We Struggle Through Ephemeras: Thoughts on Revolusi! at Rijksmuseum
Travel has always been a purposeful activity for myself. Not only is it a time to unwind a bit from the hustle and bustle of life, it is when I can connect to myself and my identity. Having a common history intertwined with each other for more than 3 centuries, Netherlands seems to be a fitting place for me to trail back my identity as an Indonesian – through a visit to Rijksmuseum in one afternoon.
Since February 2022, Rijksmuseum holds a temporary exhibition titled Revolusi! Indonesia Independent. Revolusi! centres around stories of people in the Indonesian Revolusi era (1946-1949) through their mostly firsthand experiences via objects and reports. Objects found on the display include photographs and documents made possible with a partnership with The National Archives of Netherlands and loans with several institutes in The Netherlands and Indonesia. [1]
Revolusi! opens with us witnessing what we Indonesians reckon as a sacred-turned-myth moment. A projection shows the so-called only documentation of Indonesian independence taken by Frans Soemarto Mendur. In the centre is a podium that displays one of the original photos.
“‘We, the people of Indonesia, hereby declare the independence of Indonesia...’ It was around 10 a.m. on 17 August 1945, just two days after World War Two in Asia and the Japanese occupation came to an end. With these words, spoken by the nationalist leader Sukarno, Indonesia became an independent country, separate from the Netherlands,” the text explains. “From Jakarta, news of the declaration of independence took days and even weeks to spread throughout the population. Large parts of the archipelago readily embraced the idea of a free Indonesia…”
How can I not be moved by such things unveiled on land ten thousand kilometres away? I learned from history books that the proclamation of Indonesia's independence is a crucial moment – the story is repeated every year through the seconds of the proclamation that are broadcast on national television and in every part of Indonesia.
When we thought that it was the end of our struggle from colonialism, the proclamation marked a new era for Indonesians, as “... It would take another four and a half years of conflict to finally decide the country’s future.”
Rijksmuseum claims that this exhibition is a distinctive one as it involves discussions and exchanges with people outside of Rijksmuseum, including the descendants of the people who went through the Indonesian Revolution. This results in very raw and personal displays that were laden throughout the entire experience.
As it was argued, this exhibition has let me make acquaintances with plenty of figures in Revolusi through their writings, belongings, and every object that comes and goes in their lives. Their stories were once untold, never gained attention, or even denied – a silence that is painful to many to this day.
For instance, a room tells the story of Nasrudin, one of thousands of young Indonesian soldiers who defended Indonesian independence months and years following the declaration. During his struggle, he carried a friendship book with him, containing photos of his family and comrades.
On the other side of the wall, Letty Kwee tells a different perspective of a Chinese-Indonesian under the revolution era through a baby book made for her daughter, Tjoe. We get to see how Chinese communities in Indonesia fell victim to violence throughout the independence struggle.
My favourite part of the exhibition goes to a chamber of propaganda ephemeras – posters, flyers, and many other trinkets produced as a tool during the revolution era. The posters collection was taken from a catalogue by PTPI (Pusat Tenaga Pelukis Indonesia/ Powerhouse for Indonesian Painters) ‘Kami Berdjuang Dengen Poster’/ We Struggle with Posters published in November 1947 [Source].
The catalogue provides Indonesian Republican visual propaganda, “a sampling of the Republic’s political aspirations and ambitions: internationally oriented, aiming at the unification of the islands and people of Indonesia, ready for the construction of a modern country, and fighting to defend Indonesian independence against the (mostly Dutch) forces threatening that freedom.”
The designs are versatile – mostly made with stencil in a workshop, as shown in a series of photographs by Dutch photographer Cas Oorthuys. Further observation of the photographs also suggest that the PTPI posters collection was then turned into an exhibition held in the Kedu region of Central Java in 1946/1947.
Another artists’ collective featured in the propaganda showcase is Seniman Indonesia Muda (SIM, Young Indonesian Artists). PTPI and SIM are examples of the more internationally oriented and educated artists who worked on the designs and were promoted by official information services throughout Indonesia.
Juxtaposed with the posters produced by these collectives, laid guerilla type propaganda collaterals seized by NEFIS (Netherlands Forces Intelligence Service) – a secret service founded in the Second World War by the Dutch East Indies government-in-exile in Australia. It was formed with a mission to gather intelligence about the former Dutch East Indies and pass it on to the Allied forces at war with Japan during that time.
I can conclude that looking at these ephemeras I can tell that the struggle of the Revolution belongs to everyone. The yearning to be free as a nation is a dream of anybody.
This exhibition suffered from backlash even before it even opened. The curators faced two opposing legal complaints in The Netherlands that was sparked by the debate over the use of the word ‘Bersiap’ following a strong objection from one of its Indonesian curators Bonnie Triyana. ‘Bersiap’ is a term referring to anti-colonial mass violence inflicted by the colonised against Dutch colonisers and their assumed allies. Bonnie argues that the use of the word ‘Bersiap’ is racist.
Ariel Heryanto in his opinion piece agreed with the claim that the phrase is “[..] problematic oversimplifying Indonesian-Dutch history as ‘good vs evil’ or ‘us vs them’”, and “erases important events and people in this period that do not fit either of the 2 opposing categories”. In reality, the perpetrators of ‘Bersiap’ are diverse and not always easily identified – along with their motives and victims.
Despite the sparked debates, Rijksmuseum hopes that this exhibition will provide an impetus to enrich the nation’s gaze on the past with more personal experiences – including the stories of people in the national histories of the Netherlands and Indonesia that were previously denied proper attention.
Footnotes
[1] Loans have been committed by Affandi Museum Yogyakarta, Galeri Nasional of Indonesia, Jakarta Art Council, Museum Seni Rupa Jakarta, Museum Penerangan Jakarta, Museum Universtas Pelita Harapan Tangerang, Imperial War Museum London, National Library of Australia, Tropenmuseum Amsterdam, University Library Leiden, Museum Bronbeek Arnhem, The National Archives of the Netherlands, Internationaal Instituut voor Sociale Geschiedenis Amsterdam, Nationaal Museum voor Wereldculturen, Nationaal Militair Museum, and private collections and families.