The riverbanks of Tangerang were a refuge for Chinese-Indonesians from bloody scapegoating during the colonial era. But amid plans to relocate them from the area, it may be their last stand.
On Oct. 7, 1740, bands of unemployed laborers attacked Dutch installations in Batavia, killing several Europeans. In the harsh reprisals that followed, thousands of their compatriots were forced to flee the city, regrouping in Central Java, where they launched a series of daring attacks against Dutch East India Company (VOC) stations.
The VOC outpost in Juwana, Central Java, fell in May 1741. In the months that followed, the Dutch were forced to flee their post at Demak, and company personnel were massacred at Rembang. The rebels besieged the coastal headquarters at Semarang, and threatened outposts all along the coast.
Tens of thousands of Javanese joined the struggle, and their combined forces managed to keep the VOC on the defensive for nearly a year. The company, joined by its Madurese allies, finally gained the upper hand early in 1742.
This uprising was one of the most organized, effective, and sustained challenges to the VOC, but it merits scant mention in the histories of resistance to colonial rule in Indonesia. The instigators, you see, were Chinese.
Gateway to the Vihara Maha Bodhi in Tangerang.
Conventional wisdom is that the Chinese served as middlemen to Dutch colonial leaders, willing collaborators in the oppression of the indigenous people (pribumi). Like many stereotypes, this story has some basis in fact.
Chinese immigrants arrived in Java from a society with highly developed trade networks and centuries of expertise in running a centralized bureaucracy, and the Dutch made every possible use of that experience.
Nonetheless, as the uprising of 1741 made clear, relations between the Dutch, the ethnic Chinese and the pribumi were anything but clear-cut.
The Chinese immigrants who launched the conflict were not wealthy middlemen; they were landless, unemployed agricultural workers. Rendered destitute by the decline of the sugar industry, they were terrified that the VOC planned to herd them onto ships and dump them in the Java Sea.
When tensions reached breaking point, the Dutch did nothing to protect their “collaborators” in Batavia. Instead, on Oct. 9, Dutch soldiers launched a general massacre, killing some 10,000 ethnic Chinese.
This slaughter, the “Batavian Fury”, was so bloody that Kali Angke — the Red River — earned the name it still carries today.
Many pribumi participated in the massacre, but when the survivors regrouped and rose against the Dutch, some 20,000 Javanese troops found common cause with them. And this pribumi-Chinese alliance was defeated only when another pribumi faction joined forces with the VOC.
Two-and-a-half centuries later, nobody questions the fundamental right of the descendants of the Madurese collaborators to think of themselves as Indonesian. As pribumi, sons of the soil, Indonesian identity is their birthright regardless of the actions of their ancestors.
Their descendants have faced a much bumpier road. Known as the Cina Benteng — or the “Chinese of the Fort”, for the Dutch strongholds that dotted their settlement in what is now Tangerang — this deeply rooted community has long struggled to claim its rightful place in Indonesia’s history.
Most of today’s Cina Benteng are of mixed ancestry, the result of centuries of intermarriage between the survivors of the 1740 massacre and more recent immigrants, the Sundanese and Javanese.
They speak Indonesian, Sundanese or Betawi at home, and few are conversant in any Chinese language. Cina Benteng homes still give pride of place to altars for their ancestors’ ashes, and their doors are decorated with Chinese calligraphy, even if the inhabitants cannot read the inscriptions themselves.
Many Cina Benteng devoutly observe Taoist rituals, but at a recent gathering to prepare for the annual Dragon Boat festival, guests and participants alike were offered tempeh goreng, sayur asem and ikan bakar — quintessential pribumi foods. Many in the community introduce themselves by two names: one Chinese, one local.
Cina Benteng culture is a unique acculturation between Chinese and Indonesian traditions, says Acong, also known as Hendra, head of a local association for Chinese-Indonesian youth. Even “Chinese” customs, like wedding rituals, are in fact a blend of traditions.
“The groom’s clothes come from the Qing dynasty,” says Acong. “But the bride wears the kebaya nyonya, part of the local tradition.” Many Cina Benteng practices have no exact equivalents, either in China or Indonesia.
Despite the local variations in practice, the Cina Benteng take pride in their ancestors’ culture, as do descendants of immigrants the world over. But most would fare no better in China than a fourth-generation Italian-American or German-Australian would in their erstwhile homelands.
“It would be impossible to survive in a foreign country like that. Our roots are here,” says Danny, whose family has been in Tangerang for more than a century.
“Our emotional connection to Indonesia is so strong, because we were born in Indonesia, we’ve been here for generations. It’s so strong. There’s no doubt about our nationality,” agrees Acong. “The question is how non-Chinese from outside see us.”
The Cina Benteng may have accepted Indonesia as their homeland, but Indonesia has not always been willing to accept them. Despite the principal of “Unity in Diversity” being enshrined in the 1945 Constitution, more than 600 people were killed in anti-Chinese riots in Tangerang in 1946.
General Soeharto’s rise to power in 1965 began with a purge of communists that rapidly descended into wholesale slaughter, with people of Chinese ancestry bearing the brunt.
Inside the Vihara Maha Bodi, a temple established in 1830.
New Order policies suppressing the use of Chinese dialects and Chinese names sat relatively lightly on the Cina Benteng, who already spoke local languages and used a dual naming system. But the ban on
Chinese festivals threatened cherished cultural and religious traditions, and no degree of assimilation was a guarantee against being officially designated as second-class citizens on government documents.
Soeharto and his cronies relied on ethnic Chinese businessmen to run many of their enterprises and keep foreign investment flowing, but the Cina Benteng were generations removed from these lucrative transnational networks.
Most were no better off than their pribumi neighbors, and many were even poorer and more vulnerable thanks to official discrimination. Nonetheless, the deadly 1998 riots hit Chinese communities in Tangerang nearly as hard as those in Jakarta.
The reform era, especially president Abdurrahman Wahid’s inclusive policies, eased many of
the restrictions, and the 2006 Citizenship Law erased the official distinction between Chinese and non-Chinese Indonesians.
Now, however, the Cina Benteng face a new obstacle. Local administrators plan to clean up the Cisadane River with the eviction of 1,007 people living along its banks, most of them Cina Benteng.
On April 12, when local police attempted to begin the eviction, residents refused to leave, and at least 14 were badly injured when protests turned violent. Acong is quick to point out that people of all backgrounds face eviction if they build too close to rivers.
“This is not an ethnic issue,” he says.
But for the Cina Benteng, who fought so ferociously the eviction was delayed, it may be an issue of cultural survival.
When asked to define the term “Cina Benteng”, the most common answer is geographic. “The Cina Benteng are the people here, in this area,” says Danny, whose house is slated for demolition.
The history of the Cina Benteng is nearly invisible in books, but it still survives along the Cisadane River, in the mix of Chinese, Javanese and Sundanese living together, blurring their cultures and identities.
If more than 1,000 people are forced to move away, will they still be the Cina Benteng?
For now, as long as the eviction is delayed, this unique, and uniquely Indonesian culture, is still in place.
— Photos by Isabel Esterman
Read more stories about identity issues in the August WEEKENDER next Friday.
