The issues surrounding the biography genre canvassed in Chapter 1 included the connections between biography on the one hand and power and ideology on the other, and the question of the genre's legitimate boundaries. Problems of biography included claims that it was elitist, that it could obscure the wider picture by focussing on one individual, and that the impression of coherence given by narrative could cloak the true chaos and discontinuities of a subject's life. On Asian subjects (and indeed any subjects from a different culture), the main issues related to the need to bridge cultural gaps and the difficulties in doing so. We also examined the claimed advantages of biography in revealing connections between apparently disparate elements of history and in providing a new and perhaps unique perspective on well-known events. I attempt here to select some of these issues for further discussion in the context of Hamengku Buwono's life.

In the present case, perhaps “the text has constituted the life” and this work has created a power relationship with the subject, his family, or Indonesian historiography as a whole. But as noted previously, if power exists everywhere, this tells us little. Nevertheless, it is advisable to try to meet the assertion that the writing of Asian history by foreigners represents an attempt to exert hegemony in some way, imposing an alien discourse and set of prejudices on an exotic culture. Is the present study part of such an effort? Since this is the first study in English about this historical Indonesian figure, will it hold the field and present to the readers (such readers as it may have) a misleading, patronizing or distorted picture of the subject, uncorrected by more knowledgeable Indonesian (or other) commentators? How does a historian answer such charges?

The first part of a possible answer has to be a careful attention to the facts and sources, and it is here that the opinions of professional historians quoted in Chapter 1 become relevant. Historians are dealing with “something real”, with the central distinction “between historical statements based on evidence and those which are not”. This account of Hamengku Buwono's life is intended to rest firmly on the available sources, allowing them to lead where they may.

The proclamation of Indonesian Independence by Sukarno and Hatta on 17 August 1945 had immediate effects in Yogyakarta. That afternoon Ki Hajar Dewantoro led a small Taman Siswa group through the streets welcoming the proclamation. The next day Hamengku Buwono sent congratulatory telegrams to the two proclamators and to Dr Rajiman. The first two cables read “I as Jogjakarta-koo extend my congratulations on the proclamation of the Republic of Indonesia and the appointment of Your Excellencies as President/Vice President.” These were followed up with further joint telegrams with the Pakualam, in virtually identical terms. The need for the joint cables suggests some initial lack of coordination.

In early August, with Japanese concurrence, the nationalists had formed a new committee to prepare for the transfer of government powers, called the Committee for the Preparation of Indonesian Independence (Panitya Persiapan Kemerdekaan Indonesia [PPKI]), with membership based on — but smaller than — the BPUPKI. After the proclamation, the committee quickly approved the draft constitution and appointed Sukarno and Hatta as President and Vice President.

The two Yogyakarta leaders sent a congratulatory cable to the Committee, of which Hamengku Buwono's brother Puruboyo was a member. It may seem incongruous now that they also dispatched messages of thanks to Japanese authorities in Jakarta, but at the time this must have seemed a prudent course of action. Hamengku Buwono's statement welcoming the Proclamation contained — for the last time — the ritual thanks to the Japanese which his messages of the past three years had contained. Headed “Let us appropriately repay Dai Nippon's kindness”, the statement pointed out that a strong desire for independence was insufficient in itself and that Indonesia needed to build up the capability to retain independence, bearing in mind that this was “an age of crisis”. Community groups should submerge their narrow interests to create “a comprehensive and strong unity.” Appeals for unity at this early stage only illustrated the fears of disunity which already existed and foreshadowed the difficulty of the task which lay ahead.

The Preparatory Committee confirmed that Java would remain divided into three provinces, but that the kooti s would be separate. The new Department of Home Affairs would manage the public service, the police, land and the principalities. By implication, this placed the principalities under the first Minister of Home Affairs.

Dorojatun was born on 12 April 1912 in Yogyakarta. His father was Prince Haryo Puruboyo, a son of the reigning Sultan, and his mother was Raden Ayu Kustilah, who received the title of Kangjeng Raden Ayu Adipati Anom in 1915. She was the daughter of Prince Mangkubumi, who was a brother of, and an influential adviser to, the Sultan, Hamengku Buwono VII. The Sultan paid a formal visit to congratulate Puruboyo, and paid him a special allowance in honour of the event.

Dorojatun's mother was Puruboyo's official wife, and they had been married for four years. When her husband unexpectedly became next in line to become Sultan not long after Dorojatun's birth, she had good prospects of becoming permaisuri (queen) in due course. But at the time this was in the future. Hamengku Buwono VII, although already in his seventies, seemed perfectly healthy and might live some years yet.

Prince Puruboyo became Sultan by accident. He was the fourth son of the monarch, but two of his elder brothers died relatively young and one was mentally unfit. One of the first two, Hamengkunagoro, had lived long enough to marry and be named crown prince, but he died in 1913 at the age of 35 before he could become Sultan. Puruboyo consequently became crown prince in his turn on 21 July 1914, when Dorojatun was two years old. From this time on, as the first and only son born to Puruboyo and his official wife, he was regarded as a likely future Sultan. His four elder brothers were not expected to succeed to the throne because their mothers were minor wives of Prince Puruboyo.

When an important ruler is born in Java, a sign from heaven is usually expected, such as lightning, earthquakes, or volcanic eruptions. But the senior retainers of the palace admitted in later years that no extraordinary events accompanied Dorojatun's birth. This did not prevent stories emerging much later that such omens had occurred, especially from those who believed that Hamengku Buwono IX had something of the Ratu Adil (Just King) about him.

He was known formally as Gusti Raden Mas Dorojatun, although he carried the Dutch-style nickname of Henkie in his early years, after the husband of the reigning Dutch Queen Wilhelmina. Javanese princes often bore European nicknames at the time.

On 18 October 1939, Dorojatun's father and other family members met him on arrival in Batavia. Hamengku Buwono IX later recalled that an uncle had greeted him in high Javanese when he left the ship and that he knew at once that his father had named him as the successor, because his uncles had previously addressed him in low Javanese (ngoko).

During the journey home to Yogyakarta, Hamengku Buwono VIII, already in rather poor health, fell ill on the train, and died in hospital shortly after reaching Yogyakarta. In Batavia he had already handed to Dorojatun the sacred kris Kyai Joko Piturun, an important heirloom of the Yogyakarta kraton, thereby reaffirming that Dorojatun was his chosen successor. Hamengku Buwono VIII's failure to take another principal wife after his divorce from Dorojatun's mother was taken in Yogyakarta to indicate his intention that Dorojatun should be the successor. The naming of a crown prince was the prerogative of the reigning Sultan in consultation with the Dutch authorities, and Hamengku Buwono VIII had never taken a decision on the point.

Dorojatun must have been unfamiliar even to most of his relatives. His father had sent him away while still a teenager in 1930, and apart from contacts with family members during rare visits to the Netherlands, and the occasional letter, few of which survive, the family would have known little about his early manhood.

Nevertheless, it appeared likely that Dorojatun would become the next Sultan of Yogyakarta; so before examining the process of his accession, it will be useful to explore the nature, historical background, and ideology of his father's legacy, as it stood in 1940 and thereafter.

YOGYAKARTA — ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL SITUATION

The kingdom comprised five regencies and one city covering 3,168 square kilometres, compared with 132,187 square kilometres for the whole of Java. As this comparison indicates, the significance of the tiny principality, and indeed of the other principalities, derived far more from their role as exemplars of traditional Javanese culture, than from any direct political power over the population of Central or East Java as a whole. Despite the lack of political power, however, they remained important across the Javanese cultural sphere as influences on manners and social interaction, language, fashion, art and even architecture.

A FINE BALANCE: THE PROFESSIONAL LIFE OF SULTAN HAMENGKU BUWONO IX

This book is a political biography of Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX (1912– 88), one of Indonesia's most respected founding fathers. Although revered and admired at home and abroad, this is his first biography in English. This is largely because the Sultan was an intensely private person who meticulously guarded his public persona, and information about his life is not readily accessible. In 1971, although he was one of Indonesia's bestknown public figures, the Indonesian daily Kompas described him thus:

Writing the biography of such a figure — a royal, an active member of the Suharto and Sukarno administrations, and ruler of his own principality — yet a person who revealed little of himself on the public record, presents any scholar, Indonesian or foreigner, with major challenges. It is hardly surprising, then, that a full critical examination of the Sultan's life has been long in coming. As his first and final chapters show, Dr Monfries has approached the Sultan's biography in the full knowledge of these challenges.

Dr Monfries brings to this enterprise an unusual, even unique, set of skills and experience. He graduated from The Australian National University in 1968 with an honours degree in Southeast Asian Studies, specializing in Indonesia and Indonesian language. In late 1967, he applied for entry to the Australian diplomatic service (the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade) and was accepted in 1968. He had a long and distinguished career with postings in Indonesia, as Counsellor in the Australian Embassy in the Netherlands, and as Australian Commissioner to Brunei. His first trip to Indonesia was in late 1967 when, as a newly graduated student, he witnessed the poverty and desperate condition of post-Sukarno Indonesia and the shock of a population which had experienced mass killings on a scale beyond comprehension.

He was posted to Indonesia as a diplomat between 1969 and 1971 and observed the early years of Suharto's New Order government, a vital period of transition towards economic development, increasing military influence, and enforced political stability.

INTRODUCTION

Hamengku Buwono IX, although so prominent in Indonesian politics for so long, has not yet attracted a full-length study in English. He never had a prominent role in Indonesian foreign policy, except in foreign economic policy in the 1960s. Hamengku Buwono lacked the charisma and oratory of Sukarno, the engaging style of Malik, the administrative tenacity of Hatta, the intellectuality of Syahrir, or the direct command of troops of Nasution. Of the figures who came to notice in the Revolution, however, only Malik had a longer career; but although Malik left no enduring political legacy, Hamengku Buwono bequeathed a thriving principality to his son and successor. When the Republican leaders could no longer bear the increasing dangers of Jakarta in 1945, they were constrained to move to Yogyakarta at the Sultan's invitation. When the Dutch had captured those leaders in 1948, the Sultan was able effectively to defy the invaders. When Sukarno's Guided Democracy failed, the untried General Suharto called on the Sultan to guide the country's economy. When the political leadership faltered, the country turned to the quiet, unassuming Sultan. One image in Indonesian writing about him is that of the goalkeeper, who saves the side when all else fails. This of course, like many other assertions about him, is an oversimplification and has to be examined critically.

But there is also something elusive about Hamengku Buwono. As I remark in Chapter 7, he recalls A.J.P. Taylor's description of Lord Halifax — “He was always at the centre of events yet managed somehow to leave the impression that he was not connected with them.” Historical accounts often mention the Sultan's presence at meetings or events without specifying exactly what his role was. Foreign accounts (e.g., the Australian official records) refer occasionally to meetings with him but rarely give details of the conversations. When the Dutch captured Yogyakarta in 1948, records of nine republican cabinet meetings fell into their hands. In only one of them is there any comment or statement by Hamengku Buwono, who was admittedly a junior minister of state at the time. Few of his public speeches or other records reveal the real man behind the myth.

After a remarkably brief campaign during February to March 1942, the Japanese occupied virtually all of modern-day Indonesia. The biggest shock for the Allies had been the fall of the “impregnable fortress” of Singapore in mid-February 1942. From that point on, the Dutch knew that Java was gravely threatened and that they could lose their entire colony. Indeed, some already thought that their situation was hopeless. They had already lost most of their naval forces in the Java Sea action.

Hamengku Buwono, in what seems to have been his first ever radio address to his subjects, admitted the seriousness of the situation “although it is in no sense hopeless”. He advised the people of Yogyakarta to ignore stories that the enemy could not possibly reach Java, and called for a “realistic” attitude. The people should take appropriate security measures and follow the instructions of relevant official agencies, such as the Red Cross. He added that he had no wish to spread alarm, but needed to point out the gravity of the situation.

In their feverish preparations to defend Java, the Dutch colonial leaders quickly concluded that comprehensive defence of the island was impossible with the forces at their disposal. The naval commander, Admiral Helfrich, contended that the main naval base, Surabaya, above all should be held, but the army commanders favoured West Java for the main troop concentration. Eventually the Governor General decided on 22 February to concentrate his forces in both East and West Java, and that “only Central Java should be largely denuded of forces, although that was also regarded as risky because of possible unrest in the princely states”. The relevant division Commander, Major General Cox, protested “because of the unfortunate effect on the Javanese princes and the people … this means no less than a useless end to the so fruitful three hundred years of Netherlands Government”.

The Java princes were probably not informed of Dutch strategic planning, but the absence of Dutch defenders around Yogyakarta must have been evident to everyone. Therefore, Hamengku Buwono was aware that the Dutch had abandoned Yogyakarta to the Japanese; and General Cox may well have been right in his assessment of the effect on the attitude of this particular Javanese prince.

After the political/economic statement of April 1966, Hamengku Buwono's standing was as high as it had ever been. His humiliation at the hands of Sukarno in 1952 was a distant memory and the discrediting of Sukarno's economic mismanagement looked like a belated vindication of Sukarno's long-standing critics. Hamengku Buwono occupied important posts in the New Order for the next twelve years, including the vice presidency from 1973 to 1977, but became, surprisingly, less and less prominent and influential. His public statements became fewer, Suharto consulted him less, and he seemed increasingly isolated from the decision-making process. The more senior his position became, the more obscure his role seemed to be. The probable reasons for this are outlined inter alia in this chapter.

The MPRS session in June 1966 reconfirmed the March Letter of Instruction (Supersemar), removed Sukarno's title of President for Life, rejected Sukarno's first attempt to explain his role in the 30 September Affair and demanded further information, reconfirmed Suharto's ban on the PKI, and approved the ending of Confrontation against Malaysia.

The results of the session varied for each leading personality. Suharto's influence had clearly increased as Sukarno was cut down to size. Some observers thought, accurately as it turned out, that the popular Nasution had been sidelined, despite his elevation to the constitutionally important MPRS chairmanship. Malik kept in the background, but, having just negotiated the Bangkok agreement, his star remained bright. For Hamengku Buwono, the results were equivocal. Complaints were heard of a lack of dynamism, even accompanied by rumours that he might be removed in the next cabinet reshuffle. The Australian Embassy reported, “The Sultan has fared less well [than Malik]. His personal status is still untouched, but there is obvious ill-ease [sic] at his lack of drive.” Such comments were never made public but were beginning to be heard in private.

Meanwhile, his reputation based on his conduct during the Revolution, his general air of being above politics, and his steady and sober image somehow made him almost unassailable in public discourse. The process seems to have been a gradual one, but by the late 1960s it became unimaginable that anyone could say or write in public anything critical of him.

In the early 1950s, Hamengku Buwono told a foreign observer that “there are dangerous and troubled times ahead” because an alliance was forming between Sukarno and the PKI. The 1950s was a decade of disappointment for Hamengku Buwono, as his PSI allies failed badly in the 1955 elections, left-wing forces — especially the PKI — gathered strength, and Sukarno moved towards more repressive policies, culminating in the inception of Guided Democracy in 1959.

Perhaps one minor consolation had been the performance in the 1955 election of the Gerinda party, the political successor to the PKN of the 1930s, which was the third-strongest party at the polls in the Yogyakarta Special Region. Hamengku Buwono had not endorsed it, but its identification with the kraton presented some kind of confirmation of the continued popular appeal of the Javanese nobility, including Hamengku Buwono himself. Although he paid more attention to the Yogyakarta principality, he remained Jakarta based and seems to have busied himself mainly with his many non-political activities such as his business interests, especially tourism, the scouting movement and sports administration.

In this period, he remained on the political sidelines, but despite the setback in 1952, some were still prepared to predict a national political future for him. As liberal democracy failed and regional revolts erupted, some of those who turned against Sukarno's leadership looked to the more moderate Sultan, whose name was usually coupled with that of Hatta as possible saviours of an increasingly problem-ridden nation. For reasons which have never been entirely clear, Hamengku Buwono was one Javanese leader who generated widespread trust in regions outside Java. His moderate reasonable image was part of the explanation; the residual respect in many areas in Sumatra, Bali and East Indonesia for feudal rulers may be another part. Within Java of course, Hamengku Buwono commanded an enormous amount of public faith and even reverence.

Although in the 1950s Hamengku Buwono said little in public, it was evident that he disapproved of many of Sukarno's policies and actions. In private, he was particularly critical of Sukarno's relationship with the PKI and fearful of the possible consequences. Nevertheless, his attitude to the PKI was pragmatic, and at least locally in Yogyakarta itself he managed to establish a reasonable modus vivendi with them.

On 19 December 1948, Dutch troops attacked and occupied Yogyakarta, capturing virtually the entire Republican leadership, including Sukarno, Hatta, Syahrir, and many others. The captives were quickly exiled to various locations, and the three mentioned above ended up on Bangka island. After the attack, Syafruddin Prawiranegara led a defiant Emergency Government from his base in Sumatra. For the time being, Sultan Hamengku Buwono and the Pakualam were left alone in their palaces.

As soon as the attack became known, an urgent cabinet meeting considered the options. Because many ministers were out of Yogyakarta, the numbers attending were small. Prime Minister Hatta was in Kaliurang, where, although recovering from a minor illness, he had been conducting talks with the UN Committee of Good Offices representatives, especially the Australian representative Critchley, and Hamengku Buwono, who was also slightly ill, volunteered to fetch him. At this stage Sukarno was still assuming that he and Hatta should take to the hills and try to evade capture.

Accompanied by Sutan Syahrir, Hamengku Buwono stopped at the Kepatihan building to tell Honggowongso to prepare a refuge for the Central Government in the Gunung Kidul area, as previously planned. They drove towards Kaliurang but encountered Hatta in Pakem Street (now Jalan Kaliurang) in the city, which was already under heavy Dutch bombardment, after which they returned to the presidential palace at about 11 a.m. By the time they had returned, the cabinet meeting had apparently already concluded.

Col Simatupang had counselled the leadership to retreat to Wonosari, but Sukarno changed his mind and decided to allow himself to be captured by the Dutch. One reason for this was that the leaders would need to be guarded by at least one battalion of soldiers, and the TNI could not spare so many. If the leaders stayed in Yogyakarta, they could also remain in contact with the GOC representatives as long as possible. Another rationale was that it would be much easier for the Dutch to assassinate the Republican leaders in some remote region, than if they were captured in the centre of the capital before many witnesses.

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

1. • Presidential candidates in Indonesia have to be nominated by a political party (or combination of parties) that have either won 20% of the national vote in the parliamentary elections or control 25% of the seats in the House of Representatives (DPR). Some parties have already made clear choices.

2. • An analysis of candidate choice must however take into consideration the steady alienation of the majority of the population from existing political processes and actors.

3. •Voter abstention (golput) has steadily increased for both national and local elections since the 1999 elections. This reflects the alienation of the masses from the system and is reinforced by declining support for all of the political parties. The most popular party in the polls, the PDIP, is scoring only 20% and all other parties are scoring 12% and below.

4. •It is increasingly possible that the 2014 elections will take the form of a contest between two modes of political campaigning: an appeal to the charisma of power (pejabatism), and the deliberate rejection of this previous mode.

INTRODUCTION

The usual path to become a presidential candidate in Indonesia is to be nominated by a political party or combination of parties that have either won 20% of the national vote in the parliamentary elections or control 25% of the seats in the House of Representatives (DPR). Some parties already have made clear choices: Golkar (Party of Functional Groups) has nominated ex-Suharto loyalist and tycoon Aburizal Bakrie (although former vice-president Yusuf Kalla still lurks in the wings as a possi-ble challenger); Gerindra (Great Indonesia Movement Party) decided on ex-Suharto general and semi-tycoon Prabowo Subianto; Hanura (People's Conscience Party) nominated ex-Suharto general Wiranto; and Nasdem (National Democrat Party) chose ex-Suharto loyalist and tycoon Surya Palo. The lead party in the ruling coalition, the Democrat Party (PD), has not yet decided on its candidate although it has now moved to bring former General Pramono Edhie Wibowo, into the leadership.

The party that does have a chance of winning 20% of the popular vote is the PDIP (Indonesian Democratic Party-Struggle), but it has also yet to determine a candidate. In the past, it has nominated Megawati Sukarnoputri. There is also a possibility that the PDIP could nominate the current governor of Jakarta, the popular Joko Widodo.

The Institute of Southeast Asian Studies (ISEAS) launched its electronic publication ISEAS Perspective in mid-2012.

The main function of this new product is to act as a platform for short and succinct articles analysing current events in the region, and written by researchers affiliated to ISEAS. The publication's production process has been structured for speed and for maximal distribution by electronic means.

Kept between 2000 and 3000 words, this publication format has since then proven to be a success. The feedback from members of the public has been very encouraging, as has the huge number of contributions sent in by ISEAS researchers. For subjects where in-house expertise is lacking, ISEAS invites guest writers to fill the gap.

During its first year in existence, 58 internally reviewed issues were produced. These were distributed in steady fashion by email to addresses registered with the Institute. Needless to say, the mailing list for this publication has been growing steadily. Those interested to get onto it should register by writing to iseas_perspective@iseas.edu.sg.

All past and present issues of ISEAS Perspective can be downloaded from our website for free [www.iseas.edu.sg], and will remain so for the foreseeable future. However, ISEAS has deemed it a worthy public service to have selected articles from that first year published in a single printed volume at cost price.

This is the book that you now hold in your hand.

Articles herein were chosen according to strict criteria such as analytical strength; continued salience of the subject discussed; referential potential; literary quality in general; et cetera.

ISEAS intends to print such annual selections in the coming years. We are certain that you, the reader, will find them informative and stimulating.