Showing posts with label Indolit-Esay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Indolit-Esay. Show all posts

October 10, 2008

Art Awaiting the Saviour

Art Awaiting the Saviour

by: Dr.Ali Shariati
Translated by Ms. Homa Fardjadi


In the Name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful, Friends, Ladies and Gentlemen:


YOU MIGHT feel that art, whatever form it may take, is a complex subject which requires proper specialization to speak about it and that one who attempts to talk about it must necessarily be an artist himself. You and I both agree that I cannot consider myself to be one. But on the other hand, my words here on art are not of the kind which are common these days. They differ from other talks given on this subject or themes in which one has to deal with the particular area of his specialization.

There are some sciences which are oppressed in our society. They are oppressed in the sense that they have no particular owner. The reason they have no owner is because they do not have a set of clearly definable rules and limitations. At any rate, my words on art here are not of this kind. I am not speaking here as a specialist on the subject of art, but rather as one who is interested in knowing about art.

My words will represent my own point of view. They have, at one and the same time, an aspect of specialization as well as an aspect that is quite general and related to humanity. In this sense, it is contrary to some of the sciences which become so specialized that they become exclusive and others are not allowed to express an opinion about them. This is true of physics, chemistry and mathe- matics.

But art addresses itself to all people while at the same time it requires a skill and a technique. And yet, it is more than that. To a certain extent, the knowledge of it requires education and involves training. But I am only speaking here as one who has been addressed by the art of my own time. It is from this point of view that I will criticize and express my views as to why art is as it is.

To begin with, we are considering the problem of art because we are an eastern people. A part of our people relate to some of the great civilizations of mankind. Slogans accepted by all the Asian and African nations today are, 'We must stand on our own two feet,' 'We must nourish ourselves from our own original, cultural resources. We must return to ourselves. We must pull ourselves out of our state of stupefaction of having passively sunk into western cultural values and models. This is only the starting point.

Some think that it is enough to realize the fact that we should return to ourselves and our own character. No, this is only our point of departure and our slogan. We must immediately answer the question, 'What is the self?' What is it that we are referring to when seeking to return to our culture?

Unfortunately, in a society whose fate is fixed, stagnant and immobile, the fate of meanings is just as miserable. When a problem or an idea is proposed, it often meets resistance without having been understood, heard, known or recognized properly. It is put down not only by reason, knowledge or words, but through other ethical ways and means, as well.

If a person tries to turn his back on the question, he or she will sink even further in. If one is hard-headed and stands and resists at any price, then one becomes the idol of fashion. When fashionable, it then becomes vulgar to the degree that the person will regret it completely.

The idea of 'returning to self' has now become such that the people who first suggested it, with great difficulties in some coun- tries, are now prepared to pay any price to acquit themselves of the blame. Returning to self has now become equivalent to the revival of superstitions, frozen traditions, fanaticism and a return to the uncivilized, indigenous traditions.

Returning to self means to return to one's own character. It means to breathe with the spirit, seeking the constructive, active and progressive aspects of culture which have, in the past, created societies, civilization and urbanization. It does not mean to return to problems which have, through time and according to needs, died, and are now extinct and dead matter. It never means to explore meanings, feelings, emotions, ideas and philosophies from the begin- ning of time and exhibit them in our modern museums.

We should rather return to ourselves as the reality and truth demands, to our national and ethnic character. We should not do so with an attitude of racism or because of being attached to blood or land, but only because of our relationship to humanity. To return to that character means to gain independence from the attacks of foreign values. Meanwhile, one of the most immediate and genuine responsibilities will be to fight against superstition, archaic values and all the elements which blind and weaken a nation and its insight and keep it from creativity, modernization, progress and continuous change. A return to self does not mean a return to the old, worn out ideas.

But the question remains, which culture is it that we should know? Which culture is it that we should revive in order to receive inspiration from its creative and constructive spirit? Return to self is all right, but what is this true self ? Answering this question presents an immediate problem. We should no longer pose the question, 'Should we or should we not return to self or to our own culture,' we should now, know ourselves. That is, we should start a scientific search. We should seek an up-to-date outlook in our choice of sources and resources, whether human, scientific or cultural and one of them would be the arts.

Contrary to the judgment reflected in the mind of our dormant generation, we are neither weak nor poor in our arts, deeds or manifestations. We should forget standing dumbfounded as primi- tives when confronted with the expressions of the world's progressive art. If we study art in all its dimensions, and not only through translations of the history of art or lives of the artists where the encyclopedias begin with Greece and end with France, but rather, as a reader, an independent historian, if we regard the whole world, its history and its diverse ways, we will see that we do have a profound base in the arts. I would also suggest that modern art, that is, the art characterizing the twentieth century, which contains the rays of the future, is an art which tries, in a new way, to approach the artistic spirit which was the fundamental basis of Oriental art. I will explain how.

Secondly, the concept of art is no longer a minor and secondary part of the life of the well-off and the aristocrats as it was in the past. On the contrary, it is the most serious and essential human problem to be considered in the modern world today, the world which has surpassed its limits of aristocratic palaces and the comfortable life-style of the rich. It has extended itself into the crowd and has spread among the masses. The new art is no longer controlled by the aristocracy, as was the case in the past, but it is the sympathetic intellectual, conscious and sensitive, who leads it. Art is no more a pleasant and diverting tranquilizer to keep our lives closed and comfortable. It leads the philosophies of today and runs ahead of our contemporary ideas. It is essential for us to know art, both because of the way it has extended itself in the human world and because of the serious and supreme responsibility it has acquired today. To what- ever history, culture or land we may belong, we are still living in this century.

Return to self, knowing oneself, on the one hand, is not to limit and confine oneself to one's own model, but rather, only they can know themselves who can know others at the same time. The proverb about language is relevant here which says: Only that person knows his language who necessarily knows a foreign language as well. one only knows his culture, religion, race, talents and history who essentially knows another's history, religion and language. This is why, while our goal and our struggle may be to find our lost and changed character, at the same time, knowing the West and the new waves of the contemporary world and civilization becomes necessary as well.

Everybody blames the poor West for his weaknesses, corruption and absurdities. Who is the foreigner we have learned to become like? What we see today is not the result of imitating the West. It is rather because of not imitating the West. It is caused by not knowing the West. If we had been conscious imitators of the West, we may no longer have been Eastern, but at least we would have been 'some- what Western' whereas presently we are nothing.

The points referred to here are suggestions I made in five lectures delivered in Paris in 1962. One of the lectures I had prepared was on the subject of 'the Spirit of the Iranian Nation.' Another was on the life of the Prophet, 'Mohammad, his Wives and his Names.' It was in response to a Catholic conference which had made the private life of the Prophet into a play. Another of the lectures was about 'Art Awaiting the Saviour.' This lecture was later translated in Tehran, but for some reason, half of it was left out and the other half rejected. Since then, I have made fundamental revisions in my views on art. My outlook now differs. Although the points and observations I made then are the same, there are some examples, appropriate in the context of the original conference, which I have now changed.

As the title of the subject suggests, I intend to show that art is a religion, a transcendent and sacred truth, a saviour of humanity. It has a responsibility which is great indeed and which rises above materiality. It is a responsibility which is totally human. But art has been turned away from this faith, the religion of art, not by an enemy, since an enemy never causes deviation, but rather, an enemy enlivens its enemy. What transforms a religion and thought, is a friend or an enemy which appears as a friend in society.

The form of all religions has been modified and made to rot from the inside. Look at Islam. When the Qoraish stood against it, it was a growing, radiant, exalted, powerful and proud society. But when the same enemy became Moslem and put on the cloak of a friend, the situation transformed into something else. It took a completely opposite turn. This is why we say that it was not wars and conflicts which caused Islam, Judaism or Christianity to weaken and shift from the true way. But as Jesus says, it was the Jewish priests who corrupted the Jewish faith. It was Papism that caused Christianity to diverge. In the case of Islam, we ourselves have led the faith astray.

Art was not weakened by Plato who opposed poetry and art. Neither was it weakened by those who see it as vain, nor by people with a conscious, clear mind, those who know the Truth of that religion and have recognized the shift from its original goal. The conscious are aware that religion is something else and has now turned into another thing. It has been corrupted by our great artists who have brought it down to today's level of vulgarity.

When a religion declines, as we have pointed out, it takes a direction opposite to its original one, it is metamorphosized, so to speak. There is a group of people who believe religion by itself is metamorphosized and thereby declines. There is another group of half-literate intellectuals who think that the metamorphosis or decline itself is that religion and oppose it on these grounds.

When we turn our attention towards those who are conscious and aware of the real spirit of religion, we are met by a revolutionary thought, manifest in all religions, which is the belief in the final salvationythat which will bring about revolutionary eradication of decay and oppression, that which will obliterate all deviation.

This promised salvation (namely messianism) is essentially a revolutionary thought that arises from the spirit and throws out all false habits, customs and delusions at one time, revealing the true and direct way. It leads art and religion back to its original path.

The state of art is such today that the worst of the duties and the most mischievous of the missions is left in the hands of this world. The role of art should be exactly the opposite of this. On the other hand, there has always been a misuse and inversion of supreme beauty and truth. As Jalal al-din Rumi says, 'If you see that there is a forged coin current in the market, know that there has been a golden one which was a means of exchange.' No one makes a simple forged coin but always a forged golden coin.

This very imitation directs us to the fact that man is deceived through religion, art and philosophy and this fact should indicate to us that the way to awareness and the construction of human beings is also through them. That which is relevant between myself and my friends becomes an excuse to be used by an enemy who has a different opinion than we do. Is it that when a truth is misused, we should wash our hands of it? Or, the reverse, fight against the misuse? The enemy is armed with this weapon. This is why we should keep the truth and defend it. If we let it go, the enemy will be victorious and we will be defeated.

Historically, the misuse of something was most often carried out in the name of religion and it is now done in the name of art. This is why we should come to know the real direction of art and once we know it, make it known to others. This is a most immediate problem because art has occupied all of our time in the 20th century. This is not correct to my way of thinking. Rather, it is one of the stages that art has to pass through in order to reach a superior one.

For a discussion on art, we should put beauty aside. There is nothing more important and at the same time suspicious in artistic, philosophical and scientific matters than the truth of beauty. Unlike the problem of metaphysics and religion, beauty cannot be denied, even though we usually deny it when we reach a dilemma. But, it is there, for all men are affected by it and everyone recognizes it. If there is any disagreement, it is on the different kinds of beauty in human life, be it in what I see or what I feel in my heart. On the other hand, we are bound to analyze it, and it does not lend itself easily to analysis.

As history shows, people have tried to scientifically and philosoph- ically analyze beauty and develop rules and limitations for it since the time of Aristotle. But all these efforts have been in vain and remain unrealized. In fact, each of the various ideas have certain followers but this shows that, in fact, the arguments have not as yet reached any particular stage.

We do not have time here for me to talk about the various concepts of beauty presented as an idea in the different schools of thought. But I will have to name them as examples where necessary in the course of our discussion.

The understanding of art and beauty is very much dependent upon comprehending the human being. In particular, the problem of art, more than anything else and more than ever depends upon the role of the human being and upon comprehending him. Efforts towards the development and evolution of culture have been strengthened, but they have remained incomplete because the human beings who must live in this civilization and within this cultural framework are not comprehended. Their needs are not known and the knowing of these needs depends upon knowing the human being. Art more than anything else is in need of comprehending the human being because art is usually considered to be either subjective, that is, completely human or else very objective. Those who believe that beauty consists of a truth which comes into being from the interac- tions of our spirit and an external object, think it is an objective approach, but because we think subjectively, we actually see all things half-subjectively and half-objectively. Thus we cannot say anything about art and beauty unless we first speak about the human being.

The true human being is in a state of becoming, whereas mankind has a specific and distinct existence which can be described from its five hundred thousand year history. The human being's 'becoming' is not the same thing as mankind's 'coming into being'. That is a reality with other kinds of peculiarities.

From the depths of the world of feeling to modern philosophies, multiple mystic, philosophic and even materialistic interpretations have been given. But it all means that to the extent to which a creature is part of nature, society, a tribe and comes into being through physiological and material laws and rules, he or she eventually becomes lonely and then the feelings of loneliness and the desire for freedom arise Based upon these feelings, anxiety and agitation follow and efforts towards once again joining that which, with effort, he or she left and thirsted for, becomes a perpetual ascending evolution which, through choice and effort, takes the shape of a will which compensates for what he or she feels is lacking in the existing world.

It is possible that all the ideas of a human being may not be right, but knowledge means struggling, thinking, making observations and adjusting one's views to reach something. It is not that we should say nothing until we reach 'the knowledge of certainty' and 'the truth of certainty', for it is impossible to reach it all at once unless it be through revelation. We should continue saying and thinking as we reach towards it. We had a teacher who would slap us whenever we made mistakes in reading the Qoran. Thus none of us ever learned to read the Qoran properly.

The paradise that I know or presume to know is subjective and related to the human being. In the story of creation, as I understand it, history is not denied. It is simply not natural history. Rather, paradise is a philosophical-symbolic expression which attempts to analyze contemporary man and the enigma that is called humanity. What does paradise mean ? It means paradise. We see there are still people in paradise. They have not been expelled from it yet. Their world is filled with blessing. The world is full of joy. Man feels rich, satisfied and fulfilled in life. The one who is happy with the thought that parliament may pass a law sometime in the future that would add 1110 to his salary, is in paradise. He has not yet come out of it. The one who has not eaten the forbidden fruit that God asked him not to eat, is comfortable. He is satisfied and happy.

But what is that forbidden fruit? The Old Testament and the Qoran both talk of perception and consciousness. I know some paradisiac people who find pleasure in this world, who find joy in seeing that it is the season for the fresh sheep's milk and yogurt. They sense the coming of spring.

Henry Luper says that there are two kinds of people. One group are a hundred percent objective, realistic and ordered. They have not the least bit of unexplainable pains; they are all reason. But which kind of reason ? The reason that dominates the material world. I met an example of this group in a restaurant a few years ago. I was reading 'Le Monde'. It had an article analyzing the situation in Bolivia. They had just had a coup d'etat. Next to me, a man, while eating his meal, had bent his head trying to read as much as could be seen of the third page. I was not paying any attention. When I realized he was interested, I asked him which page he was trying to read. He said the third page. The third page is economics. That is the one which gives the price of cars, objects and also the daily rate of exchange. It is useful for the wealthy.

As I was interested in the article on Bolivia, he asked me what my occupation was. He wanted to know if I was Bolivian. I said, 'No. I am not a politician, but an Iranian student from Mashad.' I asked him what he was doing. He said he was a student from Israel. 'I live with an income of 600 francs per month,' he said. I asked him why he was interested in the rate of exchange adding, Whatever it may be, what difference does it make to us what the rate of exchange is for the French franc?'

He said, 'You are from a corner of the world and not even a politician, but you want to find out what is going on in Bolivia. But I am a person who is living anyway I can with this 600 francs per month, in this place with these fluctuations in the rate of exchange for the franc, pound and dollar. It affects my life of 600 francs. I buy cigarettes, if the rate of the franc falls, my two francs will be worth two and a half francs and I buy food. If the position changes while I am studying the rate of exchange for the franc, if after a year, the increase of five centimes is added to the price of air fare, all of this has a direct effect on my life. But what you read never has an effect.' I remained silent. We looked at each other for awhile. We could clearly see how each of us was a fool in the other's eyes.

As Henry Luper says, there are two or three resources in man. One is reason, another perception and the other thinking. These are all terminologies. There is only one and that is understanding which forms the quality of what I receive and what I come to know. It is not that which reason says, or that which my feelings, as such, show me. There are different kinds of reason. Each person sees the world according to the character of his reasoning. This includes even the way he sees material objects and colors. Certainly, two types of reasoning will describe one color differently. We do not see the world as it really is, but rather, we see the world as we really are. This need, which is an essential part of man, has been explained with subtlety and extreme profundity in the philosophy of the creation of man.

The man who has had everything, who is satisfied and who has felt no need or suffering and who has had only pleasure and blessings within his reach, was told not to eat the forbidden fruit. But he was deceived by the devil and ate it. He reflected for the first time. It is all very clear what that tree was and the effort of Islamic and Jewish interpreters to verify whether it was an apple tree or a sheaf of wheat or something else is all in vain.

It is clear that after they ate the fruit, as the Qoran says, God came to see them. He called them, but they did not come. They said they were ashamed of their nude bodies. God realized that they had eaten the fruit of that tree. It means that they had not previously been aware of their nudity, indecency, ugliness and shamelessness. This was why they were happy. Because of this, they were in paradise. was why they were happy. Because of this, they were in paradise. It has been clearly and directly stated in the Qoran and the Old Testament that this was the fruit of perception and consciousness. The Qoran explicitly refers to it. It is clear from the text that as soon as man swallowed this forbidden fruit, the sight of paradise becomes an earthly world of pains, smaller than the needs of human beings. This is the meaning of fall and descent.

The Garden of Eden is on earth and it is this earth. We can see now as always that the more human beings eat of that fruit (consciousness the more they sense that their life upon the earth is constricted. They suffer more in sensing the inadequa- cies of others The less they eat, the more peace they have ant the more pleasure they experience. Their needs are immediately met by winning a lottery ticket.

This is why they say that in paradise, by just saying a prayer, they will have everything they want. can there be any thing simpler than this? And is there anything more true than this?

But why is this fruit, which has been eaten more than once by man and is continuously being eaten, forbidden? Because it makes the human being fall from that comfort, satisfaction, ease and pleasure and begin to feel things lacking in the world. The walls of unaware- ness close in on him, narrow the passage to his soul and cause him pain. He is always moving, searching, struggling, working and wanting. He will not be satisfied. Whoever eats from the fruit and attains another stage of consciousness, feels more need and this is what to rebel means.

Who is the one to rebel? The one who is conscious. Rebel against the will of God? What is the will of God ? The will of God is the law which exists in history. The will of God is the law which is inherent in nature. The will of God is the tribal laws and the laws of human societies. It is the law that exists in the physiology of my organism which makes me be part of mankind, a living being in this world.

Hence, the will of God which tells us not to eat from that fruit, is the four bounds, the four forces, the four chains that want to keep us in this atmosphere. When one reaches the state of perception and consciousness, one is freed from the determinations of nature, history, society and the self.

This is what Hegel calls absolute will, free from primordial nature, the primordial state of being, and this very term of Hegel's is what our mysticism is all about. It is with the same words of Hegel that our religion says that we will return to God. It is this very term which in our religion says, 'I created man in the image of Myself' and 'I made him successor upon the earth.' This means that the human being, in his struggle, becomes free from the bonds of nature and the laws that nature has used to build him. But because nature builds him, it rightfully intrudes. In this latter state, the human being is only an animal or a plant. He frees himself from the prison of history, for as historians say, each person is the result of his own history.

He is freed from prison, laws and social traditions. All human beings are products of their social environment, social laws and relations save those who reach absolute consciousness and are freed from their material and worldly prison. That is, they are freed from their paradise. This freed human being, to the extent that he has freed himself, reaches a state of consciousness and knowledge. We see that it is through this technique that we continue to free ourselves from social laws and thereby dominate society.

The human being of today, changes and builds his society, whereas human beings of the past were built as their tribe or society demanded. No one who is part of a tribe has ever reached the state of consciousness to be able to change his social traditions or change his religion or change his social relations and his life. He does not feel, for there is no 'I' for him. There is no free and liberated human being. The human being who is his own prisoner means that all the drives, attractions and tendencies which nature created in him to enable him to continue living, have bound his will in the trap of these physical demands. He pushes all of these away and then that human being reaches that absolute consciousness, the will to choose, and comes closer to God. He comes closer to the image of God in which he was created.

It is the human being who attains such a level of consciousness and feels liberated and separated who becomes lonely. It is this lonely one who sees the world to be too small. It is this lonely one that feels the anguish, it is the needs of this human being which are not satisfied by the earthly benefits and blessings of nature.

The human being never approaches colorlessness and should not wish to do so. Colorlessness means death. It means becoming a vegetable. The human being should wish to replace inferior needs with superior ones and hope to feel greater and higher pains. Who is the one who has more agitation and thirst? Not the one who is more prosperous or the one less so. This is not the question. It is the one whose needs are more and superior. It is this human being who is more anxious and under more stress.

In an Anthropology Conference held in Belgium, everybody agreed to name the twentieth century, 'The Century of Anxiety.' Why? All of the different considerations in various areas and occasions which I have mentioned here exist, and yet, it is undeniable that today's human being has more knowledge and is more conscious than in the past.

In Durkheim's words, the 'I' has appeared in contemporary man, meaning that the individual has developed, whereas the man of the past was a being living within the fabric of nature. The sap of life and nature were running in his veins and he was nurtured by it. By means of that sap, he was fostered, grew and found peace and order. But the lonely human being of today? But why lonely? Being with everyone? Is this the only need that a human being has? Which need? The need which comes about when an individual understands what he or she should be and is not. This need is constantly increasing. It reaches the state of more knowledge, consciousness and world consciousness and the need finally becomes independent from nature. At the same time that he knows that nature is a house that is shared with the animal and vegetable kingdom, he also knows it lacks something.

He needs to have the world sense him. The more lonely the human being becomes, the more alienated he feels. What Camus says is that contemporary man is alienated from everything. This alienated man feels closeness and familarity more than ever and he needs to feel familiarity, yet his family and the world are more than ever alienated from him. He senses in his nature, and in the depth of his thoughts that all boundaries will end when his feelings find continuation in this world.

Existence accepts death. But his feelings will continue. He weighs what exists with his spiritual and transcendent needs. He sees that he does not get enough and feels alienated.

This problem of alienation is not only a metaphysical problem. The alienation which Sartre, Camus and Heideger talk about is something which gives existence to art.

Science is the struggle of man to know what exists. Technique and industry are defined as: the means and the mental struggle of human beings for benefitting from as much as is possible of that which is. But art consists of the struggle of human beings for benefits which should exist, but do not. Therefore, the human being who sees himself alone, wants to set up, through art, a relationship with this earth and sky or with the objects which he is alienated from because they are not the same kind as he. He wants to color them with familiarity and understanding.

Thus, one of the things that art does is to help decrease the feeling of alienation of the conscious human being who has fled and alienated himself. How? It allows him to decorate the walls of his prison in the image of the house he wishes he was in and isn't. These objects, this sky, these stars and mountains do not understand him. He is left alone, stone-like and blind among all these objects. Art gives feelings to all these objects.

Our poetry is a perfect example. What most of our poems do is to reconcile the lonely poet with the crowd. This man who is lonely becomes understood through a candle. Art changes the candle into an acquaintance which feels the poet's animosity. Art sees the sun rise not as a revolution of the earth and sky but in a way that makes the sun suddenly appear in the sky. This does not fulfill his needs, but it is like a message from a friend. In this artistic deception, his feelings of alienation and separation from objects in nature becomes refined. Art also does something else. It allows the artist to make and create in the world something that does not exist in nature, but 'he needs it to be'.

The art of the past was kept at the level of imitating nature. Plato said, 'Art is the imitation of nature.' If art is imitating nature, then Plato's words are clear. Art is a game. It is deceitful and false. A man who has realities at his disposal must be made to simulate them. Would anyone simulate water? Where there is water, why should there be its imitation ? Plato may be right in thinking that it is only a game and all in vain, but I understand it quite differently.

Art is imitating precisely what is beyond the tangible, beyond nature, in order to decorate nature in its image, or to make something the human being wants to be in nature and does not find. It is there to fulfill his feelings of need and agitation, loneliness and most of all, his need to transcend, that is, separate himself from tangible, material needs.

This is why God entrusted art to man. He offered it to the earth, the sky, the mountains and oceans; none accepted it. This does not mean that they were asked, 'Oh mountain or sky, do you want it?' And they said, 'No.' So man picked it up. This means, rather, that mountains and oceans do not have creativity, they are not conscious and do not feel the need of things beyond that which already exists. They cannot feel. They are neither in need nor agitated and pained, nor can they create. It is the human being who picks it up. But what ?

He picks up the ability which he feels he has; he can choose; he can create. This is why I said that art is the expression of the power of creativity in human beings. In continuing it, in decorating it, it continues being. Being is the ultimate goal for everything, both the being of nature and that of the life of society, both organic being and the being of our human limitations.

Art is the expression of the human being's creativity and through the continuation of this being, it becomes an expression of the creativity of God, in order to create what he wants and does not find. Therefore, as Hegel says, 'Art has been evolving from the material and objective towards the perceptible, intellectual and subjective.'

By subjective, I do not mean the bourgeois idealism that one might have in mind and we all condemn. I have nothing to do with its philosophy. Rather, in the beginning, the human being was an absolute, non-conscious soul that penetrated the organisms of nature. Then the evolutionary process of that soul reached the human being. The human being is becoming conscious. The more conscious he becomes, the more he can sense the abstract which he himself represents. That is, as I see it, art brings consciousness to the unconscious soul of the human being because art, awakening the sense of the abstract, allows us to come to know God.

If you look at our own literature, the poetry of Manuchehri, Roudaki, Farrokhi, their wishes, their lives, their ideals and their needs are all objective, material and concrete. What are they longing fort They are longing for what there is but they do not possess, whereas Rumi is longing for that which does not exist.

It does not exist, we have found it.

That non-existent is my longing.

Art is searching for 'that' and industry is looking for 'this'. Industry is trying to find what there is in nature which is out of man's reach and reach it. This is exactly the opposite of what art is searching for. As we said, man seeks that which is not.

The more one struggles, the more one creates and the more one evolves, the more one will feel that one is becoming separated. As a principle, this is the motive for the evolution of man.

Manuchchri's love poems are at a very objective level and they do not have the least bit of human feelings in them. They are exactly paradise. Whereas when we reach Saadi and then Hafez and Rumi, there, in great abstraction, lies the story of feelings and expressions of the spirit. The world is imprisoned and paradoxically it is not there. One cannot even identify objectivity and materiality. Sometimes, when one wants to address this subject, the addressed feels him. He can well see that it has become a kind of consciousness. It has become exactly like the image of love and the breath of feeling. Sometimes it is not realized. Sometimes we cannot realize it.

What can I call It when I don 't know it?

This is not about the celestial lover, although it has reached the level of abstraction and transcendence. One can confuse them since limits belong to the sphere of objectivity. The difference of opinion as to what wine is made from and what it is, is all useless. The problem is to reach abstraction. In abstraction there is no boundary anymore and none of these categories and limitations exist in one's feelings. He is Manuchehri, as long as he uses words. It is the wine which he has received from his lover. After he becomes old and religious, it is obvious that his wine is something else and his lover of another sort. It is in this evolved feeling that he approaches abstraction. These arguments are appropriate in the study of life and works of Manuchehri and Farrokhi.

The abstract feelings reach the point of saying,

What can I call it when I don 't know it?

Why should I say I'm not, when I am in love with it ...

It is in the completely subjective, in the depths of the individual, far from the various natures and material objectives that this poetry reaches new poetry-modern poems.

My friend, Dr. Mokhtari, translated a book and gave it to me to read. This modern new novel was all about the description of objects. When you open a new novel, all you see is words about buses, buying tickets and cars and their honking. They are all describing common everyday life. It would seem as if-literature and art had escaped out of the interior essence of the human being. It has become objectivized and materialized. But in this novel, it says that, on the contrary, none of the external objects are the ones I am talking about. The tree I am talking about is not the tree that grows in the garden. It is the tree whose image is in my heart. I describe it. That man, of whom I am speaking, is different from the man that the biographer or the doctor talks about. He is a man who is in my mind. Therefore, I see him differently and it means something different to me.

Opposed to what Aristotle says, art has always been struggling to free itself from all that is objective, concrete and a subject of science based upon the humanism of ancient Greece, on the beauty of reality, on the beauty of the mountains and the valleys and, most of all, on the beauty of the human body. It tries to free man from these things as well.

But in the course of history, whenever art has been expressed freely and has not been the reflection of physiological needs, it has struggled to free itself from its bonds. All the artistic movements formed by artists, either with supernatural feelings or by ones without them, have tried to make art not so much a means to picture and describe reality or to define man, as his clear, existing model, but to use and recognize it as an inevitable challenge, a divine, creative becoming, the evolving of feelings and of the essential truth of man's being.

The most material of the arts is sculpture. Painting is more close to perfection. Why is it more perfect? Because it has one dimension less. It is two dimensional. As it has one dimension less of nature, it possesses one more potential to approach subjectivity. That is why we have in art today, great men such as Picasso. But in sculpture, such geniuses have not been able to develop, for they are bound in three dimensional forms.

Although dance is a classical art and a physical art, at the same time, that which it tries to embody is quite in accordance with the spirit, feeling and perception. Therefore, it can be the expression of an individual's inner feelings and an abstraction. Music has only one dimension which is time. Poetry is the absolute abstraction. This is why we see that in poetry we are able to express concepts in their highest form, whereas other fields do not lend themselves as readily.

Today, sculpture, which is the most material expression of old and new art, no longer tries to make us think we can make a statue of a champion or conceptualize the picture of a man or a woman. The artist does not use stone to build a body. A painter does not create a face with paint. They speak with stone and paint. Today we see that we can create better sculpture and painting than some of the works of artists.

An artist does not want to paint a nose like a real nose. How much is his own nose worth that he should try to simulate one? He creates a human being like Picasso created with one eye in the middle of his forehead. What is he trying to say? He wants to speak. The artist does not want to express that which is. He wants to say that the human being of today has become one dimensional. Picasso did not paint a painting of war and peace. He showed the philosophy ant meaning of war and peace. Just as I use the words of war and peace to express human problems, he uses the brush to speak of it, not by giving us the image of it.

Georges Saurat, a great impressionist painter, who might even be called one of its originators, says, "I may draw a horse. But this is not the horse in the field. This is the meaning and the concept of horse, expressed and embodied in the figure of a horse." He says, 'The people I have shown in the island painting, are people who have the curvature of their bodies composed of very fine points which were nothing but subjective images. We do not take any of these forms as conforming with nature. We take this as a joke. Certainly it is always easier to laugh at a new creation and no one needs any specialization or fairness in order to be able to beat it down. It is enough to say, 'I do not understand it. In this way, I will not be the one condemned, but him.'

The artists who painted in that style, where the curvature of bodies were made of an endless number of fine points and were nothing but subjective forms, made their paintings and colors clearer than those of Manet and Picasso and all the impressionists. The life shown in the picture belonged to no one. It was the reflection of a dazzling light. Spirit, substance and breath were foreign to it. Motion was removed from it. A confused scene flooded with the sun in an impressionist painting is not a piece of earth over which the silk of the sun draws itself.

He is not concerned with how he sees the sun or which kind of sun he needs. He creates it, as Khaqani and our other poets created the sun. There were some unfamiliar trees standing upright in the painting and some animals that Fourier, the famous zoologist, could never have imagined. The meaning of creating from non-being into being, is a responsibility of God and art, meaning the divine expression of art, the human being. The people Gaugin binds together are bound by something which Gaugin has created.

A sea could be seen which seemed to have flooded out of the mouth of a volcano, a sky that no eyes have as yet seen. There were the wild men, the alienated, the nonexistent beings with strange figures. He wants to talk about this human being. He is searching for him. He does not exist, so he creates him. This is who Rumi is looking for. He creates non-existent beings with strange figures. He wants to talk about this human being. He is searching for him. This is the human being whom Rumi seeks. He creates the non-existent, the human being that all men are looking for. one reaches the sun through mysticism, while another reaches it through his paintings. This human being, with his strange look, has hidden the unbound mystery in his innocent eyes.

Each signify something expressed through imaginary veils of pink and violet colored flames. Each one tells a meaning. It is a story with no veils, strange scenes, where animals and wild flowers grow and blossom under the fiery rays of the sun. Which Sowers grow and blossom in fire? Even plaster and stone transform into meaning, feeling, reflection and abstraction under artful hands.

Heidegger sees the human being and his true essence, which science has always neglected. Science keeps him from watching nature and searching into it. It still does. Some blame science, the science which alienates man from himself for not allowing the human spirit to liberate itself from the bonds holding it to nature's laws. For the only thing science and industry are concerned with is nature. They have left man alone.

Sartre feels the extension of the same loneliness and considers the world as lacking everything. He says that the human being should construct himself with his thinking and his will. Camus finds the alienation of man, the plague, here in this world. The altar that Lucres speaks about is this very world.

For whom? For the person who has reached that alienation and loneliness. That is the plague, the alienation. He reaches the state of absurdity and life becomes useless. Who? The human being. Which human being? The one who until now accompanied the 17th, 18th and 19th century bourgeoisie who wanted to build a philosophy of paradise for himself in a philosophy which would replace religion. The bourgeoisie had forgotten that man rebelled from sin millions of years ago in the paradise that God had made for him, where there was consumption, prosperity and joy.

How can you have the man who has reached such transcendent consciousness, stay calm and feel satisfied in the bourgeois paradise that you are making for him in life, in time and on this earth? The human being revolts. The revolt that we see is the revolt of the comfortable man. It is exactly the same revolt that he made in paradise.

Today, man becomes conscious and revolts. If any man, wherever he may be, in the divine paradise and the garden of Eden, attains consciousness, he revolts against all there is, longing and struggling in love for what there should be. This is the law of humanity.

We see today that art in the East has revolted against the humanism of Greece and the humanism of the Renaissance which went towards pleasures, showing the beauties of nature, the volume and line of the human body, human beauties and remaining in the framework of objectivity and reality. Along with philosophy and well-off people today, the revolt is also against the bonds of being and objectivity, not drowning oneself in the idle comforts, rather, continuing and finding the continuation of the human being.

Realism means remaining within the framework of what exists. This is stagnation in man which does not fit the rebelling, ever- thirsty man. In the same way, idealism is a betrayal of man who is true and real.

Along with philosophy and the human being of today, art is the standard bearer of this revolt against nature and objectivity. It is the standard bearer of man's self-discovery and the blossoming of and giving blossom to the transcendent possibilities and even those which transcend the human intellect and logic.

Art of today, in opposition to the past, does not remain in amusement, rather, it is to build something higher than the human being and humanity. This is a mission and a trust. As Metterling said, 'When God had made all things, He reached man. He stopped and left the creation to man himself.' Creative human being means artist, the human being who cuts away from everything, while he is creating, and with his creativity, he creates his art, he cries, he tries, he builds himself and he expenses himself. Whoever writes a new book, creates himself. A human being becomes his own creator and builds himself to the extent that his art contains the sense of his own humanity, not in the sense of his knowledge or his craft.

Where is the art today that takes the form of a bourgeoisie philosophy of entertainment as its mission for life? It is n the paradise which he wants to build on earth which consists of eating, pleasures and remaining in paradise. To consider art as pleasure, a pastime activity, a relief from the rigid industrial life, is to give this lowest of tasks to the most sacred of activities, that is, art, as if it were only to entertain whereas art should be put into the hands of a creator, as prophecy has been sealed.

Source: http://www.shariati.com/savior.html

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September 27, 2008

Literature, Censorship, and the State

Literature, Censorship and the State: To What Extent is a Novel Dangerous? 1)

By Pramoedya Ananta Toer
Translated by Alex G. Bardsley


I am an Indonesian citizen of Javanese ethnicity. This "fate" [kodrat] makes it clear that I was brought up with Javanese literature. It is a literary tradition dominated by wayang drama, oral as well as written, that tells of the Mahabharata and the Ramayana--the Javanese versions and their chewed-over wads, that continue to depend on the authority of Hindu culture. This dominant literature, without anyone being aware of it, 2) glorifies the satria class or caste, while the classes or castes under it have no role whatsoever. The satria caste's main job is to kill its opponents. In addition to the somewhat more dominant wayang literary tradition, there is the babad or chronicle literature. This also glorifies the satria caste, and in the hands of the court poets conjures away the crimes and defeats of kings, leaving fantastic myths instead.

One example is how the court poets of Java mythified the defeat of Sultan Agung, a king of the Javanese interior, who in military operations against Dutch Batavia in the second decade of the 17th century experienced total defeat. As a result Mataram suffered the loss of its power 3) over the Java Sea as an international [sic] sea route. To cover up the loss the court poets dreamt up the Sea Goddess Nyai Roro Kidul as camouflage, so that Mataram still ruled the sea, that is the Southern Sea (i.e., the Indian Ocean). This myth produced further mythical offspring: it was made taboo to wear green clothing on the shore of the Southern Sea. This was to sever any association with the green clothes of the Dutch [East India] Company. And without the court poets themselves intending it, the Goddess consolidated the power of the kings of Mataram over their people. She even became the thought police [polisi batin] of the Mataram people.

Here we are faced with literature in its relation to the state, and its utilization by the state, functioning for the glorification of [the state's] own works. Passed down from generation to generation the result is to deny the progression of ages, to bestow an unnecessary historical burden, to make people think that the past was better than the present. This conviction made me leave literature of that sort behind altogether. Leaving behind a literature that was born in the lap of power and functions (in my experience) to cradle power, right away I came across escapist literature, that feeds the ancient instinctual dreams of its readers. As Machiavelli put it, this kind of literature becomes an indirect instrument of Power, so that society will pay no attention to the power of the state. In short, so that society will not be political, will not care about politics. Literature of this second category brings its readers to a complete halt.

Because of my experience as the child of a family of freedom fighters, I pardon my own self if I do not like this escapist literature, the second type of literature. Consequent to my personal experience, though at first I was not aware of it, I was drawn directly to a literature that could provide courage, new values, a new world-view, human dignity, and agency [peran] for the individual within society. The aesthetic that emphasizes language and its employment is put to the service of a new orientation of the role [peranan] of the individual in an aspired-to society.4) It was this third type of literature that later became my field of creative activity.

Each work of literature is the autobiography of its author at a certain stage and in a certain context. Hence it is also the product of an individual and is individual in character. Presenting it to society is no different from contributing to the collectivity. Also in regard to the relations of power, and to the prevailing standard of culture, the writer's attitude as an individual is disseminated, aware of it or not. 5) To this point the duty of a writer is to make an evaluation and reevaluation of the establishment in every walk of life. This action is taken because the writer concerned is dissatisfied, and feels cornered, even oppressed by the establishment "in effect."6) He cries out, resists, even rebels. It is no accident if this writer--naturally type three--has been called an oppositionist, a rebel, even a revolutionary, alone in his muteness.

In states living with democracy for centuries, winning and losing in a clash of ideas is something normal. That does not mean that democracy is without flaws. Europe, while democratic in Europe itself, was on the contrary undemocratic in the countries it colonized. As a result, in the colonized countries that never tasted democracy, winning and losing in the clash of ideas can give birth to long-lasting resentment, arising from traditional concepts of personal prestige and patrimonial authority.

In Indonesia, the censoring of literary works was first known in the second decade of this century. Before that, censorship had been more directed at the mass media. And in accordance with the tradition of law, actions regarding press offenses were decided in court. The prohibition against the circulation of several works by Mas Marco Kartodikromo, untraditionally, was put into effect without legal procedures, and was carried out by native colonial officials locally. Prohibition and confiscation, also by colonial native officials, were once carried out against my father's work, though that was not a literary work but a text of lessons for elementary schools that did not follow the colonial curriculum.

Prohibition of a literary work is truly something extraordinary. [So it was] for centuries after the maritime kingdoms of Nusantara were shoved aside by the power of the West and became back-country principalities or agrarian villages; the Power of feudalism that was sustained solely by the peasant brought about the birth of a new mentality that deteriorated too. The court poets of Java consolidated the culture of "tepo seliro" (= knowing one's place), the awareness of one's social station vis a vis Power according to its hierarchy, from life within the family to the pinnacle of power. The use of euphemism (= High Javanese) up to the 7 levels "in effect" to match the hierarchy of Power, interpreted traditional culture more and more stuntedly. Therefore in Javanese culture the evaluation and reevaluation of culture has never taken place. It can happen only by using the Indonesian language, that if need be denies all euphemism: hence it is also in Indonesian literature that Power's censoring occurs.

As ideas from all corners of the world are absorbed by modern Indonesian society toward the end of the 20th century, their reflection can no longer possibly be blocked by a Power that is reluctant to grow up.7) In order to allow [those] people with the power of the state to sleep soundly without the need to improve themselves, the institution of censorship does indeed need to be established.

Java was "fated" to possess profitable geographic factors. Of all the islands of Indonesia, it was on Java that the inhabitants multiplied thanks to climatological factors that favored farming. It is no accident that the Dutch colonialists made Java an imperial center of their world outside Europe. On their departure, as Java remained the center of Indonesia, with its inhabitants [comprising] a majority out of all Indonesia, the introduction of a certain amount of Javanese traditional culture into the power of the state was quite unavoidable. One thing from Javanese traditional culture that was felt to oppress was "tepo seliro," in Power's present existence called, in English, "self-censorship." Seemingly Power is ashamed to use its original name. In this way, how people conceal their atavism becomes one of the facets of existence in modern Indonesia.

I am inclined to include the third type of literature with the literature of the avant garde. I deem writers of the third group to have the authenticity [kemurnian] to evaluate and reevaluate culture and the established Power. And as an individual alone [the writer] in return must endure alone the backlash from any other individual who feels his stability [kemapanan threatened.

So to what extent can a work of literature be a danger to the state? According to my personal opinion, no literary work, here [meaning] a story, has ever actually been a danger to the state. [A story] is written with a clear name, where it comes from is known, and also it clearly originates from only one individual who does not possess a troop of police, military, or even a troop of hired killers. He only tells of the possibility of a better life through models for the renovation of an establishment that is rotten, old, and out of luck.

In the meantime, any state can at any moment change its basis and its system, with or without works of avant- garde literature. Such changes have already been experienced by the Indonesian state itself, from liberal democracy to guided democracy and later Pancasila democracy, that is [during] the era of national independence after the collapse of the colonial state called the Netherlands Indies and the changeover to occupation by the Japanese militarists. During the period of liberal democracy in which the state was based on the Pancasila, the Pancasila did not get much attention; during the period of Guided Democracy when, with all the consequences [it implied], President Soekarno wished to be autonomous and to shake off the influence of and involvement with the superpowers' Cold War, the Pancasila was given more emphasis. Soekarno as the discoverer of the Pancasila never tired of explaining the Pancasila was mined from, among others, Sun Yat Sen's San Min Zhuyi,8) the Declaration of Independence of the United States, and the Communist Manifesto, in issues of social justice. In the time of Pancasila Democracy, which was signaled by the de- Soekarnoization movement, not only were the Pancasila's references no longer mentioned, there was even an effort by a New Order historian to fabricate a theory that the Pancasila did not originate with Soekarno.

Through all these changeovers the existence of a work of literature that conferred any influence was never proved. And indeed an avant-garde literature has practically not yet come into being. Indonesian works of literature have practically only just become descriptive in character. If nonetheless an avant garde came into being, it occurred under the oppression of Japanese militarism, in a rebellion as harsh as its suppression. The individual concerned, Chairil Anwar, in his poem "Aku [I]," declared: "I am an untamed beast /From its herd outcast." He refused to be treated by the Japanese as a farm animal, that must carry out Japanese orders only, and cut itself off from the rest. It was he himself who had to take responsibility for his work. The Kempeitai9) arrested and tortured him, though he was in fact later released. Ironically the society of readers, many of whom read and like that poem, generally do not connect it to the period of Japanese militarist occupation during which he created it.

My apologies if I only discuss Indonesian literature. Still, I believe that to speak about any particular literature is also to speak--although indirectly- -of regional and international literature at the same time, because each work of literature is the autobiography of an individual, one person out of the rest of humankind, who contributes his inner experience to the collectivity of humanity's experience.

Based on its history, Indonesia needs a large troop of writers from the avant garde. For centuries the common people paid on behalf10) of feudalism. With the victory of colonialism, the people then had to fund the running of colonialism as well. Although feudalism as a system was eliminated by the proclamation of independence, the character of its culture still lives on, and the power elite even tries to preserve it. It is avant-garde literature that offers evaluation, reevaluation, renovation, and naturally the courage to bear the risk alone.

Here it becomes clear that a story, a work of literature, is in no way dangerous to a state that at any time can change its basis and system. The literary works of avant-garde writers merely disturb the slumber of persons in power-elite circles, who fear that some time their hold over the common people may loosen. I myself, though coming from a family of freedom fighters and being myself a struggler for freedom as well, have over the 50 years of national independence actually suffered the loss of my personal freedom for as long as 33 1/2. 2 1/2 were stolen by the Dutch, nearly a year was stolen during the Old Order by the Power of the military, [which took another] 30 years during the New Order, among them 10 years of forced labor on Buru Island and 16 as livestock, being a citizen with the code "ET,"11) meaning a detainee outside of prison. As a writer, certainly I rebel against these circumstances. So in my works, I try to tell about particular stages in this nation's journey, and try to answer: why did this nation get to be this way?

That the works are forbidden to circulate in my own homeland at the request of several persons among the power elite, for me is no problem. The prohibitions in fact give surplus value to my works without Power being aware of it.

Perhaps there are some who are surprised, [wondering] why for me literature is so closely tied to politics. I will not reject that fact. In my view each person living in society, let alone in a nation, is always tied to politics. That a person accepts, rejects or affirms a particular citizenship is a political stance. That a person waves the flag of her nationality, is a political act. That a person pays taxes, is an acknowledgment of power, so it also means political obedience. Literature too can not be free of politics, since literature itself is brought into being by humanity. As long as there are human societies and Power that regulates or ruins them, each individual in them is tied to politics.

There once arose the belief that politics is dirty, hence literature must be kept separate from politics. Really, it is easy for politics to become dirty in the hands of and from the business of politicians who are dirty. If there are some that are dirty, surely there are also some that are not dirty. And that literature properly must be kept separate from politics actually emerges from the thoughts of the directors, whose politics is to be apolitical. Politics itself can not be limited in its meaning to a party system. It is every aspect of that which involves Power, and as long as society exists Power also exists, no matter the manner of its existence, dirty or clean. And it can be said that literature that "rejects" politics in reality is brought into being by those writers who are already established in the lap of the Power "in effect."

Jakarta, August 24, 1995.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. "An essay written to be delivered on September 4, 1995, in Manila, as part of a series in the program for the presentation of the 1995 Magsaysay Awards.... The title of the essay was at the request of the Ramon Magsaysay Award Foundation to the writer" (Hasta Mitra, ed.); later published in Suara Independen, no.04/I, September 1995. [back]

2. In this essay, Pramoedya plays with statements about awareness in which the subject (society, the writer, "Power") is indeterminate. [back]

3. Kekuasaan stretches to cover power, authority, domination and so forth. Pramoedya is playing with this broad meaning, and with Benedict Anderson's "Idea of Power in Javanese Culture," (in Language and Power, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990). Following Anderson's usage, I have capitalized "power" where it seemed appropriate. [back]

4. Masyarakat yang dicitakan. Compare to "imagined community." [back]

5. See note 2 above. [back]

6. Yang berlaku is a bit of officialese also meaning "prevailing," "applicable," "that applies" and so forth. On the one hand it is as unarguable as a parent answering "because" to a child's "why," yet the words presuppose an ending to the situation they describe. [back]

7. This nicely echoes the 1950 literary manifesto "Surat Kepertjajaan Gelanggang":

...Kebudajaan Indonesia ditetapkan oleh kesatuan ber-bagai2 rangsang suara jang disebabkan suara2 jang dilontarkan dari segala sudut dunia dan jang kemudian dilontarkan kembali dalam bentuk suara sendiri. Kami akan menentang segala usaha2 jang mempersempit dan menghalangi tidak betulnja pemeriksaan ukuran-nilai...." (Cited in Teeuw, Pokok dan Tokoh dalam Kesusastraan Indonesia Baru, Djakarta: P.T. Pembangunan, 1955, v.2, pp.15-6).
[Indonesian culture is determined by the unity of various vocal stimuli, that is evoked by voices thrown from all corners of the world and that later are thrown back in the form of a voice of its own. We will defy all efforts that constrain or obstruct falsely [?] the testing of standards.] [back]
8. The Three People's Principles: nationalism, democracy, and the people's livelihood. [back]

9. The Japanese military police. [back]

10. Membiayakan, in contrast to membiayai in the next sentence. [back]

11. Ex-tahanan politik: former political prisoner. [back]

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September 15, 2008

See the person, not the problem

Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim: 'See the person, not the problem'



She's one of Indonesia's most prolific short-story writers, with more than 300 published. Plus novels, poetry and a basket full of articles. For these she's collected several awards. When she's not writing she's pushing social and cultural causes.

All this makes Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim worthy of respect; add to this her work practices.

For Ratna is severely crippled and cannot write or use a keyboard; all her stories have to be dictated and transcribed.
The Jakarta Post contributor Duncan Graham
met the determined author at her home in Malang, East Java.

While the interviews for this story were being conducted Malang was gripped by a bizarre family tragedy.

A young mom who seems to have suffered emotional, domestic and financial problems -- and was clearly mentally unbalanced -- poisoned her four children, then herself.

Adding to the tragedy is that the mother (ironically named Mercy) used her cell phone to video the deaths of her youngsters. She then arranged their bodies neatly on the bed before committing suicide.

The local media published the pictures.

Don't bother plowing through newspaper archives for more details -- just wait for Ratna's next story.

"I'm thinking about it," she said. "The seed is definitely there. I have to get my ideas from newspapers and books. It's not easy getting around."

But she does, and has already visited Australia, the U.S. (where she had leadership training), and China. In some places mobility has been simpler than in her homeland.

In many Western nations pavements should be smooth and level, and public buildings must have wheelchair-access ramps and wide doors for the physically challenged.

Ratna has been campaigning for similar laws in Indonesia for decades. Back in 1994 she was given a national award by then President Soeharto for her agitation on behalf of the disabled -- arguing that the public should see the person, not the problem, and that all citizens have the right to use public space.

But architects and town planners remain largely unconcerned at the plight of Indonesia's handicapped: The legislation is still not in place, ensuring the disabled usually stay indoors.

"I should start a political party," a frustrated Ratna grumbled as an aside. "There are 10 million disabled voters in Indonesia. Maybe then the lawmakers would start to pay attention."

It's not just the indifference of politicians that keeps the crippled out of sight. To have a child who is labeled abnormal is often regarded as a curse, proof to the superstitious that the family has committed some grave sin.

Fortunately for Ratna, her parents -- who came from Padang in West Sumatra, a region with a reputation for practicing heavy-duty Islam -- were open minded, progressive and liberal.

"I was born in 1949 and had a good and happy childhood," she said. "I could swim and loved playing outside. I was considered a tomboy."

Supportive home environment

When she was about 10 tragedy struck. At first it was thought she'd contracted polio, though later diagnoses indicate it may be rickets, a disease that softens bones. Whatever the cause, she lost the use of her limbs and has had to rely on others for her daily needs.

"For the first five years or so I was very angry -- particularly with God because everyone else in the family was so fit," she said.

"All my five sisters were beautiful. However, I think I've only written one story expressing that anger, and I can't remember the title.

"My mother, Siti Bidasari, died only five years ago. She lived long enough to see and enjoy her daughter's success. I'm not trying to be immodest, but she was very proud of me.

"When I was young she told me: 'You cannot walk, but you can write. Not everyone who walks can write. You will do much more than other people because God has given you brains to use.'

"It's true that I may not have become a writer if I hadn't been disabled. I love plants and all living things, and I wanted to become a farmer.

"God made me like this so I could be writer. Originally I wrote for myself -- and to please my parents, to show them that I could do other things. I didn't want them crying because I was sick."

The home environment was ideal. Dad, Saleh Ibrahim, was fluent in numerous languages, an idealistic lawyer who quit his profession over issues of principle to become a businessman.

The family did well -- it owned a major cinema and the house was full of books. If it was a toss-up between spending on haberdashery or hardbacks the novels usually won.

It was also a remarkably tolerant environment. Young Ratna was sent to a Christian school, liked some of the rituals and asked her parents if they could celebrate Christmas with a tree. They agreed -- neither did they prohibit her from talking to the prostitutes at a nearby brothel.

"I was taught not to see people for their faults," she said, "but to look at their character, piece by piece." It's a quality she has taken into her literature.

Mom was an admirer of intellectual and diplomat Agus Salim who also came from Padang. He was one of the founders of modern Indonesia and a writer of the Constitution who stressed the value of education.

While other kids were running the streets, kicking balls and testing the limits of their bodies and the physical environment, Ratna was exploring the limitless world of imagination.

She was exposed to the works of Anton Chekhov, Guy de Maupassant, Virginia Woolf, Thomas Hardy, Alexandre Dumas and others. Her parents would suggest books she might like -- including Karl Marx's manifesto Das Kapital. This was before Soeharto introduced a ban on all works by communists.

"My parents said they would stand by me and visit me in jail if I decided to join the PKI (Indonesian Communist Party), but they'd disown me if I was imprisoned for corruption," she said.

She didn't become a Red, but Marx influenced her to consider the plight of the poor, marginalized and dispossessed -- the people who now feature in her stories.

Ratna went to Malang's Brawijaya University where her friends had to carry her up stairs to lectures. She wanted to learn more about human psychology but lost interest and channeled her energies into writing and activism.

For 13 years she chaired a non-government organization (NGO) for disabled people, then founded an NGO concerned with environmental issues.

She also works for Yayasan Kebudayaan Panjoeng, a cultural foundation to stimulate and preserve local history and the arts.

Her once-secluded 93-year-old home in central Malang is now overshadowed by a hotel on one side, and a high school on the other. When prayers and public announcements are made on what must be East Java's most raucous and deafening sound system, the mind hibernates for self-protection.

It hardly seems the ideal environment for creativity, but Ratna resting on a bed in her library while she structures her next sentence to be transcribed by secretary and poet Ragil Sukriwul, doesn't seem to mind. She has many visitors who bring her stories that may eventually find a way into her work.

Then there are the students seeking the magic elixir: "Please tell me how to write." Ratna's answer is blunt and direct: "Just do it!"

So what sort of courses should they take? "Education is not the same as intelligence."

The 'Cinderella complex'

Relationships between the sexes are a major theme in her stories, with situations growing out of male domination of women in a society that's overwhelmingly dogmatic and masculine, and often violent.

Her female characters are usually semi-urban Muslims struggling with life and injustice, battling to raise families while maintaining a sense of self-worth. Their situations are real. Her popularity depends on her readers identifying with the characters and their daily lives. Surprisingly, many of her admirers are men.

There are two main streams of women's literature in Indonesia, the traditional romantic novel ("love lit.") and the new kid on the shelves, sastra wangi (literally "perfumed writing"), known elsewhere as "chick lit.".

Ratna rejects both as "pop writing". Despite her distaste, she recognizes that the boom in sastra wangi featuring metropolitan teens coming to grips with their sexuality is encouraging young women to learn more about their bodies, human nature and the world they've inherited.

"Better read than gossip," she conceded.

The success of these novelettes (check the number of titles in your nearest bookstore) clearly shows there's a great need among curious youngsters constrained by culture and imposed taboos.

But it's the open discussion of sex that worries the 58-year old author.

"Sex belongs to God," she said. "It's a matter between two souls, it's not an issue that should be discussed in the open, nor treated as vulgar, which is how it's handled by men."

She lumps feminism into the same category because of the stress on sex -- though in a Western reading of her work she is clearly a feminist writer striving to empower.

The traditional romantic novel is given the flick because it reinforces what Ratna calls the "Cinderella complex".

This has a passive young woman waiting for some bloke to rescue her from hardships, then transport her to an abode of bliss. How he's constructed this is of no concern to author or reader.

In this genre the woman does little more than hang around, braid her locks, keep her legs together till marriage and look enchanting. She doesn't have to use her initiative or generate ideas.

In fact any outburst of intelligence would probably frighten away Mr Right who has a fixation on body, not brains.

Sadly, claims Ratna, Indonesia is an "autistic country." Most women still believe in the Cinderella fantasy, even as they pummel clothes in streambeds, hump water up hills and fall pregnant too early and too often to male chauvinists.

She also attacks public perceptions of Islam as a religion that oppresses women. "People confuse culture with religion," she said.

"Islam protects women's rights. It's the culture that creates the role of women in society.

"I want my readers to think about women, how they are treated, to understand their fate. I want to talk humanity -- not feminism or individualism and selfishness.

"Our keraton (Javanese regal) culture promotes mutual support. Human beings were created to help each other. Readers will get what they want from my books."


cited from The Jakarta Post, Sunday, June 17, 2007

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September 11, 2008

Child poet touches all around him

Child poet touches all around him



Poet Abdurahman Faiz will be busy this summer.

His sixth book, Nadya, Kisah Dari Negeri Yang Menggigil (Nadya, Stories from a Shivering Nation), comes out in July.

Once the book is released, he will travel about Jakarta the rest of the month, meeting his fans and signing their purchases. Faiz has got just a few weeks to promote this latest work, for in August he begins sixth grade at school.

To read a Faiz collection is to walk Jakarta's streets. It is to ponder headlines, to question, to belong. Family, beggars, God, war, faith, disaster, and hope are just a sampling of the topics within his pages.

His sixth book deals with Indonesian society and politics and is, according to the author, infused with optimism.

Faiz says he is drawn to poetry because poems are short, meaningful and can often be finished spontaneously in one go.

Some he completes within minutes, while his more stubborn pieces can demand a month or two. His Javanese father, Tomi, explains in English, "He doesn't have a finishing target, so he just writes when he has ideas."

The poet says he does not worry about writer's block. When the affliction hits him, Faiz simply goes and plays, confident that the ideas will return. They always do.

He says that he finds ideas everywhere, from all that he sees and hears. He is primarily driven to the keyboard by social problems that he witnesses or reads or hears about.

When an idea comes, he records it in his cell phone for later retrieval.

Faiz writes with a clear vision. He knows what needs to be said and will not be satisfied until his message is lucid and strong. He recalls that he has had to fight his editors in order to maintain the integrity and precision of his work.

If even a single word is altered, he feels the work is no longer his and does not accept it. His Acehnese mother, Helvi, a university lecturer, says Faiz remembers every word he writes and is tenacious when it comes to protecting each and every one of them.


*****


On the surface, Faiz is a rather ordinary, almost-12-year-old child. Though smiling and friendly, he is noticeably less-than-comfortable as we talk in his family's modest living room.

He frequently pauses and looks toward the ceiling in search of words. His fingers twist and knot together between his rocking knees. He explains, in Indonesian, that he writes better than he speaks.

When not writing, he is just a boy. He enjoys playing basketball, riding his bike around his Depok neighborhood, reading automobile magazines and books such as Harry Potter and playing computer games.

He spends a lot of time at the computer. Never having liked writing by hand, he took to the keyboard at the age of five. Now he writes poems and updates his blog just about daily. Tomi, a television-news producer, says in English that Faiz is a "completely modern boy".

Readers of his work come from all walks of life: politicians, fellow-writers, academics and the public at large. President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono considers Faiz's work to be "very touching."

Political and religious leader Amien Rais calls Faiz "a deeply thoughtful writer," while former president Megawati Soekarnoputri hopes his work will "inspire and give spirit to future generations."

Poet Agus R Sarjono says that Faiz' "worry about social situations is his fresh style." Professor Riris T. Sarumpaet finds Faiz' "concern to be pure, simple, transparent and deeply sensitive."

One of his poems so clearly demonstrates the need for governmental transparency that it is used by Masyarakat Transparasi Indonesia (the Society for Transparency of Indonesia), in its anticorruption campaign.

Faiz' first book, Untuk Bunda dan Dunia (For Mother and Earth), has been reprinted 10 times since it came out in 2004. Altogether, his books have sold around 80,000 copies.

Later in the interview, Faiz relaxes and shows me around the family's upstairs office. The wall next to the computer is nearly completely covered with writing and poetry awards that he has won and framed clippings from newspapers and magazines that have featured the boy poet.

Faiz says that he wishes there were more young authors in Indonesia. He suggests that children who would like to write keep diaries, play scrabble, read a lot, observe their surroundings and always ask questions.

He believes it is vital that writers are sensitive to the surrounding world. Faiz possesses that sensitivity -- he suffers from it.

Helvi says that her son is so painfully aware that he used to cry whenever he witnessed or learned of sorrow. Now, he crafts that raw openness into his art and uses it to affect change.

He donates half of each royalty check to his two foster brothers in North Jakarta and Aceh's tsunami victims.

As he shows me his blog, I think to myself that he is fortunate the room still has three bare walls.

I get the feeling he is going to need them.

Abdurahman Faiz's blog is at http://masfaiz.multiply.com/


Doaku Hari Ini
(My Prayer for Today)


My Lord
Give me your time
To grow in the road of love
A seedling
In all along the road of my parents
In all along the road of my Indonesia
In all along the road to you


Amen


July 2003

(translated by Rafi Hayati and Andrew Greene)



Pengungsi di Negeri Sendiri
(Refugee in Their Own Country)


No one dances any longer
Between the filthy tents
Over here
Only suffering
Caught in our eye
And our ear


Not even one song
We ever sing anymore
Only teardrops sing
Between hunger, thirst
Changing seasons


Have you noticed this, my brother?



October, 2003

(translated by Rafi Hayati and Andrew Greene)
Cited from The Jakarta Post, Sunday, June 24, 2007


Andrew Greene is director of Academic Colleges Group English Jakarta (ACG). If you have any questions about English language courses or in-company training you can contact him at Andy.Greene@acgedu.com or 780-5636. His personal blog can be found at http://writerinjakarta.blogspot.com.

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September 08, 2008

The poet of patriotism

Toto: The poet of patriotism


cited from The Jakarta Post, Thursday, October 11, 2007


Elementary school students often recite the poem Pahlawan Tak Dikenal (Unsung Heroes) in front of their class or during national day ceremonies.

"Sepuluh tahun yang lalu dia terbaring(He lay down on the ground 10 years ago)/Tetapi bukan tidur sayang(but, he was not sleeping, dear)/Sebuah lubang peluru bundar di dadanya(A round bullet hole in his chest/Senyum bekunya mau berkata, kita sedang perang/(his frozen smile says we are at war)."

Acclaimed poet Toto Sudarto Bachtiar, who died Tuesday of a heart attack, wrote the above poem in 1955 to remember a heroic battle on Nov. 10, 1945, in Surabaya, East Java.

Besides Unsung Heroes, Toto who was born on Oct. 12, 1929, in Cirebon, West Java, wrote many famous patriotic poems, including Tentang Kemerdekaan (About Independence) and Ode.

But Toto poem's were not only about blood and sacrifice. Gadis Peminta-minta (Beggar Girl) is about the frustrations of living in a big city.

In 1987 it was put to music and included in a compilation album that was recorded with the support of culture and education minister Fuad Hassan.

The album was then distributed to elementary schools across the country in an effort to give students a greater appreciation of poetry.

Toto also translated into Indonesian the works of great writers including Jean Paul Sartre, Anton Chekhov and Ernest Hemingway.

His wife, Zinar, said Tuesday that Toto, who was buried in the family's burial plot in Gumuruh Bandung, had been working on a translation of Leo Tolstoy's masterpiece War and Peace.

Toto was not an unsung hero as his poems will be remembered by many people. They remind us of the humbling sacrifice and bravery of the men and women who have served this nation. ***

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August 27, 2008

The lost biography of a young poet

Dina Oktaviani: The lost biography of a young poet


City lights picked me up/and we tried to forget all the things/that had shredded the solitude back in that room//we may never understand/why old calendars/could change history/as easily and quickly as a highway rush

How do you feel after reading the lines above? How would you feel if you were told that the verse, an excerpt from a poem titled Silent Calendars, was written by a 15 year old? Dina Oktaviani composed it in February 2001. She had never before submitted her work to a national publication, but a year after Silent Calendars was written, Media Indonesia decided to print it in its Sunday edition, along with her other poems.

And how did she feel about it? "I was happy about the pay," she said, laughing. "But seriously, back then, I had to pay my own school fees, and I enjoyed spending money. My parents were proud too. They said they didn't want me to be an artist, but they bragged about my printed poems to the neighbors anyway."

Born in Tanjungkarang, Bandar Lampung, on Oct. 11, 1985, Dina used to dream about being a spy. Today, the mother of a 3-year-old boy has written poems and short stories for various publications, and published two books, Como Un Sue¤o (anthology of short stories, Orakel, 2005), and Biografi Kehilangan (A Biography of Losses, anthology of poems, Insist Press, 2006). Her piece of poetry Hantu-hantu Tanjungkarang (The Ghosts of Tanjungkarang) was recently included in 100 Puisi Indonesia Terbaik 2008 (100 Best Indonesian Poems 2008, Gramedia Pustaka Utama).

In regard to Dina's poems, acclaimed poet Sapardi Djoko Damono commented on the back cover of Biografi Kehilangan: "She entices us to experience the secrets of life in unique ways, ways that have never been captured by other poets. Her experiences are arranged in sharp metaphors and imageries, a characteristic of modern poetry."

Sitting in a quiet cafe in Yogyakarta, smoking clove cigarettes and occasionally taking a sip of her iced lemon tea, Dina recalled falling in love with literature, particularly poetry. It all started in junior high school.

"In third grade, I watched a play that made me want to continue my studies at a school that had a theater group. One day, the play's director came to my school and staged a production, and I found out that Teater Satu, his theater group, had just formed a theater forum for senior high students. I often came to the forum, and I guess Iswadi Pratama, the director, observed my passion for theater and asked me to join the group. A few weeks later, he came to me and whispered in my ear: 'Would you like to learn about poetry?'" Dina embraced the opportunity, despite all the rules her mentor had laid out for her.

"I wasn't allowed to read teen magazines or comics. I couldn't watch sinetrons or band gigs. Oh, I wasn't allowed to have a boyfriend either. Falling in love was OK, but not boyfriends. After my poems were published in Media Indonesia and Republika, he then said I could break all of those rules, that I was free to do all the things that had been out of my reach in the last nine months. But I was no longer able to enjoy the things that I had deprived myself of," she said with a weak smile.

It was a coincidence that her mentor was also an editor with the Lampung Post. "Sometimes he asked me to edit the work of his reporters. And then he suggested that my friends from the theater forum and I work on a supplementary page for teenagers. My friends got bored, so I did the whole thing myself."

However, she sometimes misused the column for her own satisfaction and benefits. "I would make up questions and answers for the discussion section, though I was supposed to get the answers from real people. I was so selfish, I wanted people to read nobody else's opinions but mine. I also wrote poems under my friends' younger brothers' or sisters' names. When it was time for payment, I borrowed their IDs and told the treasurer's desk that those kids had asked me to get the money for them. I was such a criminal."

Dina took out a laptop from her bag. "Hey, you have a laptop too, don't you? This place has got a wireless connection. Let's chat via Yahoo Messenger," she said in a playful tone, adding, "just for the hell of it."

Time for the next question, through the internet, just for the hell of it: Why Yogyakarta?

After graduating from her senior high school in Lampung, Dina went to Jakarta to study French at the Jakarta State University. Realizing she could learn much more from books than from her French classes, she decided that Yogyakarta was the right place for her. "I had imagined Yogya to be a quiet place, and it turned out to be true. Here I also found BlockNot Poetry, which offered more than I had expected." Blocknot was a journal that published short stories and poems. At the end of 2003, Dina became one of its editors.

Since writing is her passion, does Dina call herself a writer, someone who turns writing into a primary source of income? "I do other sorts of jobs. Translating pays quite well, and I also take short-term projects like joining a creative team for events, etcetera. But I had 'writer' typed in the occupation column of my ID card. It wasn't easy. I had a quarrel with the village official. He insisted that 'writer' wasn't an occupation, so I told him: Women get to have 'housewife' written on their ID card. Is that an occupation? Do women get paid for being a wife and a mother? I do have other jobs, but unless you are ready to have me here every month to get my occupation column changed, just put 'writer' there. It's my permanent job."

Dina admitted to being more of a poet than a writer. Imagine the argument she would have to come up with for putting "poet" in the occupation column.


Daniel Rose
cited The Jakarta Post, Sunday, May 11, 2008

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August 12, 2008

A Novel Idea

A novel idea

Cited from The Jakarta Post, Friday, January 26, 2001

I must thank you for publishing a letter regarding the initially somewhat bizarre notion of opening a special cemetery to accommodate "heroic" civil servants (The Jakarta Post, Jan. 23, 2001).

It was such a novel idea that I was prompted by idle curiosity and a little time on my hands to look up the word hero to see if it could in fact be applied routinely to civil servants who die while working, as the writer suggests. Here is what I found:

hero
[hj'ro], noun, a man of distinguished bravery; any illustrious person; a person reverenced and idealized; the principal male figure, or the one whose life is the thread of the story, in a history, work of fiction, play, film, etc.; originally a man of superhuman powers, a demigod:

heroine [her'o-in], a female hero.

Sadly for your contributor, the current definition does not seem to indicate that people who die while doing what they are paid to do should be awarded this title. Indeed, if these definitions are indeed accurate, occupancy rates in any new heroes' cemetery might be extremely low as few, if any candidates would seem to qualify.

However, it would be tragic if a hero or heroine, from whatever background, was to die and we had nowhere to put them. I therefore give this initially peculiar and yet ultimately charming notion my qualified support.

In order to be both fair and practical, I feel it would be better not to limit the type of occupant by career background. More importantly, I would urge those whose job it is to heroize, to apply the definitions perhaps more carefully than has hitherto been the case -- otherwise, almost anyone could become a hero and the project could become extremely costly. Real heroes and heroines would seem to be sadly rather thin on the ground just now.

ROSS GULLIVER

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July 29, 2008

Saint Rosa of Indonesian Poetry

Dorothea Rosa Herliany: 'Saint Rosa' of Indonesian poetry

The Jakarta Post, Sunday, December 17, 2006

Harry Aveling, Contributor, Jakarta

Dorothea Rosa Herliany may not be a saint, but she is one of Indonesia's most praised poets, both at home and abroad.

Last month, she received the prestigious 2006 Khatulistiwa Literary Award for Poetry. The award acknowledges her latest book Santa Rosa/Saint Rosa, first published in 2005.

The bilingual volume contains Rosa's latest poetry in Bahasa Indonesia with English translations. There is a preface by senior Indonesian woman poet Toety Heraty, and an afterword by the late Dami Toda, both with English translations as well.

Canadian artist Ken Pattern, a long-time Jakarta resident, provided the stunning lithography that illustrated the first printing.

The poetry was written between 2002 and 2004 in places as diverse as Japan, Europe, America and Australia.

As Toda says: "Various languages and panoramas change shape in their itinerary through the ear and the eye. But poetry does not change its map or time when it sits enthroned in the mind."

Their subject matter includes universal religious themes, human relationships, gender equality, social norms and the nature of history; the writing reveals a struggle to understand human experience in all its reality -- not as an ideal but as a fact that reveals profound suffering and hurt, without, apparently, any hope of redemption.

Leading Australian poet Judith Rodriguez has described Saint Rosa as an "exceptional" volume. These are, she said, "texts of exceptional difficulty and exceptional interest". Rodriguez describes the poems as "highly colored, morbid, even shocking" and significant for their "metaphorical tours de force and paradoxical glories of unwilling illuminations".

In Rodriguez' opinion, Saint Rosa "confirms the importance of this notable poet" and is "a notable addition to world poetry".

Rosa's place in world poetry will become more obvious in 2007 with the publication of her previous book Kill the Radio: Sebuah Radio Kumatikan (2001) by Arc Publications in England.

In a new preface to Kill the Radio, British poet Linda France writes: "The energy and violence expressed in the title of the collection runs through the work like a ruptured vein, fragile and vulnerable but necessary for survival."

The destructiveness and chaos of the outside world broadcast on the radio summons a reaction of echoing violence, filtered through irony. Many of the poems use this mirroring effect, the consciousness of the individual poem reflecting back what it sees and experiences.

The "Self" contained in the poems is ill at ease, often "trapped", "always hurrying ... searching and never finding".

Underneath this troubled surface there is so much tenderness and openness, in shocking contrast to the "Other", represented by the world of politics and war, that the speaker of the poems is aware she is in danger of annihilation.

Saint Rosa and Kill the Radio are both currently being reprinted in new formats by the original publisher, IndonesiaTera, and is expected to be available in bookshops shortly.

They are essential reading for those who love Indonesian literature, and for all who want to understand this country better.

The writer is a scholar and translator of Indonesian literature, including the poetry of Dorothea Rosa Herliany. In 2006, he served as Visiting Professor of Translation Studies at the University of Indonesia.

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