, The Hague, The
clair State College, Upper Montclair, New Jersey Netherlands
Rodolphe De Koninck: Department of Geography, Uni
versite Laval, Quebec
The cover illustrations and the fine drawings of Indonesia appearing
throughout this issues are by Hans Borket , Leiden, The Netherlands.
Industrialization in the Tangerang Regency of West Java:
Women Workers and the Islamic Patriarchy
by Celia E. Mather
Nyi
If she had followed in her mother's footsteps, Nyi
would have become a domestic servant. For the women of
her hamlet who have no land to cultivate or capital to trade,
becoming a servant in the neighboring town has long been
the best way to earn a living before being married. Now,
many factories have arrived in the villages where Nyi grew
up, and Nyi has become a factory worker instead. Her job
is packing medicines.
In many ways, Nyi says, working in a factory is better
than being a servant. Servants must live in the homes of the
people they work for, where they are at the beck and call of
their employers from before dawn to late into the evening.
Being a servant is exhausting work. Employers like to boss
servants around; they never seem to leave you alone. And,
though you get your food and lodging, the pay is no more
than pocket money. You can't buy your own clothes but
must rely on gifts and cast-offs from other people. But
worst of all, for Nyi, would be the isolation; far from your
family and friends, you are not allowed even to go out and
make friends among the other servants nearby because
your employers are afraid you will all gossip about them.
Nyi knows that being a servant is a lonely occupation, and
few of her friends want to do it these days.
By contrast, factory work is not so bad. Some factories
are dirty and the work heavy, but this is not so different
from life as a servant. Pharmaceutical factories, on the
other hand, can be light and clean, and though the work is
non-stop, they let you do it sitting down. The bosses also
order you about and can be very rude, but that is nothing
new. What is new is that the working day has its limits, from
7 a.m. to 5 p.m., say, and once you have gone out the
factory gates your boss no longer has any say in your life.
And best of all, there are many other girls your age on your
shift, and you can make friends with them. The very best
part of the day is walking home with the other girls, sharing
a joke about your supervisor.
Once home, Nyi has more work to do. She bathes her
younger brothers and sisters while her mother finishes
cooking the evening meal and finds time to say her evening
prayers. After dinner, Nyi washes up. In the morning,
before work, she sweeps the floor, washes clothes, and
fetches water. When a child in the house is ill, Nyi faces a
2
dilemma; if she takes a day off to look after him she loses
her pay.
Nyi gets very little money for the hours of work she
puts in at the factory. Though she has been there for ten
months already, she is still on "probation" and is paid only
Rp.200 (US 32) a day, provided she reaches a certain
target, plus Rp.50 for a meal which she must buy at the
firm's canteen. Her money buys kerosene, soap and
matches for the household but little else; her food comes
from what her father can make selling ices outside factory
gates, and her mother's income selling cakes. They find it
very difficult to make ends meet and they say that a factory
wage coming into the family has not particularly raised their
standard of living; in some ways they are poorer now as
there is very little agricultural work left.
Nyi and her friends have never dared ask the factory
manager to raise their wages; they say they would never be
so brave. Nyi has never yet spoken to such a powerful and
important man, inside or outside the factory. Some migrant
workers did once speak up, but they lost their jobs.
Nyi has just had her seventeenth birthday. Two years
ago she was married to a boy from a neighboring hamlet but
it didn't work out and after less than a year he left her. Now
another man is interested in her; he seems quite nice but he
is already married and Nyi is not that keen on becoming a
second wife. She thinks that such a man is not always
reliable, and sometimes a first wife tries to create trouble
for a second wife. If she did marry him she would still live
with her parents, at least for the first few years; and she
would still work in the factory, at least until she got preg
nant. She would have to hope that her new husband would
support his child and give her family money to replace her
factory wage, that he would be able and willing to do so.
But all that is still in the future, and God will resolve
these problems for her, says Nyi. Meanwhile, people say
she ought to marry again soon; it's not right for a young
woman like her to be without a husband. Nyi, like her
mother before her, still has no choice in that.
The New Industrialization
Industrialization under the "New Order" Govern
,
,.
/
1
I
-"
Cross-hatching shows the location o/the study. From a map by Hans Borkent.
ment in Indonesia has now been proceeding apace for
fifteen years. Its main purpose has been to generate growth
in the Indonesian economy and in this respect there has
been some success, especially in the first part of the 1970s,
with manufacturing increasing its share of the Gross Do
mestic Product (GDP) from nearly 9 percent in 1971 to 12
percent in 1977, and contributing to high growth rates in
the economy as a whole. Since then there has been some
slackening off, with manufacturing production over
shadowed in significance by oil and gas, but national and
international planners continue to stress the role of in
dustrialization in their strategy for Indonesia's
"development. "
Throughout, foreign capital has been encouraged to
take the lead and investors in manufacturing come from all
the major industrial countries and many neighboring Asian
countries, but above all from Japan, Hong Kong and
America as well as multinational sources. It is difficult to
assess how much foreign capital has been invested in In
donesian manufacturing in this period. Under the Foreign
Capital Investment (PMA) scheme, with its special tax and
fiscal concessions for foreign investors, almost US$1,620
million went into 458 PMA industrial projects between
1967 and mid-1978, 1 but much foreign capital also comes in
1. The figure given here is for actual PMA investment not approvals,
which is the more usually published figure. The one should not be con
fused with the other, since actual PMA investment is generally only 40
percent of that approved. Bank Indonesia, Penanaman ModiJl Asing Per 30
through joint ventures in "domestic" capital investment
(PMDN) enterprises,
2
as well as firms outside either of
these schemes ("non-fasilitas"), though there are no reli
able figures to estimate the size of these latter flows. In all,
foreign capital now dominates all the main sectors of man
ufacturing industry in Indonesia.
Foreign capital has been attracted by several factors.
At first, it was thought that Indonesia would have a poten
tially large domestic market for consumer goods, and most
factories have been built on an import substitution basis.
However, this internal market has been slow in growing,
with the majority of Indonesian people still too poor to buy
many consumer goods. Instead, as in many countries, in
ternational advisers such as the World Bank are nowen
couraging a shift away from import-substitution towards
the production of goods for export. The 33 percent devalu
ation of the rupiah in November 1978 was expressly in
tended to benefit export producers. Above all the main
attraction for investors from abroad has been the large
supply of cheap labor which Indonesia can provide.
Changes in land ownership patterns and agricultural tech
2. See Yoshi Tsurumi, "Japanese Investment in Indonesia: Ownership,
Technology Transfer and Political Conflict," in G.F. Papanek (ed.), The
Indonesian Economy. Praeger Special Studies, New York, 1980; and Louis
T. Wells, J r., "Foreign Investment from the Third World: The Experience
of Chinese Firms from Hongkong," Columbia Journal o/World Business.
Spring 1978, p. 39-49. The capital value of PMDN approvals to mid-1978
amounted to some Rp.3,OOO million (US$7.2 million at pre-devaluation
I
I
I
Juni 1978. (Foreign Capital Investment to 30 June 1978), Jakarta, 1978. prices), Kompas. 9 August 1978.
3
t
productive industries which are usually owned by Indo
The public attitude deemed most appropriate for
women is "malu." This refers to both the mental and
physical attitudes of women, encouraging them to ap
pear shy, embarrassed and retiring, deferring to su
periors and remaining at a distance from them, avert
ing their eyes, and so on. Women are also encouraged
to feel afraid (takut) of new experiences and new peo
ple. The opposite "berani" applies to behavior which
is assertive and forceful, and this is considered most
inappropriate, even dangerous, for the women of
Kelompok, though as with much that is dangerous it
holds its own fascination.
niques have been at the expense of small-holders. Petty
trade absorbs many of those with little or no access to land;
indeed, Java today seems an island peopled by street ven
dors and minor middlemen, but the income they earn is
minimal. This means that literally millions are desperate
for a livelihood and will accept very low wages. A British
based textile thread manufacturer has published its inter
national labor costs and these give a good idea of Indo
nesia's ranking on the world scale. On its index which ranks
the UK at 100 (2.678 per worker per hour) and West
Germany at 133, Brazil is 31, India 13, and Indonesia the
lowest of all at only 6 (0.166 per worker per hour) which
on double or treble shifts can be reduced to 5.
3
However,
most of the large electronic assembly and garment-making
up plants which roam the world seeking cheap labor have
not yet been attracted to Indonesia. Many are put off by
confusion and corruption in the Indonesian bureaucracy
and the lack of services such as good roads, telephone and
telex systems, dependable water supply, and so on. They
still prefer other countries such as Malaysia, even though
the labor costs there are marginally higher than in
Indonesia.
It has been said by Indonesian national economic plan
ners and their international advisers that this industrializa
tion will provide part of the solution to Indonesia's severe
employment problems. However, many now agree that the
job record of the new manufacturing industries has been
and is likely to be a continuing disappointment. Though
3.5-4 million people are employed in the manufacturing
sector, this is only 6 to 7 percent of the total labor force.
4
Only three-quarters of a million of them work in the large
and medium-sized firms where most foreign capital is in
vested.
s
The rest are employed in the small-scale, less
3. Financial Times, London, 29 June 1981.
4. Actual employment figures are the subject of debate. See particularly,
Peter McCawley and Maree Tait, "New Data on Employment in Man
ufacturing 1970-76," Bulletin ofIndonesian Economic Studies, (BIES), Vol.
XV, No.1, March 1979; David Dapice and Donald Snodgrass, "Employ
ment in Manufacturing 1970-77: A Comment," and Peter McCawley and
Maree Tait, "A Reply," BIES, Vol. XV, No.3, November 1979; H.W.
Arndt and R.M. Sundrum, "Employment, Unemployment and Under
employment," BIES, Vol. XVI, No.3, November 1980.
5. McCawley and Tait, BIES, March 1979, ibid., Table 4.
nesian nationals, and some say that employment here is
growing while the large firms, increasingly capital-inten
sive, employ relatively fewer people.
6
Moreover, though
there has been some indirect employment created to serv
ice the factories, many people have lost their sources of
income, particularly those making handicraft goods which
cannot now compete with cheap plastic or textile manu
factured goods. Given this poor record, it is worth asking
just how much investment in manufacturing would be
needed to make any meaningful contribution towards solv
ing Indonesia's unemployment problem, among a labor
force that is growing by 1.3 million every year.
7
Industrialization and the creation of labor forces is not
merely a question of numbers employed. Nor is it solely or
even predominantly a question of shifting people from less
to more productive work, as some have argued.
8
For the
people being employed, the terms and conditions under
which they work are as vital, if not more so, for assessing
the impact of industrialization on employment problems.
These questions are much less frequently discussed by
economists and planners who usually work with an assump
tion that industrialization will provide jobs at "rising real
wages."9 Yet wages in the industrial sector have not kept
pace with inflation, in some cases have been reduced in real
terms from levels common in the early 1970s, and are even
lower than in the late colonial period. 10 Moreover, security
of employment is just as important for those employed as
the level of wages. Yet here again the evidence is that few
industrial workers have any security; many are employed
on a casual daily (harian lepas), probationary (percobaan),
seasonal (musiman), or fixed-term contract (kontrak) basis,
all of which entitle the industrial management to hire and
fire workers at will, without the need to refer to any agree
ments with a trade union, or to existing labor law. I I Such
questions are equally important as job totals in assessing
the contribution of industrialization towards progress and
development.
Moreover, the wider social effects of industrialization
are deep and penetrating. After all, industrialization rad
ically changed the nature of those societies which we now
call industrialized. While it is not likely that Indonesia will
become an industrialized nation in anything but the long
term (though some Indonesian planners have the year 2000
in mind), few planners and policy-makers have paid much
attention to social questions.
6. Donald R. Snodgrass, "Small-Scale Manufacturing Industries: Pat
terns, Recent Trends and Some Implications," Development Discussion
Paper No. 54, Harvard Institute for International Development, Harvard
University, March 1979.
7. McCawley and Tait, BIES, March 1979, op. cit.
8. Arndt and Sundrum, BIES, November 1980, op. cit.
9. See, for example, G.F. Papanek, "The Effect of Economic Growth
and Inflation on Workers' Income" in G.F. Papanek (ed.), 1980, op. cit.,
p. 120; and also Juergen B. Donges, Bernd Stecher and Frank Wolter,
"Industrialisation in Indonesia," in ibid., p. 357. None of these writers
acknowledge the role of Indonesian state intervention in holding wages
down.
10. Papanek, ibid., p. 83.
11. INDDC, Indonesian Workers and Their Right to Organise, Indonesian
Documentation Centre, Leiden, 1981, p. 119-121.
4
In this article we shall redress the imbalance a little,
and look at some of the social effects of the industrializa
tion policy. To do this we shall focus on a localized area, a
group of three neighboring villages (desa) on. the outer
edges of the "industrial zone" around Jakarta, where field
work was carried out during 1978-79.
12
In particular we
shall look at the recruitment policies of the new factories
built there during the 1970s and see what implications these
may have for the lives of the people of these villages,
especially for the women.
The Creation of a Labor Force
Indonesia's manufacturing industry is mostly found in
a few enclaves in and around the major cities. Jakarta itself
was announced to be "full" by 1972, and the government
began encouraging new and existing industries alike to
move out into the hinterland, in particular drawing up the
JABOTABEK (JAkarta, BOgor, TAngerang, and
BEKasi) Development Plan for the area within a 40 kilom
eter radius of the capital city. We shall be looking in detail
at a part of the western area of this industrial hinterland, at
the industrial development in the Regency (kabupaten) of
Tangerang.
Tangerang saw a remarkable explosion in industrial
investment during the 1970s, from 212 firms with a total
capital investment of only Rp.307 million (US $0.73 mil
lion) in 1969-70 to 528 firms (PMA, PMDN and non
fasilitas) with a total capital investment of Rp.214,293 mil
lion (US$516 million at pre-devaluation prices) in mid
1978.
13
Products range from chemicals and plastics, metal
and rubber goods, construction materials, ceramic and
paper products, to food and drink processing. By far the
largest enterprises are several Japanese polyester fiber and
other synthetic textile plants built between 1972 and 1976
with a declared capital investment ofUS$9-30 million each.
These provide the yams for a large number of weaving and
knitting mills in the area. In all, these factories employed
an estimated 60,000 people in 1978. This represents about
9.5 percent of the adult population who are potentially
available for work (those aged fifteen to fifty years) except
that no official population figures account for the thousands
of migrants who constantly flow in and out of the Regency;
nor does this percentage take account of young teenagers
and children, many of whom are employed in the new
factories. Another estimated 32,300 people in Tangerang
Regency work in 27,428 "handicrafts" (kerajinan) and
other small-scale workshops, whose total capital value was
only about Rp.I447 million (US$3 million). 14
As this industrialization pushed outwards along the
main road running westwards from Jakarta through
Tangerang town, many previously rural villages became
12. A year's anthropological fieldwork was carried out in these villages
during 1978-79. The assistance of the Indonesian Academy of Sciences
(LlPI) and the British Social Science Research Council is gratefully
acknowledged.
13. DINAS Perindustrian, (Industry Office), Regency of Tangerang; and
Pemerintah Daerah Tingkat II Kabupaten Tangerang, Gambaran Umum
Kabupaten DT II Tangerang. (General Outline of the Regency of Tange
rang), Tangerang, 17 July 1978, p. 6-7.
14. Ibid.
Ten-year aids at work in a textile factory in Bandung. West Java. (INDOe.
Leiden. The Netherlands)
saturated with manufacturing and speCUlative capital. The
three neighboring villages of our survey, here together
named Kelompok, house a total of about 18,000 people in
fourteen hamlets (kampung). Lying some thirty-five kilo
meters out of Jakarta, these villages sit on the very edge of
the industrial area, where the factories meet the rice fields.
At the end of the 1970s, the villages still appeared largely
rural, with the new factories dotted in and around the
densely-populated hamlets and their wet and dry agricul
turallands. In spite of this agrarian appearance, the indus
trial development had already become the dominant force
in the area, influencing all aspects of social, economic and
political life there.
The area of Kelompok has never been an agricultur
ally rich one. Until the 1920s it, like much of the rest of the
Jakarta hinterland, was the domain of estates (particuliere
landerijen), many of which were owned by Chinese land
lords who controlled their subservient population in a
feudal and tyrannical manner quite un typical of the rest of
Java. These estates were disbanded from 1920 onwards.
Only then did the Dutch colonial regime begin establishing
its authority over the hinterland of Batavia (Jakarta), and
investing in irrigation, roads, etc. Kelompok, with only
small patches of wet rice fields in between the dry hillocks,
5
remained a backwater, in spite of its position on the main
road, never receiving much attention from the central gov
ernment, neither under the Dutch nor under the new inde
pendent Republic after the Japanese occupation. Mean
while the land continued to yield very poor results, being
rain-dependent and subject to drought or floods. Many
households were dispossessed of their land in the 1930s
Depression, and from then onwards the land failed to
support a substantial proportion of the people. Instead
they turned to Tangerang town, only six to eight kilometers
away, or to the capital city, to make a living as hawkers and
domestic servants. This, then, was an area much in need of
attention and investment and, given the poor prospects for
employment in agriculture, not unsuited to becoming an
industrial area.
From the early 1970s to early 1979, some fifty-six
factories were built in Kelompok, mostly producing con
sumer goods for the domestic market, including tires, plas
tic goods, pharmaceuticals, air-conditioning units, elec
trical cables, steel rods, motorbike parts, confectionery
and biscuits, amongst others. Four were PMA firms, fifteen
PMDN, and thirty-seven (66 percent) non-fasilitas. Which
ever they were, most were owned by a combination of
national and foreign capital, where national capital was
usually from domestic Chinese sources in collaboration
with individuals from the national or local bureaucracy,
and foreign capital ranged from American, Japanese and
Thai sources but was mostly from overseas Chinese in
terests in Singapore, Hong Kong and Taiwan. Of these
fifty-six firms at the beginning of 1979, three were not yet in
production, and twelve had already ceased production.
Of the forty-one factories in production near
Kelompok at that time, seventeen were large firms employ
ing 100 or more workers, nineteen were medium-sized with
20-99 workers, and five were small with 5-19 workers. The
labor force of all these factories together numbered some
6,000 people, which represented more than half of the total
registered population of 10,500 men and women between
the ages of eleven and fifty years, that is half of the potential
labor force. At first sight this suggests that the new indust-
By recruiting young people, especially young girls,
from these hamlets [of Kelompok] into the factories,
the industrial capitalists are able to make use of the
traditional forms of subordination of women to men,
and youth to age, to create a labor force that is rela
tively easy to dominate.
rial development in Kelompok was successfully re-employ
ing a significant proportion of the many people who had
insufficient access to agricultural land, both those who were
landless or nearly so before the arrival of the factories and
those dispossessed in the 1970s by industrialists, specu
lators and land-dealers, (together totalling as many as 78
percent of the households in the hamlet where a detailed
household survey was carried out). Upon closer inspection,
particularly if we look at who are and who are not em
ployed in the factories of Kelompok and the conditions of
their labor, this optimistic picture shows many of the flaws
inherent in an employment strategy based upon this kind of
industrialization.
The factories of Kelompok recruit only certain types
of people into their workforce. The majority of the en
terprises have a short-term strategy. They use low-technol
ogy equipment and have low productivity (often installing
second-hand machinery from other Asian countries); and
they specialize in simple manufactured products which sell
In a cigaretteJactory in Java.
6
Table 1
Industrial Wages and Salaries in Kelompok,
Tangerang Regency, West Java, Indonesia, February 1979
Male Female Remarks
Rp.* Rp.
Unskilled Wages
l
per day per day
Casual day-laborer 200-300 150-250 No job security, no "extras" such as sick pay,
(harian lepas) paid holidays, etc.
Probationary (percobaan) 200-350 150-250 Few "extras" or benefits, e.g., food allowance ofRp.
50 per shift. "Probations" can last for many years.
Permanent day-laborer 250-600 200-400 A limited range of benefits and extras granted, e.g.,
(harlan tetap) paid holidays, sick-pay. In some factories, a low daily
wage (e.g., Rp. 150) is supplemented by a monthly
bonus, which is reduced proportionately for days
taken off.
Skilled Wages I.
2
driver 650-1000 Entitled to sick-pay, medical expenses, transport
mechanic 1000-1800 money, food allowance, paid holidays, etc.
welder 2000-3000
Salaries
2
per month per month
low (clerk, supervisor, 10,000
technician, security guard) 50,000
medium (lower management) 50,000
400,000
high (top executives, 400,000
Indonesian/foreign) upwards
* Rp. 625 = US$I
I. Standardizing wages for the purpose of comparison is difficult because individual factories vary greatly in their practices "basic pay" and "extras" or
benefits granted. The figures given represent typical total wages divided on a per diem basis.
2. Few people from the indigenous village population receive skilled daily wages or monthly salaries.
Source: Fieldwork Data, Department ofManpower, (DEPNAKER), Tangerang Regency
at low prices. To achieve profits under these conditions, month contracts, others had their wages cut in real terms.
they keep unit costs per worker as low as possible, paying Therefore, the factory jobs in Kelompok are very badly
very low wages and usually not allowing even the barest paid and insecure. The people recruited to do them are
minimum of "extras" such as paid holidays or sick leave those who are most likely to accept work under these
(Table 1). Few invest to protect the welfare or safety of conditions, usually the very young and ill-educated, with a
their workers and accidents are frequent. Also, because high proportion of young women.
many of these enterprises are highly susceptible to financial Though the factories employ about equal amounts of
fluctuations, they insist on the right to layoff workers young men and women, the distribution is not random,
during a crisis, and this they frequently do. The workers are with one gender or the other employed for different types
employed on a daily, seasonal or short-contract basis, or as of products or parts of the production process. Young
"probationers" even for many years, so that they can be women are paid only 70 percent of the wages of the young
laid off at a moment's notice. After the devaluation of the men for comparable work, and they are found doing heavy
rupiah in November 1978, which badly hit this type of work such as humping tires from place to place as well as
enterprise, many factories in Kelompok cut back produc so-called "lighter," if boring, jobs such as packing. The
tion and laid off workers, unable to pay their wage bill factory managers openly state that young women are
while bank credits were frozen. When the workers were cheaper and more easy to control than young men. Though
taken on again, some of them found new compulsory three- it is not always clear why each particular factory manage
7
ment chooses the distribution of young women and young
men that it does, in general terms managers do so in order
to keep their wage bills as low as possible and to avoid a
potentially troublesome workforce.
This is also the reasoning behind employing mostly
ill-educated young people. At the beginning of the 1970s
many new enterprises recruited workers with high- or mid
dle-school education. However, many of these workers
became dissatisfied with the lack of training and promotion
in the factories; this led to industrial unrest including de
monstrations, sit-ins and violence against managers. Con
sequently, during the mid-1970s there was a change to
wards recruiting poorly-educated workers, for example
those with only a few years at elementary school, who, it
was reasoned, would have sufficient discipline to carry out
their tasks but who would be less likely to make demands
about their rights and to initiate industrial action. A typical
pattern inside the factories is now the employment of large
numbers of barely-educated girls supervised by young men
of high- or middle-school education.
Moreover, the factories employ mostly young people,
especially aged thirteen to twenty years. This is done not
only to facilitate control within the factories, but also to
keep wages down. Even here where people marry at an
early age, the employment of young people increases the
likelihood of employing single people, especially those
without children, which in tum relieves the pressure to pay
a "social" wage insufficient for dependents. In other indus
trial areas of Indonesia, large industrial concerns are no
torious for ensuring that they employ workers without chil
dren, by sacking those who get married or pregnant, or
even carrying out physical checks on women recruits to see
if they have ever given birth. IS There is no evidence that
these practices are widespread in Kelompok, but they are
not necessary since the low wages paid here make it diffi
cult, in spite of the high levels of unemployment, for any
one with dependents to accept factory work. Few adult
men or women with children or aged parents to support can
accept wages that are barely sufficient to support one per
son (Table 2) let alone provide for others, and indeed few of
them are taken onto the workforce. Occasionally, for ex
ample, a divorced or widowed woman who needs to sup
port her children in between marriages may try factory
employment, but the money earned is usually insufficient
to buy their food and other household goods and to replace
the necessary labor she puts into the household, so that
their already low standards of health and nutrition
l6
may
decline further, endangering the lives of her children. For
15. INDOC, 1981, op. cit.. p. 43-44.
16. A household survey revealed that most adults in Kelompok eat 0.50
0.75 liters of rice per day with a small piece of dried saIted fish (ikan asin)
and some leaf vegetable (sayuran). If the cash income is high enough, wet
fish (ikan basah) or soya bean curd (tahu) or cake (tempe. oncom) is added;
though these are high quality foods they are not eaten in great quantity.
Most Kelompok people, even the comparatively well-off. eat chicken only
once a year at the Lebaran holy festival. Eggs and fruit are sold for cash
rather than eaten. Children tend to eat a lot of rice but fewer vegetables
than adults; malnutrition in the form of pot-bellies is common. as are
dysentery and skin diseases. A comparison between the typical wage for
an unskilled woman worker (table 1) and food prices (table 2) will show
how difficult it is for a lone woman to support her children on an industrial
wage.
Table 2
Prices of Selected Goods in Kelompok,
Tangerang Regency, West Java, Indonesia
February 1979
Milled Rice (beras)
high quality
low quality
Cassava (ubi singkong)
Chilli (cabe)
Sweet Com (jagung)
Peanuts (kacang tanah)
Banana (pisang ambon)
Chicken (ayam)
Chicken's Egg (telorayam)
Fish
fresh (ikan basah)
salted (ikan asin)
high quality
low quality
Soya Bean Curd (tahu)
Soya Bean Cake (tempe)
Sugar (gula jawa)
Salt (garam)
Coffee (kopi)
Tea (teh)
Cooking Oil (minyak goreng)
Kerosene (minyak tanah)
Soap (sabun)
Milk
tinned (susu kaleng)
powdered (SGM)
* Rp. 625 = US$1
Source: Fieldwork Data.
Rp.*
150/liter
130/liter
25/kg
7oo/kg
20/piece
6OO/kg
250/bunch
14oo/piece
50/piece
750/kg
1600/kg
4OO/kg
125/ 10 pieces
75/piece
230/kg
30/piece
100/100 gm
I5/smaIl packet
310/bottle
30/liter
250/large piece
250/tin
850/tin
8
older people with dependents, factory labor is a poor op
tion among a range of poor options, including very mar
ginal petty trade, the little agricultural work that is left, or
temporary and infrequent work on projects
and road building; factory work gives as precarious an
existence as all of these and has not improved their pros
pects for a better life.
Rather than take factory jobs for themselves, adults
send their young daughters and sons, or sisters and
brothers, into the factories. Since the industrial wage is so
low, instead of becoming the central source of income for a
family, it is often regarded only as "supplementary." It
may be the only regular cash income coming into the house
hold and is vital to buy the necessary commodities such as
kerosene for lamps and cooking, matches and soap, but it is
rarely sufficient to purchase much more than these. A
young woman's wages are more likely to be contributed
into the household to buy these goods than are those of
young male laborers, who have more of a discretionary
right to spend their wages how they wish, but in both cases
1 the low wages mean that these young workers are depen
I
I
I dent upon others, parents or older brothers and sisters, for
a good proportion of their subsistence needs. The lowest
wage recorded (Rp.I50) is only enough to buy, say, a liter
of rice and two bananas, and so clearly all other needs of a
worker on this pay, the rest of her food, clothing, shelter,
leisure and so on, must be provided for from some other
source. When asked why they let their daughter work for
money which cannot feed her, parents reply that "she
I
would in any case eat our rice." In other words, whatever
I
work she was doing, they would be responsible for feeding
her. There is, then, a tacit agreement between parents and
factory managers that these young workers, especially
I
daughters, are dependent, and this allows the capital in
vestors in the area to pay wages which do not cover the
daily subsistence cost of their workforce. What the parents
I
of Kelompok workers do not express, though it is neverthe
1
less the case, is that, as poor as they are, they are subsidiz
ing the factories.
Not only are industrial wages in Kelompok absolutely
low, but they are also low relative to those in other industrial
areas. Wages here are, for example, up to 50 percent below
those generally paid in Jakarta. This is not because prices in
this part of Tangerang are lower; in some cases (including
rice) they are slightly higher. Yet in spite ofthis difference,
the workers of Tangerang seem much less willing than their
counterparts in Jakarta or Bogor to its south to engage in
industrial action to improve those wages and other condi
tions of work. Strikes and other forms of direct action do
occur from time to time in the factories of western Tange
rang, but they appear to be much less frequent than in other
areas. 17 This suggests that the workforce here is much more
subdued than elsewhere. We have seen that the factories
17. In the absence offree trade union organization and of official recogni
tion for existing labor law and negotiation machinery. the expression of
grievances has, since 1978, increasingly taken the form of direct action,
wildcat strikes, etc., which have in tum been met with further intensified
repression by the military and police authorities. First-hand observation
and careful study of newspaper reports throughout 1978-80 reveal that
such direct action is not as prevalent in the western Tangerang area.
Rehearsals of Revolution
The Political Theater of Bengal
Rustom Bharucha
280 pages, iIIus., November, $25.00s, ISBN 0-8248-0845-2
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I
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Rustom Bharucha acted, directed, and designed
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9
employ only certain categories of people in order to keep
wages down and prevent industrial action, but this is true
also in the other industrial areas where the young workers
have been more ready to voice their discontent. Rather we
must find some other element which encourages the work
?f Kel.ompok to accept very low wages and not engage
m disruptIon.
Islam and the Subordination of Women
Many writers
l8
have observed that women in Java
have a remarkable degree of independence from their men
folk. They report that many Javanese women head their
own households, inherit and own land and trading capital
in their own right, earn a living without dependency on
men, retain their children in case of divorce, and so on.
This has led some to claim that Javanese kin relations are
"matrifocal" and that the women there are as equal in
society as men. Whatever the truth of these findings for
Central and East Java, in the villages of West Tangerang
they do not ring true.
Kelompok lies several hundred kilometers to the west
of the areas of Central and East Java where these studies
were made. In this part of West Java, it is not possible to
have such an optimistic opinion about the position of
women. In particular, the people of Kelompok adhere
more strictly to Islamic principles than do those in Central
and East Java. Kelompok straddles a frontier area, on the
18. See, for example, H. Geertz, The Javanese Family: A Study of Kinship
and Socialisation. New York, Free Press of Glencoe, 1961; and Robert Jay,
Javanese Villagers: Social Relations in Rural Modjokuto, Cambridge, Massa
chusetts, MIT Press, 1969.
edges of the industrial zone radiating out of Jakarta to the
east, and at the same time entering into the rural area of
Eanten to the west. Eanten is particularly noted for its
orthodox and scholarly (santri) Islamic principles. Here,
male Islamic leaders, teachers and preachers (kiyai) head a
long-established and well-organized hierarchy and it is to
Eanten that the people of Kelompok look for their spiritual
ideological inspiration. In Kelompok the clergy, guar
dians of the moral code drawn mostly from medium to rich
landowners and wealthy traders, leads a patriarchy where
young people of both genders are encouraged to submit to
the authority of older men in general (and the authorities of
the mosque in particular) and where women of all ages are
subordinate to men.
Like women in other areas of Java, the women of
Kelompok have traditionally sought incomes at one time or
another outside the household. Apart from handicrafts
hats, now nearly defunct) and rice plant
109, weedmg and harvesting within the orbit of the hamlet,
they also engage in their own trade (usually foodstuffs,
batik cloth, and household goods) which can take them
touring other hamlets, and young girls have undertaken
domestic service in the towns. Their income is usually their
own to spend. Women in wealthy households can and do
own capital and inherit land and goods in their own right.
The property they take with them into marriage remains
their own upon divorce, and they are entitled to half the
property gained during marriage.
Women's property rights and their contribution to
production are in practice recognized as only secondary.
Many women complain that they do not usually receive
their full divorce entitlement. In inheritance men are gen
10
erally said to have "more of a burden to bear than women,"
and are entitled to (though not always claiming) double the
share of their sisters. Moreover, the work women do is
generally gender specific, that is "women's work" not done
by men. The domestic tasks which are always carried out by
women are considered women's primary work. Indeed,
women's work other than domestic tasks, for example
handicrafts and petty trade, is often termed "pekerjaan
nanggur," literally "the work of the unemployed,"19 sug
gesting that it is thought secondary to both their own do
mestic work and to men's work.
As many have pointed out, within the household and
the domestic sphere between households, women in Java
have considerable status and autonomy.20 Upon them falls
the burden and responsibility of organizing and carrying
out most of the work surrounding the reproduction of the
family, keeping them fed, clothed and clean, tasks which in
circumstances of gross poverty they carry out remarkably
well. For this, much of women's income, in spite of its
"secondary" label, is spent, here as in many parts of the
world,21 on necessary daily living expenses (biaya dapur),
especially for the children. By contrast, men's contribution
to the household, though believed primary and though
obligatory according to Islamic and secular law, is in prac
tice discretionary and, according to many women inter
viewed, not to be relied upon. There is no evidence that in
the majority of Kelompok households women control a
"joint purse"; on the contrary, many complain of h ~ diffi
culty they experience in establishing a pattern of pooled
income and fair distribution between themselves and their
husbands.
The evidence from other areas of Java, and also from
the Serpong Family Planning Project carried out in some"
villages only some fifteen kilometers away from
Kelompok, has been presented as if households are made
up mostly of stable nuclear families or simple extended
families, where "a married couple" live together over a
long period with their children, and possibly with their
parent(s) and/or a young sibling. 22 The evidence is open to
alternative analysis; certainly many households in
Kelompok do not fit easily into this picture. Divorce, re
marriage and polygamy are all common, with many people,
both men and women, marrying several times in a lifetime.
Children move between the homes of their separate par
ents, grandparents, elder brothers and sisters, and so on.
Families, even former nuclear ones, often become split up
and spread over many different dwellings. Meanwhile, in
spite of this fluidity, women continue to organize the con
19. Hans Borkent, "The Economic Structure in the Sub-District of Ser
pong," Family Planning Project Serpong, Serpong Paper No.8, University
of Indonesia and Leyden State University, 1974, p. 34.
20. See especially Ann Stoler, "Class Structure and Female Autonomy in
Rural Java," in B.B. Hering (ed.), Indonesian Women: Some Past and
Current Perspectives, Universite Libre de Bruxelles, Centre d'Etude de
Sud-Est Asiatique et de I'Extreme Orient, 1976; and Ann Ruth Willner,
"Expanding Women's Horizons in Indonesia: Toward a Maximum Equal
ity with Minimum Conflict" in the same volume.
21. Ann Whitehead, "I'm Hungry, Mum: The Politics of Domestic Budg
eting," in Kate Young, Carol Wolkowitz and Roslyn McCullagh, (eds.),
OfMarriage and the Market: Women's Subordination in International Perspec
tive, CSE Books, London, 1981.
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sumption of food (and the washing of clothes) and those
who gather together to consume what a woman provides
tend to do so on the basis of their kin or marriage ties to her.
In this respect, women do provide the focus of domestic
family relationships.
Women in this and probably most other parts of Java
are dependent upon men in that they all must marry. In
both my and the Serpong surveys, there were no house
holds headed by women who had never married, and this
has above all to do with the control of their sexuality and
reproductive powers, the supervision by men of women's
sexuality and their capacity to bear children. Any woman
who does not conform to this pattern, who makes her own
22. For the Serpong Project see Lida c.L. Zuidberg and Anidal Hasyir,
"Family, Marriage and Fertility in Serpong," in A.C.L. Zuidberg (ed.),
Family Planning in Rural West Java: The Serpong Project, University of
Indonesia and Leyden State University, Institute of Cultural and Social
Studies, Ge Nabrink & Son, Amsterdam, 1978, pp. 74-75; also, Lisa
Zuidberg, "Marriage, Fertility and Family Planning in the Kecamatan
Serpong," Serpong Paper No. 16, January 1975; and A.C.L. Zuidberg,
"The Household Group in the Kecamatan Serpong, " Serpong Paper No.7,
July 1974. For East Java, see Jay, 1969, op. cit., p. 53; and Geertz, 1961,
op. cit., p. 77.
A preoccupation with "nuclear families" is symptomatic of a structural
ist analysis which is essentially synchronistic; only when we view marital
relations over time do we see the flows of people in and out of consecutive
marriages and the widespread transitory nature of "nuclear" households.
Geertz recognizes this but still prefers the "structural significance" that at
anyone moment most adults in Java are married over the significance of
temporal change. She also admits that her emphasis on the marital pair
(rather than the Javanese individual's own perception of a network of kin
through the parental line ) is her own construct but she still insists upon it.
II
In order to establish a labor force that is cheap and
docile, to avoid a free labor market with the industrial
mUitancy which seems to accompany it in other indust
rial areas, the managers of the industrial capital in
vested in these villages have chosen to enter into al
liance with the Islamic patriarchs there.
decisions about her sexual life and bearing children outside
marriage, is called "immoral," a prostitute, and is ostra
cized. Marriage is almost universal for men too, but it does
not bind them to women to the same extent as it does
women to men. They do make their own independent
decisions about their sexuality and procreation of children,
able to form liaisons with divorced and widowed women
Uanda) without stigma to themselves and able, if they wish,
to engage in polygamy. Seventeen percent of male house
hold heads in my Kelompok survey were polygamous (usu
aUy from among more wealthy men). 23
First marriage for girls takes place at an early age; the
Serpong Project found an average age for the first marriage
of girls of just over fifteen years (no higher than in the
1930s), which is earlier than in either other areas of West
Java or in Central and East Java. By the age of eighteen, 75
percent of girls are already married. By contrast, men
marry later, at an average age of20.5 years. First marriages
are generally arranged by parents, though nowadays usu
ally with the consent and often on the initiative of the young
couple. Marriages are not necessarily long-term; divorce is
frequent (22 percent of marriages reported for Serpong
women ended in divorce). Divorce rights, however, are not
equal. As the Serpong Project says, "a husband can easily
divorce his wife for adultery, disobedience or barren
ness, "24 simply informing her verbally or by letter, whereas
a woman can only appeal for divorce to the local religious
(male) official responsible for questions of marriage
(penghulu) and must prove her case against a miscreant
husband.
Rather than being stigmatized, divorced or widowed
women, unless they are old and beyond child-bearing age,
are considered desirable and are very quickly remarried.
Young janda are particularly encouraged to remarry
23. There appeaB to be a widespread bias in the gathering of data on
marriage patterns in Indonesia which views marriage as a "women's issue"
and fails to take account of male patterns. For example, the Indonesian
Fertility-Mortality Survey of 1973 only interviewed women about marital
histories, (see P. McDonald and E.H. Abdurahman, "Marriage and
Divorce in West Java: An Example of the Effective Use of Marital
Histories, UniveBity ofIndonesia," Lembaga Demografi, Jakarta, 1974,
mimeo); and the Serpong Project records the incidence of both extra
marital relationships and polygamy as "limited" (Zuidberg, [ed.], 1978,
op. cit., p. 96) without any substantiating evidence. Such serious and
generalized distortions have led, amongst otheB, to an absence of au
thoritative data on the prevalence and nature of polygamy in Indonesia
today, and to birth control being seen as limiting women's fertility with no
similar attention to men's fertility. For a discussion on gender bias in
research see Barbara RogeB, The Domestication o/Women, Kogan Page,
London, 1980.
24. Zuidberg and Hasyir, 1978, op. cit., p. 88.
quickly because they become the sexual target of young
unmarried men who visit their verandahs in groups at night
(nganjang), and are likely to be denounced for sexual laxity
or simply "strange behavior" if they continue as single
women for any length of time. About a third of all Serpong
women marry twice or more, one husband following an
other in fairly quick succession. Women heading their own
households, then, do exist (12 percent of both Serpongand
Kelompok households) but they are considered "unfortu
nate," and where the woman is still young she is said to be
in a transitQry state "between husbands." Where a janda
has an adult son (over about fifteen years) living with her,
even if he is unmarried the son will usually be recognized as
"the head. "25 Some women run their own households
while their polygamous husband is absent visiting his other
wife or wives. Even while he is away, however, he has
public authority over all "his" households. If a husband is
frequently absent from a young wife, she will usually be
encouraged to live with her parents or an older married
sibling so that she does not lead an independent life.
A woman is not considered an adult until she marries,
a stage reached by boys at a much earlier age after their
circumcision,26 but it is upon bearing children that she
gains her full social identity. Bearing and rearing children
are considered women's most important task, their God
ordained role; and children, "gifts from Gods," are the
most prominent aspect of the lives of most women.
27
With
an earlier marriage age, fertility is also higher than in other
parts of Java. Average child-bearing age begins some two
years earlier than in Central Java and lasts a little longer;
intervals between pregnancies are shorter. At the end of
child-bearing age, Serpong women have born an average of
seven children (not including the 28 percent of pregnancies
which do not reach term). (Child mortality is also higher
here, affecting 26 percent of all children. )28
According to Islamic teaching, a man may demand
sexual intercourse from his wife whenever he wants (apart
from prohibited periods surrounding birth). It is a sin for
her to refuse, for "the wife is the field to be sown. "29 In
practice, a wife may refuse from time to time without
serious retribution, but since divorce and polygamy are
permitted and frequently occur when a husband is not
satisfied, wives feel themselves constantly under this
threat. A marriage is not considered successful unless there
are many children, and as we have seen childlessness is
25. Olivia Harris, "Households as Natural Units," in Youngetal., (eds.),
1981, op. cit. In Kelompok there was only one household where a still
married woman was considered the "head" of her household by her
neighbors and named as such by village records; she was aged about
fifty-five yeaB and was the principal wife of a polygamous husband who
spent almost all his time with his other two wives.
26. Jay, 1969, op. cit., p. 70, confirms the concept prevalent in East Java
"that classes children (that is, uncircumcised boys and unmarried girls)
with animate items such as livestock and the insane, all of which are seen
as incapable of adult behavior and hence as essentially innocent of social
responsibility. "
27. A. Buddy Prasadja and M. Aslam Sumhudi, "The Value of Children
in a Rural Islamic Community," Serpong PaperNo. 15, August 1975.
28. Zuidberg and Hasyir, 1978, op. cit., pp. 91-92.
29. Ibid., p. 89. See also the quotation from AI-Baqarah in N. Rochaini,
"Nilai-nilai Wanita dalam Agama Islam," (Women's Status in the Islamic
Religion), Prisma, Year 10, No.7, July 1981.
12
justification for a man to divorce his wife. Birth control is
not yet widely practiced in this part of Java. The Serpong
Project found in 1972, before the extension of the national
birth control program, that less than 10 percent of Serpong
women had ever practiced birth control of any kind (includ
ing herbal treatments, massage and abstinence), 30 wen
below equivalent figures available at that time for Central
and East Java. Women in Kelompok in 1978-79 were cer
tainly more aware of new methods of birth control (coil, pill
and injection) but still very few had yet dared use them.
Women who had already borne many children seemed
eager to consider birth control, but even then not openly
for fear of the opinions of both husbands and Islamic lead
ers. Islamic leaders were not openly in opposition to the
government-sponsored program of birth control, but it was
generally considered makruh, not appropriate and better
not to be done.
3
1
Children, then, are the focal point of women's lives
and by them they are identified. A husband often refers to
his wife as "the mother of my children." But this is not to
say that women have a greater claim than men over their
children. In contrast to the data from Central and East
Java, divorced mothers do not necessarily retain their chil
dren. While the mother continues to care for babies and
toddlers, children over the age of five are encouraged to
follow their divorced father into his new or other mar
riage( s). In practice this may not necessarily happen and we
find a greater range of patterns, with children attached to
grandparents, elder brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts,
etc. Even so, the father is recognized to have priority, first
right of option over his children.
Men's rights over women and children do not rest
upon individual power relationships but are embedded
within and supported by the organized Islamic patriarchy.
We have mentioned how the Islamic authorities stand
guard over marriage, controlling for example women's ac
cess to divorce; they also arrange marriages in order that no
child is born without a recognized father (providing one
when the genitor of a baby is unknown). They are responsi
ble for overseeing, and will intervene in any circumstance
which threatens, the prevailing moral code. The new gene
ration learns of this code not only through socialization
within the home but also through Islamic education.
Though the balance is probably now shifting, it is arguable
that Islamic school (madrosah) education in Kelompok re
mains as important as secular state education, both for boys
and for girls. Many children attend the madrosah in the
afternoons, after secular schooling in the mornings. Even
at secular school, religious education is given a priority,
and local Islamic leaders are engaged as teachers. Apart
from school, the youth are encouraged to join in social
activities organized by the Mosque (e.g. choirs and
pageants for major festivals such as Maulud) and to reject,
for example, the attractions of the cinema in town. Though
boys enjoy their traditional freedom to taste such delights,
provided they continue ultimately to respect the authority
of their parents and the Mosque, the night-life of the town
remains virtually prohibited to girls.
30. Zuidberg, 1975, op. cit., p. 31.
31. Prasadja and Sumhudi, 1975, op. cit.
The public attitude deemed most appropriate for women is
"malu." This refers to both the mental and physical at
titudes of women, encouraging them to appear shy, embar
rassed and retiring, deferring to superiors and remaining at
a distance from them, averting their eyes, and so on. Wo
men are also encouraged to feel afraid (takut) of new ex
periences and new people. The opposite .. berani" applies
to behavior which is assertive and forceful, and this is
considered most inappropriate, even dangerous, for the
women of Kelompok, though as with much that is danger
ous it holds its own fascination. Although only the wives
and daughters of extremely orthodox (santri) households,
usually more wealthy landowners and traders, are com
paratively secluded and remain mostly at home, apart from
visits to the nearby Mosque, any strongly independent
spirit in a woman or among women is strictly limited. The
attitudes of malu and takut encourage women to identify
themselves publicly with their husbands (ikut suami) or
fathers (ikut bapak) and not to cooperate together outside
of the limited spheres of the home or harvesting, or outside
the supervision of the Islamic authorities. The onlyorgani
zations which exist specifically for women are the Islamic
women's council (Majlis Tak'lim) and communal Qu'uran
reading sessions (ngajih). The secular women's organiza
tions which had begun to penetrate the rural areas before
1965 have been completely dismantled. Even in women's
trade, there is no evidence of the capital-sharing groups
(arisan) now common among urban bourgeois women. In
sum, however they behave in the confines of their domestic
life, in public Kelompok women do not gather together to
organize their own lives, but are separated, each identified
with reference to the men who dominate and to whom they
defer.
The Islamic Patriarchy and the Factories
By recruiting young people, especially young girls,
from these hamlets [of Kelompok] into the factories, the
industrial capitalists are able to make use of the traditional
forms of subordination ofwomen to men, and youth to age,
to create a labor force that is relatively easy to dominate.
The young girls entering the factories consistently repeat
that they feel malu and takut, so deferential to their bosses
(usually men) that direct confrontation, individually or in
groups, is almost unthinkable. They say that they are too
malu to be straightforward about any grievances, too takut
to complain about low payor about unfair treatment, and
would rather leave the factory than "make trouble" ( .. dari
pada bikin ribut, lebih baik pulang saja"). They show an
unwillingness, based on their inexperience, to organize
togther and it is easy for the management to atomize them
and isolate one from another, to dismiss those who "create
scenes" or engage in other types of inappropriate behavior
(berani). In these ways relations of subordination in village
life before the arrival of the factories can be transferred
directly into the labor process of the new factories.
Factory managers have yet more ways of keeping the
workers from the local villages under control. For example,
they employ local male dignitaries (tokoh ), sometimes from
the village-level (desa) administration (every jaro head of
the fourteen hamlets in Kelompok was hired by one or
more factories in his locality), but also from the local
13
Islamic leadership, including several men honored by the
title kiyai (teacher), some Mosque functionaries, and many
respected hajis (who have made the pilgrimage to Mecca).
These men are used to recruit laborers for the factories and
to ensure peace in the surrounding hamlets. Contact is
made, for example, by inviting the tokoh of the nearby
hamlets to a meal to celebrate the building of a particular
factory (slametan, potong kambing, potong kerbau), where
willing tokoh can be identified and enlisted. Interviews with
such dignitaries in Kelompok revealed that a substantial
proportion of them were retained by local factories. As
labor agents, they may provide a factory with its initial
labor force, being requested to supply, say, 100 girls from
their local area, and thereafter re-recruiting as required.
Each labor agent is paid a retainer (salary) or a commission
for his efforts. As security agents Uago keamanan), they are
responsible to the factories for ensuring peace in their
hamlets, for which they normally receive a monthly salary
(typically Rp.30,OOO).
Such local leaders who are employed by the factories
are able to select workers on the basis of personal contact,
probably a lifetime's knowledge of the workers' families,
and are in a very good position to filter out those who might
be "trouble-makers." Then, those workers whom they do
recruit become their" anak buah," clients in a relationship
of patronage.
32
These clients are warned not to make
trouble in the factories because this would give both them
and their patron a bad name, and this helps to prevent
workers from taking any action on their own behalf. As
security agents, the tokoh are also in an unrivalled position
to detect and attempt to eliminate potential trouble from
within the villages aimed at the factories. In these ways, the
tokoh leaders become mediators in the relationship not only
between the capitalists and their labor force in the factories
but also between the factories and the surrounding com
munities in general.
Such an alliance does not eliminate the airing of griev
ances by the industrial workers of Kelompok but it may be
one reason for the comparative lack of industrial action in
the factories here. In other industrial areas where strikes
and workers' organizations are now becoming common
32. As mentioned previously, not only are women subordinate to men but
also youth to age, and similarly of course employees to employers, on the
land as well as in the factories. As in some other areas of Java (see for
example Frans Husken, "Landlords, Sharecroppers and Agricultural
Labourers: Changing Labour Relations in Rural Java," Journal ofCon
temporary Asia. Vol. 9, No.2, 1979), in Kelompok during the post-1966
period, relationships of subordination have generally become characteri
zed by patronage and paternalism, masking and perhaps in reaction to the
more assertively antagonistic period of the early 1960s which led into the
mass violence of 1965-66. Ben Anderson (Java in a Time of Revolution,
Cornell University Press, Ithaca, 1972, p. 43, 16n) has described the
paternalistic 'bapak-anak buah' relationship with reference to men. G.1.
Hugo, ("Population Mobility in West Java," Indonesian Population Mono
graph Series No.2, Australian National University, Department of De
mography, Gadja Mada University Press, Yogyakarta, 1978, pp. 125 and
193) also refers to the importance of "tokoh" leaders and the "bapak-anak
buah" relationship in West Java villages. Through these agencies in
Kelompok today, not only are many young women being recruited into
the factories through clientage to "tokoh" but so are young men. It is
argued in this article here that young women workers are trebly subordi
nate, as client employees and as young people (similarly to young men),
but additionally as discussed in the preceding section, as women.
place, it may be that the incoming investors have not be
nefitted from a workforce subdued by Islamic patriarchs.
When workers in Kelompok do get upset about the condi
tions of their work, this more usually takes the form of mass
hysteria (as has been recorded also in Malaysia and Singa
pore). Occasionally production is held up by mass weeping,
or rumors that dangerous spirits infect the machinery or the
factory site (especially after a series of accidents). Such
sporadic and spontaneous outbursts are also from the patri
archal mold and are often resolved by bringing Islamic
leaders into the factories to calm the workers down again.
That state-appointed officials (in all three villages the
administration was not popularly elected) should ally
themselves with industrialization is to be expected; but it is
perhaps at first sight surprising that the indigenous Islamic
leadership should do so. One thinks, for example, of the
leaders of the Islamic revolution in Iran so clearly hostile to
the effect of capitalist industrialization on their society. In
Indonesian Islamic and nationalist circles too there is a
considerable body of opposition to the government's "de
velopment" program with its emphasis on outside, "west
ern"-led growth. It is quite conceivable that the leaders of
the established Islamic hierarchy in this part of West Java
would feel themselves threatened and react negatively. In
the rural areas, especially towards Banten, a strongly con
servative (kolot) stream of thought remains influential, and
Banten has a long history of rebellion against non-Islamic
influences. The patriarchs might well feel their position
undermined by the employment of large numbers of village
girls in the factories, which takes the girls away from the
domestic hearth and allows them to gather together, meet
"outsiders" and learn to exchange new aspirations. Such a
train of thought has been shared by many, including liberal
and Marxist progressives, who have encouraged incorpora
tion into the wage labor force precisely to spur on women's
emancipation.
The evidence from these villages shows that the matter
is just not that clear cut. Though there are influential village
people not reconciled to recent changes, one simply does
not find the level of conflict between conservative Islamic
elements and either industrial capital or labor to support
any such theoretical pronouncements about potential
emancipation. It is worth examining Why.
First let us consider what the village girls who work in
the factories themselves feel about their possible emanci
pation. There is no doubt that many of the girls regard
working in the factories as better than the alternative work
available to them, whether this be domestic work in their
own homes or as servants in other people's homes. Where
the conditions in factories are light and clean this is much
better than they might otherwise expect; where it is dirty
and the work very heavy this is no worse. For them, the
advantages of factory work include the fixed hours and the
opportunity to make friends with other workers. Domestic
service, by contrast, they say is intolerably hard work, for
uncertain and long hours, in isolation from family and
friends. It is a reflection of this attitude that the urban
bourgeoisie of Tangerang town now finds it extremely diffi
cult to get servants, needing to search in rural villages at
least twenty kilometers away to find candidates. The girls
also dislike working only at home, not so much because it is
hard work but because the social environment is limited to
14
family and close neighbors. There are senses, then, in
which the girls perceive changes for the better, though it
can be seen how limited these are. Their perceptions are a
reflection of the reality, for the conditions for their emanci
pation are indeed limited.
The girls who go into the factories are from landless or
land-short families that have always sought an income out
side the home. Factory work is thought as legitimate a way
as any for them to do this. The daughters of relatively
orthodox-and usually more wealthy families who were
traditionally secluded-do not go into the factories. Their
fathers actively discourage them and there are few who
express a desire to get a factory job. Factory recruitment,
then, makes little change in this state of affairs. Just as work
outside the home did not mitigate against women's subor
dination before the factories arrived, nor does it now.
Within the factories the girls are in a highly controlled
environment, supervised by men managers and overseers.
Outside the factories they return to their homes, where as
wives, mothers, sisters and daughters they are still subor
dinated. Since the factories are built on the edge of, or even
within, their own hamlets there is not even a long journey
home which the girls might make their own. Moreover,
employment in the factories is only temporary, each girl
working only for a few years until her first child is born. The
girls also move from factory to factory so that in four years'
industrial employment a girl will probably have been
through as many factories. For these reasons, the girls have
little chance to learn new ways over a long period. Mate
rially too, they are little better off than they were. After
contributing towards household expenses, there is almost
nothing for a girl to spend on herself, let alone contribute
towards any material independence. The payment of low
wages remains within the traditional view that women's
cash income is supplementary rather than central, and
wages are so low that these girls are forced to remain
dependent upon their families for survival. Female labor,
undervalued prior to the arrival of the factories, remains so
today.
Therefore, the employment of young women from
Kelompok in factories under these conditions does not
particularly interfere with their domestication, and does
not necessarily threaten the patriarchy. Indeed there is a
convergence of opinion between the incoming capitalists
and the Islamic patriarchy, who both see women as submis
sive, dominated objects. Individual Islamic leaders can
therefore justify encouraging this form of recruitment for
their own gain without serious challenge to their own views
concerning women. The patriarchs only show serious con
cern if factory work is likely to jeopardize the control of
women's sexuality. For example, some factories wish to
employ women on the night shift. This is restricted by law
on health grounds (Law No.1 1951), but neither factory
managers nor local tokoh consider health a problem.
Rather, tokoh believe that employing girls at night may
threaten the moral code, and they press the industrial
managers either to employ all men on the night shift (even
though this raises the wage bill) or to employ girls only from
the immediately neighboring hamlet under the supervision
of a man from their own community, typically someone
with respected religious status. The nightwatchman Uago
keamanan ma/am) has less to do with preventing theft of
equipment than guarding the morality of the girl workers,
and that includes keeping an eye on the factory managers
themselves.
It is also clear that what we are examining here are the
social patterns brought about after only a few years of
industrialization. What may be the longer term social
changes is impossible to predict, but we can note some
possibilities and trends in the future status of women in
Kelompok caused by their employment in factories. The
girls are likely to learn from their new experiences of mak
ing a wider circle of friends, and of new forms of social
organization where they are treated in collectivities of
workers, such as shifts, rather than as individuals. Their
public identity may change away from close identification
with their fathers and husbands. They may well learn to
take initiatives together. Moreover, their wage-earning po
tential as daughters, or the strain of low factory wages
which do not support the children they bear as wives, may
lead to a weakening of household structures, to later mar
riage and child-bearing ages. It is the worry of many young
workers that they cannot afford to marry and, if they do, to
raise children. A pregnancy where both mother and father
work in factories, let alone where the father is unemployed,
can be a disaster. Such changes in "family life" could come
to reflect on the patriarchy itself, and perhaps lead to a
greater independence for women. It is, however, too early
to prove or predict any certain trends in this direction.
Migrant Workers
In these villages of Kelompok, as in other industrial
areas, there are now many migrants (orang merantau) who
have been attracted by the prospect of jobs, and it is not
unreasonable to imagine that they might have a consider
able effect on social relationships in the villages, on the
partiarchy organized by the tokoh. Many have come from
very distant areas of Java, Sulawesi, Sumatra and Bali;
some of them are not Islamic but are Christian or Hindu.
They do not come from the more "domesticated" and
subordinated sections of Kelompok society and, unlike the
workers raised in these villages, they apparently enter the
factories as "free" workers, that is free of traditional con
straints, under contractual relationships only to their in
dustrial employers. Owning no allegiance to the tokoh, it is
quite possible that they would be disruptive to both the
patriarchy in the villages and the discipline in the factories
established in alliance with that patriarchy. How then do
the tokoh and managers cope with the migrants?
The migrants living in Kelompok can be divided into
three categories. First, there are the wives and sisters of
soldiers stationed in the Battalion situated in one of the
villages. These will not concern us here except to note that
many of them do work in the factories and, being under the
authority of a military command, even if only indirectly,
they provide another form of subdued labor. Second, there
are many migrants living in dormitories inside factory com
pounds. These too we will leave to one side, although it is
worth mentioning that these dormitories are a great cause
for concern for the village Islamic authorities. Rumors
abound about the "inadequate supervision" of single-sex
dormitories that are "too close together" leading to "im
morality" and unwanted pregnancies. Apart from making
15
\
I
representations to the management to "regularize" the
situation, and requesting government officials to make in
spections, the Islamic authorities have no control over what
happens in the dormitories, and the issue continues to
smolder.
Third, there are the migrants who live in the villages.
Not every hamlet has large numbers of migrants living
there, but in those that are closest to the main road there
are substantial numbers, even as high as 30 percent of the
adult population. Some migrants comprise married
couples, with or without children, but by far the majority
are young, single people, both men and women
33
who tend
to stay only temporarily for a few months or a year or two.
Some single men have no permanent lodgings but move
around to sleep in the verandahs offriends' houses or in the
mosques or prayer houses (langgar), as young men of the
village themselves do. Married couples and sometimes
groups of men only or of brothers and sisters rent whole
houses. But the majority, including all the long single girls
that I interviewed, rent rooms either within the homes of
indigenous people or, and this is a growing trend, in com
plexes of rooms built by tokoh close to or surrounding their
own homes, from which the tokoh gather considerable rent.
By contrast to indigenous workers, many of these
migrants stand out as straightforward, openly friendly and
approachable, not at all malu or takut. Frequently they have
a higher education level than the indigenous youth. They
have come from far afield, often upon their own initiative,
and in the case of girls sometimes having left home to avoid
an arranged marriage. For these young women to have left
their natal home against their parents' wishes is enough in
itself to classify them as be rani . They tend to adopt styles of
dress, make-up and hair-cut that are considered "modem"
(bright, synthetic dress, even shorts and sleeveless tops).
They laugh and chat openly with young men from their
factories, occasionally go in groups to the cinema in town.
It might be thought that these migrants, behaving in such a
contrasting manner to the indigenous youth, represent a
source of antagonism with those interested in preserving
the existing code of female subordination. Such conflict has
been recorded in Penang, Malaysia,34 yet in these villages
of West Java it was remarkable how little antagonism
seemed to exist.
We have noted that many girls rent rooms within the
homes of the local population. Here they are often treated
less as lodgers than as daughters (and this includes the
Christian girls as well as Muslims). They become domesti
cated, doing chores and helping to look after children
during their time off. Though they frequently do this in
return for extra food as a way to supplement their meager
wages, they willingly enter into such a family relationship
33. The 1973 LEKNAS (Indonesian National Institute of Economic and
Social Research) survey of migration to fourteen Javanese cities found
that about 70 percent of both men and women migrants were under
twenty-five years old, with the largest proportion in the fifteen to eighteen
age bracket. Fifty-eight to 59 percent of men and women were without
spouses (single, divorced, or widowed). See Bisrat Aklilu and John R.
Harris, "Migration, Employment and Earnings," in Papanek (ed.), 1980,
op. cit., Tables 5.2 and 5.4.
34. M. Blake, "A Case Study of Women in Industry," UN Asian and
Pacific Centre for Women and Development, Bangkok, 1980.
for the protection this can give them against their vulnera
bility in this male-dominated society. This is the case also
for girls renting rooms in complexes, where the owner
usually presides over his charges in a paternal manner while
his wife treats them with motherly care.
The return part of such a bargain is that the girls'
sexuality becomes the concern of their new "family." They
are expected to respect the mores of the hamlet and show
restraint, in particular entertaining their men friends only
in the public arena ofthe front verandah. Some ofthe girls
complain that they are expected to be "whiter than the
white" and achieve a higher moral standard than is the case
for indigenous daughters. But girls who are unwilling to
accept this discipline are first subject to innuendo and
rumor, then ostracized and eventually told to leave the
hamlet.
With migrants as with indigenous workers, the effects
of a low wage regime reveal the tensions in the alliance
between patriarchs and capitalists. We have seen how the
village girls need to stay with their families and eat from
what others provide in order to be able to live on such low
wages. Migrant workers do not usually have their families
with them; they must somehow either exist on their wage
alone, or supplement it from some other source. As men
tioned, some do domestic work in their "time off" in return
for food; others receive regular gifts of money and clothing
if they are lucky enough to have a relative elsewhere able to
send these. But girls who have no other means to support
themselves do also take to prostitution. Within the villages
themselves there was little evidence of this, for it was not
tolerated by Islamic leaders within their own communities.
However, the Battalion and the local town were nearby,
where destitute girls could easily be absorbed as prosti
tutes. Therefore girls who can no longer support them
selves except by prostitution leave the villages, to be re
placed by new arrivals who will in their tum be told to
conform or leave. Only by making destitute migrant girls
into social outcasts can the patriarchs continue their control
over women's sexuality in the hamlets on the one hand and
the capitalists their control over the wage rate on the other.
The girls are the expendable element in this accommoda
tion of interests.
We have also noted that young migrant men often
conform to the existing patterns of behavior expected of
the local young men. Were they to rent rooms in private
houses, this might be a threat to the privatization of
women's sexuality. Instead, they do not usually move in
unless they marry in. Moreover, by using the mosques they
come under the authority of the functionaries and the male
ummat (Islamic community). If they live in complexes, they
too are subject to the paternal supervision of the tokoh.
Furthermore, most factory jobs are not available in the free
labor market, but must be obtained through a "contact"
already inside the factory to speak on one's behalf. There
fore male as well as female migrants must either seek the
friendship of a wide circle of other workers, or, in the case
of many factories, be hired through a labor agent. Client
age to such an agent then also brings them into the patri
archy, into subordinated relationships with the tokoh.
Thus, instead of presenting a challenge to the patri
archy, many migrants are in one way or another being
drawn into it, and so their arrival, in great numbers is not as
16
threatening to the prevailing social order as might at first
sight have been thought. Migrants do tend to be much more
outspoken than their indigenous counterparts; some of
them reveal great resentment at their treatment within the
factories and speak with despair at the unwillingness of the
village youth to understand the need for solidary industrial
action. Some also understand how being bonded to a labor
agent inhibits them from taking the action they want to.
Yet I found no evidence that they had thought about their
incorporation into the "family life" of the hamlets as prob
lematic in this respect. Even so we can suggest that the
domestication of migrant workers into village life can pro
vide an effective brake on their industrial militancy in ways
similar to those applying to indigenous workers.
We discussed earlier some of the contradictory ways in
which capital, while strengthening the Islamic patriarchy,
may at the same time be undermining it. Changes in the
social order on which the power of the patriarchs rests may
lead to possible changes in women's subordination. It is
now possible for us to outline several more examples of this
social process.
It is clear that the presence of so many young migrants
will influence future changes in social relationships in these
villages, even if again this will be in ways that are not
possible to predict. We can already see certain indications.
For example, indigenous girls are fascinated by the
"berani" behavior of the migrants, and have begun imitat
ing them even if only in tentative ways. Religious teachers
in their speeches warn against increasing "immorality"
among village youth such as visiting the local town in the
evenings. They urge parents to encourage children to read
religious texts instead in the evenings after their day at
the factory. Moreover, marriages to outsiders (to both men
and women migrants) are now quite common; over time
this is likely to lead to increased mobility in the search for
jobs, taking both sons and daughters away permanently.
Meanwhile, still more migrants flow in, and this population
flow is not conducive to maintaining the traditional patri
archal order which, being based on paternalism, can only
be maintained through long-term familial or pseudo-famil
ial bonds.
Furthermore, as tokoh continue to expand their in
terest in rented accommodation, they will themselves begin
to break down the patriarchy upon which their own present
power rests. It will not be possible for them to preside in the
same paternal manner over many complexes, or over com
plexes which are built further away from their own homes.
Indeed, some of these tokoh are now moving their homes
away, into the neighboring town. There are also the first
signs of other urban rentiers investing in housing com
plexes for workers. Such absentee landlords would clearly
not have the same interest in preserving local moral codes;
what guarantees would there be that they would not let
rooms to mixed sexes? Also, as we have seen, factory jobs
here are insecure. Yet the security of a long-term relation
ship is the essence of paternalism. Therefore, those tokoh
who have become labor agents on the basis of their pater
nalistic position within the villages will find this position put
under strain. They will lose standing when their promises of
a "good job" are broken through lay-offs. The relationship
between paternal patron and client is in direct contrast to
the contractual relation between industrial employer and
employee. If, as industrialization continues, contractual
relationships prevail, the basis on which the tokoh recruit
workers will change accordingly.
So, the allegiance of some of these village leaders is
changing, from their original interests in land, trade and
paternalistic labor relations, to industrial capital, rent and
contractual relations. Not only are some enjoying a wel
come new source of capital accumulation through rented
accommodation and commissions but a few are even now
beginning to participate in the ownership of factories, en
tering into joint ventures with domestic industrial capital.
Meanwhile, others from among the indigenous Islamic
leadership are less happy; finding their traditional means of
authority undermined, they are showing signs of being
disillusioned about industrial development and the changes
it brings. Their anxiety is particularly directed towards the
domination by "foreign" (asing, a term which includes
domestic Chinese) interests in their area, specifically with
regard to the control and use of land and water (including
pollution), and to the perceived non-Islamic moral and
cultural threat to "their" social order. Visiting teachers
(kiyai) who preach of social and moral decay since the
coming of the factories are enthusiastically received by
their male audience (women are present but sit passively to
one side); they clearly strike a chord in the minds of many
members of the ummat. The network of Islamic institutions,
comprising the mosques, schools and sects, is today the
only form of organization reaching into the villages with the
potential for the expression of collective disaffection. The
possibility exists, then, of an Islamic movement antago
nistic to the current industrial development, but one based
on conservative principles of traditional (private) property
and social relations, including class and gender subordina
tion. Whether under capitalist relations represented by the
"industrialized" tokoh or under the patriarchal order of an
Islamic movement, the prospects for Kelompok women to
gain autonomy over their own lives remain dim.
Conclusion
The arrival of industrialization in the western part of
the hinterland ofJakarta during the 1970s has done much to
change the public political and economic trends there.
Nonetheless, little in the domestic lives of the people has as
yet changed. In particular, the subordination of women as
daughters, wives and mothers has been reinforced; for, in
order to establish a labor force that is cheap and docile, to
avoid a free labor market with the industrial militancy
which seems to accompany it in other industrial areas, the
managers of the industrial capital invested in these villages
have chosen to enter into alliance with the Islamic patri
archs there. These village notables are engaged as labor
agents and security guards and are able to use their special
position within village life on behalf of the factories. Shar
ing an ideology of women and youngsters as dominated
objects, this alliance has been successful in establishing a
more subdued workforce and a lower wage rate than are
general in other areas. Even the influence of large numbers
of young single migrants in these villages has been muted
by domesticating them. For the women of these villages
industrialization has not led to greater freedom, and there
is little to persuade us to be optimistic. *
17
" Agricultural Involution' '. and its Critics:
Twenty Years After
by Benjamin White*
Twenty years have passed since the publication of
Clifford Geertz' Agricultural Involution: the Processes ofEco
logical Change in Indonesia (1963), a work whose basic
arguments had already circulated in mimeograph seven
years earlier (Geertz 1956a). ** Initial reactions in the
West, from a variety of disciplines, were almost unanimous
in praise (Sharma 1964; Wertheim 1964; Heeren 1965;
Jaspan 1965; Benda 1966; Johns 1966; Yengoyan 1966;
Conklin 1968), although reviews by Indonesian scholars,
mostly appearing after the book's translation to Indonesian
(Geertz 1976) were more muted (Koentjaraningrat 1975:
202ff; Sajogyo 1976; Mubyarto 1978). "Involution" has by
now become "a standard concept of textbook social sci
ence" (Evers 1980: 2) and has been used in a wide variety of
rural and urban contexts in other countries to denote a
particular variety of non-evolutionary, non-revolutionary
change. Together with the linked concept of "shared pov
erty" it has become part of the everyday discourse of In
donesian policymakers and the educated middle class (in
cluding the majority who have not read Geertz' work), and
there is no doubt that it has had a profound influence on all
subsequent social-science research, both historical and
contemporary, on agrarian change in Indonesia and partic
ularly Java. Nearly all published work since that time has
either made use of the concepts of "involution" and
"shared poverty" or cast its findings explicitly in contrast to
them. As one recent author has noted, "reference to Agri
cultural Involution can hardly be avoided whether or not
one agrees with Geertz' approach" and the concern with
Geertzian models has become almost "obsessive" (Gerdin
1982: 56).
The past fifteen years, meanwhile, have also seen a
large flow of criticism of various aspects of Geertz' book,
* Discussions over the years with Paul Alexander, Chris Baks, Jan Bre
man, Peter Carey, Alec Gordon, Frans Husken, Willem Wertheim and
Willem Wolters have helped to clarify some of the ideas in this paper.
Translations from foreign-language publications are my own.
* * Because of the large number of references in this overview, the bibliog
raphy is assembled at the end of the paper rather than in footnotes. This
exception to BCAS style was requested by the author.
some based on original research and some-like Agricul
tural Involution itself-on available literature. Many of
these criticisms appear in studies not primarily directed to
that purpose, but a number of recent publications have
been explicitly framed as criticism of one or other aspect of
the book (for example Aass n.d.; Elson 1978; Kana 1980;
Collier 1981a, 1981b; Knight 1982; and Alexander and
Alexander 1978, 1979, and 1982 in a series of articles which
qualify the Alexanders for the title of chief Geertz-bashers,
with a promise of still more to come). Much of this work has
appeared in out-of-the-way publications and it may be
useful to provide in this paper a brief summary of the main
lines of criticism, as well as some overall assessment of the
scientific validity of "involution" as a framework for the
study of agrarian change in Indonesia.
Re-reading Agricultural Involution (AI hereafter) now
adays, it is hard to understand why this little book should
have caught the imagination of a generation of Western
social scientists and Indonesian intellectuals and policy
makers, indeed why it should have had any great influence
at all. The backbone of the book is a brief summary, based
on Dutch authors, of colonial policies for the extraction of
export crops with heavy emphasis on the island of java.
Despite its usefulness in making this material available to
English-language readers, replacing the earlier works of
Day (1904) and Furnivall (1939), there is no new informa
tion or original research on Indonesian agrarian history
here (nor did its author claim so). The historical chapters
are sandwiched between a theoretical section on "The
Ecological Approach in Anthropology" and a general de
scription of Indonesia's "Two Types of Ecosystems" by
way of introduction, and a concluding chapter on "Com
parisons and Prospects'" based on comparison of Japan's
success and Java's failure to achieve economic "take-off'
as defined by such once-popular economists as Rostow
(1960). This comparison has been widely criticized, and the
"ecological approach," as Geertz himself notes at the end
of the book, does not take us far in the search for "the true
diagnosis of the Indonesian malaise" (AI: 154).
Despite Geertz' own ambivalence on the explanatory
potential of the ecological approach, AI does appear to
represent a peculiar ecological or even cultural-materialist
18
trend in the larger corpus of Geertz' prolific work on
Indonesia and other places. Geertz is primarily known
among social scientists for his injection of a third "stream"
into the American anthropological tradition (besides the
"American" stream of Boas, Kroeber, Lowie and their
successors and the "French/British" stream of structural
and structural-functional anthropology), derived from
Max Weber by way of Geertz' teacher Talcott Parsons (cf.
Peacock, 1981). This approach may be seen in his major
works on the religion of Java (1960), on the "theatre state"
in nineteenth-century Bali (1980) and in the collection of
essays on "the interpretation of cultures" (1973) which
comes closest to a general exposition of "Geertzian anthro
pology."
Geertz' basically Parsonian framework, with its em
phasis on elucidating the cultural meanings of human
action, fits in well with the "modernization" school popular
in the field of development sociology and political science
in the 1950s and 1960s, with its emphasis on "modernizing"
versus "traditional" attitudes and values, on social and
economic "dualism" and on "diffusion." Why then did
such an author as Andre Gunder Frank, in his well-known
polemic against the "modernization" school single out Ag
ricultural Involution (together with works by Wertheim and
Marx, among others!) as having demonstrated the theoret
ical and empirical inadequacy of the dualist theory and the
diffusionist and other theses based on it, as developed and
practiced by Geertz' own mentors and colleagues (1973:
62f)-among them Bert Hoselitz and Benjamin Higgins,
the latter perhaps unaware of what was being done to him
when he provided the foreword to AI? How can Gunder
Frank and Higgins like the same book? I think it can be
argued that Agricultural Involution, although seemingly fo
cused on such down-to-earth phenomena as the warm
water ecology of the flooded paddy field, Dutch colonial
extractive policies, relations between sugar cultivation,
How can so much uncritical admiration have been
devoted to a work emphasizing the absence ofagrarian
differentiation, the sharing of poverty, the "flaccid
indeterminateness" and "advance toward vague
ness" of Javanese viUage society, to a work which
appeared precisely at the moment when large-scale
agrarian conflicts of a pronounced class character
were reaching their height, culminating only two years
later in the violent crushing of militant small-peasant
and landless-worker organizations by the army and
Muslim youth-groups associated with the landowning
classes, who joined in the massacre of hundreds of
thousands of men and women?
population densities and paddy yields and the complexity
of agrarian relations in Java, is not such a departure from
"mainstream" Geertz as many have thought. On closer
reading the main factors held responsible by Geertz for
continuing agrarian stagnation in Java (if not for its colonial
origins)-the absence of agrarian differentiation and the
"sharing of poverty"-are seen as basically a matter of
world-view, attitudes and values, that is as a problem of
(psycho )-cultural rather than ecological, technological or
even political-economic impasse.
Having mentioned "shared poverty" I should note one
further peculiar aspect of reactions to Agricultural Involu
tion, although this involves anticipating arguments to be
made later. How can so much uncritical admiration have
been devoted in the late 1960s to a work emphasizing the
absence of agrarian differentiation, the sharing of poverty,
the "flaccid indeterminateness" and "advance towards
vagueness" (AI: 1oof.) of Javanese village society, to a
work which appeared precisely at the moment when large
scale agrarian conflicts of a pronounced class character
were reaching their height, culminating only two years later
in the violent crushing of militant small-peasant and land
less-worker organizations by the army and Muslim youth
groups associated with the landowning classes, who joined
in the massacre of hundreds of thousands of men and
women (cf. Lyon 1970; Mortimer 1972; Wertheim 1969)?
"Involution" as a General Organizing Concept
Geertz borrowed the term "involution" from the
American anthropologist Alexander Goldenweiser (1936)
to describe the peculiar adaptation of Javanese peasant
society to a colonial system designed to extract land, labor,
produce and money taxes from village economy, using a
variety of methods at different times and places. "Involu
tion" means basically the internal elaboration and rigidifi
cation of a basic pattern, rather than a change from one
pattern to another-"the overdriving of an established
form in such a way that it becomes rigid through an inward
overelaboration of detail" (AI: 82). Geertz contrasted it
with the evolutionary or revolutionary "take-off" occur
ring in parts of "Outer Indonesia": "As the bulk of the
Javanese peasants moved toward agricultural involution,
Laborers appear at the field of a large landowner. pressing to join in the
shared poverty, social elasticity, and cultural vagueness, a
harvest. Police are sometimes called to disperse the crowd. (Richard W.
1:'..~ " 1 r p \
t9
cut with a small
knife or ani-ani. In the mid-1970s reports began to appear oflandowners using
sickles and curtailing the number ofharvesters. (Richard W. Franke)
small minority of the Outer Island peasants moved toward
agricultural specialization, frank individualism, social con
flict, and cultural rationalization" (AI: 123).
Before summarizing and evaluating the various con
crete components which for Geertz make up the Javanese
peasantry's involutionary response to colonial extractive
policies, it is worth considering the usefulness of "involu
tion" as a general organizing concept to characterize a
particular, inward-turning type of change; one that may
fruitfully be contrasted with "evolution" (gradual, "un
folding" change from one pattern to another, the emer
gence of a new form on the basis of an old one) and with
"revolution" (abrupt, "overturning," violent or radical
change from one form to another). Such general contrasts
between types of change might be usefully applied in the
sphere of productive technology, production relations or
social organization, in art, language, music, religious ex
pression, or patterns of deference, etc. (cf. Goldenweiser's
original use of the term in the field of primitive art). It is in
this general taxonomic way that many authors have found
the notion of "involution" useful in a wide variety of con
texts: "urban involution" (Armstrong & McGee 1971) and
"the parasitic involution of capitalism" (Pieris 1970) in
Asian cities; "religious involution" in Mentawai (Schefold
1976); "industrial involution" in parts of nineteenth
century England (Levine 1977: Ch. 4); involution in "semi
peripheral" European economies during the seventeenth
century (Romano 1974; cf. Wallerstein 1980); "agricultural
involution" in Javanese (but not Balinese) transmigration
settlements in Lampung (Zimmerman 1980); and as one
courageous Indonesian writer has described the govern
ment-sponsored national Koran-reading competition
(Musabaqot Tilawatil Quran), "cultural involution" (Su'ud
1980).
The usefulness of the concept of involution in classify
ing different tyeps of change (i.e. as a taxonomic concept)
is quite a different question from consideration of its ap
plicability in a specific historical context, the issue on which
these notes will focus. Since AI is often marked by elegance
rather than clarity in presentation, I will first try to sum
marize what Geertz said about colonial policies in Java and
the peasantry's involutional response, mainly with the aid
of some rather well-worn quotations.
Components of Agricultural Involution (1):
Colonial Policies
Dutch colonial systems of extraction in Java, which at
times during the nineteenth century provided as much as
one-third of all the Netherlands state revenues (Fasseur
1975: 204) are described by Geertz in terms of the super
imposition of colonial export-crop economy on an indigen
ous subsistence economy, in two main forms. First, during
the so-called cultuurstelsel or "Cultivation System" (\830
1870) under which extraction was essentially based on co
lonial appropriation of the right of the sovereign to a por
tion of the peasant's land and/or labor and/or produce in
exchange for his right to cultivate that land, this right was
taken over by the Dutch from indigenous rulers by con
quest or treaties which mainly involved their paying-off
with a system of money allowances. The conventional
formula (which we may see for example in the writings of
Governor-General van den Bosch) was the remission of
peasants' land-rent in exchange for his cultivating govern
ment-owned export crops on one-fifth of his land, or pro
viding one-fifth of his labor-time on government estates or
other projects. There is much debate on how the system
worked in practice; recent historical research suggests that
it was not so much one "system" as a complex variety of
local arrangements by which both the Dutch and indigen
ous rulers extracted as much as they could, often much
more than the "one-fifth" just mentioned (Elson 1978;
Knight 1982; van NieI1964, 1968).
This forty-year period is for Geertz the "decisive" era
in Javanese colonial history, which "stabilized and accentu
ated the dual economy pattern of a capital-intensive West
ern sector and a labor-intensive Eastern one by rapidly
developing the first and rigidly stereotyping the second ...
and ... prevented the effects on Javanese peasantry and
gentry alike of an enormously deeper Western penetration
into their life from leading to autochthonous agricultural
modernization at the point it could most easily have oc
curred" (AI: 53). Thus, "although the Javanese helped
launch the estate sector, they were not properly part of it: it
was just something they did, or more exactly were obli
gated to do, in their spare time" (AI: 69).
The Cultivation System was formally brought to an
end by the passage of the Agrarian Law in 1870 (which in
fact codified developments already in motion) ushering in
the so-called Corporate Plantation System whereby indi
vidual corporations were granted the long-term lease of
uplands for the creation of coffee, tea and rubber estates
using wage labor (i. e. a conventional plantation system
which up to that time had been largely absent from the
scene). In the lowland sugarcane areas, the sugar mills still
had no direct or continued access to land but instead leased
irrigated paddy-fields on a short-term rotational basis from
peasants and again cultivated it with "free" wage labor.
Speaking of these changes, Geertz notes that the "mutual
20
istic" relationship between the subsistence and commercial
sectors does not change essentially "if forced labor is re
placed by paid labor, if land is rented rather than its use
appropriated as a form of taxation, and if private entre
preneurs replace governmental managers. Then it becomes
a matter of holding down money rents and wages, and
avoiding the formation of a true proletariat without the
productive means with which to provide its own subsis
tence" (Al: 58).
Taking a broad view and leaving aside the specifics for
a moment, we may see that Geertz has described some
thing familiar to anyone acquainted with the past two dec
ades of literature on colonial "modes of production" all
over the world. He has described a system which extracted
products cheaply for capital by maintaining the subsistence
sector at a low level of technology and labor-productivity
and under various constraints rather than destroying it in
favor of capitalist agriculture, so that labor for export-crop
production in the "other" sector is obtainable at low cost, a
part (or all in the case of forced labor) of the costs of its
reproduction being borne by the subsistence sector. The
mechanisms by which this labor is drawn into export-crop
production may vary from one colonial or neocolonial re
gime to another, or as we have just seen from one period to
another in the same country, but their basic function is the
same. It is this kind of view of the Javanese colonial experi
ence which perhaps explains why Gunder Frank (but not
why Higgins) likes the book, and why it has sometimes
figured in Marxist debates on the "articulation" of modes
of production in colonial contexts (cf. Barbalet 1976;
Taylor 1979).
Components of Agricultural Involution (2):
The Involutional Response
Although many authors justly complain of Geertz'
failure to provide clear, operational and testable defini
tions of "agricultural involution" -a failure partly due to
Geertz' preference for evocative similes and metaphors
rather than direct concrete statements, which makes the
book so delightful to read the first time and so infuriating
thereafter-the basic components of the involutionary re
sponse to colonial policies are relatively clear. They may be
divided into those which Geertz regards as providing the
ecological basis for involution, and "involution" itself
which we may again divide into its separate components,
following and further developing van den Muijzenberg's
(1975) distinction between the "productive" and the "dis
tributive" aspects of involution.
The ecological bases of involution according to Geertz
were twofold. First, the remarkable capacity of the irri
gated rice-terrace (sawah) ecosystem to respond to labor
intensification without loss of soil fertility, absorbing in
creased numbers of cultivators per unit of land and provid
ing increased per-hectare production but with only- stable
(and perhaps declining) output per unit of labor: "It seems
almost always possible to squeeze just a little more out of
. . . sawah by working it just a little bit harder . . . the
capacity of most terraces to respond to loving care is amaz
ing" (Al: 35). Second, there is the ecologically symbiotic or
mutualistic quality of the main export and subsistence
crops, sugarcane and paddy.
,
I
!
I
I
Sugar demands irrigation (and drainage) and a general
environment almost identical to that for wet rice (AI:
55).... The expansion of the one side, sugar cultivation,
brings with it the expansion of the other, wet-rice growing.
The more numerous and better-irrigated the terraces are, the
more sugar can be grown; and the more people-a sea
sonal, readily-available, resident labor force (a sort ofpart
time proletariat)-supported by those terraces during the
nonsugar part ofthe cycle, can grow sugar (AI: 56/.).
Given these ecological bases, the involutional re
sponse of the Javanese consisted of several interrelated
components. On the productive side, first, there was the
intensification of labor in subsistence production, "an in
tensification made both possible and necessary by the in
creasing population" (Al: 77), which maintained per-capita
rice production at around 100 kilograms throughout the
nineteenth century. Next, there was a generally increasing
complexity on both the productive or technological and the
social or distributional side. In the techniques of rice pro
duction, "pregermination, transplantation, more thorough
land preparation, fastidious planting and weeding, razor
blade harvesting, double-cropping, a more exact regula
tion of terrace-flooding, and the addition of more fields at
the edge of volcanoes" (Al: 77f.) occurred, a "technical
hairsplitting" which was matched by increased institutional
complexity in land-tenure arrangements and in agrarian
relations generally. In the sugarcane areas there was
strengthening of so-called communal ownership tenure
systems in which the village assigns use-rights to individuals
(which may be relatively permanent and heritable) but
exercises various residual rights of control, for example in
complex rotation schemes giving the sugar mills access to
whole blocks of land without completely depriving peasant
After harvesting, the paddy is bundled and carried to the owner's house for
drying. The only wage paid is J110 share ofthe bundle. Over the past J()() years
this share to the harvester has been decreasing. (Richard W. Fra,lke)
21
Almost every element ofthe Geertzian picture encoun
ters serious difficulties when confronted with the avail
able evidence.
families of land for subsistence cultivation (AI: 90f.). Fur
thermore, "a marked elaboration and expansion of the
system of labor relations" took place, as shown
III the intricacy and flexibility of arrangements for the
leasing, sharecropping and pawning of land, and in such
labor arrangements as "subcontracting, ... jobbing,
work-exchange, collective harvesting and, latterly wage
work" (AI: 98f.). '
According to Geertz one major consequence and per
haps a cause of this internal elaboration of agrarian rela
tions was its distributional or welfare function, in elaborat
ing and extending the
mechanisms through which agricultural product was spread,
if not altogether evenly, at least relatively so, throughout the
huge human horde which was obliged to subsist on it. Under
the pressure of increasing numbers and limited resources
Javanese village society did not bifurcate, as did that of so
many" underdeveloped" nations, into a group oflarge land
lords and a group of oppressed near-serfs. Rather it main
tained a comparatively high degree of social and economic
homogeneity by dividing the economic pie into a steadily
increasing number of minute pieces, a process to which I
have referred elsewhere as shared poverty" (AI: 97. The
reference is to Geertz 1956b).
These are the elements which according to Geertz
made up the involutionary response of Javanese rural soci
ety, a "treading water" pattern of change which he consid
to have continued beyond the nineteenth century and
mto the early Independence period. It was an internal
elaboration of infinitely complex labor-intensive tech
niques in agriculture, of agrarian relations functioning to
spread employment opportunities and the agricultural
product among a burgeoning population "all in an effort to
provide everyone with some niche, however small, in the
over-all system" (AI: 82). This process of elaboration in the
technology and organization of production was "matched
supported by a similar involution in rural family life,
social stratification, political organisation, religious prac
tice, as well as in the 'folk-culture' value system ... in
terms of which it was normatively regulated and ethically
justified" (AI: 101). The whole process is summed up as the
"advance towards vagueness" in village society, giving the
quality of everyday existence "a richness of social surfaces
and a monotonous poverty of social substance" (AI: 103).
During the 20th century, this process has not only con
tinued but also spread geographically: "Involution ... has
proceeded relentlessly onward, or perhaps one should say
outward, for a process which began to be felt first in full
force mainly in the sugar regions is now found over almost
the whole of Java" (AI: 126).
" A Brilliant Hypothesis"
Before embarking on the exposition of "agricultural
involution" Geertz warns us of the scarcity and unreliabil
22
ity of data on the peasant sector during the nineteenth
century, so that the various stages oftheir adaptation "have
to be described in speCUlative terms, shored up only by
fragmentary and indirect evidence, plus some hard reason
ing." However, "the over-all nature and direction of that
adaptation are clear"(AI: 70). It is perhaps the fault of
over-enthusiastic readers that the ideas put forward in AI,
most of them with virtually no concrete evidence, have
taken more as "discovery" than as inspired specula
tion. As Knight reminds us, "a brilliant hypothesis ... is
what Agricultural Involution remains, and it would be a
pity if were mistaken for something more" (Knight 1982:
148). As we shall see, almost every element in the Geertz
ian picture encounters serious difficulties when confronted
with the available evidence.
Ecological Mutualism
Taking the components of involution more or less in
the order in which they have just been summarized the
notion of ecological mutualism or symbiosis
sugarcane and paddy cultivation is problematic in many
ways. First, although this may not much affect the general
involution hypothesis, it is simply not true that "sugar
demands . . . a general environment almost identical to
that. for wet rice" and was thus "almost of necessity initially
cultIvated on peasant sawah" (AI: 55). Sugarcane was
grown in the first decades of the nineteenth century not in
paddy fields butr on rain-fed land specially cleared for that
purpose in the Batavia lowlands, and it was considerations
of labor availability rather than ecological necessity which
led to its eventual concentration in the irrigated areas
(Knight 1980). As Sajogyo has noted:
The sugar mills' easy access to a rural labour force supports
a strong presumption that this cheap labour was the para
mount consideration in the capitalist sugar mills' concentra
tion on the "cultural core" [the sawah ecosystem-BW]
and that a sugarcane technology was deliberately developed
with modern agronomic science and selected by the capital
ists to conform to the ecological requirements of irrigated
paddy! Sugar is grown in most of the tropics without such
careful irrigatin as in Java, indeed more often under rainjed
conditions. . . . Geertz has got his facts wrong in supposing
that the ecological requirements of sugarcane are identical
to those ofwet rice (Sajogyo 1976: xxv).
The Alexanders have pointed to further agronomic prob
lems in the inter-rotation of sugarcane and paddy which
cast doubt on the impression given by Geertz that sugar
cane can be inserted into an irrigated paddy regime without
fundamentally disturbing its productivity.
The integration of an 18-month (sugarcane) and a 4-month
(paddy) crop is diffiCUlt without leaving the land unusedfor
some periods .. The different systems offield irrigation [fur
row and basin irrigation respectively-BW] mean that con
siderable labour is required for reconstruction after each
crop. But the critical point . .. is the difference in large
scale water requirements: irrigation systems developed with
the intention ofmaximising sugar production are inappropri
ate for the maximisation of rice production (Alexander &
Alexander 1978: 210).
The same authors' calculations (based on Anderson
While competing for the same land, sugar and rice require very different rice grows in 3-5 months with basin irrigation. (Richard W. Franke)
irrigation schemes. Sugar growsfor /6-/8 months with furrow irrigation while
1972) show that in a common glebagan sequence in which a
village entered a 211h-year land-lease agreement entitling a
sugar mill to plant sugarcane on one-third of the village
sawah in rotation (described also in AI: 86ft), when the
time needed to convert the sawah from basin to furrow
irrigation and back is taken into account, sawah was avail
able for rice-cultivation during only 24 percent (and for dry
crops during 20 percent) of each three-year cycle. A village
entering into an agreement of this kind therefore had its
opportunities for paddy production cut by two-thirds
(Alexander & Alexander 1978: 212).
On a more global level, there are problems with the
only piece of statistical evidence furnished by Geertz to
demonstrate the mutually-supportive relations between
sugarcane and paddy cultivation. Geertz uses statistics
from the 1920s (from the Landbouwatlas or Agricultural
Atlas of Java and Madura, 1926) to show that the main
sugarcane regions of Java had proportionately "(1) more
sawah; (2) more population; and (3) even though more of
their sawah is occupied by sugar, more rice production than
the nonsugar areas. . . . All three 'flourish', if that is the
proper word, together" (AI: 74f.). In a recent paper the
Dutch scholars Husken and van Schaik have analyzed the
same data broken down by separate regions, and conclude
that
The only region where' 'high density, high sawahisation and
high productivity" go together in sugar districts is the Vor
stenlanden [Sultanates ofYogyakarta and Surakarta-BW]
and their former mancanegara... The correlationfound by
Geertz for all lava occurs only in the area where the
Cultivation System (designated by Geertz as the primary
cause of agricultural involution) was never put into op
eration, but where the sugar industry obtained a ''feudal''
right ofdisposal over land and labour through contracts with
the Sultans and their apanage-holders (Hiisken & van Schaik
1980: 23; emphasis added).
Detailed historical research on important sugarcane
areas in which the Cultivation System was operative pre
sents us with a quite different, unGeertzian picture which
calls into question his attempt to base the notion of involu
tion on the Cultivation System (cf. Elson 1978: 24). The
diversion of peasant labor to sugarcane production seems
to have resulted not in labor-intensification on the sawah
remaining in paddy cultivation, but in a decline both in
labor-intensity and in paddy yields, at least during Geertz'
"decisive" period of the mid-nineteenth century. In the
residencies of Pekalongan and Pasuruan, which together
produced more sugar than the Principalities, peasants
often had to resort to faster-growing but lower-yielding
varieties (padi genja) in order to harvest before the sawah
was taken over for sugarcane. They also returned to less
labor-intensive methods (broadcasing instead of pregermi
nation and transplanting, less frequent weeding) and suf
fered drastic reductions in yields (Elson 1978; de Vries
1931; Knight 1982; cf. Alexander & Alexander 1979).
Pekalongan, formerly a major exporter of rice, had be
come a rice deficit area by the 1850s (Knight 1982: 141); in
Pasuruan, rice production declined steadily from the 1840s,
and
there is no evidence ofthe progressive rises in rice productiv
ity along the densely populated and heavily "sawahed"
sugar districts of the northern littoral, the stable per capita
rice yields, nor the intensified labour-absorbing agricultural
techniques described by Geertz. . . . A detailed analysis of
Pasuruan's experience suggests that the more such an area
was subjected to heavy cane cultivation, the more that culti
vation became a positive obstacle, rather than an operative
factor, in the attainment ofhigh rice-yields (Elson 1978: 19,
24).
In short, the forced cultivation of sugarcane along Cultiva
tion-System principles seems not to have inserted itself in
23
mutually-supporting coexistence with subsistence cultiva
tion, to have "played havoc with village agri
culture (Kmght 1982: 140). As Knight and others have
clear, were felt not only in production but
also 10 agranan relatIOns and class formation but we will
postpone this imp?rtant is.sue for the moment: turning first
to the problematic questIon of the relation between co
lonial extraction, labour intensification and population
growth.
The Role of Population Growth
. Available statistics suggest a remarkable and unique
of rather steady and continuous population growth
Java, at around 2 percent per annum throughout the
century doubling itself roughtly every
!hIrty-five years) and 10deed up to the present. While there
IS on the reliabilio/ of the early nineteenth century
estIm.ates, seems doubt that population was
grow1Og at thIS tIme, even If we may never know precisely
how fast (Breman 1963; Peper 1970; White 1973). The
Alexanders have carefully pointed out that Geertz' treat
ment population growth is basically Malthusian, with
population growth seen as a result of declining mortality
a.nd as a cause rather than a result of agricultural involu
tion, and labor-intensification seen as a defensive reaction
to. populati0t;t growth (Alexander & Alexander 1979: 23),
WIth one cunous exception at the end of the book. While
cO':l1paring Java with Japan, Geertz sees Java's rapid popu
latIon after 1830 result of declining mortality
due to Improved commumcatIons and greater security and
of increased fertility due to the labor-tax pressures of the
Culture System" (AI: 137).
ago I proposed a more positive, non
MalthUSIan 1Oterpretation of colonial population growth
concentrating on the pressures imposed on peasant produc
by colonial exactions of land, labor and produce and
their ef!ects on the demand for children as potential pro
ducers 10 peasant households, the units within which the
of labor power takes place. In the absence of
on reproductive behavior during the co
lomal penod argument was largely speculative (White
1973). In reactIOn, Geertz and van de Walle while not
denying that colonial policies after 1830 large
amounts of peasant labor into the commercial sector, have
argued tha.t these were "more importantly
met by SOCIal reorgamzatIOn, 10cluding work and technical
the peasant sector" (Geertz 1973: 238)
and that they dId not remove labour or land from rice
production ... but used them when they were idle" (van
de Walle 1973: 244, recalling Geertz' more ironic observa
tion that the Javanese peasantry were obligated to launch
the estate sector "in their spare time").
. The notion that an entire system of co
lomal extraction 1Ovolved no more than the conversion of
the natives' "spare time" into "work time" can only be
countered by not have been advanced without)
more su?stantlve eVIdence of the level and also the timing
of colomal demands on peasant production and labor time.
from sugarcane areas provided by Elson, de
Vnes, van Nlel and Knight (some of it already mentioned)
offers powerful support for the idea that, during the
"formative" of the Cultivation System, colonial
labor demands dId represent labor taken out of subsistence
production. Peasant households in Pasuruan devoted
180 person-days per year to sugar cultivation, so that
the 66 days of forced labour which each household was
supposed to provide for non-agricultural tasks must have
seemed insignificant alongside the labour dem'ands of the
fields" (Alexander & Alexander 1979: 35), to which must
be added the traditional exactions of labor and
prod.uce still levied by the Javanese regents and lower
offiCIals. Far from supposing that these labor demands
"rent" smallholders were obliged to pay for the
rIght to cultIvate subsistence crops with the land and labor
have been met in Geertzian "spare"
tIme? It IS hard to see how any time remained at all for
We have already seen that rice
YIelds declIned dunng the early years of the Cultivation
System these In it took thirty years for
paddy YIelds to regam theIr former level a "re-intensifica
which only to have become thanks to a
penod of rapid demographic expansion which provided the
extra labor necessary to undertake it. Between 1838 and
1868 the average household size increasd from 3.5 to 4.6
with a corresponding increase in the ratio of juve
nIles to adults (Alexander & Alexander 1979: 37; cf. de
Vries 1931: 99).
These examples, together with other estimates of the
burden of unpaid labor obligations in various parts of Java
(cf. Selosoemard jan 1962: 271-284 for the sugarcane region
of Yogyakarta and Arminius' remarkable nineteenth cen
tury "time-allocation" study of a non-sugar district of
Bagelen, 1889; also Eindresume 1901-1903) strengthen the
argument that the exaction of colonial "rent" in its various
and changing forms constituted a labor demand which was
not met simply by in "idle" time but required
fundamental reorgamzatlon of the household's division of
labor. There is evidence of a high degree of women's in
volvement in smallholder cultivation and in such increas
ingly important off-farm activities as trade and handicrafts
(an aspect of the adaptation which Geertz ig
nores) throughout the mneteenth century. It is reasonable
to that as male labor was diverted from indigenous
to .fulfill colonial demands it was replaced both
by of women in directly income
produc1Og actIVIty and by larger family sizes through in
creased of (Boomgaard 1981). Recent
advances 10 hlstoncal demography have shown the sensitiv
ity of reproductive behavior to political-economic change
(through changes both in marriage patterns and in the
of reproduction within marriage) in other pre
1Od.ustnal peasant populations in Europe and Asia for
WhICh better records are available (cf. White 1982: 590
597). The marked increase in child-adult ratios already
noted for Pasuruan is also found for Java as a whole during
the early years of the Cultivation System (Boomgaard
1979: 48).
We have little historical historical evidence on chil
labor use, although it is interesting that many dis
trIcts wc:re able to report on children's wage rates in agri
culture 10 the 1905 "Declining Welfare" enquiry (MWO
1911). Contemporary analogies can show the potential of
24
children as a source of labor (White 1976a, 1976b and 1982:
6ooff. describe a village in Yogyakarta in which half of all
work was done by children in the early 1970s, although
most of them were spending part of their time in school).
Such fragmentary evidence as there is, then, together with
analogies from contemporary research and from historical
demography, supports parts of the "demand-for-Iabor"
interpretation of colonial population growth for which no
direct evidence may be available. There is enough to give
some force to the argument that demographic expansion
should be better viewed as one aspect of the peasantry's
active response to colonial pressures, rather than as an
exogenous cause of agrarian stagnation (cf. Alexander &
Alexander 1979).
Increasing Complexity in the "Cultural Core"
Thus far we may conclude with the Alexanders that
"the stagnation of Javanese agriculture during the colonial
period was less a product of ecology and demography than
political economy" (Alexander & Alexander 1978: 217).
Let us now turn brieftly to the notion of increasing internal
elaboration and complexity, which as we have seen is for
Geertz a defining mark of "involution." As far as complex
ity in agricultural techniques is concerned, no concrete
evidence can be offered in either direction (nor is any
offered by Geertz) , but we may note that none of the
techniques mentioned as instances of this increasing com
plexity (AI: 77f.) are absent from Raffles' pre-Cultivation
System (1817) description of Javanese paddy cultivation
many of them, such as harvesting with the finger-knife or
ani-ani, are centuries older than that-with the exception
of straight-row transplanting (AI: 35) which was not general
in Java until introduced by the occupying Japanese in the
1940s. While per-hectare labor-inputs in paddy cultivation
are high, there is some doubt whether they have increased
at all since the earliest available estimates made by
Sollewijn Gelpke in Kediri (1901) and by Anninius in
Bagelen (1889), or since the more detailed and careful
studies made by various researchers in several villages dur
ing the 1920s (Collier 1981b). Although such comparisons
are dangerous because changing methods of data collection
may significantly affect the results, there is certainly no finn
evidence yet of labor-intensification in paddy production at
any time during the colonial period, apart from the "re
intensification" in late Cultivation-System Pasuruan,
which as already noted was a return to techniques aban
doned during the early years of the System. There may well
have been increases in the input of labor per hectare per
year (rather than per crop) through the extension of
double-cropping--particularly the rapid expansion of
soy-beans, maize, cassava, tobacco, ground-nuts, etc. as
second crops during the late nineteenth and early twentieth
centuries (AI: 90-94)-but this involves no elaboration of
agricultural techniques, nor is there anything necessarily
"involutional" about double cropping, multiple-cropping
or inter-cropping.
What about the complexity and elaboration of land
tenure and labor arrangements? It is difficult to draw any
precise conclusions here, and again Geertz offers no evi
dence, beyond a couple of illustrations.
A man will let out part ofhis one hectare to a tenant-or to
two or three-while at the same time seeking tenancies on
the lands ofother men, thus balancing his obligations to give
work (to his relatives, to his dependents, or even to his close
friends and neighbors) against his own subsistence require
ments. A man will rent or pawn his land to another for a
money payment and then serve as a tenant on that land
himself, perhaps in turn letting out subtenancies to others. A
man may agree, or be granted the opportunity, to perform
the planting and weeding tasks for one-fifth ofthe harvest and
job the actual work in turn to someone else, who may, in his
turn, employ wage laborers or enter into an exchange rela
tionship with neighbors to obtain the necessary labor (AI:
99).
Certainly there is a complex variety of fonns of land tenure
(cf. Scheltema 1931) and agriculturallabor-recruitment (cf.
Versluys 1938) in Java, but are these any more complex
than in other Asian societies or in land-scarce peasant
societies generally, and did they increase in complexity
during the 19th century or thereafter? The available histor
ical evidence on these matters has never been thoroughly
analyzed-not only archives, but even published
sources such as the massive all-Java inquiry into native land
rights in the late 1860s (cf. Eindresume 1876-1896) have
scarcely been touched, despite some useful summary anal
yses (e.g. Kana 1977). On the basis of existing work and my
own perusal of some regional data for parts of West and
Central Java, I think a plausible argument can be made that
land leasing and sharecropping are now, and were in the
past, no more and perhaps less common than in many other
Asian societies. Quite simply, the great majority of Java's
paddy fields (and still more of unirrigated land) both re
cently and in the colonial period, appear to have been
"farmed" (with or without hired labor) by their owners (or
by those holding use-right in the case of "communal"
land). Similarly, despite the existence of many kinds of
labor-exchange arrangements, Javanese smallholder agri
culture has been marked since at least the beginning of this
century by a rather high proportion of simple wage-trans
actions, involving sometimes natura payments (as in har
vesting) but otherwise generally cash payments (cf. de
Vries 1932; Collier 1981b; Sinaga & White 1980).
Pardoxically, a much stronger argument might be
made for genuinely "involutional" tendencies toward in
creasing internal complexity and rigidification, not in the
sphere of agricultural technology and agrarian relations on
which Geertz lays such stress, but in the "rest" of culture,
in the increasingly refined patterns of language, etiquette,
dance, batik, religious and ceremonial behavior and mysti
cal belief emanating not from the peasantry but from the
demoralized courts of both inland and coastal Java, al
though the beginning of these tendencies should be dated
not to the Cultivation System but to the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries (cf. Burger 1956). In these "super
structural" areas of social life and ideology (although
Geertz explicitly refrains from a priori assignment of the
various bits of culture to "core" or "superstructure" AI:
10f.), on which so much of Geertz' anthropological work in
Java and elsewhere has thrown light, the notion of "involu
tion" may have greater relevance. One wonders whether
25
perhaps Geertz' observations of these aspects of culture
(the focus of his own fieldwork in small-town "mojokuto"
in 1953-54) led him to transfer these ideas to the field of
agrarian relations, on a much more shaky empirical
foundation.
"Shared Poverty" and the
Absence of Agrarian DitTerentiation
Geertz' account of agrarian stagnation hangs on the
role of the technical and social changes described above in
spreading resources, work-opportunities and the agric.ul
tural product relatively evenly among the burgeonmg
population, maintaining a high of
social and economic homogene1ty and thus preventmg the
emergence of a class of entrepreneurial, capitalistic farm
ers who might otherwise have been responsible for eco
nomic "take-off. " The assertions on "shared poverty" and
the absence ofdifferentiation have been adopted wholesale
by many authors who have not themselves research
on this topic (cf. Missen 1972; May 1978; Slevers 1974;
Scott 1976) but have attracted so much criticism by those
who have that the task of summarizing is difficult. Of all the
issues raised by AI this is the most central, not only because
of its influence on later research but also because the idea of
"shared poverty" and the values held to reinforce it has
taken root so deeply, and serves some role in ideolog
ical justification of the rural development polic1es of the
New Order government.
Although Geertz devotes curiously little space (AI:
97-102) to this crucial aspect of "involution, " the
are bold and unambiguous (cf. p. 10 above) and echoed m
other publications:
Rather than the rapid concentration ofwealth and the forma
tion ofan impoverished, alienated proletariat, ... we have
had in Central and East Java a process of near-equal frac
tionalization of land holdings and the wealth which they
represent" (1956b: 141; cf. 1956a: 34f.).
In one subsequent work Geertz appears to
himself. Writing of colonial agrarian changes in the reg10n
of his own fieldwork he notes of the late nineteenth and
early twentieth centuries that "the economy
stimulated a change towards larger landholdmgs and to
wards the proletarianization of marginal peasants" and
"there grew up. . . something of a large landholding class,
made up of village chiefs and well-to-do peasants ... [who]
in addition to being labor hirers and harvest contractors,
were commonly moneylenders as well" (1965: 40ff.).
Geertz makes no attempt to reconcile these conflicting
views but appears to view the ascendancy of this
rural middle class" (ibid.) as a temporary aberration from
the overall involutionary pattern, caused by the sugar
boom and aborted by the Depression (cf. Knight 1982: 14.8)
and thus still to share the position of Boeke that colomal
policies failed to produce "what van der Kolff rightly re
gards as one of Java's greatest needs: a 'virile yeomanry' "
(1965: 49, cf. van der Kolff 1953: 195).
One central element in the analysis of agrarian struc
tures is the identification of relations between those groups
or classes who work on the land and those who do not work
in agriculture but lay claim to part of its product. While AI
The main factors held responsible by Geertz for con
tinuing agrarian stagnation in Java (if not for its co
lonial origins)-the absence of agrarian ditTerentia
tion and the "sharing of poverty"-are seen as basic
ally a matter of world-view, attitudes and values, that
is as a problem of (psycho)-cultural rather than ecolog
ical, technological or even impasse.
discusses relations between the Javanese cultivators and
the colonial exploiter at length, it bypasses virtually all
consideration of the existence and mechanisms of differen
tiation between agrarian classes within Javanese society
itself. There is simply no discussion of this aspect of agra
rian structure, either before, during or after the colonial
period. In view of Geertz's general appreci.ation. th.e
relevance of indigenous cultural categones, th1S om1SS1on 1S
all the more puzzling since Javanese village society has
always conceived of its own in of
rather rigid categories based quite unamb1guously on d1ffe
rential ownership of land and/or rights to communal land.
While the "top-down" view of the traditional administra
tive elite (pryahi) may lump all village people as
wong cilik ("little people")-rather as Geertz does-w1th
in their own communities Javanese villagers clearly disting
uish different classes (which also determine various labor
service and tax obligations to community and state), vari
ously named in different parts of Java, but with the same
land-based criteria of differentiation. Thus in one formula
tion kuli kenceng are those who own both sawah, pekarangan
(home gardens) and a house, kuli karang kopek have only a
pekarangan and house, kuli indung or kuli gandok have only
house and indung tlosor lodge in another's house; and van
ous categories of tenant cultivators may be added (Mulher
in 1971; cf. Jaspan 1961: 12f.; Selosoemardjan 1962: 40;
Sartono 1972: 79; Koentjaraningrat 1967: 267f.; ter Haar
1948). The village of Tamansari studied by Geertz' ':'ll
league in the "Mojokuto" project seems to be no exception
(Jay 1969: 313). .
"Differentiation" is of course a relative matter, but
the omission is more than a matter of emphasis. There is
ample evidence (only a small part of it mentioned here) not
only for the present but also for the nineteenth century and
earlier, of the existence alongside small-holder peasant
proprietors of both a substantial class of propertyless
households and another with landholdings far above the
average, and of parallel marked differences in wealth, in
stark contrast to AI's assertion that "rather than haves and
have-nots there were, in the delicately muted vernacular of
peasant life, only tjukupans and
enoughs" and "not-quite-enoughs" (AI: 97). These d1ffer
ences may have been less than in some other societies in
which a more extreme "Marxist bifurcation" (Geertz
1956a: 46) has occurred, but it is still the differences and
relations between agrarian classes that demand attent10n
because they provide the dynamic of agrarian change so
completely missing in the Geertzian view: is
anything uniquely Javanese about a trans1tion m Wh1Ch
rather than the "standard" Marxist of Leninist bifurcation
into only two kulak and proletarian classes, these two op
26
posing classes emerge and coexist with a large mass of small
or marginal peasants. There may be
sources of peasant survival and its role wlthm capltahst
development, but this path of agrarian transition has
the rule rather than the exception in many parts of ASia,
Latin America and southern Europe (ct. Goodman and
Redclift 1981).
In summarizing some recent historical work we will
follow AI's focus on the Cultivation System and on sugar
cane regions (although in fact forced coffee-cultivation was
far the more profitable export crop venture, and involved
about three times as many households as sugarcane
throughout the Cultivation System, van Niel 1980). Most
recent work has also focused on sugar regions (some excep
tions are Sartono 1966 in a non-sugar and Onghokham 1975
in a 'mixed' region). Although the picture of rural society
before the nineteenth century is still vague, three recent
studies focusing on different regions on the eve of. the
Cultivation System (Breman 1980; Carey 1981a; Kmght
1982) provide a rather consistent picture in which three
broad agrarian "classes" can be identified. In the middle
was a large mass of peasants (often. called sikep
with rights to land and with heavy tnbute and corvee obli
gations (rights to land being the of all forms of exac
tion at both village and supra-vtllage level). Below
was a substantial group of landless households and mdl
viduals attached as dependents to landed peasant house
holds (often called indung or numpang, "lodgers" or bujang,
"bachelors" although not necessarily unmarried). Above
the sikep class was a group of village officials who in addi
tion to their own landholdings had control of a large por
tion (often one-fifth) of village land plus rights to the
unpaid labor of the sikeps to cultivate it, and to many other
exactions-a privileged, non-cultivator class whose office
was often in practice hereditary.
Given the lack of interest in the "untaxable" landless
class in early colonial accounts, we know very little about
their numbers (although there are indications that in some
districts they outnumbered landed households, cf. Breman
1980: 22) or the nature of their relations with sikep house
holds. Sharecropping and wage arrangements were com
mon and it is also clear that these dependent households,
not burdened themselves with tribute or.
obligations, bore the main labor burden of the obhgatlons
which formally devolved on their landed "patron" house
holds. A typical Javanese "farm," then, at this time, was n?
Chayanovian "peasant family farm" but rather a larger umt
consisting of a "core" landed household and a number of
dependents who performed most of the work it, as
tenants or farm-servants, in addition to shouldenng the
labor obligations due to village and state. Commodity pro
duction in agriculture and monetization were already quite
far developed, and surplus was extracted by both non
economic and market means. Summarizing conditions
along the northern coastal plain (pasisir) on .the eve the
Cultivation system, Knight observes that whIle the baSIS of
much rural productin was noneconomic coercion by supra
local officials (labor-service and levies of produce, a part of
which entered world trade as "contingent" to the Dutch or
through Chinese middlemen), there .was also surplus
extraction through market mechamsms by Chmese and
other merchants who bought produce with cash or barter.
In shon, alongside and suffusing a system of agricultural
production based on noneconomic coercion . . . was a pro
duction ofcommodities for cash and baner stimulated by the
activities of . .. traders and organized within the peasantry
on the basis of a broad distinction between landed and
landless (Knight 1982: 13Off.).
What happened to the various agrarian classes during
the Cultivation System? Village officials appear to have
maintained their superior position, in many areas with new
sources of wealth as agents for the delivery of forced-culti
vations and labor.
The Cultivation System strengthened . .. the position of the
upper echelon of village society by granting village heads
and their assistants wide-ranging and arbitrary powers in
the organization of the sugar cultivation. . . . Such men
were to become, in time, a class of (in Javanese terms)
wealthy large landholders (Elson 1978: 28).
The main area of debate concerns the relative positions of
sikep and landless, and particularly possibility of a
"levelling" tendency in the
ure, particularly in sugarcane areas, and ItS re-dlVIslon mto
smaller parcels to admit previously hou.seholds
into the ranks of the landed, thereby spreadmg the mcreas
ingly heavy obligations that went with land at the
same time smothering incipient agrarian capltahsm. The
detailed history of the period has not yet been written, and
"until we have many more monographic studies of
impact of the cultivation systems. : . at the local level, It
will be impossible to make any firm Judgements about how
the 'landowning' sikep fared in the years after 1830" (Carey
1981a: 27). Although reallocation of land rights occurred,
the "levelling hypothesis" -an important part of Geertz'
argument (AI: 9Of.)-"runs into serious when
tested against our knowledge of how the CultivatIon Sys
tem worked and what its effects were" (Knight 1982: 133).
Knight notes that the hypothesis had its origins primarily in
Bergsma's reports on the 1868 Inquiry into Native
Rights (Eindresume 1876-1896). Bergsma was determmed
to demonstrate that the Cultivation System had destroyed
the "yeoman" peasantry, but provided little evidence. On
the other hand, more detailed reports from the Umbgrove
Commission and from residency archives in Pasuruan de
monstrate the persistence of a class of hereditary peasant
landholders and significant consolidation of holdings
(Knight 1982: 135f.).
Since population was growing at this time, we may also
suggest that if landed villagers were contributing a
tionate share of this growth (more than a proportIOnate
share, if modem comparisons are relevant) substantial sub
division and redistribution of holdings would anyway have
been necessary for each succeeding generation of land
holders' children (almost twice the number of the previous
generation) to be accomodated in the ranks of the pro
prietors. Onghokham, who makes perhaps the strongest
case for communalization, redistribution and the weaken
ing of the sikep class in Madiun, still notes that "the
did not mean that village society became more democratic
or that class distinctions disappeared. The founding cakal
bakal families the numpang, and the classes between them
still existed, . . . the headmen still had a substantial
27
amount of land" (Onghokbam 1975: 197). Arrangements
for land leasing, pawning and sharecropping, which were
most widespread in the communalized regions and are
cited as instances of "shared poverty" in AI, may equally be
seen as mechanisms of differentiation emerging as a natural
response to regulations prohibiting the outright sale of
land, that is, when the normal process of accumulation,
through concentration of ownership, is institutionally
blocked. Reviewing the evidence of landlessness and the
formation of a wage-labor class, land sale and leasing,
concentratIon of wealth and power in the pasisir,
Kmght concludes:
Potential for development ofa capitalist kind existed in rural
Java in the opening decades ofthe 19th century . ... Subse
quent develoments, far from representing the petrifaction of
"pre-capitalist" structures. revealed a pervasive growth of
capitalist relations and purposes. . . . There is every evi
dence that (the differentiation between landholders and land
less) was confirmed and strengthened by the profits which the
System brought to the privileged, larger landholding groups
within the peasantry (1982: 147, 149).
What emerged at the end of the Cultivation System
was therefore something quite different from the more
homogeneous village society depicted in AI. There is no
space to summarize evidence on the remaining seventy
years of Dutch rule, but several sources support a picture of
continuing social and economic differentiation. Regional
monographs of the 1905 "Declining Welfare" Inquiry
(MWO), Meijer Ranneft and Huender (1926) and Meijer
Ranneft's regional reports based on field observations in
the 1920s (collected in Meijer Ranneft 1974) give many
examples of the accumulation of resources and wealth at
the "top" and high rates of landlessness at the "bottom" of
village society, a process in which usury and chronic inde
btedness played an important role. It is possible that the
1930s Depression and the period of Japanese occupation
and independence struggles (1942-1949, a period on which
virtually no evidence on agrarian changes exists), with
extensive demonetization and the collapse of the export
crop industries (cf. Gordon 1979), may have been a time of
retrenchment for some of the rural elite, particularly those
who had diversified into off-farm enterprises. Equally,
those who controlled land and its product, either as surplus
farmers or as landlords, may have been able to gain control
of the holdings of marginal "deficit" peasants in these times
of general scarcity-we simply do not know.
After independence, various studies from the 1950s
(close to the time of Geertz' own fieldwork) provide scat
tered but consistent evidence of further differentiation and
polarization, or "re-polarization" depending on one's in
terpretation of the preceding decade. Most of these were
not published in English, and many not published at all; the
short summaries in Jaspan (1961) and Lyon's overview on
"Land and Economic Polarization" (1970: 15-26) provide
references. Among these are the studies carried out by the
Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) on land distribution in
selected villages of West, Central and East Java in the late
1950s (cf. Lyon 1970: 20ff.; Slamet 1965: 37-42), which
might be suspected of bias but whose conclusions only
confirm what is known from other sources (van der Kroef
1960). Lyon summarizes the evidence from this period:
With the deterioration of general economic conditions . . .
the roles of richer peasants and large landlords have under
gone a shift . . . toward their greater relative financial
advantage, so that in their functions as money lenders, hirers
of wage labour, purchasers of crops and so forth, landlords
are operating for the most part under very favourable bar
gaining conditions (1979: 26).
As Wertheim notes, it seems that
In Geertz' picture something essential is missing. For . ..
beside shared poverty among the poorest of the poor, cer
tainly also a bifurcation was apparent, a process ofgrowing
divergence between rich and poor, an accumulation of land
among the wealthier landowners, and an increasing ten
dency among them to exploit their land in a capitalistic way
( 1975: 199).
What then of "shared poverty"? In the article in which
the concept is introduced, Geertz explicitly relates it to the
"abangan world view" of the Javanese peasantry (1956b:
1.41, AI: He elsewhere argues that agrarian stagna
tIon m Java IS at base a matter of attitudes and values:
"rural economy. . . is prevented from changing not only
by its earlier agricultural investments but by the deeply
engrained value system ofits members" (1956a: 35). Recal
ling a question posed in the introduction, this aspect of
"involution" perhaps explains why Higgins and the "Eco
nomic Development and Cultural Change" school (but not
why Gunder Frank) liked the book. No observer would
dispute the existence of a pervasive public ideology of
sharing and reciprocity in Javanese society-nor the wide
spread, actual "sharing of poverty" within the marginal and
landless classes (cf. Wertheim above). The crucial error of
AI in assigning to this ethic a determinant role in regu
latmg the actual relations of distribution between classes.
As Gerdin notes, "Geertz' hypothesis is based on a folk
model of distribution" which does not mirror the actual
patterns of distribution in the society (Gerdin 1982: 222, cf.
Alexander & Alexander 1982: 601).
But whose "folk model"? As we have seen in the case
of agrarian stratification, Geertz' account of Javanese con
ceptions of the social world mirrors an elite view. This is
also reflected in the curious notion (already quoted) that
"the delicately muted vernacular of peasant life" includes
no "haves" and "have-nots" but only "just-enoughs" and
"not-quite-enoughs." While cukupan and kekurangan may
be used to mark stark inequalities in public and polite
conversation (in the way a wealthy man describes himself,
for example), the poor in Javanese villages portray these
differences more bluntly, in fact precisely in terms of
"haves" an.d (wong duwe and wong ora duwe),
together WIth a nch and by no means delicate vernacular
depicting the mean and callous behavior of wong duwe.
Wertheim has remarked on Geertz' apparent "sociological
blindness" which parallels the "blind spots" of colonial and
post-colonial elites, whose vision of the harmonious and
peaceful village community, characterized by solidarity
and mutual aid, is derived from and promoted by the
village elite themselves (Wertheim 1975: 177-214). In
Utrecht's blunter diagnosis, "In all his writings Geertz
seems to tum a blind eye to class distinctions and class
struggle" (1974: 280).
28
This myopic vision of Javanese society and its "pecul
iarly passive social change experience" (AI: 103), besides
ignoring a long history of revolt and "everyday" resistance
to colonial oppression (cf. Sartono 1972; Elson 1979), was
hardly likely to foster a keen perception of the underlying
agrarian conflicts that were to come to a head in the early
1960s. The Norwegian anthropologist Svein Aass, who
lived in the village of Bangsal some four miles from "Mo
jokuto" in 1973-74, describes a community which one
would not recognize in the pages of Agricultural Involution.
During the late colonial period
a conflict existed between the ascendant group oflandowners
and rich peasants and the group ofpoverty-stricken villagers
composed of marginal peasants, semi-proletarians and the
landless. This conjiict grew with time and became the princi
pal conflict with the decline ofEuropean plantation agricul
ture after Independence . ... It was essentially a social
conflict expressing itself more and more in terms of class
(Aass n.d.: 70).
Now, the
processes of accumulation and expropriation due to the
commercialisation of agriculture . . . have resulted in a
situation in Bangsal where 80% ofthe population depend on
work on the land ofother peasants, having lost control ofthe
basic means ofproduction, the land . ... With time, agrar
ian relations have become not more complicated but more
uniform, based on wage labour" (ibid: 257).
I
I
Meanwhile harvest wages have fallen from one-fifth to
one-tenth and Bangsal's largest landowner (with twenty
hectares of sawah, three rice-hullers and a fleet of Mitsu
j
bishi minivans) enjoys his television set in "Mojokuto"
(ibid: 171, 135).
I
I
The unilateral actions of the Peasants' Front (BTl)
attempting to force implementation of the 1960 Agrarian
Reform laws, and the ensuing massacres of 1965-66 in
Bangsal were the result of "the emergence oflong-standing
conflicts which had only a marginal relationship with the
I
1
problem of agrarian reform itself' (ibid: 217). The out
come of these political struggles has accelerated a variety of
changes in Bangsal as in the rest of Java (cf. Collier 1981a;
1
Sinaga & Collier 1975) which function to reserve a larger
!
proportion of growing "Green Revolution" agricultural
yields for the landowner, with corresponding reductions in
the proportions (and often in the absolute quantities) ac
cruing to landless labor in the form of wages. The tebasan
system of harvesting, with greatly reduced numbers of
harvesters and the abolition of bawon shares, made its first
appearance in Bangsal in 1974: "The villagers' indignation
is very strong, and only the lack of an appropriate organiza
tion can explain the absence of open conflict" (Aass n.d.:
247). Other farmers limit harvesting opportunities to those
who have provided transplanting or weeding labor, unpaid,
earlier in the season (ibid: 241). One harvest scene ob
served by Aass encapsulates the new conditions:
Pak Solo was sitting in the field in a thatched hut, waiting to
give the sign for the harvest to begin. The villagers of
Sarangmanuk (ong of Bangsal's hamlets) were lined up at
one end ofthe field. Behind them was a crowd ofwomen from
the neighboring hamlet ofBlaru, clamouring to be allowed to
during the conflicts following the political events of 1965-66
and their land expropriated by their victorious opponents.
Every harvest these women came en masse to the fields of
Bangsal and in the past, they had been given work; Pak Solo
himself had allowed some of them to par(icipate. But this
year he was thinking of buying a Honda motorbike costing
299,000 rupiahs . .. and had given clear instructions to Pak
Salim to keep outsiders out of the field. Salim didn't ap
preciate this role at all, but as Pak Solo's contractor . .. he
was responsible for the harvest and . .. had no choice but to
jealously prevent them stepping into the field . ... All that
was left to the pathetic outsiders was to glean any small
paddy stalks left by the harvesters (ibid: 244f.).
The Impact of Agricultural Involution
In this summary I have tried to show that almost no
element in the Geertzian view of Javanese agrarian change
is supported by available evidence. Geertz may have been
surprised during the past fifteen years to see so much criti
cal energy aimed at a work so far from the beaten track of
Geertzian anthropology, so sketchily researched and so
admittedly speculative. In one way we might conclude that
the impact of AI has been an entirely healthy one, in stimu
lating so much subsequent research to provide empirical
correction and gradually to build up a more accurate pic
ture of Javanese rural society and its history. The advance
ment of bold, provocative new hypotheses and their subse
quent refutation is indeed one of the important ways in
which scientific progress is made. On the other hand, as
readers of this summary will have noticed, there has been a
tendency for many subsequent authors to cast their findings
in purely reactive terms. If Geertz is no straw man, AI at
least has become a rather tired punch-bag, an easy target
for criticism which often goes no further than pointing to
something wrong in the Geertzian picture, without propos
ing alternative views of Java's agrarian transition in its
place. Researchers might have more usefully applied theo
retical advances made in the study of other agrarian transi
tions, rather than simply taking another bash at Geertz.
Finally, many more people in Indonesia and in the
West have read AI or assimilated its views than will ever
read the careful corrective work of subsequent researchers.
We may see this, for example, in many authors' comments
on tendencies to differentiation during the "Green Revolu
tion" of the 1970s, who interpret them merely in terms of a
"breakdown in involution and shared poverty" (Collier et
al. 1974; Palmer 1977; Strout 1974; Temple 1976), implying
as the Alexanders have noted "that such consequences are
products of a transformation in Javanese values and direct
ing attention away from the structural changes in the In
donesian economy" (1982: 598). Such interpretations also
ignore the long history of tension and conflict between
opposing classes of landed and landless and their current
political resolution in favor of the landed, who were "the
most important allies of the military in the 1965-66 period
when the New Order was establishing itself," and are now
"a strategic base of support for the New Order state" which
has provided "the basis for the consolidation and develop
ment of a landlord/kulak class through provision of rural
credit and infrastructure in conjunction with programs ...
introducing high-yielding varieties, insecticides and fertil
I
join the harvest. Almost all the men in blaru had been killed
izers into agricultural production" (Robison 1982: 57f.). It
29
1
has also been remarked that applications of the Geertzian
thesis "have taken on an important ideological function in
current debates concerning Indonesian economic develop
ment, to provide 'scientific' justification for the view that
the major barrier to 'modernization' is the culturally based,
obstructive values of the peasantry, and that the way to
overcome them is by education and greater expertise"
(Alexander & Alexander 1982: 597). While correct, this
last point should not be blown out of proportion; the pol
icies of the New Order government do not rely on sociolog
ical justifications, and as Wertheim has reminded us in
another debate on the role of American sociologists on
Indonesia (Wertheim 1973; cf. Utrecht 1973), we should
not "overrate the danger of imperialist software." *
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1
31
I
i
Getting Them to Work Profitably: How the Small Peasants
Help the Large Ones, the State and Capital
by Rodolphe De Koninek*
The wellsprings of human freedom lie not only where Marx
saw them, in the aspirations of classes about to take power,
but perhaps even more in the dying wail ofa class over whom
the wave of progress is about to roll. Industrialism, as it
continues to spread, may in some distant future still these
voices forever. . . .
-Barrington Moore I
The Resistance of the Peasantry
The State, the Peasantry, and Work
From the viewpoint of those in control of state power,
few things can be more frustrating than the relative auton
omy of the populace in whose name political power is
exercised. However, when a large number, preferably the
majority, of those who cherish this autonomy are in need,
an unquestionable reason for intervention is provided.
When this state of need can be linked, if only in formal
terms, to the low productivity of labor, a specific field of
intervention is clearly defined. Finally, when relative
autonomy, low labor productivity, and need can be shown
to coincide in specific groups or social classes, the State and
its allies are provided with the social, economic, and politi
cal legitimacy to intervene. It is then that their solicitude
knows no bounds. Getting people to work more efficiently,
more productively, becomes the major goal of society.
While this preoccupation has always been present what
ever the form of State power, it stands as the raison d'etre
of all contemporary authoritarian regimes, whether of the
left or the right.
The imposition of control over work from above, con
ceived as a goal and a tool of economic and political power,
has immense potential in the poorer countries of the world
which have been, almost invariably, agrarian based, or,
I wish to thank Dean Louder for having read through this paper and
eliminated several gallicisms. Any remaining transgressions against the
English language are my sole responsibility.
1. Barrington Moore, Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy. Lord
and Peasant in the Making of the Modern World (Boston: Beacon Press,
1967), p. 505.
32
more specifically, peasant based economies. Nevertheless,
whatever its drudgery, the labor of hundreds of millions of
small peasants throughout the world remains relativelyauton
omous. Operating within a system called "natural agricul
ture" by Lenin and "natural economy" by Chayanov, peas
ants maintain control over their entire labor process. Their
work is not yet "fractured" since they themselves provide
both the energy and the information necessary to the exer
tion of labor.2 Even with the development of commodity
production, the alienation of labor-that is the separation
between energy and information-does not necessarily
proceed rapidly.
In fact, the peasantries of the world have always
strongly resisted outside control and the extreme division
of labor. This resistance to the alienation of work has often
made the peasantry reluctant to ally itself with the already
"freed" laborers, the urban proletariat. The fundamental
motive of that resistance has generally been identified in
negative terms; and the peasants' struggle to maintain con
trol over their work has been considered as backward,
egotistical, and reactionary. It has brought upon them the
wrath of such revolutionary thinkers as Marx and Lenin.
3
Yet history can also be used to support a somewhat differ
ent interpretation. The peasantries have been the last ram
part of non-alienated work and, in that sense, have been
truly dynamic-have been fighters. Indeed, how else
should be interpreted their courage which leads them to the
point of self-exploitation, to use terms employed by
Chayanov as well as by Lenin.
4
Peasant resistance has
arisen out of the development of capitalism and imperial
2. Lenine, Nouvelles donnees sur les lois du developpement du capitalisme
dans l' agriculture. Oeuvres, vol. 22 (Paris: Editions Sociales, 1960), 78;
Chayanov, in A. V. Chayanov on The Theory of Peasant Economy, eds., D.
Thorner, B. Keblay and R.E.F. Smith (Homewood, W.: Richard D.
Irvin, 1966), p. 25. For a clear and original treatment of the question of
alienation of work central to Marx's theses, see C. Raffestin and M.
Bresso, Travail, Espace, Pouvoir (Lausanne: l'Age d'Homme, 1979).
3. On this issue see in particular D. Mitrany, Marx Against the Peasant
(New York: Collier Books, 1961), and R. Linhart, Lenine, les paysans,
Taylor (Paris: Seuii, 1976).
4. Chayanov, op. cit., p. 6; Lenine, Le developpement du capitalisme en
Russie (Paris: Editions Sociaies, 1974), p. 21.
been "how do we get the peasant farmers to become more
productive?" While the need to think in terms of a broad
Rice policy has been at the core ofIndonesia's develop
food policy is increasingly being stressed,
9
the productivity
j
ment poticy, which implies a concentration upon the
improvement of infrastructure and the diffusion of a
technological package with the aim of improving
yields and labor productivity. More specifically, de
velopment efforts have focused upon the improvement
of irrigation systems and the use of modem inputs of
industrial origin, particularly chemical fertilizers.
ism which, in whatever form, relies essentially on the sepa
ration of work from information which, when achieved,
ensures better efficiency in the extraction of surplus value,
for the greater the volume of imposed work, the greater the
surplus value available.
I
Of course not all forms of peasant tradition can be
considered as progressive; and it is not my intention here to
defend a populist thesis. The point is not to sublimate
peasant societies or to negate the existence of stratifica
tion and of profound contradictions within them and even
less to pretend that they are, as such, revolutionary.
Rather, the point is to suggest that the peasant's concept
and practice of indivisible labor, individual and communal,
has immense political validity and potential. It is with that
in mind that the various strategies being deployed through
out the world to integrate the peasantries and alienate their
work should be examined because the central issue in world
development has to do with work. As P. Mattera put it,
"the aim of putting the entire population to work under
controllable conditions . . . after all, is what development
is all about. "s In other words, putting the peasantries ofthe
Third World to work under controllable conditions has
enormous economic and political importance for the fate of
capitalism.
6
Further evidence of this has recently been
provided by Okita Saburo, one of Japan's leading econo
mists and a former Foreign Minister. Okita forcefully'
proposes an acceleration of the broad mechanisms, as
J
sessed here at the local level, which "World Bank type"
experts consider to be a desirable form of development,
conceive of as growth.
8
Indonesia's Rice Problem
I
Indonesia's peasantry is the third largest in the world,
after those of China and India. Over the last two decades,
the agricultural question has been one of the dominant
issues in the country's development plans, policies, and
programs. Notwithstanding its intricacies, the question has
5. P. Mattera, "National Liberation, Socialism and the Struggle against
Work. The Case of Vietnam," Zerowork, 2 (1977), pp. 71-90 (SO).
6. R. De Koninck, "The Integration of the Peasantry: Examples from
Malaysia and Indonesia," Pacific Affairs, 52:2 (Summer 1979a), pp.
265-293; C. Payer, "The World Bank and the Small Famers," Journal of
Peace Research, 16: 4 (1979), pp. 293-312.
7. S. Okita, The Developing Economies and Japan. Lessons in Growth
(Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press, 1980); d Part I in particular.
8. Cf C. Payer, op. cit.
question concerns first and foremost the paddy farmers. In
other words, rice policy has been at the core of Indonesia's
development policy, which implies a concentration upon
the improvement of infrastructure and the diffusion of a
technological package with the aim of improving yields and
labor productivity. More specifically, development efforts
have focused upon the improvement of irrigation systems
and the use of modem inputs of industrial origin, particu
larly chemical fertilizers. The implications of these policies
and the actual implementation and results of the programs,
have been much documented in the literature, particularly
at the macro-economic level. 10 Indeed, numerous studies
have also analyzed the impact of these policies on the
condition of the peasantry. One such study was carried out
in the province of Aceh, but before looking at some of its
conclusions, it is necessary to describe the principal fea
tures of that region.
The Case of Aceh
Aceh, the northwestemmost province of Indonesia, is
situated at the tip of the island of Sumatra. According to
the 1971 census, its population was just over two million
resulting in a density of thirty-six inhabitants per square
mile for the 55,390 square kilometer province. This figure,
typical of tropical regions, II is nevertheless low by Indo
nesian standards (sixty-six inhabitants per square kilo
meter). The population is very unevenly distributed over
the Acehnese territory, the lowlands on the side of the
Malacca Straits reaching densities of 200 and 300 inhabi
tants per square kilometer while vast tracks of territory in
the interior are almost empty. The highest densities are not
clearly illustrated by official statistics since the smallest
administrative unit for which both population and area
figures are available is the kecamatan
l2
(no area figures are
available on a mukim basis). Many of the kecamatan are laid
out on a pattern perpendicular to the coast, their higher
interior section being generally much less densely popu
lated (when not virtually empty) than their coastal section.
The latter is usually centered on the one and only trunk
road which links the capital ofBanda Aceh to all the district
capitals and extends into the neighboring province of North
Sumatra. Consequently, in a large number of mukims of the
coastal regions of Pidie and Aceh Utara, and in the central
9. See, for example, H.C. AldermanandC.P. Timmer, "Food Policy and
Food Demand in Indonesia," Bulletin ofI ndones ian Economic Studies, 16: 3
(November 1980), pp. 83-93 (93).
10. The most reliable source in that respect is the Bulletin of Indonesian
Economic Studies. Not only does it contain more or less regular features on
agriculture, but in each of the three annual issues, under the title of
"Surveyof Recent Developments," agriculture receives a good coverage.
11. The relevance of population densities, particularly agricultural popu
lation densities, has been given wide coverage in geographical literature
on the tropics, the major author being Pierre Gourou, La terre et I' homme
en Extreme-Orient (Paris: Armand Colin, 1940).
12. Indonesian provinces are divided into kDbupaten or districts, and the
latter into kecamatan or sub-districts; these kecamatan are in tum divided
into mukim. Although a mukim still regroups a few villages, it corresponds
to the smallest officially recognized administrative unit in Indonesia.
33
tl/INs'82
valley of Aceh Besar, agricultural population densities can
be estimated to surpass 500 inhabitants per square
kilometer.
The importance of this phenomenon is enhanced by
the fact that 85 percent of the province's population is
rural, Aceh's industrial activities being very limited.13 In
consequence, farms are small, with the result that prevail
ing patterns of peasant land occupancy are not fundamen
tally different from those of most lowland regions of South
east Asia.
14
Although the Acehnese peasantry cannot be
said to be microfundists as are found in several regions of
J ava, it is one of minifundists, few family farms being larger
than one hectare.
Another major characteristic of the Acehnese peasant
agricultural sector is the overwhelming importance of rice.
In fact, contrary to the usual case in Indonesia, practically
all (96 percent) farm land devoted to food production is in
rice. IS Other crops in Aceh are truly secondary. In fact,
"the province of Aceh has a higher per capita production of
paddy than any other province in Indonesia. In 1972, ...
[it] was estimated at 411 kg, more than double the national
average (195 kg)."'6 Although Aceh is a "rice surplus"
region, a rare occurrence in Indonesia, only a small fraction
of that surplus has been marketed outside the province. 17
Acehnese peasant agriculture is based, first and foremost,
on paddy cultivation of the subsistence type, the major
13. Although the extractive sector is booming (essentially oil and natural
gas), it had yet to make a major impact on the local economy at the time
this study was carried out (1975). The same can be said of the increasingly
important forestry industry. Cf Boediono and Ibrahim Hasan, "An Eco
nomic Survey ofD.I. Aceh," BIES. 10: 2 (July 1974), p. 35-55.
14. Contrary to a common belief, in Indonesia smallness of holdings is not
confined to Java and the Sunda Islands. Although the larger islands such
as Sumatra are much less densely populated, the extent of land brought
under permanent agriculture is correspondingly much more limited. For
example, while more than 75 percent of Java is cultivated, in Aceh the
figures stands at about 10 percent.
15. Boediono and Hasan, op. cit., p. 38. The corresponding figure for
Java is less than 50 percent. See Sie Kwat Soen, Prospects for Agricultural
Development in Indonesia (Wageningen: Centre for Agricultural Publishing
and Documentation, 1968).
16. Ibrahim Hasan, "Rice Marketing in Aceh," BIES. 13: 3 (November
1976), pp. 77-94 (77).
17. Ibid.
The outcome of the transfer of the productive potential
of the small, land-tied peasantry to the hands ofothers
and the transformation of their labor into a commod
ity, is the consolidation of the social division of labor
and of the unequal distribution of the social product.
This "capture" of the small peasantry with its excep
tional efficiency in cultivating the land is profitable for
an emerging class, that of the farmer-entrepreneurs,
which has taken over the responsibility of the surplus.
source of employment for both men and women. IS Fur
thermore, the general tendency of such producerrs has
been, "when they produce more paddy, to consume more
paddy. "19 Therein lies the crucial point. Just as Aceh itself
tended to remain outside the mainstream of the Indonesian
federation,20 the Acehnese peasant rice producers partici
pated only marginally in the market economy.
From the point of view of the "development" oriented
Indonesian state, such a situation had to change. So, in the
early seventies through the BIMAS and INMAS programs
in particular, the central government took over the diffu
sion of the "green revolution package" with the help of a
variety of local agencies.
21
Even though by the mid-seven
ties not much more than one-fifth of the total sawah area
(irrigated rice terrace) in the province had been involved in
BIMAS and INMAS programs, 22 their direct and spill-over
18. It has been claimed that the majority of Acehnese men were traders
rather than peasant farmers. Cf. J. Siegel, The Rope of God (Berkeley:
Univ. of California Press, 1969), p. 137. Neither the official statistics nor
the evidence in the field corroborate this somewhat impressionistic state
ment. In stating, "By the 1960's, Atjehnese men had gained a place in the
market. Today most men are traders in the distributive system created by
the Dutch, although some are growers of cash crops in the mountains of
central Atjeh and a few have stayed in the village to grow rice" (1959, p.
137), Siegel was possibly thinking of Pi die alone. Even then it is difficult to
corroborate such a statement. Although it is true that in some villages
several of the men are absent for long periods during which they work as
traders (or cultivate ladang in the interior), this does not appear to be a
dominant phenomenon. On the contrary it concerns only a minority ofthe
male popUlation, whether in Pidie or elsewhere in Aceh, as extensive field
investigation showed up. The practice whereby some Acehnese men leave
their village for more or less lengthy periods, such as for a season, in order
to work as traders or in the coffee, pepper and ladang areas of the interior.
is called the rantau.
19. Ibrahim Hasan, op. cit., p. 89.
20. For a detailed description of the various steps followed by the central
government in order to integrate Aceh's rice economy into the market,
see Ibrahim Hasan, "Rice Marketing in Aceh: A Regional Analysis,"
unpublished PhD dissertation, (Djakarta, Universitas Indonesia, 1976);
cf in particular pp. 609-656.
21. Aceh's history over the last centuries has been characterized by its
resistance to Dutch rule, to Japanese rule, as well as to its integration
within the Indonesian nation. See C. Snouck Hurgronje, The Acehnese.
translated by A.W.S. O'Sullivan, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1906) 2 vol.; J.
Siegel, op. cit.; P. Polomka, Indonesia since Sukarno (Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1971), chapter 9 in particular.
22. Bank Rakyat Indonesia, Pelaksanaan Perkreditan Bimas MT 1975 (MT
April SID September 1975) (Jakarta: Bank Rakyat Indonesia, 1975) (Surat
Edaran Nose: S. 32-1313/3, 1975).
34
effects were noticeable. This was particularly true in the
lowlands of the three kabupaten of Aceh Besar, Pidie, and
Aceh Utara where most villages were involved in some
form of government program.
A major comparative study of the impact of the green
revolution in Malaysia and Indonesia surveyed a number of
villages in Aceh from 1973 to 1975. In a final survey,
carned out in 1975, a total of 422 padi producing house
holds were interviewed in fifteen villages, thirteen ofwhich
were situated in the above mentioned kabupaten. On the
Malaysian side of the Straits of Malacca in the states of
Perlis, Kedah, and Penang, 336 padi producing households
were studied. One of the reasons for the comparative study
was that the green revolution was obviously much more
advanced on the Malaysian side, thus providing, all other
things being equal, a somewhat diachronic picture. The
methodology of this research as well as many of the results
have been presented elsewhere.
23
Some of those results
will be highlighted here, particularly those dealing with' the
conditioning of the small padi peasant's labor. While the
focus will be on the Acehnese producers, it will be neces
sary to refer systematically to their Malaysian counterparts
in order to bring out more clearly the evolution of their
integration into the market economy.
Getting Them to Work Profitably
The Specificity and Importance of Rice Yields
. Of all the major cereals that have traditionally been
cultIvated throughout the world, rice has several distinct
characteristics, particularly when it is produced under irri
gati?n by peasant cultivators. Four of these are especially
t? the prese!lt analysis: First, rice yields a very
hIgh quantIty of calones per unIt of area cultivated; and
second, it requires intensive care. Irrigated padi land is
high yielding but labor intensive. A third characteristic
however, is that the average productivity of that labor
rather low. Although rice responds favorably to additional
!abor inputs, in labor productivity increases rap
Idly become marg10al and even negative. Fourth, tradi
tional wet rice cultivation is characterized by very marked
differential productivities of land and labor in relation to
farm. small pieces of land usually
obtam hIgher ytelds per UOlt of area. Having less land on
which to grow their staple food, they work much harder
and better yields. As a result, their productivity of
labor IS generally lower than that of peasants operating
units of production. As we shall see, this "compara
tive advantage of small peasants does not always exist and
in many instances it tends to be eroded away. It will be
shown later why this is so.
23. Cf. in particular R. De Koninck, D. S. Gibbons, Ibrahim Hasan, The
Green Revolution, Methods and Techniques ofAssessment. A Handbook ofa
Study in .Regions of Malaysia and Indonesia. Notes et documents de re
cherche, no 7 (Quebec: Departement de geographie, univ. Laval, 1977);
D. S. Gibbons, R. De Koninck, Ibrahim Hasan, Agricultural Mod
ernization, Poverty and Inequality. The Distributional Impact of the Green
Revolution in Regions of Malaysia and Indonesia (Farnborough, England:
Saxon House, 1980). To be more precise, the study covered 50 villages in
1973 and 32 in 1975. In this final survey, 959 respondent households were
studied, 758 of which were "specialized" padi producers. The others grew
some or only rubber trees.
It is important to note that the negative correlation
between farm size and yield per hectare is a fundamental
characteristic of traditional peasant food agriculture and
has, in fact, characterized many types of agriculture
throughout history. Lenin stressed its importance in his
study of late 19th century Russian agriculture.
24
Pierre
Gourou, one of the "classical" authors on rice cultivation
in Asia, has made this one of the central arguments of his
often repeated thesis of the superiority of what he called
the "civilisation de la riziculture. "25 Major recent studies
have continued to document this significant fact: "It is
widely recognized that with few exceptions, output per unit
of land shows a strong tendency to be higher on smaller
!arms than on large farms. Similarly the average productiv
Ity of labor tends to rise as average farm size increases. "26
specifically, regarding the current green revolution in
It has been. stated that "data from developing coun
tnes show that (10 nearly all cases in the recent, pre-green
revolution, past) physical yields fall as farm size rises. "27
There are two reasons for stressing this crucial social
characteristic of traditional peasant rice agriculture. First,
one of the fundamental processes of the integration of
traditional rice agriculture to the market economy is the
of the "comparative advantage," in terms of physi
YIelds of farmers. Second, surprisingly, this nega
tIve correlatIon between farm sizes and yields is not always
recognized by authors who debate the very course of that
integration. Thus, recently, while reviewing statistical
documents concerning the evolution of agriculture in In
donesia, Anne Booth emphasized the importance of the
correlation between rice farm sizes and physi
cal Ylelds.
28
Although she did not say so, her findings
24. Lenine, op. cit., 65, 70, etc.
25. P. Gourou, La terre et l'homme . .. op. cit. L'utilisation du sol en
Indochine Franr;aise (Paris: Hartmann, 1940); Les paysans du delta
Tonkinois. (Paris: Mouton, 1966).
26. K. Griffin, The Political Economy ofAgrarian Change: an Essay on the
Green Revolution (London: MacMillanf, 1974), p. 31.
27. Ingrid Palmer,The New Rice in Monsoon Asia, (UNSRID, 1974), VII.
See also G.F. Castillo, All in a Grain ofRice (Laguna, Philippines: South
east Asia Regional Center for Graduate Study and Research in Agricul
ture, 1975); D.C. Potter, ''The Politics of Poverty in Rural Asia" Pacific
Affairs, 54: 3 (Fall 1981), pp. 502-509 (504). '
28. A. Booth, "The AgricuItural Surveys 1970-1975," BIES, 15: 1 (March
1979), p. 65.
35
The adoption oftechnological innovations in rice culti
vation entails an immediate increase in the agricul
turallabor demanded. Use of high yielding varieties
(HYV) and chemical fertilizers, more careful methods
of replanting, double replanting, applications of pesti
cide and insecticides and, particularly, the practice of
double cropping have increased the total amount of
labor applied to the rice field from three to four times.
simply confirmed a "classical" phenomenon. Nevertheless,
her simple statement of fact was questioned by A. Nyberg
who seemed to consider the negative correlation between
farm size and physical yield an exceptional finding that
needed to be further documented. 29 On the contrary, it is
the inconclusive data to which he referred which would
need to be supported by rigorous additional analysis and
evidence.
3o
This kind of confusion needs to be clarified
because it tends to hide the implications of the erosion or
disappearance of the relative "comparative advantage"
that the majority of small farmers have been able to main
tain. Prior to the green revolution, they achieved this basic
ally through harder work on their smaller plots.
The Overall Increase and Differential Use of Inputs
The adoption of technological innovations in rice culti
vation entails an immediate increase in the agricultural
labor demanded. Use of high yielding varieties (HYV) and
chemical fertilizers, more careful methods of replanting,
double replanting, applications of pesticide and insecti
cides and, particularly, the practice of double cropping
have increased the total amount of labor applied to the rice
field from three to four times. Not only the amount of labor
devoted to a given area of sawah has increased but also the
work must be carried out on a very tight time schedule, For
technical reasons such as the timing of the distribution of
irrigation water to the rice fields, the nature of the HYV
which must be harvested rapidly, and the padi marketing
networks, transplanting and harvesting have to be exe
cuted over such a short period that, often, even those who
operate only small parcels must increasingly rely on paid
help of non-family labor. Thus, labor that was previously
exchanged now needs to be remunerated, and the volume
29. A.J. Nyberg, "The Agricultural Surveys 1970-1975: A Comment,"
BIES. 15: 3 (November 1979), p. 148.
30. Nyberg states that reference to positive correlations between farm
size and yields were contained in a book edited by the international Rice
Research Institute, Changes in Rice Farming in Selected Areas of Asia
(Laguna, Philippines: IRRI, 1975). He presumably refers to a paper by D.
Praboyo and Sa jogyo (pp. 179-199), whose statistics are not very meaning
ful (p. 194) and to another one by J. Ihalauw and W. Utami (pp. 149-177)
who did not state their facts clearly in that paper but rather in a previous
one, "Some Consequences of Small Farm Size," BIES, 9: 2 (July 1973), p.
49. And they do not even comment on their very limited data on sizes of
farms and yields in three villages (table 4). The irony is that, in the IRRI
book referred to, there is a clear statement from a study done in Malaysia
concerning the existence of a negative correlation between farm size and
physical yields! (p. 210).
1
I
\ ,
"
C0 tt.1"!.OIi!KEA)i '80
f"oIn IA,; t '. Dvifll,.'1

of labor has greatly increased. The usual result is an in
crease in annual physical yields, if only because of double
cropping. The rice field is now able to generate an im
portant marketable surplus. But it must now be asked:
(1) if the increase in labor demand is the same among all
operators, (2) if the increase in physical yields is uniform
for all farms and, finally, (3) who carries out the new tasks,
i.e. who performs the extra labor now required.
Among the communities studied, technological inno
vation has generally reached the small as well as the large
peasant holdings. This somewhat surprising phenomenon
was clearly verified in both the two study regions. Access to
technical inputs has been equitable, and the official exten
sion programs are not biased in favor of the .larger opera
tors. This does not imply that the diffusion of innovation
has been achieved in a uniform manner; some villages have
been reached much less intensively than others. What it
does mean, is what is generally considered the administra
tive defect of the green revolution, namely the widespread
favoritism in favor of larger farmers that has been detected
in so many countries at the level of diffusion of the innova
tions, was absent here.
3
!
In short, the small operators participate fully in tech
nological innovation, and to an even greater extent if they
are tenants. Though the families of the small operators are
on the average not as large as those of the larger operators,
the difference in land size is considerably greater, such that
the ratio of worker to land is higher among the small
operators.
32
The ratio of family workers per hectare in
31. The problem of unequal diffusion has been well documented. See K.
Griffin, The Green Revolution: An Economic Analysis (Geneva: United
Nations Research Institute for Social Development, 1972); F.R. Frankel,
India's Green Revolution, Economic Gain and Political Costs (Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton V.P., 1976); Development Research Digest. ''The Green
Revolution and Rural Technology," special issue, no. 2,1978.
32. Detailed statistical illustration of the statements made here can be
found in Gibbons 'et aI., op. cit. and in R. De Koninck, "Comment
capturer Ie potentiel productif des petits paysans," Anthropologies et
Societes. 3: 3 (1979b), pp. 87-108. Several elements of the present analysis
were initially presented in that paper.
36
Table 1
Pearson Correlations between Farm Size and
Measures of Input in Aceh and Malaysia, 1975
much more substantial by peasants with larger holdings
(table 1, rows 4,5,6). Here, except for the household labor
measure, all input measures are comparable between the
large and the small farms, to such a degree that the correla
tion between sizes and ratios of intensity is not significant
(rows 8, 9,10).
Measures of input Aceh Malaysia
1. Size of household (hh) .22 .47
2. Number of hh members fully
employed on hh farm
3. Proportion of land double cropped
4. Annual expenditure onhired labor
5. Annual expenditure on
industrial fertilizers
6. All annual production
expenditures
7. Number of hh workers
per hectare
8. Annual expenditure on non-hh
workers per hectare
9. Annual expenditure in fertilizers
per hectare
.13
- .34
- .25
.27
.33
-.48
-.13
- .20
.35
-.27
.72
.65
.72
-.45
NS*
NS
Table 2.
Average Padi Yields per Hectare by
Farm Size Category in Aceh and Malaysia, 1975
Yield of padi
per hectare
Farm size categories based during tbe
on main season hectarage main season
No. of
Yield of padi
per hectare
duringtbe
offseason
house- In In
Aceh holds kilos Indexed kilos Indexed
1. <0.2 hectare 34 5,106 100
2. 0.2 to 0.3 71 3,286 65
2,047 100
2,120 104
10. Total annual production - .27 NS 3. 0.3 to 0.4 28 3,545 70 1,597 76
Number of households sampled 422 336
4.
5.
0.4 to 0.5
0.5 to 0.6
35
68
2,485
2,418
49
48
1,881
1,439
92
71
I
I
,
I
~
I
. ~
1
I
Average size of padi land operated .64 1.78
during main season hectare hectare
NS = Not significant when P <. 0.05.
creases tremendously as farm sizes decrease, hence the
strongly negative correlation between farm size and family
farm labor intensity (table 1, row 7). As a consequence,
smaller operators tend to practice double cropping in a
much more systematic manner (row 3). This is true of both
study areas.
At the level of expenditures for non-household hired
labor and industrial fertilizers, however, there is a notice
able difference between the two regions. In Aceh, despite
the fact that the large operators do spend more overall,
their expenditures per hectare are much lower than those
of the small operators. Particularly striking are the higher
expenditures for hired labor per hectare by small opera
tors,33 which underscore the fact that cultivation is much
more intensive on the smaller holdings.
In Malaysia this phenomenon is much less noticeable.
Other than the negative correlation between the ratio of
family workers per hectare and farm size, similarities with
Aceh are minimal. Total operational expenditures are
6. 0.6 to 0.7
7. 0.7toO.8
8. 0.8 to 1.0
9. 1.0 to 1.2
10. 1.2 to 2.0
11. > 2.0 hectares
TOTAL
Pearson correlation
Malaysia
1. < 0.6 hectare
2. 0.6 to 0.8
3. 0.8 to 1.0
4. 1.0 to 1.2
5. 1.2 to 1.6
6. 1.6t02.1
7. 2.1 to 2.7
8. 2.7 t03.0
9. 3.0 to 4.0
10. > 4.0 hectares
Total
22
38
34
37
38
17
422
(r)
37
36
36
48
31
39
32
29
24
24
336
1,980
2,510
2,886
2,606
2,274
1,644
2,859
-.27
3,463
2,826
2,908
3,315
3,280
2,949
3,015
2,993
2,930
2,687
3,061
39
50
57
51
45
33
56
100
82
84
96
95
85
87
86
85
78
88
1,440
1,210
1,065
812
684
N.A.
1,472
.19
3,032
2,618
2,538
3,131
3,098
2,573
2,181
2,410
2,728
1,903
2,665
71
60
52
40
34
N.A.
72
100
87
84
107
103
85
72
80
90
63
88
Pearson correlation (r) NS* .16
33. This coincides with the findings of other Indonesian studies. See Ann
Stoler, "Rice Harvesting in Kali Loro: a Study of Class and Labor Rela
tions in Rural Java," American Ethnologist, 4: 4 (1977) 681; Anne Booth,
op. cit., p. 66.
37
NS = Not significant when P ( 0.05
This phenomenon has crucial consequences. In Malay
sia where technological progress is much more advanced
and is applied to farms three times larger on average than in
Aceh, the intensity of land use on larger farms is already
cathing up with that achieved on smaller farms.
The Differential Yields and Merchant Surplus
Among the padi farms studied there exists a negative
correlation between size of operation and yields obtained
(table 2), one that is much more noticeable in Aceh. Dur
ing the main season, peasants who cultivate parcels smaller
than 0.2 hectare obtain yields per hectare three times larger
that those obtained by operators of two hectares or more.
In Malaysia, however, yield differences are narrower be
tween the different size categories and only the largest
operators still afford the "luxury" of relatively low yields.
As a consequence the overall average yields are higher in
Malaysia, particularly during the off-season. This is not
only due to the superior technological conditions available
there (in fact the highest yields of all are obtained by the
Acehnese minifundists) but also to the fact that the larger
producers are beginning to reap yields that are nearly equi
valent to those traditionally obtained by the smaller
producers. 34 . .
It is not difficult to understand the mechamsm behmd
this narrowing of the productivity gap between the various
categories of producers. Traditionally, small peasants had
attained nearly optimal yields and the new technology has
simply allowed them to make a marginal increase in sea
sonal yields. But they have achieved this through increases
in the inputs which have had the effect of decreasing labor
productivity. For those who had access to larger areas from
which they only obtained low or mediocre yields, the po
tential for increase was high. The new technology, com
bined with the rapid development of mercantile relations.
has allowed or even stimulated the production of a market
able surplus. The question remains, who is really responsi
ble for this increase in yield obtained on the parcels of the
larger operators? The answer is obvious: those who work
the land, that is. increasingly. wage laborers. These gener
ally originate from households less well endowed in land,
households characterized by a chronic surplus of labor and
by a chronic indebtedness caused by On
small farms, particularly in Aceh, the productIon costs of
new technology, including those for wage labor required
during peak periods, frequently are greater than the re
venue obtained through the sale of surplus padi. Hence the
members of the small peasant households must sell their
labor on the land of the larger operators whose land now
becomes the site of the generation of a marketable surplus
resulting largely from the labor of others.
In fact, the larger operators are hiring much more
outside labor in absolute terms, and it is on their farms also
34. Productivity is even higher among small tenants. The problem of land
tenure is not treated here. not because it is unimportant. but
because its discussion. which would require elaborate statistical illustra
tions. is not indispensable to the arguments presented. Suffice it to say that
the intensity of the problem that small peasants are faced with is that much
greater if they are tenants. In this manner, among farms of equal size. the
highest yields per hectare are obtained by the pure tenants. who practIce
double cropping with greater intensity.
Table 3
Pearson Correlations between Farm Size and
Measures of Output and Productivity in
Aceh and Malaysia, 1975
Measures of output and productivity Aceh Malaysia
'"
L Total annual padi production .58 .83
"
2. Total annual padi production .41 .79
commercialized
3. Yield per hectare during -.27 NS
main season
4. Yield per hectare during -.19 -.16
off season
5. Total annual padi production NS* NS
commercialized per hectare
Number of households sampled 422 336
A verage size of padi land operated 0.64 1.78
during main season hectare hectare
* NS = Not significant when P <0.05
that the share of wage labor is highest and increases most
rapidly. It should be emphasized that this wage labor is not
necessarily provided by fully proletarianized rural resi
dents. In reality. the majority of those who work on the
farms of others remain tied to farm-operating households.
Land-based peasants work for other peasants. It is those
who own or rent the smallest parcels who sell their lahor
most freely and overwork themselves the most.
In this manner the capture, the transfer. and the reali
zation of the productive potential of small peasants is
achieved. The restraint on productive forces represented
by peasants who have access solely to parcels of land whose
yield they can only improve marginally is overcome by
putting those peasants in service to the development of a
merchant agriculture which will contribute to increasing
the gap between the large and the small peasants. The
distribution of the commercial surplus provides clear evi
dence of this. In both regions, the gap at this level of
distribution is much wider than the one that prevails in the
distribution of land. For example. in Malaysia. the top
quintile in terms of farm size markets handles nearly 40
percent of the total surplus while in Aceh the equivalent
quintile handles nearly 50 percent of the surplus.
35
The
marketahle surplus is mostly in the hands of the larger
operators and it is produced by wage laborers from whom
they must extract a surplus value. It should be noted.
finally, that the smallest household farms (from which a
large porportion of that surplus-producing work force orig
inates) also contribute to the marketable surplus at a per
hectare ratio that is quite high. Indeed, the per hectare
quantity of padi produced that ends up for sale is not
noticeably lower among smaller operators, hence the ab
sence of a significant correlation between farm size and
ratio of padi commercialized (table 3, row 5).
i
i
!
!
j
,
I
1
Table 4
Pearson Correlations between Farm Size and
Measure of Income in Aceh and Malaysia, 1975
,
r
l. Real annual revenue from
hh farm
r
2. Annual net cash income from
hh farm
3. Real annual revenue from
hh farm per capita
4. Annual net cash income from
hh farm per capita
5. Annual net cash income from
hh farm per hh worker
6. Real annual revenue from
hh farm per hectare
7. Annual net cash income from
hh farm per hectare
8. Per capita home consumption
of self-produced rice
* NS = Not significant when P <. 0.05
Resistence by Self-Exploitation
How can the small producers be responsible for such
an achievement? Simply by overwork and tightening their
belts. The latter can be detected by measuring the quantity
1
of self produced rice that is home consumed. The larger the
r
operation, the larger the amount of such rice (table 4, row
8). This means that small producers tend to curtail their
r
consumption of rice, which is then replaced by less nutri
tious foodstuffs, in order to sell more padi to cover the costs
of production. This is another aspect of the "capture" of
the small peasant who is forced, first, to become the agent
in the exploitation of his own labor and, second, to lower
!
his standard of living to an even greater extent than would a
f
factory worker. The first point has recently been illustrated
by Scott while the latter was made clear long ago by
Lenin.
36
It must be stressed that this degree of exploitation
is closely linked to the small peasants' visceral resistance to
absolute proletarianization.
In this regard, the "behavior" of the minifundist peas
antry is particularly meaningful. On just about all possible
1
I
t
,
35. Detailed statistical illustrations of this concentration is presented in
De Koninck 1979a and 1979b, op. cit. In the former reference (Pacific
Affairs), a series of tables summarize the values computed to measure
labor employment and profit extracted therefrom after the sale of padi.
More elaborate computations concerning prices, wages, quantity of labor
exchanged, etc., are presented in great detail in Gibbons et a!., op. cit.
36. Cf. J. Scott, The Moral Economy of the Peasant (New Haven: Yale
f University Press, 1976); pp. 15,34,39; Lenine, 1974, op. cit., p. 9.
indicators of input and output, there is a sharp break be
tween the smallest categories of producers and the other
categories (for example, see table 2, row 1). This break
illustrates the intensity of the pressure exerted on the small
peasants and hence the intensity of their self-imposed over
work. As shown by the tables the indicators do not vary
uniformly from the smallest to the largest categories of
operators. Other factors such as ecological conditions, lo
cation of plots, and specific village communities contribute
to the explanation of phenomena that cannot be deter
mined by size of farm alone. Such is the case with land
tenure. Given parcels of equal size, the one operated under
tenancy will yield less proffit for its cultivator than the one
operated under direct ownership. However, for reasons
that cannot be detailed here, tenancy is not necessarily
characteristic of the poorest and most exploited peasants. 37
On the contrary, the most dynamic operators are generally
those who combine the cultivation of parcels they own with
parcels they rent. These owner-tenants often belong to the
intermediate size categories, and such farms often appear
as the more profitable ones. It has already been noted in
India that socio-economic stratification of the peasantry is
increasingly determined by access to land operation rather
than by simple legal property. 38 This is not to bring into
question the necessity to control land as private property,
but rather to emphasize how the concept of ownership of
the means of production is less meaningful when compared
to that of control of the means of production.
It is therefore the management more than the owner
ship of an ever larger share of the village sawah that identi
fies the more prosperous operator. This is evident when the
real annual revenue (in padi and in cash) as well as the net
cash income of the household farms are computed (table 4,
rows 1 and 2). Naturally the per capita values (rows 3 and4)
are not so unequally distributed, given the larger average
size of the families of the larger operators, but the differ
ence remains important, particularly in terms of cash in
come. This is one of the crucial characteristics of the inte
gration of small commodity production into the capitalist
mode of production. The acceleration in the accumulation
of surplus value originates from employment of wage labor
in agriculture by a class of farmer-entrepreneurs. The
monetary surplus, created by the overall surplus labor
(hired labor as well as unpaid family labor) exerted on the
farm, is concealed because it remains with the operating
family. The bigger the farm operation, the larger the pro
portion and the total quantity of hired labor involved, as is
the case, for example, with harvesting (table 5). This illus
trates eloquently the subtlety of the transition to capitalist
relations of production. Following Marx's own assessment,
the extortion of the surplus, from "opaque" (visible), be
comes "transparent" (invisible). That surplus is rarely dis
tributed equitably among the members of the households
that reap it. In fact, no revenue, whether monetary or not,
can be assumed to be distributed equally among family mem
bers, but this phenomenon, however important, cannot be
37. Cf. Gibbons et a!., op. cit.; D.S. Gibbons, Lim Teck Ghee; G.R.
Elliston and Shukur Kassim, Land Tenure in the Muda Irrigation Scheme
(Penang: Centre for Policy Research, 1981).
38. B. Dasgupta, "Agrarian Change and the New Technology in India,"
De\'elopmelll Research Digest. 2 (Autumn 1978), pp. 19-24 (21).
Aceh Malaysia
.48 .78
.33 .70
.20 .50
.25 .49
.38 .51
-.26 -.21
-.17 NS*
.19 .25
t
39
J
4
TableS
Farm Size Categories and Relative and Absolute Quantities of Wage Labor in Harvesting!
,.
Work Accomplished by Non-Household Hired Labor:
Relative Quantity Absolute Quantity
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)
Size Categories of Padi Number Average Size of As%of Theoretical
Land Operated in a Year of Cases Land Operated Total Harvesting Values
2
(Two Seasons) in Hectares Work Accomplished
Average Index Average Index
Malaysia
Small 126 1.26 41.4 100 52.2 100
Medium 83 2.48 57.1 138 141.6 271
Large 127 5.49 52.0 126 285.5 547
Total 336 3.15 49.3 119 155.3 298
Aceh
Small 145 0.32 25.8 100 8.3 100
Medium 170 0.83 30.7 119 25.5 307
Large 107 1.70 38.3 148 65.1 784
Total 422 0.88 30.7 119 27.0 325
1. This table has already appeared in De Koninck, 1979a. It is reproduced here with the kind permission of the editor of Pacific Affairs.
2. These provide a crude measure of the total quantity of work accomplished by non-household hired labor. To obtain this abstract and comparative
value, it is necessary to multiply the relative amount of work accomplished by hired laborers by the amount of land on which it is accomplished
(column 3 x column 2).
examined here. The smallest social unit considered in this profit, to the trading and industrial sectors through the
paper is the household or family, but this does not imply purchase of inputs of industrial origin for which the small
that children and particularly women's position in the rela peasants, particularly those of Aceh, become indebted.
..
tions of production in padi agriculture are secondary. Any The negative correlation between farm size and net annual
class analysis that does not scrutinize the specific position of farm yield calculated in monetary terms is even stronger in
women must be considered incomplete. Even though this Aceh. This fits in with the rate of the diffusion of the new
article does not do so, I have taken up the issue else technology, which is more advanced in Malaysia. Rice
where.
39
cultivation in Malaysia is much more commercialized, and
Other indicators illustrate the implications of the the realization of potential productivity has reached such a
transfer of the productive potential which, in the end, level that the larger operations now obtain comparable
corresponds to a form of "value transfer." The most ra physical yields.
40
As a consequence, such farms corner a
tional operations, in terms of return per hectare calculated disproportionate share of the overall social product
in monetary terms, are the smallest ones. Although more through extortion of surplus value in situ.
efficient in generating a social product, these small peas The outcome of the transfer of the productive poten
ants are not those who benefit from it. Not only does the tial of the small, land-tied peasantry to the hands of others
labor of the small peasants largely produce the productivity and the transformation of their labor into a commodity, is
increases achieved on the parcels of larger operators, but the consolidation of the social division of labor and of the
also the surplus from the labor the small peasants exert on unequal distribution of the social product. This "capture"
their own parcels is transferred, in terms of real monetary
39. For further analysis of the role of women please see R. De Koninck, 40. This was verified when two of the villages studied in 1975 were
"Of Rice, Men, Women and Machines," Jurnal Economi Malaysia. 3/4, surveyed again in 1980 and 1981. Yield differences which were still appar
June-December 1981a.
40
ent in 1975 had just about vanished. See R. De Koninck, op. cit., 1981a.
t
of the small peasantry with its exceptional efficiency in
cultivating the land is profitable for an emerging class, that
of the farmer-entrepreneurs, which has taken over the
responsibility of the surplus. However, this very commer
cialization is achieved at the expense of the entire rural

sector which becomes overspecialized in the production of
I
an underpaid commodity.
r
Peasants Have Become Tools of Accumulation
J
,.
All this takes place in a context where class formation
is accelerated and conditioned by the overall integration of
t
I
the rice producing sector into the national economy,
in turn is closely linked with the world market. Therem hes
the reason for the erosion of the so-called subsistence ethic
analyzed by Scott.41 Among the communities studied there
is ample evidence of the gradual disappearance of tradi
tional practices for the social redistribution of surplus.
Although, as expected, such practices are more persistent
in Aceh than in Malaysia, there also they have become
marginal.
Among the communities studied, three forms of such
traditional practices were assessed. These were gifts to
relatives, non-kin fellow villagers, and religious institu
tions. In Aceh, the average value of such gifts was equal to
nearly 15 percent of the total value of net income, the
respective categories reaching 4.99 percent, 4.24 percent
and 5.59 percent. Among the Malaysian villagers, the aver
age total stands at less than 3 percent, with the individual
values coming to 1.30 percent, 0.80 percent and 0.83 per
cent. Besides these differences between the two countries
in proportionate value of category of gifts and total gifts
handed out, there is an additional significant feature. In
Aceh, there is still a slightly positive correlation between
the value of the gifts and farm size, which indicates a form
of social redistribution. In Malaysia, the correlation is
negative.
42
Even group labor for operations such as transplanting
and harvesting is increasingly conditioned by constraints
linked to the timing of irrigation, the use of modem rice
varieties, and the need to harvest them rapidly. But the
, .
fundamental restructuring of traditional agriculture pres
! ently has most to do with the use of industrial fertiizers.
Because it is an integral part of the Green Revolution
package, contribution of fertilizers to increased is
difficult to assess separately.43 Whatever the case, mdus
trial fertilizers have been made nearly indispensable to the
peasants cultivating rice either for their own consumption
or the national market. That is the ultimate irony. Not only
are the rice cultivating peasantries becoming ever more
41. J. Scott, op. cit.
42. More detailed treatment of this issue can be found in Gibbons et aI.,
op. cit., chapter 9 in particular; and in L. Audet, "Deveioppement ou
destructuration et dependance. Impact de la revolution verte en Malaysia
et en Indonesie," unpublished M.A. thesis (Quebec, Universite Laval,
1982).
43. See R. De Koninck and L. Audet, "Fertilizers for Rice: Who Wins,
Who Loses? A Contribution to the Analysis of Dependency in Malaysia
and Indonesia," in G.B. Hainsworth (ed.), The Political Economy oj Rice
and Water (Vancouver, U.B.c. Press, 1982); Anne Booth, op. cit., p. 60;
S. Ortiz, "Reflections on the Concept of Peasant Culture and Peasant
Cognitive Systems," in Teodor Shanin (ed), Peasants and Peasant Societies
(Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1971), pp. 322-336 (334).
specialized in producing a surplus of their staple food, but
that very production is dependent on an input controlled by
industry which provides the "information." The
are reduced to providing the work force. Furthermore, m
facilitating the diffusion of chemical fertilizer use, the In
donesian state has rendered peasant agriculture energy
hungry.44 Dependent on industrial prices and to an ever
greater extent energy prices, the padi producers must
necessarily be at the mercy of state policies. With control of
rice prices, subsidies for fertilizer become indispensable. In
this manner, padi producers become the relays for what
amounts to a support for industry (the fertilizer industry)
which happens to be extremely costly and dependent on
foreign technology and capital. 45 Such are the basic compo
nents of the overall state cum capital collaboration which
determine the market for which padi producing peasants
are being conditioned to work. The majority of them might
still possess a minimal control over their labor process, but
even that is likely to be called into question by the need for
further increases in labor productivity, further concentra
tion and accumulation.
Although in Aceh the actual scene is basically as de
scribed, recent developments in the Kedah plain of Malay
sia point to an acceleration of the integration into the
market economy. The introduction of mechanized harvest
ing is having a tremendous impact on the labor market.
More specifically the bargaining power of the communal
labor gangs, composed predominantly of women, is now
seriously weakened. Briefly, this can be explained as fol
lows. U ntiI recently the more intensive operations of trans
planting and cutting were almost exclusively carried out by
women, generally working in labor gangs. When the com
bine-harvesters were first introduced in the Malaysian
study region in the late seventies, these female labor groups
refused to carry out transplanting on the parcels of those
who had hired the machines for the previous harvest. This
precipitated the now (1981-1982) spreading reliance on
broadcasting as a replacement for transplanting. Conse
quently, the specialized labor of women is in decreasing
demand. Furthermore, the widespread use of combine har
vesters in tum contributes to a rapid increase in labor
productivity and changes completely the labor-capital rela
tion. The resulting complex chain reaction is the object of
ongoing research. 46
While such changes are not yet strongly apparent in
Indonesia, due to the built-in dynamism of the peasantry,
policy makers can be expected to try and think of further
ways- of conditioning their work to the market economy,
following a process which combines the alienation of the
territory with the alienation of labor. 47 *
44. T.M. Slayter and I.G.N. Exawirya, "The Fertilizer Situation," BIES,
14: 2 (July 1978), pp. 70-84; I.P.G. Warr, "Survey of Recent Develop
ments," BIES, 16: 3 (November 1980), pp. 1-31.
45. De Koninck and Audet, op. cit.; R. De Koninck and C. Comtois,
"Asean's Growing Integration Within World Trade," Asean Business
Quarterly, 4:3 (1980), 27-34.
46. For further analysis of this question and of the dynamics of the sexual
division of labor, see R. De Koninck, 1981a, op. cit. as well as "Travail,
espace, pouvoir dans les rizieres du Kedah: reflexions sur la depossession
d'un territoire," Cahiers de Geographie du Quebec, 25: 66 (December
1981b).
47. Ibid.
4\
East Timor: The Responsibility of the United States
by Richard W. Franke*
Honorable Jurors of the Tribunal:
In the preamble to the Universal Declaration of the
Rights of Peoples, there is invoked both a spirit of hope and
a sense of despair. The hope derives from the rising tide of
liberation movements and the consequent emancipation of
millions of the most oppressed and downtrodden peoples
of the world, along with the inspiration which the most
successful movements have given to those who still live
under the domination of foreign interests.
This hope, however, must still be tempered with de
spair in many parts of the world. The Universal Declara
tion is quite specific in characterizing the sources of the
continuing despair when it declares that:
Imperialism, using vicious methods, with the complicity of
[?overnments that it has itself often installed, continues to
dominate a part of the world. Through direct or indirect
intervention, throu[?h multinational enterprises, through
manipulation ofcorrupt local politicians, with the assistance
of military regimes based on police repression, torture. and
physical extermination of opponents, through a set ofprac
tices that has become known as neocolonialism, imperialism
extends its stranglehold over many peoples.
From the point of view of a US citizen, it seems a
particular irony that the Algiers Declaration of the Rights
of Peoples should have been promulgated on 4 July, 1976,
exactly 200 years to the day after the US Declaration of
Independence was issued, a declaration which states in part
that:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are
created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with
certain unalienable Ri[?hts . ..
and
That whenever any Form of Government becomes destruc
tive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to
abolish it, and to institute new Government . ..
This paper was presented at the Permanent Peoples' Tribunal on East
Timor, 19-21 June, 1981
42
The irony of that coincidence of dates, however, is far
surpassed by the tragedy of an even more important coinci
dence: for even as the Universal Declaration of the Rights
of Peoples was being promulgated, Indonesia, one of the
largest and most prominent nations of the Third World,
was carrying out a brutal suppression of the rights of the
people of East Timor. This suppression was, and contiues
to be, both the direct and indirect responsibility of one of
the most powerful imperial states, The United States of
America.
The responsibility of the US in the denial and suppres
sion of the rights of the people of East Timor encompasses
many aspects, all of them referred to in one way or another
in the Algiers Declaration. In this submission to the Perma
nent Peoples' Tribunal, I want to address six principal areas
of US responsibility. These are:
1. That U.S. Government and US business leaders have
maintained a general strategy in Southeast Asia that
neglects the needs and interests of the peoples of the
region and views the region almost entirely as a source
of raw materials and/or cheap labor,
2. That as a consequence of this strategy, the US played a
major role in destabilizing and eventually overthrowing
the progressive, anti-imperialist government of Presi
dent Sukarno of Indonesia and helped to install the
military regime of General Suharto which is primarily
responsible for crimes against the people of East Timor,
3. That before and during the massive Indonesian invasion
of December 1975, and throughout the most brutal at
tacks by the invading forces, the US Government of
fered and supplied a continuous flow of the military
equipment necessary to sustain the invasion,
4. That the US Government gave consistent diplomatic
support to its Indonesian client state in the carrying out
of the invasion and continuing occupation of the Demo
cratic Republic of East Timor,
5. That spokespersons for the US Government have con
ducted a campaign of distortion and misrepresentation
of the facts of the East Timor case to confuse US and
world opinion, and
"',
DJAIIARTA
Indian O c e a n ~ O ~ ~ .. ""
East
Timor
I II
1oo
m1s
Australia
i
1
I
1
t
f

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j
I
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I
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6. That, most recently, the US Government has main
tained a duplicitous and illegal position in East Timor,
helping the Indonesian regime to hold hostage even the
humanitarian aid programs that might at least ease some
of the material suffering of the East Timorese people at
the present time.
The demonstration of these six areas of US responsi
bility can be made by viewing both the actual deeds of the
US Government over the past several years and even the
r
statements of many high-ranking officials who have been
r
f
clumsy and revealing in their attempts to cover up what
t they were doing, or who have stated with remarkable can
1
dor just how responsible they and the US Government
i
have been.
I I. The US Strategy in Southeast Asia
,
I
One of the most important responsibilities of the US in
the eventual invasion and occupation of East Timor by
Indonesia arises from the overall military and economic
;
strategy of the US in the Southeast Asian region. For the
l
first half of the twentieth century, the US was a traditional
I colonial power in the region, having forcibly replaced
~
~
Spain as ruler of The Philippines in 1899.
1
During World
I
t
1. An account of US public opposition to the war of colonial conquest in
the Philippines is Daniel B. Schirmer, Republic or Empire: American Resis
tance to the Philippine War. Cambridge, Mass., Schenkman Publishing
Company, 1972. Schirmer estimates that while the war against Spain cost
J
only a few thousand lives in removing the previous colonial power, the
~
43
1
I
i
(Richard W. Franke)
War II, US forces played a major role in ejecting Japanese
occupying troops from much of Southeast Asia, and, fol
lowing the war, the US claimed large portions of the Pacific
island region which it still administers as "Trust Territor
ies" but maintains primarily for military reasons.
2
Since
1945, US political and business leaders have seen Southeast
Asia as a primary source of important raw materials. There
is substantial evidence for this conclusion, of which I shall
give just a few of the best-known pieces.
In justifying the growing US involvement in support of
French colonial rule in Indochina, for example, US News
and World Report, a conservative business-oriented news
weekly, told its readers on 4 April, 1954 that:
One of the world's richest areas is open to the winner in
Indochina. That's behind the growing U.S. concern . .. tin,
rubber, rice. key strategic raw materials are what the war is
really all about. The U.S. sees it as a place to hold-at any
cost.
Just one year earlier the same point had been made by
no less than the President of the United States, former
General Dwight Eisenhower. In defending $400 million in
ensuing "pacification" of Philippine independence forces on the island of
Luzon alone cost as many as 600,000 lives (p.ix). The US thus has a
tradition of involvement in Southeast Asian massacres that goes back
eighty years.
2. A critical overview of US policies in one part of the Pacific is Donald F.
McHenry, Micronesia: Trust Betrayed. Carnegie Endowment for Interna
tional Peace, New York, 1975.
The entire foreign policy of the US in Southeast
Asia since 1945 is a policy ofseizing riches, build
ing anticommunist alliances, keeping down the costs of
raw materials, holding onto strategic sea lanes and
other military objectives. It is not a policy designed
primarily to promote national independence, econom
ic development, or liberation of peoples from colonial
ism or imperialism.
US aid to the French war against the Indochinese people,
Eisenhower asked if "we lost" Vietnam and Malaysia,
"how would the free world hold the rich empire of In
donesia?" Aiding the French war, he argued, was "the
cheapest way ... to get certain things we need from the
riches of the Indonesian territory."3
By the 1960s, US strategists had actually taken over
the French war in Indochina, but their basic attitudes re
mained the same. Henry Cabot Lodge, member of a lead
ing business and financial family, a former US Ambassador
to the United Nations, former US Senator, and at the time
US Ambassador to South Vietnam, defended US troop
build-ups in that country, noting that:
He who holds or has influence in Vietnam can affect the
future of . .. Malaysia and Indonesia with their rubber, oil,
and tin to the South.
4
And, writing in the journal Foreign Affairs, which is
published by the Council on Foreign Relations, a major
policy-making group of businessmen and bankers, former
Vice President and soon-to-be President Richard M. Nixon
wrote in 1967 that:
... with its 100 million people and its 3,OOO-mile arc of
islands containing the region's richest hoard of natural re
sources,Indonesia constitutes byfar the greatest prize in the
Southeast Asian area. 5
More recently, US strategists have added military and
political factors to their analysis of "empire," "prize," and
"hoard of resources." In 1973, for example, Lawrence
Griswold wrote in the official journal of the Navy League of
the United States that:
Indonesia is endowed with what is probably the most strateg
ically authoritative geographic location on earth. 6
Most recently, on 10 June, 1980, Assistant Secretary
of State Richard Holbrooke told a US Congressional panel
how important Indonesia is to the entire Western alliance
in Asia, led, of course, by the US.
3. Quoted in "Indonesia: the Making of a Neocolony." Pacific Studies
Center, Palo Alto, California, August, 1969, p. 1.
4. Henry Cabot Lodge. "We Can Win in Vietnam," New York Times
Magazine, 17 January, 1965, reprinted in the Congressional Record, 19
January, 1965, vol. Ill, part 1, pp. 916-17.
5. Richard M. Nixon. "Asia After Vietnam," Foreign Affairs, vol. 46, no.
1, October, 1967, pp. 111.
6. Quoted in Michael Klare, "Indonesia and the Nixon Doctrine" in Ten
Years' Military Terror in Indonesia, edited by Malcolm Caldwell, pp. 265
74. Nottingham. Spokesman Books. Quote from p. 271, 1975.
Indonesia, with a population of 140 million people, is the
fifth largest nation in the world. It has the largest Muslim
population in the world, is a moderate member of the Non
Aligned Movement, is an important oil producer-which
plays a moderate role within OPEC -andoccupies a strate
gic position astride the sea lanes between the Pacific and
Indian Oceans . ... It has played a central role in supporting
Thailand and maintaining the security ofThailand in theface
of Vietnam's destabilizing actions in Indochina . ... Indo
nesia, is, of course, important to key U.S. allies in the
region, especially Japan and Australia. 7
The entire foreign policy of the US in Southeast Asia
since 1945 is exemplified in the several quotes above. It is a
policy of seizing riches, building anticommunist alliances,
keeping down the costs of raw materials, holding onto
strategic sea lanes and other military objectives. It is not a
policy designed primarily to promote national indepen
dence, economic development, or liberation of peoples
from colonialism or imperialism. Whenever the needs of
Southeast Asian people come into conflict with the needs of
the Empire, the people are sacrificed. The responsibility of
the US in East Timor thus rests firstly and ultimately in the very
policies that emanate from Washington vis a vis the entire
region ofSoutheast Asia. This helps to explain the consistent
pattern of behavior of the US Government during the
liberation struggle in East Timor.
II. The US Destabilized the Sukarno Government and
Helped. Install the SuhartoMilitary Regime inIndonesia
Honorable Jurors of the Tribunal:
In keeping with its general strategy in Southeast Asia,
the US Government became increasingly hostile towards the
progressive, anti-imperialist government of Indonesia that
developed in the 1950s under the leadership ofSukarno. In a
lengthy and detailed essay entitled "Exporting Military-Eco
nomic Development: America and the Overthrow of Sukar
no, 1965-67," Professor Peter Dale Scott has traced the
origins of US destabilizing efforts back to the early 1950s and
has described many of the organizations that took part in the
eventual campaign to replace Sukamo with a regime more
willing to cater to US interests. These organizations included
the Council on Foreign Relations, the CIA, the Ford Foun
dation, Harvard University, the Rand Corporation (a CIA
think-tank), the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and
several US corporations, all of whose resources were used in
one way or another to plant agents, train pro-US operatives,
interfere in Indonesian policy decisions, etc.
8
Most dramatic,
of course, was the 1965 coup and subsequent massacre of
between 200,000 and one million Indonesians, but several
other events are worthy of note because they indicate how
deeply involved and thus how thoroughly responsible is the
US Government for the Suharto regime's coming to power
and its eventual invasion of East Timor.
7. Hearings, Subcommittee of the Committee on Appropriations, House
of Representatives, June 10,1980, Part 6, pp. 2-3. Document No. H131
113. Washington, D.C. U.S. GovemmentPrintingOffice.
8. Peter Dale Scott. "Exporting Military-Economic Development:
America and the Overthrow of Sukarno, 1965-67." In Ten Years' Military
Terror in Indonesia, edited by Malcolm Caldwell, pp. 209-261. Notting
ham. Spokesman Books, 1975.
44
1958: A First Attempt
Honorable Jurors of the Tribunal
US involvement in overthrowing the Sukarno govern
ment reached its first high point in 1958. A rebellion in the
"outer islands" including Sumatra and Sulawesi was partly
financed by the CIA, a fact revealed when a CIA pilot, Allen
Pope, was shot down after a bombing run in the Moluccas.
Pope had previously flown supplies for the French at Dien
bienphu and was living in South Vietnam when he was
recruited by the CIA for its Indonesian adventure. The outer
islands rebellion, however, did not succeed in overthrowing
Sukarno.
9
The Sacrifice of West Irian: 1962
A second major event in the US strategy to overthrow
Sukarno was the coercing of The Netherlands into granting
Indonesia control over the colonization of West Irian (West
New Guinea). Initially, the Indonesian victory over a last
remaining Dutch foothold in its former East Indies colony
appeared to be a concession by the Western powers. The
recent publication of a secret letter from President Kennedy
to the Dutch Government, however, reveals that the main
US concern was not in getting the Dutch out of Southeast
Asia, nor in providing an opportunity for self-determination
for the lrianese. Rather, the US feared that active warfare
between Indonesia and The Netherlands might lead to an
increase in left-wing influence in Indonesia, and, as Ken
nedy's letter put it:
I
Such a conflict would have adverse consequences out of all
proportions to the issue at stake .... Only the Communists
would benefit from such a conflict . ... The whole rwn-Com
munist position in Vietnam, Thailand, and Malaya would be in
grave peril and as you know these are areas in which we in the
I
United States have heavy commitments and burdens. \0 (Em
phasis added.)
I
The peaceful transition from Dutch to Indonesian con
trol over West Irian was thus part of a larger US strategy to
weaken liberation forces. Even a loyal NATO ally such as
t
The Netherlands had to submit to the larger imperial con
j
cerns of the US.
I
The Vietnam War: 19<*-67
Honorable Jurors of the Tribunal:
j
'$
<Ii
There is substantial evidence linking US actIvIties
j
against the Sukarno Government to the massive US invasion
of Vietnam. The most intense period of this invasion was
from 1964 to 1967, precisely the period during which Indone
sian politics catapulted from tension into open physical com
bat in which a parlianlentary left wing was anniliilated by
right wing military and paramilitary forces.
9. David Wise and Thomas Ross. The Invisible Government. New York,
Random House, 1964. pp. 145-57.
10. As published in J.G. de Beus, Morgen bi} het aanbreken van de dag,
cited in Kees Lagerberg, West Irian andJakarta Imperialism. New York, St.
Martin's Press, 1979, p. 87. De Beus was the Dutch ambassador to
Australia during much of the period in question.
45
In response to a call from Fretilin, more than 20,()()() East Timorese demon
strated on May 20, 1975 in the largest public gathering in East Timor's history.
(Richard W. Franke)
The importance of Vietnam to Indonesia has been
spelled out by several high-ranking US officials. Richard
Nixon, for example, argued in 1%7 that the US troop de
ployments in Vietnam were
a vital factor in the turnaround in Indonesia. . . . It provided a
shield behind which the anti-communistforcesfound the cour
age and the capacity to stage their countercoup. 11
US political commentator James Reston, who has di
rect access to high-ranking government officials, wrote in
The New York Times on 19 June, 1966 that:
it is doubtful if the coup would ever have been attempted
without the American show of strength in Vietnam or been
sustained without the clandestine aid it has received indirectly
from here [i.e. Washington] .12
I
!
f
11. Quoted in Scott, op. cit., p. 216. i
12. The New York Times, 19 June, 1966.
i
,
For the first time, under the leadership of Fretilin, the deeply impoverished
masses ofEast Timor learned to read and write their own language. (Richard
W. Franke)
A 1966 pro-war advertisement in The New York Times,
signed by several notable figures from the CIA and the
Council on Foreign Relations, also argued that:
The American military presence in Vietnam ... provided a
shield for the sharp reversal of Indonesia's shift towards
Communism. 13
US Military Aid to Indonesia
Finally, behind the shield of US aircraft, naval bom
bardment, and marines in Vietnam, the US was quietly
aiding the Indonesian military even during periods when
relations between Washington and Jakarta were strained.
As US Pentagon official Paul Warnke explained to a US
Congressional panel in 1968,
The purpose for which it was maintained was not to support an
existing [i.e. Sukarno} regime. In fact, we were opposed,
13. Quoted in Scott, op. cit., p. 216.
eventually and increasingly to the then existing regime. It was
to preserve a liaison of sorts with the military of the country
which in effect turned out to be one ofthe conclusive elements
in the overthrow ofthat regime. 14
Equally unabashed in his praise of the effects of the US
military aid even while Sukarno was still in power, was
Congressperson Silvio Conte.
I remember taking a tremendous amount ofheat on the floor of
the House when Sukarno told us to get out . .. but . .. it was
as a result ofcontinuing aid and continuing that small i ~ i t a r y
program that Sukarno was thrown out and a democratic [sic}
form of government was put in, without firing one shot {sic},
without losing one American life. IS
And, on 3 March, 1976, even as Indonesian forces were
massacring East Timorese, Congressperson Broomfield
stated on the House floor:
I think probably one of the best areas we can look at is the
Indonesia of a few years ago with Sukarno. Through our
training program we trained many ofthe military people who
were able to take over Indonesia and they have become friends
ofthe United States. I think they have done a goodjob.
16
What was this aid being referred to? By 1964, the US
had trained over 500 Indonesian police officials, some 1200
military officers, including senior military figures, and had
participated in the training of 62,000 of the 11O,000-member
national police.
17
In addition, there were numerous high
level contacts between US intelligence personnel and In
donesian officers. IS The indirect responsibility of the US in
installing the Suharto regime is thus clear. But was there also
direct involvement in the 1965 coup itself?
The 1965 Coup
Honorable Jurors of the Tribunal:
Public awareness of US-sponsored and organized coups
d'etat to topple popularly elected or revolutionary govern
ments have gone through three general stages. During the
1950s, as for example in Iran and Guatemala, CIA involve
ment was widely known and the US Government depended
upon the anticommunist hysteria created in the period 1946
54 to gain national if not international acquiescence. During
the 1970s, by contrast, US interference in the affairs of other
nations, such as Chile and Jamaica, has come to light against
the wishes of the government, but because of the courageous
work of certain journalists and the continuing defection of
highly placed CIA and other personnel who have become
disgusted with their work. In the 1960s, however, and partic
ularly in the case of the Indonesian right-wing takeover and
14. U.S. House, 1968, Foreign Assistance Act of 1968. Hearings, House
Foreign Affairs Committee, Washington, D.C., U.S. Government Print
ing Office, p. 706.
15. Foreign Assistance and Related Agencies Appropriations for 1976, hear
ings, House Appropriations Committee, part 2, p. 631, as quoted in
Lenny Siegel, "Arming Indonesia," Pacific Studies Center, 1975, p. 1.
16. Congressional Record, Vol. 122, no. 29, March 3, 1976, p. H1539, as
quoted in Siegel, ibid.
17. ibid., p. 1.
18. Scott, op. cit., pp. 220-27 and 232-45.
46
Chung Hee Park" in Korea. 21 Ambassador Green remarked
later to an audience of Australian scholars that "we did what
By installing a government based on massive terror
and military rule, the US was placing in power, with
the aid of certain right-wing forces within Indonesia,
the kind of government that would not be willing to
tolerate even the most moderately progressive inde
pendent neighbor; for that neighbor could become an
example for the exploited and potentially restless peas
ant population on which Jakarta's generals have
forced their will. In this way, the US, through its role
in installing the Suharto regime, bears a heavy re
sponsibility in what was to happen in East Timor ten
years later.
bloodbath against the left, an almost successful wall of se
crecy was maintained; so much so, indeed, that many people
still believe the right -wing takeover was primarily a response
to an attempted left-wing coup and the bloodbath that
followed represented the legitimate anger of the Indonesian
people against the left, or a mass psychosis of "running
amok" (amok being an Indonesian-Malay word). 19
In recent years, however, the role of the US has become
increasingly clear. During October of 1965, two representa
tives of the Bertrand Russel Peace Foundation were in Ja
karta. As reported by Russell:
In Jakarta few had any doubt about what was taking place
around them. The United States Seventh Fleet was in Javanese
waters. The largest base in the area,feverishly constructed by
the United States but a few months earlier on the southernmost
point of the southernmost island of The Philippines, was
ordered"on alert." General Nasution had a mission in Wash
ington. The United States was directly involved in the dny to
dny events. 20
Other evidence linking the US directly to the installa
tion of General Suharto in power is circumstantial but sig
nificant. In June 1965, Bernardo Hugh Tovar, a high-rank
ing CIA operative with experience in the Philippines in the
1950s and who was later to work in Laos and then Bangkok,
was joined in Jakarta by the new US Ambassador, Marshall
Green, who "had direct experience in the CIA-sponsored
replacement of Syngman Rhee by the military regime of
19. "At the end of October 1965, the long-suffering country ran amuck.
... People who knew the Indonesians and the tonnent they were under
going [at the hands of Sukamo and what the author calls "godless Com
munists"] were predicting a bloody end to their patience as far back as
1964. " Wilfred T. Neill. Twentieth Century Indonesia. New York. Columbia
University Press. 1973. pp. 354-55. In Time Out of Hand: Revolution and
Reaction in Southeast Asia (New York, Harper and Row, 1969) Robert
Shaplen explains that "politics in Indonesia had never had a rational
development" and that "the mass killings that occurred in the name of the
attempted coup may be judged as the almost inevitable excesses of a riven
nation whose repressed demons and furies were ultimately bound to
produce some such cataclysm." (p. 26).
20 .Quoted in Deidre Griswold. Indonesia: The Second Greatest Crime of
the Century. New York. World View Publishers. 1979 (orig. 1970), p. 13.
21. Scott, op. cit .. p. 243.
we had to do and you'd better be glad we did because if we
hadn't Asia would be a different place today. "22 Green was
referring to the September 30, 1965, events in Jakarta.
Most dramatically, in just the past two months an im
portant new piece of information has been added on the
question of US involvement in the Indonesian coup. Ralph
McGehee, who worked for the CIA from 1952 to 1977, and
specialized in "Communist terminology, techniques and
modes of communications" has described, based on his per
sonal involvement in the events, the orchestration of the 1965
coup and the subsequent mass killings of progressive forces
by CIA methods, operatives, and planning. McGehee's arti
cle was censored by the CIA, and a total of 10% sentences
and 43 words was deleted. Even with the deletions, how
ever, the role of the CIA is clear: for example, McGehee
writes of the 1965 events as a "CIA [one word deleted]
operation," and
The Agency chose [four words deleted] as its vehicle for
overthrowing Sukarno and armed tens of thousands of their
subordinates.
McGehee continues:
The Agency was extremely proud of its successful [one word
deleted] and recommended it as a model for future opera
tions [1f2 sentence deleted]. 23
Finally, high-ranking journalists in the US sent little
glimmers of information out of the closed rooms of the US
plotters in brief reports on how the events were viewed in
Washington. Max Frankel, for example, noted in The New
York Times on 12 March, 1966, after the major extermina
tion campaigns had been underway for months, that:
The Johnson Administration found it difficult today to hide its
delight with the news from Indonesia . ... After a long
period of patient diplomacy designed to help the army tri
umph over the Communists. officials were elated to find their
expectations being realized. 24
Three months later, on 19 June, 1966, columnist
James Reston was more explicit. Entitling his New York
Times column "A Gleam of Light in Asia," Reston noted
that:
Washington is careful not to claim any credit for the coup and
massacres, but this does not mean that Washington had
nothing to do with it. There was a great deal more contact
between the anti-communist forces in that country and at
least one very high official in Washington before and during
the Indonesian massacre than is generally realized. 25
22. ibid .. p. 244.
23. This information appears in an article with the title 'The CIA and the
White Paper on El Salvador," by Ralph McGehee, in The Nation. 11 April.
1981, pp. 423-25. An account of the lawsuit regarding the deleted words
and sentences was carried in the Washington Post. 28 March. 1981, p. 20.
24. The New York Times. 12 March, 1966.
25. The New York Times. 19 June, 1966. ProfessorW.F. Wertheim has put
together several threads of evidence that suggest General Suharto may
have himself been a double agent in the left-wing coup, thus assuring his
own seizure of power for the right. See "Suharto and the Untung Coup
47
Honorable Jurors of the Tribunal:
There is considerable evidence to justify the conclu
sion that the US worked directly and indirectly, "using
vicious methods" to install a client government in Indone
sia. What is even more important for purposes of this
Tribunal, by installing a government based on massive
terror and military rule, the US was placing in power, with
the aid of certain right-wing forces within Indonesia, the
kind of government that would not be willing to tolerate
even the most moderately progressive independent neigh
bor; for that neighbor could become an example for the
exploited and potentially restless peasant population on
which Jakarta's generals have forced their will. In this way,
the US, through its role in installing the Suharto regime,
bears a heavy responsibility in what was to happen in East
Timor ten years later.
US Military Aid to the Indonesian Regime
Within a short period after the fall of Sukarno, the US
Government began stepped-up arms deliveries along with
massive economic aid to the new military regime. Between
1967 and 1974, $1.5 billion in economic aid and more than
$94 million in military aid flowed from Washington to
Jakarta. In 1976, another $54 million in aid was granted to
the military. This aid included $3 million in M-16 rifles,
light machine guns, mortars and rocket launchers in 1970;
at least ten naval vessels including minesweepers, tank
The Missing Links," Journal of Contemporary Asia. Vol. 1, no. 2, pp.
50-57.
In assessing the nature and degree of US participation in the 1965
coup, one must of course recognize the existence of powerful interests
within Indonesia who were as concerned as was the US government with a
possible socialist revolution. Whether these interests could have prevailed
on their own is difficult to say, but we can show at least that virtually every
form of encouragement and support short of direct military intervention
was offered during the 1950s and 1960s by various US institutions, including
particularly the CIA. The most extensive discussion of US manipulations
and intrigues in Sukarno-period Indonesia is Peter Dale Scott's essay,
"Exporting Military-Economic Development-America and the Over
throw of Sukarno, 1965-67" in Malcolm Caldwell, ed., Ten Years' Military
Terror in Indonesia. 1975. Spokesman Books, pp. 209-261. (Available in
the US from Tapol-USA, P.O. Box 609, Montclair, N.J. 07042, for
$5.50 including postage). Scott identified, among other interventions: 1)
establishment of foundations and companies in Indonesia that could chan
nel CIA funds within the country, 2) large subsidies to anticommunist
political parties with these CIA funds during the 1950s, 3) high-level
discussions in which Council on Foreign Relations members, RAND
advisors, and CIA personnel identified the sections of the Indonesian
military most likely to offer opposition to a Communist "take-over," 4)
establishment of ties with such military personnel and political figures and
aid to help them organize a base at the Bandung Indonesia Army Com
mand School (SESKOAD) from whose graduates much of the coup and
postcoup governmental apparatus was derived, and 5) the dispatching of
US officials and agents closely associated with counterinsurgency and/or
right wing coups in other countries in 1966, e.g. Bernardo Tovar, a veteran
of Edward Landsdale's anti-Huk campaigns in the Philippines; and, in
June of 1965, Marshall Green, a Foreign Service Officer in Seoul from
1959 to 1961 with experience in the replacement ofSyngman Rhee. It may
never be possible to prove whether or not a specific decision within the
CIA or another agency was made to attempt an overthrow of the Indone
sian government on a specific date, but the extensive chain of connections
above indicates at least that elaborate plans for such a decision were made
and that once Suharto had seized power in Jakarta, a well-prepared
US-sponsored grouping was able to carry out with confidence and training
the plans outlined in Council on Foreign Relations, CIA, and RAND
Corporation papers.
landing ships, and destroyer escorts in 1970-74; from six to
fourteen F-51 Mustang fighters, ten C-47 transport aircraft,
sixteen T-33 trainers, ten Sikorsky S-55 helicopters, and
sixteen OV-10 Bronco counterinsurgency aircraft, all in
1972-73; and in 1971 training for at least ninety-four naval
officers in use of tank landing ships.26
Finally, following the collapse of the Lon Nol regime
in Cambodia in April of 1975, President Ford shifted an
undisclosed amount from the $425 million emergency fund
initially planned for Cambodia, over to use in Indonesia.
These funds could be deployed without Congressional ap
proval under existing laws.
US Military Supplies Were Essential in the Invasion and
Occupation of East Timor, 1975-1981
US military aid was not limited to a general build-up of
Indonesian military strength, however. Both the specific
weapons and the timing of deliveries were consistent with
Indonesia's particular military problems in driving the East
Timorese resistance forces out of the mountains in 1977
and 1978 and bringing much of the population into the
so-called "resettlement centers."
A partial list of military equipment, admitted to have been
used in East Timor by the US State Department, includes:
av- 10 counterinsurgency aircraft
V-150 armored cars
Bell UH- 1helicopters
26. The military equipment data was derived from US government docu
ments and published in Siegel, op. cit. The general dollar amounts are
given by Siegel as follows:
POST-COUP U.S. MILITARY AID TO INDONESIA
($ THOUSANDS)
Commercial
Fiscal Sales Sales Sales Excess
Year Grants' Orders Credits Deliveries Deliveries
2
1966 116
1967 2508 1 23
1968 4594 24 2730 98
1969 4908 760 201
1970 5405 233 1333
1971 16164 18 412 2347
1972 16982 51 1925
1973 18666 148 68 8380
1974 14010 148 3500 859 5541
1975 15850 48514 5000 1221
1976
4
19400 23100
I. Does not include ship loans and other miscellaneous programs.
2. Original acquisition cost.
3. Less than $500.
4. Proposed.
Source: "Foreign Military Sales and Military Assistance Facts," November, 1975,
Defense Security Assistance Agency.
Additional information on US military supplies to Indonesia, along with
revealing comments about the intent, appears in Michael Klare, "In
donesia and the Nixon Doctrine," in Ten Years' Military Terror in In
donesia. op. cit .. pp. 265-274.
48
Bell S-61 helicopters
C -130 transport aircraft
patrol craft
various infantry weapons such as M- 16 rifles, machine guns,
mortars, recoilless rifles, ammunition, and extt;nsive com
munications and support equipment. 27
I can think of no way to summarize better the signifi
cance of this equipment than to quote from a US military
expert, US Admiral Gene La Rocque (Ret.), a former
commander of a nuclear-armed navy fleet:
The Rockwell OV- /Os were particularly important to the
Indonesians. They are slow-moving planes specifically de
signed for counter-insurgency missions against an enemy
lacking in anti-aircraft capability. They were used widely in
Vietnam to carry out search and destroy and scorched earth
missions. They can carry a remarkably heavy load of ordn
ance (3600 pounds) including bombs, rockets, napalm, and
machine guns (7.62 mm. M-60Cs) , as well as infra-red
detectors. They are equipped with grenade launchers also. It
has been described as one ofthe deadliest and most versatile
light strike and counter-insurgency aircraft in the world.
The v- 150 armored cars are ill-suitedfor use against regular
military forces, but are very effective in counter-insurgency
situations where the enemy has only small arms. They are
fully amphibious, hold a crew ofup to 12 combat troops, and
can be equipped with machine guns, 81 mm. mortars, 20
mm. cannons, and smoke and tear gas launchers.
The Bell UH- I helicopter also saw a lot ofuse in Vietnam. It
is heavily armed with 40 mm. grenade launchers and/or
M-134 7.62 mm. "Miniguns."
The Beechcraft T-34 armed trainer aircraft can carry 1800
pounds of ordnance and have recently been adapted for the
COIN (counter-insurgency) role. 28
Other US-supplied equipment includes the A4-Sky
hawk II fighter aircraft, armed trainer aircraft, four ex-US
Navy destroyer escorts, and assorted police gear.
29
Altogeth
er, in money terms, more than $250 million in military
assistance has been granted to Indonesia since the war
against East Timor began. 30
According to The New York Times, at least four of the
ten major support ships used during the 7 December, 1975,
27. Human Rights in East Timor and the Question of the Use ofus Equipment
by the Indonesian Armed Forces. Hearing Before the Sub-Committees on
International Organizations and on Asian and Pacific Affairs of the Com
mittee on International Relations. House of Representatives, March 23,
1977, pp. 60 and 62. Washington, D.C. US Government Printing Office.
Document No. 88-077.
28. Admiral Gene R. La Rocque, US Navy (Ret.). Additional Statement
for the Record, Hearing Before the House Appropriations Subcommittee
on Foreign Relations, 10 June, 1980, p. 13. The statement was not printed
by the Subcommittee but is available at the Center for Defense Informa
tion, 122 Maryland Ave., NW, Washington, D.C. 20002
29. ibid, p. 12
30. U.S. Department of Defense, Foreign Military Sales and Military As
sistance Facts. Washington, December 1979. La Rocque comments: The
total includes $159.6 million in foreign military sales, $52.4 million in
grants, $31. 8 million in commercial sales, and $9.5 million for the Interna
tional Military Education and Training Program. Cited in La Rocque, op.
cit., note 9.
landing at Dili, were US-supplied.
31
Overall, US State
Department Legal Advisor George H. Aldrich estimated
that the Indonesians "were armed roughly 90% with our
equipment. "32
Of particular interest is the timing of the specific mili
tary aid. For the year 1975, just preceding the invasion, the
US pledged 450% more military assistance to Indonesia
than in 1974. Among the items included during this period
were sixteen OV-I0s, forty five V-ISO armored cars, and
three C-130s, all of which were destined for use in East
Timor. Also delivered in time for use in East Timor:
$92,000 worth of rifles, $104,000 worth of small arms spare
parts, and some communications spare parts. 33
Despite these massive infusions of US equipment,
however, the several thousands of Indonesian troops were
unable to accomplish more than to hold the small urban
and coastal areas of East Timor throughout 1976 and most
of 1977. The Maubere people chose to go into the moun
tainous interior where they joined with Fretilin and the
resistance movement, either as fighters or as political ac
tivists, growing food, teaching reading, practicing medi
cine, or performing other tasks familiar to all who have
studied peoples' war. It must be assumed that US military
personnel were aware of this successful resistance, for, in
1977 and 1978, Indonesia was supplied with special addi
tional equipment particularly useful in helping the Suharto
regime to carry out against the people and their resources
two of the most brutal and massive destruction campaigns
in recent history.
In 1976, a stalemate of the war had developed. Fretilin
held the countryside and the mountainous interior while
the heavily equipped Indonesian forces maintained control
over the coastal regions where naval bombardment and
armor could be deployed.
In September of 1976, however, the first three OV-I0s
arrived, followed by three more in November, three in
February 1977, two in March and two more shortly there
after.34 In addition, a Bell UH-l (250A) helicopter and
31. The New York Times, 8 December, 1975.
32. Human Rights in East Timor. Hearings Before the Subcommittee on
International Organizations of the Committee on International Relations,
House of Representatives. Document No. 94-077. Washington, D.C.
U.S. Government Printing Office. Most of the time previous to this
admission, State Department spokespersons had been coy, as in the
following exchange from the March 23, 1977, Hearings (op. cit.), p. 12.
Mr. Fraser: Did the intervention at that time involve the use ofparatroops
with respect to DiU? [i.e. 7 December, 1975 invasion, RFJ
Mr. Oakley: Yes, sir, so far as we know. We think there was some use of
paratroops and some U,S"origin aircraft were used as part of that
action.
Mr. Fraser: Is it true that some American Hercules airplanes were used to
transport the paratroops so far as we know?
Mr. Oakley: Yes.
Mr. Fraser: The aircraft was Hercules'
Mr. Oakley: C /30.
Mr. Fraser: Were those paratroops equipped with U.S. arms?
Mr. Oakley: Yes, sir. We said in the previous hearings. Mr. Wolff s subcom
mittee, there were U.S. -origin arms used by some ofthe units which went
into East Timor.
33. Summarized from various reports in La Rocque, op. cit .. p. 14.
34. Hearings, 23 March, 1977, p. 63, as part of an official State Depart
ment reply to questions by Congressperson Donald M. Fraser.
49
several armored cars were delivered in 1977.
35
The effects
of these aircraft, along with increased naval bombardment
have been eloquently described by Father Leoneto de
Rego, who recounted the beginnings of the famine that was
to result from the aerial destruction of crops and the forcing
of constant movement upon the people so that they could
not properly concentrate their productive forces on the
land.
Honorable Jurors of the Tribunal:
As brutal as these attacks of 1977 were, they were
surpassed by the attacks of 1978. And even as these more
recent attacks were more brutal, they were even more de
pendent on aid from the United States.
By the end of 1977, Indonesian military units were
running short of military supplies. 36 It was at this time that
Vice-President Mondale of the US visited Indonesia and
promised to sell sixteen A-4 Skyhawk II counterinsurgency
planes. In place of $25 million in sales of military equip
ment that had been planned, the US boosted the total to
$110 million while overall assistance rose from $30 million
in 1977 to $131 million in 1978,31
The effects of this aid on the people of East Timor
were disastrous. With the A-4 Skyhawks, 15,000 new M-16
rifles, sixteen Bell helicopters, and over $5 million in am
munition,38 the Jakarta military regime was able to conduct
a massive "search and destroy campaign of firebombing
and helicopter-borne attacks. "39 These attacks killed un
told thousands of East Timorese people and so devastated
the land and resources that, despite their intense commit
ment to self-determination and independence, more than
200,000 East Timorese were finally driven out of the moun
tains by early 1979, where they were to become the sub jects
of yet another US-sponsored campaign to which I shall
return in the last part of my presentation.
Military assistance, however, was not the sole means
by which the US Government directly aided the Indonesian
regime in its campaign of murder and destruction in East
Timor. As if to highlight its own complicity, the US Gov
ernment gave almost complete diplomatic backing to In
donesian intrigues and subterfuges, both before and during
the major invasions.
US Diplomatic Resources Were Put Consistently at the
Disposal of the Indonesian Regime Before and During
the Invasion and Occupation of East Timor
In 1975, as an Indonesian invasion approached, Indo
nesian-US friendship seemed to increase accordingly. In
35. From the State Department Fiscal Year 1977Report to Congress, cited by
La Rocque, op. cit .. p. 16.
36. Los Angeles Times. 24 November, 1977.
37. La Rocque, op. cit .. p. 16.
38. La Rocque, op. cit .. p. 17. The source given in this instance is not
directly from the U.S. Government, but based on an analysis by Delia
Miller of the Institute for Policy Studies: "Memorandum on U.S. Military
Assistance to Indonesia," December 1979, p. 4.
39. The New York Times. 19 April, 1978. Much of the material from
Admiral La Rocque's testimony and Additional Statement has appeared
in published summary in Scott Sidell, "The United States and Genocide in
East Timor." Journal oJContemporary Asia. vol. 11, no. 1, pp. 44-61.
East Timor. December. 1979. After two years o/massive aerial bombardment.
the independenceJorces were driven in large numbers from the mountains. In
1983. new reports oj guerrilla actions are reaching Portugal. (Richard W.
Franke)
so
July of 1975, for example, President Suharto made a five
hour stopover in Washington where he received assurances
from President Ford that the US was firm in its commit
ment to grant military aid to Indonesia. It was after this visit
that 5uharto made his first public statement opposing indepen
dence for East Timor. 40 The trip seems to have been merely a
prelude for bigger things to come, however. In August a
group of US Congresspeople visited Indonesia on a trip
that was not apparently reported in the US press. A BBC
report from Jakarta on 8 August, 1975, made the following
points:
The Indonesian Government realizes that if it wants more
arms from America, it will have to convince Congress as well
as the President and Congress is not all that infavor ofmore
military aid these days . Indonesia does want more arms . ...
Also it wants new patrolboats and aircraft in particular, and
this will be expensive. 50 it has asked Congress for more
military aid. Later this year for example, there will be a
prestigious seminar in Washington, where leading Govern
ment figures will put their case to influential Americans.
The "prestigious seminar" in Washington did indeed
occur. Several high-ranking Indonesian government and
military officials toured the US, starting in Los Angeles on
October 14 and ending up in New York City on October 23.
In between they visited San Francisco, Minneapolis, and
Washington, D.C. Though liJtle US press coverage was
given to this tour, it was almost certainly of great signifi
cance in view of Indonesia's desire to get increased US
military aid.
On the tour, the Indonesian delegation visited the
offices of the Council on Foreign Relations in many cities,
met with Congressional representatives, Asia scholars, and
the "Center for Strategic and International Studies" at
Georgetown University. The head of the Indonesian dele
gation was Major General Ali Murtopo, honorary Chair
man of the "Center for Strategic and International Stud
ies" in Jakarta, Indonesia. Major General Ali Murtopo,
chief intelligence aid to President Suharto, was also the
military "project officer" in charge of the invasion of East
Timor.
By October of 1975 it must have been clear to those in
command of the information services of the US Govern
ment that an Indonesian invasion of East Timor was a
distinct possibility. After all, Indonesian troops were al
ready at that time fighting along the border area inside East
Timorese territory.
Then, on 6 December, 1975, President Ford recipro
cated the earlier visits of high-ranking Indonesians by
spending several hours in Jakarta. Three major events
occurred during and after that visit. First of all, there was a
lot of fancy dining. According to The New York Times,
President Suharto "went all out for the Ford family," offer
ing galantine of duckling and toumedos of beef with im
ported French wines and champagnes-all of this served in
crystal goblets and on gold plates, while an orchestra
serenaded.
To further enliven the evening, the Fords and the
40. Arnold Kohen. "Invitation to a Massacre in East Timor." The Nation,
vol. 232, no. 5, 7 February, 1981, p. 138.
51
Suhartos exchanged gifts, with the US leader receiving a
fifteen-inch gold and ivory kris (dagger) and Mrs. Ford
receiving a gold-filigree handbag the size of a canteloupe.
The Fords gave General Suharto a porcelain sculpture of
two eagles, and a similar piece went to Mrs. Suharto.41
In addition to the dining, there was a second feature of
the visit. Reassurances were given to Indonesia's leaders
that, as Ford put it, "No area of the world is more im
portant to us than Asia," and that, "We remain firmly
committed to peace and security in Southeast Asia. "42
Finally, just twelve hours after the toasts and the gifts
and the fine words of reassurance and pledges to peace, just
twelve hours after Ford left Jakarta-6,OOO Indonesian
troops, backed by helicopters, tanks, naval artillery and air
bombardment, began their first massive assault on East
Timor. It seems likely that even while the President was
dining in Jakarta, the troop movements must have begun.
When Ford landed in Hawaii, reporters asked him for
comment on the invasion. He smiled and said: "We'll talk
about that later." An Associated Press account for 7 De
cember continues:
... Nesson [Press Secretary] said the President discussed
the Timor issue only in very "general terms" with Indone
sian President Suharto after Suharto raised the matter. He
said Suharto did not inform Ford ofany action he intended to
take. When a reporter said he understood US officials had
asked Suharto to hold off until the President's party left,
Nesson said he never heard ofsuch a thing.
Later on officials also denied that Henry Kissinger had
given assurances to Indonesian leaders that the United
States "understands Indonesia's position regarding East
Timor."
In a sense, this latter denial was true. In a report
carried by The Los Angeles Times, 7 December, 1975, Kis
singer was quoted as having "told newsmen [emphasis add
ed] in Jakarta that the United States would not recognize
the Fretilin-declared republic and 'the United States Un
derstands Indonesia's position on the question."'43 Thus,
perhaps nothing was said directly to Indonesian leaders,
but by making such a statement to the press in Jakarta,
Kissinger was making an even wider audience-the entire
international diplomatic community in Jakarta-aware of
the US support for the massive invasion that was about to
commence.
Just how important this diplomatic support was for the
Indonesian regime has been confirmed through the release
of secret Australian embassy cables that make clear how
deeply involved were US officials in the 7 December inva
sion. A cable, described as having "overriding sensitivity,"
included the following report by the Australian ambas
sador in Jakarta:
The United States might have some influence on Indonesia at
41. The New York Times, 7 December, 1975.
42. Washington Post, 6 December, 1975.
43. A detailed discussion of these events is given in Noam Chomsky and
Edward S. Herman, The Washington Connection and Third World Fascism.
Boston. South End Press, 1979, esp. p. 156. The discussion of East Timor,
the US government and the US media on pp. 129-204 is one of the most
detailed and completely docwnented accounts available.
..
, .-..
'J
)' , .
.. .,
.. .. \.. -
...
(Richard W. Franke)
present as Indonesia really wants and needs United States
assistance in its military re-equipment program. But Ambas
sador David Newsom told me last night that he is under
instructions from Kissinger personally not to involve himself
in discussions on Timor with the Indonesians on the grounds
that the United States is involved in enough problems of
greater importance overseas at present. The State Depart
ment has, we understand, instructed the embassy to cut down
its reporting on Timor.
I will be seeing Newsom on Monday, but his present attitude
is that the United States should keep out of the Portuguese
Timor situation and allow events to take their course. His
somewhat cynical comment to me was that ifIndonesia were
to intervene the United States would hope they would do so
"effectively, quickly and not use our equipment. "44
Finally, despite the denials of President Ford's press
secretary, former BBC and Washington Post correspondent
Hamish MacDonald, claims that:
an attack on Dili was to have been made on 5 December, the
day U.S. President Gerald Ford and his Secretary ofState,
Henry Kissinger, were due to arrive in lakartafrom China.
American intelligence learnt of this highly compromising
timetable, and sucessfully demanded that the operation be
postponed until after Ford left on 6 December.
MacDonald also writes that Suharto was so in need of US
aid in 1975 that he could have been prevailed upon by the
US Government to stop the invasion.
4s
44. Quoted in Kohen, op. cil., from Documents on Auslralian Defence and
Foreign Po/icy, 1968-1975, pp. 199-200 published by Angus and Robert
son, Ltd., 1981. See also Chomsky and Herman, op. cil .. pp. 156-157.
45. Kohen, ibid., quoting from Hamish MacDonald, Suhano' ,I Indonesia.
Victoria, Australia. Fontana, 1980, p. 211.
52
Despite all the complicated double-talk about having
"enough problems" and not wanting to get involved in East
Timor, the US position, both diplomatically and militarily,
was summed up by an anonymous State Department
spokesperson who said:
The United States wants to keep its relationship with In
donesia close andfriendly. We regard Indonesia as afriend
ly, nonaligned nation-a nation we do a lot ofbusiness with.
... In terms of the bilateral relations between the US and
Indonesia, we are more or less condoning the incursion into
East Timor.46
With the full-scale invasion of7 December, 1975, dip
lomatic activity shifted from US, Portuguese, Australian,
and Indonesian embassies to the United Nations. Here,
once again, the US followed a consistently pro-Indonesian
policy.
US Support for Indonesia at the United Nations
Honorable Jurors of the Tribunal:
In addition to US diplomatic support and encourage
ment directly to the Indonesian regime, the US gave con
siderable support at the United Nations to what it has
admitted is an illegal occupation. The history of US ma
neuvers with regard to the East Timor question has been
thoroughly recounted to 1978 by Professors Noam Chom
46. Ross Waby, The Australian, 22 January, 1976. Emphasis added.
As with the role of the US in the coup of 1965 (see note 25 above), it is
not possible to show a specific US decision to have Indonesia invade East
Timor. Rather, it appears U.S. officials were simply willing to go along
with whatever the Jakarta general considered in their own interests, the
assumption being that US interests (as defined by these high-level offi
cials) would be served also in this way. In addition to the evidence in the
text of this presentation to the Permanent People's Tribunal, new data has
corne to light. Dale Van Atta, a researcher with Jack Anderson's office in
Washington, and Brian Toohey, made available in May of 1982 extensive
quotations from the National Intelligence Daily, a news sheet prepared each
day for the US President's desk and for a small, "cleared" audience among
the National Security Agency, State Department, etc. The almost day-by
day account runs from August 11, 1975, to February 13,1976, and reveals
that US intelligence knew weeks in advance of the Indonesian invasion
t
plans. Of particular interest is the briefing, apparently on President Ford's
I
I
desk, August 20, 1975, which reads in part:
President Soeharto evidently is still delaying on a decision to authorize
I
military action. Apparently, a major consideration on his part is that an
invasion of Timor, if it comes, must be justified as an act of defense of
I
Indonesian security. He is acutely aware that conditions of us military
assistance to Indonesia specifically limit the use ofthis equipment to defense
purposes. (Quoted in National Times ofAustralia, 30 May, 1982, p. 18)
f
Just two days earlier, Ford had received a similar assessment:
Soeharto continues to worry about an adverse reaction from the US, par
ticularly since a move against Timor at this time would come only a few
weeks after his visit to Washington. (Ibid.)
The documents released by Van Atta and Toohey indicate substantial
Portuguese and Australian connivance in facilitating an eventual Indone
sian decision to invade, but for purposes of this essay, it seems most
significant to note that the President of the United States had on his desk
intelligence evaluations indicating that the US could playa possible role in
avoiding bloodshed and war in East Timor. The other evidence in this
paper indicates that, as far as we can tell at this writing, the only step Ford
and Kissinger took was to attempt to reduce their own embarrassment by
having the dates of the invasion shifted. (A photocopy of the entire
published part of the document may be requested for a small fee from
Tapol-UK, 8a Treport St., London SW18 2BP, England.)
53
sky and Edward Herman in their study The Washington
Connection and Third World Fascism. On 22 December,
1975, the US had joined in the unanimous approval of
Security Council Resolution 384, which "calls upon the
Government of Indonesia to withdraw without delay all its
forces from the Territory."47 On 22 April, 1976, while
heavy fighting continued in East Timor, the Security Coun
cil passed Resolution 389, repeating the earlier demand.
This time, however, the US and Japan abstained. On 1
December, 197c, the US voted against the General Assem
bly resolution which was passed 68 votes to 20 with 49
abstentions. One year later, the General Assembly passed
a resolution calling on the UN Special Committee on De
colonization to send a mission to the territory (67 yes, 27
no, 46 abstentions), but, despite Indonesia's flagrant an
nouncement that it would bar the UN representative re
gardless of the outcome of the vote, the US voted against
the resolution, and thus with the public arrogance of In
donesia vis avis the United Nations. Again, on 21 Novem
ber, 1979, the US joined thirty other nations in voting "no"
on a strong resolution (34/40) declaring that "the people of
East Timor must be enabled freely to determine their own
future under the auspices of the United Nations." Sixty
two nations voted for that resolution with forty-five ab
stentions.
48
Most recently, on 11 November, 1980, the US
joined thirty-four other nations in voting against Resolu
tion 35/598, which reaffirmed "the inalienable right of the
people of East Timor to self-determination and indepen
dence, in accordance with the Declaration on the granting
of Independence to Colonial Countries and peoples, con
tained in General Assembly resolution 1514 (XV)." The
US thus, after 1975, moved rapidly towards an official
public position in the international political arena which
put it squarely at odds with several of the most basic princi
ples and specific resolutions of the United Nations regard
ing the rights of colonial peoples to determination and
independence.
US involvement in opposing the rights of the East
Timorese did not stop with mere votes, however. Although
the exact details are not yet available, there is considerable
evidence to suggest that the US engaged in diplomatic
maneuvers to weaken the UN support for East Timor
whenever possible. Indeed, the available evidence suggests
that the US actually viewed the East Timor issue as one on
which they might launch a probing action to try to break up
the general solidarity of Third World nations that has
threatened the Western capitalist countries with some
moderate international economic reforms, labelled "The
New Economic Order."
In a cablegram of 23 January, 1976, for example,
then-US Ambassador to the UN Daniel P. Moynihan in
formed then-Secretary of State Henry Kissinger and all US
Embassies of the "considerable progress" toward a basic
foreign policy goal, that of breaking up the blocs of nations,
mostly new nations, "which for so long have been arrayed
against us in international forums and in diplomatic en
47. Chomsky and Herman, op. cit., p. 158.
48. The UN vote was reproduced in the Hearings, 10 June, 1980, op. cit.,
p.158.
l
counters generally. "49 In his published memoirs, Moyni
han was even more specific about his work in relation to
East Timor:
... the United States wished things to turn out as they did,
and worked to bring this about. The Department of State
desired that the United Nations prove utterly ineffective
in whatever measures it undertook. This task was given to
me, and I carried it forward with no inconsiderable suc
cess. 50 (Emphasis added.)
Honorable Jurors of the Tribunal:
Coming as it does, from the most direct and responsible
participant in the US UN Mission, can this statement leave
any doubt about the responsibility of the US Government in
undermining-to the extent of its considerable power in the
world-the main international organization charged with
bringing about a just decolonization and peaceful exercise of
the right of self-determination to the people of East Timor?
V. US Attempts to Deceive and
Manipulate Public Opinion
As most scholars, journalists, lawyers, and jurists are
undoubtedly aware, every campaign to deny people their
rights is accompanied by attempts to deceive, misinform,
confuse, and manipulate public opinion. Ironically, per
haps, this seems especially important in countries such as
the US where formally there are broad freedoms of infor
mation, discussion, and publication. As Professors Chom
sky and Herman have shown, however, the major press
and electronic media in the US have generally shown them
selves only too willing to become accomplices of govern
ment deception. In this presentation, I do not believe it is
necessary to document the role of the. press and media
generally with regard to East Timor: this has already been
done with thorough detail and documentation by Profes
sors Chomsky and Herman. I believe, however, that it is
important to summarize a few of the many statements by
US government spokespeople in order to indicate the ex
tent to which the US Government has been willing to
misrepresent even the simplest and most verifiable facts
about the Indonesian invasion and occupation of East
Timor.
The various statements by President Ford and Secre
tary of State Kissinger have been noted above. Our knowl
edge of most of the other misrepresentations comes pri
marily from a set of several official US Government hear
ings that have been held over the past six years regarding
the use of US military equipment in East Timor, political
and economic conditions in the territory, and, most re
cently, food and medical relief operations.
49. Chomsky and Herman, op. cit., p. 158.
50. Daniel P. Moynihan, A Dangerous Place. Boston, Little Brown and
Company, 1978, p. 247, cited by Noam Chomsky, "Statement Delivered
to the Fourth Committee of the United Nations General Assembly,"
October 1979, p. 3. Chomsky's 1978 and 1979 UN testimony are available
in published form in Torben Retboll, ed., East Tinwr, Indonesia and the
Western Democracies: A Collection of Documents. International Work
Group for Indigenous Affairs. Document 40. Copenhagen, Denmark,
1980. pp. 1-25 and 109-120.
54
One tactic used by State Department spokespeople is
to assert that the annexation of East Timor is afait accom
pli, thus not worth further debate. As early as March, 1Cf77,
State Department official Robert Oakley stated that "in
our judgment, East Timor is effectively part of Indone
sia."51 In June and July of that same year, George H.
Aldrich stated that "As a political matter, the United
States has recognized the annexation ofEast Timor and the
legality of the exercise of sovereignty there by the Indone
sian Government." He continued that the United States
has taken no stand on the question whether Indonesia has
violated "international standards or norms of conduct or
international principles" in "the seizure and annexation of
East Timor. "52 Note that these statements were made at a
time when Fretilin held most of the countryside and that
there has never been any legal ambiguity concerning the
"international standards or norms of conduct" with regard
to forcible annexation in violation of United Nations reso
lutions, etc.
A second approach taken by government spokesper
sons is to attempt to detract from the Indonesian atrocities
by placing most of the casualties, including civilian casual
ties, during the period of the Fretilin-UDT civil war of
August-September, 1Cf75, or within the period of the first
massive invasion. Thus, Robert Oakley spoke in March of
1977 of "the number of total casualties, civilian, military,
everything else" as "probably under 10,000." He
continued:
But this is a very rough guess because no one has any hard
figures and most ofthis took place over a year ago. Most of
the violence, in which there were major losses of life or
wounded, took place during the period between August 1975
and March 1976.
Under questioning, Oakley was more specific in his
misinformation:
Mr. Goodling: Am I right in understanding there was a
tremendous slaughter prior to Indonesian intervention? Is
that what you are telling me?
Mr. Oakley: Yes.
53
These statements were made, it should be noted, while
independent sources, including the Catholic Church inside
East Timor, were estimating up to 100,000 deaths caused
by the Indonesians and after Red Cross and Australian
church and aid workers had estimated only about 1,500
deaths maximum during the Fretilin-UDT civil war of Au
gust-September, 1975.
54
51. Hearings, 23 March, 1977, op. cit., p. 16.
52. Hearings, June-July, 1977, op. cit., p. 64. The Orwellian quality of
these remarks is brought out in Chomsky and Herman, op. cit., pp.
160-161.
53. Hearings, 23 March, 1977, op. cit., p. 23.
54. A recent reaffirmation if this estimate is bluntly stated by Dunn:
I do not propose to engage in an analysis ofthe various accounts ofthe
total loss ofTimorese lives resultingfrom the war. Thejigure is probably not
less than 100,000 and it might conceivably be twice that number. It is
important to note, however, that only a smallfraction ofthe total casual ties
occurred in the one month long civil war. The international Red Cross and
ACFOA aidteam (which lied) went to all parts ofEast Timor during the two
Another distortion used by US officials is that the
population of East Timor was held hostage by Fretilin
guerillas. As Robert Oakley explained in February of 1978:
We are concerned about the situation in East Timor, and as I
stated we would like to see the situation there solved, as we
would any conflict, by peaceful means. This has not yet
happened. There has been a certain change in the situation,
in that a large number ofpeople have movedfrom areas that
could be described either as no-man's land or under the
control ofFretilin to areas where they could be protected by
the Indonesian Government. 55
And, although from time to time State Department
representatives have pleaded lack of sufficient information
when questioned about Indonesian atrocities, their mem
lries come to life when drawn out by right-wing supporters
)f the slaughter; including even the resort to racist lan
uage by turning East Timorese into "Fretilins":
Mr. Burke: I have one question. There was one group that
moved in and declared themselves the independent rep
resentatives ofthe people. The Fretilins-was that it?
Mr. Oakley: Yes sir.
Mr. Burke: Would you explain something about the Fretilins
and their atrocities and the statement for instance made
by the Indonesian Government which I think was made a
couple ofyears ago concerning the Fretilins-the need
really to step in and stop (ltrocities by the Fretilins?
Mr. Oakley; I tried to point out, Mr. Burke, both during Mr.
Wolff s hearings and in these, there clearly was a lot of
violence going on in the period between the Portuguese
departure and the period when the Indonesians moved
in.
Mr. Burke: What was the portion of the Fretilins that rep
resented the Indonesian people?
Mr. Kenney: I am not sure I understand your question.
Mr. Burke: Percentagewise how many of the Fretilins were
represented and where were they located?
Mr. Kenney: I believe our figures are that at their height they
probably had somewhere around 20,000 to 30,000 peo
ple possibly out of650,OOO. 56
How 20,000 to 30,000 "Fretilins" could make hostages of
200,000 people in the face of massive military force against
these "Fretilins" is not within the scope of State Depart
ment deceptions to explain.
A US Congressional report on East Timor, issued on
the basis of a "Special Study Mission to Asia, January 5-23,
1980," appeared to be more balanced in its approach,
arguing that:
month periodfollowing the civil war and were able to assess its death toll at
between 1500 and 2000. This fact is important in the light of attempts by
Indonesians and apologistsfor Indonesian actions in East Timor, to suggest
that much of the death toll of the past five years occurred during the civil
war.
James Dunn. "Timor: AustIalia's Acquiescence of Indonesian Aggres
sion." Newsletter, International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs. No. 25/26,
March, 1981, p. 75.
55. February 1978 Hearings, op. cit., pp. 39-40 as quoted and analyzed in
Chomsky and Herman, op. cit., p. 163.
56. Hearings, 23 March, 1977, op. cit., p. 25.
S5
There have been reports that most ofthose at the relief sites
were forced out of their mountain homes and fields by In
donesian authorities in order to secure better control ofthe
population. On the other hand there are also reports that the
insurgent Fretilinforces had coerced the population in areas
they control, and that in Dili there are some surrendered
Fretilin leaders who have been released by the Indonesians
but who stay indoors forfear ofbeing killed by irate Timorese
who hold them responsible for Fretilin atrocities. 57
Such reporting, mixing verifiable statements from a
wide range of sources including refugee reports, smug
gled letters, East Timorese Catholic Church sources,
etc., which support the first view above, with the prop
aganda statements of the Indonesian authorities, revealed
in the latter and lengthier comment in the report, serve to
promote confusion and inability by the average citizen to
comprehend the issues. This renders fruitless any attempt
to make an independent judgment by the ordinary citizen
and thus represents an assault on the democratic process
within the USA itself.
Honorable Jurors of the Tribunal:
The preceding examples are but a small sampling of
the bending and breaking of truth and the dishonest and
inaccurate reporting of events that of necessity accompany
the attempt to suppress the real will of any people. They
stand, in the case of East Timor, as testimony to the deep
and thoroughgoing responsibility of the US in the viola
tions that have taken place in the land of the Maubere
people.
VI. The US Government Has Attempted to
Manipulate and Control Humanitarian Aid to East
Timor in Ways That Directly Support the Continued
Indonesian Occupation
Honorable Jurors oftbe Tribunal:
As succinctly stated by Professor Noam Chomsky in
his 1979 testimony to the Decolonization Committee of the
United Nations, the military campaigns of 1977 and 1978
,
were especially destructive in East Timor:
I
... an Indonesian official privately admitted that more than
100,000 people had died in the terr.itory because ofthe war,
adding that hundreds ofvillages had been' 'wiped offthe face
I
ofthe earth" in the bombing.
s8
As villages were being wiped off the face of the earth, crops
were being destroyed, and eventually more than 200,000
people were forced down from the mountain regions, many
!
of them starving, near death, or in advanced states of
malnutrition. As you are probably aware, numerous stud
l
ies have shown that malnutrition is especially harmful to
children, who are the first to die, and even those who may
f
!
57. Asian Security Environment: 1980. Report submitted by a Special Study
Mission to Asia, January 5-23, 1980, under the Auspices of the Subcom
mittee on Asian and Pacific Affairs of the Committee on Foreign Affairs,
US House of Representatives. Washington, D.C., US Government Print
ing Office. Document No. 67-7270, p. 30.
58. Chomsky, 1979, op. cit., p. 1.
be saved will often suffer physical and mental damage for
the rest of their lives. The crimes of the US-backed Indone
sian invasion could thus continue for an entire generation
of East Timorese even after the eventual withdrawal of the
occupying forces. It is instructive to look at how the US
Government has dealt with the immediate after-effects of
the bombardments of 1977 and 1978.
US Ambassador to Indonesia Edward Masters visited
occupied East Timor in September of 1978. According to a
US press account:
Foreign ambassadors, including U.S. Ambassador Edward
E. Masters, came away so shocked by the condition of the
refugees [the people forced down from the mountains, RFJ
that they immediately contacted the Governor ofEast Timor
to explore the possibilities for providing humanitarian
assistance. 59
The photographs that were to appear in the Western
press in late 1979 along with descriptions by seasoned relief
workers such as Frank Carlin of Catholic Relief Services,
that "I have been doing this sort of work for 14 years, but
East Timor is the worst I have ever seen," speak for
themselves. 60
Despite his 1978 visit to East Timor, however, the US
Ambassador later testified to a US Congressional Commit
tee that "the ambassadors at the time did not know how
bad it was-the others felt the same as I did, that the
situation was not that serious. "61
Indonesia scholar and professor Benedict Anderson
has unveiled the explanation for this apparently contradic
tory set of reports.
I think the answer is made perfectly clear by an internal State
Department document of last October 1979 which says that
"It was not until spring of 1979 that the Government of
Indonesia felt East Timor to be secure enough to permit
foreign visitors. "62
And, indeed, US "humanitarian" assistance was for
mally requested by the US Ambassador on 1 June, 1979.
Professor Anderson concludes:
... for 9 long months, from September 1978 to June 1979,
while, to quote Mr. Kamm [New York Times correspon
dent, RFJ, "in ever increasing numbers the starving and the
ailing, wearing rags at best, drifted onto the coastal plains, "
Ambassador Masters deliberately refrained, even within the
walls ofthe State Department, from proposing humanitarian
aid to East Timor. 63
Honorable Jurors of the Tribunal:
After hearing the evidence above, can we possibly
59. San Francisco Chronic/e, 13 September, 1978, as cited by Professor
Benedict Anderson, in Human Rights in Asia: Noncommunist Countries.
Hearings Before the Subcommittees on Asian and Pacific Affairs and on
International Organizations of the Committee on Foreign Affairs, House
of Representatives, February 4,6, and 7, 1980. Washington, D.C. U.S.
Government Printing Office. Document No. 59-993 0, p. 245.
60. The New York Times, 3 October, 1979.
61. Quoted by Anderson in Hearings, 4, 6, and 7, February, 1980, op. cit.,
p.235.
62. Ibid.
63. Ibid.
56
conclude differently than did Professor Anderson when he
told the Congressional Subcommittee that:
Until the generals in Jakarta gave him the green light, Mr.
Masters did nothing to help the East Timorese. 64
Thus, paltry food and medical supplies that have recently
been sent from the US have been sent only in accordance
with the timetable and plans of the occupying forces.
But US responsibility for the current situation does
not end even here. In concluding this brief survey of the
recent famine, I would like to take note of two other
elements in the US role since 1979 when the destitution of
the East Timorese people became a major news story for a
few short weeks.
First, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary,
US Ambassador Masters has maintained that the forced
settlement of East Timorese into guarded camps
... offers a better future than the slash and burn subsistence
agriculture long practiced by these mountain people. This is
important. East Timor has been almost totally deforested by
many years ofshifting agricultural production. Erosion is a
serious problem, and the land can no longer support its
former population. 65
Slash and bum agriculture is perhaps 11,000 years old
in Southeast Asia and at least 2,000 years old in the Eastern
Sunda Islands, ofwhich East Timor is a geological part. Yet
the Ambassador would have us believe that deforestation
became a problem suddenly in 1979, by coincidence just
after the US-supported campaign of destruction. As an
anthropologist who specializes in food production systems
and ecological studies, I would like to note here as well that
the weight of evidence suggests that slash and bum agricul
ture-a system of food production that as recently as 1957
supported one in twelve ofthe earth's people-is regarded
by many -prossibly a majority-of its closest students, as
a system that in general tends to maintain rather than to
destroy natural ecology. It may be the case that the sudden
influx of people into the mountains of East Timor in 1976
put a large burden on the natural ecology of the steep
sloped mountains; but even if this is a partial cause of the
ecological ruin, it occurred only because of the Indonesian
atrocities in the coastal areas which drove even many of
Fretilin's previous opponents into the mountains to take up
arms with the Liberation Forces. Since US equipment was
instrumental in the initial attacks and atrocities of 1975 and
1976, in any just and meaningful system of international
law, it is the US Government which bears the ultimate
responsibility for whatever environmental harm has been
done to the mountain forests of East Timor. Note, how
ever, that this entire line of reasoning excludes the more
likely explanation for the hunger and the environmental
damage-the savage bombing attacks of 1977 and 1978
that have been referred to earlier.
A ~ e c o n d aspect of the current relief effort is also
64. Ibid.
65. Famine Relieffor East Timor. Hearing Before the Subcommmittee on
Asian and Pacific Affairs of the Committee on Foreign Affairs, House of
Representatives, December 4, 1979. Washington, D.C. U.S. Govern
ment Printing Office. Document No. 57-034 0, p. 26.
important in terms of the US role. Beginning in October
1979, the International Red Cross was finally allowed back
into East Timor, after having been forced out by Indone
sian threats just before the 7 December, 1975, invasion.
Even up to the present day, however, only one foreign
doctor and his wife, a nurse, are in the territory. 66 The only
other relief agency allowed into East Timor has been Cath
olic Relief Services, which has received $9.4 million in US
support, as compared with $1.5 million for the ICRC.67
Catholic Relief Services has just one foreign staff person
available part time in East Timor. In addition, CRS has
been criticized by many Catholic priests for its pro-Marcos
activities in the Philippines, its possible CIA connections in
Vietnam during the US occupation, and, in the case of East
Timor, for the fact that:
The only accounting that the CRS is prepared to give for. . .
usforeign assistance in East Timor is to AID and the State
Department.
and,
CRS declined to appear before the most recent [June 1980J
hearing on East Timor. . . . Its internal auditing records are
not available to the scrutiny ofdonors or the press. 68
Honorable Jurors of the Tribunal:
In the last week of March 1981, Indonesian military
forces conducted exercises in the Eastern Sunda Islands.
Included in these exercises was a simulated assault on the
Baucau area of East Timor, a landing and aerial attack on
Los Palos, and an amphibious landing at Laga. The attack
on Los Palos involved the Indonesian 502nd Airborne Bat
talion,69 using Hercules transport aircraft made in the
USA, while Indonesian newspapers, including the armed
forces paper Angkatan Bersenjata, specifically reported the
use of OV-10 Broncos.
70
As Los Palos and Laga are in the
easternmost parts of East Timor, where the resistance con
tinues at its highest level, there is reason to believe reports
received by members of the Australian Council for Over
seas Aid that "some 6,000 of the troops engaged in the
exercises were to stay behind to join the 12,000 troops
already in East Timor and that this force of 18 battalions
was to conduct a 'general clean-up.' "71
If this campaign is even partially successful, it will
drive more of the Maubere people from the mountains;
they will be rounded up and placed in "resettlement cen
ters," where Catholic Relief Services, financed by US "hu
manitarian" aid money, will keep some of them alive to
become subjects of Indonesian overlords. In the USA,
supporters of the East Timorese people are working to
compel the US Government to bring in a wider group of
relief personnel so that at least some of the facts of the
66. Arnold Kohen and Roberta Quance. "The Politics of Starvation."
Inquiry. 18 February, 1980, p. 20.
67. The National Times ofAustralia. 7-13 September, 1980.
68. Ibid.
69. Kompas. 26 March, 1981/ Angkatan Bersenjata. 26 March, 1981. Both
are Jakarta daily papers.
70. Kompas. 28 March, 1981.
71. Australian Council for Overseas Aid. "Urgent Memoranda Re East
Timor." 4 May, 1981. Canberra.
continuing occupation will not remain buried in the confi
dential files of Catholic Relief Services or in the office of the
same US Ambassador who has shown a willingness to await
a green light from the occupying forces before allowing in
aid. Weare especially eager to compel the continued and, if
possible, expanded presence of the International Red
Cross as a starting point for a more humane relief effort and
to put some pressure on the Indonesian forces to reduce the
level of brutality.
As long as the Indonesian troops remain in East
Timor, however, any relief efforts are bound to produce
more violence than aid in the long run. Since the people are
concentrated in camps where they cannot make a living,
their physical recovery from famine, combined with the
atrocities and the unwelcome nature of the Indonesian
occupying forces, will eventually lead many of them back
into the mountains where they will attempt to grow their
crops as they did in the past-and as they were able to do
even under the harsh rule of the Portuguese colonialists.
These crops alone will appear to the Indonesians as a sign
of the rebirth of Fretilin resistance wherever they are spot
ted and will bring on yet another massive military operation
to drive people back into the camps.
Honorable Jurors ofthe Tribunal:
The US-sponsored invasion has led in East Timor to a
US-sponsored cycle of famine to famine relief to renewed
resistance to renewed famine to renewed famine relief and
so on. It is a political and military impasse that can be
broken only in one of three ways:
1. The total annihilation of the Maubere people, which
must be considered a real possiblity given the types of
equipment available to the Indonesian regime and given
the political-economic-military cycle just described;
2. A genuine act of self-determination which would re
quire an Indonesian withdrawal either as part of a nego
tiated settlement worked out internationally, and which
would require the active backing of the US Government;
3. An Indonesian withdrawal brought about by a change of
government in Jakarta, which is a growing possibility
with or without US support.
At this moment, all available evidence indicates that
the US Government has chosen to .continue its support for
whatever measures the current Jakarta military regime
deems necessary to subdue, or annihilate, the Maubere
people of East Timor.
VII. Conclusions
There can be no doubt that whatever crimes and in
justices you may find have been committed against the
people of East Timor have been committed in the first
instance by the forces of the Indonesian military regime of
General Suharto, by his close associates Ali Murtopo and
Benny Murdani, and under the leadership of countless
other high-ranking Indonesian officials who sit at the top of
a system of power, of privilege, of intimidation, and of
control of information that makes possible the acqui
escence of ordinary Indonesians who are the footsoldiers,
pilots, camp guards, etc., and who find themselves, like at
least some of the Nazi defendants in the Nuremburg trials,
57
"only following orders." Here, however, the general paral
lel with those earlier atrocities breaks down.
For, as I believe has been demonstrated by the evi
dence presented in earlier sections of this paper, the In
donesian violations of the rights of the Maubere people of
East Timor are not the sole responsibility of a single gov
ernment or a single movement and political organization,
as was perhaps the case in the Nuremburg judgments.
Jakarta's generals could never have initiated their invasion
plans without positive diplomatic signals from the United
States, and without promises that military aid would be
forthcoming if and when necessary. They could never have
carried out the invasion of 7 December, 1975, without the
assurances of President Ford and Secretary of State Kis
singer, who so graciously visited Jakarta on the very eve of
the invasion. Jakarta's military rulers could never have
sustained their occupation of the coastal areas, and indeed,
might well have been driven out of the territory towards the
end of 1977, or at least been forced to negotiate a with
drawal, had it not been for the timely delivery of key US
equipment such as the OV-lO Broncos and other counter
insurgency equipment which I have listed earlier.
Furthermore, as I believe the evidence shows, US
officials lent themselves to any number of lies and distor
tions to help keep their aid and its effects from being
properly understood by the people of the United States
who, in light of the Vietnam experience, might otherwise
have protested more vigorously yet another act of genocide
in Southeast Asia committed in our name. And finally,
when, in 1978 and 1979, thousands of starving and destitute
survivors of that holocaust of the previous two years in the
mountains of East Timor came straggling into the coastal
regions, Indonesia could never have put a good face on the
situation as the corruption and incapacity of the military-
run bureaucracy is too great to permit even a modestly
successful relief effort. Here again, the US came to the
rescue of its client state and has attempted to keep the
hmanitarian aid program well within the boundaries ac
ceptable to the occupying forces who would like to con
vince world opinion, and perhaps especially opinion in the
nonaligned nations, that Indonesia is somehow still an
anticolonial power. All of this evidence alone would be, in
my view, sufficient to indict the government of the United
States before this Peoples' Tribunal of gross violations of
human rights in East Timor and of violations of several of
the specific provisions of the Universal Declaration of the
Rights of Peoples.
As I have explained earlier, however, I would go even
further, and argue that the very existence of the Suharto
regime and its abuses against its own people, especially the
farmers and farm workers of Java, ethnic minorities such as
the Chinese, people with socialist or anti-imperialist politi
cal views, Moslems, students, trade unionists, women's
emancipationists, etc. - this very regime and its policies
are not simply products of Indonesian society and Indone
sian history. Rather they originate to a great degree from
the activities of the US government in Southeast Asia over
the past thirty-five years; and these activities themselves
derive from the overall strategy of the US Government to
make all of southeast Asia a haven for cheap mineral extrac
tion, and cheap labor to help maintain US business profits.
I apologize to the jurors for the great length of my
presentation. The subject, however, is one on which even
more could be said. And I believe it is the spirit of the
Universal Declaration of the Rights of Peoples that we
should thoroughly expose and analyze the forces of im
perialism and their "vicious methods" for all the world to
see. *
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S8
East Timor and Indonesia
by Torben RetboU *
1. A Secret Report from Timor
"After five years of integration, the people of East
Timor do not yet enjoy the freedom that humanity needs to
feel. " This is one of the conclusions in a secret report which
the Regional People's Representative Assembly of East
Timor sent to the Indonesian president Suharto in the
summer of 1981.
East Timor is a former Portuguese colony which was
invaded by neighboring Indonesia in December 1975 and
which was officially proclaimed as Indonesia's 27th prov
ince the following year. However, since the invasion an
armed resistance has been going on under the leadership of
FRETILIN-the Revolutionary Front for an Independent
East Timor-and Indonesia still does not control the entire
area. In June 1980, FRETILIN even made an attack on
Dill, the capital of East Timor.
It is the Indonesian government itself that has set up
the Regional Assembly, and this means that this criticism
gains more importance and credibility coming as it does
from supporters and not from opponents of the govern
ment in Jakarta. The report which is dated Dili, June 3,
1981, is confidential, but nevertheless it was leaked to the
Australian press. It was reported, for instance, by Robin
Osborne in the Australian (October 9,1981), and the whole
text together with the covering letter has also appeared in
the British 1APOL-Bulletin (no. 47, September, 1981),
published by the British Campaign for the Defence of
Political Prisoners and Human Rights in Indonesia.
The Regional Assembly starts by praising integration,
that is the incorporation of East Timor into Indonesia:
"Throughout the centuries this people will be forever in
debted and grateful for the achievement of integration of
East Timor into the fold of the motherland, the great
Republic of Indonesia." But then they strike a different
tune. Some of the Indonesian soldiers and officials are
alleged to have "introduced behaviour that can only be
described as being the behaviour of conquerors towards a
conquered people." They act "with great brutality" and
they "abuse the powers vested in the positions."
This article has been published previously in the London paper Freedom
on March 20, 1982 and in a slightly different version in the Swedish journal
MalUldsbulietinen, May, 1982.
It is with great sorrow, the report continues, that the
Assembly repeatedly is receiving "verbal as well as written
reports or complaints from the people about torture, mal
treatment, murders and other unimaginable cases." And
then follow a series of examples documenting this claim.
It is not only breaches of the law that are being criti
cized, however. There are also problems in the realm of the
economy: "Although quite a lot of financial assistance for
the purposes of building up the economy has been re
ceived, the people of East Timor have not yet felt any real
benefits. . . ." Indonesian officials are accused of lining
their own pockets, and the result is that "after five years of
integration and ceseless efforts by both the central govern
ment and the regional government, the vast majority of the
people are not yet able to enjoy stable living conditions."
Thus, the report confirms many of the charges which
for several years have been put forward by the foreign
delegation of FRETILIN as well as by independent organi
zations and individual specialists. So far, Indonesia has
totally rejected such charges as evil-minded propaganda.
At the end of 1981, the Indonesian government had
not made any comment on this last report, but this is not to
say that they have not taken any action. In November 1981,
the two signatories of the report-Mr. Leandro Isaac and
Mr. Sousa Soares-were arrested, and the following
month two other members of the Assembly met the same
fate. (Reuter-telegram, Canberra Times December 21,
1981; Michael Richardson, The Age. Melbourne,
December 23, 1981.)
2. A New Indonesian Offensive in Timor
The revelation of the secret report came immediately
after the Australian press had reported that Indonesia was
planning a new offensive against FRETILIN. Large num
bers of Timorese males aged between fifteen and fifty are
said to have been conscripted by the authorities to take part
in an operation to eliminate the resistance once and for all.
The plan is to make a chain of men moving in an extended
line across the whole of the island in order to search the
country for the guerrillas.
This is, in other words, an operation similar to what
59
the white immigrants in the island of Tasmania south of
Australia did in the last century. At that time, the result
was a near total elimination of the native population.
Church organizations in Australia fear that this might
be the beginning of a new period with hunger and starva
tion, because there will not be enough men to work the
fields. In the autumn of 1979, following international pres
sure, Indonesia did-for the first time since 1975-give the
International Red Cross permission to work in East Timor.
At that time already, it was estimated that at least 100,000
out of a population of 650,000 had perished as a result of
war, hunger and disease, and relief workers compared the
situation in Timor with that in Biafra and Kampuchea.
The situation seems to have improved somewhat dur
ing 1980, but in the spring of 1981, the International Red
Cross was asked to leave the country again, and this means
in the first place that there is no foreign control with the aid
given to Timor and, secondly, that the Indonesian authori
ties are once again able to conduct their military operations
without having foreign observers to see what is going on.
(The Australian October 3, 1981; see also TAPOL-Bulletin
no. 48, November 1981.)
The Australian press has reacted strongly to these
reports. Thus, on October 10, 1981, the Australian carried a
harsh and very critical editorial saying, among other things,
that "the Australian government must act quickly on the
latest horrifying news from East Timor. There can be no
excuse for failing to make clear our abhorrence of the
atrocities which the Indonesian government is inflicting on
the Timorese people. "
The editorial went on as follows:
Ever since the Indonesian invasion (in December 1975) we
have ignored the chronicle ofbrutality which has reached us
from Djakarta's reluctant province.' When (five) Australian
journalists were murdered (in October 1975) in circum
stances which the most charitable would have to have found
suspicious, the best we seemed able to manage was a half
apolegetic mumble. It is time Australia stopped playing the
role of Pontius Pilate. It is time we spoke up as loudly on
nearby Indonesian colonialism as we do on the misdeeds of
the distant Soviets and South Africans .
The editorial concluded that Australia should deliver
"a strong protest" to Indonesia and seek an immediate
explanation as to what is going on. "If Australia remains
silent, our credibility as a moral force will be drowned by
our hypocrisy. "
At the end of 1981, the Australian government had not
yet acted, but Parliament had. In November, 1981, the
question of East Timor was referred to the Senate Standing
Committee on Foreign Affairs and Defence for investiga
ton and report. The committee is planning public hearings
for 1982. (Discussion in Hansard, Senate, November 26,
1981, pp. 2688-91; official announcement in Canberra Times
December 21, 1981.)
3. A Television Report in Portugal
In Portugal, the former colonial power, there has also
been renewed debate on Timor. The reason was a televi
sion documentary in the beginning of October 1981 by
journalists Artur Albarran and Barata Feyo who claimed
that the leaders of Portugal's revolution in 1974 and 1975
held secret talks with Indonesia during which they made
concessions to Indonesia's ambition to annex East Timor.
The charges were especially directed against Mario Soares,
leader of the Socialist Party who was then prime minister,
former president Costa Gomez, and Almeida Santos,
former minister for decolonization.
The Socialist Party reacted strongly to these accusa
tions. According to a description of the last of these secret
meetings, held in Hong Kong in June 1975, a Portuguese
delegation told Indonesian officials that it had drafted
Timor's new decolonization statute in such a way that it
would give them a year to try and persuade the population
by peaceful means to accept incorporation into Indonesia.
But if they did not, and Indonesia chose to use force, "the
Portuguese government is not prepared to create problems
and could easily send a ship to Timor to evacuate all
Portuguese. "
4. The U.S., Britain and Australia
Portugal is not, however, the only country that of
ficially supported East Timor's right to self-determination
while secretly showing much understanding for Indonesia's
plans. In November 1980, George Munsler and Richard
Walsh published a book with secret documents from the
Australian Ministry of Foreign Affairs which reveals that
not only Australia but also Britain and the U.S. sympa
thised with Indonesia well before the invasion had taken
place.
In July 1975, for instance, the British Ambassador to
Jakarta wrote that "the people of Portuguese Timor are in
no condition to exercise the right of self-determination."
He continued:
Though it still remains in our interest to steer clear of
becoming involved in future, developments in Lisbon now
seem to argue in favour of greater sympathy towards
Indonesia, should the Indonesian government feel forced to
take strong action by the deteriorating situation in Portu
guese Timor. Certainly, as seen from here, it is in Britain's
interest that Indonesia should absorb the territory as soon
and as unobtrusively as possible. If it comes to the crunch
and there is a row in the UN, we should keep our heads down
and avoid siding against the Indonesians.
Similarly, the Australian ambassador to Jakarta re
ported in August 1975 that he had spoken with his Ameri
can colleague and that "his present attitude is that the U.S.
should. . . allow events to take their course. His somewhat
cynical comment to me was that if the Indonesians were
going to intervene, they [the U.S.] would hope that they
would do so 'effectively, quickly and not use our equip
ment. '" (Dpcuments on Australian Defence and Foreign Pol
icy, Hong Kong 1980, chapter 6.)
Things did not turn out as the American ambassador
had hoped. The invasion was bloody, it is still continuing to
this very day, and is conducted with American equipment.
The Australian government reacted promptly and is
sued an injunction barring distribution ofthe book, arguing
60
that its publication was a threat against national security.
But then it was already too late: the press had got hold of it
and so did the Indonesians who here found their secret
understanding with the Western Powers exposed to the
public. The legal battle ended in December 1980 when the
Australian High Court stated that the law is infringed by
"copying or reproducing a document." But it is not in
fringed by "publishing information or ideas contained in
that document." (New Statesman December 5, 1980).
Today it is probably difficult to get hold of the book
itself, but excerpts are available in the British New
Statesman (November 21, 1980), in TAPOL-Bulletin (no.
43, January 1981), and in the U.S. Nation (February 7,
1981).
5. Indonesia's Position
The government in Jakarta claims that the Indonesian
forces intervened in East Timor in order to establish law
and order and to follow the people's own wishes. It claims
further that at a meeting in the summer of 1976, representa
tives of the Timorese people asked to become part of
Indonesia and that the government in Jakarta granted this
wish and subsequently made East Timor the country's 27th
province. In fact, the Indonesian government claims to be a
principled opponent of invasions. It has, for instance, con
demned the Vietnamese invasion of Kampuchea in 1978
and the Soviet one of Afghanistan in 1979.
In July 1980, Indonesia's Foreign Minister Mochtar
paid an official visit to Czechoslovakia where he held talks
with his colleague Chnoupek. After the visit a joint press
release was issued in which you could read the following:
The two ministers agreed that it was absolutely neces
sary to continue to adhere to the principles of peaceful
solution ofall global as well as regional problems and in this
connection they reaffirmed their determination to observe
fully the principles ofthe UN charter which they considered
to be the basis for the preservation ofpeace throughout the
world.
Thus, on the one hand we have Chnoupek, represent
ing a government that came to power by means of a Soviet
military invasion in 1968, and on the other we have
Mochtar, representing a government that invaded and oc
cupied neighboring East Timor in 1975. In both cases we
are dealing with a violation of the UN charter which is
based on each individual nation's right to self-determina
tion. Nonetheless, we find these ministers solemnly pro
claiming that they are in favour of "peaceful solution" ofall
problems and that they intend to "observe fully the princi
ples of the UN charter. "
In September 1981, the Indonesian government issued
a statement condemning the South African attack on
Angola. The South African invasion of Angola is a crude
violation of international law , it said, and the international
community must take all appropriate measures to stop this
aggression.
All of this may seem paradoxical. But apparently the
hypocrisy of statesmen knows no limits-neither in the
East nor the West.
61
6. The Responsibility of the west
The history of East Timor is thus the story of a country
and a people who have become victims of the great power
game. Even the U.S. acknowledges that the people of East
Timor have not had an opportunity to exercise the right to
self-determination to which they are entitled according to
the UN charter. But the alliance with Indonesia is more
important than some abstract principle and therefore the
U.S. has nevertheless accepted Indonesia's invasion and
occupation.
Since 1975, the UN General Assembly has annually
adopted resolutions condemning the invasion and demand
ing the withdrawal of Indonesian troops; most recently on
November 23, 1982, with 50 in favour, 46 against, and 50
abstentions, a more narrow majority than previously. But
most Western countries simply abstain-such as for in
stance Denmark, and lately also Sweden which voted in
favor in the years 1975-79-or they vote together with
Indonesia against the resolutions-such as for instance the
U.S. does.
The UN Security Council has twice adopted similar
resolutions; on December 22, 1975 and April 22, 1976.
These ~ e , as is well known, binding for member states, but
IndoneSIa has not responded. And most Western countries
continue to supply Indonesia with new weapons so that
they can conduct new offensives against the people of East
Timor.
Similarly, the free press in the Western world has also
generally ignored the question of East Timor, with
Australia as the only noticeable exception. This silence is
important, in the first place because it enables Indonesia to
conduct its aggression in secrecy, and secondly because it
enables the Western states to supply their ally Indonesia
with the military and diplomatic support which is necessary
for this aggression.
The facts are fully available to those who want them.
There is no censorship in the West, but apart from
Australia, the facts are largely ignored by the mass media. *
The responsibility of the Western world for Indon
esia's actions in East Timor is obvious, and by remaining
silent on this issue the press also shares this responsibility.
The free press and honest politicians need not support
governments which allow this to happen. They can-and
should-demand that representatives of the International
Red Cross, of the UN and independent journalists gain
access to all parts of East Timor, and that the flow of arms
to Indonesia be halted, so that the invading forces will have
to stop their attack, and so that the people of East Timor
may finally be allowed to determine their own destiny. *
For reliable information see the following: Noam Chomsky and
Edward Herman, The Political Economy ofHuman Rights, vol. 1, South End
Press: Boston, 1979; Jill Jolliffe, East Timor: Nationalism and Colonialism
Queensland Univ. Press: St. Lucia, 1978; Arnold Kohen and John Taylor:
An Act of Genocide: Indonesia's Invasion of East Timor, Tapol: London,
1979; Torben Retboll, ed., East Timor, Indonesia and the Western Demo
cracies, IWGIA: Copenhagen, 1980. Periodicals dealing with East Timor
are: TAPOL-Bulietin, 8 a Treport Street, London SW18 2B), England;
Timor Newlsetter, Rua Damasceno Monteiro 14 ARC, 1100 Lisbon,
Portugal; and East Timor Updote, Box 363, Clinton Station, Syracuse, New I
York 13201, USA.
l
Indonesia: A Short Review
by Richard W. Franke
"Seven workers from Hotel Bali Hyatt were brought
to trial, accused of having organised a strike. . .. Eighty
workers from Hotel La Taverna Bali were arbitrarily dis
missed. . . . One hundred and fifty workers from PT Putra
Sijati spinning mill went to the House of People's Rep
resentatives (Indonesian National Parliament) after eight
of their fellow workers had been arbitrarily dismissed. . ..
65% of the employees at the American Club in Jakarta
struck to protest the dismissal of a worker trying to or
ganize a union there. . . ." These are among the incidents
from the 62 case studies of worker organizing and harrass
ment in 1979 and 1980 alone that are presented in this
informative collection of documents and analysis.
Indonesian Workers provides materials from the
Indonesian press as well as documents smuggled out of the
country to indicate that, despite a well organized govern
ment effort to stop them and a bad general bargaining
position for labor, workers have organized to protest and in
some cases have been able to improve on the appalling
conditions of life in the country's small but important in
dustrial sector.
Along with the 62 brief case histories gleaned from the
press, one case, PT Textra spinning and weaving mill in
East Jakarta, is presented in detail, showing the high level
of cooperation between the government security ap
paratus, the employer and the pliant trade union leadership
allowed under the Suharto regime.
Indonesian factory workers struggle under difficult
conditions both economic and political. Since 1967, the
special investment incentives for both foreign and national
capital have produced fewer than two million jobs, or fewer
jobs in a twelve year period than the growth of the work
force-now totalling fifty-nine million-every two years.
This slow rate of investment and industrial employment
dovetails with the massive outflow of people displaced from
the countryside by the highly unequal landholding system
and the spread of some modem technology as a result ofthe
green revolution. Workers thus face a market in which
supply of labor is overwhelming compared to its demand.
Economic conditions are exacerbated by the political
stance of the Suharto regime. After annihilating all left
oriented unions in 1965 and 1966, the regime finally settled
INDONESIAN WORKERS AND THEIR RIGHT TO
ORGANISE. Indonesian Documentation and Infor
mation Centre (INDOC), P.O. Box 11250, 2301 EG
Leiden, The Netherlands, 1981, 148 pp. Hfl. 17.50.
INDOKUMENTA, Untranslated documents from In
donesia, and Maandoverzicht Arbeiders in Indonesiii
and Mensenrechten in Indonesiii, quarterly document
collections translated into Dutch. Also available from
INDOC.
in 1973 on a national labor federation created in part with
the assistance of the AFL-CIO affiliated International
Confederation of Free Trade Unions and the Friedrich
Ebert Foundation associated with the West German Social
Democratic Party. The new "All Indonesia Labour Fed
eration" (FBSI) is heavily staffed with military appointees
and has little power other than that granted by the govern
ment. It's philosophy and actions demonstrate a corpor
atist approach to labor relations. Most strikes have been
wildcats, denounced by the Federation as inimicial to the
"development" process (a convenient ploy also used
against political parties by the military as a way of stifling
debate) and the Federation's attitude is perhaps summed
up in a banner, a photograph of which is reproduced in the
book and on which is painted "Workers are the Partners of
Entrepreneurs and the Government. "
But what has the partnership meant for the workers?
Even the head of the government-controlled Federation
admits that "60% of Indonesian laborers receive less than a
living wage." The low wages are compounded by harsh
conditions: day or piece work hiring that circumvents pen
sions, sick pay, and other requirements; use of very young
women who are easier to control; frequent arbitrary firings,
whether for shop floor militancy; pregnancy; unwillingness
to provide sexual favors to the boss and so on. The study
documents several cases of unsafe and unhealthy working
conditions as well, and illustrates that many workers, de
spite the difficult economic and political situation in
Indonesia, are willing to struggle against such conditions
with wage and union recognition demands.
The harsh reality of industrial work in Indonesia is,
however, that even the most determined struggles are up
against extremely difficult odds. Employers have no diffi
culty in calling out security forces against workers, with
beatings, jailings and shootings as results. The FBSI has no
strike fund and the only legal help comes from the under
staffed and overworked Legal Aid Institute (LBH). In
February, 1981, even this minimal assistance was outlawed
by fiat from the country's (military) security organization,
KOPKAMTIB, which was responsible for organizing
much of the 1965 anti-Communist massacre and the hold
ing for fourteen years of thousands of political prisoners.
62
KOPKAMTIB, the Command for the Restoration of Or
der and Security, followed its ban on legal aid to strikers
with an official ban on strikes in August of 1981 and, in
September and October the press was silent about workers
actions. These most recent events have taken place in an
atmosphere of generally increasing repression in the
country.
Indonesian Workers concludes with a summary and
analysis of the conditions of work and the obvious viola
tions of ILO (International Labor Organization) conven
tion no. 98 guaranteeing basic rights to organize trade
unions, that was signed by the country's leaders in 1956.
Gross neglect ofthe welfare ofIndonesian workers and their
families characterizes all types of company, whether large,
medium or small, private or state-controlled, owned by
Western, Japanese, "overseas Chinese," or domestic in
terests. This sacrifice of the workforce is sanctioned by the
Government in the interests of increasing and encouraging
capital investment.
The "gross neglect" is analyzed through a description
of recruiting practices, wage levels, dismissals, health and
safety conditions, forced labor, and the government's sup
port for an almost total right of employers to set wages and
conditions of work.
What does all this mean to the individual worker?
Four brief case histories are provided. They do not pretend
to be exhaustive, but suggest what life is like for many if not
all industrial workers in Indonesia today. An excerpt from
the case of Maryam is illustrative:
When I first met Maryam, she had only been in the factory for
three months. She was lively, with bright, flashing eyes.
Openly friendly, she attracted people, and seemed never
short offriends and admirers. Just under a year later, her
spirit was broken. First, a needle on one of her machines
snapped, and the manager said she must pay. They would
dock her wage by Rp. 2,000 a month for three months. She
could either agree or find another job. She decided to stay
andfoot the bill. . . . One night the bus to collect herfor the
night shift didn't turn up. The factory counted this as a day
off, and she lost a further Rp. 1,000 from her bonus. Then,
the endless round ofshift work and inadequatefood began to
take its toll. Talking with me during her rest hours, she was
obviously exhausted. She would lose the thread ofconversa
tions and nod off, her eyes still open but glazed. She began
accusing other workers ofgetting at her; she got involved in a
row with a security guard. She appealed to her manager
shefelt she had worked hard and loyally, so he was bound to
support her. Her loyalty was not returned. She was sacked
with one day's notice.
For those who want to follow the development of the
Indonesian workers' movement, Indonesian Workers and
their Right to Organise provides valuable data and useful
source documentation. The study is currently being sup
plemented and updated by five related publications of the
Leiden-based Indonesian Documentation and Information
Center. INDOKUMENTA is a collection of Indonesian
original documents on social, cultural and economic issues,
appearing about four times per year. A quarterly bulletin
of documents on human rights (including a special collec
tion on the Indonesian writer Pramoedya Ananta Toer),
and a separate quarterly on workers' issues are also pub
lished in Dutch. The Center has also issued 1982 and 1983
updates which further add to the immense value of the
publication to students of Indonesia. *
Sources on Indonesia
Seven Ways of Selling Out/Daniel Foss and Ralph Larkin
Identity Fonnation and Social Movements/Richard Weiner
In Defense of Revisionism/Gene Grabiner
Hegemony and Education/Philip Wexler and Tony Whitson
Social-Clinical Case Discussion/Bill Glover, Bruce Smith, Eli Zaretsky
Sexism and the Hidden Society/Edward Jones
Notes/Russell Jacoby, Ilene Philipson, Ed Silver
Back issues No. l/Breaking the Neopositivist Stranglehold and No. 2/
Critical Directions: Psychoanalysis and Social Psychology are
Subscription rates: Individual, S12.50/yr.; Student, $10/yr.; Foreign
postage, $3 additional, US dollar check. Address: Psychology and
Social Theory, East Hill Branch, Box 2740, Ithaca, New York 14850.
63
INDOC: Indonesian Documentation and Information Center
Postbus 11250
2301 EG Leiden
The Netherlands
Stichting Informatie Indonesie
Postbus 4098
1009 AB Amsterdam
The Netherlands
Tapol
8a, Treport St.
London SW18 2BP
England
East Timor Human Rights Committee
Box 363
Clinton Station
!
,
Syracuse NY 13201 I
Timor Newsletter
Rua Damasceno Monteiro, 14A RIC
1100 Lisbon
Portugal
!
Two sources in Indonesian are:
Dialog Nusantara
Admiralengracht 126 (IN)
!
1057 GE Amsterdam
I
The Netherlands
Kancah
f
c/oEmil
29, rue Berthe I
75018 Paris
I
France
A Review Essay
Friends and Enemies of the People
by Timothy Brook
Ensconced in the safely distant present, modem
historians have looked back in blanket approval to peasant
rebellion and banditry, searching for a new history of the
people and not their rulers. The sensitive work of Eric
Hobsbawm, particularly Primitive Rebels and Bandits, has
pioneered a methodology to rescue outlaws from
traditional ruling-class condemnation and set them in the
context of specific sociohistorical processes and pressures.
Many historians of China, notably Susan Naquin and
Elizabeth Perry, have followed this lead with impressive
effect.
The urge to cast the bandit in a favorable, even ro
mantic, light has a history that predates current scholarly
fashion. This was the common technique of popular story
tellers: Robin Hoods were far more endemic to the
people's literature than to Sherwood Forest.
Evariste-Regis Huc, a French missionary who recounted
his travels in China in the late 1840s inA Journey Through the
Chinese Empire (New York: Harper, 1855), remarks on the
popularity that outlaws enjoyed among the Chinese
people:
Sometimes they will even go and denounce themselves to the
magistrates from a motive of pride. They confess all their
crimes, furnish the most i"esistable proofs, and demand
condemnation; and then, when all the preparations have
been made, and when, according to Chinese law, the confes
sion is necessary; they deny all that they have said, and
endure with incredible stoicism all kinds of torture. It might
really be thought they took pleasure in having their limbs
mangled, provided only that they could enrage the Manda
rins, and defy the laws. Sometimes they succeed in bringing
their judges into difficulties, and even getting them dismissed
from their offices; and this is their greatest triumph. In all the
towns of China you find numerous collections of little pam
phlets, which fonn in some measure the judicial records and
causes celebres of the Empire. They contain dramatic
biographies of the most famous kouan-kouen [guanggun:
, , bare sticks, " the marginal men who often become bandits} ;
and as they cost but a few sapecks they are eagerly bought
and read by the people (vol. 2, p. 242).
Popular culture carries this romantic predilection for tales
CHINESE PERSPECTIVES ON THE NIEN RE
BELLION, by Elizabeth Perry. Armonk: M. E.
Sharpe, 1981, preface & 140 pp., $25.00.
THE PEOPLE VERSUS THE TAIPINGS: BAO
LISHENG'S "RIGHTEOUS ARMY OF DON
GAN," by James Cole. Berkeley: Center for Chi
nese Studies, 1981, preface & 83 pp., appendixes,
glossary, and bibliography, $6.00.
of resistance to conventional state authority, for these stir
the imaginations of those who by and large live passively
under its domination. Only rarely, under particular circum
stances, could such tales stir the peasants to real action; but
when this happened, they fancied themselves as latter-day
Water Margins heroes.
The image of rebels and outlaws as friends of the
people runs through the Chinese essays and popular tales
collected and beautifully translated by Elizabeth Perry in
Chinese Perspectives on the Nien Rebellion. The Nian of
northern Anhui, who grew from salt-smuggling to open
rebellion in the mid-nineteenth century, left behind a legacy
of folk tales which were transcribed as part of an oral
history project and published in 1962 (and recently
reprinted in 1979). Of the eight selected by Perry for the
second half of her book, five recount how individuals were
radicalized by their personal experience of exploitation
into striking out against local landlords, and three describe
Nian victory in battle after they had risen in rebellion.
Cleaving to the popular literary conventions for rebel
heroes, these stories have only praise for the Nian, and
righteous condemnation for their opponents, the land
lords, the local militia, and the Qing armies.
The more important section of Perry's book is the first
half, in which she presents eight essays originally published
in Hefei, Peking, and Shanghai between 1955 and 1963.
The principal focus of the selection is the historical de
velopment of the Nian. In her introduction, Perry
acquaints the reader with the authors, then arranges their
essays in an order that allows the reader to go through
several of the important scholarly controversies in China
concerning the Nian. In the first essay, Zhang Shan, under
the pseudonym Xiao Lu, links the Nian to general socio
economic and ecological circumstances, whereas Jiang Di
in the second essay prefers to set them in relation to the
tradition of secret societies. Zhang's colleague Ma
Changhua, in the third essay, identifies the Nian as a
parochial clan union rather than a sectarian society,
whereas Luo Ergang in the fourth chooses to present them
as a revolutionary military force that served the Taiping
cause. Ma and Luo again disagree in the fifth and sixth
essay over the significance of the term Nian; and Jiang and
64
Luo debate the character of the Nian in the seventh and
eighth essays, Luo contending that they sought to found a
"revolutionary regime," and Jiang seeing them as "an open
movement" bound by ties of kinship and
habItatIon. Even these brief summaries hint at the
divergence of interpretation within the field of rebellion
studies in China: one extreme rushes all social disturbances
to revolutionary conclusions, the other prefers to
emphasize the local survival objectives of outlaws. Both of
course adhere to the view which sees rebels as being friends
of the p.eople, since. any alternative to state power, by
threatemng the SOCIal bonds controlling the peasants,
promotes the peasants' interests at the expense of the
exploiting classes.
Under some historical circumstances, however, rebels
were clearly the enemies of the people, and this is the
theme of James Cole's provocative The People Versus the
Taipings: Bao Lisheng's "Righteous Anny ofDongan" . Cole
opens in the preface with the modest proposal that we
should consider stepping outside the bounds of current
scholarly fashions in order to generate empirical
kr,t0wledge about the life of the people. Then he proceeds
wIthout ado to a concise and creative portrayal of a local
resistance movement organized by a peasant against the
Taipings. This is a minor incident in the history of the
Taiping rebellion, but significant for contemporary think
ing on peasant rebellion in general.
When Taiping forces invaded northern Zhejiang in
1861, a young peasant named Bao Lisheng organized a
self-defense group that he called the Righteous Army of
Dongan (District). Bao was said to have received esoteric
instruction and was popularly believed to possess
D?-agIcal powers, and when the Taipings approached Bao
vIllage, the members of the community-both gentry and
peasants-turned to him to lead them in their defense
the outside invaders. Bao's charismatic power in
spIred the defenders and intimidated the invaders. After a
few minor victories on Bao's side, the Taiping soldiers
so demoralized that they believed that being sent
agamst Bao meant certain death. But the sheer weight of
numbers played against Bao's powers, and in the late sum
mer of 1862, after four months of siege, Bao village fell to
the Taipings and its fourteen hundred residents and re
fugees from the surrounding area were slaughtered. Bao
himself died of a bullet wound at the age of twenty-four.
. as we have now become to interpreting
TaIpmg actIVIty as representing peasant interests and ex
pressing peasant anger against the gentry landlords and
their state, we may be somewhat taken aback by Bao's
refusal to acquiesce to a Taiping leader's sugges
!ion m a letter to him that he join their cause. For Bao, as
m?eed for most peasants, the ethnic composition of the
Qmg outlined by the Taiping
leader to JUStIfy the rebellion-meant nothing whatsoever.
Except. under particular circumstances, peasants suddenly
m the swell of a rebellion that has originated outside
theIr area do not necessarily want revolution. They want
the preservation of their communities and the maintenance
of peace, without which crops cannot be planted and
cannot continue, and they will accept the
dommant political order as long as it more or less satisfies
these conditions of existence. Peace and community are
65
two main themes in Bao's reply to a letter from another
Taiping leader. Bao writes:
The letter which I have re'Jd discusses "the lives of the
people" and speaks in tenns ofa "treaty ofalliance." One
would think these to be the kind words of a benevolent
person. And yet when Shaoxing's prefectural capital fell no
treaties had been promulgated and people's minds had' not
yet been made up. The various atrocities which you, sir,
perpetrated were certainly no surprise. But after the people
had been pacified, tribute bearers lined the roads, and those
who supported you were sincere in their vows [of 10yaltyJ. It
was widely said that the few, exhausted holdouts [like Bao
himself] would come round. And yet who would have known
that at the beginning ofthe ninth month last year [1861J and
to this very day, the debauchery, the pillaging,
the burnmg, and the murder would continue as before? Is
this the behavior ofthose who love the people? . .
Your Heavenly Dynasty's successes and failures are not
worth pitying. The only thing J pity, sir, is that with your
outstanding talent you have been led astray . You have aban
doned your parents, your Wife, your children, and are con
tent to keep company with rats and dogs . .. (pp.55-56).
One of the most striking revelations Bao makes in this
letter is his suggestion that the people of Shaoxing might
have been willing to support the Taiping cause, had they
not been brutalized by the Taiping troops. North Zbejiang
had no reasons to reject the declared
objectIves of the Truping cause, but they did object natur
ally to being its victims. Taiping treatment meant that the
no choice but to oppose the Taipings, and in this
OppoSItIon most of the peasants stood shoulder to shoulder
with the gentry. Deep gulfs separated these two in the
processes of r,tormal production and livelihood, but lineage
and commuruty bound them together in the face of a com
mon enemy. In fact, the only person to break ranks and
join the Taiping cause was a gentry opportunist by the
name of He Wenqing (ch. 11).
The contrast between the two rebellion events in the
.and Cole is unmistakable: one group of rebels
m theIr base area m northern Anhui were clearly friends of
the people, and another group coming into northern
Zhejiang were enemies. This contrast diminishes consider
ably if the historian steps back from the events and views
as I?arts of larger social movements, with peasants
nsmg agamst the exploitation of gentry landlords and the
hegemony of state officials, engaging in social disturbances
which. without doubt mortally undermined the authority of
the Qmg state. But when the historian steps close to the life
of the people, the contrast between the two forms of
becomes vivid, and an explanation of a par
peasant response to rebellion requires the investiga
tIon of many other factors.
In the case of the Nian, one has to recognize the charac
<?f political in northern Anhui: state power was
mmImally operatIve and conflicts could be resolved only by
other agencies of control, such as access to land or the exer
cise o.f authority a lineage. The stories in Perry's book
mentIon two competing control organizations, the Nian and
the 0>w Society (Laoniu hui). The Old Cow Society was a
!ocal mIlitia group organized to counter Nian predatory activ
Ity. In northern Anhui it appears to have been led by gentry
landlords and hence figures in a villain's role in Nian
stories: in "Killing Niu Keng," for example, peasants
forced into the Old Cow Society tum scepticism to anger
and eventually rise up against the local landlord who
pressed them into service. But are we therefore justified in
claiming that the Old Cows were a tool of the landlord
class? Consider the testimony of the missionary Huc con
cerning a contemporary Old Cow Society in northern
Hebei which, he says, was organized by "a simple villager"
to protect villages against bandits living in the hills.
The regulations were briefand simple.
The members were to enroll as many people as possible
in their ranks. They bound themselves to be always ready to
aid each other in the capture ofany robber, great or small.
Every robber or receiver ofstolen goods was to have his
head cut off immediately upon arrest, all form oftrial being
dispensed with, and the value ofthe object stolen not being
taken into account. As it was easy to foresee that these
proceedings would entail disputes with the tribunals, the
whole society was responsible for each member, and took
upon itself collectively to answer for all heads cut off.
This formidable society immediately commenced opera
tions with unexampled energy and unity ofpurpose; heads of
robbers, both great and small, fell with amazing and awful
rapidity, and one night the Associates assembled silently in
great numbers to take a tsey-ouo [zeiwo] or Robbers' Nest.
This was a notorious village lying at the bottom of a
mountain gorge; the Society ofthe Old Bull surrounded it on
all sides, set fire to the houses, and all inhabitants, men,
women, and children, were burnt or massacred. Two days
after this frightful expedition, we ourselves beheld the yet
smoking ruins ofthe Robbers' Nest (vol. 2, p. 84).
Although it is possible to suppose that the bandits were all
displaced peasants and the founding members of the
society were all landlords, the startIingly violent conflict
described by Huc would appear to have other bases. Both it
seems were settled groups, the bandits living with their
families in the hills and the "Associates" living with their
families on agricultural land. To use Elizabeth Perry's cate
gories in her remarkable study, Rebels and Revolutionaries in
North China, 1845-1945 (Stanford: Stanford University
Press, 1980), the two were following different strategies of
survival in a region where, as Huc says on the preceeding
page, "the Mandarins of the nearest town" declined to
exert any control. The outlaws in the hills adopted a pre
datory strategy and the peasants on the plain adopted a
protective strategy, and these brought the two groups into
violent conflict. Under such conditions, there was clearly
nothing uniting the interests of hill peasants and plain
peasants who were locked in inter-community competi
tion. Analogously, the unity of interests of Old Cow peas
ants and Nian peasants in "Killing Niu Keng," if indeed it
actually existed, was probably based not on class solidarity
but on the particular conditons under which that Old Cow
unit had been organized. For many communities and
lineages in northern Anhui, the Nian were predatory out
laws, not Robin Hoods.
The divergence of interests between the Nian and
some peasant communities tended to increase the further
em Jiangsu, "fearing a battIe, had run off in fright" (p.
128). Other sources, such as the following first-hand ac
count by a local person named Ma Xingyi, attest to a
fundamental alienation between the rebels and the people,
of a sort that would have been familiar to Bao Lisheng:
When the Nian burned and plundered villages, they spared a
few to lodge in. When they left, they smeared the ancestral
halls and images with excrement, shattered every vessel and
jug, chopped up bamboo implements, smashed up windows
andfurniture, and dumped the grain they couldn't carry into
dungheaps, such was their brutality. Women who refused to
give up their chastity died gruesome deaths, and those who
were glad to let the men do as they pleased ended up suffering
the same violent treatment. One woman I heard of was
stripped naked, had bells tied to her breasts, and was gang
raped. They thought the tinkling of the bells was entertain
ing. Then there was a young boy a little over ten whose hands
they crushed with a milling stone while a dozen people looked
on (quoted in Fang Yulan, XingJie riji huiyao [Excerpts from
a starry diary], in Nianjun [The Nian army], vol. 1, p. 312.
One could contrive to understand this incident as a case of
social banditry by supposing that the woman and the boy
w.ere members of an exploitive class falling victim to the
VIolence of class revenge, but this reviewer for one is
skeptical, given that we can find identical brutalities being
inflicted on the people by the government troops sent to
crush the Nian rebels. I cite this example only to suggest
that the relationship between the Nian and the people is far
more problematic than the cheery tales in Perry's book
would have us believe.
Both books are important for reminding us that the
historiography of peasant rebellion is only in its infancy. We
know that pre-modem Chinese society was rent by conflicts
between landlords and peasants, and between the state and
peasants, but we are only beginning to perceive the con
flicts between lineages and between communities, with
little understanding of the circumstances conditioning such
c.onflicts. We know that rebellion may erupt along class
lines when conventional political order collapses, but we
are ignorant of the dynamic through which rebels become
the friends or the enemies of the people whom they en
counter in their path. Both ofthe events related by Perry and
Cole are plausible outcomes of social disturbance; if they
appear to present opposite conclusions, it is only because
outcomes of such events cannot be theoretically de
nved. But as long as the relationships among people in
are recognized to be contingent upon actually exist
109 CIrcumstances-such as lines of political authority, eco
logical conditions for group conflict, and the social cohe
sion of group structures-we will not be surprised when the
people's friends and enemies are not always the ones we
might have chosen for them. *
:.
..
.,
f!!
the Nian roamed from their base area. The only hint of this
antagonism in the Nian tales in Perry's book appears in
"Coffin Trick," in which the residents of a village in north
66
South Korea Under Park Chung
Bee: Development or Decay?
A Review Essay
by Sung-i1 Choi*
In the preface to each of the eight volumes under
review, the general editors of the series express dissatis
faction with the existing literature on south Korean de
velopment because of its preoccupation with macroecon
omic factors such as "monetary, fiscal and foreign
exchange magnitudes and ... the underlying policies af
fecting these magnitudes." It is for this reason that they
propose to undertake an investigation of
the elements underlying the remarkable growth of the
Korean economy and the distribution of the fruits of that
growth. together with the associated changes in society and
government; and. . . the importance of foreign economic
assistance. particularly American assistance. in promoting
these changes.
Although this expanded scope of analysis appears to
promise new insights into the process and the consequences
of modernization during 1945-1975, the whole undertaking
resembles a "search and destroy" mission due to the
absence of a conceptual framework that can provide logical
and theoretical coherence in terms of analytical and evalua
tive categories and criteria. Lacking a conceptual frame
work adequate for understanding what constitutes, gen
erates, and results from modernization, the authors plunge
I would like to acknowledge the support of the Social Sciences Research
Council and Hobart and William Smith Colleges in preparing this review
article. 67
STUDIES IN THE MODERNIZATION OF THE
REPUBLIC OF KOREA: 1945-1975, 8 vols.,
published by the Council on East Asian Studies,
Harvard Univ.
EDUCATION AND DEVELOPMENT IN
KOREA, by Noel F. McGinn, et ai. 1980, 28S pp.
GOVERNMENT, BUSINESS, AND ENTRE
PRENEURSIllP IN ECONOMIC DEVELOP
MENT: THE KOREAN CASE, by Leroy P.
Jones and n Sak.ong, 1980, 434 pp.
THE DEVELOPMENTAL ROLE OF THE
FOREIGN SECTOR AND AID, by Anne O.
Krueger, 1979,256 pp.
GROWTH AND STRUCTURAL TRANSFOR
MATION, by Kwang SDk Kim and Michael
Roemer, 1979, 195 pp.
RURAL DEVELOPMENT, by Sung Hwan Ban,
et ai, 1980, 468 pp.
URBANIZATION AND URBAN PROBLEMS,
by Edwin S. Mills and Byung-nak Song, 1979,310
pp.
ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT, POPULA
TION POLICY, AND DEMOGRAPIDC
TRANSmON IN THE REPUBLIC OF
KOREA, by Robert Repetto, et ai, 1981,294 pp.
THE ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL MODERN
IZATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF KOREA, by
Edward S. Mason, et ai, 1980, 552 pp.
blindfolded into the topical areas of their respective ex
pertise. The result is a comprehensive, yet disjointed and
stilted account of south Korean development.
Not surprisingly, therefore, the reader is left with the
burden of imposing conceptual order on the eight volumes
that make up the series. A reasonable solution is to group
them in the following manner. The Kim-Roemer study of
economic growth and structural transformation may be
construed as an overview of the nature and process of
economic growth during 1945 and 1975, while the studies of
education (by McGinn, et al.), government, business, and
entrepreneurship (by Jones and Sakong), and foreign sec
tor and aid (by Krueger) can be seen as analyses of the
,
~
sources of development. On the other hand, the volumes
on rural development (by Ban, et al.), urbanization (by
Mills and Song), and demography (by Repetto, et al.)
represent an evaluation of the consequences of moderniza
tion. Finally, the broad examination of economic and social I
modernization of Korea by Mason, et al. is intended as a
synopsis of the first seven volumes. The review which fol
lows is organized in accordance with this understanding of
I
,
the respective foci of the eight volumes.
I
The Nature of Economic Growth, 1953-1975
!
In Growth and Structural Transformation, Kim and
I
Roemer note the devastating effect of the Korean war on
f
the economy, which had recorded substantial growth dur
ing the colonial period. As a result, the post-war task in the
1950s was to restore economic productivity to the pre-war
level. This explains why import substitution became the
principal factor in what little economic growth that was
attained during this period. However, import substitution
created an "inward-orientation" that was much greater
than other countries with similar economic structures
(p.137).
In the early 1960s, Park Chung-Hee drastically altered
the major thrust of government economic policy and made
a concerted effort to industrialize the economy through
export expansion. The one-sidedness as well as the success
of his developmental strategy can be readily seen by the
fact that export expansion accounted for forty-four percent
of the growth of manufacturing output during 1963-73,
compared to the corresponding figure of nine percent in the
1955-63 period (p. 119). In macroeconomic terms, south
Korea sustained a 7.1 percent annual growth rate in per
capita income from 1960 to 1975, the highest rate among
non-petroleum exporting Third World countries (p. 126).
Kim and Roemer conclude that the south Korean economy
appears well on its way toward modernity aided by do
mestic savings, a rise in total factor productivity, govern
ment's economic management, foreign aid, and interna
tional competition. What are the other additional factors
that contributed to this economic growth? The other
authors attempt to address this question.
The Catalysts of Economic Growth
Education
Education and Development in Korea by Noel McGinn,
et al., undertakes a search for "elements underlying the
remarkable growth," which have been overlooked by the
existing literature. Its main findings suggest that, in spite of
the great emphasis and prestige traditionally accorded to
education in Korean society, it did not facilitate, to any
appreciable extent, the development of the human re
sources necessary for economic growth. For example, edu
cation accounted for a small proportion of the nation's
increasing GNP since 1966 especially (chap. 3).
Further, the authors contend that the dominant peda
gogic approach impedes the development of creativity,
innovation, and entrepreneurship, the essential attributes
of the modem individual who would aspire to, and gen
erate, economic growth. They cite for evidence the stress
on memorization of facts and on collectivist and conformist
values and attitudes rather than on understanding prin
ciples and allication.
If the content and methods of the Korean educational
system supplied little direct impetus to economic growth,
they, nonetheless, aided in the legitimation of the develop
mental process. That is, they served as the handmaiden of
the Park Chung-Hee regime in its "socialization of the
population [that is, students and adults] into the basic
attitudes of compliance with a strong central government"
(p.241).
Paradoxically, the authors note, college students ex
hibited generally critical attitudes toward the government.
Furthermore, viewing themselves as the elite of the society,
they consider conscientious participation in the political
movement for social justice more important than the study
of academic subjects (p. 213). Therefore, continuing ex
pansion of higher education would produce rising expecta
tions of, and demands for, greater political participation.
The authors thus believe that the south Korean govern
ment is confronted with a choice between unrelenting re
pression and a movement toward an open, parliamentary
democracy (p. 201).
It is argued that, notwithstanding this underlying ten
sion between education and economic growth, they are
parallel processes, a noteworthy departure from the Euro
pean experience in which the diffusion of modem attitudes
through education was the precondition of economic de
velopment (p. 190). Curiously, however, the authors gloss
over this discrepancy with no more than obscure generali
zations (pp. 126-217). This requires critical comment as
there is reason to suspect a close relationship between
education and development.
For example, the collectivist and conformist content of
south Korean education is deemed incompatible with the
character structure requisite to economic growth. In so
arguing, the authors demonstrate their oblivion to the fact
that the south Korean developmental path is a centrally
directed one that leaves little room for individual entre
preneurship and initiatives. These individual traits are no
doubt vital elements for economic management and
growth under the laissez-faire system ala America and
western Europe, in which small and middle-sized enter
prises figured prominently in development by strengthen
ing the elasticity of the domestic market in production,
consumption, and employment. 1
In contrast, the south Korean model does not rely as
much on the middle economic sector as its western counter
part because its success has been "accomplished by expos
ing the economy increasingly to international competition,
rather than by protecting domestic industries."2 As a re
sult, the middle economic sector in south Korea is severely
truncated and crippled by a maddening centralized drive
for export expansion in which collectivism and conformity
are the essential ingredients for the successful implementa
1. These small- and medium-sized enterprises will be referred to hereaf
ter as the middle economic sector. In addition to the important economic
functions they perform (i.e., effectively coping with short-term fluctua
tions in the market as well as ably responding to the particular demands of
localities, for which big industries are not well suited), they are also
considered essential to the building and maintenance of democracy. For
example, Aristotle argued that the middle class, by virtue of its moderate
wealth, is "most ready to follow rational principle." Therefore, he
thought that "the best political community is formed by citizens of the
middle class ... " See his Politics and Poetics. translated by Benjamin
Jowett and Thomas Twining (New York: Viking Press, 1957), pp. 109
110. Many contemporary scholars of democracy have argued similarly and
conceived of the middle sector as an integral component of the democratic
infrastructure. According to them, small- and medium-scale entre
preneurs are more likely than either rich or poor people to possess the
characteristics of the democratic citizen such as individual initiative,
autonomy, self-confidence, rationality, an active interest in community
affairs, etc. As such, the middle economic sector, insofar as its relation to
democracy is concerned, is more than a structural concept that also
connotes certain psychological traits conducive to the evolution and
maintenance of democracy. See, for example, Ralf Dahrendorf, Society
and Democracy in GemuJny (Garden City: Doubleday, 1969); also,
Timothy A. Tilton, "Social Origins of Liberal Democracy: The Swedish
Case," American Political Science Review, 68 (June 1974), pp. 561-571.
2. Kim and Roemer, op. cit .. p. 154.
68
tion of Park Chung-Hee's developmental strategy.
Further, the export-led growth was the combined
product of indigenous cheap labor, foreign capital and tech
nology. It required, therefore, a large pool of laborers,
whose educational attainment was sufficient to make them
productive but minimal enough to discourage expectations
for career advancement. As long as the south Korean econ
omy remains export-oriented, then a sizeable portion of
the working population will perforce languish in a state of
minimal literacy and poverty. The government's resolute
suppression of labor rights and enforcement of low wages
conspires with the conformist orientation instilled by the
system to ensure that workers remain trapped
10 the VICIOUS cycle of low wages and little education.
Viewed in this light, it appears that "education" has played
a vital role in development.
Government
Jones and Sakong, Government, Business, and Entre
preneurship in Economic Development: The Korean Case, sug
gest Park's interventionist economic policy was a catalyst
development. In particular, they contend that, unlike
his predecessors, Park considered ecbnomic growth central
to the legitimation of his reign and thus had the entire
nation totally committed toward that end.
According to the authors, Park launched his drive for
economic growth with workers and entrepreneurs who
were attuned to the environment of modem technology
and organization during the colonial period. Park is
credited for having put into productive use this substantial
human capital, which had been hitherto wasted and mis
managed. In addition, Park set out to create a bureaucratic
milieu which was singularly dedicated to the goal of econ
omic growth. Such branches of government as the legisla
tive and the judiciary, which had little to do with this goal,
were relegated to secondary or even tertiary status.
The successful growth ofthe economy is attributed not
to the originality of the developmental strategy but rather
to the resourceful, driven, and disciplined manner in which
human capital and bureaucracy were mobilized for its im
plementation. The government became the main motor of
growth by virtue of its effectiveness and use of compulsion
in tactical engineering rather than by its imaginativeness or
novelty in strategic formulation. Hence, the label of a
"hard state" for south Korea under Park Chung-Hee
(p. 132 ff.).
The primacy of politics thus leads the authors to claim
a fundamental difference between the south Korean and
the Japanese models of development. Although govern
ment and business in both countries cooperated closely to
produce unprecedented rates of growth, politics com
manded and business obeyed in south Korea, their respec
tive internal dynamics unlike Japan where the reverse was
supposedly true. The arsenal for inducing compliance
ranged from the manipulation of the foreign exchange
market and credit allocation to direct police action.
Jones and Sakong find it only natural, therefore, that
the behemoth would make its presence felt directly even in
the structure of the economy. Indeed, behind the appear
ance of one of the most capitalistic patterns of economic
growth among the developing countries, the south Korean
economy exhibits unmistakeably socialistic attributes, such
69
as. a large public enterprise sector. Public ownership
relDforces the government's ability to cope with some of
the imperfections. All in all, this volume provides
posItIve of Park's economic policies, which "in
no sense [Imply] endorsement of developments on the p0
litical side" (p. 308).
The main problem with this study lies in the omission
of several factors central to an adequate understanding of
economic performance. First, Jones and Sakong
uncntlcally accept as success indicators aggregate statistics
such GNP or sectoral growth rates. Had they paused to
examlDe the structural changes rather than the longitudinal
trends of these aggregate economic indicators, they would
have surely noted the serious deformity in the structural
growth of the economy.
As noted Park failed to recognize the import
ance of the mIddle economic sector in expanding the ca
pacity the market for employment as well as
!nternatlOnal If it was deliberate negligence,
It was due to his growth strategy that relied on big business.
If it was ignorance, it was probably due to the fact that
Korea never passed through the feudal stage, a structural
and a cultural precondition for a viable middle class. Fur
ther, Park's big busines orientation also reflected his despe
rate need to find a solution to the staggering problem of
foreign debt service.
Lack of a strong middle economic sector is responsible
for a score of maladies that are currently plaguing south
Korea, for example, the extreme vulnerability of its econ
omy to the vagaries of the international market, the inabil
ity o! its domestic market to increase its capacity for pro
and rising unemployment, and the
mtermlDable explOItatIon of labor by big business. Al
though Jones and Sakong point to a comparative statistic
that shows a level of business concentration in south Korea
lower than in many other countries, it hardly constitutes
proof par excellence of a viable middle economic sector
(p. 260 If they had examined not the degree of capital
accumulatIon but the structure of the middle economic
sector p.er se, they would not have approved of Park's
econOmIC record so readily. Their evaluation of the role of
government and the government-business axis accord
ingly, would have been quite different. '
Second, one must question the contention that the
was totally committed to economic growth for
ItS legItimatIon effect. For instance, one may wonder to
extent illegal, private appropriation of wealth figured
10 economic and political decision-making. The June 1980
announcement by the Chun Doo Whan military junta un
derscored this point. According to its report, nine ofPark's
proteges agreed to return to the state $1.8 billion worth of
illegally wealth as part of a bargain to escape
prosecutIon on charges of corruption.
3
It is reasonable to
that corruption might have existed on a much larger
and WIder scale throughout the Park regime.
. The of a mind-boggling amount ofcapital
IDto the politIcal elites does not bear witness to a total
commitment to economic growth. Further, one may justifi
ably doubt the discipline ofPark's bureaucracy and wonder
3. Tong-A Ilbo, June 20, 1980.
I
about the economic implications of such widespread and
stupendous corruption. The essential problem with this
volume is its attempt to evaluate government performance
exclusively within the context of economic policy, when its
economic performance was integrally related to a variety of
political factors, including authoritarianism, repression,
corruption, and external influence.
The Foreign Sector and Aid
The difficult transition from the inward-oriented
import-substitution development to the outward-oriented
export-expansion industrialization was made possible, in
part, by "excess capacity in industries developed primarily
to replace imports" in the 1950s.
4
Foreign aid played a very
modest role in this transition during the Park era, as it
dwindled down to a trickle by the middle 19608. Its main
contribution to economic growth was confined to sustain
ing a certain level of domestic demand for imports and also
creating the "excess capacity" in import substitution indus
trialization.
s
According to Anne Krueger in The Developmental Role
of the Foreign Sector and Aid, the enactment of Foreign
Capital Inducement Law in 1960 began to spur the influx of
foreign capital, which, in time, replaced foreign aid as an
important cog in the functioning of the south Korean econ
omy. Krueger argues that foreign borrowing is an indis
pensable means of adapting and adjusting to the fluctua
tions of domestic and international market conditions.
Foreign capital is, in the main, a pacer and a facilitator
rather than a generator of economic growth. Krueger be
lieves that its absence would have slowed down rather than
prevented economic growth. She points out, however, that
foreign borrowing began to put wrinkles on the appearance
of the economic miracle, as the debt/service ratio began to
skyrocket to thirty percent of export earnings in 1971. The
principal assertion of this study is that an exeptionally
strong government commitment to growth through export
was the necessary condition for economic development,
while foreign capital represented one of its sufficient condi
tions.
Consequences of Economic Growth
and Modernization
Rural Development
Far-reaching changes in rural demography are a pre
requisite to, and a consequence of, industrialization. Ban, et
al .. contend in Rural Development that the migration of the
rural labor force into the industrial and export sectors
represents the rural sector's only major contribution to
economic growth. Overall, they argue that agriculture has
been the beneficiary rather than the benefactor of indus
trialization and development. Specifically, the authors as
sert that the trickle-down effects of economic growth are
evident in the conditions of rural life, which allegedly show
an all-around improvement, for example, a rise in agricul
tural productivity, the stabilization of farm prices, equit
4. Kim and Roemer, p. 123.
able rural income distribution, and the betterment of rural
welfare.
One may challenge the validity of these statements by
asking bluntly: why did more than 476,000 farmers desert
their villages in 1977, many of them simply abandoning
their houses? In that year, more than 8,000 vacant homes
were counted in the Gyongsang region alone, while 781,000
more exited from the villages in 1978.
6
Given their deep
attachment to the land, the peasants would not simply pack
up and leave because of sudden and temporary hardship.
When they renounce their rural heritage, it is more likely
from prolonged and cumulative deterioration of conditions
in agricultural.
In fact, even a cursory reading of south Korean news
papers reveals an array of intractable difficulties. First,
contrary to the authors' contention, the mechanization and
modernization of agriculture became snagged due in part
to the lack of private capital and also in part to the small size
of the average landholding which would make mechaniza
tion costly and ineffective.
7
In addition, the agricultural sector had lost annually an
average of two percent of its labor force in the early 1970s.
As the majority of these rural migrants was under the age of
forty, women and the elderly had to assume the bulk of
agricultural activities, which gave rise to an assortment of
problems. For example, the labor shortage and e c l i n ~ in
labor productivity necessitated an overuse of cheOllcal
fertilizer that raised the acid content of the soil to 5.7
percent, thus paradoxically lowering its fertility' and
caused an increasing reliance on hired farm labor, which
further strapped the farmers financially. 'I
The authors of this particular study offer a completely
different interpretation of these rural problems. For
instance, they try to convince us that the absence of a
coherent rural policy and the rural out-migration acceler
ated the mechanization of the agricultural sector (p. 387).
According to south Korean newspapers, however, the out
come of the government's neglect of the rural sector was
not beneficial but disastrous. During the 1970s, there were
almost daily references in the newspapers to the ineffec
tiveness of farm price policy, inadequate health and educa
tional facilities in rural areas, and the severe damage being
inflicted on the rural population and agricultural pro
ductivity.
There is little question that the primary sector has
been mortally wounded by rather than benefited from
economic growth. Ban, Moon, and Perkins are either
silent, or ignorant, about all these rural difficulties, which
makes their analysis and assessments much less than per
suasive.
Urbanization and Demographic: Trends
If the study of rural development is fraught with highly
dubious and often erroneous judgmental statements, Mill
and Song's work on Urbanization and Urban Problems does
not venture beyond the realm of data, limiting itself basi
6. Tong-A Ilbo, May 14, 1979.
7. Ibid. March 5, 1979.
8. Ibid. November7, 1978.
5. Ibid. 70 9. ibid. June 23, 1979.
cally to the descriptive analysis of several macro-level
urban phenomena and problems. These include the demo
graphic size and structure of cities and diverse sorts of
urban issues such as housing, transportation, land values,
and environmental quality. As such, it represents a rather
sedate description of the trends and problems of urbaniza
tion but fails to delve into their political, economic, and
sociological consequences and implications.
Included in the series is yet another demographic
study entitled Economic-Development, Population Policy,
and Demographic Transition in the Republic ofKorea, which
focuses exclusively on the patterns and trends of migration
and fertility. Insofar as migration is concerned, the study
offers hardly any new data or interpretations that are not
already available in the two preceding studies of rural and
urban developments. On the other hand, the examination
of fertility is new and the authors conduct an extensive
analysis of its relationship with economic development and
also with government policy on family planning.
A Summary and a Critical Overview
The Economic andSocial Modernization ofthe Republic of
Korea by Mason, et al., is a summary of the seven volumes
reviewed thus far and recapitulates their analyses and find
ings. In a nutshell, they single out from the series the
following as the main catalysts of "successful" economic
growth under Park Chung-Hee:
(1) the Japanese occupation with its training of
Korean entrepreneurs and work force as well as its de
monstration of the benefits of modernization;
(2) the social and economic leveling of the Korean
war;
(3) the Confucian emphasis on education and disci
pline;
(4) U.S. economic assistance; and,
(5) Park's determination to modernize south Korea.
The authors conclude that the combined effects of
these factors are:
"all major groups in Korean society have benefited
from the extraordinarily rapid growth in national income
since the early 1960s, though obviously some groups have
benefited more than others" (p. 481); and
"not only had the country achieved a high and sus
tained rate of growth, but it was no longer economically
dependent on the United States or, indeed, any other
country for economic favors" (p. 4(6).
One cannot but question, with the benefit ofhindsight,
the validity of the assertions regarding the equitable dis
tribution of the benefits of modernization and the auton
omy of the south Korean economy. First, even before the
death of Park Chung-Hee, foreign debt servicing had
reached such staggering proportions that some politi
cians-notably Kim Dae Jung during his 1971 presidential
campaign-suggested a moratorium on it. The south
Korean government itseH has publicly acknowledged that
the nation would be forced to default on its debt payments
in 1981 without "economic favors" from the United States
and Japan. Knowledgeable Korean observers have known
for some time that foreign borrowing has been excessive
and reckless. It is puzzling how the Korean experts in
volved in this eight-volume project could have overlooked
the magnitude ofthis problem and its implications for south
Korea's dependency on foreign lenders.
Second, although the general editors insist that the
"fruits" of the growth have been fairly shared by all the
major groups in south Korean society, the available evi
dence strongly challenges the accuracy of this claim. For
example, howcan we account for the rampant labor discon
tent that erupted with volcanic intensities in 1978, eventu
ally bringing down the Park regime? What about the lead
ers of the intellectual and religious communities as well as
the democratic opponents of Park's dictatorship, who all
fell victim to brutal repression? Clearly, the economic
growth, so lavishly extolled by the authors of this series,
bore poisonous fruits for many significant groups in south
Korean society.
Even when the authors do not put forth the claims of
direct benefits to the south Korean people, they tend to
employ cross-national statistics to paint a rosy picture of
Park's accomplishments. They argue, for instance, that
south Korea rates favorably on the international standard
of egalitarianism, that rural income distribution is one of
the most equitable in the world, and so forth. A relatively
respectable standing on egalitarianism, however, does not
mollify the hardship that has befallen the south Korean
workers and farmers. Statistics on relative income or equity
are no more meaningful to these woe-stricken people than
comparative statistics of war casualties are to soldiers in
combat.
Then there is the nagging question about the reliability
of the data on which they base their glossy generalizations.
According to several studies, the data on income distribu
tion have disquieting hiatuses or distortions. For example,
Paul W. Kuznets elaborates on the problem of the data as
follows.
The income-size estimates for Korea are derived from
surveys that exclude wealthy households, single-person
households, non-farm households in rural areas, and small
farmers, which 'results in a bias toward ove"epresentation
ofthose nearer the mean ofthe size distribution ofincome.'
Also, it has been estimated that urban expenditure (and
income) data were as much as 50percent too low in 1964-66,
and 20-30 percent too low in later years . This downright bias
produces suspect results (average urban income below aver
age rural income, for example) and, together with bias
toward the means, should affect measures of income dis
tribution so that they appear to be more equal than they
actually are. 10
There is no question but that the generally positive tone of
analysis and assessments proffered by the authors must be
subjected to a critical re-evaluation because their data base
is weak.
Another recurring theme that needs to be addressed
relates to the alleged homogeneity of Korean society. It is
argued that this supposed homogeneity eased and simp
lified the problems attendant upon modernization. Any
informed observer of Korean affairs, however, would not
consider Korean society homogeneous. Deep-seated re
10. Paul W. Kuzncts, Economic Growth tDUl Structure in the Republic of
Korea (New Haven, Yale University Press, 1m), p. 97.
71
gionalism, for one, has been as. divisive .as
ethnic or religious differences mother sOC1<:tIes.. Hastily
inferring homogeneity from the and
ethnic heritage only reveals a superficIal apprecIatIon of the
complexities of Korean society that has historically been
seething in discord and disunity.
The analytic and interpretive problems noted above
stem largely from an inadequate conceptualization of
velopment, which is the core concept of the
Throughout the series the authors tend to use economIC
growth, development, and
and conceive of the latter two concepts m a purely matenal
istic context.
ll
We certainly would not call an island in
habited by pirates developed simply because of its wealth;
similarly we have to raise larger issues and
analyzing the process of development and modernIZatIon.
We have to know how economic growth, modernization,
and development are attained and how they affect not only
the material but also the social, cultural, and political as
pects of life. Growth in material wi.thout improve
ment in equality and freedom IS meanmgless from a
humanistic standpoint. 12 A wealthy prisoner is poorer than
a poor free man. . .
To broaden the conception of modernIZatIon and de
velopment is to incorporate political questions, whose
absence is noteworthy in this ambitious project. Abridge
ment, suspension, and repression of rights and
were almost consistent characteristics of the Park regtme
that rationalized them as a necessary condition of stability,
which, in turn, was argued to be the prerequisite to sus
tained economic growth. Growth then was used as the
justification for the continued curtailment of fundamental
rights and freedom, thus the Korean
people in the vicious cycle of r.epresslOn. Brutal
ity, corruption, and mdulgence m p?litIcal power grew
apace alongside the aggregate expansIon of the economy.
Should not all this be part of the overall record of the Park
era? While we applaud the efforts of the authors of this
series for having produced the first review of its of the
Park period their conceptions of, and perspectIves on,
growth and development are over!y ma.terialistic and result
in certain serious omissions and distortIons.
Finally, the series is peculiarly silent or ignorant about
the dependency theory, which has emerged since the early
1970s as a most provocative interpretation of the processes
and consequences of development in the Third World.
According to dos Santos, one of the original formulators of
dependencia, the concept of dependence refers to:
a situation in which the economy of certain countries is
conditioned by the development and expansion of another
economy to which the former is subjected. The relation of
interdependence betwen two or more economies, and be
tween these and world trade, assumes the form of depend
11. For a useful discussion of the definitional and conceptual in
the development literature, see Alejandro Portas, "On the SOCiology of
National Development," American Journal of Sociology, 82 (1976), pp.
55-85.
12. For a similar argument, see J. Roland Pennock, "Political
ment, Political Systems, and Political Goods," World Politics, 18 (Apnl
1966), pp. 415-434.
ence, when some countries (the dominant ones) can expand
and can be self-sustaining, while other countries (the depen
dent ones) can do this only as a reflection ofthat expansion,
which can have either a positive or a negative effect on their
immediate development. 13
Accordingly, the dependentistas view development and
modernization in the Third World "not in isolation but as
part of the development of an international capitalist
system, whose dynamic has a determining influence on the
local process. Therefore, foreign factors are seen not as
external but as intrinsic to the system. 14
Indeed, the picture of south Korea that emerges from
the series exhibits many components of dependent de
velopment-"foreign-oriented" exp?rt
as the principal generator of natIonal mcome, mcreasmg
reliance on foreign financing, and rising foreign debt
service. An application of the dependency theory, there
fore, appears to have been in order. At least, the series
should have addressed the main contention of the depen
dentistas that dependency produces an appearance of
growth in the short run but severely damages of
dependent societies in the long run. IS ConsIdenng the
status of the dependency theory in social science today and
its apparent relevance to the south Korean pattern of de
velopment, the authors should have considered its theor
etical and substantive implications for their analyses.
Overall, the series is seriously flawed by the narrow
conception of development, the lack of internal coherence
among the eight volumes, and the silence on the possible
relevance of dependencia. As a result, in spite of its ambi
tious objective of providing a holistic picture of the moder
nization of south Korea, the series gives us only a partial
view of Park Chung-Hee's record which is sorely out of
touch with political reality and humanitarian imperatives. *
13. Theotonio Dos Santos, "The Structure of Dependence," American
Economic Review, 60 (May 1970), p. 231.
14. Osvaldo Sunkel, "Big Business and 'Dependencia,'" Foreign Affairs,
50 (April 1972), p. 519. .
15. For an insightful discussion of the negatIve consequences of depen
dencia, see, for example, dos Santos, "The Structure op.
cit.; also see Susanne Bodenheimer, "Dependency and Imperialism: The
Roots of Latin American Underdevelopment," Politics and Society (May
1971), pp. 327-357.
Books to Review
The following review copies have arrived at the office of the
Bulletin. If you are interested in reading and reviewing one or
more of them, write to Joe Moore, BCAS, P.O. Box R,
Berthoud, Colorado 80513. This brief list contains only books
that have arrived since the last issue. Please refer to that list as
well for other books currently available from BCAS.
Warren I. Cohen (ed): New Frontiers in American-East Relations (Columbia
Univ.,1983). .
NoeIJ. Kent: Hawaii: Islands Under the Influence (Monthly ReView, 1983).
Ralph W. McGehee: Deadly Deceits: My 25 Years in the CIA (Sheridan
Square, 1983). .
Nishikawa Jun: Asean and the United Nations System (U.N. Institute for
Training and Research, 1983).
72