It was the early 1960s, when first president Sukarno was drunk on nationalism, even jingoism and conveniently forsaking the economy. Inflation shot to the sky, the exchange rate plummeted to the ground. Except for a handful of the elite, most people could not afford a good meal, let alone higher education.

Sukarno might have been the man who marshaled the right spirit of many diverse groups to proclaim independence and wave a middle finger at colonizers, but the man to build pivotal economic and physical infrastructure he clearly was not.

Twentysomething artist Jeihan Sukmantoro watched the harsh reality from the comfort of his house in West Java's Cicadas. Considered very comfortable, if not rather luxurious, by the presence of the neighborhood’s only electrics, Jeihan's house became a gathering site.

When the neighbors came over to listen to the radio or watch TV, all Jeihan saw in their eyes was sadness and hopelessness. To make ends meet, some of the men picked pockets while some women had to go into prostitution. In 1963, his first painting of dark-eyed individuals emerged.

Fast forward to 2019, Indonesia is much more developed than the 1960s. Infrastructure, while remaining unequal, is a lot more available. The economy, while facing challenges lately, has been dubbed one of the most promising among emerging markets. Yet dark eyes are still visible in this country.

Dark eyes are seen in the minority groups who have become increasingly victimized by the rise of identity politics and the nation's gradual drift to the right. Even after death, taunting continues, as vandalized gravestones in Yogyakarta demonstrate.

Dark eyes are glimpsed in the handful of honest politicians whose intentions and accomplishments have been overshadowed by lesser politicians with louder voices in the media.

Dark eyes are found in the hardworking female professionals who still face a wage gap and the social pressure of excelling both on the work and home fronts.

Dark eyes are seen in the face of a 14-year-old Pontianak girl who suffered multiple injuries after being gang-beaten by older teen girls over a love triangle and its corresponding social media fights.

A diverse nation of 250 million souls spread over three time zones and several income brackets, Indonesia is a fertile bed for social ills to grow in. We have higher education at a national level, and technology is certainly seeping into many of the country's far-flung corners, but I do not think the nation is essentially more adept at solving our social problems.

Gender inequality persists, and it goes deeper than catcalls, as it often feeds on outdated traditional customs that many are too afraid to challenge. Even sadder, whatever the older generation of women trailblazers achieved is now threatened by conservatives campaigning for young women to abandon higher education and career building.

In hushed tones, a few minority groups have lamented that their fate may just return to the pre-1998 era. Christians and people of Chinese descent are facing discrimination more openly now, shielded under the mask of "local majority wisdom", with authorities often not taking a stance until a social media outcry has burst out.

The young folks, to whom the future belongs, while often demonstrating more initiative and willingness to speak up, often resemble a chattering crowd swayed easily by hype rather than a demographic voicing of forward change. 

All of the above are in sad contrast to the 81-year-old painting maestro who not only recounts the tale of organizing hideouts for fleeing Chinese-Indonesian friends in the mid-1960s but also reiterates his progressive views today – that civilization only thrives when people start asking critical questions, that women are a formidable force for they hold the continuation of civilization.

Citizens get to elect their leaders, but leaders do not really get to elect their constituents and their baggage in the same manner. The few observations above only occupy a small edge on the tip of the iceberg. Added to them is the divisiveness that has become more apparent, not helped by the fact that in this election both tickets feel the need to play identity politics. I don't know how whoever wins next week will even begin to begin the healing needed to make Indonesians feel whole as a nation again. (ste)

 

-- Lynda Ibrahim is a Jakarta-based writer with a penchant for purple, pussycats and pop culture.