T

his week, the timeline of my social media account has been filled with people’s humorous attempts to lampoon the crackdown on anything suspected of having links to communism and the long-defunct Indonesian Communist Party (PKI).

The police and military started the joke.

 On May 8, Jakarta Police and military personnel arrested a T-shirt seller, Mahdi Ismet, because some of the merchandise in his shop in Blok M Square, South Jakarta, carried the famous hammer and sickle communist symbol. They also confiscated 10 T-shirts bearing an album cover of the German metal band, Kreator. The hammer and sickle is part of Kreator’s logo.

On the same day, police nabbed five members of band Mesin Sampink from Mojokerto, East Java, after they sang the Javanese folk song “Genjer Genjer”, which the military says belongs to the PKI.

The next day the band members were released due to lack of evidence that they were disseminating communism.

Young netizens, however, have made fun of the renewed communist phobia through one funny meme, comic strip and news satire after another.

One of my favorite pieces of satire came from visual artist Agan Harahap. He uploaded a satirical flash news article claiming that the Yogyakarta Police had confiscated a Flowerhorn cichlid fish, locally known as luohan, due to it having a hammer and sickle motif on its head.

In the article distributed through his Facebook account, he included a picture of the poor fish and indeed, the fish had a hammer and sickle motif on its head!

Another is a parody of the legendary loose powder our mothers used, Marcks, which in the spoof was changed to “Marx”. In the image of the canister, the caricature of the brand’s female mascot was also changed into that of communist guru, German philosopher Karl Marx.

Several days before the arrests, I had the honor of moderating a discussion at the ASEAN Literary Festival (ALF), which gave a slot to the group of young people behind the digital storytelling platform Ingat 65 (Remember 65). The number refers to the year that marked the beginning of the slaughter of at least 500,000 people who were accused, without trial, of having links to the PKI, officially the mastermind of the coup attempt in Sept. 30 of the same year.

The founder and editor-in-chief of Ingat 65, Prodita Sabarini, is a dear friend from the time she was a fellow journalist at The Jakarta Post. On March 24, the International Day for the Right to the Truth concerning Gross Human Rights Violations and for the Dignity of Victims, she launched the platform, which uses medium.com, a free online platform for reading and writing. You can find Ingat 65 at medium.com/ingat-65.

 Earlier this year I told her there had been an increasingly convincing indication that certain parties would use “the specter of the PKI” to scare citizens, stifle their voices and muffle criticism. “Aren’t you scared?” I asked. She shook her head and smiled, “I am not.”

During the ALF discussion on May 6, she showed unflinching courage. On the stage at Taman Ismail Marzuki, in Central Jakarta, she sat next to me and another three young women, all displaying the courage to share their personal stories about how the 1965 tragedy had affected them. Architect Puri Lestari, Rappler journalist Febriana Firdaus, and the Post journalist Ika Krismantari are all grandchildren of ‘65 victims. The three have also all written their personal stories for Ingat 65.

Outside, dozens of policemen were posted around the cultural center. There were formidable heavy defense (or offense, I have no idea) vehicles parked outside. On the eve of the festival, the director of the event, author Okky Madasari, received a warning from the police to cancel several programs related to the 1965 tragedy and the rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) people, in light of groups planning to protest those events.  Okky refused to relent and speakers for 1965 and LGBT events all turned up without fear.

Inside the packed Ingat 65 event were men identified by many as obviously “intel” or intelligence officers. Indonesian “intel” are not very subtle.

Among the audience was Puri’s father, Lt. Gen. (ret) Agus Widjojo, the governor of the National Resilience Institute (Lemhanas) state think tank and committee head of the government symposium on the 1965 tragedy. Agus is the son of Maj. Gen. Sutoyo Siswomihardjo, one of the six generals murdered on Sept. 30, 1965.

Several participants asked how one should reach out to a wider circle of people to demand the truth. A young man said he was not a leftist but his humanity wanted to see the truth come out.

Puri, to the admiration of many in the audience, said very clearly that no one should be afraid to speak out. She said she was sorry that her grandfather’s death had been “used to scare young people from speaking out.” “I think I am in a better situation because our family can visit our grandfather’s grave and he was buried with honor. I sympathize with those who cannot put flowers on their family member’s grave.”

She said people were afraid because even though the New Order had collapsed, it was still haunting the nation and trying to scare its youth. “Don’t be afraid to speak out,” she said.

The spirit echoed in my mind. As the moderator I concluded the discussion after two packed hours: I am happy to share with you today, our young people are sending a message. It is loud and clear. We are not afraid. And for the “intel” in the room, please pass on this important message to your bosses.
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The author is a staff writer with The Jakarta Post