Through Indonesia’s mirror
Nations have always watched one another. What happens in one becomes a mirror for the other. In that sense, peoples of different countries often see themselves through the lens of their neighbors’ experiences and actions. What they take from these mirror images, however, and how long it will take them to change the course of events in their own societies, cannot be predicted with certainty.
The 1896 Philippine revolution and the 1898 declaration of independence from Spain showed Indonesians what it would take to free themselves from the Dutch, who had ruled their country for three and a half centuries. Fifty years later, taking advantage of the realignments in the world after World War II, they swiftly declared their own independence.
In his novel Child of All Nations, Indonesia’s foremost novelist Pramoedya Ananta Toer wrote through one of his characters: “The Filipinos are also great teachers for the other conquered peoples of Asia. They were the founders of the first Asian republic. And it collapsed. A great historical experiment…. The Spaniards and Americans – their war – it was all an act. There was no conflict between them; it was all to do with letting the Spaniards sell the Filipino people to the United States without having to lose face before the eyes of the world.”
Something similar happened about a hundred years later. In 1986, when the Marcos dictatorship collapsed, Indonesian activists looked admiringly at what Filipinos had done — though with some wariness about the possible role of foreign hands in times of instability. Their own Edsa moment came in the wake of the 1997 Asian financial crisis, when people realized how the corruption and abuses of the Suharto dictatorship had left their country helpless in the face of regional turmoil despite its abundant resources. Suharto’s “New Order” regime, and the military that sustained it, finally fell in 1998.
Today, it seems the Indonesians are showing us what it means to vent public fury over betrayal by leaders. While the immediate circumstances differ, the motifs of corruption and shameless privilege mirror the two countries’ shared misfortune.
The current Indonesian crisis is perhaps the most serious since the 1997–1998 riots. Memories of that period, when dormant anti-Chinese sentiments were reignited, inevitably inform today’s protests. That is why the world is watching closely as rampaging protesters loot the homes of politicians and set fire to public buildings. Indonesia’s volatility stems from the many fault lines that have historically divided the nation — race, ethnicity, class, regional identity, ideology. By comparison, the Filipino response to political crisis has been far milder.
In Indonesia, the trigger was the $3,000 monthly housing allowance legislators were receiving on top of their salaries — an unconscionable privilege amid low wages and soaring prices. The amount is a pittance compared to the untold privileges — SUVs, bodyguards, perks, travel allowances — that our own legislators and officials routinely enjoy.
Here, the call for accountability for substandard and non-existent public works projects was ironically first sounded by President Marcos himself during his State of the Nation Address last July. The backdrop was the recurrent flooding and evident failure of costly flood control structures. His “mahiya naman kayo” message was aimed at admonishing politicians and their favorite contractors to temper their greed. No one believed he was launching a government-wide anti-corruption campaign.
I still don’t think Mr. Marcos intended a crusade, but he was lucky to speak about corruption at the right time. Unlike Indonesia’s President Prabowo, now a target of protests, Marcos can claim he started the call for reform and has followed through by revamping the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH). Note how newly appointed DPWH secretary Vince Dizon attributes all his moves to direct orders from the President.
Unlike in Indonesia, corruption and privilege here remained largely opaque until the Discaya couple and the “nepo babies” (offspring of the new breed of “politicontractors”) gave the enemy a face. Their shameless flaunting of opulence on social media, pieced together by netizens in retroactive disgust, made them lightning rods for public anger.
But the real face of corruption has yet to be exposed. It is embedded in the elaborate system that allows a few to transfer much of the nation’s wealth into their pockets — by both illegal and legal means.
