http://asaa.asn.au/reconstructing-history-anti-communist-violence-east-java-indonesia/
Reconstructing the history of the anti-communist violence in East Java,
Indonesia

BY Vannessa Hearman <http://asaa.asn.au/author/vannessa-hearman-2/>

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On 30th September 1965, a group of army officers and soldiers called the
Thirtieth September Movement abducted and killed seven army officers, and
disposed of their bodies in a disused well, at Lubang Buaya, on the
outskirts of Jakarta. While predominantly a movement of progressive
soldiers and officers, the Thirtieth September Movement, as John Roosa has
shown <https://uwpress.wisc.edu/books/3938.htm>, did involve a small
secretive section of the Indonesian Communist Party (Partai Komunis
Indonesia, PKI), the Special Bureau, and party chairman Aidit. The group
had believed it was attempting to prevent an army coup against President
Sukarno. Whether a coup was indeed on the horizon, the army’s response to
these killings was decisive.

The then-chief of the Army Strategic Reserves Command, Major General
Suharto seized upon the tenuous link between the Thirtieth September
Movement and a small section of the PKI to begin an anti-communist
suppression campaign from early October 1965. The PKI was, at that time,
the world’s third largest communist party. Indonesian army officers were
opposed to the PKI during Sukarno’s Guided Democracy (1959-65). To support
the destruction of its erstwhile political rivals, the army and its
institutions spread lies and conducted misinformation campaigns in 1965
onwards that have, according to sociologist Ariel Heryanto
<http://indonesiaatmelbourne.unimelb.edu.au/the-biggest-hoax-of-all-the-30-september-movement>,
come to be accepted as fact in Indonesia. These lies included that members
of the leftist Gerwani (Gerakan Wanita Indonesia, Indonesian Women’s
Movement) tortured and sexually mutilated the seven army men, and that
communist youth gouged out the victims’ eyes. Communists were portrayed as
atheists who planned to slaughter religious believers and who were immoral
and sexually deviant. The army portrayed its activities as being the
defence of the Pancasila, the state philosophy, from communist atheists.
Today, in an age of increased awareness of political hoaxes, Heryanto has
described Suharto’s New Order regime’s version of events at Lubang Buaya as
perhaps the most powerful and destructive hoax in Indonesia’s postcolonial
history.

When in 1968 Suharto officially replaced Sukarno as president, as Chief of
the Armed Forces, Suharto had overseen operations that had consumed half a
million lives and led to the detention, mostly without trial, of hundreds
of thousands of members and sympathisers of the PKI. The New Order regime
he inaugurated spoke little of this mass slaughter and political
persecution. The victims were buried in mass graves, and thrown into
rivers, wells, caves and the sea. Some disappeared from prisons and
detention centres, never to be seen again.

As a person born in Indonesia at the height of the New Order, I was part of
a generation that had had no knowledge of the killings. We were born into a
world cleansed and traumatised by the violence, and by the defeat of a
dream, however naïve it might have been, a dream that was shared by many
Indonesians of a prosperous, advanced, and dignified nation. Our parents
shielded us carefully from talk about relatives and friends who had been
imprisoned or disappeared and warned us not to utter certain words like PKI
or Gerwani. My generation was also that of the primary schoolchildren taken
on an outing to view a new film, the now discredited crude propaganda
movie, *The Treachery of the Thirtieth September Movement/PKI*. This
frightening film became annual viewing on television until 1998 when the
regime fell. My own later activism in Australia in the 1990s in support of
the Indonesian democratic movement generated a curiosity within me to
investigate the absence of a strong left movement in Indonesia. Having seen
over time the corrosive effects of long years of covering up the truth, not
least on those closest to me who are unable to mourn or recall happy
memories of the mid-1960s, I was motivated to delve deeper into the events
of 1965.

When the New Order collapsed in 1998, there was a flow of new research,
oral history collections, public talks and seminars, art exhibitions, films
and literature exploring the anti-communist violence, made possible by the
creators approaching the survivors of this violence. New possibilities for
research into 1965, dubbed by Heryanto as ‘the biggest hoax of all,’
emerged as a result of Indonesia’s democratisation. The book I went on to
write aimed to challenge this version of events by conducting a study on
the PKI in East Java (where I was born), a province where civilians also
committed the violence, a fact that helped fuel the hoax that the
anti-communist operations were a horizontal, people-to-people conflict.
According to the army propaganda, the people spontaneously rose up to fight
the Godless and dangerous communists.

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Map of East Java (by Chandra Jayasuriyan)

In the 1960s, East Java was one of Indonesia’s poorest provinces. It was a
politically mixed province and also constituted the heartland of the NU,
Indonesia’s largest Islamic organisation. I discuss in my book how the PKI
built itself into a formidable force in the province. A distinguishing
feature of East Java was the high degree of involvement of civilians in the
killings and the size of the death toll. A paramilitary group linked to NU,
the Multipurpose Brigades of the NU youth wing, Ansor carried out
executions and round-ups of leftists with or for the army. It is estimated
that some 200,000 were killed and 25,000 detained in this province. A key
section of my book discusses how the violence was encouraged and sustained
by the army and some religious leaders as told by narrators from different
sides of politics; and in turn how perpetrators and those in ‘implicated’
communities of NU supporters in East Java made sense of their own
involvement in, or eyewitnessing of, the violence.

The suppression of the Indonesian Left did not immediately lead to power
being ceded to the army, however. Political scientist Vedi Hadiz has pointed
<https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/14649370600982883> out that it
was ‘easy to forget’ that the process of establishing the New Order was ‘a
rather long and drawn out process’. A protracted struggle ensued between
President Sukarno, his supporters, and non-army sections of the Armed
Forces on one hand, and on the other, those who welcomed a change of regime
including some intellectuals, Muslim groups such as Nahdlatul Ulama and
Muhammadiyah, and the army. Some of my interviewees who had avoided capture
became politically active again as the killings subsided from early 1966 by
joining the Sukarno Brigade, a body initiated by Prime Minister Subandrio
to express support for Sukarno. My book examines how the power struggle
affected the leftists in hiding or in detention, who were hoping for a
swift end to the crisis.

The killings and imprisonment did not completely eradicate the PKI and its
sympathisers. For this reason, my book was as much about the survival of
those who journeyed into hiding and into detention, as well as the death of
hundreds of thousands. In a country where the left movement had been
strong, with the PKI claiming 20 million members (in a country of just over
120 million), the anti-communist drives could not have eradicated this
movement in just a few months. Army reports of ‘underground PKI’ in 1966 to
1968 might have been exaggerated, but were not completely baseless. While
open campaigns could be organised in support of Sukarno, the PKI carried
out underground work to investigate ways of protecting what remained of its
cadre base.

Although it has often been suggested that the PKI leaders abandoned the
rank and file to their deaths, the PKI in fact reorganised and elected a
new national leadership under Politburo member, Sudisman. The new
leadership turned to the East Java branch in its efforts to identify a
suitable hiding place and to explore the possibilities of building a
resistance movement to Suharto. Through oral history interviews, those who
went into hiding told me of how the party was being reorganised in the
small towns of East Java, involving painstaking, slow journeys from
villages into larger towns to find and make contact with leftist
sympathisers. The establishment of the PKI’s South Blitar base constituted
their most important attempt to regroup following the massacres.

But in Indonesia the spectre of anti-communism never went away as Heryanto
has pointed out. Anti-communism has become ingrained through decades of
propaganda. In addition, in the post-authoritarian era, no comprehensive
package of policies and actions was ever enacted that signified Indonesia’s
break with that authoritarian past. Now President Joko Widodo, the man who
pledged in 2014 to tackle past human rights abuses including the 1965 case,
seems to be turning back the clock. Last year, he participated in a public
viewing of the propaganda film, *Treachery of the Thirtieth of September
Movement/PKI* and told *Detik* media outlet
<https://news.detik.com/berita/d-3648128/tni-nobar-g30spki-jokowi-nonton-film-sejarah-itu-penting>
that seeing the film ‘was important in order to know the dangers of
communism and the PKI’. As the fifty-third anniversary of these massacres
approaches, there have been calls, such as by former defence minister,
Gatot Nurmantyo
<https://www.viva.co.id/berita/nasional/1077020-gatot-nurmantyo-tantang-panglima-tni-gelar-nobar-film-g30s-pki>,
for widespread public viewings of the film. While the New Order regime’s
version of history has been partially exposed as a hoax, the struggle of
Indonesians to generate a more truthful history continues, as well as the
struggle to find the unmarked graves and to discover what happened to
missing loved ones.

*Featured image: Statues of three soldiers and a peasant woman at the
Trisula monument, Bakung, Blitar District. The monument commemorates the
anti-communist operations in 1968 in the area. Photo by Vannessa Hearman.*

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