INTRODUCTION

In recent years, Johor's economic growth has been above the national average. In fact, the state's broad-based economy is the third largest contributor to Malaysia's gross domestic product (GDP) across agriculture, manufacturing and services (Maslynnawati, Weerasena, and Fawzi 2017).

However, many activities within these sectors are synonymous with high volumes of foreign workers. As these activities have grown, so too have the number of foreign workers. In turn, Malaysians have increasingly had to share facilities, such as public spaces, and services, such as public transportation, with this new and growing population. In certain towns in Johor, such as Muar, which has a booming furniture sector, and Pengerang, which is home to a new integrated petroleum complex, parks and other shared spaces are crowded with foreign workers over the weekends. This creates some uneasiness among local communities (Benjamin 2018; Soo 2018).

Moreover, in the recent review of the 11th Malaysia Plan, dependency on lowskilled foreign workers was highlighted as a crucial issue impeding human capital development. Specifically, the overdependence on low-skilled foreign labour serves as a disincentive for more capital-intensive operations—resulting in many Malaysian industries remaining at the lower end of the value chain (Ministry of Economic Affairs 2018).

Hence, the 11th Malaysia Plan set a cap on foreign workers of 15 per cent of the total workforce or not more than 2.3 million people by the year 2020. In addition, a greater focus was placed on managing and screening the entry of foreign workers through the formulation of a comprehensive immigration and employment policy.

However, it is important to consider whether the cap of 15 per cent of employment of foreign workers is a sensible target to begin with. This is because Malaysia records 1,758,328 active Temporary Employment Visit Pass (PLKS) holders (Ministry of Home Affairs 2018a), which constitutes 11.5 per cent of the total workforce.3 Since the number of documented foreign workers is less than 2.3 million and the policy implies that the number of foreign workers exceeds 2.3 million; this indicates some official acknowledgement of the prevalence of undocumented workers. However, there is no credible official estimate of the number of undocumented workers, either in Malaysia or in Johor.

INTRODUCTION

Forest City, the multimillion dollar mixed development project rising out of four artificial islands in the Tebrau Straits off the southwestern coast of Johor appears by most accounts to be a bundle of contradictions. While potentially injecting millions of ringgit into, and spurring great infrastructural development in, the surrounding areas, it has jarred the local property market. New foreign exchange regulations in China add further questions to its financial viability.

While Forest City is portrayed as a role model for future cities, especially in its application of green technology and environmental sustainability, the land reclamation that underpins its existence is doing serious damage to local seagrass, mangroves and fishery habitats. Claims that the project has the potential to create thousands of jobs for the local population have been countered by those who question the wisdom of allowing such a huge influx of foreigners, both as contract workers and as residents, as well as its implications for the racial status quo.

To the general public, the saga of Forest City began in early 2014 when sand barges seemed to appear overnight to begin round-the-clock reclamation work without public notice or signage on the project. Those caught unaware included the Singapore government. It eventually lodged an official complaint with the Federal government, and Malaysia's Department of the Environment issued a stop-work order. The Detailed Environmental Impact Assessment (DEIA) process revealed that some local regulations had been sidestepped. While most local leaders had already known about the project in 2013, the information and RM3 million in compensation from the developer had not yet been passed on to the affected villages.

Controversy continues to surround the project till this day and the development swings between being the victim of political positioning for the upcoming elections and the bogeyman of choice for the media and local community; obliterating all mention of other developers and developments in the area which could have as much environmental, economic and social impact as Forest City.

In contrast to the typical tale in developed nations of project instigation, endorsement and financial support, Forest City was envisioned by a Malaysian person of prominence and modelled on the success of Shenzhen and its evolution from Hong Kong backwater to thriving metropolis. That a Chinese developer became the main actor in the project is a nod to China's re-emergence as a global player and to its strategic interests in Southeast Asia.

First Step

Once, as I was working on something connected with the technical side of administrative affairs, I fell into a reverie of thoughts, tracing my own journey in politics. At this point in my life, as the Secretary General of DPP Golkar, I was responsible for many things, including important state matters that only a few were privy to.

I reflected that my journey in politics had been a long one. What had started out as a part-time activity was now a full-time career, with me finally within the main circle of the elite in the country. If anyone asked me how I had got this far, I would not find it easy to come up with an answer.

To deal with the day-to-day business at the secretariat, Pak Dhar immediately appointed Sudarsono, an echelon II civil servant at the State Secretariat. In his capacity as the Head of the DPP Golkar Secretariat, Sudarsono and the staff he brought from his previous post managed to integrate themselves well with the existing staff, and both teams were able to work in tandem with each other.

Later on I discovered that Sudarsono had done his post-graduate studies at L’Institut International d’Administration Publique, a prestigious educational institution in France. Sudarsono was a consummate administrator and was excellent at communicating with others. He always came on top as well in various training workshops held by the state administration agency.

When I became State Minister for the Environment in 1993, I appointed him Secretary of the Ministry of the Environment. Pak Dhar, who was then former Vice-President, was surprised by my choice of Sudarsono. There was another side of Sudarsono that Pak Dhar had not had an opportunity to see, which was his intellectual capability. Apparently, while he was at the State Secretariat, Sudarsono managed to hide his superior intelligence from everyone else.

Soeharto's Man

My political journey for the last two decades had led me to rub shoulders with Indonesia's top politicians. If I could just create the map, it would be very interesting. I often found myself pondering on what General Benny Moerdani and Moerdiono told me.

The first three months of my tenure as Minister of State for Administrative Reform were nothing short of strange. Instead of seeing me during working hours at the presidential office Bina Graha as he did with other ministers, President Soeharto liked to summon me to his private residence in Jalan Cendana in the evening. Odder still, during those night-time meetings, never once did he bring up the matter of my portfolio or duties, preferring to dwell on colourful past events that he wanted to talk about.

I decided to ask Vice President Sudharmono and the Minister of Defence and Security L.B. “Benny” Moerdani why I was being treated differently. The two senior figures in government were in agreement— that the President was trying to size me up, with a view to making me part of his inner circle, commonly known as the Cendana Group.

Both of them also cautioned me that being in the inner circle was a great burden, going by their own experiences during the 1988 General Session of the People's Consultative Assembly (MPR). But they also told me that I alone had to decide whether or not I wanted this course.

I mulled over what they had said for some time before resolving to choose the “Middle Course”. Consequently, I decided to send a clear signal to the President that I wished merely to serve as minister, and not to be inducted into the inner circle. My opportunity arrived when the President started telling me some very private matters about himself, which I thought was inappropriate between a President and his minister.

At that moment, I made up my mind to speak up. I pointed out to him that I had been minister for three months but never once had he informed me of what he expected me to do in that capacity. I also told him frankly that I was uncomfortable with discussing private affairs.

As he listened to my declaration, I noticed the President's face becoming tense. He then said rather curtly, “Please have a drink!” I knew this was an unmistakable signal that our conversation was over. It was therefore with relief that the next time he summoned me it was to Bina Graha at 10 a.m.

We had a thorough and productive discussion on my department's new supervisory programme for government departments known as “Pengawasan Melekat”. At our first “proper” meeting, I formed a clear impression that the President was very well informed about government policy and was in full mastery of his brief as both head of state and government.

“May you live in interesting times”, a proverb says. Many would count their lucky stars to have lived through important moments in history.

Accordingly, we welcome the publication of Sarwono Kusumaatmadja's (SKA) autobiography, which will surely help us understand the moments he experienced through a more discerning eye: the early days of the newly independent republic, the Soekarno era and the New Order. For me personally, this book is not just something that jogs my memory. SKA is an important figure in my life, and the scope of this book covers the time during which both of us started to become acquainted with the world.

This book also reveals my good friend to the world in new dimensions. SKA relates his life experiences with great clarity and depth, but manages to avoid being tedious with his witty SKA-esque repertoires.

The book stands as proof that to be intellectual is not merely about education but also enlightenment born out of awareness. In this regard, the book has the potential to cultivate intellectuality and maturity in its readers.

This book covers the period in which SKA grew up and eventually became Secretary General of Golkar. It is a story of great interest since not many are familiar with SKA's background. Those who are somewhat familiar with his background will also benefit from the intimate details imparted by this book. One thing I know about SKA: he is an honest man, which makes this book credible.

The story of Sarwono's life from childhood till high school took place in the setting of the war for independence and with Soekarno at the pinnacle of his power. Yet, somehow, this is not a political book. What makes it interesting lies in the accounts of everyday life, in the socio-economic snapshots it gives of Jakarta at the time, something unfamiliar to most young people today. Perhaps not many will even consider things like this important. But they are important if we want to understand why and how Jakarta became the city we know it today. So, in a way, this book is a testimony on “Jakarta in the Making”.

I have known Pak Sarwono Kusumaatmadja for more than twenty years, going back to the time when he was Indonesia's State Minister for the Environment when I served as Singapore's Minister for the Environment from 1995 to 1997. I readily agreed when I was invited to contribute a foreword for the English translation of his memoir.

Pak Sarwono has had a long and distinguished career in politics and government, spanning the New Order and Reformasi eras. He cut his teeth as a member of the House of Representatives (DPR) from 1971 to 1988, during which he served as Secretary of the Golkar faction from 1973 to 1987. He was an astute politician who became the first civilian to be appointed Secretary General of Golkar in 1983. His appointment, when he was just forty years old, injected youth, energy and fresh ideas into the party. Having established a strong track record, Pak Sarwono was appointed to then-President Soeharto's Cabinet in 1988.

Pak Sarwono is a social activist at heart. His spirit of service and dedication to the Indonesian people became his hallmark throughout his years in government. As State Minister for Administrative Reform from 1988 to 1993, he improved the public service and professionalized the bureaucracy, including the education sector. As State Minister for the Environment from 1993 to 1998, Pak Sarwono recognized that environmental sustainability was key to long-term national development, and he introduced policies to incentivize Indonesian companies and people to preserve and protect the environment. He depended not only on his formal authority as the Minister, but also astutely drew on his instincts as a social activist and his links to NGOs and the media to achieve his aims. He was among the first to recognize the link between corporate practices and the environment. As Minister for the Environment, he proactively worked with the international community to manage environmental challenges such as transboundary haze. Pak Sarwono was subsequently appointed Indonesia's first Minister of Marine Affairs and Fisheries from 1999 to 2001, during which he laid the groundwork for the development and sustainable management of Indonesia's marine and fisheries resources.

Pak Sarwono made several working visits to Singapore, in both his capacities as Golkar Secretary General and Cabinet Minister. He engaged our leaders with candour about Indonesia and its views about Singapore and the world, and he worked hard to strengthen Singapore-Indonesia cooperation for mutual benefit.

I finished secondary school in 1963 and, after passing the admission test, was admitted to the Bandung Institute of Technology (ITB). The prestige of ITB was my main reason for choosing the university. Why did I choose Civil Engineering? The answer was that the faculty was known for its “killer” lecturers. As my first backup in case ITB had fallen through, I also applied to the Medical School at Unpad and was accepted. On my mother's advice, I had in addition applied to the Textile Academy because the prerequisites were easy to fulfil. I was accepted there as well.

My choice of university major then, I must admit, did not reflect any clear life plan. Never did I envisage myself working as a civil engineer after completing my studies. I had indeed followed my urge to overcome a momentary challenge, while at the same time also making alternative arrangements.

My time as a university student at ITB was an important part of my life. It was a kaleidoscope of experiences for me. Between 1963 and 1965, campus life was as good as could be expected, but chaos reigned in our society. The volatile state of affairs affected our family, although I was fortunate enough to not have my studies interrupted.

Hazing at PMB

At the campus located in the Ganesha Complex that was ITB, I was reunited with my great friend from Kanisius College, Wimar Witoelar. He was studying electronics. Wimar and I became a team ever since we underwent the hazing rituals together at the Bandung University Students’ Association (PMB) and the orientation period at ITB, known as mapram.

PMB was an organization for university students in Bandung. It was founded in 1948 on the premise that it was oriented towards societal harmony, nationhood and Pancasila (the Indonesian state ideology). Although it engaged actively in the discourse on political affairs, PMB was essentially a place of recreation, or as the youth of today would say, a place for students to hang out. Its members were students from the top three universities in Bandung: ITB, the University of Padjadjaran (Unpad) and the Catholic University of Parahyangan (Unpar).

PMB members were known for their creativity and independence. We planned and funded all our activities ourselves.

This book is a record of my experiences and personal observations between 1948—when as a toddler I first had limited awareness of my surroundings—and 1988, when I ended my tenure as the Secretary General of Golkar. During this period in my life, there were a great many lessons that I gained but which I could only fully discern through observation and contemplation.

I started writing this book in 2005 and continued the effort sporadically and then intensely in the first half of 2018. It was an interesting and instructive experience. I discovered that the more I wrote, the more I remembered. I also needed to rely on considerable self-discipline so that the various conclusions I made from the process of writing were commensurate with my actual awareness at the time. I tried to resist the temptation of using hindsight. In this respect, I naturally needed a process of control, which I was able to procure not only from the available literature but also from the services and help of friends and family, as I explained in the Preface.

My advice to the younger generations: record what is taking place around you and write down your experiences day to day, whether they had a little or big impact on the world beyond yourself. For my own part, I was lucky enough that certain important moments were documented by my late wife, Nini, who even when she was terminally ill, continued to file important documents, which I found invaluable for the writing of this book. Several colleagues also sent me media clippings from their collections. In the digital age of today, also known as the Fourth Industrial Revolution—whereby digital technology is expected to develop exponentially—creating a record of our life's work and the interconnectedness of different events will be easier to do. The past, the present and the future can be more easily mapped out in terms of relevance and mutual relationships. By turning it into an instrument for charting one's life experiences, information technology will not be reduced to a facilitating tool for momentary uses but will instead contribute to more meaningful choices for the future.

Here are a few of life's lessons that have accrued to me.

After a long process that culminated in the first half of 2018, this memoir was finally completed, just in time to be published for my seventy-fifth birthday. In many ways, efforts for this memoir began long before its actual writing, when I was Minister of State for Administrative Reform. It was during this period that I instructed a group of young people at the ministry to conduct interviews of their colleagues and seniors, with the view to collecting material for an autobiography. Unfortunately, for reasons unknown to me, those I charged with the task were halfhearted in their efforts, and the few interviews they made were never handed in to me.

Around the early part of 2000, my journalist friend Dwi (Donny) Iswandono—who was a sports reporter when I was President of the Indonesian Association of Lawn Tennis (PELTI)—and his colleague Iput Bambang Putranto came to talk me into reviving the idea of a memoir. We also discussed the issue of the forest fires that had ravaged Sumatra and Kalimantan in 1997, the horrors of which were still fresh in our minds.

In turn, I suggested to both Donny and Iput that they begin collecting information and data on the forest fires, which then became a book titled Kemelut Politik di Balik Asap: Refleksi atas Bencana Nasional Kebakaran Hutan 1997–1998 (Political Crisis behind the Haze: A Reflection on the National Disaster of the Forest Fires of 1997–1998). Alas, this book is not discussed in depth in this memoir, which only covers the period between 1948 and 1988.

Early in 2000, my brother Mochtar Kusuma-Atmadja and I discussed whether we both needed to write our own respective autobiographies for posterity. At the time, Mochtar did not feel the urgency to do so. He felt he had been sufficiently productive in writing about foreign policy, legal reform, the environment and new initiatives in the cultural sphere. Mochtar believed his works should speak for themselves as part of his legacy. In fact, he tended to believe that any text on his life might end up becoming a string of self-justifications, not to mention being an egocentric exercise.

The period between 1948 and 1988 was noteworthy in the post-independence history of Indonesia, a period rife in political, economic and social upheavals. Examining the available literature on the period, we are presented with an array of opinions and interpretations on the expositions of great ideas for the nation and on those who carried them out.

This book is one such undertaking; narrated in a communicative way that truly evokes the atmosphere of the period described by Sarwono Kusumaatmadja, replete with acute observations and firstrate wit. What impressed me most was how Sarwono's childhood and teenage years—coupled with the family values instilled in him and the multitude of life's challenges overcome through perseverance, creativity and resolve—made him the man he is.

The journey of the republic between 1948 and 1988 was crucial in laying the foundation for the young nation-state. For Sarwono, who was born in 1943, the period was unique as it corresponded with his own formative years and his growing maturity as an individual.

What is compelling about Steering a Middle Course is how the great events of national importance have been translated into how they affected the many, resulting in a very down-to-earth and tangible narrative. Another distinguishing factor is that not only was Sarwono a witness to the political events and the modern development of Indonesia but he was an active participant in them.

To date, even in retirement, Mas Sarwono continues to be in public service through, among other things, his role as chairman of the national Advisory Board on the Management of Climate Change. His role has shifted from being at the forefront to being in the background, encouraging and counselling the younger generations by interacting with them.

How Mas Sarwono has reached this milestone is also what this book is all about. It is my personal hope that, in time, Steering a Middle Course will be followed by another memoir covering the period between 1988 up to the present time. The great changes that have taken place in Indonesia since 1989 were no less interesting or less dramatic than the earlier period in our history. To Mas Sarwono, I convey my congratulations on the release of his memoir Steering a Middle Course.

Political Structure Reform Agenda

In the lead-up to the 1978 MPR General Assembly, as a full-time politician, I started pondering upon issues worth pursuing as an MP in order to make my presence in the DPR/MPR meaningful. Not championing any cause would have rendered my presence ineffectual.

To that end, my colleagues and I revisited the political ideas that had once been dissected in the 10th November Study Group since its inception in 1968. Some of the ideas emanating from the group had found their way into the 1966 MPRS General Assembly. One idea that stood out among the rest was on political restructuring, leading to the creation of new settings with which the New Order would differentiate itself from Soekarno's Guided Democracy.

High-ranking government officials often pontificated that, “The New Order isn't the Old Order minus PKI. Rather it is a regime that implements the 1945 Constitution and Pancasila in their pure and consistent form.” The agenda to reform our political structure arose from the search for that format. Discussion of this idea was not confined only to those of us from Bandung, but it was also widely debated among the ‘66 activists.

There were essentially two elements to the agenda: First, quantitative reform, which would ultimately empower sociopolitical forces with the largest representative basis so they could play their maximum roles. It would also act to limit the number of sociopolitical entities taking part in the General Election. Consequently, the political instability that a multiparty system tended to bring about could also be avoided.

Second, qualitative reform, to be carried out by entrenching Pancasila as the only ideological basis permitted in the public sphere. As a result, political rivalries could only be competition between programmes within the boundaries of pluralistic values as represented by Pancasila.

Rejection

These concepts found favour with the ‘66 community. But the question remained of how we would put them into action. The means with which we could restructure Indonesian politics was never going to be easy to find. That was why, after General Soeharto was sworn-in as President at the 1968 MPRS General Assembly, it was suggested that the plan should be an initiative by the executive.