“Are you coming with me to the protest?”
“No, I’m gonna stay and work, holding the economy together,” said my husband half-jokingly, on the fateful August 22nd, the day DPR was going to ratify the expedited—hence problematic—revision of the Pilkada law.*
I rolled my eyes (lovingly), then hugged and kissed him good bye. Ten years ago we would’ve switched positions—his old friends from college days would’ve expected that he’d not only join, but also help organize (si paling anak kastrat). On the MRT, I figured people turned their back today for a few very different reasons:
The first one, the old fashioned, is pure naïveté—the oh-so-blissful ignorance. Being shielded away from the throbbing anger and fear from actually understanding what’s going on. Lacking the historical references to realize how worrying it is to have a coalition almost without opposition. Not being bothered by incompetent candidates being given the highway to run for office because they are related to power. Immovable by the fact that we may have catastrophic public policy made by wrongly motivated decision makers. There will come a time, I hope, when knowledge touches them and turn everything around.
The second one, however, runs deeper—it’s that of disillusionment. You know exactly how critical the situation is, but you’ve been let down one too many times by your own expectations. Having faith in a leader just to be disappointed again and again. Wondering if it were you (???) or them (definitely them). Having tried, given it all your might, just to find yourself beaten to the ground at the end. Feeling a lot like banging your head against a wall—wishing it breaks before your head does. Another day, another ‘good leader’ gets corrupted by the system. Waiting for a different game altogether, some kind of disruption, a new window for change.
But mine is neither, it’s a completely different monster altogether. I cannot—as I could have 10 years ago—say with a straight face that I care. It is very possible that I don’t anymore. It is not that I have been let down ‘by the system’ (I’m smart enough to manage my expectations since day one), but by the very people I was trying to—for lack of better word—help. The way that we self sabotage into our own doom, the few times that people brought me down. If I’m being honest, with my privilege I probably would have survived this impending regime even without doing anything.
And yet I moved, still.
Against reason, I find myself weeping together with the other Kamisan protesters in front of the Presidential Palace that late afternoon, singing, “Pasti menang, harus menang… Rakyat berjuang pasti menang.” as the sun was poetically setting behind our backs.
Perhaps it was simply out of a muscle memory. I do not know, could not, respond in any other way. When I feel helpless, I show up. When I feel disgusted by injustice, I speak up. When there is work to be done, I make a to do list. Not always through grand gestures, but just enough to make me feel less in despair and sleep better at night.
Perhaps it was because I wasn’t alone. Between the Think Policy team and Bijak Demokrasi community, I had endless supply of energy and camaraderie. It simply felt unnatural to stand still. Literally everyone is taking their part: standing in front of a crowd, telling their stories, spreading awareness. Maybe that’s why they call it a movement—it was supposed to compel you to move, making it impossible to do otherwise.
Perhaps we have reached a new boiling point. We have seen corrupt leaders before, but not like this. People protesting for the first time in their lives, public figures too angry not to join the crowd. I don’t remember it being like this before. But we may lose this momentum— it is imperative that we do not lose sight of the long horizon.
What is the bigger picture?
Seperti cinta, demokrasi harus diusahakan. It’s a journey of making democracy work. I too, thought that it was good enough that we get to vote. But no, there is such thing as a quality democracy and we are far from it. Ensuring everyone’s participation is hard work. Doing civic and political education properly is hard work. Reforming the political parties? Still seems impossible without a black swan event.
It seems like a losing game, but tell me, is there any other way to be than to try?
We deserve better.
Afu's Conundrum Journal 