“The Filipinos have already carried out strikes,” said Ter Haar. “But their rebellion is even more interesting; it rocked all of Europe, including Holland, Mr. Minke.” He hurriedly lit another cigarette. “They’re all busy studying why it happened so they can make sure nothing similar occurs in their own colonies. A friend of mine knew one of the Native leaders there, someone called Dr. José Rizal. My friend met him in Prague. Rizal was a poet, very brilliant, and a fiery lover also. The Spanish caught him in the end. A great pity—someone as outstanding as that. His faith wasn’t strong enough. A pity.” He smacked his lips. “Of course there can be no doubt now about his fate: The death sentence ended his life story. Someone as cultivated as that, writing poems in Spanish, just as you write in Dutch. A doctor, Mr. Tollenaar, and you too intend to become a doctor. Perhaps that is no coincidence.”
“Somebody educated, a doctor, a poet…rebelling…”
“Maybe the Dutch are cleverer than the Spanish. There has never been any rebellion by educated Natives against the Dutch here. Here the educated Natives always follow the Dutch. The Indies is not the Philippines, Holland isn’t Spain.”
“And he was sentenced to death?” I was reminded of Khouw Ah Soe.
“That’s right. The Spanish military are famed for their viciousness.”
An educated person had rebelled against his own teachers—indeed there had never been anything like that in the Indies.
“And then even when isolated from his comrades, José Rizal did not stand alone. So many, so very many people loved him, because with all his knowledge and learning, he loved his own people so much. Many prominent people, clever people in Europe pleaded with the Spanish government to pardon that brilliant, educated Filipino.”
“What did he want to achieve with this rebellion?”
“You don’t know? He wanted his people not to be ruled by the Spanish. He wanted them to rule themselves. A pity”—he made noises with his lips again—“that inexperienced people in the end became the victims of an alliance between Spain and America.”
“I don’t really understand, Mr. Ter Haar. How could they rule themselves? You mean the educated Natives would replace the Spanish and the Americans to govern their own people?”
“Of course, that’s what they wanted. National independence.”
I conjured up in my imagination the kings and bupatis of Java, mad with their lust for power, making people bow down and crawl before them, give obeisance to them, do their pleasure. And no guarantee that they would be better educated than those they ordered about. I shook my head. Even to imagine the Filipinos governing without white people was beyond me. And here, on my own earth to think of such a thing! To make any sense of it at all was impossible. Without the power of the whites the kings of Java would soon be mobilizing every single inhabitant in the effort to annihilate each other, each trying to emerge the sole triumphant ruler. Wasn’t that our history for centuries?
“What’s the matter?” Ter Haar reacted to my brief silence.
“And what would happen if the Native kings held power again? Imagine how the educated groups would suffer, Mr. Ter Haar.”
“No. The Filipinos intend to govern along American and French lines: a republic—that is, if they won. In such a great awakening as that there were of course many leaders whose thinking was European, and a modern organization also. Not like the peasants of Tulangan. There was an organization that was the engine of opposition.”
“A modern organization?”
“So you are not familiar with the idea of a modern organization?” Now it was he who shook his head.
I couldn’t see his face clearly. The evening darkness provided him with a good disguise. Perhaps he was pitying me, a graduate who didn’t know about modern organizations! Probably Nyai Ontosoroh would have understood and been able to explain it clearly. But truly, I didn’t understand. I stayed silent, no more questions; shame and embarrassment enveloped me now.
The drumming of the ship’s motor shook everything inside my body, even my thoughts.
“In the end,” Ter Haar went on, “the more European science and learning Natives obtain, whatever their race or nation, the more it is certain they will follow in the footsteps of the Filipino Natives, trying to free themselves from European rule. The Filipino Natives wanted to stand up themselves as a free nation, as Japan does now, acknowledged by all the civilized nations of the world.”
“And you include the Indies in this prediction?”
“Of course, though who knows when? And to prevent such a thing from occurring, or at least to postpone it, the government here is especially miserly in handing out European education. Science and learning are sold at the highest price. But there can be no doubt that the Netherlands Indies will arrive at that point one day, as the numbers of educated grow. That day will arrive, perhaps as predicted by Sentot. You know that name?”
“You mean Multatuli’s friend?”
“Yes. Let’s walk. Standing here is not healthy, especially for a smoker like me.”
Perhaps he thought I wasn’t following him; he moved on to another subject, but then turned back: “One day when you have read and studied more, you will understand better than you do now.”
“The Indies, Mr. Ter Haar,” I said, because I didn’t feel comfortable just listening and never contributing any words, “has been confronted with the rifles and cannons of the Dutch army for three centuries and has always been defeated.” All of a sudden I remembered the story of Untung Surapati, who had won. “Only a few times have we won, but then only momentarily.”
He laughed affably. “Naturally, because those Natives were still back in the Middle Ages, or perhaps even earlier—maybe you could say the Stone Age. But if the Indies Natives—just one percent—could master European science and learning—even less than one percent, one tenth of one percent—those changed human beings could start changing their society; then their whole people would change. Especially if they had some capital as well. The rifles and cannons of the army do not have the power to hold back change, Mr. Tollenaar. Even if their numbers are small, if one class rises in rebellion, even the smallest nation will rise up along with them. You remember the Eighty Years’ War, don’t you? What was Holland compared with Spain at that time? But once Holland had risen, even Spain had to admit defeat. Do you know about Mexico?”
“No.”
“The first conquered people to defeat their masters, the Spanish. What was the significance of the Mexican Natives compared to Spain then? But once a group rises up, once a nation rises up, its power cannot be dammed up any longer. It cannot, Mr. Minke.”
“You seem to believe the same thing will happen in the Indies too.”
“I’m not talking to you like this without reason.”
“Such a thing won’t make the Dutch nation happy, including yourself,” I said.
“I believe in the French Revolution, Mr. Tollenaar: Liberty, Equality, Fraternity—not just for ourselves, as is now the case on the European continent and in America, but for everyone, for all nations upon this earth. The true liberal point of view, Mr. Minke.”
“But France herself has colonies in Africa and Asia and the Americas.”
“That is France’s, and Europe’s, wrongdoing. But the shout of the revolution remains as grand as always. It was created from French blood, tears, and pain, and French lives.”
“You amaze me, Mr. Ter Haar.”
“I’m proud to be a liberal, Mr. Minke, a liberal who sees things through. Yes, others call this sort of view ‘extreme liberal.’ Not just disliking being oppressed, but also disliking oppressing. And, indeed, more than that: disliking oppression anywhere.”
It was far into the evening when I returned to my cabin. I noted down only the main points Ter Haar had discussed, including those I didn’t yet fully understand. Totally exhausted, I laid myself down on the upper berth. The others in my cabin had long been asleep. And I was absolutely sure that in a moment I too would be blessed w
ith a health-giving sleep.
When I awoke it was light. The day was visible through the porthole. Two small fishing boats with small sails were attacking a wave. The howl of the ship’s motor shook everything, including me. Washing my face in the basin, I went outside. And Ter Haar’s words were still there, swooping down, attacking me, pursuing me. How could a Native become president? Would he not just fall back into the ways of the kings, which he would know from legends, and which he could see for himself in the bupatis? And then would not others emerge who wanted to be like him? Then wars would rage continuously, just as in the classic history of our rulers. War without end—each person pitted against the other, all against all? What would come of it?
We have had hundreds of years of experience of war, Mr. Ter Haar. Defeat, always defeat. And according to Miriam—who knows whether it was her own opinion or just picked up in one of the alleys of this world—it is Minke, and Minke’s race that is perhaps the cleverest in the world at turning its back on reality, at drugging itself into sleep, at humoring itself with the fantasy that they have never been defeated.
That maiden had the hope, whether a just or an insane hope: Don’t be like your fellow countrymen, Minke. There must be one person who is aware, who can be their brain and their senses. Another wolf, that Miriam.
And the Philippines—salute! Defeated? Defeated in its fight against America? At least this mighty people had defeated Spain. It’s a pity, Mr. Ter Haar, but we are not Filipinos. I could not imagine it: The Indies without the Dutch! We must draw as deeply as possible on the well of European knowledge and learning. Just as Japan is doing. There is no honor without European science and learning. Mr. Ter Haar, you are truly a spirited coaxer, leading me astray.
With that last thought I went into the bathroom. But none of these things wanted to be shaken loose. They kept popping up, pursuing me and hopping up and down crazily everywhere. What torment such a little knowledge can wreak…
Private capital began to enter the Indies…yes, at the end of the Culture System. The minister of colonies, de Waal, legislated for the expropriation of land which was to be set aside for capital interests born of the corruption during the Culture System. And these interests wanted guarantees from the governor-general of the Netherlands Indies, not against the possible depredations of Native rebels—they were considered insignificant—but against the incursions of the English, who were biding their time and quietly keeping their eyes on the situation from Singapore and Semenanjung. What was the meaning of the London Treaty of 1824? It was just a piece of paper. The English could use Aceh as a bridge into the Indies. Aceh had to be brought totally under Dutch control, to dispel the fears of big capital.
And Aceh proved to be unlike Java. The Dutch fell into a trap. The Acehnese War raged, the most costly during the whole of colonial history. Ninety percent of the armed forces and seventy percent of the budget were siphoned off to win that war. It went on for almost a quarter of a century! The commitment shown by the Netherlands Indies government in subjugating Aceh acted as a guarantee for capital. More and more capital made its way to the Indies.…
In the dining room Ter Haar was already waiting. He went on with the stories from yesterday. He tried to explain the power of big capital in our times, the modern era. He never mentioned the Acehnese War. All this talk he came out with now was almost a repetition of what was in that anonymous pamphlet that Magda Peters had given me.
I asked him whether he had ever read an anonymous tract on this subject. He asked in turn, amazed: “Do you mean The Cesspool of Our Colonial Policies?”
“Exactly,” I said.
“So you have read it. Do you know that pamphlet is a banned publication?”
“I never knew there were banned publications in the Indies.”
“Be careful not to get caught with it, Mr. Minke. There was an earlier banned book too, Women of Jayakarta, but it is nothing compared to that pamphlet. If you have already read it you should be a member of the Radical Group. I’ll try to arrange it, if you agree. But keep away from the Indies Union.”
“What is this group?”
“Just a discussion group. You agree?”
What was wrong with being honored with membership? Discussions about the current situation, no doubt more interesting than school discussions. I agreed without thinking about it any further. Anyway, he knew more than I did.
He invited me to walk with him on deck. He was becoming more and more friendly and open. He went on with his story:
These days the big capital that came into the Indies was not active only in agriculture. Capitalists had their fingers in mining, transport, shipping, industry. The small Chinese tin miners on Bangka Island had been swept aside by big investors. The small sugar business of Java had been stamped out by the sugar factories. These small businessmen were now just coolies belonging to the new, powerful tuans.
“You know about de Waal’s Agrarian Laws?” I shook my head. Another new continent.
“And you must know that it was former Minister of Colonies Van de Putte who was the brilliant mind behind them, and the cleverest of all the devils of heaven and earth. A sailor, Mr. Minke, who came to the Indies and became a Tuan Besar Kuasa in charge of a sugar mill. It was he who drew up the sugar laws when he later became minister for the colonies. Now it has been revealed: All this time he was the owner of the biggest sugar-cane plantation in the Besuki-Bondowoso region. Him! While your people, Mr. Minke, who lived all around those plantations, had nothing! That is the sort of thing you will find out by joining our discussions.”
What a huge range of things this one wolf knew! Perhaps there wasn’t a grain of truth in any of it. But he did seem to know.
“Do you know the story of how the big farmers of Priangan were robbed of their most fertile lands?”
It had happened not long ago, he told me. The big farmers or rich villages had their own forests, rice lands, other fields and crops. They owned hundreds of buffalo, which roamed freely in the village or on private land. In order to seize those lands for the big capitalists, the government only had to issue land regulations. But in order to take the lands over without creating suspicion, Native agents were set to work. They put poison in the water holes where the buffalo drank. In one month ten thousand buffalo died. The villages stank of rotting carcasses. Disease was rampant. So it was announced: No cattle were allowed to roam freely in the forest lands or in the jungle. With army troops as their bully-men, and facing little resistance, the government forced the villages and big farmers to give up their lands. Now it was all planted with tea. Not a single relic remained of the great cattle farms. Destroyed, totally annihilated.
“You would never find out such thing without joining the Radical Group, Mr. Minke. Please, don’t look at me like that. Our group is only a vehicle to collect information about all the dark, illegal goings-on in the Indies. And then there is the gold rush around Pontianak. You surely wouldn’t have heard about that. Isn’t that right? Yes? And the secret societies of illegal immigrants from North Borneo.”
His words kept swooping down without a pause. I don’t know when he had the opportunity to wet his throat and lips. Perhaps he had finished five or seven cigarettes. You could even smell the cigarette smoke on my clothes. He talked and talked:
Capital wanted to turn all the Natives into its coolies. The Natives’ land would become its own land. So the capitalists resisted with all their might any moves for European education to be given to Natives. They were afraid the source of their power, cunning and evil, would be revealed. But capital needs more than just coolies; it also needs foremen who can at least read and write. So schools were set up to teach a few people to read and write. Then that too wasn’t sufficient; they needed some who could count. And those schools needed teachers, so a teachers’ school was set up. Then they felt the need for a few people who could speak a little Dutch. The primary schools that were operating were divided into grades I and II; students in first grade received a little tut
oring in Dutch. So, as things developed, capitalist interests in the Indies found they needed educated Natives for their own enterprises. And so on and so on. More advanced schooling, at high-school level, in special subjects, was instituted for Natives: agriculture, administration, medicine, law. It could not be avoided. It was necessary because of the growth and development of capitalism itself—including the medical school I myself was about to enter. And I will be given good money to stay with the government, to make government service attractive.
And the most powerful of all capital was sugar capital. It was on behalf of sugar that the liberals in the Netherlands, calling their policy the Ethical Policy because they wanted to pay the Netherlands’ debt to the Indies accrued in the days of the Culture System, waved the banners of education, emigration, and irrigation for the Indies, and prosperity for the Natives. But in reality it was done in the interests of sugar. Education: to produce the literates and numerates and technicians needed for the sugar industry. Emigration: to move more Javanese off Java, providing much-needed labor in Sumatra and opening up more land for canefields in Java. Irrigation: Water for the cane plantations, for sugar.
“And that’s not all, Mr. Tollenaar,” Ter Haar went on.
“One need gave birth to another, because that is the law of life. Willing or unwilling, capital will bring Natives more and more into contact with Western science and learning whether they want that to happen or not.
“And Mr. Tollenaar, you yourself want to study to be a doctor. Yes, there must be doctors, so that the plantations and factories aren’t disturbed with people falling ill.”
“If in the future I graduate as a doctor, it won’t be my intention—”
“Willing or unwilling, you will become a part of the cane-crusher machine—like the sieve, or a cog, or steam kettle.”
Child of All Nations Page 30
