God knows what else he went on to say. A lot, such a great lot. All that I heard which entered my consciousness was: “Majapahit, an empire no less well organized than the Roman Empire . . . the biggest maritime power in the world during that time . . . destroyed from within . . . it collapsed spiritually, philosophically, socially, economically, and organizationally. . . . Islam could not save the Javanese from their decline. Even up until today. Their decline made them turn their backs on reality . . . they turned to dreams, predictions, magic formulas, mantras, all the heritage of Tantrayana. . . . Meneer Pangemanann, when the Company began gobbling up Java, region after region, using military tactics unknown in Native military history, what was happening in the centers of Javanese life, in the courts of the raja? Babad Tanah Jawa. That is the answer. It’s a pity you don’t read Javanese. This is the book of the Javanese that tells of their downfall, step by step, up until today, though without understanding that they did not suffer defeat only in the matter of losing control over territory but also in the spiritual, philosophical, social, economic, and organizational fields. Since the fall of Majapahit this people have not left behind anything of value to humanity, or to themselves.”
“But what about the Javanese today?”
“That’s what I have been talking about. We are heading toward the deepest point in their decline since the fall of Majapahit in 1478. There is nothing else to be told about the Javanese since then, except their decline which is leading them toward extinction.”
“But aren’t the overseas papers talking about the rising up of the Indies bourgeoisie?”
“The rising up of the bourgeoisie? Do you mean like in the early years of the French Revolution?”
“No, you can’t equate them like that. The European bourgeoisie awakened and developed Europe, and then started to put pressure on the aristocracy, and then replaced them as rulers. The Javanese bourgeoisie did not develop anything, or do very much of anything else either. They are just beginning to open their eyes. The European press is calling that an ‘awakening.’ Ah, no, they have not yet awakened. Perhaps you agree with my assessment?”
“The decline of the Javanese has gone too far, Meneer. The rising up of the bourgeoisie should occur in Aceh or Bali, where the people have preserved their integrity, not in Java. Except that the Acehnese and Balinese bourgeoisie are far too weak. When you see how far the Javanese have fallen, from plus to minus, you will realize how any awakening in Java should have taken place in the wake of the resistance of the Balinese and Acehnese. Perhaps the Javacentric policies of the Dutch are the reason the awakening is taking place in Java, if you can really call it an awakening.”
“Do you think we can call it an awakening?”
“No, I don’t believe that is happening yet. The bourgeoisie in Java are still too weak. They haven’t achieved anything worthwhile yet.”
“What are your views on the Sarekat Islam?” I asked.
“Well, if you are referring to how big it has grown, I don’t think that means anything. I’m sorry, perhaps that’s a rather hasty opinion. I think that these days, Meneer Pangemanann, it is not enough to look at the size of an organization but what kind of leadership it has and where that leadership is leading it. How do you evaluate its leadership, Meneer?”
His question put me to shame. It would have been worse if I had to answer it. I, for whom these matters were my profession, had not given these two matters any thought at all. I answered in all honesty that I had not yet thought about these issues. Yet it was the answers to these questions that I was looking for in coming to grips with my new tasks.
I went straight back to my office without going home first. Nicolaas Knor was the only one about as he lived in the palace complex. He ran hither and thither ordering food and drink for me from his own household.
I was able to finish a draft working paper that evening with recommendations that information be sought as soon as possible about the inner workings of the Sarekat. In particular the quality of its leadership and how they worked, the situation regarding its Arab members and a report on their general outlook.
And I knew that the next morning while I was bathing, express orders would be sent via the latest technology throughout Java. Exactly how and to whom, I didn’t know. And anyway, that was none of my business. I did not need nor was I obliged to know.
As I walked to the office the next day I could not get rid of the great admiration I had for the foresight of the Hindus when they divided humankind into castes: brahman, ksatria, waisya, and sudra. It was no coincidence the way these castes were ordered either. It was true indeed that it was the brahmans, the priests and holy men who first ruled over mankind; then they were overthrown and replaced by the ksatria, the knights and soldiers. The French Revolution was a classic example of how the ksatria were then overthrown and replaced by the waisya, the merchants and craftsmen.
And the waisya in Java? Perhaps Meneer L— looked at the problem of the Sarekat using these Hindu castes, and saw that the merchants and craftsmen were too weak and small a group to be conscious of themselves as a caste. Be that as it may, I was scampering hither and thither looking for answers. If you could analyze the situation of the waisya of Java the way Meneer L— was doing, then everything would be much easier. You wouldn’t have to take into account things like the stage of development they were at, the different ways they started to emerge, and the particular manner in which they expressed themselves. The waisya of Java, weak and unconscious of their own position, were already a threat. And I still could not discover the secret of their strength. Who knew what the secret was? Certainly Haji Samadi had no idea.
I submitted a new proposal, which in essence meant that I would look to Raden Mas Minke to answer this question.
Just on two weeks had passed, during which I was under constant pressure from my boss, and he from the governor-general, when an answer arrived from Ambon. A package of papers, tightly bound and sealed with red wax in ten places, arrived on my desk. I knew for certain this was from Raden Mas Minke. I had no idea how it was obtained.
I locked the door from inside. The windows too. I opened up the parcel. The contents—a pile of notebooks.
Locked in my room like this, I could ignore Meneer Gr— when he knocked on the door wanting to talk once again about the situation of the Chinese. And I was liberated too from Monsieur R—, who could do nothing but show how unnerved he was by the pressure from the governor-general.
There were 123 notebooks. They were all full of Minke’s terrible scribble and there were many words and phrases scratched out and replaced. The notebooks were tied together in separate bundles. They were all written in Dutch. The first bundle contained a story that had already been published in Malay, entitled Nyai Permana. I put that bundle aside. The second bundle was entitled This Earth of Mankind, the third Child of All Nations, the fourth Footsteps.
Perhaps one day I will write about these manuscripts. In short, however, I can say that after reading through them quickly over three days, I came to realize that the waisya caste and its appearance on the scene in Java was not as simple as Meneer L— thought. There were many aspects to its emergence and it faced many different problems, all interconnected and intertwined, sometimes disguised, sometimes clear to all. Yet I still did not find any definite answer to my problem.
Sometime during those three days while I was reading the notebooks, I received news through the chief housekeeper, Nicolaas Knor, that a Javanese who had been exiled to Ambon had been robbed. I did not inquire any further.
“Perhaps you have obtained enough material to be able to answer our questions now, Meneer Pangemanann. Come, let’s go to Room A.”
Inside the room there sat six men. Three of them were unknown to me. Monsieur R— introduced them to me as three colleagues whose names I did not need to know. They were all Pure-Blood Europeans.
With the minimum of formalities, Monsieur R— invited the three new men to speak, one after the other. They all spoke abo
ut the inner workings of the Sarekat, including the attitude of the members of Arab descent. Meneer Gr— spoke about the awakening of the Chinese. Then Monsieur R— asked that I speak about the awakening of the Javanese bourgeoisie. And so I told them as much as I understood.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said Monsieur R—, after I finished speaking. “We have information concerning three groups of people, the Chinese, Arabs, and Natives. The government does not wish to implement reforms to the system of government. And indeed there are no reasons to do so.”
I do not dare put down on paper what were the results of the discussion in Room A. At the very least, I can say that the purpose behind Meneer Gr—’s hints and comments about the 1740 incident in Betawi were becoming clearer. I could sense that a project was being formulated. And I joined in of my own free will. The project was named—violence, a new-style Saint Bartholomew’s Day. I was to write up and make the final formulations of all the decisions from that meeting. And it had to be finished that day.
After this, Monsieur R— seemed to be becoming even more nervous. The whole office was put in a spin, like a propeller. Attendants were being reprimanded left, right, and center. Nicolaas Knor was running about, back and forth, doing I don’t know what. People I had never seen before came and went. This lasted three days.
Orders arrived. I was to go to the Harmoni Club, and to take my first stride up the front steps at exactly nine o’clock in the morning.
At nine in the morning I saw Cor Oosterhof standing on one of the front steps. I went inside and he followed me without saying a word. I sat down and ordered lime juice. When my drink arrived, Cor Oosterhof approached me.
“May I join you, Meneer?”
I nodded. He ordered liquor. While observing people arriving or playing cards, he said: “I am here to find out what has to be done. You know, about it all.” He didn’t state his name, nor his position, nor where he came from, nor on whose orders he was sent to meet me.
I recognized his face, his name too, from an opium smuggling case fifteen years before. He was a young man of twenty years then. He had matured now, I don’t know in what field. I did know that I had come across him several more times over the next fifteen years in various cases.
I have said that he was involved in an opium smuggling case, which means, whether he realized it or not, that he was also involved with the Chinese Tong terror gangs. I don’t know how Cor got along after the Tong were disbanded as a result of Sun Yat-sen’s efforts. One thing was for certain, he would have a lot of connections among the Chinese and would know a lot about what was happening in the Chinese community.
“You still have many friends amongst the Chinese, Meneer?” I asked.
“In every corner of Java, Meneer.”
“Excellent,” I said in reply. “What is it that you want me to tell you about, then? Something to do with the Chinese?”
“You know best, Meneer,” he said.
Cor Oosterhof was far easier to get along with, far, far easier, than Robert Suurhof. He showed no signs of arrogance. Before he drank his liquor, he bothered to nod to me and his eyes and mouth invited me to join him. He was not at all an awkward or formal person. Dealing with him was like dealing with an old friend, undisturbed by memories of any past unpleasantness.
To make sure that everything would go smoothly, I explained the ABCs of the problem. I told him about the awakening of the Japanese people, which was later followed by the awakening of the Chinese. Both these developments had a great impact on an educated Native named Raden Mas Minke. Making things even worse, these two developments to our north influenced a layer of people among the Chinese in the Indies. The impact on both the Chinese and on Minke pushed both into forming organizations. And every non-European organization, every organization not dedicated to European interests, will in the end, without exception, develop in such a way that it ends up challenging Europe. By Europe I mean the government of the Netherlands Indies. Such organizations as these will eventually subvert the loyalty of the government’s subjects.
I gave him the example of the Hwee Koan Chinese school, whose students ended up openly turning their backs on and ignoring the government and were more loyal to China. And it was the same with those people who had become members of the Sarekat Islam.
“Do you know about the Sarekat Islam?”
“Of course, Meneer.”
“Excellent.”
“But there is a big difference between the Chinese and Islam, Meneer.”
“The difference is only in appearance, Meneer; the key thing is that they are both organized. Understand?”
He nodded, and once again listened earnestly.
I explained to him that Minke was an admirer of both the Japanese and Chinese. He had taught his members how to use the boycott after he saw how this weapon of the weak had been able to bankrupt the big European merchants of Surabaya. Sooner or later the Sarekat would use the boycott against the government. Everywhere Sarekat members were enthusiastically talking about boycotts. The government had exiled Minke. But the Sarekat did not die just because it had lost its leader. Several of the leaders of the Chinese organizations had been deported also, but still their organizations did not die. Both of them continued to grow. The government cannot take action against these organizations. Organizations have a different status in some matters compared to individuals. The government has power over individuals but not over these abstract entities.
“Do you follow me?”
“Continue, Meneer.”
“Raden Mas Minke was exiled. The Sarekat did not die, and now they have found a new educated Native who is being prepared to replace Minke. His name is Mas Tjokro, an employee of the Surabaya Borsumij. If Mas Tjokro is arrested and exiled, all that will happen is that a new educated Native will appear and so it will go on.”
“Yes, I understand, Meneer.”
“And this year, 1912,” I continued, “perhaps you already know, Meneer? Up there in China they have formed a political party, called the Kuomintang. It means the National People’s Party. Do you know, Meneer, what a political party is?”
Cor Oosterhof was silent.
“An organization formed in order to build power. Now that they have formed a party in China, sooner or later we will have them here too, set up either by the Chinese or the Natives, who knows? The emergence of a political party means the emergence of a new challenge to the government, which until now remains the sole wielder of power.”
“But there are the police and army to sweep them away!”
“If we had war, then that is what would happen. But there very well might not be a war. And it could even turn out that the police and soldiers join the new party as well. Who knows how the chicken will turn out before it is hatched from the shell? And because there has never been a political party in the Indies, there are no laws covering their activities.”
“So what are your orders?” he asked politely and cautiously.
“Oh, yes, I forgot that you are awaiting orders. Do you know Robert Suurhof?”
“I only know of him, Meneer. They say he’s under medical care at the moment.”
In fact, I was unsure about going on and giving him orders. I ordered whiskey. Two slugs were still not enough to give me the courage to give him his orders.
“You seem anxious, Meneer,” said Cor Oosterhof. “Perhaps you should have a few more.”
I drank down three more. Cor himself didn’t need any.
“There are two things we must achieve,” I said then. “First, the exaggerated esteem in which the Sarekat is held internationally must die away. We want people to realize that as far as the Indies is concerned the Sarekat is nothing. There will be no point in the Sarekat hoping for foreign support anymore, dreaming about foreign intervention in the Indies. Do you know what intervention is?”
Cor shook his head and I explained it to him. And as I spoke I could see in my mind’s eye those Turkish youths from Istanbul who claimed they were spokesmen for Pan
Islamism.
“No one in the Indies should have grounds for thinking that the Native bourgeoisie are awakening.” I did not know if Cor was able to follow what I was saying. “Second, we must make the Chinese once again loyal to the government. We must be even more successful than in 1740. Cor, you must set one against the other, Chinese against Native. Don’t hold back. Use all your cunning. Do not leave behind any evidence that could lead to a court case.”
I watched Cor Oosterhof shake his head. It would not be possible to set them against each other. The Chinese had no hatred for the Natives. They were respected by the Natives because of their abilities. They were admired because of their toughness. The only enmity that might arise was from those Natives who did not feel capable of competing with the Chinese in commerce and who were not able to save in the same slow, steady way. He talked and spoke, argued and refuted.
“Those are my orders,” I said to him angrily.
“If those are the kind of orders you have for me, then I may as well tell you now that I can’t carry them out!”
“You have heard what I have had to say. So from this moment on, wherever you go, although you will never see them, the barrels of pistols will be watching over you. Understand?” I threatened him.
“I understand.”
“What’s the point in saying you’re ready to accept orders, then when you hear them all you can say is that you can’t carry them out?”
“I never thought they would be on such a scale as this.”