The Blood of the People: Revolution and the End of Traditional Rule in Northern Sumatra

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

Under the colonial umbrella the peoples of northern Sumatra, like those of neighbouring Malaysia, retained an extravagant array of traditional rulers—sultans, rajas, datuks and uleebalangs. In sharp contrast to its Malaysian counterparts, however, this ruling class met a violent end in Sumatra in 1945-6. This book examines the reasons why this region broke so sharply with its past in what came to be known as its 'social revolution'. A t the same time this is a case study of the Indonesian national revolution, hitherto primarily seen from the viewpoint of Java, in an important region of great ethnic complexity. For some ethnic groups the revolution represented a liberating, popular, peasantsupported movement. Others saw themselves as victims of a revolution made by outsiders. In Malaysia the balance between a Malay traditional elite and immigrant ethnic groups was similar to that in Sumatra, yet it acted as a barrier to revolutionary change. In more homogeneous Java, revolution occurred without bringing fundamental change to society. In Sumatra, however, the revolution demanded an altogether new identity to override the ethnic categories, and the ethnic competition, of the past. The author is Senior Fellow in South-East Asian History at the Australian National University.

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE Revolution and the End of Traditional Rule in Northern Sumatra

ANTHONY REID

KUALA LUMPUR

O X F O R D U N I V E R S I T Y PRESS OXFORD NEWYORK MELBOURNE

1979

igcS'owg1 Oxford University Press OXFORD LONDON GLASGOW NEW YORK TORONTO MELBOURNE WELLINGTON KUALA LUMPUR SINGAPORE JAKARTA HONG KONG TOKYO DELHI BOMBAY CALCUTTA MADRAS KARACHI NAIROBI DAR ES SALAAM CAPE TOWN

© Oxford University Press 1979 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of Oxford University Press ISBN 019580399 X

Printed in Malaysia by Sun U Book Co. Sdn. Bhd. Bound by Dainippon Tien Wah Printing (Pte) Ltd. Singapore Published by Oxford University Press, 3, Jalan 13/3, Petaling jfaya, Selangor, Malaysia

For John and Aiken Reid

darah rakyat masih berjalan... the blood of the people continues to flow.. . (a song of the revolution, 1946)

CONTENTS

Tables and Maps Plates Preface Glossary and Abbreviations I II

PATTERNS OF KINGSHIP DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH Armed Resistance Backing the Uleebalang Patterns of Uleebalang Resistance Education The Religious Revival

IX

x xi xiv 1

Uleebalang under Fire

7 7 11 15 21 22 25 27

III

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA Europeans Labour Deli-Langkat-Serdang: The Opulent Sultanates The Southern Malay States The Sultans and the Dutch in the 1930s Simalungun Karoland The Urban Superculture The Political Movement Persatuan Sumatera Timur The Land Issue, 1938-1941

38 38 40 43 49 50 53 55 58 59 68 70

IV

1942: THE HANDS DECLARED Contacting the Japanese Revolt in Aceh The F-kikan in Control East Sumatra in Disarray Return of the Rajas The Aron Movement

84 84 87 89 90 93 96

PUSA

V THE JAPANESE EXPERIENCE Administrative Change

104 104

VUl

CONTENTS

New Roles for the Pergerakan Islamic Policy, 1942-1943 Military Mobilization Giyugun 'Participation' Economic Pressure PUSA Advances, 1943-1944

108 112 115 117 120 124 127

TALAPETA

130

Preparing 'Independence' The Regime in Crisis Leaders of Sumatra

134 136 139

VI THE AGENTS OF REVOLUTION IN EAST SUMATRA A City Leaderless The Pemuda Mobilize The Republic Proclaimed The Allied Landings, and Violence Pemuda in Arms Confronting the British and Japanese The Republic and the Kerajaan The Formation of Political Parties

148 148 153 155 158 161 165 169 172

VII

ECLIPSE OF THE ULEEBALANG Expectations A Republican Government Struggle for Arms Polarization in Pidie The Cumbok War The Destruction of Uleebalang Authority

185 185 187 192 195 200 204

VIII

'SOCIAL REVOLUTION' The Collapse of Traditional Government Persatuan Perjuangan and Polarization 'A Night of Blood' Revolution or Putsch Reaction

218 218 225 230 233 238

IX PRINCES, POLITICIANS, AND PEASANTS Appendix: Government Office-holders, 1945-1946 Bibliography Index

252 266 269 279

TABLES

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Contract Labour in East Sumatra, 1884-1929 Estate Labour Force in East Sumatra Attacks on Overseers by East Sumatran Estate Labour Ethnic Categories in East Sumatra, 1930 City Population of East Sumatra, 1930 Cultivator Claims on Estate Land, 1937 Composition of Shu Sangi Kai, 1943-1944

40 41 42 43 58 82 121

MAPS

Indonesian Population of Northern Sumatra 1 Aceh: Administrative Divisions under the Dutch 2 East Coast of Sumatra Residency under the Dutch 3 Kerajaan of East Sumatra, and Administrative Divisions of 1942-1946 4 Medan in 1945 5 The Pidie Region of Aceh

endpapers 8 44 105 149 184

PLATES

Between pages 124 and 125

5A

8A, B 9A

11 A, B 12A

14A

1 2A 2B 3A 3B 4A 4B &B 6A 6B 7A 7B &C &C 9B 10 &C &B 12C 13A 13B & B 15A 15B 16A 16B

The Dutch Conquest Jimat of invulnerability Military vigilance House of Teuku Oemar Polarization in Aceh T h e tobacco worker The tobacco establishment The splendour of the Sultans Dutch pride Indonesian pride Sultan Machmoed of Langkat Sultan Amaloedin of Deli Leaders of the Indonesian Pergerakan Japanese leaders Monument to the 1942 revolt Japanese and Acehnese leaders Uleebalang of Aceh East Sumatran revolutionaries Dr Tengku Mansur Sumatran leaders Independence rally of 9 October 1945 British military operations Governor Hasan Army leadership Amir Sjarifuddin in Sumatra Hatta in Aceh

L; I

PREFACE

history the loyalty of the Malay to his ruler has been proverbial. In few countries of the modern world is monarchy still so honoured as in the Malay states of Malaysia. Yet the states of northern Sumatra which had appeared so similar in their experience before 1945, thereafter underwent six months of revolutionary violence which swept their Malay and Acehnese rulers away for ever. Does this contrast refute the alleged centrality of the sultans in Malay identity, or does it rather confirm it ? Is the vaunted loyalty of the Malay subject more brittle than its apologists would have us believe ? Did the abolition of monarchy represent a liberation for the people of northern Sumatra, or merely deliver them to another phase of rule by others? What social consequences followed from the revolutionary path followed on one side of the Malacca Straits and the evolutionary one on the other ? These were the kind of questions which led me, while a resident of Malaysia, to undertake a study of the 'social revolutions' of Sumatra. As the study matured my attention was increasingly absorbed by the importance of the northern Sumatran story itself—both as the most thorough-going example of social change within the Indonesian revolution and as the dramatic turning point around which the modern history of the region revolves. It became necessary to consult records in many countries—the Netherlands, Britain, and Japan, as well as Indonesia and Malaysia. Above all it was necessary to interview a large number of Indonesians who lived through these events. T o these Indonesian informants my debt is particularly great. Probably none of them will share fully my perception, yet without their extraordinary helpfulness, tolerance, and hospitality this study would not have been possible. No-one could fail to be moved by the elements of heroism and tragedy in their personal experience of this period, nor feel satisfied with a historical account which necessarily subordinates these elements to the broader social consequences of their actions. If I have failed to capture the moral urgency of those whose lives were shaped by these events, I would like them to know that this was not for lack of sympathy and admiration for the ideals of those on both sides of the conflict. THROUGHOUT

I wish to thank all those informants whose names are listed below. Except where the informant has since died or his identity was essential

XU

PREFACE

to the veracity of the point, I have not revealed the names of informants in the footnotes. I would also like to thank my academic colleagues Michael van Langenberg, James Siegel, Saya Shiraishi, Akira Oki, Tengku Luckman Sinar, P. P. Bangun, Masri Singarimbun, Teuku Iskandar, David Marr, and Barbara Andaya for advice, material, and assistance; the archivists of the Ministerie van Binnenlandse Zaken, the Algemene Rijksarchief, the Public Record Office and the Museum Pusat, for their services; Hans Gunther and his colleagues in the Human Geography Department of A.N.U. for drawing the maps; Rose Mustapha, Maureen Krascum, Robyn Walker, and Freda Christie for typing the text; and the Australian National University, the University of Malaya, and the Lee Foundation for financial support during the many years this study has matured. I have adopted the new Indonesia/Malaysia spelling system for all purposes other than personal names. In this system the English ch sound is represented by c (thus Aceh not Acheh). The spelling of personal names is respected, so that in most names English y is represented hy j ; sh by sj; ch by tj. Foreign terms have been italicized except those which have become familiar in the English literature.

PEOPLE

INTERVIEWED

T H E following participants in the events described below were interviewed by me in various places and at various times between 1967 and 1975. Those known to have died subsequently are indicated 4 ". In Aceh: Teuku Panglima Polim Muhammad Ali; Hasan Aly; T . M. Amin; Ny. Aminah Abdullah Arif; Teungku Mohd. Daud Beureu'eh; Brig. Gen. Sjammaun Gaharu; Ali Hasjmy; Prof. Madjid Ibrahim; Teuku Ismail (Langsa); Ismuha; Ny. Col. Hoessin Joesoef; Marzuki Njakman; Dr Mahmud Serikawa (Langsa); T . Alibasjah Talsya; Teungku Oemar Tiro; Muzakkar Walad; Teuku Zainalabidin. In Medan {and environs): Prof. Ny. A. Abbas; Ustaz Abdulkadir; Teungku A. Hoesain Almujahid; Sultan Saiboen Asahan; Tengku Mochtar Aziz; Said Abu Bakar f ; Lt. Col. Burhanuddin; Sultan Osman Deli + ; Prof. Mr Tengku Dzulkarnain; Edisaputra; Abdullah Eteng; Selamat Ginting; Hassan Effendi Harahap; Tuanku Hashim; Tengku Dr Abdullah Hod; Cyrus Hutabarat; Tengku Jafizham; Bachtiar Joenoes; Abdullah Jusuf; Sugondo Kartoprodjo; Arif Lubis + ; H. Arsjad Thalif Lubis + ; Marzuki Lubis + (taped interview by Nip Xarim); Prof. M r Tengku Mahadi; Mahruzar; Haji A. Majid; Ngeradjai Meliala;

L-7

2

PREFACE

Xtll

Mohd. Joenoes Nasution + ; Col. T . M. Noerdin; Mohd. Saleh Oemar (Surapati); Madja Poerba; H. Mohd. Said; Shamsuddin; Nas Sibajang; Tengku Luckman Sinar; A. Wahab Siregar4"; Souffron; Sujono; Teuku Suleiman; Nip Xarim; H. M. Zainuddin 4 ". In Pematang Siantar: M. Eduard Damanik; A. S. Sibajang; Lt. Musa Sinaga; T . B.A. Purba Tambak. In Jakarta and Yogyakarta: Amelz; Mr S. M. Amin; Teungku Mohd. Hasbi As-Siddiqy + ; Tengku Damrah; Mr T . M. Hasan; Marnicus Hoetasoit; Mutalib Moro; Mohd. Yunan Nasution; Sjafruddin Prawiranegara; Osman Raliby; Soebadio Sastrosatomo; Lt. Gen. Ahmad Tahir; Mochammad Tauchid. In Malaya: Mohd. Hasjim; T. A. B. Husny; Abdullah Hussain; Dr T . Iskandar; Ghazali Yunus. In Japan: Adachi Takashi; Aoki Eigoro; Azuma Toru; Fujiwara Iwaichi; Horii Seibei; Prof. Itagaki Yoichi; Kabashima Kannosuke; Kondo Tsugio; Kuba Noburu; Miyayama Shigeo; Nakata Eishu (Muramoto); Sato Satio; Ushiyama Mitsuo; Yamaguchi Susumu. In the Netherlands: Mevr. Amir-Fournier; Dr A. J. Piekaar.

GLOSSARY AND ABBREVIATIONS

Ac = Acehnese / = Indonesian/Malay adat (I) afdeling (D) A.M.S.

Ar = Arabic J = Japanese

D K

Dutch Karo Batak

customary law district administered by an Assistant-Resident Algemene Middelbare School (7J), General High School Angkatan Pemuda Indonesia (/), Indonesian API Youth Force ARA Algemeen Rijksarchief, The Hague aron (K) cultivation co-operative Atjeh-moord (D) Acehnese murder Atjeh-politiek (D) Aceh policy bahu (I) approximately 0.7 hectare bapak (I) father barisan (I) front, fighting force Barisan Harimau Liar (/) Wild Tiger Force Barisan Mujahidin (II Ar) Force of fighters in the holy war Barisan Naga Terbang (/) Flying Dragon Force B.B. Binnenlands Bestuur (D), Internal Administration (Dutch colonial) Bi.Z. Binnenlandse Zaken (D), Internal Affairs (Ministry) BHL Barisan Harimau Liar (q.v.) BKI Bijdragen van het Koninklijk Instituut, Leiden Badan Kebaktian Pemuda Indonesia (/), IndoBKPI nesian Youth Loyalty Body Badan Oentoek Membantu Pertahanan Asia (/), BOMPA Body to Support the Defence of Asia Badan Pemuda Indonesia (J), Indonesian Youth BPI Body Badan Penjaga Keamanan (/), Body to Maintain BPK Order

GLOSSARY AND ABBREVIATIONS

bunshu (J) bunshucho (J) chiho-hoin (J) chokan (J) Chuo Sangi In (J) Comite van Ontvangst (D) controleur (D) cultuurgebied (D) cut (Ac) daerah istimewa (I) Dai Toa Kensetsu Undo (J) dayah (Ac) Divisi Rencong (7) dusun (I) erfpacht (D) ERRI

F-kikan

(J)

fuku (J) Gagak Hitam (I) GERINDO

gun (J) guncho (J) Gunseibu (J) Gunseikan (J) Harimau Liar (I) heiho (J) herendienst (D) Hikayat Perang Sabil (I) Hikojo Kimutai

(J) Hinomaru (J) H.I.S. hoin (J) hokokai (J)

XV

District equivalent to afdeling (D) or kabupaten (I) Head of bunshu, assistant resident highest court of a region, equivalent to Dutch landraad Governor, resident Central Advisory Council Reception Committee controller, lowest rank in European B.B. cultivation [plantation] district small, lesser special region Movement for the Building of Greater East Asia religious school of highest level Dagger Division lit. rural village, Karo-inhabited uplands of Malay Sultanates long lease (for land) Ekonomi Rakyat Republik Indonesia (I), People's economy of the Republic of Indonesia F(ujiwara) organization deputy Black Crow Gerakan Rakyat Indonesia (I), Indonesian People's Movement sub-district, equivalent to onderafdeling official responsible for gun Military Administration Department Military Administrator Wild Tiger (see BHL) auxiliary soldier obligatory labour Chronicle of the Holy War Airfield guard, troops sun circle, Japanese national flag Hollandsch-Indisch School (D), Dutch-medium (Primary) school for Indonesians court service organization

GLOSSARY AND ABBREVIATIONS

XVI

IPI IPO

I.S.I. jalan (I) jaluran (I) jihad (Ar) kadhi (Ar) kafir (Ar) Kaijo Jikeidan (J) kaphe (Ac) kaum muda (I) kaum tua (I) KBI keirei (J) kemuliaan (I) kenduri (I) Kenkokutai shintai

(J) Kenpeitai (J) kerajaan (I) kerapatan (I) kesain (K) kikan (J) klewang (Ac) KNI KNIL

Kompeuni (Ac)

Ikatan Pemuda Indonesia (I), Union of Indonesian Youth Overzicht van de Inlandsche en Maleisch-Chineesche Pers (Batavia, Kantoor voor Volkslectuur, monthly) Ichwanus Safa Indonesia (Ar) road harvested tobacco field (lit. furrowed) holy war Islamic judge infidel coastal self-defence force infidel younger group \ . ... ,, in religious controversy older group j Kepanduan Bangsa Indonesia (I), Indonesian National Scouts bow of homage majesty, magnificence feast Unit dedicated to Upbuilding the Country military police royal government meeting, kerajaan court in East Sumatra hamlet organization sword Komite Nasional Indonesia (I), Indonesian National Committee Koninklijk Nederlandsch Indisch Leger (D), Royal Netherlands Indies Army The [Dutch East India] Company, i.e. Dutch colonial government Short Declaration (of obedience to N.I. government) office of public welfare head of koseikyoku Kita-Sumatora-Sinbun (J), North Sumatran News village treasury of the statelet(s)

Korte Verklaring (D) koseikyoku (J) koseikyoku-cho (J) K-S-S kuta (K) landschapskas (D) Lembaga Bahasa Indonesian Language Institute Indonesia (I)

^

"

_^M

GLOSSARY AND ABBREVIATIONS

madrasah

(Ar)

MAIBKATRA

mailr. mandur (I) marga (I) Markas Agung (I) Markas Besar Rakyat Umum (I) MASJUMI

merah-putih (I) merdeka (I) MIT Mokotai (J) Mr mujahidin (Ar) MULO

musapat (Ac) muslimin (Ar) MvO naib kadhi (Ar) Nakano-gakko (J) NAPINDO

N.I.B.

NICA

NRI NST NZG onderafdeling (D) orang (I) OvS

XV11

Islamic school Majlis Agama Islam untuk Bantuan Kemakmuran Asia Timur Raya (/), Islamic Council for Supporting the Prosperity of Greater East Asia mailrapport (D), despatch (from Batavia to Netherlands Government) foreman exogamous (Batak) clan Supreme Headquarters Headquarters for the Whole People Majlis Syuro Muslimin Indonesia (I), Consultative Council of Indonesian Muslims red-white, the Indonesian national flag freedom Majlis Islam Tinggi (/), High Islamic Council Wild Tiger Unit Meester (in de rechten) (D), Title of law graduate fighters in the holy war Meer Uitgebreid Lager Onderwijs (D), Dutchmedium intermediate school customary court in Aceh Muslims, the armed resistance in Aceh Memorie van Overgave (D), Final report of (N.I.) official deputy kadhi Nakano (intelligence) school Nasional Pelopor Indonesia (I), Indonesian National Vanguard Officiele Bescheiden betreffende de NederlandsIndonesische Betrekkingen 1943-1950, ed. S. L. van der Wal, 4 Vols. (The Hague, Martinus Nijhoff, 1971-4) Netherlands Indies Civil Administration Negara Republik Indonesia (I), State of the Republic of Indonesia Negara Sumatera Timur (I), State of East Sumatra Nederlands Zendings Genootschap (D), Dutch Missionary Society sub-district (administered by controleur) person, man Oostkust van Sumatra (D), East Coast of Sumatra

GLOSSARY AND ABBREVIATIONS

xvm PADI

parang (I) PARINDRA

PARMUSI

PARTINDO

pasukan pelopor pemimpin pemuda

(I) (I) (I) (I)

Pemuda PUSA

penghulu (I) perang sabil (I) perbapaan (K) yi pergerakan (I) Persatuan Perjuangan (/) persen tanah (I) PESINDO PETA

P.I.L. PKI PNI PNl-baru pokrol bambu (I) Polisi Istimewa (I) PP PRI PRIMA

PST

Persatuan Anak Deli Islam (I), Association of Muslim Sons of Deli long knife, machete Partai Indonesia Raya (I), Greater Indonesia Party Partai Muslimin Indonesia (I), Indonesian Islamic Party Partai Indonesia (I), Indonesia Party armed unit vanguard, pioneer leader youth PUSA youth

village head (in East Sumatra) holy war parent village [national] movement Struggle Union percentage from (lease of) land Pemuda Sosialis Indonesia (I), Indonesian Socialist Youth Pertahanan Tanah Air (I), Defence of the Fatherland Penjaga Istana Langkat (I), Langkat Palace Guard Partai Komunis Indonesia (I), Indonesian Communist Party Partai Nasional Indonesia (I), Indonesian Nationalist Party New P N I ; Pendidikan Nasional Indonesia (I), Indonesian National Education unlicensed lawyer Special Police Persatuan Perjuangan (q.v.) Pemuda Republik Indonesia (I), Indonesian Republican Youth Pejuang Republik Indonesia Medan Area (I), Indonesian Republican (ex-)Fighters in the Medan Area Persatuan Sumatera Timur (I), East Sumatran Association

GLOSSARY AND ABBREVIATIONS PUSA

XIX

Persatuan Ulama Seluruh Aceh (I), All-Aceh Ulama Association

Pusat Markas Barisan Rakyat (I)

Central H Q of the People's Forces PUST Persatuan Ulama Sumatera Timur (I), East Sumatra Ulama Association raja (I) ruler rakan (Ac) guards and immediate followers of an uleebalang rencong (Ac) Acehnese dagger RvO I.C. Rijksinstituut voor Oorlogsdocumentatie (Amsterdam), Indisch Collectie sabilillah (Ar) holy (fighters) of God sandiwara (I) drama saw (Simal.) corvee for Simalungun rajas tawah (I) irrigated rice fields Sendenhan (J) propaganda service sepakat (I) unity, accord shu (J) province, equivalent to Dutch residency Shiikyo Hoin (J) Religious Court Shumuhan (J) Religious Office shu sangi kai (J) provincial advisory council S.I. Sarekat Islam (I), Islamic Association sibayak (K) vestigial Karo tetrarchs, reinstated by Dutch sicho (J) mayor SOK Sumatra's Oostkust (D), East Coast of Sumatra son (J) lowest administrative unit, village cluster soncho (J) village head, title given to uleebalang syahid (Ar) martyr in the holy war T. Teuku (q.v.) tabligh (Ar) public religious lecture, evangelization TALAPETA Taman Latihan Pemuda Tani (I), Young Farmers' Training School TALAPETA

Dosokai (J) TBG Tengku (I) Teuku (Ac) Teungku (Ac) Tgk. TKR

TALAPETA alumni Tijdschrift van het Bataviaasch Genootschap (Batavia) title of Malay aristocrat title of male members of uleebalang families respectful title, especially for ulama Teungku (q.v.) Tentera Keamanan Rakyat (I), People's Peacekeeping Army

GLOSSARY AND ABBREVIATIONS

XX

Tokubetsu Keisatsutai (J) tokko-ka (J) TRI Tropen Tuanku (7) ulama (Ar) uleebalang (Ac) urung Volksraad (D) volkschool (D) WIS WO zakat (Ar) zelfbestuurder (D)

special (armed) police corps political police Tentera Republik Indonesia (7), Army of the Indonesian Republic Museum voor de Tropen, Amsterdam title of raja and heir apparent (Malay), or of all members of sultan dynasty (Aceh) religious scholar or teacher ruler of a statelet traditional grouping of villages (Karo and Simalungun) People's Council (in Batavia) people's (vernacular) school Weekly Intelligence Summary War Office documents, held in Public Record Office, London tithe on agricultural produce autonomous ruler

pour—j T H E modern history of northern Sumatra has been dominated by three cultures—Acehnese, Batak, and Malay. It would be misleading to say three peoples. Individuals moved frequently from one culture to the other, and there were common Indonesian elements in the way villagers related to each other and to the land. As political cultures however the three diverged strikingly, in ways which governed their encounter with European colonialism and with each other. With the partial exception of Simalungun the Bataks did not develop state systems, so that the marga (clan) remained the most important social cement beyond the village. Acehnese and Malay political cultures, on the other hand, derived their classic formulation from the great Islamic monarchies of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The rulers of both Aceh and Melaka drew their power from the place of their capitals in the flourishing international trading system of that period. This power enabled each sultanate to impose its respective culture on a wide territory. The style of the two monarchies, however, was instructively different. The sultans of Melaka in its heyday, and of the successor capitals of Johor-Riau after 1511, were endowed with a sacred aura of sovereignty. Court chronicles were obsessed with the absolute loyalty incumbent on the subject and the divine retribution which would inevitably strike anyone who committed derhaka (treason) against the king. The legitimacy of the succession was therefore vitally important, and relatively stable. Few Malay sultans, however, took a direct interest in daily administration. A feature of Malay states became a mutually advantageous partnership between the ruling dynasty with its magical aura of daulat (sovereignty), and an effective administrator who had the necessary military and economic support at any given time. The chronicle of the Melaka sultanate expressed the relationship symbolically in a compact between the ancestor of the sultans and the prototype of the powerful Bendahara line: 'the descendants of your humble servant shall be the subjects of Your Majesty's throne, but they must be well treated by your descendants'. 1 This type of relationship provided a basis for the interdependence of the legitimate Malay sovereign and powerful non-

L

2

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

Malay forces, such as the orang laut of the Riau Archipelago or the Indian Muslim traders. After 1722 it was the warlike Bugis who wielded effective power in the Johor-Riau sultanate, and their leader who as Yangdipertuan (or Raja) Muda entered a contractual relationship with the Malay sultans: 'I, the Yangdipertuan Muda, shall govern your realm. If what lies lengthwise before you is not to your liking I shall lay it crossways. And if what lies crossways before you is not to your liking, I will lay it lengthways.' 2 The particular genius of Malay sovereignty was its ability to enter these mutually beneficial relationships with more warlike and even more numerous peoples without going under. On the contrary it was the Malay culture of port and capital which gradually absorbed the dissident ethnic elements over which it presided. The 'Malay' dynasties of East Sumatra were in fact moulded from varied ethnic origins, with Batak, Minangkabau, Acehnese, and Indian elements predominating over the strictly Malay blood of Melaka and Johor. No doubt it was this genius which allowed Malay culture eventually to predominate in the coastal ports of East Sumatra (between Langkat and Siak), replacing the influence of Aceh, which had introduced notions of monarchy to the Karo and Simalungun Bataks in the sixteenth century. 3 In its relations with the more numerous Batak population of northeast Sumatra, the Malay culture of the river ports had two great advantages. The first was its mediating role with the outside world, through trade and diplomacy; the second the exalted but flexible notion of kingship which enabled it to preside loosely over the conflicts of the Bataks, intervening only where necessary to draw some advantage. Many Bataks came to the Malay ports to trade; some returned to fight the rajas' wars, for little more return than the spoils of war; fewer still settled in the royal capitals as followers and eventually accepted Islam. In the eyes of some European observers there was a parasitic quality about this Malay relationship with the Batak. Anderson for example contrasted the Malays with the Karo Batak pepper growers of the early nineteenth century, the latter being . . . withal industrious, their avaricious habits and fondness for money, inducing them to exert themselves. The day is spent principally in labour. . . . A Malay, however, is reckoned rich here when he has amassed two thousand dollars; for their excessive indolence prevents them from collecting much money. The seafaring people work perhaps a few months in the year, making a voyage or two to Pinang, and spend the rest of their time in indolence. . . . The Battas, on the other hand, are extremely penurious and saving; and being industrious at the same time, they accumulate large sums, and make no show. The moment a Malay becomes possessed of a little money, he enter-

PATTERNS OF KINGSHIP

3

tains as many attendants as he can, and is accounted rich or respectable according to the number of his followers.4 In the fullness of time the Malays would indeed have to pay for this vulnerable position as mediators, traders, and rulers rather than primary producers. It was nevertheless a necessary role for both Batak producers and foreign buyers. With the advent of Dutch colonial control, it became still more crucial. Malay monarchies were ideal allies for European indirect rule, particularly in the shape they had come to assume in nineteenth-century East Sumatra. Economically and militarily they were weak, and dependent on the degree of support they enjoyed fronv-Batak^kllies. Despite the exalted notions of sovereignty and heavenly descent to which they laid claim, they were also small and divided, with a dozen greater or lesser rajas competing for control of the trade which flowed from Batak territory down the rivers of the east coast. History had preconditioned them to co-operation with foreign traders and warriors where it suited their interests. Dutch colonial power manifestly advanced the interests of almost all the Malay rulers of the East Coast. Blind to the complexities of power relationships in East Sumatra, the Dutch from the moment of their arrival in 1862 treated the Malay rajas as simple monarchs, enhancing enormously their status in relation both to lesser Malay chiefs and to Karo or (in Asahan) Toba Batak allies. For planters anxious to exploit the superb fertility of the volcanic alluvium around Deli, the Malay rulers offered the further great advantage of what appeared to be a domain principle—a claim to have the right to dispose of all land within their jurisdiction. In the early pioneering stage of the cultuurgebied (plantation area) this provided an uncomplicated means whereby vast tracts of virgin forest could be alienated to tobacco estates on the basis of modest royalties to the raja. Under Dutch indirect rule the Malay rulers continued their historic role as mediators between the Batak producers and the outside world, on terms much more advantageous to themselves. The four dynasties of the cultuurgebied which emerged most successfully from the scramble of the 1860s—Langkat, Deli, Serdang, and Asahan—were rewarded by the Dutch with the title of Sultan, enormous wealth, complete security, and enhanced control over the both their Malay vassals and the neighbouring Bataks. What resistance there was to the imposition of Dutch control in East Sumatra came primarily from the Batak population, for obvious reasons. In Asahan the Toba Bataks of the interior were in more or less continual revolt from the moment Dutch rule was imposed in 1865 until 1870, when some of their leaders were killed and others conciliated. The Karo Bataks inhabiting the dusun, the upland parts of the alluvial plain over

K pcju.odfL

4

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

which the rulers of Deli and Langkat claimed sovereignty, had still more reason for grievance. They harassed the estates occupying land they considered their own, and finally revolted in 1872 under the leadership of the ruling family of Sunggal, the most prominent of the 'Malayized' Karo dynasties with direct influence over the Karo cultivators. In this so-called 'Batak war' of 1872 the Dutch reduced the Datuk of Sunggal to subordination to the Sultan of Deli, though the war also forced them to take more seriously Karo claims on the land. Karo attacks on estates continued sporadically as late as the 1890s, despite the increasing sophistication with which the Dutch co-opted Karo chiefs , into a privileged aristocracy of the Deli sultanate.5 The genius of Malay kingship for mediating with ethnically diverse producers was not shared by Acehnese kings. The boundaries of Aceh were cultural as well as political; few non-Acehnese were in a dependent relationship to sultans of Aceh except as a temporary result of conquest. Whatever sacral aura hung about the throne of Aceh did not prevent usurpers and rivals from constantly interrupting the hereditary line. During the heyday of the sultanate (1520-1641) there were a number of sultans whose rule was both personal and highly centralized. They played a particularly dominant role in commerce, preferring a system of aggressive royal monopoly to the milder Malay policy of attracting trade to the capital.6 < The decline of the centralized power of Aceh in the late seventeenth • and eighteenth centuries did not make it any more receptive to foreign penetration. Whenever a sultan yielded to such European demands as fortified strongholds for trading operations, popular pressure brought about a retraction. The Chinese, who came to dominate the foreign trade of many Malay states in the nineteenth century, were apparently banned from Aceh.7 Acehnese were highly proficient as exporters as well as producers of their pepper and betelnut. r In Aceh, as in the myriad Malay states of the Melaka Straits, the / domination of European entrepots by the nineteenth century had created I a fragmentation of economic, and therefore of political, power. The sultan continued to be respected throughout Aceh as suzerain, but the channels of commerce no longer flowed exclusively through his capital. In the interior of Aceh Besar (the watershed of the Aceh river) and Pidie, and at the mouth of each river in East and West Aceh and the north coast, uleebalang levied tolls on their own markets, frequently warring against each other for control of territory or trade.

t

Aceh would have presented problems to European colonial ambition even had the sultanate been astutely co-opted as an instrument of indirect rule. Instead the Dutch made a frontal assault in 1873, declared the sultanate abolished, and succeeded in uniting this whole formidable

PATTERNS OF KINGSHIP

5

country against themselves. They were never able to withdraw completely from the disastrous imbroglio they drew upon themselves until the Japanese relieved them of it seventy years later. For three decades the war ebbed and flowed, with the Acehnese showing ever-increasing skill in guerrilla warfare under the guidance of ulama (Islamic teachers) committed to holy war. Only in the years after 1898 did the Dutch gain the upper hand by adopting a policy of ceaseless pursuit.8 Its political corollary was an alliance with the uleebalang, the remaining element in the population with the greatest interest in peace. As the basis for a policy of indirect rule the Acehnese uleebalang were less congenial than the Malay rajas of East Sumatra, but experience constantly appeared to demonstrate to the Dutch that they had no alternative. The three major ethnic groups of northern Sumatra had entered the Netherlands imperium in strikingly different ways. In the 1940s they would similarly leave it in very different moods. The Malay sultans gained much from their association with Dutch colonialism, and most of their Malay subjects appeared content to bask in their reflected glory. With the Acehnese uleebalang the Dutch struck a more even bargain of mutual dependence, in the face of powerful anti-Dutch sentiments among the population. The positive effect of Dutch rule on the Karo and Simalungun Batak of East Sumatra was less profound than in either of these cases, partly because the absence of any true monarchic institutions gave the colonial power no point of entry. The Batak rajas created or nurtured by the Dutch remained somewhat artificial figures whose role was never clearly defined.

1. 'Sejarah Melayu or "Malay Annals": a translation of Raffles M S 18', by C. C. Brown, jfMBRAS, 25, Pt 2/3 (1952), pp. 26-7. T h e text typically insists that the raja in turn exacted a promise that 'Malay subjects shall never be disloyal or treacherous to their rulers, even if they behave evilly or inflict injustice upon them'. 2. Tuhfat al-Nafis (Singapore, 1965, romanized edition), p. 62, as translated by Virginia Matheson, 'Concepts of State in the Tuhfat al-Nafis', in Precolonial State Systems in Southeast Asia, ed. A. Reid and L. Castles, Monograph No. 6 of MBRAS (Kuala Lumpur, 1975), p . 13. 3. T h e main evidence for the Acehnese origins of the Asahan monarchy and a residual system of four rajas among Simalungun and Karo Batak are the internal traditions of these peoples, for which see M. Hamerster, Bijdrage tot de kennis van de afdeeling Asahan (Amsterdam, OvS Instituut, 1926), pp. 42-4; J. Tideman, Simeloengoen (Leiden, 1922), pp. 34-9 and 68-71; P. Tamboen, Adat-istiadat Karo (Jakarta, Balai Pustaka, 1952), pp. 15-62. The peak of Aceh influence is usually attributed to Sultan Iskandar Muda (1609-36). 4. John Anderson, Mission to the East Coast of Sumatra Kuala Lumpur, OUP, 1971), pp. 266-8.

in 1823 (Reprint

6

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

5. C. A. Kroesen, 'Geschiedenis van Asahan', TBG, 31 (1886), pp. 111-36; W. H. M. Schadee, Geschiedenis van Sumatra's Oostkust (Amsterdam, OvS Instituut, 1918), pp. 187-203; Tengku Luckman Sinar, Sari Sedjarah Serdang (n.p., n.d. [Medan, 1971?]), I, pp. 156-60; Anthony Reid, The Contest for North Sumatra: Atjeh, the Netherlands, and Britain, 1858-1898 (Kuala Lumpur, O U P / U M P , 1969), pp. 25-51. 6. Anthony Reid, 'Trade and the Problem of Royal Power in Aceh: Three stages: c.1550-1700', in Pre-colonial State Systems, pp. 45-55. 7. Chinese traders were a major factor in seventeenth-century Aceh, and it is not clear when this ceased to be the case. A French visitor in 1843, however, gave as a cause for Aceh's commercial decline 'the expulsion of the Chinese, as unbelievers . . . an expulsion which causes regret among the native merchants'. Affaires Etrangeres Memoires et Documents, Asie, No. 23, f. 139.

\i

T h e Aceh-Dutch war is described in Reid, The Contest, pp. 91-283.

II DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

'It is essential that we keep firmly in mind that our authority in Aceh rests primarily on the uleebalang, apart from the force of arms. . . . Without them we will achieve nothing in Aceh in the long run.' GOVERNOR GOEDHART,

ARMED

19271

RESISTANCE

BY 1913, after forty years of war, the Dutch could at last be said to have conquered Aceh. A policy of ceaseless pursuit, control of arms and trade, and fines on hostile villages had brought the traditional ruling class (the royal family and the uleebalang) to its knees by 1903. The killing continued, but was now directed exclusively against guerrilla bands inspired and often led by famous ulama. In Dutch eyes the guerrillas were the jahat (baddies), but to the Acehnese they were simply muslimin (Muslims). They had chosen to put their faith in God rather than man, preferring a martyr's death and its heavenly reward to the shame of living under the heel of the infidel conqueror. Despite the 11,000 Acehnese they had killed since the surrender of the best-known leaders in 1903, the Dutch still counted about 6,000 of these muslimin against them in 1908.2 They embodied the remaining desperate national pride of the Acehnese, but their days were numbered. By 1913, when 3,000 more had fallen in battle, the two centres of resistance had been broken—the 'Tiro-teungkus'3 of Pidie and the followers of Teungku di Mata Ie in Keureutoe. The Acehnese had finally been forced to respect Dutch power, but at enormous material and psychological cost. Aceh Besar, the heart of the old sultanate in the valley of the Aceh river, had lost at least three-quarters of its pre-war population by war and flight. The Alas area in the interior, conquered in bloody fighting only in 1903, was estimated to have lost a quarter to a third of its menfolk.4 Every district had its crop of martyrs and heroes, and its bitter memories of houses burned, cattle slaughtered, and fines imposed as the Dutch troops moved through.

w^

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

1 Aceh: Administrative Divisions under the Dutch

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

9

The more clear-eyed Dutch officials, like Snouck Hurgronje, recognized that the only hope for the sort of tolerance which Dutch rule enjoyed elsewhere in the archipelago was the birth of a new generation of Acehnese unaffected by the war. As late as 1936 the Dutch Governor of Aceh still believed there was within each Acehnese

0

. . . a fanatical love of freedom, reinforced by a powerful sense of jrage, with a consequent contempt for foreigners and hatred for the infidel ruler. He fought against the intruder, asking no quarter, but finally failed before superior force, and his religion and his Eastern fatalism have told him that this was right, but only so long as this superior force was really superior.5 The decades of peace which the Dutch felt they needed proved always elusive, not least because of some Dutch policies. For the ordinary Aceh- V nese the burden of tax became the tangible mark of his conquered state. Under his own rulers he had paid virtually no tax except a substantial. levy on exports and imports and occasional assistance to his uleebalang, especially in time of war. Nineteenth-century Dutch colonial practice, however, made corvee labour, herendienst (lit.: service of the feudal lord), the basic imposition on the subject. Even though Java, where there was at least a better case for regarding corvee as traditional, was moving away from the system by 1900, the Dutch never felt able to do without it for building roads at their colonial frontier in Sumatra. Tax in money was also applied, to the extent of about one guilder per year per person in 1917,6 but it was the obligation to labour for twenty-four days a year on the roads and bridges of the hated Kompeuni which was most resented by Acehnese. The fact that there was no such burden in Malaya was frequently advanced as the reason why numerous Acehnese migrated there after the conquest. There was for the first time a tendency for them to return in 1919-22, when it began to be possible to buy out of the obligation for corvee, at three guilders per year. 7 The psychological effect of the conquest on Acehnese society was incalculable. An Acehnese scholar has rightly pointed to the 'disintegration, psychic depression', and 'mental sickness' it produced. 8 T h e Dutch were particularly concerned with this problem in the 1920s, building the largest mental asylum in the country at Sabang to cope with what seemed an exceptional crisis. One way out of the crushing sense of defeat was a return to the struggle, initially because of some revived hope that it might yet succeed, but increasingly through the desperate determination of individuals or small groups to trade their lives for those of Dutchmen in the certainty of being immediately received into heaven as martyrs (mati syahid). Periodically the atmosphere of holy war (perang sabil) was recreated

10

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

by a group of Acehnese, usually centred around a locally influential ulama. They would take an oath of resistance together after reading the forbidden Hikayat Perang Sabil, an evocation in Acehnese verse of the duty and privilege of martyrdom. This remarkable epic used stories from the Kuran and Arabic literature as a vehicle for a powerful exhortation to join the holy war. Some versions of the Hikayat gave more attention than others to the crimes of the Dutch, but all put their primary stress on the mediocrity of earthly pleasures in comparison with the rewards for the fighter in a holy cause. Beloved of God is the warrior, The Lord prepares a lofty heaven, with heavenly maidens and courtesans, Seventy heavenly maidens the Lord will give us, Seventy beautiful courtesans He will bestow on us. . . . Compared with all other piety, warfare is the most esteemed, Do not worry, my friend, we are born but quickly die. . . . Come, friend, to the holy war, let us give our all, Every sacrifice we make, O friend, will return to us many fold.9 A considerable number of men took part in such an oath in Daya (west coast of Aceh) in 1924. In the three following years much more serious outbreaks in the southernmost part of Aceh brought back a condition of full-scale guerrilla warfare, with new recruits streaming to join the few muslimin who had never come down from the hills. In 1926, the most intense year of this 'Bakongan revolt', 119 Acehnese and twenty-one Dutch soldiers were killed in one small southern district alone. 10 Two of its principal leaders, T . Radja Tampo and Pang Karim, were still being hunted at the end of the Dutch regime. T h e 'Bakongan revolt' was of course encouraged by preparations for rebellion by the P K I (Communist Party), notably in West Sumatra. Marxism itself was of little interest except to a handful of non-Acehnese or part-Acehnese in the towns, the railway, and the estate area of East Aceh. When, however, 'communist' became equated with muslimin, and a propagandist in the mountainous Gayo-Alas area talked of 'a complete destruction of the Kompeuni throughout Aceh and Sumatra by the communist party, making men free and also exempt from any herendienst and tax', many Acehnese were ready to respond as of old. About eighteen such muslimin from West Aceh were arrested at the end of 1925 before they could attack a Dutch transport in the mountains near Blang Kejeren. Sixty-two more were arrested in June 1926 for planning an attack on Blang Kejeren barracks. One of the first successful blows by the P K I anywhere in Indonesia was the theft of 11,000 guilders from the treasury in Kutaraja on 31 May 1926, though all the plotters were picked up soon afterwards. 11 \

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

11

These upheavals of 1925-7 rekindled whatever embers remained of old-style resistance, but its days were nevertheless numbered. Three battle-hardened ulama of the Pidie region led an abortive attack on a Dutch transport in 1928; the Alasland was again disturbed by preparation for holy war in 1932. The two last incidents of ulama leading a group of followers to die as muslimin both occurred on the west coast of Aceh Besar. In November 1933 fourteen men from Lhong were hunted down by the Dutch after having set off for the fight as muslimin, while forty more were said to be waiting in Lhong to join at the first sign of success.12 In July 1937 an ulama of Leupueng and three followers were killed after occupying a nearby meunasah (prayer-hall), having talked for some time of becoming muslimin.13 I ^ ^ L ^ I/. v^^Lui . The increasing hopelessness of these attacks on the Dutch regime steadily reduced the distinction between such bands of muslimin taking an oath to resist to the death and individual suicidal attacks on Dutchmen. Until 1938 no year passed without some instance of the latter, which the colonial regime persistently attempted to dismiss as a peculiar form of psychological disorder, the Atjeh-moord (Acehnese murder). Typically the attacker would put his affairs in order in preparation for a hero's death, go to a town where he could expect to find Dutchmen, and suddenly spring upon one with his rencong (dagger) or klewang (long knife). The character of the assailants and the factors which brought them to trade their life for that of a kaphe (kafir, unbeliever) | were in fact extremely varied. The common denominator, however, was the continuing conviction that the surest way to a heavenly reward was to die in the way of God, fighting His enemies. This type of attack declined more slowly than the guerrilla resistance: from 75 in the decade 1910-19, to 52 in 1920-9, and 35 in 1930-8.14 In the last five years of their regime, however, violent resistance to the Dutch virtually disappeared. As the most acute Dutch official of the time saw it, 'It appeared that the population had at last definitively acquiesced in Dutch rule, and recognized that there was no longer any path open except co-operation.'15 This was only part of the truth. For the dominant sector of Acehnese society, particularly the younger generation, it was not Dutch rule that had been accepted, but new styles of organization and awareness. The young and the educated were beginning to measure Aceh's dignity in terms not of desperate muslimin defiance to the conqueror but of catching up with the new forces transforming both the Islamic and Indonesian worlds. BACKING THE ULEEBALANG Nowhere in the Dutch empire could official careers be so quickly

12

„

UiO

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

made or broken as in Aceh, and every governor was dogmatic about the special formula necessary to solve the painful 'Aceh-problem'. Although the conflict was often bitter between what would today be called hawks and doves, two principles were so fundamental that they came to be regarded as the essence of a rigid and distinct Atjeh-polttiek (Acehpolicy). T h e first was Iforce: Whatever the appearances, the doctrine went, Acehnese had only "hatred for their infidel conquerors and had to be constantly reminded that the Dutch were strong. A force of at least 4,000 men had to be maintained, spread as broadly as possible around the province in small brigades. Any hint of rebelliousness had to be decisively crushed. Trust in the uleebalang became firmly established as the second principle during a reaction against the tough policies of the disgraced governor Van Daalen (1905-8), although its roots went back to Snouck Hurgronje and beyond. The principle laid down by a special government commissioner, Liefrifrk, in 1909, was ioaJ- OJOJO Q^UMSL& O • . ? . . . to make the broadest possible use of the services of the native chiefs, and to entrust them with the principal responsibility for the way things are done. . . . When, as a result of the apparent untrustworthiness and wavering sentiments of many uleebalang, the true reasons for which were not perceived, an attempt was made for a lengthy period to govern without them, the results were exceedingly disappointing [i.e. Van Daalen]. Despite the many undesirable qualities and faults of these chiefs, they are the ones who have influence on the population and thereby have much to offer in enabling us . . . to reach our goal. The more that can be left to them, the better it is. 16 In the early years of this policy, under Governor Swart (1908-18), it was still a highly flexible principle of offering to locally influential figures all possible inducements to co-operate. In later years the charge was made that the uleebalang were 'bought' through unrealistically high allowances to both the so-called zelfbestuurders (autonomous rulers) who governed each district, and a host of lesser uleebalang and ulama. 17 Later governors developed the special role of the uleebalang into a dogma, which could be used to defend the status quo on a whole range of issues against initiatives from Batavia. Because the uleebalang were the basis for Dutch influence in Aceh, it was argued, nothing could be done either to alienate them or to undermine their authority. On these grounds Governor Goedhart, for example, rejected all the reforms under discussion in Java—the establishment of representative councils under the decentralization laws; the amalgamation of some of the 103 'selfgoverning' statelets 18 ruled by uleebalang into more manageable units; the 'normalisation' of uleebalang salaries; or the institution of an indigenous bureaucracy. 19 A corollary of this emphasis was an exaggera-

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

13

tion of the traditional supremacy of the uleebalang over his obedient people. 'They [the uleebalang] feel themselves still to be the feudal lords, and are also considered as such by the people. Certainly, the Acehnese people will in the long run not be able to avoid the influence of modern concepts, but I ask myself why the Government should want to hasten the process.' 20 Feudal lords the Acehnese uleebalang had never been. They had always enjoyed deep respect from their people, but their economic position had nothing of the feudal relation of lord to serf. Aceh was, indeed, one of the few areas in Indonesia where Islamic property law was applied to land-holding, vesting the fullest rights of ownership and disposal of land in the individual farmer. 21 The most typical traditional roles of the uleebalang were those of war leader and entrepreneur. In the Acehnese frontier regions of the east and west coast he was the pioneer and financier of the opening of a new pepper-growing settlement. If he also had political and military skills, he would become the raja or uleebalang of a little statelet, but his income continued to derive almost exclusively from trade. By controlling a port or river he levied a 5 per cent toll on all imports and exports; pepper and betel exports, as the major crops, earned him a special return of about a dollar a pikul; and much of the produce of his statelet was controlled entirely by him as the principal capitalist and trader. 22 Even in the most densely-settled rice-growing area in Aceh, the plain of Pidie, Siegel has argued convincingly that the position of the uleebalang rested basically on control of trade and on his own economic activity, not on a domain principle or control of irrigation. 23 Throughout indirectly-ruled Netherlands India a distinction between the income of the raja and that of the kerajaan (government of the statelet) came with Dutch-controlled treasuries (landschapskas), introduced to Aceh in 1912. The ruling uleebalang received an allowance fixed during the period of warfare, anywhere between f. 10,200 a year in the biggest states and f.240 in the village-sized ones. As well as the size of the statelet, its strategic importance to the Dutch was a determinant. The uleebalang in Pidie tended to be so well paid as to consume over half the statelets' income, whereas those on the west coast were relatively poor. The only additional official income they were allowed was a proportion of the royalties paid by European estates and mining companies, in order to provide an incentive for 'development'. Only in eastern Aceh was this a factor, with Peureulak in particular growing rich on oil and rubber royalties. 24 In practice, however, there was only a gradual decline in 'the tradition existing among many rulers of increasing their incomes by more or less unlawful emoluments at the expense of their subjects'. 25 Among

• jo-^ %\^jtJ~^

14

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

the more lawful were the uleebalang's traditional levy of up to 10 per cent of inheritances he adjudicated, and taking possession of land abandoned by its owners. Among the less lawful were levying corvee for private purposes, seizing the land of those who lost in legal suits, and using the control of irrigation to advance their private purposes. Some also devised novel forms of income, such as embezzlement of the religious tithe (zakat) previously controlled by ulama. 26 Since the administration of law and religion was also concentrated in their hands, there was little chance for appeal. If the majority of the population experienced a dramatic rise in the burden of tax and corvee due to the colonial government, without any comparable diminution of obligations to the uleebalang, they of course blamed the Dutch rather than the uleebalang for that. Nevertheless the new role defined for the uleebalang under colonial rule drove them ever further from their people. The Acehnese uleebalang could not become overnight the aristocratic administrator of Dutch or Javanese type. He remained extremely active as an entrepreneur. But whereas his political power had previously been a natural product of his power over the market, he now used the more limited but secure administrative authority the Dutch allowed him to promote his economic ends. His complete dominance in his statelet made him effectively the only large entrepreneur, profiting from new opportunities to open estates of coffee and rubber as well as the traditional pepper, rice, and betelnut. Supported by the government agricultural service, the uleebalang also established in the 1930s a virtual monopoly of rice milling, which strengthened their economic control. In 1936 the Governor hailed this development as 'an example of what can be achieved in Aceh if the Uleebalang take an interest in it. That they thereby serve themselves handsomely can moreover only promote our interests, for a rich Uleebalang is better than a poor.' 27 Unused land was customarily regarded as in the gift of the ruler, so that in sparsely settled areas like Tangse or the west coast there was plenty of opportunity for economically ambitious uleebalang to open new estates. In the irrigated plain of Pidie, however, the valuable land was almost all regarded as privately owned, by either the uleebalang in his private capacity, or his subjects. The economic ambitions of uleebalang here brought them most directly into competition with their people. The slender available evidence suggests that uleebalang ownership of land in Pidie increased dramatically during the Dutch period. Already in 1923 Broersma had remarked how the system of landholding, 'in the hands of relatively few, militates against a reasonable distribution of welfare' in the Pidie region. 28 Siegel's informants claimed that the Pidie rulers had come by the end of the Dutch period to own a third to a

''foi

) oJLs

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

15

half of the rice land in their statelets—half in the case of the grasping T . Oemar of Keumangan. 29 Although one should not ignore the personal loyalty which most uleebalang continued to enjoy, these developments steadily widened the gulf between them and their subjects. The fine new houses which a few of them wrere building, 30 and the Dutch education and life-style their sons were acquiring, were simply the most obvious outward sign of the change in their economic role. As early as 1921 the scholarly adviser to the Netherlands Indian Government on native affairs, R. A. Kern, had warned of the dangers this trend posed even for Dutch authority, since many attacks on Europeans in fact were traceable to grievances against the uleebalang. So little was this warning heeded that the Governor in 1936 was still deliberately putting all responsibility for applying restrictions on rubber growing in the hands of the uleebalang, 'so that eventual grievances will not be ascribed to the Kompeuni [the Dutch]'. 3 1 Steadily if imperceptibly, the total reliance of the Dutch regime on the uleebalang was being reversed. In the much more stable conditions of the 1930s, it was increasingly the uleebalang who had to rely on the Dutch to achieve their ends. Some of those in the Pidie area even asked the Dutch to provide troops to make their people work harder in the rice fields.32 A late Dutch formulation of the Atjeh-politiek (1936) put the question in somewhat different terms from earlier versions: Their [uleebalang's] influence on this feudal-agrarian society, in which they are mostly great landholders at the same time, is still so enormous that they can be made fully responsible for the conduct of affairs in their area. Fortunately they themselves are aware of the fact, that without our protection they would constantly be exposed to attacks from their neighbours, while many moreover can only maintain their power over the chiefs subordinate to them with our support. 33 When in 1939 a spate of criticism of uleebalang oppression suddenly came to the surface, there were Dutch officials ready to admit that Aceh policy had reached a sort of impasse, where each possible avenue of reform was closed off by fear of the repercussions among the uleebalang. Dutch disenchantment with 'the caste of hereditary uleebalang dynasties' 34 had grown to the point of allowing this criticism to be voiced, but not to the point of taking any positive steps to modernize the system of government. PATTERNS

OF ULEEBALANG

RESISTANCE

Dutch reliance on the uleebalang after 1908 should not be taken to mean that a smooth or dependable partnership had developed. As sal-

16

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

aried rulers the uleebalang had most to lose at Dutch hands in the event of a renewal of warfare, but it would be a long time before the Dutch could expect to find in them the sort of 'loyal' and efficient instruments with which the colonial bureaucracy liked to work. One instance of the dangers of handling old-style uleebalang must have remained vividly before the Dutch officials for some time. In 1913 the much-decorated officer presiding over the musapat (court) of Sigli, in which several uleebalang sat, dismissed abruptly the demand of the ruler of Titeue for a stiff penalty for a commoner who had struck his son. The disgruntled uleebalang sprang up and stabbed the Dutchman fatally with his rencong.35 The great weakness of the uleebalang was their inability to do anything together. Almost every statelet had a dispute with its neighbours for control of some village or waterway, and many were internally divided by the desire of some mukim for autonomy. Although some individual uleebalang could be extremely independently-minded, there was seldom any resistance by his peers when such a man was dismissed or exiled by the Dutch regime. The keys to arousing a wider pan-Acehnese movement were Islam and (to a lesser extent) the aura of the vanished sultanate, and these were not in uleebalang hands. Only once did it appear likely that they could mobilize a populist movement under their own leadership, and the failure of this attempt was crucial for their subsequent development. Sarekat Islam was the first and most important Java-based political movement to reach Aceh. Founded in Surakarta in 1912 it quickly developed into the embodiment of ethnic Indonesian solidarity against European and Chinese pressures. By 1916 the younger, educated Acehnese were already aware of it as a growing force in the land. Government policy appears initially to have been indulgent toward the movement, which was rightly perceived as leading Aceh away from the increasingly negative and self-sacrificial pre-occupation with its lost freedom towards a positive movement of economic and political reform. 36 There were indeed implications in this new movement which appeared to bring hope to a people who had nearly lost it. Trust in God alone was supplemented by trust in the unity of the brotherhood; and the oath to die together as muslimin was replaced by an oath to protect and strengthen one another until victory. Whoever enters S.I. has become kaum muslimin. Formerly we became muslimin carrying a rifle, but now that is no longer necessary, now sepakat (accord, harmony) is enough. If we are in accord we are already numerous, and whatever we want to achieve will take place; and moreover what the Assistant Resident or the Governor want will not take place, because they are simply individuals without numbers. From here as far as Java sepakat has been achieved among the descendants of Islam. . . .

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

17

The learned men have looked in their books, and they say it is true. If there is brotherhood, if something goes wrong the uleebalang will help. The uleebalang sits in the court, and the [Dutch] controleur can only listen. Whoever breaks the secret will be killed. If the one who kills is fined by the Kompeuni the Sarekat group will pay the fine. . . . Do not keep faith with other races, for it is of no use, because if a man helps the Kompeuni he is not thereafter helped by the Kompeuni.31 As the movement spread in the area of the north coast of Aceh around Lhokseumawe, members were sworn to mutual aid and protection by the so-called yasin water oath. Water, said to have been brought from Sarekat Islam in Java, was drunk while the yasin (36th chapter of the Kuran) was recited to strengthen the resolve. According to some hostile witnesses, the form of the oath was similar to that used by the muslimin who fought the Dutch. 3 8 The intentions of the leaders, however, were entirely different. As in other parts of Indonesia, Sarekat Islam in Aceh was led at the local level by members of the traditional elite able and willing, for a variety of reasons, to seek their legitimacy in popular support rather than Dutch recognition. Three uleebalang in the Lhokseumawe area, all among the first Acehnese to have a Dutch secondary education at the Government training college in Bukittinggi, provided the essential thrust for Sarekat Islam. Teuku Rhi Boedjang had ruled Nisam since his brother was dismissed in 1912. An energetic reformer, he had established a regular market day and attempted to abolish herendienst. In 1918 he founded Islam Menjadi Satu (Towards Muslim Unity), whose programme represented the first attempt in Aceh to bridge the gap between government and Islamic education by establishing an Islamic teachers' college.39 Despite the increasing friction arising from his forceful manner with local Dutch officials, the governor had to concede 'because he is an honorable ruler, who does not exploit but always helps and supports his people, he has his whole statelet behind him'. 40 Teuku Chik Mohamad (Mat) Said, ruler of Cunda, was particularly active in forming co-operatives to help his people withstand the pressure of Chinese and European buyers. Politically he was less forceful than the other two, but encouraged Sarekat Islam to make its headquarters in his statelet and his chief Imeum (religious official), Teungku Boediman, to become one of its leaders. The youngest member of the group of uleebalang was Teuku Abdul Latif, son and heir of the ruler of Geudong. More Europeanized than the other two, he emphasized the anticapitalist rather than the Islamic-solidarity aspect of Sarekat Islam, and appears to have written a joint appeal the three uleebalang sent to the Governor in November 1920 about concessions to foreign estates in eastern Aceh: 'it will not be believed by a single native that land

18

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

which has fallen into the hands of those companies has been given with the consent of the uleebalang, unless with persuasion from government officials.'41 Until the middle of 1920 it appeared as though Sarekat Islam's influence as a popular movement was limited to these three statelets near Lhokseumawe. At that point, however, an unexpected ally was found in the most influential uleebalang of the district, the old, rich, and conservative Teuku Maharaja of Lhokseumawe. He returned empty-handed and annoyed from a mission to Batavia in pursuit of an irredentist claim on neighbouring Samalanga. He had also gained the impression that Sarekat Islam was immensely powerful in Java, with its leader in a position to dictate to the Governor-General. With his encouragement the younger propagandists were now able to win over the majority of uleebalang in Lhokseumawe district, and some of those in the Lhoksukon and Idi districts to the east, to their view that strength lay in solidarity rather than reliance on the Dutch. Teungku Boediman was sent to meet Tjokroaminoto in Java in November 1920, with messages to the effect that the uleebalang of Aceh would support each other in disputes with the Dutch, and would work to prevent any weakening of Sarekat Islam. In an effort to win over sceptics like the uleebalang of Bayu, who asked why he should join an organization not led by an Acehnese, the militants also sponsored another short-lived group— Uleebalang Sepakat (uleebalang solidarity). They steadily became more confident in their relations with Dutch officials, and denounced as bootlickers (jilat pantat) those uleebalang who attempted to oppose them by setting up Sarekat Setia (loyal union) groups. 'The faithful rulers in the Lhokseumawe district felt helpless against the rapid corrosion of this undermining of government authority, and were uncertain about their people.' 42 Dutch repression was relatively slow in this case only because the activists were precisely the group from whom they had hoped the most— the new generation of Dutch-educated uleebalang. In February 1921, however, Boedjang, Mat Said, and Abdul Latif were all detained. The first two were subsequently interned far from Aceh for the remainder of the Dutch period; the younger T . Abdul Latif proved more flexible during his exile and eventually succeeded his father to become the most influential uleebalang in Lhokseumawe. The movement died remarkably quickly, because the mediation of the uleebalang was essential to it. 43 The same factors which drove these young men to seek support in a populist movement—a modern education and relatively weak ascriptive claims—made it easy for the Dutch to replace them by their brothers. The new gospel which they preached was one of solidarity between the uleebalang and their respective peoples. It was not, could not yet

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

19

be, understood in the sense of solidarity against or in spite of them. The failure of the Sarekat Islam movement and the punishment of its leaders ensured that the experiment would not be repeated by the uleebalang. There were many who must have sympathized with Teuku Boedjang's complaint that the uleebalang were 'played about with, treated like children, the needs of their statelet ignored and its property abused by the [Dutch] official in charge of the treasury . . . some rulers get the impression they are regarded by the official like a beggar or a barking dog'. 44 Several were subsequently dismissed for pursuing just such an indignant line. They attempted, however, neither to act together nor to mobilize their people as their basic source of strength. When next a movement of solidarity emerged among the uleebalang, in 1939, it was directed against populist demands, and it arose not from Lhokseumawe but from Pidie, where the polarization between pergerakan (the popular movement) and kerajaan (the statelets) had become most complete. The monopoly of Dutch-medium education by the uleebalang ensured that they alone would have much continuing interest in Indonesian nationalism, particularly in its more secular form after 1926. The first two Acehnese appointed to sit in the Volksraad (People's Council) in Batavia were both Dutch-educated uleebalang—T. Mohamad Thajeb of Peureulak (1918-20), and T. Njak Arif, Panglima Sagi of the XXVI Mukims in Aceh Besar (1927-30). 45 Both were regarded as failures by the Dutch, partly because of their inability to overcome sectional loyalties within Aceh, but mainly because they quickly associated themselves with the nationalists in the Volksraad. Thajeb, the most westernized Acehnese of his generation, was subsequently dismissed as ruler of Peureulak, largely on account of his growing distrust of Dutch officials, and his 'dreams of a free and united Indonesia'. 46 Dutch officials never lost their concern over this 'disloyal inclination . . . precisely among the so called intellectual uleebalang1 A1 It was this tiny group educated in Dutch-medium schools outside Aceh who patronized the occasional ineffective rally which the largely non-Acehnese population of Kutaraja mounted in support of nationalist causes, and it was they who provided the only contact with such prominent nationalists as Iwa Kusuma Sumantri and M. H. Thamrin when they visited the province. For the overwhelming majority of Acehnese, on the other hand, such issues were totally alien and irrelevant. Even the bond of Islam was insufficient to outweigh the prejudice against Indonesians who had come to Aceh as agents or camp-followers of the conquering Kompeuni. In the 1920s the 8,000 Minangkabaus in Aceh were still apt to be dismissed contemptuously as kaphe Padang, no matter how strictly they

20

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

observed their religious duties. 48 Although Islamic movements had more chance of interesting Acehnese than secular ones, it was a long uphill struggle. West Aceh, and especially the large Minangkabau colony in Tapaktuan, was the natural channel of West Sumatran religious radicalism into Aceh, and in the 1920s the Sumatera Thawalib began to have a considerable impact in that area. Following the 'Bakongan revolt' in 1926-7, however, the Dutch placed such an absolute ban on religiopolitical activity in West Aceh that this region became the most isolated and traditional of any. Muhammadiah, the successor to much of the Sumatera Thawalib's influence in West Sumatra, had learned the expediency of presenting a rigorously non-political face to the Dutch. Founded and led by Dutch-educated urban Muslim modernists in Java, Muhammadiah had built by the 1930s a most impressive network of schools and supportive organizations throughout Indonesia. From the moment it opened its school in Kutaraja in 1928, it represented the most significant national organization in Aceh. Muhammadiah spread quickly to Sigli, Lhokseumawe, and Langsa, but its urban orientation and its identification with Minangkabaus prevented any expansion to rural Aceh. In 1932 it was estimated that only 7 per cent of its members were Acehnese, and only two Acehnese were among the initial class of fifty who enrolled in its Lhokseumawe school. 49 In its endeavour to overcome this limitation Muhammadiah placed itself under the patronage of the most notable of the 'intellectual' uleebalang sympathetic to it. The first Muhammadiah Consul in Aceh (1930-5) was Teuku Mohammad Hasan, 50 one of the ablest young uleebalang attached to a government office in Kutaraja. In 1935 he was called to succeed his father as ruler of Glumpang Payung, in Pidie, and was succeeded as Consul by a younger Acehnese, Teuku Cut Hasan, brother of the uleebalang of Meuraksa and a MULO graduate. Muhammadiah brought these men into sympathetic contact with the Indonesian national movement. T . Cut Hasan carried his nationalism to the point of rejecting office with the government and making explicitly anti-colonial speeches. 51 The Dutch continued to be worried by Muhammadiah, the only organizational threat they perceived in the 1930s. Yet despite the politicization of its uleebalang leadership Dutch officials were anxious that they should retain control, to prevent the greater danger of a challenge to uleebalang dominance of Acehnese society. T o the great majority of Acehnese Muhammadiah and the national movement it represented were extremely remote. The young westernized uleebalang of Kutaraja had hardly more claim on their support than the 'foreign' Minangkabaus and Javanese. The Dutch education

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

21

which drew the sons of some uleebalang closer to the Indonesian national movement could only distance them from the bulk of the Acehnese population. Contemporary with these modern and national activities by some uleebalang, however, others were demonstrating how much loyalty they could evoke on a purely traditional base. The case of Teuku Sabi is a useful reminder of the continued potency of the bond between many, probably most, Acehnese and their uleebalang. T. Sabi was dismissed in 1930 as uleebalang cut (junior uleebalang) of the II Mukims Tunong because of the disturbance evoked by his campaign for autonomy from the uleebalang of Samalanga (Bireuen onderafdeling). For the following seven years his followers refused to be governed by any of the brothers appointed in his stead. In February 1932 half the population, 700 men, simply left the region. They returned a few months later after a compromise settlement, but in the following year ninety people had to be arrested because they refused to pay their taxes to anyone but T. Sabi. This stubborn resistance continued until Sabi was exiled from Aceh altogether in 1937.52 EDUCATION In Dutch eyes the traditional kuranic education the ulama had provided taught Acehnese youths nothing but 'hatred and scorn for the kafir' and the ability 'to drone a few uncomprehended kuranic texts'.53 An exceptional effort was put into replacing this with a government system of schools, less out of idealism or a desire for educated officials than as an integral part of the strategy of 'pacification'. In the first place this meant educating the sons of uleebalang, the future rulers, in the language, outlook, and bureaucratic practice of the ruling power. This was provided in what came to be known as Dutch-native schools (H.I.S.), of which there were by 1938 eight in Aceh with about 1,500 pupils. A few of the more successful uleebalang sons were sent for secondary education to Bukittinggi or to Java, although it was regarded as much more desirable to keep them in Aceh, where a MULO was opened for them in the 1930s. Most uleebalang showed considerable enthusiasm for this Dutch-medium education, so manifestly suited to their changing role. For the masses a simple three-year volkschool was first initiated in 1907, designed to teach reading and writing in romanized Malay. This was a much less popular idea. During their first decade these Dutchsponsored schools were equated with training to become a kafir and the idea was circulated that those who learned to write the romanized script would lose their right hand in the hereafter. As late as 1919, when the nominal enrolment at volkschools had risen to 15,000, coercion was

22

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

still applied to obtain regular attendance. 54 Fathers of non-attending pupils might even be forced into extra labour on the roads. Despite this unpromising beginning, however, there were by 1935 over 33,000 children attending volkschools in Aceh willingly, a slightly higher proportion than in Java or Indonesia as a whole. 55 In the neighbourhood of the towns and the main roads, enthusiasm for the new schools was particularly marked. The crucial years for this change in attitude appear to have been the early 1920s. The parallel is striking with the positive attitudes to modernization pioneered at the same time in the political arena by Sarekat Islam. Soon the very elementary grounding provided by the three-year volkschools failed to satisfy those Acehnese who had tasted a little of the new life of the towns. Apart from a further two years of Malay-medium education for the wealthier Acehnese (3,200 were at such courses in 1938), the government provided virtually no access for commoners to the precious western knowledge. T h e demand by graduates of the volkschools from the late 1920s was therefore met privately. The two great educational organizations of Indonesia, Muhammadiah and Taman Siswa, entered Aceh in 1928 and 1932 respectively, in part as a deliberate demonstration of the Indonesian unity they both championed. By 1938 these two organizations operated a total of seven Dutch-medium primary schools (H.I.S.) in the towns, almost as many as the government. They had in addition an elaborate structure of kindergartens, 'link' schools from the Malay medium, and teachers' colleges. Despite sincere attempts to dress its national message in Acehnese clothes, however, Taman Siswa could as little escape the Javanese label as Muhammadiah could the Minangkabau. U p to 1942 the majority of their pupils, and almost all their teachers, were non-Acehnese. Not until an educational movement truly Acehnese in its leadership and its religious inspiration began to attract the graduates of the government volkschools could the thirst for modernization affect the mass of Acehnese. This movement of the 1930s was to arise from the ranks of traditional ulama.

THE RELIGIOUS

REVIVAL

Almost all Acehnese boys, both those who attended the new government volkschools and the greater number who did not, spent some time with the ulama, learning to recite the Kuran in Arabic as for centuries past. By the late 1920s, however, the teaching style of the dayah, the highest level of Islamic school in Aceh, was challenged by the volkschools on the one hand, and the new concepts of organization and education rep-

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

23

resented by Muhammadiah on the other. A few prominent ulama responded eagerly to the challenge by establishing schools with a broader syllabus and more modern methods. To teach the less traditional subjects they relied on the trickle of young men who had gone to modern Islamic schools in West Sumatra in the 1920s, and even a few who had studied in Java, in Egypt, or in Mecca. The better schools were not only compatible with the volkschools, but increasingly required the three-year government course as a prerequisite. From the late 1920s such schools began to 'spring up like mushrooms from the ground', with many uleebalang competing in their patronage of them. 56 Among the most famous were the progressive Perguruan Islam of Teungku Abdul Wahab in Seulimeum (of which the beginnings took shape in 1926); Syed Husein's Madrasah Ahlu's-Sunnah wal Djama'ah established in Idi in 1928; Teungku Abdul Rahman's Al-Islam Peusangan opened in 1930 under the powerful patronage of the ruler of Peusangan: and Teungku Sjech Ibrahim's DJADAM (Jamiatuddiniyah Al-Mustaslah) in Montasiek in late 1931. Because they represented reform within the Acehnese social context, promoted by accepted Muslim leaders, these schools wrought a much more profound change in rural Aceh than the more religiously radical and politically nationalist Muhammadiah. Many of the young teachers who had studied at the Thawalib-school or other reformist institutions in West Sumatra were regarded as kaum muda (young group, reformist), opposing such traditional Acehnese practices as funeral feasts and the repetition of the daily sembahyang luhur (noon prayer) after the Friday prayer. Although these issues had aroused considerable ill-feeling in the 1920s, the religious revival of the 1930s was able to transcend them. Solidarity was forged in a common struggle in 1932 against the government's 'wild schools ordinance' on the one hand, and the heterodox Ahmadiah (Qadian) movement on the other. Even religious conservatives, moreover, began to realize that new methods of organization and instruction were imperative, even if once associated with kaum muda.5"7 One of the school-building efforts deserves further attention because of the wide organization and charismatic leadership it was able to develop. This was the Jamiatul Diniyah established by Mohammad Daud Beureu'eh at Garot, near Sigli, in 1930.58 Daud, born at Beureu'eh, in Keumangan, in 1899, had had all his education at traditional religious schools within his native Pidie. He was nevertheless receptive to new ways of promoting religious education and practice, as well as popular welfare, and he quickly made a name for himself as a highly gifted and persuasive orator. In the 1920s the outspoken young ulama had had to leave Keumangan because of a quarrel with its unscrupulous old ulee-

24

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

balang, Teuku Oemar. With the protection of Tuanku Raja Keumala, chief religious adviser to the Dutch Governor, he had gone to teach successively in Tapaktuan (West Aceh) and Lhokseumawe, in each case demonstrating great skill and energy in overcoming kaum mudakaum tua antagonisms. At this stage Daud Beureu'eh was still a young man, a tireless organizer and conciliator rather than a famous ulama. In establishing his Jamiatul Diniyah he nevertheless gained the support of many of Pidie's most distinguished religious scholars, including the famous Teungku Haji Abdullah Ujung Rimba. Among the valuable keys to this support were the letters of another distinguished Acehnese ulama, Teungku Syech Abdul Hamid, exiled to Mecca for his part in the Sarekat Islam activity, which invoked the example of Egypt and Ibn Saud's Arabia for the path of reforming Islamic education. Jamiatul Diniyah established its first school at Blang Pase, in Pineueng, in 1931, and others soon followed in Ie Leubeue and Kelapa Satu. Although a few uleebalang were associated with its foundation, 59 Jamiatul Diniyah could not rely like most of the other new schools on a single powerful uleebalang patron. The rivalries among the fragmented Pidie statelets were too great, and the richest of them, Keumangan, was hostile. This weakness became a strength in the hands of Daud Beureu'eh, who took his appeal to the people by extensive use of tabligh (public sermons). While the succession of ephemeral reformist movements in the larger towns of Aceh were lucky to draw a few hundred to a meeting, as many as 7,500 villagers might come on foot to some small rural mosque for one of the Jamiatul Diniyah's tabligh.60 It was especially the young leader of the movement that people wanted to hear. Where Sarekat Islam had made a political appeal in religious dress, Daud Beureu'eh belonged to the authentic tradition of religious revival. Change was required in the first place in men's hearts, in their willingness to fulfil conscientiously their religious duties. The Dutch and the uleebalang quite rightly tolerated and even welcomed the revival, which appeared rather to overcome than to create tensions such as those between kaum muda and kaum tua.G1 In the long run, however, the new movement was to be more successful than Sarekat Islam in showing Acehnese a path that led forward rather than back. In Dutch eyes the change which began to come over Aceh in the 1930s was welcomed as 'normalization'. Atjeh-moord and the oath to die as muslimin had virtually disappeared by 1940. The journalist Zentgraaff remarked in 1938 that since his previous visit nine years earlier the border between Aceh and the rest of the colony had ceased to be noticeable. The acceptance of western-style dress, which prior to 1929 had been associated indelibly with the kafir for ordinary Acehnese, was only the

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

25

most spectacular change. 62 T o younger Acehnese writers of the time what was happening was an exciting total transformation of their society, marked not only by modern schools and organizational life, but by newspapers, irrigation projects, and shops and businesses in Acehnese hands. 63 'Awareness' (kesadaran) and 'consciousness' (keinsafan) were the key words by which the younger writers described this transformation, and for many of them it was pre-eminently Daud Beureu'eh who deserved the title, 'Father of the self-awareness of the Acehnese people'. 64

PUSA The climax of this reformist enthusiasm was the organizational unity provided in 1939-42 by PUSA (Persatuan Ulama Seluruh Aceh—AllAceh Ulama Association). The Association emerged from a carefully prepared conference convened in May 1939 by Tgk. Abdul Rahman of the Al-Islam school movement in Peusangan. Stressing the need to standardize Islamic education in Aceh, the conference brought together most of the leaders of the purely Acehnese Islamic schools of modern type. The leadership selected at the conference, however, showed that its main base of strength was in Pidie and the north coast of Aceh. Daud Beureu'eh as chairman, Noer el Ibrahimy as first secretary, and T . M. Amin as treasurer all resided in Sigli, where the PUSA headquarters was established. The other significant leaders were the principal promoters of the founding conference, both from the Bireuen area— Teungku Abdul Rahman (vice-chairman) and Ismail Jakoeb (second secretary and eventual editor of the PUSA journal Penjoeloeh). West Aceh, where reformism had been inhibited by the Dutch since 1926, was unrepresented. Aceh Besar was represented in the executive by Tgk. Abdul Wahab of Seulimeum, yet PUSA here had to compete with some well-established rivals. 65

0

Aceh Besar was the centre of Muhammadiah activity, the home of ftjLJLoJuj some progressive uleebalang, and the destination of many of those young Acehnese returning in the 1930s from a modern and somewhat nation/i£/$l alist religious education in West Sumatra,, From these elements had sprung a succession of Islamic reformist groups. In 1938 Ali Hasjmy and other Minangkabau-educated teachers in Seulimeum had also formed an active pemuda (youth) group eventually labelled Peramiindo. 66 Especially from the time of its first Congress near Sigli in April 1940, PUSA was clearly the nearest approach to a popular movement of an all-Aceh character, and began to attract existing groups under its umbrella. A scout movement in Bireuen dating from 1934, Kasjsjafatoel Islam, became the PUSA scouts. The Seulimeum Peramiindo and a

26

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

Sigli youth group under Hasan Aly, Pemuda Aceh Sepakat, associated themselves with PUSA, but they retained their identity and rejected the PUSA youth group, Pemuda PUSA. The latter had been founded at the 1940 congress wlieir~a~brash young ulama from Idi (East Aceh) had volunteered for its leadership with the cry, saya sanggup ('I can do it'). 67 With this characteristic beginning Tgk. Amir Hoesain, who rejoiced in the nickname Almujahid (the fighter), had become the leader of Pemuda PUSA, and Idi its headquarters. It gathered a large following among religious school pupils, but its style did not appeal to some of the urban and Dutch-educated youth. Among Acehnese ulama, two prominent elements remained aloof from PUSA: firstly some conservative day ah teachers, especially in Aceh Besar and West Aceh, and secondly the leading Acehnese theologian in Muhammadiah, Teungku Mohd. Hasbi As-Siddiqy. Nevertheless there was by 1941 some truth in the claim that PUSA was coming to represent 'the voice of the people of Aceh'. 68 If we look at the whole history of Dutch relations with Aceh, it may seem extraordinary that such a potentially powerful weapon for resistance was allowed to arise under ulama leadership. This was precisely what the earliest Dutch 'pacifiers' most feared. Myopic as it seems by hindsight, however, it was Muhammadiah which the Dutch distrusted in the 1930s, precisely because it was a non-Acehnese organization responsive to the currents of Indonesian nationalism—which had now replaced Islam as the great colonial bogey. By contrast Dutch officials in Aceh were apt to look with paternal warmth upon reforming movements of a distinctly Acehnese character, as suggested in this remark of Governor Goedhart. 69 'I do not despair of an eventual good understanding between us and the Acehnese people. The exclusiveness of the Acehnese and his strongly developed sense of his own worth will, I predict, in the long run persuade him of the advantage of being bound to us rather than being absorbed into one Indonesian people.' This sentiment, together with the realization by progressives such as Governor Paauw (1938-42) and his secretary Dr Piekaar that commitment to the uleebalang had put the Atjeh-politiek in an impasse where some new initiatives were required, explains the relative indulgence of the Dutch towards PUSA. Opponents of the new movement alleged that it was in fact a tool of the government. 70 The close association of its foundation with the uleebalang most beloved by the Dutch, T . Chik Peusangan, lent some credibility to the charge, although in practice he represented protection rather than guidance. Except for the personal bitterness between its chairman, Daud Beureu'eh, and Teuku Oemar of Keumangan, there was little in the orientation of PUSA that implied hostility to the uleebalang. The projects

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

27

which attracted most of its activity and pride were the establishment of an Islamic teachers' college at Bireuen in December 1939; agreement on an approved curriculum for religious schools and on a way of fixing the beginning of the fasting month; and the launching of its monthly, Penjoeloeh, in November 1940. Uleebalang attended the major PUSA conferences, and the leadership maintained a correct tone towards them. The peculiarly tense situation at the moment of PUSA'S birth, however, ensured that the new movement would be seen as a political factor of great importance. ULEEBALANG UNDER

FIRE

The events of the last four years of Dutch rule in Aceh indicate a very rapid erosion of the effectiveness of the bond between the uleebalang and their subjects. Some of the changes in attitude must have begun much earlier, prompted by the changed economic role of the uleebalang and the emergence of stronger counter-elites, represented by the small traders beginning to flourish in such places as Sigli, Garut, Bireuen, and Idi, 71 the reformist schools, and the nationalist-inclined youth coming back from West Sumatran schools. To extend Scott's model, 72 a change occurred during the 1930s in the 'terms of trade' not only between peasants and uleebalang, but also between the latter and the colonial government. The old assumption that the Dutch would be helpless in Aceh without the uleebalang no longer appeared convincing, and some saw the roles reversed. w The first fruit of a new Dutch attitude was the dismissal in 1938 of Teuku Oemar, the rich ruler of i.Keumangan, not because of 'disloyal' inclinations as in previous dismissals, but because of the spate of complaints against his exploitation and malpractice. When these complaints had begun about 1930 the Dutch had simply braced themselves to resist a klewang attack from the aggrieved parties, 73 but now more positive measures were possible. The flexibility of Governor Paauw was similarly apparent in official tolerance of a press campaign against uleebalang oppression on the one hand, and appeals for basic change in the political structure of Aceh on the other. Resentment against the oppressive and scandalous behaviour of some uleebalang was suddenly galvanized in November 1938 by a broadside from the Medan weekly Penjedar. Written anonymously by H. M. Zainuddin, an experienced Acehnese agricultural specialist and nationalist, it demanded that the government abandon its old Atjeh-politiek and take its investigations much further than Keumangan. 'Many things are brought to our attention; we hear that ruler A murders people, ruler B seizes the property of his people, ruler C suppresses people's

28

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

rights, ruler D perjures himself, etc. etc.' 74 This daring attack unleashed a flood of complaints and denunciations of uleebalang behaviour over the next eighteen months. Most of the articles anonymously sent in were from Pidie. Three young petty traders of Sigli—Hasan Aly, Peutua Husain, and Djohan Ahmad—were especially active as agents and correspondents first for Penjedar, and from August 1939 for the new Medan weekly Seruan KitaJ5 An early example of the catalogue of complaints was that of Djohan Ahmad: 'Among the Acehnese rulers there are also those who embezzle the property of orphans, and the Baitalmal (proceeds of religious tax), who seize religious endowments as their own property, who bring goods in by smuggling, who ravish young girls, who accuse people of murder without cause, and do whatever else they please.' 76 Penjedar and Seruan Kita became the most widely read journals in Aceh, and according to some correspondents they acted as a more effective check on uleebalang licence than the courts. 77 Of the three major reforms sought by various correspondents, it was the formation of a representative council in Aceh and removal of the courts from uleebalang control which were most pressed by serious progressives. The importance of the latter issue was made painfully clear in May 1940 when the three principal promoters of the press campaign in Pidie were imprisoned on a charge of conspiring against the government, though lack of evidence brought the release of Hasan Aly and Djohan Ahmad. 78 This blow effectively ended the press campaign. It was however the third idea for reform, the restoration of the Aceh sultanate, which aroused the strongest emotions in Aceh. In part this was because the government appeared to be seriously considering it, as an extension of the policy of re-emphasizing indirect rule which had recently brought rajas back to Bali and to Goa (South Sulawesi). The Volksraad in Batavia had on the whole supported the sultanate in July 1938, in the hope it might reduce the fragmentation of government in Aceh. 79 Government policy was still not clear in January 1939, when a spate of pro-sultanate petitions from ulama, small traders, and others in Aceh suddenly brought it into the news. These appeals may, as the uleebalang alleged, have been prompted by the leading member of the former royal family, Tuanku Mahmud. I Having no place in the uleebalang power system, some of the old royal family had attached themselves closely to the Dutch. Mahmud himself had been appointed in 1929 as adviser to the Governor on popular movements because he 'knows how to stand above factions, and is very \,- loyal towards Netherlands authority'. 80 For the same reasons the Governor-General had named him Acehnese representative in the Volksraad since 1931. He was too ineffective a spokesman for Acehnese interests

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

29

to arouse much enthusiasm in Aceh, however, particularly among the uleebalang. In December 1938 the uleebalang of Aceh Besar urged the government to replace Mahmud by one of their own number for the 1939-42 Volksraad. When the restoration of the sultanate leapt into the headlines the following month, to a background of press denunciations of uleebalang oppression, the more politically conscious among them believed Tuanku Mahmud was at the head of a broad counter-offensive against their positions. In their spirited defence of the status quo in early 1940, they for the first time gave the impression of an organized bloc, representing a particular vested interest. In reality it was only the rulers of Pidie, led by the former Muhammadiah Consul T. Mohammad Hasan (Glumpang Payung), who publicly formed a solid front against a restored sultanate. At two meetings on 27 January and 4 March they organized an uleebalang committee to fight the sultanate and oppose Tuanku Mahmud as a Volksraad delegate through appeals to government and circulars to their fellow uleebalang. The Governor had some difficulty quietening their campaign in March by attempting to assure them that the government had no current plans for constitutional changes in Aceh.81 Even though the issue was played out by the middle of 1940, a fundamental change had occurred in the image of the uleebalang. As Bailey has remarked of the Indian rajas, 'Once such men begin to behave like outsiders [by political campaigning], then inevitably they take on the role of outsiders and lose their place in the moral community of the peasants.'82 Something of the kind was happening to the uleebalang of Pidie in 1939. It is particularly significant that the best educated of them, T. M. Hasan, previously seen as a progressive representative of the nationalist movement, had taken on the role of spokesman. In September he too was explicitly denounced in the Medan press as guilty of a case of oppression as bad as that of his old-fashioned colleagues.83 Although the sense of group interest was nowhere as strong as in Pidie, the uleebalang of Aceh Besar were sufficiently affected by the change in mood to form their own union in October 1939.84 Neither the promoters of the restoration of the sultanate, nor the assailants of the uleebalang in the Medan press, had any particular connexion with the leaders of PUSA. Yet the defensiveness with which | the uleebalang reacted to these two threats thrust upon PUSA the role of harbinger of change. All of the anti-establishment forces gradually associated themselves with either PUSA or Pemuda PUSA, transforming them in the process into broader and more political organizations. The first clear sign that PUSA was headed for conflict with the ulee- ( balang came on predictable religious grounds. In September 1939 its ' executive politely requested that religious teaching be removed from

30

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

the jurisdiction of the 'native chiefs'. 85 Soon after some of the PUSA leaders toured West Aceh to arouse support, and made a point of holding lengthy discussions with Teuki Sabi, ruler of the insignificant Lageuen statelet (Calang onderafdeling).86 Since T . Sabi was the only uleebalang to have publicly supported restoration of the sultanate and became a heroic leader of the anti-Dutch revolt in 1942 (see below), the discussions seem likely to have centred on dissatisfaction with the status quo. Another sign of PUSA'S assumption of the role of spokesman for resistance was the promotion in 1940-1 of the fighting ulama Teungku Chik di Tiro as the proper hero of the Aceh war, in place of the uleebalang T . Umar. 87 Daud Beureu'eh dates his own awareness of uleebalang enmity to the establishment of PUSA'S teachers' college in Peusangan in December 1939. T h e Dutch initially forbade the principal of the college, Teungku Noer el Ibrahimy, to take office because of his past anticolonial writings. On appeal the Dutch Assistant-Resident agreed to accept a guarantee from the original patron of PUSA, T . Chik Peusangan. He gave it with such bad grace, however, that Daud Beureu'eh subsequently trusted him as little as he did the uleebalang in Pidie. 88 One by one those who had been sympathetic to PUSA began to fear its strength and to oppose it where possible. The approach of war with the Japanese ensured that divisive polemic disappeared from the newspapers, but intensified in men's minds. One of the few who have recorded the tension on the eve of the Pacific war is the Medan Muhammadiah leader, Hamka: As time went on the rajas of Aceh became aware of where PUSA was leading. The people became ever more conscious of their situation and of their rights. They had become confident enough to demand their rights and make the rajas aware of their duties. . . . The PUSA movement was seen as dangerous . . . since this conflict had arisen with PUSA, Teuku Cut Hasan had used the [Muhammadiah] organization to defend their political position. Immediately, in 1941, people everywhere were asking to establish Muhammadiah. Very many members joined, in hundreds and even thousands, indeed a whole mukim or statelet. . . . Muhammadiah was established in various mukims one after the other. Teuku Cut Hasan worked hard day and night, but it was clear what his purpose was. It was to 'defend' the position of the uleebalang. I was invited to Blang Jeureuen for an open meeting on 7 December 1941! There, besides the tension in the international situation, the tension could also be clearly felt between the people (whose incarnation was PUSA) and the uleebalang (whose incarnation was Muhammadiah) in Aceh. I myself when I met friends from the PUSA group, with whom I had long had good relations, was greeted by them with eyes full of hate. For I was someone who defended Muhammadiah very strongly.89

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

31

I was flabbergasted to hear the bitter words which came from Teuku Cut Hasan's mouth. He ridiculed the PUSA organisation. . . . He went beyond the limits of what ought to be said in the Muhammadiah organization. He also discussed politics and history, defending the name of the uleebalang of Aceh, who apparently had been accused by PUSA of being traitors to their people. 90 T h e final consequence of the D u t c h occupation of Aceh was a bitterly divided society.

1. Politiek Verslag Atjeh, 1927, p. 2, signed Goedhart, in Mailrapport 221 x /28, Colonial Archive of Departement van Binnenlandse Zaken, The Hague. I am indebted to Prof. James Siegel for drawing my attention to this and many other documents in this chapter. 2. J. Kreemer, Atjeh, 2 vols. (Leiden, E. J. Brill, 1922-3), I, p. 43. 3. Teungku is the Acehnese honorific generally used for ulama. Except in eastern Aceh uleebalang used the title Teuku (abbreviated T.). 4. Liefriijk report, 31 July 1909, pp. 53-5, in Mailr. 1280/09; Anthony Reid, The Contest for North Sumatra, pp. 187-8 and 296. The shortage of manpower greatly altered landlord-tenant relations in favour of the latter. In 1898 they gave nothing to the landlord for the first three or four years and one-fifth of the crop thereafter, whereas the landlord took half the crop in normal times. Adatrechtbundels, 27 (1928), p. 16. 5. Memorie van Overgave van den afgetreden Gouverneur van Atjeh en onderhoorigheden [henceforth MvO Atjeh] A.Ph. van Aken, 1936, p. 1, Mailr. 504 x /36. 6. MvO Atjeh, Lt.-Gen. Swart, 1918, p. 14, Mailr. 2398/18. 7. An example of Acehnese resentment of corvee is in the verse epic Hikayat Perang Sabil, ed. H. T . Damste, BKI, 84 (1928), pp. 594-5. See also Liefrink report, 1909, pp. 4-9, loc. cit.; Kreemer II, pp. 150-3; R. Broersma, Atjeh, als land voor handel en bedrijf (Utrecht, Cohen, 1925), pp. 123-4; Governor Van Sluys, 26 November 1921, Mailr. 1265 x /21. Broersma points out that the twenty-four days theoretical maximum herendienst per year was frequently exceeded, ambitious Dutch officials considering this to be a sign of skilful administration. The opportunity to commute the labour obligation into money was offered to only two districts experimentally in 1919, but to all Aceh by 1922. The extent to which this opportunity was used depended of course on economic circumstances. In the 1930s very few could afford the money equivalent. 8. Ibrahim Alfian, 'Kontak Kebudajaan diawal Abad XX, dan akibatnja bagi Masjarakat Atjeh', stencilled, pp. 2-3. 9. My translation from A. Hasjmy, Hikajat Prang Sabi mendjiwai Perang Atjeh lawan Belanda (Banda Atjeh, 'Pustaka Faraby', 1971), pp. 203-8. T h e Hikayat Perang Sabil, apparently written in 1881 by Teungku Cik Pante Kulu, has survived very adverse circumstances in a number of diverse and scrappy texts. The most complete published text is that used by Hasjmy, in the form of four stories from Arabic originals with an opening exhortation.

32

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE A scrappier but probably earlier text, captured in Gayoland in 1903, was published by Damsti in BKI, 84 (1928), pp. 545-608, and parts of it have been nicely Englished by James Siegel, The Rope of God (Berkeley, California 1969), pp. 75-7.

10. Politiek Verslag Atjeh, 1st halfjaar 1929, p. 23, Mailr. 856 x /29. 11. Politiek Verslag Atjeh, 1st halfjaar 1926, pp. 1-6, Mailr. 899 x /26. 12. Politiek Verslag Atjeh, 1933, pp. 3-5, Mailr. 377geh/34. 13. 'Nota betreffende het voorgevallen in de zelfstandige moekim Leupoeeng', in Mailr. 118 x /38. A sign of the changing times was the criticism of Dutch overreaction by the nationalist Soangkoepon in the Volksraad; Handelingen, 1938-9, p . 660. 14. J. Jongejans, Land en Volk van Atjeh, vroeger en nu (Baarn, Hollandia Drukkerij, 1939), p. 331. Paul van't Veer, De Atjeh-oorlog (Amsterdam, Arbeiderspers, 1969), p . 295. Less than a quarter of these attacks resulted in the death of the European victim. ^- 15. A. J. Piekaar, Atjeh en de oorlog met Japan (The Hague, Van Hoeve, 1949), p. 3. 16. Liefrink report, 31 July 1909, pp. 66-7, Mailr. 1280/09. 17. Broersma, p. 123; MvO Atjeh, Goedhart, 1929, pp. 31-2, Mailr. 28 x /29: M. H. du Croo, General Swart: Pacificator van Atjeh (Maastricht, NeiterNypels, 1943), pp. 130-1. 18. I use this artificial word for an artificial concept which in Dutch was rendered landschap or (in Aceh) uleebalangschap. It was that part of Netherlands India over which the Dutch had acknowledged the hereditary claims of a ruler, who had signed either the Korte Verklaring of complete submission or (in the case of six East Sumatran rulers) a long Political Contract. T h e population of such statelets varied from 354 (Pameue, in West Aceh) to 321,278 (Deli), and the social realities in many of them were indistinguishable from such directly ruled areas as Aceh Besar. I have avoided the Acehnese word nanggroe (Malay/Indonesian negeri—state, or region) both because of its vagueness and because Acehnese themselves found it increasingly necessary to use Dutch terms for a concept which was essentially part of Dutch colonial convention. 19. MvO Atjeh, Goedhart, 1929, pp. 23-7, 31-3, 41, and 74, Mailr. 287 x /29. 20. Ibid., p. 4 1 . 21. C. van Vollenhoven, De Indonesier en zijn grond (Leiden, E. J. Brill, 1932), pp. 5-7; Julius Jacobs, Het Familie en Kampongleven op Groot-Atjeh, 2 vols. (Leiden, E. J. Brill, 1894), II, pp. 109-12. 22. Siegel, The Rope of God, pp. 14-23; Kreemer, II, pp. 142-3 and 249-5023. Siegel, pp. 26-9. 24. A table of allowances is in Mailr. 2651/35 (Verb.6-4-27). For royalties see MvO Atjeh, Van Aken, 1936, pp. 149-50, Mailr. 504 x /36. 25. Piekaar, p. 8. 26. Teuku Ibrahim Alfian, 'Sebuah studi pendahuluan tentang kontak kebudajaan di Atjeh pada awal abad XX', Kirsada (Fakultas Sastera, Universitas

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

33

Gajah Mada), no. 1 (1969), p . 121n, notes that the car of the uleebalang of Bambi was popularly referred to as his 'zakat car'. 27. MvO Atjeh, Van Aken, 1936, p. 52, Mailr. 504 x /36. For uleebalang activity in coffee, pepper, and rubber, see ibid., p. 67; MvO Lammeulo, Scholten, 1933, pp. 102-5 and 122-4, Koninklijk Instituut voor de Tropen, Amsterdam (hereafter referred to as Tropen). 28. Broersma, p. 79. 29. Siegel, pp. 27 and 87. This information dates from the 1960s and must be treated with caution, particularly in view of the silence of contemporary records. Piekaar, p. 8, mentions the extensive land-holding of Pidie uleebalang, but like other Dutch observers he appears to regard it as a traditional phenomenon. 30. Notably the great compound of T . Oemar at Bireuneun, the capital of Keumangan, described by Broersma, pp. 82-3. 31. MvO Atjeh, Van Aken, 136, p. 5, Mailr. 504 x /36. 32. MvO Lammeulo, Scholten, 1933, p. 83, Tropen. T h e uleebalang concerned were those of three small statelets in Lammeulo onderafdeling: Cot Murong, Andeue, and Truseb. 33. MvO Atjeh, Van Aken, 1936, p. 5, Mailr. 504 x /36. 34. Piekaar, pp. 7-11 and 335. 35. H. C. Zentgraaff, Atjeh (Batavia, De Unie, 1938), p . 50. 36. Kreemer, I, pp. 238-9. Koloniaal Verslag, 1917, cols. 9-12. Governor Swart did, however, encourage the younger uleebalang around him in Kutaraja to form an exclusively Acehnese 'Sarekat Atjeh', rather than follow the lead from Java. 37. Speech by Abdul Manap at an open-air S.I. meeting in Geudong (Lhokseumawe onderaf deling), as recounted in Proces-verbaal Nja' Gam, 23 April 1921, Mailr. 1259 x /21. For similar aspects of Sarekat Islam at the local level in Java see Sartono Kartodirdjo, Protest Movements in Rural Java (Singapore, OUP, 1973), pp. 159 and 198-201. 38. Controleur M . van Rhyn, citing statements of Teungku Jid, 31 May 1921, Mailr. 1259 x /21. For the air yasin oath see Proces-verbaal Nja' Gam, loc. cit. 39. In Hindia Sepakat, 9 July 1921, Boedjang claimed his Islam Menjadi Satu had almost 4,000 members, though Dutch reports suggest it was effectively limited to his own Nisam (1930 popn. 9,600). Boedjang stated his position at great length in a series of articles in the Sibolga daily Hindia Sepakat, edited by the schoolteacher Abdul Manap (former S.I. propagandist in Lhokseumawe) between July and September 1921. Sympathetic articles are devoted to him in Seruan Kita, 1 December 1939; Penjedar, 30 January 1941; and Penjoeloeh, February 1941. The Dutch indictment of the three S.I. uleebalang is in Mailr. 1259 x /21. 40. Governor Van Sluys to Governor-General, 8 October 1921, Mailr. 1049 x /21. 41. T . Abul Latif, T . Boedjang, and T . Mat Said to Governor Aceh, 17 N o vember 1920, in Mailr. 1259 x /21. 42. Governor VanSluys to Governor-General, 8 Octoberl921, Mailr. 1049 x /21.

34

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

43. Probably the last representative of this wave of uleebalang resistance was T . Muhamad Ali Basjah, the uleebalang of Matang Kuli (Lhoksukon onderafdeling) who was arrested in 1923, but received with such excitement on his release in 1926 that he was rearrested for spreading 'communist' ideas and opposing established authority. MvO Atjeh, Goedhart, 1929, Mailr. 287 x /29. 44. T. Boedjang in Hindia Sepakat, 29 September 1921.

Ill

45. Teuku Njak Arif (1899-1946) was born in Uleeheue and educated at the Bukittinggi Teachers' College (Kweekschool) and the School for Indonesian Officials (OSVIA) in Serang. He replaced his father as Panglima Sagi of the XXVI Mukim, in Aceh Besar, in 1920. Like Thajeb and other early nationalists he married a non-Acehnese—a Minangkabau. In both Dutch and Japanese periods he gained a reputation for courageously speaking his mind to high and low alike. Although he was to fall foul of the revolution (see Chapter VII) he was declared an Indonesian 'national hero' in 1976. 46. 'Beschrijving van het zelfbesturende landschap Peureulak', 12 December 1935, Mailr. 338geh/36. 47. MvO Atjeh, Van Aken, 1936, p. 5, Mailr. 504 x /36. 48. Abdoel Ghafoer Achier, in Sinar 7/8, 15 April 1940. 49. MvO Atjeh, Philips, 1932, Mailr. 1642/32; Politiek Verslag Atjeh, 1929, p. 9, Mailr. 143 x /30. 50. Teuku Mohammad Hasan of Glumpang Payung (1893-1944) was known in European circles as 'Hasan Dik' (fat Hasan). He attended primary schools in Sigli and Bukittinggi and continued his study at the Teachers' College (Kweekschool) in Bukittinggi in 1907-12. He assisted his father in administering Glumpang Payung until 1918, when he was brought into provincial government in Kutaraja by the Dutch. He worked primarily in the office dealing with landschapskas of the statelets, and held the rank of ambtenaar tot beschikking. In 1921 he studied briefly at an administrative school in Java. After succeeding his father as ruler of Glumpang Payung, one of the larger Pidie statelets, he gradually assumed the role of political spokesman for the Pidie uleebalang. 51. At the 1939 Muhammadiah Congress in Medan Cut Hasan was among the most openly political speakers, and was warned by the police; Politiek Verslag SOK, July 1939, p. 10, Mailr. 1106geh/39. 52. Politieke Nota betreffende T . Sabi, 17 July 1936, Mailr. 468 x /37. 53. MvO Atjeh, Swart, 1918, pp. 12-13, Mailr. 2398/18. 54. Ibrahim Alfian, in Kirsada, 1, pp. 124-5; Kreemer, II, pp. 159-69; Jongejans, Land en Volk van Atjeh, pp. 249-50. 55. The comparative figures are in Atlas van Tropisch Nederland (1938), p. 9. The leeway being rapidly made up in Aceh is shown by the discrepancy between this figure and the very low figure for literacy in the roman alphabet at the 1930 census (1.1 per cent of Aceh's total population, against 5.5 per cent for Java). 56. T h e same image is used in MvO Atjeh, Van Aken, 1936, Mailr. 504 x /36, and M. A. Samij, in Penjoeloeh 2 (December 1940), p. 40. 57. H. Ismuha, 'Lahirnja "Persatuan Ulama Seluruh Atjeh" 30 Tahun Jang

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

35

Lalu', Sinar Damssalam 14 (June 1969), p. 44; Moehammaddijah Hadji, 'Wadjah Rakjat Atjeh dalam Lintasan Sedjarah', Seminar Kebudajaan dalam rangka Pekan Kebudajaan Atjeh ke-II (Banda Atjeh, stencil, 1972), pp. 6-9. 58. Although various dates between 1927 and 1932 appear in later literature for the founding of Jamiatul Diniyah, the correct date, 6 March 1930, appears in a contemporary journal, Soeara Atjeh, 15 March 1930. 59. Particularly T . Bintara (Pineueng), in whose statelet the first school was established, and T . Muda Dalam (Bambi), who was vice-president of the organization in 1933 despite his reputation as a playboy. 60. This attendance, for a tabligh in the mosque of Bambi in February 1933, is reported in Politiek Verslag Atjeh, 1st halfjaar 1933, pp. 9-10. The population of Bambi Statelet was only 5,600. Other tabligh drew 1,500 to 2,000 at Garut, 1,500 at Ie Leubeue, and 800 at Kelapa Satu. 61. Moehammaddijah Hadji, pp. 4 - 6 ; Politiek Verslag Atjeh, 1932, pp. 18-19, Mailr. 667 x /33; Ismail Jakoeb, 'Soeasana Pergerakan di Atjeh dalam 10 Tahoen', Sinar 778, 15 April 1940, pp. 125-7. 62. H. C. Zentgraaff and W. A. van Goudoever, Sumatraantjes (Batavia, 'JavaBode', n.d.), p. 167. While Moehammaddijah Hadji, p. 7, dates the Aceh 'clothing revolution' at 1929, and associates it with the Islamic school movement, Zentgraaff ascribes it to better roads and the cinema. 63. Acehnese progress at the expense of Chinese and Indian businessmen, especially in the Sigli area, is hailed by Osman Raliby, 'Masjarakat Atjeh Baroe', Penjoeloeh, 12 (October 1941), p. 180. Also MvO Atjeh, Van Aken, 1936, p. 35, Mailr. 504 x /36. 64. Njo Meunan, in Seruan Kita, II, 29 (9 February 1940), pp. 634-5. The phrase is Bapak kesadaran rakyat Aceh. Some features of the thought of this period are discussed in Siegel, pp. 98-133. 65. Ismuha, op. cit., pp. 44-5; Osman Raliby, in Penjoeloeh, 12 (October 1941), p. 180; Nja' Gam Tjoet in Sinar Deli, 28 April 1939, cited IPO, 6 May 1939, pp. 329-31. Abdullah Arif, 'Tindjauan Sedjarah Pergerakan di Atjeh', Bingkisan Kenang2an Kongres Besar Pusa, 1950-1, pp. 17-22. 66. The name significantly changed in 1939 from an Acehnese identity, Serikat Pemuda Islam Atjeh (SEPIA), to an Indonesian one, Pergerakan Angkatan Muda Islam Indonesia (Peramiindo). A. Hasjmy, 'Riwajat Kongres di Tanah Iskandar Moeda', Penjoeloeh, 16 (15 December 1941), p. 253. Among the short-lived reform groups in Kutaraja were Nadil Islahil Islamy in 1932 and Persatuan guru Islam di Atjeh in 1936-9.' 67. H. Ismuha, in Sinar Darussalam, 15 (July 1969), p. 34. Hoesain Almujahid was born in Idi in 1915, and studied at the local school and the famous Maslurah Islamic secondary school established by the Sultan of Langkat in Tanjung Pura. He earned his soubriquet in schoolboy fights, being fined once in Idi for punching a Chinese, and once by the kerapatan Langkat for getting into a fight with one of the royal guard. In 1931-3 he studied at the Jamiatul Diniyah school in Blang Pase, and in 1933-5 studied and taught in West Aceh. From 1935 he taught in religious schools in Langsa and Idi. 68. Tiro Tjoet, in Penjoeloeh, 5/6 (March/April 1941), p. 587. 69. Politiek Verslag Atjeh, 1927, p. 2, Mailr. 221 x /28. Nazaruddin Sjamsuddin, 'The Course of the National Revolution in Aceh, 1945-1949' (Un-

. " '/&><<£ '

36

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE published M.A. thesis, Monash University, 1974), pp. 30-1, cites a warning from the Dutch controleur at Bireuen to Ismail Jakoeb that PUSA should exclude Minangkabaus and Mandailings. Similarly the controleur of Idi told Hoesain Almujahid that he privately sympathized with PUSA'S aims, 'so long as it was not manipulated by the communists'—information from Almujahid.

70. Ismail Jakoeb in Pandji Islam, 35 (28 August 1939), p. 7326, refuted this allegation which had appeared in one of the Medan dailies. 71. In the absence of harder data, the Acehnese advertisers in Penjoeloeh provide some indication of the strength of this element. They include 5 small businesses in Sigli (2 in medicines, 2 primarily textiles, and 1 laundry), 2 in Bireuen, and 1 each in Kutaraja and Takengon. A 1924 report noted that Acehnese exporters were concentrated in the Pidie region (31 exporters with an average income of f.770) and in Idi (26 exporters with an average income of f.5,013); Verslag van den Economischen Toestand der Inlandsche Bevolking, 1924 (Batavia, Landsdrukkerij, 1926), II, pp. 232-5. 72. James C. Scott, 'The erosion of patron-client bonds and social change in rural Southeast Asia', J AS, 32, no. 1 (November 1972), especially pp. 16-17. 73. MvO Pidie, Van Suchtefln, 1930, p. 2, Tropen. 74. Atjeher (pseud. H. M . Zainuddin), 'Atjeh problemen', Penjedar, I, 14 (16 November 1938), p. 4. 75. Penjedar was begun by the former P K I leader Xarim M. S., but Medan journalist and PSII leader Mohammad Saidt took over as editor in November 1938, perhaps for tactical reasons. When Saidt left Penjedar during 1939 he received a donation from ' T . Laksamana of Njong' to begin Seruan Kita on a similar basis (Interview). This could only have been T . Laksamana Hoesin, whose strong claim to succeed to the rulership of Njong had been disregarded by the Dutch, and who had been an executive member of Daud Beureu'eh's Jamiatul Diniyah in 1933. 76. Dfjohan] A[hmad], Sigli, in Penjedar, II, 1 (1 January 1939). 77. Djohan Ahmad, 'Pengaroh pers di tanah Rentjong', Seruan Kita, I, 10 (29 September 1939), p. 251; 'Atjeher' [H. M. Zainuddin] in Penjedar, II, 26 (25 June 1939), pp. 556-8. 78. S. M. Amin, Sekitar Peristiwa Berdarah di Atjeh (Jakarta, Soeroengan, 1956), pp. 136-9; Piekaar, p. 84; Interviews. 79. Volksraad, Handelingen 1938-9, pp. 567-8, 585-6, 919, and Bijlagen Ond. 1, Afd. IV, stuk 5, pp. 14-15. 80. MvO Atjeh, Goedhart, 1929, p. 67, Mailr. 287 x /29. Tuanku Mahmud (c. 1895-1954) was a descendant of a side branch of the sultan dynasty, whose members all carried the title Tuanku. He studied at the Batavia MOSVIA school for government officials, and began his government service in Sulawesi before being transferred to the Resident's office in Kutaraja in the mid-1920s. In 1929 he had nine months' study leave in Holland, and in Dutch eyes was exceptionally 'courteous and cultivated' (Piekaar, p. 14). After entering the Volksraad he contracted a very advantageous marriage with the daughter of the Sultan of Serdang, which advanced his stature as a royal pretender. During the revolution he played host to the Sultan of

DUTCH-OCCUPIED ACEH

37

Siak, whose consort he was to take as his second wife in 1952 after a lengthy affair. 81. Politiek Verslag Atjeh, 1st halfjaar 1939, Mailr. 959 x /39. Correspondence regarding restoration of the sultanate in Mailr. 742 x /39. Penjedar, II, 5 (29 January 1939), p . 8 1 ; II, 7 (12 February 1939), pp. 123-4; and II, 16 (16 April 1939), pp. 330-1. IPO, 18 February 1939, pp. 116-21. 82. F. G. Bailey, 'The Peasant view of the bad life', in Peasants and Peasant Societies, ed. Teodor Shanin (Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1971), p. 309. 83. 'Panjot Tjoelet' [pseud. Hasan Aly], 'Peristiwa Atjeh', Seruan Kita, I, 10 (29 September 1939), pp. 232-3. 84. The Perkumpulan Uleebalang2 Groot Atjeh was formed under T . Njak Arif's presidency on 8 October 1939: Politiek Verslag Atjeh, October 1939, pp. 8-9. Because Aceh Besar (Groot Atjeh) was technically directly ruled, the uleebalang there had fewer interests to protect and polarization never became as acute as in Pidie and the North Coast. Nevertheless Njak Arif was already reacting defensively to criticism of the uleebalang in 1937, when he interrupted a Muhammadiah meeting to object to reference to them as 'rajas', since they no longer had real power. He countered ulama criticism: 'We are all guilty in this matter, not only the uleebalang who get the blame, but also the Teungkus [ulama] who . . . do not dare to say or do anything when they see the uleebalang doing bad things such as drinking champagne, dancing, and sending their children to Christian schools'; Pedoman Masjarakat, 10 November 1937, cited IPO, 27 November 1937, p. 787. 85. T . M . Amin in Pandji Islam, 25 September 1939, p. 7396. 86. Politiek Verslag Atjeh, December 1939, pp. 4-5, Mailr. 193 x /40. 87. Dutch historians and novelists had given much attention to T . Umar and his wife, Cut Nyak Dien, with the result that the Indonesian nationalist movement had adopted Umar despite his many changes of sides. A biography of him by Xarim M. S. had appeared in 1939. During 1940 articles by Ismail Jakoeb, Amelz, and 'Poetera Atjeh' in the Medan press advanced the superior claims of Chik di Tiro. See especially Pandji Islam, 1 March 1940, pp. 7873-5, and Penjedar, 9 January 1941, p. 27. Ismail Jakoeb's well-researched biography of Chik di Tiro did not appear until 1943. 88. Daud Beureu'eh emphasized this incident in a 1969 interview. 89. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan pp. 170-2. 90. Ibid., p. 169.

hidup (Kuala Lumpur, Pustaka Antara, 1966)

Ill THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

'Goldland, tanah emas, heaven for the capitalist; but a land to wring the tears of the dead, a hell for the proletarian. . . . There a sharp antithesis obtained between capital and labour, between ruler and ruled.' TAN MALAKA1

EUROPEANS IN the eyes of Western capitalism at the end of the nineteenth century, the scattered Malay and Batak indigenous population of East Sumatra might not have existed.2 The area was adfrontier; whose essential image was a European planter and a team of perspiring Chinese coolies clearing a patch of rich volcanic soil from the endless primeval forest. It was pictured as a bitterly hostile environment, less because of the occasional Batak resistance than because of the tigers and diseases of the forest, and the sullen hatred of the indentured work-force. For the needs of the booming tobacco estates everything was imported. The food, supplies, and men were introduced, morever, not from the established colonial world of Java with its relatively syncretic, hierarchic, Indisch life-style, but from all parts of the world. The managers of the tobacco estates were overwhelmingly Dutch, though the rubber, tea, and oil-palm estates which developed in the twentieth century brought an equal number of British, Americans, French, and Swiss. The assistants on the estates were a very mixed bag, drawn by the high wages and call of adventure directly from Europe. 'Training is not required. One just must be able to shout well at the coolies.'3 Differences of status were vitally important within the planter community of the plantation district. The estate managers had European wives, the assistants took Javanese concubines; the two ranks did not mix socially whatever their respective social origins in Europe. These distinctions, however, paled before the absolute tyranny of race.4 The pioneering planters had felt so few, so isolated, and yet so proud of the fantastic wealth they were wresting from the jungle, that they forged a solidarity of colour among the Asian population which surrounded

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

39

them. Every fortnight this solidarity and mastery was celebrated in drunken, boisterous ritual at the club on the hari besar (holiday). T h e twentieth century rolled the plantation frontier back, and created settled amenities for the European population which were second to none in the Indies. Yet the Deliaan, as planters of the whole plantation district were proud to call themselves, remained a distinct type, stereotyped as coarse, hard-drinking, impatient of 'culture', of civil servants, or whatever else interfered with the efficient accumulation of profits. 'The Chief Administrator of the Deli-Company is for him a more powerful deity than the Governor-General.' 5 The Deliaan took great pride in the modern, international, character of East Sumatra, and the smartness of its capital, Medan. But if he had many contacts with Malaya, Europe, and America, he had few with Indonesians except in the most menial capacity. The 11,000 Europeans of East Sumatra (1930), who included relatively few Eurasians, were separated by a wide gulf from the other peoples of the Residency. Even in the relatively progressive atmosphere of the Senembah-company, Tan Malaka found the gulf impassable: 'The sharp antithesis between a white race stupid, arrogant, cruel, imperialist; and a brown race whose experience is in the sweat of their brows, but who are cheated, exploited, oppressed. . . this was what disturbed the climate of Deli.' 6 T h e harsh pioneering background of Deli, the huge cultural and social gap between its diverse immigrants, and the stubborn pride with which the Deliaan viewed the fruit of 'his' labour, made the region a stereotype of the neuroses which characterized colonial society. This paranoia reached its most hysterical point in 1929, when attacks on Europeans by desperate indentured labourers reached a peak. T h e fact that a woman, the wife of a planter at Parnabolan, in Simalungun, was killed in such an attack became the occasion for a great campaign among the Deliaan. The funeral was widely attended, telegrams of outrage descended on the Governor-General and the Queen, and preparations were made to ensure that planters could defend themselves if they were not protected by a 'weak' government. The movement climaxed with a privately convened meeting on 16 July 1929, attended by 2,300 'Fatherlanders', demanding sterner measures. The Indonesian daily Pewarta Deli, which had the courage to dismiss the murder as a 'small matter' (perkara kecil), earned the bitter hostility of the whole European community. 7 It was in this vengeful mood that the right-wing Vaderlandsche Club was born in Medan, before it had even taken clear form in Java. T h e chairman of the 16 July meeting launched the local branch himself less than a month later. Although the specific policies of the Vaderlandsche Club were unclear, it represented a conviction that Dutchmen injthe Indies had to stand together to defend the imperial bond against

\yC

40

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

nameless threats from all sides, Almost immediately it became the most active European political group in East Sumatra, with 500 members and the beginnings of its own defence corps.8 The Vaderlandsche Club lost its momentum only in the period 1934-8, when the Dutch Nazi party, the N.S.B., provided a more flamboyant outlet for the vigorous minority of the extreme right. The East Sumatran branch of the N.S.B. appears to have provided a substantial proportion of the financial support for Dutch fascism. The branch was rewarded by visits from the Dutch party's leaders, Mussert and Van Geelkerken, who drew crowds of up to 600 Europeans in Medan.9

v_

LABOUR If Europeans were the 'general staff' of the capitalist conquest of East Sumatra,10 contract labourers were its reluctant foot soldiers. From the beginning the planters found the indigenous population unwilling to toil on their terms. They became dependant on a constant flow of indentured labourers, powerless captives, first from China and later from Java. In the violent pioneering 1870s Chinese labour was in effect 'bought' by the payment of large sums to 'coolie-brokers' in Singapore and Penang, to overcome the notoriety of Deli among migrants. From 1888 the Deli tobacco planters began to bring about 7,000 Chinese labourers a year directly from China. About half a million Chinese had entered East Sumatra on contracts by the 1930s, although the peak was passed with the tobacco boom of the late 1880s, when up to 20,000 entered annually.11 The difficulties of recruiting in China and the Straits Settlements drove the tobacco planters reluctantly towards the obvious Netherlands Indian source. Though continuing to insist that only Chinese tobaccogrowers would guarantee the high standards of the famous Deli wrapper leaf, the tobacco estates increasingly used Javanese indentured labour in other tasks. The coffee estates which began in the 1890s, and the rubber, tea, and oil-palm which expanded rapidly after 1900, relied exclusively on Javanese. The composition of the total plantation force changed as follows: H OUOOAJU- J r^^j^^ TABLE 1 CONTRACT LABOUR IN EAST SUMATRA12

1884 Chinese Javanese Indians and Others

1900

1916

1920

1925

1929

21,136 58,516 43,689 23,900 26,800 25,934 1,771 25,224 150,392 212,400 168,400 239,281 1,528

2,460

n.a.

2,000

1,500

1,019

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

41

This shift speeded the transition from turbulent frontier to Netherlands colony, for with the Javanese came a paternalistic involvement of the colonial government, and a less speculative spirit among the powerless contract labourers. Labour conditions were governed by the Coolie Ordinance of 1880, which provided a maximum of three years' contract, after which the labourer had to be returned to his place of recruitment. The inadequate protection this provided in practice was dramatically shown in the pamphlet De millioenen uit Deli (1902), and the ensuing inquiry. More elaborate standards and safeguards were then devised, and by the 1920s it could generally be said that the health, education, and social amenities for workers in East Sumatra were relatively good. They remained, however, neither free nor well remunerated. The minimum daily wage for male labour on initial contracts in East Sumatra fluctuated between 30 cents per day (1935-7) and 55 cents (1920-1). In 1924, when a government survey was made, the minimum contract labourers' wage was 42 cents, while the figure for factory labour was 5 3 | cents, and unskilled urban workers were receiving 80 cents.13 It is difficult to find figures which are exactly comparable, but the bitter opposition of planters to reliance on market forces for their labour supply was itself an eloquent testimony. What kept the indentured labourers at their task was the 'penal sanction' which the 1880 Coolie Ordinance attached to their contracts. Workers who left their job or neglected their duties were subject to fines or imprisonment. Elaborate fingerprint records were maintained to trace the workers who ran away. From the beginning of the century Dutch 'ethici' fought against this penal sanction, and from 1918 the government was theoretically committed to its gradual abolition. The TABLE 2 ESTATE LABOUR FORCE IN EAST SUMATRA15

At end of year 1928 1929 1930 1931 1932 1933 1934 1936 1938

Contract labour 'Free' labour with penal under 1911 Labourers without sanction contracts any advance 247,769 266,234 236,747 137,083 27,338 11,699 6,029 6,396 4,670

30,909 35,478 40,304 84,386 140,259 152,774 152,080 159,949 185,360

17,781 18,790 13,959 17,005 8,546 6,125 8,677 15,136 18,376

Total 296,459 320,502 294,010 238,474 176,143 170,598 166,766 181,479 208,406

42

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

vested planter interest was too strong, however. Almost nothing was achieved until 1929, when the Blaine amendment to the U.S. Tariff Act barred with the effect from 1932 imports of tobacco produced under the penal sanction. The world depression spoke even more strongly to the tobacco companies, making it more of a problem to dispense with contract labourers than to hire free ones. 14 The recruitment of Chinese indentured labour ceased in 1930, and for Javanese labour use was suddenly made of the so-called 'free' labour contract of 1911, permitting the worker to leave after giving notice. Belatedly, therefore, a healthier labour pattern was forced upon the estates of East Sumatra. One symptom of the unhealthiness of the earlier relationship based on force was the frequency of attacks on European and Javanese labour bosses by indentured labourers who could stand it no longer. In the rough pioneering days violence on both sides of the labour relation was to be expected. Yet even in the 1920s, when labour conditions were carefully regulated, such attacks were commonplace. Although planters denied that the penal sanction had any connexion with the attacks, experience proved them wrong. The attacks almost ceased with the decline of the penal sanction. TABLE 3 ATTACKS ON OVERSEERS BY EAST SUMATRAN ESTATE LABOUR 16

1924 '25 '26 '2j Attacks on Europane 'assistants' (labour overseers) Fatalities resulting from all attacks

19

28

1 3

27 —

'28 '29 '30 '31 '32 1933

17 43 1

2

68 5

2

61 17

16

8

—

—

—

After 1932 attacks on Europeans were insignificant, none at all being recorded in 1940, although incidents continued with the immediate bosses, Javanese mandur and Chinese tandil. In the 1930s, therefore, the estates were losing their earlier aspect of an 'outdoor prison'. T h e Chinese contract labour force had virtually disappeared, and those members of it who were not repatriated were in the course of being absorbed into the flourishing Chinese merchant community of East Sumatra. T h e Javanese estate labourers, about one-quarter of whom were by now women, were also taking on a more settled character. Overpopulation steadily increased the number of landless in Java, and many Javanese labourers therefore welcomed the opportunity to remain after their contracts in Deli. Some were given

43

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

estate land for cultivation in the hope they would form the beginnings of a permanent labour force. Many more became subsistence farmers in land around the fringes of the estates, where they frequently obtained titles from the kerajaan. Already in the 1930 census Javanese formed the largest single ethnic group in East Sumatra. Like the Chinese, however, if for different reasons, they played a minimal part in the political and social life of the residency. Those on the estates were tightly controlled and effectively sealed off from any outside political activity. Those who had left were still tainted by association with the semi-captive 'coolie'. TABLE 4 ETHNIC CATEGORIES IN EAST SUMATRA,

Number

%

Europeans Chinese Other (primarily Indian) Sub-total non-Indonesian

11,079 192,822 18,904

0.7 11.4 1.1

Javanese Toba Batak Mandailing and Angkola Batak Minangkabau Sundanese Banjar Acehnese Other Sub-total 'immigrant' Indonesians

589,836 74,224 59,638 50,677 44,107 31,266 7,795 24,646

Malay Karo Batak Simalungun Batak Other Sub-total 'indigenous' Indonesians

334,870 145,429 95,144 5,436

Sub-Total

%

222,805

13.2

882,189

52.3

580,879

34.5

1,685,873

100.0

35.0 4.4 3.5 3.0 2.6 1.9 0.5 1.5

19.9 8.6 5.6 0.3

Total

DELI-LANGKAT-SERDANG:

1930

THE OPULENT

SULTANATES

Prior to the devastating invasion of the foreign plantations East Sumatra had been the home of a primarily agricultural population of coastal Malays, and Karo and Simalungun Bataks. It was the three Malay statelets of Deli, Langkat, and Serdang, in the tobacco-growing area, which

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THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

45

experienced first and most intensively the impact of this alien economic monster. T h e contradictions inherent in Dutch indirect rule were nowhere more acute than in these three wealthy sultanates. As the twentieth century progressed, bringing ever greater government centralization on the one hand and an increased theoretical emphasis on localized 'self-rule' on the other, these contradictions became ever more pressing. Both planters and government officials had found the Malay sultanates extremely convenient in the first half-century of western development. The planters obtained very advantageous terms for their concessions, and found the system of bribes and perquisites with which they kept the goodwill of the Malay elite much cheaper than the taxation of a modern government structure. For government, the rajas provided not only the basic pretext for a Dutch presence, but an inexpensive intermediary to the baffling complexity and autonomy of Batak social structure, and an invaluable shield with which to cloak the more unpopular government measures—in particular those directed against the demands of the national movement. Yet the Dutch B.B. (Binnenlandse Bestuur—the European administrative service) constantly judged the 'loyalty' of the sultans in terms of their immediate implementation of Dutch suggestions in all matters of importance to the central government—a category which expanded steadily. In a bureaucracy as extensive as the B.B. there was no place for the degree of symbolic deference British Residents paid to the sovereignty of their sultans in Malaya. The big three East Sumatra rulers had a number of advantages, however, over most of their colleagues in either Netherlands India or Malaya. Their Political Contracts allowed them autonomous administrative and juridical structures of completely aristocratic-Malay composition, with full nominal responsibility in a number of areas. One of these areas was land, which of course explained the special concern of the estates for the welfare of the rulers. By paying large sums to the rulers personally as persen tanah when each land concession was made, the estates ensured that the annual rental was fixed very low. A good example of the advantage the estates drew from the sultanates was the debate of the 1930s over the terms on which the plantations would have their land under the new erfpacht (long lease) regulations. Although the estates had been accustomed to paying a minimal rent of f. 1.42 per hectare, the Agricultural Affairs Department estimated at the beginning of the debate that f.25 per hectare per year would be fair return for such productive land. By 1937, the planters' organizations had succeeded in persuading the pliable Sultans of Deli and Langkat to accept a figure of f.3.50. Although the then Resident found this rather low, he was not prepared to support the higher demand of the 'troublesome' Sultan

46

\ )

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

of Serdang, the sultans having so little sense of the value of money.17 Soon after, the Resident discovered to his indignation that the tobacco companies had undertaken to show their appreciation of the attitude of the Sultans of Deli and Langkat by financing their visits to Europe to the extent of f.85,000 each. As a planters' representative said in defence, this was simply 'the policy followed by the tobacco enterprises towards the sultans for years'.18 The enormous wealth which flowed from this symbiotic relationship with the estates was another guarantee that the rulers would remain too visible to be pushed aside lightly. Even after the distinction was established between the landschapskas (treasury) of each statelet and the personal income of its rulers, a large percentage of the royalties from estates and (in Langkat) from oil continued to flow to the sultans and their datuks. In 1915 39.2 per cent of the revenue of Deli, 37.9 per cent that of Langkat, and 51.9 per cent that of Serdang went personally to the sultans and their chiefs, in the form of official allowance plus their large share of the royalties. This compared with 16.1 per cent and 10.9 per cent respectively for Simalungun and the Karoland, whose rajas were under the Korte Verklaring (Short Declaration). Even in 1928 Dutch efforts had brought the proportions down only to a little less than a third of the revenues in each case.19 The wealthiest of the sultans, Tuanku Machmoed of Langkat,20 with the advantage of the oil royalties from Pengkalan Brandan, had a personal income of f.472,094 in 1931, while Sultan Amaloedin of Deli received f. 184,568 and Sultan Soeleiman of Serdang f.103,346.21 Such wealth enabled the rulers to maintain the lavish palaces, the fleet of limousines (Sultan Machmoed had thirteen in 1933, and an unused launch), the racehorses, the receptions for influential Europeans, the tours to Europe, and the army of dependent aristocratic relatives, which kept them before the public eye as true monarchs, making up in kemuliaan (majesty) what they lacked in power. The dissatisfaction of Indonesian 'intellectuals' from other regions over the conservatism and extravagance of the rulers could be dismissed as the grumblings of foreigners. For the immediate Malay and Karo subjects of the sultans there was little cause for complaint. The Malays in particular, numbering only 40,451 (18.57 per cent of the population) in Langkat and 61,953 (14.35 per cent) in Deli-Serdang in 1930, had a close and comfortable dependence on their rulers and on the tobacco estates. They had not disputed the right of their rajas and datuks to alienate land to the estates in the early days, nor had they been disappointed in the share of the proceeds they received. All the contracts had clauses providing that each family living within the area of the concession should be allocated 4 hectares, or in later concessions 4 bahu

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

47

(2.8 hectares), on a shifting basis for their own crops. In practice the tobacco estates tended to ignore this clause, preferring to plant where it suited them throughout the concession. So precious was the unique Deli wrapper leaf that the planters were prodigal with the land, convinced that any one plot should be planted in tobacco no more than once every eight or nine years. This rotation system allowed the estates to turn over the fields from which tobacco had been harvested for one year's cultivation of food crops, before they reverted to fallow for the intervening six or seven years. Each family was allotted each year a jaluran of 0.6 hectare of this 'heavily fertilized, beautifully prepared, and generally superior land'. 22 Such a plot could provide a generous harvest of 600 gantangs (1920 kg) of rice for a minimal amount of labour. 23 The opportunity to receive jaluran in this way reduced interest among Malay farmers in the 4-hectare (or 4-bahu) lots, on which much more preparation and attention would have been required for a usually smaller crop. Those Malay farmers who continued to enjoy these lots as well either used them as orchards or leased them to Chinese or Javanese. 24 In the early freewheeling days of the estates prior to 1920 it was only the jaluran which were in demand, and any objections could be met by a more generous allocation of the prepared plots especially to influential chiefs or ulama. Later acts of concession wrote the provision of jaluran into the obligations of the estates. The tax burden on subjects of the major sultanates was also relatively light. Most aristocrats were exempt from herendienst, and the rulers did not usually press it on subjects for whom it was a burden. For Malays content with their traditional lot, the estates had made life both secure and comfortable. But dependence had sapped many of the habits and talents required in the new commercial economy of the region. By the late 1920s, when virtually all the land in the Malay areas of the three sultanates was occupied by estates, jaluran were almost the only form of Malay agriculture. There was scarcely any planting of cash crops or intensive rice cultivation in irrigated fields. Few parts of Indonesia showed such a complete dearth of Indonesian buyers, middlemen and exporters. Small trade was overwhelmingly in Chinese hands. 25 As the population of the tobacco area grew by natural increase and immigration from less favoured parts of the residency, it became harder for the estates to meet all the demands for jaluran. The reduction of planting during the depression years, and consequent reduction of jaluran, threw the whole system in the balance. T h e estates now made clear that they wished to withdraw from the increasingly troublesome jaluran distribution altogether, even though there was scarcely enough land available to provide the alternative of 4 hectares to which they were

48

[/

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

bound. Having long seen themselves as the most privileged community of the region by reason of their close and comfortable clientship to the rulers, the Malays discovered they were also the most vulnerable, facing an uncertain future without the land, the talents, or the power the situation demanded. The Karo Batak subjects of the three big sultanates (28,079 in Langkat and 37,341 in Deli-Serdang in 1930) were in a less dependent position, even though they showed an equal enthusiasm for tobacco jaluran where they could obtain them. The Karos were overwhelmingly concentrated in the so-called dusun (literally: garden) or upland section of the three sultanates, bordering on Karoland proper. Until the coming of Dutch administration and the estates their basic socio-political unit had been the village (kuta), governed, as in other Batak areas, by members of the founding marga. A kinship link was acknowledged to the parent village (perbapaan) of a group of villages, but it was at the level of the kuta that land was controlled. The conflict between this Karo custom and the claim of the Malay sultans to a right to alienate land anywhere in their theoretical dominions has already been discussed as the origin of the 'Batak war' in Sunggal in 1872. As a consequence of continuing Karo resistance to estates in the dusun the Dutch established direct contacts with them in 1888 and channelled one-sixth of estate royalties to the Karo village headmen. Some Karo villages in tobacco areas established the same dependence on jaluran as the Malays. In the higher land of the dusun perennial crops (particularly rubber) were more typical, and most Karos oscillated between casual work on the estates and shifting cultivation on their 4-hectare plots. The sultans had traditionally dealt with the Karos through datuks, who though of Karo descent had long identified themselves as Malay and Muslim. These datuks had built the rudiments of Malay-style courts near the frontier between Karo and Malay settlements, and operated independently for most purposes. The Karos of the dusun had traded with the datuks lower down their respective rivers, and sometimes supported them in wars, without ever being directly administered by them. Dutch rule, however, having made the initial decision to include the Karo dusun within the Malay kerajaan, steadily extended the sultans' bureaucratic and judicial sway over them. A hierarchy of Karo officials was established beneath each datuk, who in turn was subordinated to the bureaucracy of the sultanate.26 At the other end of the scale the village bond was gradually eroded, and a tendency was observed towards individual land tenure.27 One Dutch official argued that this process had gone so far that 'the village community no longer offers a viable basis from which successfully to operate [decentralization reforms]'.28 More obviously than most inhabitants of East Sumatra, the Karos of

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

49

the dusun were in a volatile state of transition between traditional village loyalties and new bureaucratic or organizational ones.

THE SOUTHERN

MALAY

STATES

The vast swampy plains in the south of the East Sumatran residency were slow to feel the impact of the foreign estates which clustered on the volcanic alluvium around Medan. There were nine Malay statelets in the three great basins of the Rokan, Siak, and Kampar rivers, but eight of them were underpopulated and poor, and their rajas under the terms of the Korte Verklaring had virtually no bargaining power with the Dutch. The ninth, Siak Sri Indrapura, had once dominated the whole East Coast. Even after these claims were bought out by the Dutch in 1888, Siak had difficulty accepting the formal equality of the upstart Sultans of Deli and Langkat, despite the opulence which had flowed to the latter from Dutch enterprises. 29 Relatively little penetrated by foreign estates, and those mostly Japanese, Siak had retained more of its traditional character and vigour than the other Malay states. Ethnically its 117,000 people were relatively homogeneous, with some 30,000 Minangkabaus the only complication. Only here was there a class of substantial Indonesian merchants, trading in the smallholder rubber and copra which were grown within the sultanate. In 1924 there were 109 indigenous traders in Siak with incomes in excess of f.760 p.a., more than twice the number in the whole remainder of the residency. 30 The regime of Sultan Sjarif Kasim (1915-46) appears to be remembered kindly by his people for reforms in education and administration. T o the Dutch, however, it appeared maddeningly independent, backward, and corrupt. 31 Further north, the afdeling (district) of Asahan formed the southern frontier of the estate region, still growing rapidly in the 1930s. Here however the estates grew rubber or oil palm rather than tobacco, and there were no jaluran to distort the traditional pattern of agriculture. Although little waste land remained by 1940, enough was in Indonesian hands for a healthy smallholder production of export crops. 32 Ethnic and historical factors had given the rajas of Asahan a more modest, consensual role than in the other Malay states. The five small statelets of the Batubara confederation derived from eighteenth century Minangkabau immigration, and were held together by kinship rather than monarchy. In the sultanate of Asahan, much the largest statelet in the district, the orang Asahan were predominately of Toba Batak descent. The process of Islamization was relatively swift and unimpeded until about 1920, when there were estimated to be only four or five

50

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

thousand remaining animist Bataks among the 106,000 subjects of the sultanate. The Islamic majority considered itself Malay rather than Batak, but a form of Toba Batak was still the mother tongue of most of them. 3 3 The long minority of Sultan Saiboen 34 after inheriting the throne at the age of six allowed the Dutch to intervene freely in Asahan affairs. The aristocracy of Asahan by the 1930s appeared more businesslike, more co-operative with the Dutch bureaucracy, and less given to pomp and extravagance, than their colleagues in the other Malay sultanates. Immediately to the south of the Asahan sultanate were four more small Malay statelets of the Labuhan Batu sub-district. Three of these shared with the Batubara statelets the stern terms of the Korte Verklaring, their treasuries pooled and under complete Dutch control. Only one, Kualuh, enjoyed the privileged status of a 'Political Contract' along with Langkat, Deli, Serdang, Asahan, and Siak. The reasons for the anomalous status of this statelet of only 36,000 people were partly historical, and partly the longevity of its stubborn ruler, father-in-law to the Sultan of Langkat. As the modern economy penetrated Kualuh in the 1930s, however, the extravagant pretensions of this old man became a source of additional tension. The easy relations between Toba Batak and Malay in the Asahan district were altered somewhat with the Christianization of the Toba homelands, widespread by 1920. The Toba emigrants from Tapanuli to Asahan in the 1920s were typically Christian, and did not melt like their predecessors into the 'Malay' coastal community through rapid Islamization. In the 1930 census there were already 27,000 who declared themselves Batak or Toba Batak in the Asahan district. After the depression of the 1930s the migration became a flood as western plantations developed rapidly in the district, pressure on land in Tapanuli intensified, and the 'Toba-Asahan' road provided easy access. Most migrants went to work on the new estates, though in the Labuhan Batu subdistricts in particular there was still land available for them to open farms of their own. A 1937 report noted that the Bataks had penetrated almost to the coast in Kualuh, while the Indrapuri statelet in Batubara had become almost wholly Batak and its neighbours heavily so. 35 Here too was a potential source of conflict.

THE SULTANS

AND

THE DUTCH

IN

THE

1930s

Since the beginning of the century the Dutch bureaucracy had sought gradually to move the»sbf sultansAinder political contracts towards a more 'normal' situation, with their incomes and autonomy reduced nearer to the level of Korte Verklaring rajas. T h e skill of the sultans at

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

51

using their powerful contacts where possible, and bending before pressure when necessary, provided few opportunities for direct government intervention. At the death of each ruler, however, the bonds were tightened and the incomes reduced for his younger successor. The thrust of Dutch policy was consistently towards eenhoofdig (unitary) rule whereby tributary rajas, in name or in fact, were gradually reduced to functionaries of one of the more successful sultanates.36 The ideal was considered to be Asahan, where since 1918 all subordinate chiefs had been abolished, so that the colonial government had only to control one man, and through him a bureaucracy of aristocratic Malay district officials. This emphasis in the long run only further accentuated the 'problem' of the major sultans. The 'problem' came to a head in the depression years, when both the estates and the kerajaan treasuries experienced unprecedented difficulties. The depression brought no change to the official incomes of the sultans and chiefs, unlike the powerless Korte Verklaringr_rnlers whose stipends were reduced by 10 per cent in 1932. It drastically reduced Dutch tolerance, however, for their extravagance and selfindulgence. The earlier estate practice of overcoming or precluding resistance on land questions by lavish gifts to the influential Malay elite began to seem a luxury. The estates increasingly resorted to the courts when they did not get what they wanted, and sought to collect debts from the Malay tengkus instead of writing them off for political reasons.37 Relations between the estates and the kerajaan began to deteriorate, and the financial problems of the latter became disastrous. If anything the extravagance of the sultans and their circle seemed to increase in the depression years as appeals to royal patronage became more frequent. The competition among the Malay aristocracy for the lavishness of their entertainment and the luxuriousness of their limousines had reached a level that had little relation to earning power. By 1931 the bad debts of the Serdang court had become so notorious that European financiers refused any further loans, driving the sultan increasingly into the hands of Indian moneylenders. The sultan's debts were thought to have reached about 300,000 guilders in 1933, but by 1935 they were revealed as just over a million. Sultan Machmoed of Langkat, with a much larger income, had built a spectacular debt of f.l,318,000 by the end of 1934. For Machmoed, always suspicious and unsure of himself, this became a further source of acute anxiety.38 The apparent unwillingness of these rulers to reduce their expenditure or put their affairs in order at a time of general belt-tightening drove local Dutch officials into a rage of frustration. Far from accepting Dutch pressure for sacrifices, the sultans showed exceptional energy and coordination in a campaign during the height of the depression to extend

52

VoOrU-1

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

exemption from automobile tax to even their most distant relations. 39 In 1934-5 the Dutch felt obliged to take over the personal finances of the Sultans of Langkat and Serdang, to avoid further erosion of the rulers' public image. The creditors were paid off with massive loans from the landschapskas of oil-rich Kutei (East Kalimantan), while all the Sultans' incomes except a fixed monthly allowance were devoted to repayment of these loans. Ezerman, the Governor who grappled with these problems at their worst, laid all the blame at the feet of the sultans and their bevy of dependent tengkus, ignoring the Dutch role in bringing the situation about. In the Malay states here there stands . . . a mountain of egoism and greed and of sacrifice of group interest for self interest. . . . In all attempts . . . to bring the rulers round to other views, and to replace the egocentric, despotic notion of sovereignty with fellow-feeling for society and its needs, one is confronted with the 'dignity' of thefkerajaan,and they insist on kemuliaan and similar concepts, which are in reality irrelevant but which serve to provide a solid armour for the old standpoint. . . . 4 0 The tengkus and nobles always reply to the European B.B. in words which amount to: 'The good that you desire, I will not do. I cannot do it because for us only the ego exists and we have no feeling for your societal principle.' That symbolizes the whole relationship. It is not hostile, simply fruitless.41 Ezerman became so exasperated with the way the Sultan of Siak indulged the corruption of his relatives that he sent four army brigades from Aceh to camp opposite his palace and bring him to heel. The only remedy he could see for the situation was a drastic reduction in the autonomy of the sultans, and he was frustrated to find this ran counter to all the favourite schemes for decentralization in Batavia. His governorship dramatically accented at an even earlier period the trend we have noticed in Aceh, of a decline in the return Dutch officials thought they were getting from the rajas. Ezerman's successors were more tactful in handling the Malay rulers, but they did not differ in their basic assessment. 42 This loss of credibility in relation to the central bureaucracy was not lost even on some of the Malay elite in the larger towns. The respect and consideration which the Malay rulers formerly enjoyed has gradually declined, and people have come to regard most rulers here as having power in consequence of the political contracts (indeed it is these that give authority, not the love and affection of their people), and as nouveauxriches, but not as good leaders. . . . There is criticism now and it is malicious. It is directed not only at the behaviour and values of the kerajaan, but it goes further and dwells upon history, making comparisons with rajas under the Korte Verklaring and with

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

53

the rulers in Java. Formerly this criticism did not exist, people were satisfied with the aura which used to hang around the sultans.43 While this criticism was articulated especially by the non-Malay pergerakan, it was increasingly being felt in aristocratic Malay circles. It moved a later governor to the optimistic view that internal pressures would eventually be sufficient to democratize the kerajaan.u The increased conflict between government and rulers in the 1930s provided an opportunity for the sultans to draw closer to the national movement for support. Only the oldest and most forceful of the rulers, X Sultan Soeleiman of Serdang, took an interest in the option. He infuriated the government not only by the extravagance he shared with his colleagues, but also by a stubborn distrust of Dutch intentions which sometimes operated in his subjects' interests. While the other sultans tended to surround themselves with Europeans, he employed two Japanese in his palace and patronized a number of nationalists. He fought hard for a better deal from the estates in the 1938-9 negotiations, and checked the desire of some Dutch officials to levy heavy corvee in the building of roads. 45 For the other rulers, however, the younger they were the more dependent they appeared to be on the government. Their only strength was in their weakness, offering a more malleable front to both the estates and the government than either could expect from a more democratic alternative. SIMALUNGUN The higher land of the East Coast residency, still exclusively Batak country at the time of the Dutch advent, formed one afdeling (district) of Simalungun and Karoland. The differences between these two distinct Batak sub-groups, however, were as wide as they were instructive. Alone of the Bataks, the Simalungun (sometimes also called Timur Bataks) had developed an institution which the Dutch and Malays could recognize as kingship. T h e system of exogomous marga or clans existed among them as among other Bataks, but it occupied a less central role in land-holding and village government. Land was held not only by the dominant marga of a particular village, but by the larger village community itself, through its hereditary ruler. Perhaps in imitation of the neighbouring Malay states, the Simalungun village clusters were therefore able to develop towards petty monarchies by absorbing neighbours or accepting tribute from them. Dutch rule battened gratefully upon this appearance of monarchy. In 1907 seven distinct urung (statelets) were recognized and their rajas signed the Korte Verklaring of submission to the Dutch. The high degree of autonomy which subordinate chiefs had held was eroded to give

2

54

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

more power in theory to the seven rajas, in reality to the Dutch. The budgets of the seven statelets were tightly controlled by the B.B.—'in practice not a single thing can now be left to them'. 46 Because the rajas appeared to control the disposal of uncultivated land, Simalungun was the only Batak area congenial to western plantations. The three statelets of Pane, Siantar, and Tanah Jawa became an integral part of the East Sumatran plantation district, with rubber and tea the principal crops. Almost a third of the total area of Simalungun was alienated to estates by 1938, and the Javanese who came with the estates outnumbered the Simalunguns.47 y The Simalungun rajas enjoyed considerable benefits from the estates, even if not on the scale of the Malay sultans. Besides their salaries of f.6,720 per year the two wealthiest rajas enjoyed a travelling allowance of f. 1,800 and extensive traditional forms of tribute from their people.48 For the ordinary Simalungun farmer, on the other hand, there were none of the advantages enjoyed by the subjects of the Malay sultans. Simalungun farmers were heavily taxed when compared either to farmers elsewhere in the residency or to non-farmers in Simalungun.49 Among the burdens of the Simalungun peasantry was saro, a traditional corvee which involved working the raja's fields or doing his bidding for about ten days a year, in addition to the usual herendienst on government roads. If the Simalungun were discontented with this situation, however, they were too traditional and rural a community to make it known. Simalunguns were scarcely represented in the secular political movement, and Islamic movements could involve only the small Muslim minority. A (non-Simalungun) GERINDO leader in Siantar complained that 'it was quite difficult to get the uneducated followers to understand that the rajas were the agents (kakitangan) of colonialism'.50 It was the influx of Christian Toba Bataks to Simalungun after 1910, much more than the insulated Javanese and Europeans of the estates, which gave a political tinge to Simalungun self-awareness. The Rhenische Mission attempted to extend its success among the Toba Batak by establishing a mission in the Simalungun statelet of Raya in 1903. Christian Tobas were encouraged to migrate to agriculturally undeveloped Simalungun, to give an example not only of Christian living but of wet-rice agriculture in permanent, bunded fields. The government also encouraged this migration and provided irrigation channels, as a means of easing the gross food deficit in the East Sumatra residency. By 1920 there were 26,000 Tobas in Simalungun, by 1935, 42,000, and by 1943, 50,000. The rice terraces they built around Pematang Siantar and in Tanah Jawa were a model for the slash-and-burn farmers of the rest of the residency. Christianity was much less successful, partly because it was presented in Toba Batak dress, by Tobas who looked down

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

55

51

on the 'primitiveness' of the Simalungun. It was nevertheless the few hundred Simalungun Christians who led the movement to assert a separate cultural identity, at a gathering in Raya in 1928 to celebrate a lean quarter century of evangelization. A committee Na Ra Marpodah was formed to promote purity of Simalungun language and custom, and produced a stream of translations and tracts. One consequence was a marked increase in the rate of Christianization. Another was a greater self-awareness of Simalunguns in general, which ultimately ensured that they would reject the path of identification with either the Christian Tobas or the coastal MalayoMuslims. Although the government had initially given the Tobas a favoured and autonomous position, by the 1930s it was showing both impatience with their unruliness and anxiety at their growing numbers. Greater stress was placed on their obligations to the Simalungun rajas, to whom the migrants had been theoretically subject since 1918. The natural reluctance of the Toba farmers to accept 'feudal' obligations to which they were not accustomed reached a breaking point in 1933. Four hundred Toba farmers emigrated from Simalungun in protest against the high irrigation fees charged by the statelets, and protest meetings were held in Tapanuli when the government imprisoned the leaders of the movement. Three years later a committee was formed among Tobas in Simalungun to fight the saro system.52 The pergerakan in the city of Pematang Siantar, as in Medan itself, was still dominated by Muslim Sumatrans (mainly Mandailing and Minangkabau), but the growing number of Christian Toba Bataks was a surer long-term source of opposition to the Simalungun establishment. KAROLAND So satisfactory had Malay and Simalungun monarchy been for colonial and plantation interests that Dutch officials in East Sumatra sought to create the institution where it did not exist. The 77,000 Karos (in 1930) who lived on the plateau beyond coastal Malay influence were traditionally as free of notions of statehood as their Toba cousins. The basic social unit was the kesain (hamlet), of which there were about 500 in Karoland, many of them grouped together into villages governed jointly by the penghulu of their kesain. In Toba areas the influence of the missions had helped the colonial regime to understand and partly come to terms with this statelessness. However Dutch rule entered Karoland from the east coast, and Tapanuli (the Toba and Mandailing area) from the west.53 Quite different principles were applied. There was no disguising official impatience with 'the aversion to authority

1^0'

56

v

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

which the Karo has in such high measure. . . . Ever since our establishment [in Karoland] we have striven to make an end to this multiplicity of rulers, which was in fact no democracy, but anarchy.'54 Dutch rule came suddenly to Karoland in 1904, when in accordance with the classic formula troops were sent to avenge hostility to the pioneering Christian missionary. The administration immediately battened upon the wrung, a grouping of villages ruled by the same marga and acknowledging the primacy of a common parent village. Fifteen wrung were acknowledged, and the Dutch attempted to rule through the penghulu of the parent village as if he were a hereditary raja. As this number was still unwieldy, five prominent chiefs were designated as sibayak55 governing two or more wrung, and these signed the Korte Verklaring in 1907. The realities of power obliged the Dutch to acknowledge two or more joint claimants to these novel offices in the early years, but by supporting the one who lived longest they had by the 1930s established what looked like hereditary ruling dynasties of sibayak and raja urung. In reality, 'if one sees how a sibayak or a raja urung is even now received in a kesain one realizes his authority must be very slight, and previously must have been still less'.56 This artificial nobility received its authority not from below but from the colonial regime. Sibayak were paid a salary averaging f.2,400 p.a.— less than the other East Sumatran rajas but still enormous in traditional terms.57 They sat in the highest courts; they were held responsible for order; and their sons received the best Dutch education available. The Dutch did not, however, transfer control of land from the kesain to the new aristocracy. This fact, together with the antipathy to the tobacco estates which the Karos had absorbed from the experience of their brethren in the dusun, ensured that no land was alienated to foreign plantations in Karoland. By the 1930s there were officials ready to support Karo resistance to the estates, and to compare their lot favourably with that of the Simalunguns beginning to suffer from land shortage.58 In other respects too Karoland was unique in East Sumatra. With the opening of the first road between Kabanjahe and Medan, in 1909, the Karo economy began to 'take off'. The Karos responded enthusiastically to the opportunities demonstrated to them of growing vegetables for markets in Medan and even Malaya. Within eight years the Karos were sending 340 tonnes of potatoes to Medan each year, and a thousand new Karo ox-carts were plying the road. The money economy was accepted with vigour. At the same time there was a great demand for education which taxed all the resources of the Nederlands Zendingsgenootschap (NZG), the missionary organization entrusted with educating the Karo. While the Karo economic drive continued, making them perhaps the most commercially successful farmers in Indonesia,59 within

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

57

a few years the Karos began to turn their backs on the cultural element of westernization—Christianity and modern education. A missionary historian writes that 'during the 1920s interest among the Karo in education was dwindling rapidly with a reported truancy rate of 80 per cent or more in most areas'. 60 There was no university-trained Karo in 1942. How do we explain this uneven response to the western impact, so much at variance with the Toba experience? The crucial years when the Karo turned away from Dutch-style education appear to have coincided with the First World War. Some of the reasons may be summarized as follows: 1. A persistent distrust of Dutch motives having its origins in the 'Batak-war' of 1874 and the Dutch conquest of 1904. 2. The steep rise in taxation which followed Dutch control, particularly in 1914 when there was a threefold increase. In the 1920s and 1930s Karos paid more tax per capita than other Indonesians of East Sumatra, though they were also better able to afford it than most. 61 3. Until the 1920s the government subsidized the mission schools of the N Z G among the Karos of the plateau and the dusun, rather than provide the secular syllabus offered in Muslim areas. A 1919 report commented, In general, despite the desire for knowledge of the Karo-Batak in particular, the mission education cannot be called popular, so that on the plateau one often finds children who do not go to school but try to learn the essentials from some krani or clerk. . . . Too much compulsion too quickly introduced also had a bad influence; parents of school-going children were fined io cents for each day's truancy, which often mounted up to considerable sums . . . in 1913 about 1300 children went to school in the highlands, and this had fallen to 600 two years later.62 4. The millenarian Parhudamdam movement swept through the whole Batak area in the period 1915-18, inducing Karos to refuse taxes and join the new sect in expectation of a great upheaval which would inaugurate a holy Batak kingdom under the priest-king, Si Singamangaraja.63 Although there was little violent resistance in Karoland after 1904, and the government 'neutral' schools introduced in the 1920s proved less unpopular, Karo suspicion of Dutch intentions remained strong. Not until independence would the Karos add education to their agenda for modernization. In the turbulent 1940s they would become the most wholehearted supporters of revolution against the Dutch. Internally, although social distinctions were less marked than with Malays or Simalunguns, tensions accompanied the introduction of irrigation to some areas. Most of the Karo plateau was very difficult

58

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

to irrigate because of the depth of the ravines. Beginning about 1920, however, an irrigated area was gradually developed through elaborate irrigation channels in that part of Lingga statelet which embraced the large villages of Batu Karang, Tiga Nderket, and Payung—already centres of economic enterprise and, in the case of Batu Karang, of resistance to the Dutch in 1904. Traditional collective ownership of land broke down before the greatly increased value of this sawah (permanent wet-rice land), even though it had been irrigated by the joint efforts of the village. In general each family was allocated one bidang (plot), while three bidang in each village project were given to the penghulu and raja urung respectively, and two to the sibayak. This enabled some aristocrats to accumulate unprecedented landed wealth. The raja urung of Batu Karang was said to have amassed forty hectares of sawah. The concept of individually-owned, permanently cultivated land was a novelty which gave rise to constant disputes even in the 1930s. In the 1940s more violent protests were possible and the aristocrats lost all their sawah.6i THE URBAN

SUPERCULTURE

In their impact on political and social life, the spontaneous Indonesian migrants to the 'dollar land' of East Sumatra were much more important than the larger number of contract labourers. The majority of these migrants came to the booming cities and towns of the residency. Although they could not break into the Chinese domination of urban commerce, they came as clerks, as teachers in both Islamic and secular schools, as craftsmen, peddlers, small shopkeepers, and throughout the service sector. In the period under study Medan and Pematang Siantar were probably the fastest growing cities in Indonesia. Medan's population rose between censuses from 45.2 (1920) to 76.6 (1930) to 479.1 (1961) thousand. In 1930 the autonomous municipalities of East Sumatra were the following: TABLE 5 CITY POPULATION OF EAST SUMATRA,

Medan Pematang Siantar Tebing Tinggi Binjai Tanjung Balai

1930

Indonesian

Chinese

Total

41,270 9,711 8,377 4,740 3,299

27,287 4,964 4,844 3,860 3,162

• 76,584 15,328 14,026 9,176 6,823

67,397

44,117

121,937

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

^

59

Freed from both the adat (customary) restrictions of the societies from />uW<*-" which they came and from the authority of the Malay kerajaan, the Indonesian inhabitants of these cities developed a vigorous new culture. Here, a Dutch journalist noted, 'the native life vibrates and speeds at a form and tempo like nowhere else in the archipelago'. 65 The Malayo-Muslim culture of the coast had for centuries shown its ability to assimilate newcomers into a commercially-oriented amalgam. The predominance of Sumatran Muslims—Mandailings and Minangkabaus in particular 66 —among the urban Indonesian migrants tfkj. * facilitated the smooth development of this traditional culture into a ' modern Indonesian one. Indeed the fact that Malay, acclaimed the national language, Bahasa Indonesia, by the 1930s, was native to East Sumatra gave Medan a quite disproportionate role in the development of the urban national superculture. As Hamka put it: . . . there eventually developed a new generation which was called anak Deli [a child of Deli]; and this anak Deli was a bud which blossomed splendidly in the development of the Indonesian people. The father of an anak Deli would originate from Mandailing, but his mother was a Minangkabau. The mother of an anak Deli was a woman from Kedu, and his father a Banjar. . . . The outlook of this [new] man was free, and his Malay was fluent, having lost the accents of the place of his ancestors; eventually he made it the foundation stone in the building of the new Bahasa Indonesia.6"1 In some respects Medan in the 1930s was the most 'Indonesian' city in Indonesia. Its Indonesian-language publishing industry was second only to that of Batavia, and sustained some of the leading Indonesian journalists and writers of the period. Most influential was the daily Pewarta Deli, professionally edited from 1931 by Djamaluddin Adinegoro, a Minangkabau and relative of Muhammad Yamin. Adinegoro 68 was also the senior Indonesian member of the last Medan gemeenteraad (municipal council). Under his moderate nationalist editorship the newspaper had by 1940 a circulation as large as any Indonesian daily in the country. There were two other dailies in Medan, the radicalnationalist Sinar Deli and the pro-government Pelita Andalas, as well as some of the most popular Islamic weeklies in Indonesia. 69

THE POLITICAL

MOVEMENT

This 'Indonesian' character ensured that most significant political parties and nationalist organizations which arose in Indonesia were represented in Medan, and that the press of the city vented the growing number of issues which could be said to be of 'national' concern. The enormous diversity of interests, however, made it very difficult for any

60

X

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

'Indonesian' movement to extend from its natural constituency among the educated urban class, predominately Mandailing and Minangkabau, to the Malay aristocracy and its subjects, the Karo or Simalungun small farmers, and the enormous but strictly controlled estate population of Javanese contract labour. The first phase of nationalist activity in East Sumatra began in 1918^ the annus mirabilis of progressive politics throughout Indonesia. Sarekat Islam, ably led by Mohammad Samin, the multi-racial Nationale Indische Partij (Insulinde), and the radical daily Benih Merdeka (the seed of freedom), led a vigorous campaign centring around democratic reforms and the economic problems which began to affect the labourer and peasant with the end of Deli's reckless open frontier during the first world war. In September 1920 the Deli railway was brought to a standstill in an impressively effective strike, which was broken primarily through the vulnerability of the large percentage of Javanese contract labourers among the railway workers. Like the estate labourers, they quickly fell into line when threatened with penal measures for breaking their contracts to work. 70 During 1921 the whole movement began to decline largely because the courts became tougher in prosecuting nationalist politicians and journalists.

Marxist ideas had been spreading outward from some Europeans during this early period, partly through the presence of the still uncommitted T a n Malaka in 1920-1. 7 1 The communist party, P K I , only became organized in the region in 1925, however, under Soetan Said Ali. In November of that year it already organized an embarrassing strike at the Belawan docks at the moment of a visit by the GovernorGeneral. Although its primary base was among organized urban labour, the P K I was the only party to make a real impact among estate labourers, and it also brought the first modern political ideas to the animist Karo ' Bataks, who had remained untouched by Sarekat Islam. 72 jl T h e 1926-7 revolts in Java and West Sumatra provided the local authorities all the repressive machinery they needed to crush the party I and any of its successors which became dangerous. T h e introduction of preventive detention enabled the police, by purely administrative decision, to arrest and intern in Boven Digul (New Guinea) all P K I activists. Among the many interned in 1927-8 was a cell of nine P K I members in Pematang Siantar under a young Dutch-educated Toba Batak, Urbanus Pardede, alleged to be planning 'terrorist' action among the estate workers of Simalungun. That 'the measure of internment was applied on too broad a scale' by the tough conservative Van Kempen was admitted by one of his successors as Governor of East Sumatra. 73 Nineteen alleged East Sumatran communists were released from Digul in 1930, including Urbanus Pardede. A few more prominent ones were

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

61

freed in subsequent years: Xarim M. S., a fiery orator and leading communist in the Aceh region (released in 1932 though not allowed back into Aceh); his brother-in-law Nathar Zainuddin; 7 4 and the brothers Nerus and Nolong Ginting Suka, who had been at liberty as leaders of the Karo P K I as late as 1928. 75 In the course of his campaign against the 'extremists', Governor Van Kempen established an enormous machinery of repression even by contemporary Netherlands Indian standards. In 1926 he created the Gewestelijk Recherche (provincial research), an intelligence organization for East Sumatra which had grown by 1930 to include over sixty permanent officials, in addition to a small army of undercover spies. Alongside this organization the Governor prompted the two planters' organizations, DPV and AVROS, to establish their own intelligence service to weed out 'dangerous' individuals on the estates. Outside East Sumatra the planters' intelligence quickly became notorious because of the way some contract labourers were mishandled by spies. It was gradually limited to a more strictly intelligence function, but it succeeded in making political activity impossible on the estates. 76 The vulnerability of the contract labourers to immediate deportation or detention, together with a very effective ban on outsiders visiting the estates, made them for the rest of the colonial period a political void sealed off from the life of the province.

I

After 1927 political activity was largely restricted to the main towns, and took on the specific language and goals of Indonesian nationalism. Mr Iwa Kusfdna Sumantri, fresh from his experience with the League against Imperialism in Europe, gave a considerable impetus to this mood with his Medan law practice, his short-lived newspaper, Matahari Indonesia, and his promotion of unionism among drivers and government employees. Within eighteen months he was exiled to Banda Neira. 77 Although all East Sumatran organizations were casting themselves in a more national mould, it was only with Sukarno's second party, PARTINDO (Partai Indonesia), that a strong and popular nationalist party structure emerged. Two charismatic Mandailings, Abdoel Hamid Loebis and Mohammad Djoni, drew large crowds to PARTINDO rallies in Medan and Siantar in the early 1930s. Before PARTINDO was crippled nationally by the government prohibition on all its meetings in 1934, it had already suffered heavily in East Sumatra from the constant arrest of its leaders and a ban on its activities in Langkat by the kerajaan there. Hamid Loebis was interned in 1934, and the party was hobbled by impossible restrictions until it finally gave up the unequal struggle in 1936. 78 Its demise gave new importance to the party of Hatta and Sjahrir, the FNl-baru, which was experienced in the ways of circumventing the ban on meetings. In

62

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

general, however, the political movement was effectively suppressed in the middle 1930s. A Dutch report for 1935 described succinctly the factors which inhibited the movement in East Sumatra: a. great diversity of national character, race, and religion, and the very conflicting economic interests of the population. b. the prevailing lack of intellectuals and educated leaders, with those who are here mostly originating from elsewhere. . . . c. the difficulties of direct contact with the respective central executives elsewhere [i.e. Java]. d. the conservative autochthonous population has in general little feeling for political issues. e. the standpoint taken by the kerajaan with respect to extreme associations in particular and against any political expression in general. f. last not least the stricter Government measures since August 1933, providing the means for government and police to act forcefully against antigovernment activities. . . . 79 The fifth of these factors deserves particular attention. Ever since Van Kempen's campaign against the P K I it had been realized that the authority of the five rulers with long contracts over the rights of political assembly and expression could be used with advantage by the Dutch regime. The sultans' dislike for politicians as 'foreigners', impertinent upstarts, and potential rivals was undoubted. Yet the kerajaan would not and could not take strong steps against politicians without the blessing of the government. The point was rather that the provincial government could move more strongly against nationalists through the sultans than government policy publicly allowed, while at the same time diverting criticism of this repression towards the kerajaan. The Langkat sultanate became in 1933 the first area to forbid PARTINDO activity, while the attempt of the party to establish a branch in Asahan in 1935 'was wrecked without difficulty through the agency of the kerajaan'.80 That this policy had the effect of increasing antagonism between the nationalist parties and the kerajaan was no particular cause for regret on the part of the Dutch government. It was one of the demands of even the moderate nationalists that authority over the right of political association be withdrawn from the five big sultanates to the more predictable central government. 81 As far as politicians were concerned, the political repression practised by the kerajaan was a more frequent and genuine source of dissatisfaction than its extravagance or its anachronism. As in other parts of Indonesia, the unfavourable climate for political activity in the 1930s directed nationalists of various persuasions into broader social activity. Banks, insurance companies, and co-operatives of various sorts were founded on a self-reliant 'national' base, excluding the economically dominant Europeans and Chinese. In particular there

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

63

was a feverish expansion of educational facilities. Despite the relative wealth and social and geographic mobility in East Sumatra, which created a high demand for education, only 22.41 boys and 7.52 girls were in government elementary schools for each 1,000 of the Indonesian population in 1934-5, fewer than in Java and much fewer than in Aceh. 82 The earliest Dutch-medium schools had been the 'Deli-school', 'Langkat-schooF, 'Serdang-school', and 'Asahan-schooP established from 1904 for the Malay aristocracy and a few favoured children of higher government officials. In 1916 these were converted into Dutch-Native schools (H.I.S.) and gradually extended to a slightly wider section of the Indonesian elite, while four additional government H.I.S. were opened. By the late 1930s, however, the majority of those obtaining the muchdesired European education in Dutch were attending private schools established by a variety of national organizations. Budi Utomo had been one of the earliest organizations in this field, operating a number of schools for Javanese labourers and migrants. With the growth of national feeling several of these were transferred to Taman Siswa, which opened its first Sumatran branch in Medan in 1929. Despite its Javanese origins and leadership (under Sugondo Kartoprodjo 83 from 1934) Taman Siswa sought with some success to strike local roots while representing a national aspiration. By the late 1930s it had an extensive network of primary and intermediate schools teaching Indonesian, Dutch, and English throughout East Sumatra. The number of local revolutionary leaders it produced was a fair tribute to its aim of 'building a man who is free in his thought, free in his activity, a free man through and through'. 84 At least in the towns outside the control of the kerajaan, Muhammadiah built up a still more impressive organization. Introduced in 1927, it developed not only a large number of Dutch and Indonesian-medium schools and teachers' colleges, but also important organizations for women (Aisjah), scouts (Hizbul Wathan—already the most important scouting group in the province in 1933 with 400 members in ten branches), and youth (Pemuda Muhammadiah). T h e movement showed its strength during its twenty-eighth national Congress, held in Medan in 1939, when public meetings drew between 2,000 and 5,000 people every night for a week. 85 Despite the undoubted nationalist orientation of its urban, educated membership, Muhammadiah set out very deliberately to be 'non-political' and avoid conflicts with the authorities. With the colonial government it succeeded, apart from periodic excesses by its youth branches. The kerajaan, however, never ceased to regard the movement with hostility. In religious matters the Malay rajas had nominally supreme authority, and they stood 'unconditionally and without exception on the side of the kaum tua'&6—the conservative

64

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

tradition of Islam as long practised in the Malay world. Part of their objection rested on Muhammadiah's acceptance of the | ideas of the Egyptian reformers Muhammad Abduh and Rashid Rida, in particular its alleged readiness to use precedents from all the four orthodox schools of Muslim law, rather than adhering exclusively to the Shafi' school long dominant in South-East Asia. Part was simply the challenge which Muhammadiah posed as a strong national organization to the exclusive control of religious affairs by the rulers and their kadhi. Conflicts arose over the date of celebrating the end of the fasting month, over religious texts for use in schools, over which ulama were permitted to teach and preach under kerajaan jurisdiction, and which could officiate at marriages. Inevitably the high proportion of Minangkabaus in the leadership of Muhammadiah was also held against it. In most of the long-contract states it was impossible for Muhammadiah to open schools or to hold public tabligh. . The antagonism between Muhammadiah and the kaum tua was at its most intense in the late 1920s and early 1930s. It was partly in reaction to what were seen as the divisive qualities of Muhammadiah that more traditional teachers and ex-students of Medan's leading religious school, the Maktab Islamiyah Tapanuli, established the Jamiatul Wasliyah in the city in 1930. Mandailing ulama dominated the leadership of the new group, but many of them were thoroughly assimilated into the East Sumatran milieu, like Serdang-born H. A. R. Sjihab, who led the movement from 1933. With sympathy from the rulers, particularly the sultan of Deli, it expanded very rapidly. Initially it simply co-ordinated and extended the traditional village kuranic schools of East Sumatra and Tapanuli, but soon became involved in missionary work among animistic Bataks. Younger and better educated men were attracted to its leadership, and some of its schools began to add modern subjects including Dutch and English. By 1941 it was by far the biggest religious organization in East Sumatra, with 12,500 pupils in the 242 schools and madrasah under its auspices.87 Despite its traditional beginnings and predominantly rural support, the very success of Jamiatul Wasliyah as an organization of national type gave it common interests with Muhammadiah. The latter organization was in turn playing down divisive issues in the late 1930s, and joined Wasliyah in attacking the heterodox Ahmadiah movement.88 By the end of the Dutch period the leaders of these large Islamic organizations could see themselves as legitimate spokesmen for Islam in East Sumatra, whose purposes were frequently impeded by the conservative legal apparatus of the kerajaan. Significant of the mood was the establishment of Ichwanus Safa Indonesia in 1939, as 'an association of intellectuals and ulama in Medan'. It brought the leaders of both

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

65

Wasliyah and Muhammadiah into dialogue with Dutch-educated journalists and officials of nationalist orientation. Chairman of the group was a young Acehnese lawyer employed in the office of the Governor of Sumatra, Mr T . M. Hasan. When in 1941 the third Indonesian Islamic Congress entrusted Wasliyah with the establishment of an all-Indonesian missionary headquarters, the existence of the I.S.I, made it easy for H. A. R. Sjihab to construct a broadly-based committee with only the kerajaan unrepresented. 89 The quiet appearance of Indonesian political life in the 1930s was an illusion, created primarily by the rigorous police controls. The national movement, the pergerakan, was in reality developing rapidly in breadth and depth during this period, while Dutch policies were alienating it relentlessly from the kerajaan. The pergerakan, in its many forms, was increasingly representing the more modern, urban, and educated sections of the Indonesian community, while the Malay sultans were adopting a more and more defensive position based on the unquestioning loyalty of their immediate Malay subjects. Signs of the representative character of pergerakan leaders were not wanting, even if they were invariably ignored by Dutch officials. The principal Indonesian-language periodicals were almost unanimous in their sympathy for the national movement in general terms. The tiny elite of Indonesians in East Sumatra qualified to vote for the municipal councils regularly elected recognizable pergerakan figures to these bodies. Even if some of them were too mindful of their positions to associate openly with political parties, they took a united position in December 1939, braving Dutch scorn to begin using Indonesian rather than Dutch in the Medan council meeting. 90 The still smaller elite of twenty-one East Sumatran electors to the Volksraad, in Batavia, regularly elected one of the most radical nationalists in that body, Maharadja Soangkoepon, 91 to represent them. In 1939, when the Malay aristocracy made a bid to replace him with one of themselves, they lost by 8 votes to l l . 9 2 The abstention of the majority of the Islamic movement from politics was tactical, but there could be little doubt that the members, and especially the younger members, of Muhammadiah and even Wasliyah saw themselves engaged in a great national renewal. In the late 1930s the pergerakan in East Sumatra again found an opportunity to express itself politically, primarily through GERINDO and PARINDRA. That two nationalist parties rather than one were required was again largely a consequence of Dutch repression. Government officials were not permitted to join political organizations of a radical populist kind, such as PARTINDO and later GERINDO. Since few other avenues of employment were open to Indonesians with secondary iijj Hi' or tertiary education, there developed in practice a marked occupa-

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tional distinction between the small number of government officials and professional men in the relatively moderate PARINDRA, and the much larger PARTINDO-GERINDO mainstream, PARINDRA (Partai Indonesia Raya) was established in 1935 by a fusion of Budi Utomo and Dr Sutomo's study club, but its East Sumatra branch attracted such diverse elements as Sjahrir's elder brother St. Noer Alamsjah, and two young radicals who were later prominent in the P K I , S. M . Tarigan and Mr Luat Siregar. The core leaders in the years immediately before the Japanese occupation, however, were a doctor at the city hospital, R. M. Pirngadi, and the Taman Siswa leader Sugondo. T h e total membership of the party probably did not exceed 100 in East Sumatra, but it achieved some influence on youth through Sugondo's pupils and KBI scouts, and after 1938 through its own scouting organization, Surya Wirawan. When a giant like the party's national leader, M. H. Thamrin, visited Medan (November 1939), it could draw a crowd of thousands. GERINDO (Gerakan Rakyat Indonesia) was established nationally in 1937 on the principle that the common front against fascism justified Marxist-inclined nationalists in co-operating tactically with the government. In East Sumatra it was immediately embraced as an opportunity for the radical-nationalist former members of PARTINDO to organize again in the hope of less repressive government treatment. Of the three major PARTINDO figures, Abdoel Hamid Loebis was in Digul and Djauhari Salim in a mental asylum in 1937. T h e third, Mohammad Djoni, 93 became the principal propagandist for the new party. He and the other provincial leaders who emerged from a younger PARTINDO generation—Jacub Siregar, 94 Mohammad Saleh Oemar (Surapati), 95 and Adnan Nur Lubis—made a tenuous living as journalist/politicians and occasional agents in legal cases. In the big city branches of Medan and Siantar the executive members appear to have been primarily small traders, craftsmen, tailors, or clerks in Chinese and Indonesian firms. The party also established active branches in such smaller towns as Binjai, Arnhemia, and Tanah Jawa (all 1938); Kisaran and Sunggal (1939); Tanjung Balai and Kabanjahe (1940). In at least three of these simple farmers were a major element in the leadership: Karos of the Deli dusun in Arnhemia and Sunggal, and Toba migrant farmers in Tanah Jawa. From its formation until the Japanese occupation GERINDO was the largest and most effective political party in East Sumatra. All of the branches mentioned could hold regular members' political 'courses' several times a month, and up to 1,500 attended the public rallies the party held in Medan cinemas. The paid-up membership for the whole province at any one time, however, does not appear to have exceeded 300. 96

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67

The East Sumatran branch reflected the same nationalist militance as its PARTINDO predecessor, and repeatedly urged the GERINDO headquarters in Batavia to abandon its co-operative stance. For its part, the Gewestelijk Recherche had refound its principal antagonist and wasted no time in imposing as many restrictions as legally possible. Djoni was prevented from speaking when he mentioned the struggle for freedom in GERINDO'S first public rally in Medan, and the Resident of East Sumatra immediately asked Batavia for power to silence him permanently. 97 Since government policy was still relatively mild towards GERINDO, however, the local authorities were allowed only to ban Djoni from attendance at all political meetings for a three-month period from September 1938, and Djoni and Adnan Nur Lubis for another three months from April 1939. Meanwhile, in December 1938, the East Sumatra police received government permission to attend all meetings of GERINDO. Covert spies of the Gewestelijk Recherche had already reported on all meetings, even the courses restricted to members only, but they had not been able to interfere. Henceforth speakers even at closed meetings were stopped as soon as they began to refer indirectly to the subject of freedom, or to imply that the economic and social poverty of Indonesians was related to colonialism. 98 GERINDO meetings quickly developed into bland educational affairs, occasionally punctuated by these frustrating games with the police. The local government continued to demand the internment of Djoni, the 'driving force' of GERINDO and by far its most popular speaker. 99 Batavia preferred to work through the GERINDO central executive, however, threatening it with restrictions on the whole party if it proved unable to control its unruly East Sumatran branch. The party secretary, Tabarani Notosoedirdjo, was duly sent to tame the branch in Medan in June 1939. What this meant in practice was to re-arrange the local power structure so as to minimize, and finally exclude, the influence of Djoni. By August, Jacub Siregar, younger, MULO-educated, and more sophisticated in dealing with the Dutch, had been appointed commissaris of GERINDO for East Sumatra. The following month Djoni resigned and began to construct a rival branch of PARPINDO, the party of Mr Muhammad Yamin, who had himself been expelled from the central executive of GERINDO. 100

That there was more to GERINDO than Djoni's charismatic oratory was demonstrated by the continued steady expansion of the party until May 1940, when all public political meetings were forbidden by the army commander in East Sumatra. Djoni's PARPINDO flourished briefly when Yamin visited Medan in January 1940, but the mercurial Minangkabau did not succeed in enrolling even his influential halfbrother Adinegoro. Djoni attracted no significant leaders to his party,

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although militant branches were established in Medan and Siantar. GERINDO continued to represent the mainstream of radical nationalism in the province, and PARPINDO its flamboyant vanguard, locked in continual battle with the police. Djoni was finally arrested and interned in June 1940, and four other leaders of his party were barred from all political activity for various periods between March and July 1941.101

PERSATUAN

SUMATERA

TIMUR

Eventually the growing breadth and strength of the national movement had to affect even the Malay population of East Sumatra, either by attraction or repulsion. Until the late 1930s it had appeared that the Malay aristocracy, to whom post-primary education had been virtually limited, accepted the general premise that Malay problems should be resolved through traditional palace channels. So dominant were the rulers within Malay society that it was extremely difficult for any highborn Malay, however sympathetic with nationalism as a young student, to place himself outside the court circle. The first evidence of change came from a small group of Dutcheducated Malay commoners in Medan, who established the Persatuan Sumatera Timur (East Sumatra Association), or P S T , in April 1938. The two leading figures, Abdoel Wahab and Zahari, were school-teachers acutely aware of the relative backwardness of the three 'autochthonous' ethnic groups of East Sumatra in education, and hence in every other sphere. One specific reason for their concern appears to have been the growing proportion of less assimilable Toba Batak Christians among the steady influx of school-teachers and officials to fill positions in East Sumatra for which there were no qualified locals. Zahari explained the reasons for founding the association: When we look outside our residency and see the rapid progress of our brothers from other residencies, we begin to realise that we sons of East Sumatra have really been left behind in everything, but especially in education and economy. . . . That being so, we will be little respected by anyone. Just look at the situation of the sons of East Sumatra now in every field! Backward and left behind by the foreigners. In government offices, in agriculture, in commerce, etc. Let us not be jealous; let us not be resentful. Let us not blame them or anybody else, but accept that the fault lies at our own door. Why do we continue to sleep ? Why do we not pull ourselves together and put our own house in order? 102 The organization made rapid progress in its first few months, primarily amongst Malay, Karo, and Simalungun commoners in the towns, resentful of the dominant position of 'foreigners' there. It quickly ran

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into two types of problem however. The first was the difficulty of defining who was an anak Sumatera Timur (son of East Sumatra) entitled to membership. An elaborate compromise was eventually worked out, whereby all who regarded East Sumatra as home for themselves and their children were entitled to various junior ranks of membership (groups B, C, and D), whereas group A members were defined as those whose ancestors had already come to reside in the area before it was opened to Western plantations in the 1860s. 103 This formula ended neither internal wrangling nor criticism from outside that the organization was 'directed against other ethnic groups'. 104 The other problem, which the P S T shared with the persatuan being established for similar reasons by Malayan Malays, was the traditional loyalty and deference of Malays to their rulers. When the early commoner leadership complained of the 'obstacles' to the further development of the P S T , and the resistance of those who 'feared the P S T was a radical or leftist organization'; when they pleaded for co-operation from the rajas, they testified to the birth-pains of a totally new concept of power within Malay society. 105 Much as the P S T professed its loyalty and its non-political character, in the eyes of the rulers it necessarily represented a challenge to their leadership, especially when led by urban commoners. The aristocracy held aloof, while much of the early support came from already de-traditionalized migrants to the city. The first branch formed in Medan had a Karo GERiNDO-member as its secretary. The branch executive resigned en masse in October 1938, after an irreconcilable conflict with the main leadership. Mohammad Saidt, a prominent journalist who had been expelled from PARINDRA'S executive for helping to found the P S T , also dropped out as the other leaders continued to woo the Malay elite with a cautious policy emphasizing ethnic interests. 106 This policy had its reward at the P S T ' s first major conference in February 1940, where the Malay establishment demonstrated dramatically its change of heart. T h e crown princes of Deli and Serdang graced the reception, and the leading 'intellectual' aristocrats offered themselves for the leadership. Dr Tengku Mansur, 107 uncle of the Sultan of Asahan, was elected chairman, and Mr Tengku Bahrioen of Deli secretary, while the original commoner leaders became junior members of the executive. The rapid expansion of the P S T was assured. The better-educated aristocrats in each region formed branches, including the two leading Simalungun 'intellectuals', Madja Poerba and Mr Djaidin Poerba, in the Siantar branch. By 1941 the P S T had over 900 members all over the province. T h e cost of this success was the conservatism to which the P S T became committed, once it represented within itself a social hierarchy little different from that of Malay society as a whole. T h e

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changes it implied were of fundamental importance—in extending a sense of identity from the particular statelet or ethnic group to the whole residency; in establishing a more able and educated group of aristocrats as potential leaders; in showing 'for the first time interest.. . in royal circles for an association set up for and by the people'. 108 Under Dr Mansur the association nevertheless diverged irreconcilably from the national movement as a whole, not only by its 'parochial' emphasis but also by its caution; its sense of hierarchy; its pro-Government stance; its exclusivism. In relation to the pergerakan as a whole it was 'like a drugged man, never making his voice heard; without strength to face any new issue, still simply content with his shortcomings'. 109 THE LAND

ISSUE,

1938-1941

As a general rule the factors outlined above limited the membership of modern political movements to the towns. The 1930s, however, marked an increasing period of uncertainty for farmers of the tobacco area (Deli-Serdang-Langkat), which eventually provided the rudiments of an important rural base for the parties. The willingness of the tobacco estates to offer prepared jaluran fields to all those with some sort of claim on the land already began to weaken during the 1920s for the reasons explained above. In earlier years anybody with a house in the affected village might expect a jaluran. By the late 1920s a practice had developed in the Karo areas of Deli of giving only a half jaluran to recent migrants from the Karo plateau. Dutch officials were also critical of the jaluran practice, both because it inhibited the development of more productive sawah (wet-rice) agriculture, necessary to make the province more self-sufficient in rice, and because it was thought to encourage laziness and lack of initiative on the part of the recipients. 110 The first commission was established in 1929 to seek a permanent solution to the conflicts which increasingly arose each year when the harvested tobacco fields were distributed. T h e commission became enmeshed in broader problems, however, while the issue was exacerbated by the effects of the depression after 1930. The tobacco estates reduced the area planted, and hence the area available for jaluran, while at the same time more people were thrown back on agriculture by the disappearance of casual labouring jobs. In 1932 a much closer official investigation was made to distinguish those fully entitled to land allocations on the grounds that their ancestors were there at the time of the original concession (group A), from those who had moved in later and were therefore regarded as having only a half-entitlement (group B).

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71

It proved necessary to cut down on jaluran as perquisites to the Malay chiefs, and to reduce the size of each jaluran from the previous norm of 6000 sq. metres (0.6 hectare). 111 Despite the hardship these measures imposed, they appear to have aroused little protest. One reason was undoubtedly the mood of crisis requiring sacrifice all around. T h e other was that the reduced interest of the estates in planting made it possible to allocate other land, in lieu of jaluran, to those who had the energy to clear it. As the acreage planted by estates again increased after 1934, planters demonstrated an increasing impatience with the whole system of jaluran. It was not difficult to foresee a time when it would greatly restrict their freedom of using the concession land. Some scientific opinion argued that it was unsafe to allow any cultivation save the carefully controlled tobacco-planting on the precious soil. An opportunity to abandon the system was presented by the plans being drawn up in the 1930s to convert the estate concessions, the earliest of which had already expired in 1931, into erfpacht (long-term leases). The insistence of the sultans, and more importantly of Governor Van Suchtelin (1933-6), that the population could not survive the total abolition of jaluran, held up this impetus for a time. Under a new Governor, however, a scheme for erfpacht giving the estates full control of their land without jaluran took solid shape in a report of late 1937. T h e original concession agreements had obliged the estates to provide for the inhabitants an area immediately surrounding each village, plus at least 4 bahu (2.8 hectares) of land for each cultivator on a shifting basis. The tendency of some farmers in the depression to insist on this right because of the reduced size of jaluran was another reason for the estates to seek to limit the demands upon them. In the 1937 report, therefore, it was proposed to give each fully-entitled cultivator (group A) his 4 bahu, but on a permanent rather than a shifting basis. Group B farmers would receive 2 bahu in compensation for the jaluran they had been enjoying for years. Although not all estates were willing to surrender sufficient land to make this possible, larger slices would be taken from the big concessions. Between 16 and 20 per cent of the concession area was to be alienated in this way, which was calculated as more than enough for the 7,944 householders reckoned to belong to group A and 7,854 to group B in Deli, Serdang, and Langkat. 112 When this scheme became a matter of public discussion during 1938 it naturally aroused anxiety among the farmers of the region. The land to be alienated was decided rather at the convenience of the estates than the villagers, and many of the lots were at a considerable distance from the homes of those to receive them. Some of those who had received jaluran in the past were excluded in the more rigorous investigation

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for these permanent allocations .Most important, despite the Governor's doubt whether the Malay farmer had sufficient initiative left in him to cultivate so large an area, 4 bahu was too small an area to cultivate by the old slash-and-burn methods. T o allow so small a plot, let alone half that amount, presupposed a more intensive land use than was traditional in East Sumatra, in areas for the most part difficult to irrigate. It was the Karos of the Deli dusun who resisted these moves most actively. They were much more strongly attached to agriculture than the Malays, most of whom were expected to rent or sell their plots to Chinese and Javanese as they had done in the past. Moreover the corporate nature of the Karo hamlet and village units provided a natural basis of organization independent of the kerajaan hierarchy. As had happened in the past, Karo disaffection appeared to be most intense in the Sunggal region, now known officially as the Serbanyaman urung of the Deli sultanate. 113 The first evidence of this unrest occurred in early 1936, when a village headman in Serbanyaman was sentenced to a year's imprisonment for having incited his fellow Karos to cease paying tax and performing herendienst.114 Much more serious was the dissatisfaction when jaluran were distributed in May 1938 on the basis of the new registration of entitlements. About 600 Karo farmers from the dusun formed a deputation to complain to the Sultan of Deli. T h e two major political parties had already begun to emphasize the threat which the new erfpacht ordinance posed to farmers, with Jacub Siregar the most active spokesman for GERINDO and Mr Luat Siregar for PARINDRA. 115 This evidence of massive Karo dissatisfaction provided a rare chance for GERINDO to reach the masses. Mohammad Djoni immediately took up the land issue, attacking the Sultan of Deli in a strong speech at Siantar before being stopped by the police. He promised to raise the difficulties of the farmers of the plantation area with authorities in Batavia. In June the party established a branch in Arnhemia, the only sizeable town in upper Deli, with a couple of Karos in the executive. T h e response exceeded their expectations. Ten Karos from the dusun journeyed to the GERINDO clubhouse in Medan the same month, to ask help in making their grievances heard. The result was the immediate formation of Sarikat Tani Indonesia (Indonesian farmers union), or SETIA, under a former village headman and PARTINDO member, Minta Karo-Karo. 116 SETIA expanded very quickly, with branches holding regular meetings at several villages. It was exclusively an organization of Karo farmers of the Deli dusun, seeking a common solution to the jaluran question and other agricultural issues. As a non-political organization it enjoyed more freedom than GERINDO, though the ever-present spies of the Gewestelijk Recherche believed it to be completely under the , j , i . •

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73

influence of that party. Before long the administration of the Deli sultanate was brought into play against the growing strength of the movement. Fourpenghulu (village headmen) resigned from SETIA in September 1938 after warnings from their superiors, though professing to their comrades that they would nevertheless 'remain loyal supporters of SETIA in their hearts'. 117 Three months later two village leaders who had not withdrawn were dismissed from their posts. Tengku Otteman, the crown prince of Deli, warned his Karo subjects in Sibolangit against the movement, urging them to bring their complaints to the 'proper authorities'. In the same month (December), the secretary and vice-president were imprisoned for two weeks for embezzling some SETIA funds, although their followers naturally regarded them as political martyrs. 118 Faced with this pressure the SETIA leaders attempted to place more emphasis on co-operative buying of fertilizers and selling of crops. The demand for land was not forgotten, however, even if it had to be pursued in different ways. In Medan Mohammad Djoni tried to make up the ground he had lost in leaving GERINDO by floating a grandiose Comite Pencegah Kelaparan (committee to prevent starvation), to register all land requirements and demand appropriate grants by the estates. 119 The Karos appear to have begun to organize more quietly and effectively. According to a Japanese police report on the aron disturbances of 1942, 120 SETIA responded to government repression by: . . . gradually transforming itself into an underground movement resembling a secret society, and forcing the inhabitants to enter the movement. Those who refused to enter the movement were beaten or killed. Members of this aron party undertook: i. to keep the secrets of the aron; 2. to pass on quickly any information obtained by members; 3. to fight bravely against any officials who came to the place where members were working [land illegally]; 4. to sentence to death members who betrayed the secrets of the aron... . Thus the aron party organized about 2,000 inhabitants of 331 villages in Arnhemia [i.e. Upper Deli] district, and established one large secret society. An aron in Karo society is a group of less than ten men who jointly plough and harvest their fields, so that the 'secret society' could only have acquired this name when it reached the stage of cultivating land illegally. Some such illegal cultivation may have been allowed in 1940-1, as this coincided with government wartime policy of emphasizing subsistence rather than export agriculture. The violent phase of the movement probably began only as Dutch authority was collapsing in 1942. Nevertheless the scale of the disturbances which broke out when the Dutch regime had departed show that in East Sumatra, as in Aceh, there were acute areas of tension beneath the calm surface of the colonial regime.

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l. Tan Malaka, Dari Pendjara ke Pendjara, vol. I (lakarta, Widjaya, n.d.), pp. 48-9, and p. 47. 2. T h e first careful estimate of the population of the Deli Sultanate, in 1876, listed 11,963 Malays, 20,060 (Karo) Bataks, and 4,543 Chinese and others; E. A. Halewijn, 'Geographische en Ethnographische gegevens betreffende het Rijk van Deli', TBG, 23 (1876), pp. 147-58. Most estimates for the whole East Sumatran population prior to 1880 are under 150,000. V

3. Ladislao Szekely, Tropic Fever. The adventures of a planter in Sumatra, trans. Marion Saunders (London, Hamish Hamilton, n.d.), p. 8. This autobiographical sketch is set in the period 1910-14. Cf. Tan Malaka I, p. 51: 'With a white skin, a big stick, a few words of market Malay and thirteen godverdommes, they could get all the knowledge and experience from the chief mandur (foreman).' 4. 'The first thing I learned in Sumatra was that there are two kinds of people in the world: white and coloured. T h e white man is the master, master and ruler in the strict sense of the word.' Szekely, p. 45. 5. Willem Brandt, De Aarde van Deli ('s-Gravenhage, Van Hoeve, 1948). Brandt's warmly sentimental picture of the Deliaan is a contrast and to some extent a response to the more detached and critical picture in the novels of a number of non-Dutch or women writers, notably Annie Salomons, Mevr. Szekely-Lulofs and her husband L. Szekely, and Tscherming Peterson. T h e Dutch literature of Deli is discussed in Lily Clerkx, Mensen in Deli (Amsterdam, stencil, 1961); and Rob Nieuwenhuys, Oost-Indische Spiegel (Amsterdam, Querido, 1973), pp. 346-52. 6. Tan Malaka, I, p. 51. Tan Malaka, fresh from a teachers' college in Holland, was employed by the progressive director of the Senembah Company, Dr Janssen, to teach in an experimental school for the children of plantation workers at Tanjung Morawa, between December 1919 and June 1921. Despite the unusually privileged working conditions Dr Janssen intended for him, Tan Malaka was radicalized by the climate of Deli, like many another Indonesian intellectual. 7. Oostkust van Sumatra [OvS] Instituut, Kroniek 1929 (Amsterdam, 1930), pp. 43-8. 8. Ibid., 1929, pp. 35-6; 1930, pp. 38-9. Dr H. C. van Rooyen, the propagandist at the heart of the 1929 hysteria, did not retain his leadership of the Vaderlandsche Club as it became more respectable. In 1930 he had to defend a libel suit for an offensive attack on the head of the Labour Office. 9. Despite having only sixty paid-up members, the Medan N.S.B. Branch was active enough to produce a militant monthly, Hou Zee, in 1934—5. OvS Instituut, Kroniek, 1934, pp. 63-5; 1935, pp. 63-4; 1938, p. 65. Politiek Verslag SOK 1934, p. 4; 1935, 1938, pp. 3^1; in Mailr. 602 x /35, 308 x /36, and 384 x /39 respectively. J. M. Pluvier, Overzicht van de Ontwikkeling der Nationalistische Beweging in Indonesie, in de jaren 1930 tot 1942 (The Hague, Van Hoeve, 1953), p. 40. 10. The image is that of Charles Robequain, Malaya, Indonesia, Borneo and the Philippines (London, Longman, 1958), p. 334. 11. Anthony Reid, 'Early Chinese Migration into North Sumatra', in Studies in the Social History of China and Southeast Asia, ed. J. Ch'en and N . Tarling (Cambridge, 1970), pp. 289-320.

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75

12. The figures up to 1916 are from the Koloniaal Verslag, and thereafter from the annual Kroniek of the OvS Instituut. 13. Verslag van de Economischen Toestand der Indische Bevolking, 1924, II, pp. 214-24. See also A. D. A. de Kat Angelino, Colonial Policy (The Hague, Nijhoff, 1931), II, p. 557. 14. The intense debate over the penal sanction for Deli labour is well covered in De Kat Angelino, II, pp. 497-578; and J. H. Boeke, The Structure of the Netherlands Indian Economy (New York, 1942), pp. 142-51. 15. From annual Kroniek of OvS Instituut. 16. Ibid. The Kroniek for 1929, pp. 48-51, and 1930, pp. 59-60, provide more detailed figures for the most violent year, 1929: 36 attacks (2 deaths) and 19 threats against Europeans by Javanese workers; 4 attacks and 8 threats against Europeans by Chinese workers; 14 attacks (1 death) and 2 threats against mandur by Javanese workers; 15 attacks (1 death) and 3 threats against tandil by Chinese workers; and 1 fatal attack by a Batak on a Javanese mandur. 17. See especially Bouwes Bavinck to Governor-General, 9 October 1937, pp. 59-67, Mailr. 67 x /39; and other correspondence collected in Verbaal, 1 June 1939, no. 14. The Sultan of Deli made clear that he wished the erfpacht question speedily resolved so that he could enjoy the large initial persen tanah before resigning the throne to his son. Geheime MvO SOK, Ezerman, 1933, p. 58, Mailr. 886 x /33; and Geheime MvO SOK, Bouwes Bavinck, 1938, p. 12, Mailr. 538 x /39. 18. Bouwes Bavinck to Director B.B., 20 June 1938, Mailr. 534 x /39. An earlier and more indulgent Governor described with apparent approval how the Senembah Company had built a fine stone house for the Tengku Bendahara Temenggong of Serdang, who was thereby 'eliminated' as an opponent in negotiations over the terms for the erfpacht. Two Datuks had received similar gifts not long before 'whereby they were morally obligated to take a fair standpoint towards the Company—which in general co-operates well with European officials'. Geheime MvO SOK, Ezerman, 1933, pp. 12-13, Mailr. 886 x /33. 19. These figures are derived from the Koloniaal Verslag for 1916 and 1930 respectively. 20. Tuanku Machmoed Abdoel Djalil Rachmat Sjah was born in 1893 and came to the Langkat throne on the death of his forceful and respected father Abdul Aziz in 1927. His wealth and the organization of his state isolated him more from his datuks than was the case in other states. Machmoed quickly became morbid and suspicious to the point of paranoia, and believed some of his relatives were attempting to poison him. Partly for this reason he employed the psychiatrist and litterateur Dr Amir as private doctor from 1937. He died in April 1948, two years after losing his throne in the 'social revolution'. 21. Appendices 12-14 in MvO SOK, Ezerman, 1933, Mailr. 929 x /33. 22. MvO Serdang, Gerritson, 1938, p. 43, Tropen. 23. Ibid., p. 74. 24. Bouwes Bavinck to Governor-General, 9 October 1937, p. 13, Mailr. 67 x /34; MvO SOK, Ezeiman, 1933, pp. 216-17, Mailr. 929 x /33. 25. Verslag van den Economischen Toestand der Inlandsche Bevolking, 1924, II, pp. 212-13.

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

26. T h e fullest description of the administration of the Karo dusun is a 1932 note by the controleur of Boven Deli, W. B. Holleman, published in Adatrechtbundels X X X V I I I , 1936, pp. 369-94. 27. MvO Boven Serdang, J. de Ridder, 1924, pp. 20-3, Tropen. 28. J. de Ridder, De invloed van de Westersche Cultures op de Autochthone Bevolking ter Oostkust van Sumatra (Wageningen, Veenman, 1935), p. 93. 29. These tensions were at their worst in 1930, when the Siak Sultan attempted to assert his formal precedence during his negotiations to marry a relative of the Sultan of Langkat. The latter responded by boycotting the entire wedding, to the extent of cutting the electricity supply to the reception. Straits Times, 1 February 1930. 30. Verslag van den Economischen Toestand. . . 1924, II, pp. 212-13. 31. Compare Peranan Keradjaan Siak dalam Sedjarah Nasional Indonesia (stencil, Universitas Riau, 1970) pp. 20-1 and 31-4, with Geheime MvO SOK, Ezerman, 1933, pp. 98-102, Mailr. 886 x /33. 32. In 1924 there were fifteen exporters in the district with incomes in excess of f.1,000; Verslag van den Economischen Toestand . . . 1924, II, p. 213. 33. Paul Pederson, Batak Blood and Protestant Soul (Grand Rapids, 1970)' p. 120. H. H. Bartlett, The Labors of the Datoe, Michigan Papers on South and Southeast Asia no. 5 (1973), pp. 317-25, has a sensitive treatment of the Malay/Batak language boundary. 34. Sultan Saiboen was born in 1908, and was acknowledged as successor on the death of his grandfather Sultan Hoesin of Asahan in 1915. Until 1933 Asahan was governed (very efficiently in Dutch eyes) by a regent, Saiboen's uncle Tengku Alang Jahja. Although well educated in Batavia schools, Saiboen was easy-going and genial, more of a sportsman than a politician. Even after assuming the throne he remained under the influence of his able uncles—first Tengku Musa and later Dr Mansur, both of them westernized Malays with Dutch wives but conservative temperaments. 35. MvO Asahan, Boterhaven de Haan, p. 28, Tropen. 36. Money was one measure and weapon in this process. Deli had been the most successful at absorbing under Dutch aegis rulers who had been autonomous or independent in the nineteenth century, like the rajas of Padang and Bedagai, and the datuks of Hamperan Perak and Sunggal. Under the Dutch Deli was still regarded as having a more collegial and diffuse power structure, though the sultan's income by 1931 was four times that of his wealthiest chief (Bedagai earned f.41,350). T h e sultans of Serdang and Langkat earned four or five times as much as all subordinate chiefs combined. Appendices 12-14 in MvO SOK, Ezerman, 1933, Mailr. 929 x /33. 37. Geheime MvO SOK, Ezerman, 1933, pp. 11-15, Mailr. 886 x /33. Tengku is the most common title for Malay nobility. Unlike the Aceh dynasty, only the ruler bore the title Tuanku. 38. The debts and other problems of the rulers were the principal concern of the geheime (secret) Memories van Overgave of Governors Ezerman and Van Suchtelin, and Resident Bouwes Bavinck, and are discussed in detail there. T h e extravagant 'Sodom and Gomorrah' life-style which the younger Malay aristocrats were reputed to lead in Medan at this period is luridly suggested in M. O. Parlindungan, Tuanku Rao (Jakarta, 1946), pp. 534-54.

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

77

39. Herinneringen vanjhr. Mr B. C. dejonge, ed. S. L. van der Wal (Groningen, 1968), pp. 172-3. Geheime MvO SOK, Ezerman, 1933, pp. 30-1, Mailr. 886 x /33. 40. Geheime MvO SOK, Ezerman, 1933, pp. 2 and 15, Mailr. 886 x /33. 41. Ibid., p. 71. 42. Geheime MvO SOK, Van Suchtelin, 1936, pp. 1-3, and Bouwes Bavinck, 1938, pp. 1-5. Mailr. 251 x /36 & 538 x /30 respectively. 43. Geheime MvO, Ezerman, 1933, pp. 18-19. 44. Geheime MvO SOK, Bouwes Bavinck, 1938, p. 5. 45. Dutch indignation with him on the corvee and erfpacht questions, among others, are in MvO Serdang, de Ridder, 1924, pp. 19-20; and Geheime MvO SOK, Ezerman, 1933, pp. 5-10, 22-3 and 42. Sultan Soeleiman Sjarifoel Alamsjah was born in 1861 and came to the throne as a minor in 1880. He signed the Acte van Verband with the Dutch and ruled personally only in 1887. His first overseas visit, in 1898, was to Japan, and unlike his colleagues he never visited Holland. He employed Japanese rather than Dutchmen, including one, Ohori, who was responsible for the management of the palace in the 1930s. The two Japanese palace employees disappeared just before Pearl Harbor, though Ohori returned to Palembang during the war as a Lt.-Colonel and political adviser. T h e sultan also annoyed the Dutch by using as a political adviser Tengku Fachroeddin (1882-1937), a journalist and Islamic nationalist who had introduced Sarekat Islam to Serdang. He entertained such prominent nationalists as Ki Hadjar Dewantoro (1938) and M. H. Thamrin (1939). His health began to fail during the war and he died in Republican detention in 1946. 46. J. Tideman, Simeloengoen, p. 219. 47. In 1938, 151,295 hectares were alienated to estates of a total land area of 420,158 hectares in Simalungun: MvO Simeloengoen en Karoland [henceforth S & K], Meindersma, 1938, p. 24, Tropen. 48. Appendices in ibid. 49. A study of income and taxation in 1929 sampled various social categories in different parts of the residency. Among the highest taxed, at rates above 10 per cent, were both food and cash-crop farmers in Simalungun. Verslag van den economischen toestand en den belastingdruk met betrekking tot de Inlandsche bevolking van de gewesten Oostkust van Sumatra en Lampongsche districten (Weltrevreden, 1929), I, pp. 41-4. 50. Interview Abdullah Jusuf, 17 August 1972. 51. An example of this attitude was a report prepared for the Japanese in 1942: 'About 60 years ago, these [Simalungun] people had no civilization at all, being a race of degenerate savages and hunters who produced their daily rice food by burning down jungle and planting the seeds in the ashes. . . . T h e Netherlands Government brought peace, order, and an existence worthy of human beings to these people'; The General Agricultural Condition of Simeloengoen (stencil, 1942), p. 7. See also K-S-S, 23-X-2603. 52. Lance Castles, 'The Political Life of a Sumatran Residency: Tapanuli 1915-1940', Unpublished Ph.D. thesis (Yale, 1972), pp. 191-5; Politiek Verslag SOK, 1933, pp. 3-4, and 1936, p. 4, Mailr. 816 x /34 and 427 x /37, respectively; MvO S & K, Van Rhijn, 1936, pp. 5-7, Tropen.

78

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

53. Lance Castles, 'Statelessness and Stateforming Tendencies among the Batak', in Pre-colonial state systems in Southeast Asia, ed. A. Reid and L. Castles, p. 72, suggests that indirect rule through rajas originated with estate interests in East Sumatra, while the pattern of direct rule in Tapanuli originated in West Sumatra where it had proved more compatible with the system of forced cultivation. 54. MvO S & K, Van Rhijn, 1936, pp. 37-8. See also W. Middendorp, 'The administration of the outer provinces of the Netherlands Indies', in B. Schrieke (ed.), The effect of Western Influences on native civilisations in the Malay Archipelago (Batavia, 1929), pp. 54-6. 55. The concept of sibayak derived from the 'four rajas' designated by the Sultan of Aceh in the sixteenth or early seventeenth century to represent his authority in Karoland. By the nineteenth century little remained of the institution but the memory. 56. MvO S & K, Van Rhijn, 1936, p. 37. 57. The salaries ranged from f. 3,960 p.a. for the sibayak of Lingga (which contained over a third of the population of Karoland), to f. 1,200 p.a. for the sibayak of Kuta Buluh. Appendix to MvO S & K, Meindersma, 1938, Tropen. 58. Ibid., pp. 22-4. Meindersma defended a Karo belief that the Dutch had promised in 1904 that no estates would be permitted in Karoland. 59. Middendorp, pp. 63-4. Cf. D. H. Penny and Masri Singarimbun, 'Economic activity among the Karo Batak of Indonesia: A case study in economic change', in Bulletin of Indonesian Economic Studies, 6 (February 1967), pp. 31-65. 60. Pederson, p. 138. Meindersma, in MvO S & K, 1938, pp. 10-11, likened the Karos to Spartans and the Simalunguns to Athenians, because of the latter's relatively ready response to western ideas! The Karo church had begun earlier than the Simalungun under the aegis of planter interests, but appeared to stagnate in the 1920s and 1930s. 61. J. M. van der Kroef, in Millenial Dreams in Action. Essays in Comparative Study, ed. Sylvia Thrupp (The Hague, 1962), pp. 100-1; MvO Karolanden, Lanting, 1937, p. 69: MvO S & K, Meindersma, 1938, pp. 26-7. In 1924 the average Karo taxpayer was estimated to pay f.9.07 in all forms, Verslag van den Economischen Toestand . . . 1924, II, pp. 215-20. 62. Encyclopaedisch Bureau, Oostkust van Sumatra (Weltevreden, 1918-19), I, p. 204. 63. Van der Kroef, pp. 100-1; Castles, 'Political Life', pp. 82-90. 64. Encyclopaedisch Bureau, Oostkust van Sumatra, II, pp. 13-15; 'Nota Lingga' signed Van den Berg, 1934, pp. 9 and 21-8, Tropen; Interviews. For a discussion of land disputes in the 1960s, see Masri Singarimbun in Villages in Indonesia, ed. Koentjaraningrat (Ithaca, 1967), pp. 121-3. 65. Zentgraaff and Van Goedoever, Smnatraantjes,

p. 164.

66. Although an ethnic breakdown of urban population is not available, proportions can be gauged from the 1930 figures for the Deli/Serdang afdeling, which included Medan and Tebing Tinggi. These were 21,369 Mandailing and Angkola Bataks and 11,856 Minangkabaus, as against only 2,472 Toba Bataks. E. Bruner, 'Urbanisation and Ethnic Identity in North Sumatra',

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

79

American Anthropologist, 63 (1961), pp. 508-21, has stressed the resistance of the Christian Toba Batak to assimilation in Medan, but their massive migration occurred only after 1940. 67. Hamka, 'Pendahuluan tjetakan ketiga', Merantau ke Deli (Jakarta, 1966), pp. 5-6. 68. Djamaluddin Adinegoro was given the former name at his birth in Sawahlunto (West Sumatra) in 1903, but adopted the latter as a journalistic soubriquet. He was closely related to both D r Amir and M r Muhammad Yamin. He first studied medicine at the Batavia STOVIA (1918-25) and then journalism at the University of Wurzburg and in Munich (1926-30). It was considered a great coup when Pewarta Deli hired him in 1931 at the unprecedented salary of f.250 a month. Of the six Indonesians elected to the Medan gemeenteraad in August 1938, he was the only one occupying the higher office of wethouder. 69. A 1940 report in S. L. van der Wal (ed.), De Volksraad en de Staatkundige Ontwikkeling van Nederlands-Indie (Groningen, 1964-5), II, p p . 594-5, gives a circulation figure of 2,500 for the three leading dailies (including Pewarta Deli) and also for the leading weeklies (including Medan's Pandji Islam and Pedoman Masjarakat) in Netherlands India. 70. MvO SOK Grijzen, 1921, pp. 5-6, Mailr. 2663/22. 71. Although Tan Malaka wrote frequently for the nationalist press in Medan and was a candidate for the East Sumatran seat in the Volksraad in 1921 (Benih Merdeka, 11 January 1921), he appears not to have joined the P K I or Sarekat Islam before leaving the region in June 1921. At least one later P K I leader, Joenoes Nasution, nevertheless acknowledged in an interview having learned his Marxism from Tan Malaka. 72. According to one informant, P K I propaganda in Karoland was somewhat crude at this period, advancing the argument that whoever killed a Dutch official would take his place. 73. Ezerman to Governor-General, 25 November 1930, Mailr. 1297 x /30. 74. Nathar Zainuddin (1900-50) was born in Natal (West Sumatra) of mixed Indian and Minangkabau parentage, but grew up in Idi (eastern Aceh), the birthplace of Xarim M . S. (1901-60). Despite their early friendship there, where Nathar married Xarim's sister, they appear to have followed different paths into the P K I and espoused very different types of communism. Xarim (originally Abdul Karim bin Moehamad Soetan) had the better education, including three years in the Dutch medium. He worked first as a draftsman in the Lhokseumawe branch of the Public Works Dept., and was very active in its union (VIPBOW). His first political enthusiasm was for the nationalist National Indisch Partij, whose Lhokseumawe chairman he was until transferred to Padang in 1920. Always an active journalist and writer, he edited Hindia Sepakat (Sibolga) and later Utusan Rajat (Langsa). He entered the P K I in Langsa and by the end of 1924 had become a member of its national executive. He was sent to Digul in May 1927. After his release in January 1932 he became a 'non-political' journalist in Medan. Notoriously a communist with very bourgeois tastes, he sometimes joked that his initials meant man senang (looking for a good life). He left the P K I in 1952. Nathar was a conductor on the Atjeh tramway and active in the communist-led VSTP (railway workers' union). He was expelled from Atjeh

80

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

in May 1923 following a VSTP strike. He then became associated with the West Sumatran P K I leader Haji Datuk Batuah, whom he had reportedly converted to communism. Both men taught at the Sumatra Thawalib Islamic School in Padang Panjang, the centre of Islamic-communist ideas in Sumatra, until arrested in November 1923. Nathar edited the popular Islamiccommunist journal Djago! Djago! during this Padang Panjang period. He and Batuah were both sentenced to internment in January 1925, first in Timor and then in Boven Digul. Unlike Xarim and Urbanus Pardede, Nathar joined the militant Aliarcham faction among P K I internees, and was released later than the others, in 1937. 75. MvO SOK Van Kempen, 1928, p. 44, and Van Sandinck, 1930, p. 8, Mailr. 3058/28 and 214 x /31 respectively. 76. MvO SOK Van Kempen, 1928, pp. 57-60, and Van Sandinck, 1930, pp. 87-105. Van Sandinck to Governor-General, 11 August 1930, Mailr. 214 x /31. 77. Iwa opened his Medan law practice in January 1928, and was arrested after a house search in July 1929, ostensibly on the basis of incriminating foreign contacts. MvO SOK, Van Sandinck, 1930, p. 6. 78. Politiek Verslagen SOK, 1933 to 1936. Among the more effective PARTINDO leaders was the young Adam Malik (Indonesian Foreign Minister from 1966), who led the flourishing Siantar branch. T h e headquarters of the party moved to Siantar in 1936. 79. Politiek Verslag SOK, 1935, pp. 1-2, Mailr. 398 x /36. 80. Ibid., p. 2. 81. E.g. the resolutions submitted by the North Sumatran branch of PARINDRA to its national congress in December 1938; Politiek Verslag SOK, December 1938, p. 11, Mailr. 222 x /39. 82. Atlas van Tropisch Nederland, 1939, p. 9. 83. Sugondo Kartoprodjo was born in Yogyakarta in 1908, and in 1932 was sent to Kutaraja by the Taman Siswa headquarters to open a school there. He moved to Medan in 1934 where he has headed the Taman Siswa ever since. He had been in Sukarno's P N I and Hatta's PNI-baru while in Java, but in Sumatra joined the local executive of PARINDRA when it was formed in 1935. He was a member of the Medan gemeenteraad in 1938-42. 84. Address by Sugondo Kartoprodjo to second conference of Taman Siswa East Sumatra, as quoted in Penjedar, 25 September 1941. 85. Politiek Verslag SOK, July 1939, pp. 8-10, Mailr. 1106 x /39. 86. Politiek Verslag SOK, 1933, p. 1, Mailr. 816 x /34. 87. Penjedar, 16 and 23 January 1941, pp. 43 and 77-8 respectively. Mahmud Junus, Sedjarah Pendidikan Islam di Indonesia (Jakarta, 1960), pp. 169-71. Interviews H. Arsjad Thalif Lubis and Tgk. Jafizham. 88. 'Memperkokoh Solidariteit dalam kalangan agama', in Pewarta Deli hari raya number, 16 December 1936. 89. Pandji Islam, 5 February 1940 and 22 September 1941, shows the membership of the missionary headquarters to be almost identical with that of the I.S.I. On the latter, see also IPO, 25 February 1939, p. 140 and 3 May 1941, pp. 672-3; and Hamka, Kenang-kenangan hidup, pp. 118-19. For M r Hasan, see below, p. 144, n. 43.

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

81

90. Penjedar, 14 December 1939, pp. 1083-4 and 1090. 91. Abdul Firman gelar Maharadja Soangkoepon (1885-1946) was the son of a kuria (district) head in Sipirok, South Tapanuli, but had left home for East Sumatra in 1902 when passed over in the succession to his father. He studied in a teachers' college in Leiden (1910-14) and joined Pewarta Deli briefly on returning. In 1915 he joined government service, holding a variety of clerical posts in East Sumatra and Tapanuli, with periods in the Pematang Siantar and Tanjung Balai gemeenteraden. He was first elected to the Volksraad in 1927, and in 1931 joined its standing committee, the College ifyW van Gedelegeerdf. His brother Abdul Rasjid was the elected member for T a panuli from 1931, and like Soangkoepon a member of the Nationale Fractie. 92. Penjedar, 22 January 1939, pp. 61 and 64. 93. Mohammad Djoni (1900-64) was born in South Tapanuli, but began to make a political reputation in East Sumatra from about 1922 as a fiery orator, nicknamed banteng gemuk (the 'fat bull', in contrast to the 'little bull' Hamid Loebis). He was the dominant figure in the East Sumatran PARTINDO after Hamid Loebis was interned in 1934, although himself imprisoned in 1933 and 1935 for short periods. Interned in Digul in 1940, Djoni was in Java for the revolution, initially with the P K I . His flamboyant rejection of all negotiations with the Dutch led him to form a breakaway 'red P K I ' in 1947, and to convene a radical 'guerrilla congress' at Prambanan in September 1949. He returned to a quieter life in Medan after a period of arrest in 1950. 94. Mohammad Jacub Siregar (1912-60?) was the son of Sutan Martua Radja, a wealthy Mandailing businessman and publisher in East Sumatra. Although MULO-educated, Jacub was the 'black sheep' of the family, preferring politics to his father's business or any other 'respectable' calling. He joined PARTINDO in 1932, and frequently defended the underprivileged in legal cases (as a pokrol bambu) and in other ways. About 1936 he married a celebrated Eurasian beauty, Chadidjah, popular as a singer and later also as a political leader. Jacub appeared prone to depression, suffering several months' illness in 1939. According to Inoue Tetsuro (see below) he was impotent. 95. Mohammad Saleh Oemar, who often used the pen-name Surapati, was born in Pengkalan Brandan (Langkat) in 1909, the son of a kadhi. Outside politics his principal interest was writing, and journalism earned him his meagre income. He was one of the most energetic promoters of the theatre as a medium of social and political comment, particularly under the Japanese. Two of his many children were educated in Chinese schools, eventually in China. 96. In August 1938 the paid-up membership was Medan 84, Binjai 30, Arnhemia 61, Pematang Siantar 37. In January 1940 the Medan branch suspended 77 members for non-payment of dues, leaving 70 approved members. Politiek Verslagen SOK, August 1938 and January 1940, Mailr. 1004 x /38 and 463 x /40. Larger estimates of up to 2,000 members in East Sumatra, made by ex-GERiNDO informants, probably refer to the pool of sympathizers. 97. Politiek Verslag SOK, February 1938, pp. 3^1. 98. Details of police intervention are in the monthly Politiek Verslagen. In the first month, December 1938, police stopped two speakers in Binjai, two in Medan, one twice in Siantar, three in Pematang Tanah Jawa, while a public meeting in Binjai was dispersed. Pluvier, Overzicht, pp. I l l and

82

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE 143, calculated that nine closed meetings in the province were dispersed between September 1939 and February 1940, a much higher level of repression than elsewhere in the colony.

99. Politiek Verslagen SOK, September 1938, p. 9, and December 1938, p. 8, Mailr. 1080 x /38 and 222 x /39 respectively. 100. Politiek Verslagen SOK, June-August 1936. 101. Politiek Politioneele Overzicht 3 and 4 of 1941, Mailr. 26 x /41 and 40 x /41 in Londense Archief, Binnenlandse Zaken [Bi.Z.]. 102. Zahari speech of January 1939, in Soematera-Timoer 1940, p. 31.

no. 3, 15 January

103. Ibid., pp. 30-1. 104. Tjerdas, 26 April 1941, as cited in IPO, 10 May 1941, pp. 709-10. 105. Soematera-Timoer

3, pp. 29, 30, and 32.

106. Politiek Verslagen SOK, July 1938, p. 10; August 1938, pp. 20-1;October 1938, pp. 16-17; Mailr. 871 x /38, 1004 x /38, and 1217 x /38 respectively. Penjedar, 6 November 1938, p. 7. 107. Dr Tengku Mansur (1897-1955) was a younger son of Sultan Hoesin of Asahan, and thus an uncle of Sultan Saiboen. As a student at the Batavia medical school (STOVIA) he became the founding president (1917-19) of the student organization Jong Sumatra, which included many later nationalists. Dr Amir was the moving spirit of Jong Sumatra at this time, though the relations between the two men became strained in the 1930s. Tengku Mansur completed his medical studies at Leiden, specializing in surgery, and acquired a Dutch wife. He worked in Sulawesi and Batavia before returning to Medan, where he became well-known both as a surgeon and as a writer of medical handbooks in Malay/Indonesian. He was to become, in December 1947, wall negara (premier) of the Dutch-backed State of East Sumatra (NST). 108. Tjerdas, 26 April 1941, as cited in IPO, 10 May 1941, p. 710. 109. A. Aziz Jahja in Seruan Kita, 1 December 1939, p. 427. 110. MvO Deli-Serdang, Bouman, 1929, pp. 46-7; MvO Serdang, De Ridder, 1933, pp. 30-3; MvO Langkat, Coolhaas, 1933, pp. 11-13: Tropen. 111. MvO SOK, Ezerman, 1933, pp. 213-24, Mailr. 929 x /33. 112. The report is in Bouwes Bavinck to Governor-General, 9 October 1937, Mailr. 67 x /39. T h e following table, relating to tobacco land only, is derived from that report: Malay & Karo Claims on estates adult males group B (J930 census) group A

Deli 1 Serdang ! Langkat Total

28,413 18,516 46,929

(3,297 (1,596 3,051 7,944

3,399 1,365 3,090 7,854

Land required (bahu)* A X 4 B X 2 18,435 9,102 17,124 44,661

Land offered by estates 27,263 9,234 28,360 64,857

% of total estates 16.7% 18.7% 19.5%

.

THE ETHNIC WEB OF EAST SUMATRA

83

*The total in this column is slightly lower than expected because some land was regarded as fit for sawah and therefore only half the allocation was allowed. 113. For the 1872 'Batak war' in Sunggal see above, p. 4. Karos of the area frequently burned estate property in the period 1886-94, and a Datuk of Sunggal (Serbanyaman) was banished for his defiance as late as 1895. 114. Politiek Verslag SOK, 1st halfjaar 1936, p. 1, Mailr. 877 x /36. 115. Politiek Verslag SOK, May 1938, pp. 6, 9, and 16, Mailr. 668 x /38. T h e issue was discussed at length in the Volksraad College van Gedelegeerde by Soangkoepon (31 May-13 June 1938). For a summary of press comment see IPO, 16 April, 7 May, and 2 July 1938. 116. Politiek Verslag SOK, June 1938, pp. 3-7, Mailr. 766 x /38. T h e land question was still lively enough in December 1939 for a GERINDO branch to be established in Sunggal by forty farmers discontented about the allocation of land; Politiek Verslag SOK, December 1939, p. 3, Mailr. 239 x /40. 117. Politiek Verslag SOK, September 1938, pp. 15-16, Mailr. 1080 x /38. 118. Politick Verslag SOK, December 1938, p. 10, Mailr. 222 x /39. 119. Politiek Verslag SOK, October 1939, pp. 14-15, Mailr. 1489 x /39. 120. 'Rural unrest in Sumatra, 1942: A Japanese Report', edited by A. Reid and S. Shiraishi, Indonesia, 21 (April 1976), pp. 131-2. Confirmation from Dutch sources is difficult because intelligence reports on East Sumatra were not sent to Europe after the fall of Holland in 1940. It may be significant however that SETIA members established a tolong menolong (cooperative) society called Ripe Kematen in Rumah Mbacang in December 1938, when government repression was heaviest. Another such group was formed three months later in Ujung Labuhan, also a SETIA and aron stronghold. Politiek Verslagen SOK, December 1938, pp. 16-17, and March 1939, p. 23, Mailr. 222 x /39 and 544 x /39.

IV 1942: T H E HANDS D E C L A R E D

'The majority of the inhabitants had expected that under the [Japanese] military administration . . . the abolition of the sultan and raja systems would be immediately realised, and that they would be able to live in freedom.' 1 (JAPANESE POLICE REPORT, 1942)

T H E growing defensiveness and isolation of the Sumatran rulers, described in the previous chapter, had developed against the backdrop of a regime calmly confident of ruling for many more peaceful decades. The dramatic events of 1942 not only demolished this complacent facade at a stroke; they showed how little Sumatra had developed its own consensus on the way its society should be ordered. The contestants for power for the first time declared their hands openly as they greeted their new masters or liberators. The lightning Japanese advance upon Malaya had placed Penang in their hands on 19 December 1941. Japanese troops did not land in North Sumatra until 12 March 1942, a few days after the surrender of Java. T h e intervening three months formed a curious twilight when the Dutch governed as before, but Indonesians began to regard each other with a new caution. Penang had been a commercial, recreation, and communication centre for North Sumatra for a century and a half. Its radio now beamed Japanese propaganda towards Sumatra, often through the voice of former Sumatran nationalist leaders like Mohammad Samin. 2 The voyage across the straits to Penang was not difficult, even in a small Indonesian prahu. But who would make use of this opportunity to contact the future rulers? Was that the way to a safer place in the rising sun?

CONTACTING

THE

JAPANESE

Many of the missions which were sent to the Japanese in Penang appear to have resulted from private and local initiatives. In so far as there was organizational backing, it comes as no surprise that this was

1942:

THE HANDS DECLARED

85

from the anti-kerajaan forces—PUSA in Aceh and GERINDO in East Sumatra. Japan had a particularly good image in Aceh, which was hardly influenced by the 'anti-fascist' declarations of leading Indonesian nationalists like Hatta and Dr Sutjipto. Rumours of help from Japan had already been a factor in rekindling Acehnese resistance in the years following the 1905 Russo-Japanese war. According to the leading pro-Japanese ulama, Said Abu Bakar, a decision to throw off the Dutch yoke whenever the world war engulfed Indonesia had already been taken secretly during the April 1940 PUSA conference. 3 Shortly after that conference Abu Bakar had moved to Malaya as a religious teacher for the Acehnese emigrant community at Yen (Kedah). He attempted to contact the Japanese as soon as they occupied northern Malaya. Later, in February, several missions were sent to Penang in small boats by separate Acehnese groups acting independently. One, headed by two minor uleebalang from the Lhoksukon area, departed on 13 February and was saluted over Penang radio when it arrived on 4 March. Another left Idi on 20 February, comprising two prominent PUSA ulama from the Pidie area as well as Pemuda 4 PUSA envoys from Hoesain Almujahid. East Sumatran opposition groups were less advanced in their plans, although both the GERINDO leader Jacub Siregar and the handful of ex-Digul communists made similar attempts to send envoys to Penang. 5 T h e two politicians who had independently maintained secret contacts with the Japanese consulate in Medan—the former P K I leader Xarim M. S. and a by-passed Karo aristocrat, Raja Mulamanik—had both been arrested and sent to Java as soon as war was declared in the Pacific. On the Japanese side, the organization of fifth-column work was in the hands of the Fujiwara kikan, or F-kikan (F-organization). Its leader, Major Fujiwara Iwaichi, was a young officer with remarkably little prior knowledge of the region, high-school English being his only linguistic preparation. Nevertheless the genuine warmth with which he responded to the pro-Japanese nationalists he came to work with in Malaya, and his rapid conversion to their view that Japan had a special destiny to liberate the southern countries, have led some Japanese to compare him with Lawrence of Arabia. His F-kikan had been hastily put together in Tokyo in September 1941, with five recent graduates from the Nakano-gakko (military intelligence school), and a slightly larger number of area specialists with either language training or South-East Asian commercial experience. T h e small group assembled in Bangkok in October, and then joined the invasion of Malaya at Songkhla (South Thailand) the day after Pearl Harbor. Its primary task was to facilitate

86

•}H>'

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

the conquest of Malaya by mobilizing anti-British elements especially among Indian troops and the Malay nationalist Kesatuan Melayu Muda. After the fall of Singapore the F-kikan was to become pre-occupied with the problems of the Indian National Army which the Japanese organized in Malaya. 6 Political preparation for the subsequent task of the Japanese 25th Army, the conquest of northern Sumatra, was a very low priority for Fujiwara's group. Yet paradoxically it was only in northern Sumatra that the F-kikan as such was to become an important domestic factor. It seems unlikely that Fujiwara had even heard of Aceh before the Malayan campaign. He recollects the surprise of the Japanese at the enthusiasm and determination the Acehnese showed for co-operation with them. All the contacts took place at the initiative of Acehnese, who developed what the Japanese saw as a simple fifth-column operation for intelligence and perhaps sabotage, into a full-scale revolt. 7 As soon as Japanese troops rolled through southern Kedah, Said I Abu Bakar made his way on foot and by boat to Penang, searching for a Japanese who would listen to his plan for using PUSA to facilitate [_ the Japanese invasion of Aceh. He eventually caught up with Major Fujiwara in Taiping, and was instructed to recruit as many Sumatran members as possible for a fifth-column operation. On 14 January Abu Bakar's men reassembled in Kuala Lumpur. There were now five Acehnese in the party, plus a similar number from West Sumatra and a few from Inderagiri who appear to have contacted the F-kikan separately. An 'Indonesia House' was commandeered for them in Kuala Lumpur's plush Kenny Hill. At least the younger members of the group appear to have thought it all rather a lark, until some signs of Japanese military brutality made them wonder if they were heroic liberators or simply Japanese prisoners. 8 Fujiwara appears to have learned of the polarized situation in Aceh only through Said Abu Bakar's explanation at their 14 January meeting: . . . the people of Aceh were extremely hostile to the Dutch Government, and also to the uleebalang because they also oppress the people, even more than the Dutch. . .. The people of Aceh are very committed to Islam. They prefer to struggle under the Muslim banner, so that all organizations in Aceh are based on Islam. They are not afraid to die in the name of Islam. The largest Islamic organization in Aceh now is PUSA.9 The two men agreed that Abu Bakar's recruits should attempt to contact PUSA to ensure its close co-operation with the Japanese. T h e people so contacted would be identified by the ' F ' armband of the Fujiwara kikan, and their task would be to propagate goodwill for the Japanese, to protect bridges and vital installations from Dutch scorched-earth

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measures, and to provide the invading army with supplies and assistance. There was apparently no suggestion at this stage of an Acehnese revolt against the Dutch. Fujiwara was struck how the Acehnese, in complete contrast with the Indians who were his major headache, made no specific demands of the Japanese in return for their services. Certainly there was no discussion of independence either for Aceh or for Indonesia as a whole, since this was explicitly forbidden by Tokyo. In his memoirs Fujiwara admits only to an undertaking that the Japanese 'would respect the happiness and the religion of the Acehnese people'. 10 H e knew too little about PVSA-uleebalang rivalry to comment on it, but he did apparently add that the Japanese would not 'levy taxes exorbitantly like the^Dutch'. 1 1 A letter from Acehnese supporters of the F-kikan which fell into Dutch hands a few days before the Japanese landings was more sweeping: 'Freedom from taxation and herendienst had already been promised by the Japanese.' 12 It seems probable that the bland and vague assurances of Fujiwara were quickly translated by Acehnese activists into the language of their own demand for change.

REVOLT

IN

ACEH

Impatient to begin his mission, Said Abu Bakar sailed from Kuala Selangor two days later. The small motorboat which carried him and about six others landed a few days later near Tanjung Balai, Asahan. A second boatload landed near Bagan Siapiapi with a similar number of F-kikan infiltrators—mainly Acehnese, but also a few Minangkabaus, Bataks, and others. Both groups abandoned the arms they had been given, surrendered to the Dutch authorities, and were imprisoned in Medan. A third boatload of Acehnese sent by Masubuchi from Penang on 13 February was similarly imprisoned in Idi. All adhered so convincingly to their story of being 'refugees' from the fighting in Malaya that most of them were allowed to go home during February. The most important of them, Said Abu Bakar, was released in Aceh on 13 February, having already contacted PUSA colleagues from prison and invoked guarantees of his reliability from such prominent Acehnese officials as M r T . M. Hasan and Tuanku Mahmud. 1 3 Abu Bakar immediately went to Seulimeum, about twenty-five miles upriver from Kutaraja, where he had formerly been associated with the progressive Perguruan Islam, headed by Teungku Abdul Wahab. So enthusiastically was his project received that a full-scale revolt began in Seulimeum on 19 February with a growing wave of sabotage to telephone, telegraph, and railway lines. The culmination was reached on the night of 23 February, after an intense Muslim rally at the religious school. The local Dutch official (controleur), Tiggelman, was killed and

)w*-mMt~ A

9«
O

88

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

5,000 guilders seized from the post office. The following day the director of the Aceh railway, Graaf von Sperling, was killed when inspecting obstructions to the line nearby at the Keumiroe bridge. Also killed in the incident were three Acehnese wearing the new symbol of rebellion—a letter F on the arm. 14 The inspiration for this Seulimeum revolt derived from the two most famous ulama of the district—Teungku Abdul Wahab of Seulimeum, and Teungku H. A. Hasballah of Indrapuri. The support of the principal uleebalang of the region, the youthful Panglima Polim Muhammad Ali 15 was however equally crucial. He and several other uleebalang of Seulimeum went 'underground' after endorsing the rebellion on 23 February. Seulimeum was not one of the strongest PUSA centres. Of the three key leaders of the revolt only Abdul Wahab was strongly identified with the association. The reasons the revolt began here were quite different: the fact that it was Said Abu Bakar's base; the good relations between uleebalang and ulama; and the anti-Dutch tradition of both. Later developments on the west coast were to confirm that an overt rebellion tended to occur only in traditional centres of resistance where many uleebalang still shared the antipathy of the ulama to Dutch rule. When Dutch reinforcements re-established a tenuous control over Seulimeum and no Japanese troops appeared, there was a lull in acts of sabotage. The counter-measures of the Dutch military nevertheless steadily broadened the base of dissent. With the leaders of the Seulimeum revolt still hiding in the hills, the most influential remaining uleebalang and ulama in Aceh Besar met at Lubo' on 4 March, to ensure that future resistance was concerted. The meeting entrusted T . Njak Arif with choosing the moment for revolt and co-ordinating strategy throughout Atjeh. Two days later the announcement of rebellion was posted to government offices in Kutaraja and delivered to various sympathizers throughout Aceh. 16 March 7 appears to have been chosen as the time for revolt, and a systematic movement of sabotage and disruption began that night throughout Aceh Besar and the northern parts of Aceh's west coast.17 A frontal attack was mounted against the sub-district headquarters of Calang, on the west coast, on the night of 9 March. This was personally directed by the most forceful uleebalang of the district, Teuku Sabi, who had maintained good relations with PUSA since coming out strongly for a restoration of the sultanate in The collapsing Dutch regime was so confused about these moves that T. Njak Arif was able to meet the Governor openly as late as 8 March. He offered to take over full responsibility for administration in Aceh, and when Governor Paauw declined he too went underground

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to devote himself to the rebellion. Under nightly siege in Kutaraja itself, the Dutch decided their position in Aceh was untenable, and began to evacuate to the south and east on 10 March. In Pidie and the north coast, where the uleebalang continued to support the colonial status quo, the F movement was relatively quiet. The PUSA secretary, T . M. Amin, was arrested when the sabotage began on 7 March, having been identified as a source of the F flags being found in Pidie. Sab Cut, a militant Pemuda PUSA leader from Gigieng, led an attack on Sigli on the eve of the Japanese arrival (12 March), killing the Assistant-Resident and routing the handful of Dutch troops remaining in the town. 19 Along the west coast, the southward retreat of Dutch forces had to face constant attacks and obstruction, stimulated in part by the atrocities the demoralized soldiers themselves had committed in Lam No, Calang, and Tapaktuan. Hundreds of Acehnese died in these areas and in Aceh Besar. 20 T h e question who deserved the credit for inspiring this revolt, already raised by the different missions to the Japanese in Malaya, became an open one as soon as the new regime was established. Teuku Njak Arif and other uleebalang on the one hand, and the PUSA colleagues of Said Abu Bakar on the other, each claimed sole responsibility for the movement. 21 The PUSA claim is more convincing. Some sources even suggest that a plan of revolt was drawn up by the PUSA executive, though with considerable vagueness as to dates. 22 In view of the apparent passivity of the PUSA leader, Teungku Daud Beureu'eh,23 it is easier to envisage a pattern of separate initiatives by locally influential ulama, most of whom were associated with PUSA or its youth wing. If there was any central direction for the movement, it lay with Said Abu Bakar and the ulama of Seulimeum, not with the PUSA executive in Sigli.

THE F - K I K A N IN

CONTROL

A state of full-scale insurgency lasted for only four days in Aceh Besar, and less than that in most other areas. Japanese troops landed near Kutaraja and at Peureulak (East Aceh) on 12 March. They reached, the major towns within a day of the collapse of the Dutch regime to be greeted by enthusiastic crowds. Nevertheless the upheaval in Aceh presented the Japanese with a serious set of problems. Where other Indonesians were awestruck at the might of the new conquerors, the Acehnese had only 'strengthened their self-confidence in their [own] traditional bravery'. 24 The revolt had not only driven out the Dutch, but also created a panic among the non-Acehnese Indonesians in government service. The Japanese could not, as in East Sumatra, take over a functioning

POVOJ^SOAM, u\dbod(UA +

uuKw 90

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

bureaucracy. Still more important was the polarization in many areas between the uleebalang and their critics. Only in Aceh Besar was this no problem. T . Njak Arif and T . Panglima Polim had both joined the rebellion early enough to enjoy some moral authority over it, while the other leading uleebalang had been saved from having to make a choice when the Dutch military commander impetuously arrested them, finding nobody else to blame for the revolt. The Japanese therefore accepted the authority of a peace-keeping committee for Aceh Besar headed by T . Njak Arif, giving this aggressive nationalist an excellent position to influence later Japanese policy. 25 Elsewhere it was a difficult time for the uleebalang. The leading antiuleebalang elements, Pemuda PUSA members prominent among them, had donned the F armband of the Fujiwara kikan to claim their reward from the new rulers. From Malaya Major Fujiwara had deputed four of his staff to accompany the invasion of North Sumatra, and Aceh immediately demanded all their attention. Leader of the group was Masubuchi Sahei, 26 a fluent Indonesian speaker with a remarkable talent for winning people's confidence. His influence was decisive in the provisional civilian arrangements made by the Japanese army. Naturally he made quick contact with Said Abu Bakar and his other friends from the F-kikan in Malaya. Leaders of Barisan F in most localities dominated the peace-keeping committees (chian-iji-kai) which took the place of government during March and April. 27 Said Abu Bakar accompanied the first Japanese expedition down the west coast of Aceh on 21 March, and had a particularly direct influence on the composition of the provisional committees set up there. Revenge was taken on two pro-Dutch uleebalang of the Meulaboh region who had arrested envoys from the rebellious ulama in Seulimeum (one of whom was later shot by the Dutch). Both these uleebalang were denounced by the Barisan F and soon executed, along with some of their officials.28 . In many areas the rebellion had rejected uleebalang authority as surely as that of the Dutch, 'PUSA youths, encouraged by the ulama, refused to recognise the authority of the uleebalang. Marriages were sealed without reference to the official marriage registrars; land transactions took place illegally. The mukim and village heads were also pushed aside.' 29 This was the first taste for the uleebalang of what was in store for them if their antagonists came to power, and they did not forget it.

EAST SUMATRA

IN

DISARRAY

Although hope of change was hardly less widespread in East Sumatra, conditions were entirely different. From the Japanese perspective East

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Sumatran oil and estate produce were far more important t h a n a n y purely political objective. A smooth takeover of these resources was so vital that Dutch personnel were retained in technical positions for a year or more. As always, the pluralistic nature of East Sumatran society also hindered the emergence of a coherent reforming leadership, let alone the sort of popular consensus on which Said Abu Bakar could rely in Aceh. The envoys the GERINDO leader Jacub Siregar claimed to have sent to the Japanese in Malaya appear to have made little impression on Fujiwara. In turn the 'refugees' whom the F-kikan sent from the Selangor coast to prepare a fifth column in East Sumatra had no particular social or political base. Many of those who emerged as F-kikan activists during the Japanese takeover appear to have been Toba Batak youth with purely personal motivation. Jacub Siregar had attempted to collect weapons and prepare for an underground resistance movement, but he had no control over these elements. In the first few days which followed the unopposed entry of Japanese troops on 13 March the ' F ' armband was popularly considered a licence for looting rather than a symbol of resistance. Far from earning leverage with the Japanese, these activities brought the F-kikan into disrepute. When the Japanese cracked down fiercely on looting in Medan, exhibiting the heads of five executed Chinese on poles in the central market, some would-be F-kikan members were among those who suffered. It appeared the Kenpeitai felt a law unto itself and took no notice of the letter 'F'. . . . Most of those who were chosen to be 'F' members were wicked scoundrels with empty heads, who didn't know right from wrong. After they were arrested by the Japanese themselves, many of them were 'taught a lesson' to the point of never rising again.30 While GERINDO leaders were making underground preparations to aid the F-kikan, the more moderate politicians of PARINDRA had taken the initiative a few days before the Japanese arrival to form a Comite Indonesia in an attempt to present a united pergerakan front to the Japanese. Leaders of PARPINDO and Partai Islam Indonesia, as well as a number of Islamic leaders, joined Sugondo Kartoprodjo on this committee in Medan, while an energetic Karo branch was also formed under the ex-communist Nerus Ginting. Believing that the Japanese would implement at least a few of the liberation promises which had been beamed from Penang radio, Sugondo hoped to be able to negotiate for a new Indonesian-controlled administration. It was hardly a good beginning, however, when the procession he led to greet the conquerors on 13 March was dispersed by Japanese rifle fire.31 Sugondo failed to bring

GERINDO

into his committee. Jacub Siregar

92

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

showed Sugondo his collection of firearms, implying that GERINDO had a prior claim on Japanese support through the F-kikan. Action was required, as well as words, if the radical goals of GERINDO were to be achieved under Japanese auspices. Here PARINDRA parted company. Its scouts, Surya Wirawan, were instructed to patrol Medan to try to keep order during the changeover, but to have nothing to do with the F-kikan. In Karoland too relations between the F-kikan and Comite Indonesia became embittered. 32 T h e two approaches were equally futile. Masubuchi had entered Medan with the Konoe Division, and all the major pergerakan figures assembled in the Taman Siswa building to hear him on the morning of 14 March. Sugondo began an elaborate speech of thanks for freeing Indonesia, which Masubuchi interrupted to give his instructions. Everybody present should put on the ' F ' armband and get busy arresting Allied nationals, confiscating cars, and spreading goodwill for the new regime. Jacub Siregar and his GERINDO supporters carried out these instructions zealously, but the departure of Masubuchi for Aceh the following day left them with only the cynical Kenpeitai as Japanese contacts. Most moderate politicians at the meeting supported Sugondo's Comite Indonesia project. For a few weeks the committee appeared to offer leadership if only because nobody had a better way of getting through to the Japanese. Even the sultans began discussions with it for joint efforts to maintain order in the interim. Gradually however it became clear that the Japanese were interested neither in the committee nor in politicians in general, and the sultans made their own direct arrangements. 33 One of the reasons for the sultans to court Sugondo's group had been the threat to their position represented by Jacub Siregar and the F-kikan. When the Japanese entered Pengkalan Brandan they were met by an enthusiastic demonstration carrying such slogans as Hapuskan raja2 (demolish the rajas). In the Karo dusun where resistance to the kerajaan had been focused, land was seized and village officials overthrown in the name of the F-kikan.3i Yet even from the moderate politicians of Sugondo's committee there was little comfort for the rajas. When negotiations began, one of the politicians brusquely stated that 'he was prepared to co-operate with the rajas, just so long as they were prepared to surrender their powers to the people'. 35 In practice Japanese policy towards the sultans was little influenced by demands from either the pergerakan or the kerajaan. It was nevertheless of critical importance that the two sides were making opposed demands, and each feared the machinations of the other. Initial Japanese military conduct was sufficiently confused and high-handed to keep both fears and hopes alive.

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After Masubuchi's departure, a reliable channel of contact between Japanese and Indonesians was only established with the return to Medan of the last Japanese consul in the city, Hayasaki, from Dutch internment. He became mayor of Medan in about May 1942, and also an influential advisor to successive chokan (governors) of East Sumatra, Lt.-Col. Nakagawa and General Nakashima. Hayasaki immediately assembled his pre-war Indonesian contacts, Xarim M. S. and Raja Mulamanik, both themselves just out of Dutch internment, as well as such other leading citizens as Adinegoro, Mr Muhammed Jusuf, and Mr Luat Siregar. These men formed a sort of political advisory group, the first to which the Japanese appeared willing to listen. Their advice included drastic reduction of kerajaan powers. Hayasaki also organized a questionnaire for prominent Indonesians. To the question about the position of the kerajaan we know at least one Muslim leader replied that they should be abolished.36 The fate of the rulers must have seemed to many to be hanging in the balance. RETURN

OF THE

RAJAS

Whatever hopes had been raised by pro-Japanese propagandists, the plans for Greater East Asia included no concessions to any party in Indonesia. Sumatra and Malaya, jointly administered by the Japanese 25th Army, were regarded as 'the nuclear zone of the Empire's plans for the Southern area',37 by virtue of their economic resources and strategic location. This zone would remain an integral part of the Japanese empire, and thus vital functions were to be controlled with special care. 'All actions or statements which may encourage native independence movements should be carefully avoided'.38 In practice this meant that the national red and white flag which had been flying everywhere to greet the Japanese was quickly banned, Indonesians were congratulated on having become Japanese, and political parties were first disregarded and then banned.39 There was no room at all in the Tokyo blueprint for Indonesian nationalism in Sumatra. Towards the indigenous administration Japanese intentions were fundamentally conservative. Disruption of existing government structures was to be minimized, 'native officials' employed wherever possible, and 'radical changes' in the position of the sultans avoided. An instruction of July 194240 nevertheless made clear that any contractual or hereditary claims to sovereignty were unacceptable. The slogan for Malaya and Sumatra had to be that of the Meiji restoration—Hanseki hokan (all domains yield to one sovereignty). In Aceh the Japanese eliminated the problem by simply not accepting that the uleebalang were autonomous rulers. From the outset they were recognized purely

94

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

as officials, with the title used in Japan for the administrative head of a village—soncho. What the uleebalang lost in the constitutional niceties of the Dutch 'indirect rule' fiction, however, was more than compensated for by the greater dependence a new and initially ignorant regime had to place upon them. Policy towards the Malay sultans was still more cautious, partly because of the conservative inclination of chokan Nakashima, but mainly because they appeared analogous to the sultans in Malaya, for whom policies were developed in Singapore and Tokyo. Initially the objective was that the sultans be induced to surrender their sovereign prerogatives 'voluntarily' to the Emperor. High-level policy quickly shifted to their positive value in 'winning the hearts of the people'. Their incomes, titles, and religious authority should be maintained as before the war. 41 In the Sumatran context, where great change had been expected, this cautious policy was generally seen as a continuance of Dutch support for the kerajaan. The strong bid for change represented by the Barisan F in Aceh appeared to have been repudiated swiftly and completely. On 20 April the Barisan F was abolished, and the following day the new civil government of Aceh was provisionally inaugurated. The peacekeeping committees were disbanded and the uleebalang were gradually restored to power as soncho. T h e most politically experienced among them, in some cases also the most bitter rivals of PUSA, became guncho taking the place of Dutch controleurs in each sub-district (onderafdeling). Thus the nationalist Muhammadiah leader T . Cut Hasan became guncho in Bireuen where the influential T . Chik Peusangan was too openly pro-Dutch for the task. In Sigli the previous Muhammadiah consul and leader of the movement against the sultanate, T . M. Hasan (Glumpang Payung), became guncho. Masubuchi remained an influential patron for the F group in his various capacities as head of information, general affairs, and economic affairs, finding jobs in the bureaucracy for his key proteges. His influence on policy nevertheless declined with the steady influx of professional administrators, especially during the second half of 1942. Of the twenty guncho positions throughout Aceh, only the two most remote, in Southern Aceh, went to Barisan F activists—Marah Hoesin and Said Abu Bakar himself. Stung by the attacks of his enemies (see below) and the poor reward from his supposed Japanese friends, Abu Bakar reportedly tried to commit suicide in December. When discharged from the Kutaraja hospital he withdrew to Singapore to bring his complaints to Fujiwara. 42 Although, as we have seen, high-level Japanese policy had ensured that the uleebalang would be brought back as the basic administrative corps, PUSA bitterness was intensified by the harshness which accompanied

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the change. The PUSA leader who had taken control in Lhokseumawe was arrested by the Japanese in mid-April, with thirteen of his followers.43 As the uleebalang returned to positions of authority, all the major PUSA figures, including Daud Beureu'eh, T . M. Amin, Tgk. Abdul Wahab (Seulimeum), and Hoesain Almujahid, found themselves brusquely arrested by the Kenpeitai and in some cases tortured. Some Pemuda PUSA activists were killed. Although the PUSA leaders were soon released, they did not forgive the uleebalang whose vindictiveness they believed responsible. As one PUSA writer complained: . . . the majority of uleebalang felt that PUSA wanted to seize their rights and become ideebalang, opening the way to all sorts of evil and corruption. Thus began the anger and vengefulness in the hearts of some uleebalang. . . . [When] they obtained the opportunity of contacts with Japanese officials, they began to avenge their grievance against Said Abu Bakar and PUSA, with all kinds of slander and accusations.44 There is some evidence to support this PUSA belief that its troubles were attributable to certain uleebalang rather than to the Japanese directly. From the polarized Pidie area came precisely the sort of uleebalang attack which PUSA suspected. In a bitter letter to the new civilian Japanese administrators, T . M . Hasan (Glumpang Payung) denounced Said Abu Bakar for stealing government money and inciting antagonism towards the uleebalang. PUSA, he complained: . . . continued to meddle in political and administrative matters and went on with its strident propaganda against uleebalang authority. Everywhere, even where PUSA had no significant support under Dutch rule, its youth branches were rising like mushrooms from the ground. Little remained of its original programme, PUSA had been established as an organisation of ulama. . . . Its extension recently whereby in the sub-districts Sigli, Lammeulo and Meureudu alone (i.e. Pidie region) they already had thousands and thousands of members, whereas the number of ulama in this region could certainly not exceed a hundred, showed clearly the change in its purpose. This purpose . . . was none other than taking the government of Aceh into its own hands, using the Muslim religion as a weapon to force the Acehnese people to become members. A fanatic/religious movement like PUSA formed a danger for the Japanese administration too. . . . Was it not the responsibility of the government in the first place to protect the uneducated masses against the misleading propaganda, whose fanatical religious hatred . . . was directed against anyone of a different religion than Islam.45 The Japanese proved as susceptible as the Dutch to fears of Islamic fanaticism. Whether or not influenced by the above letter, they prevented PUSA from functioning during the occupation, while giving every encouragement to the 'non-political' Muhammadiah. T . M. Hasan

96

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

himself, by now the sworn enemy of PUSA, became one of the most influential Acehnese in the Japanese regime. THE ARON

MOVEMENT

In East Sumatra too there could be no further doubt that the old Indonesian hierarchies would be retained once civil administration was firmly established under Lt.-Gen. Nakashima about August 1942. The province in fact became notorious among Japanese for the leisurely Dutchcolonial ways of the administration—the siesta, Sumatran rather than Tokyo time, and a large number of Dutch officials and planters in advisory functions. The apparent uncertainty of the Japanese in the first four months about the constitutional position of the sultans nevertheless prolonged the anxiety in some Indonesian minds. Following the failure of the F-kikan in East Sumatra the strongest anti-kerajaan spokesman, Jacub Siregar, had sought other channels of influence—the Kenpeitai and Hayasaki's group of advisers. Beyond a limited contact with Japanese intelligence agents, there was still no sign that the Japanese were listening. It is possible that this impasse drove Siregar back to his potential mass base among the Karo of the dusun. The Japanese police believed he was connected with the aron movement there, whose roots they traced to F-kikan propaganda among the Karos along the lines: 'When the Japanese come, the native chiefs will be thrown out, and you can own whatever land you like.'46 Most of the evidence came from sources hostile to GERINDO, however, and the Japanese in charge of the investigation admitted that it was not conclusive.47 We know at least that there was a GERINDO stimulus to the predecessor of the aron. That movement developed, however, as a purely Karo phenomenon with land as its object and peasant solidarity as its weapon. The previous chapter described the land grievances which led the Karos of the dusun to form SETIA in 1938, and the apparent transition of this body into a secret society in 1941-2.48 When the Japanese became aware of the movement, in July 1942, its leaders were the former SETIA secretary and assistant secretary, Kitei Karo-Karo and Gumba Karo-Karo. It was known only as the aron (cultivation co-operative), and its essence appeared to be mutual solidarity in defiance of the official government hierarchy. Members were initiated by a ritual involving drinking the blood of a sacrificial chicken. Japanese reports49 are more concerned with the economic roots of the movement than the nativistic or chiliastic features a Dutch perception might have emphasized. That the time was also ripe for Parhudamdam revivals, however, was indicated by the foundation of the Golongan Siradjabatak Indonesia in June 1942, calling all Bataks back to the religion of their ancestors.50

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The aron undoubtedly achieved its greatest influence during the transition between two regimes. Japanese policy was to extend control only gradually into rural areas51 from the cities. No longer sure about support from above, the Malay establishment was thrown onto the defensive. The PST leadership tried to provide balance to the Fkikan and aron forces through its own secret paramilitary organization— Siap Sedia. A group of rural Malay Islamic students had already formed a Persatuan Anak Deli Islam (PADI), during the 1938 land crisis. They too moved into a defensive position against the threat to kerajaan authority.52 But these nascent forces were no substitute for the vanished certainties of colonialism. The aron spread rapidly through the dusun and into Karoland itself, with some estimates of membership as high as 15,000.53 The cause of its eventually coming to Japanese attention may have been as much the return of kerajaan confidence as its own rise in militance. The earliest violent incident reported to the Japanese occurred not in the dusun but in Karoland itself on 1 June. The aron there had a very specific focus in the Batu Karang area which had been irrigated before the war. First in Batu Karang itself, and then in the Mardingding village of the neighbouring urung of Tiga Nderket, the aron type of organization was used to take over the extensive holdings of sawah of a few wealthy village or urung heads. In Batu Karang the movement was encouraged by one of the leading F-kikan figures in Karoland, Koda Bangun, whose family felt it had the rightful claim to the office of raja urung. On 1 June the incumbent raja urung summoned police from Kabanjahe in fear of 300 aron members who were demanding that he surrender his land or step down. Fighting broke out, and a policeman and three villagers died before the crowd dispersed. In Mardingding the village head was hospitalized after trying to defend his land.54 In quick succession violence was reported from villages in the centre of real aron strength in the dusun—especially the Serbanyanam (Sunggal) urung of Deli. The pattern was to intimidate or kill those village headmen who had remained loyal to the Malay hierarchy of Serbanyanam and Deli, or had brought in police to prevent the illegal occupation of land. Between 3 and 25 June two village headmen were reported killed, and the wife and children of a third.55 The police of the Deli Sultanate retaliated on 18 June, executing fourteen aron members in the Pancur Batu region. This enraged the Karos, who surrounded the Pancur Batu police headquarters until dispersed two days later.56 In the ensuing weeks police control of the situation in the Deli dusun deteriorated further. The kerajaan hierarchy appeared unlikely to survive in the area unless the Japanese interfered in favour of the status quo. That it eventually did so was due in part to the skilful manipulation

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

of the situation by some well-placed Malays, notably Tengku Arifin Tobo, the senior Indonesian officer in the former Dutch Gewestelijk Recherche and now in the Japanese police department. After failing in an attempt to investigate an incident near Pancur Batu on 26 July, the police detained one Karo, evidently an aron leader, in the Pancur Batu police station. Aron members quickly began to mobilize, and marched about 500 strong towards the police station. It appears that the police, encouraged by Tengku Arifin, deliberately lured the aron into a trap by creating the impression that the police post was unsuspecting and virtually unprotected, while secretly reinforcing it. A pitched battle developed that same night, in the midst of which the Kenpeitai was called upon to intervene. T h e aron party was routed, with twenty-one killed according to the official Japanese count, and 'hundreds' by other estimates. 57 The Malay establishment had not only struck a heavy blow against the aron; it had manoeuvred the Japanese into taking its part against its rivals. The Japanese chokan concluded that the aron was 'the cancer of north Sumatra', and ordered his police chief, Lt. Inoue Tetsuro, to investigate and destroy it. 58 The leaders of the aron were quickly rounded up and many were executed, although positive measures were also taken to meet the Karo demands for land. The last violent spasms of the aron occurred in September and October, with three more village headmen being killed in separate incidents. Inoue finished it off by personally beheading its leaders in a melodramatic public ritual. 59 The repression did not stop with the aron itself. The affair provided an opportunity for Tengku Arifin to direct Japanese suspicion against the GERINDO leaders who had been his own antagonists in Dutch days 60 and the principal threat to the kerajaan since. By implicating Jacub Siregar and Saleh Oemar in the aron movement he reversed the advantage of their anti-Dutch credentials. T h e Japanese arrested and tortured both these GERINDO leaders. Inoue eventually found other uses for them, as police informers and then as leaders of a contingency guerrilla force, but they were never again able to capture the central, public role to which their pre-war record appeared to entitle them. The enmity between the GURiNDOJF-kikanlaron element on the one hand and the kerajaan on the other was now firmly established. The Japanese regime itself could not avoid being involved in it. Chokan Nakashima 61 and other senior Japanese officials cultivated good personal relations with the rajas and shared their revulsion towards the unruly populist elements who had shown their colours in the aron. On the other hand the police authorities who had suppressed the aron and arrested the GERINDO leaders came to sympathize with their view of things, as indicated by one police report:

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. . . the military administration has utilized the former Netherlands Indies officials and the sultan and raja systems in the general administration as a tentative policy. This has widened the cleavage between popular expectations and the realities of the military administration. Moreover the officials, sultans, and rajas who participated in the administration abused their authority and power contrary to people's expectations, either to show the Japanese army their loyalty or merely in continuance of their old habits. . . . T h e inhabitants have come to be extremely alienated from the government and antagonistic towards it. 62 T h e same report went on to d e m a n d t h a t the rulers 'be placed u n d e r t h e strict supervision of Japanese officials'. 63 A l t h o u g h such views never became Japanese official policy, they continued to receive a m e a s u r e of patronage from some elements of the loosely co-ordinated Japanese regime. T h e e n d of 1942, in East S u m a t r a as in Aceh, saw t h e kerajaan est a b l i s h m e n t comfortably in authority, a n d its o p p o n e n t s licking their w o u n d s instead of riding t h e rising s u n into power. But t h e bitterness with w h i c h each side r e m e m b e r e d this contest for Japanese favour in 1942 would ultimately b r i n g destruction u p o n b o t h .

1. 'Rural unrest in Sumatra, 1942: A lapanese report', ed. A. Reid and S. Shiraishi, Indonesia 21, p. 124. 2. Mohammad Samin (bin) Taib had been the leading Sarekat Islam spokesman in North Sumatra (see above) as well as a frequent contributor to Benih Merdeka and other papers. After the Dutch crack-down of 1921 he was more active as a pokrol bambu than in politics. He moved to Penang in the late 1930s, founded the influential journals Sahabat and Suara Malaysia (both 1939) and inspired a progressive Young Muslim Union among Englisheducated Malays. He formed another group, Persatuan Indonesia Merdeka, to welcome the Japanese, although quickly becoming disenchanted with them. Later in 1942 Samin Taib returned to Medan on the same boat as Tan Malaka. He became associated with the uleebalang of Lhokseumawe who had been his S.I. colleagues, apparently trying to replicate there the deft use of the Japanese by Xarim M. S. and Nathar for nationalist purposes. He was however killed at the same time as these uleebalang colleagues in 1946 (interviews). 3. Interview Said Abu Bakar. M. Joenoes Djamil, Riwajat barisan 'F' (Fudjiwara Kikan) di Atjeh (Kutaraja, 1943, reissued in stencil 1975), p. 69. 4. There is considerable difficulty reconciling the names of envoys to Penang mentioned in Indonesian, Japanese, and Dutch accounts. The two missions described here are clearly documented in Joenoes Djamil, pp. 6-8 and 41-2; Fujiwara Iwaichi, F-kikan (Tokyo, Hara Shobo, 1966), p. 273; and A. J. Piekaar, Atjeh en de oorlog met Japan, p. 143. Less reliable accounts assert that as many as fifty envoys were sent {Asia Raya [Jakarta], 19 October 2602 [1942]), and enough of them mention a mission from the uleebalang cut of Jeunieb (Samalanga) to make this probable.

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During the Japanese occupation newspapers used the Japanese calendar, in which 1942 was 2602. 5. For Jacub Siregar see Inoue, BapaDjanggut, p. 77. Nip Xarim, son of Xarim M . S., sailed to Penang at the urging of his uncle Nathar Zainuddin as 'interpreter' for a (second?) Pemuda PUSA mission from Idi. In an interview, however, he recalled that Samin Taib had dissuaded him from too close an identification with the Japanese. Nip and Nordin Sufi of Pemuda PUSA persuaded the Japanese to let them return home separately rather than with the invasion forces like the two earliest Acehnese missions. 6. K. K. Ghosh, The Indian National Army: Second Front of the Indian Independence Movement (Meerut, Meenakshi Prakashan, 1969), pp. 17-36. Joyce C. Lebra, Jungle Alliance: Japan and the Indian National Army (Singapore, Donald Moore, 1971), pp. 1—42. Fujiwara, F-kikan, passim. 7. Fujiwara, F-kikan, p. 149. Interview Fujiwara, August 1973. 8. Abdullah Hussain, Terjebak (Kuala Lumpur, Pustaka Antara, 1965), pp. 27-41. Also Fujiwara, pp. 149-51; Joenoes Djamil, pp. 8-10, and 14-19; Nakamiya Goro, 'Sumatora Muketsu Senryo no Kageni' [Behind the bloodless occupation of Sumatra] in Syukan Yomiuri, Nihon no himitsu sen (Tokyo, 1956), pp. 93-6. 9. Joenoes Djamil, p. 17. Fujiwara, F-kikan, pp. 200-1, follows the language here so closely that he must have the same source. 10. Fujiwara, F-kikan, pp. 201-2; cf. Joenoes Djamil, p. 19. F-kikan, p. 150, quotes Said Abu Bakar expressing only the most general expectations from the Japanese: 'Our aim is to escape Dutch rule, for the liberation of the nation and the freedom of all Muslims.' Abdullah Hussain, pp. 44-6, records a speech by Fujiwara in which the subordinate role of the F-kikan was made even more explicit. The group of Sumatrans were to be a fifth column, whose role was to enable 'a country to be conquered easily'. 11. Interview Fujiwara, August 1973. 12. Piekaar, p . 145. 13. Abdullah Hussain, pp. 47-85. Fujiwara, .F-foTjan, pp. 275-6. Joenoes Djamil, pp. 10-11, 19-20, and 42. 14. Piekaar, pp. 63-7. T . M. A. Panglima Polim, Memoir (Tjatatan) stencilled, 1972), pp. 3-5.

(Kutaraja,

15. Panglima Polim was the title of the Panglima Sagi of the X X I I Mukim, the largest of the three Sagi (or federations oiuleebalang) in Aceh Besar. Since the seventeenth century the dynasty had been one of the most powerful in Aceh. Muhammad Ali's father had led resistance against the Dutch in the period 1898-1903, but then became a highly respected part of the Dutch administration. Muhammad Ali was about thirty-five at his father's death in 1941, and was only very reluctantly installed by the Dutch as successor because of his anti-Dutch reputation. 16. Joenoes Djamil, p. 43. Cf. Fujiwara, F-kikan, where the date of the meeting is given as 1 March. 17. Fujiwara, F-kikan, pp. 276-7. Piekaar, pp. 158-9. 18. Joenoes Djamil, pp. 52-5. Piekaar, pp. 94-104. See above, p. 30. 19. Joenoes Djamil, pp. 70-4. Piekaar, pp. 83-4.

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20. These events are carefully chronicled from the Dutch side in Piekaar, pp. 85-106, and 120-88, and from the Acehnese in Joenoes Djamil, pp. 50-68. T h e latter lists over 100 killed in Tapaktuan onderaf deling, while commemorative articles in Asia Raya, 19-X-2602 and Atjeh Sinbun, ll-xii-2604 estimated 150 Acehnese killed in the Calang area. 21. The PUSA view appears to have been first advanced in an article in Pewarta Deli (Medan), 7 May 2602, cited in Piekaar, pp. 176-8. An extreme uleebalang view, apparently conveyed to Parada Harahap, appeared in Asia Raya, 19 October 2602. In general, published Japanese sources give an exaggerated view of the PUSA role, probably because a common source for them is either Joenoes Djamil or a paper by Said Abu Bakar. 22. Piekaar, p. 177 citing the Pewarta Deli article (21 December); Fujiwara, pp. 274-5 and Joenoes Djamil, p. 69 (mid-December); and Nakamiya Goro, p. 67 (6 March). 23. In a 1969 interview, Daud Beureu'eh categorically denied that PUSA organized the 1942 revolt. He explained the envoys to Malaya as an insurance against the certainty that the Japanese would work through the uleebalang unless PUSA had good relations with them. Ismuha, in Sinar Darussalam, 15 (July 1969), p. 36, chronicles the history of PUSA without mentioning organization of the revolt, beyond the spontaneous participation of members of the youth group, Pemuda PUSA. 24. Southern Army document of 28 November 1942, cited in Shiraishi Saya, 'Aceh under the Japanese occupation—rival leaders in Aceh Besar and Pidie' (Unpublished M.A. thesis, International Christian University, Tokyo, 1975), p. 19. 25. Panglima Polim, pp. 7-8. Piekaar, pp. 73-6, and 124-6. 26. Masubuchi Sahei had spent about twenty years in the Malay world, some of them as a rubber planter in Siak. He had returned to Japan in 1938, and published a number of essays and a Malay-Japanese dictionary (1941). As the Sumatran specialist of the military administration in Aceh he came to wield great influence. His numerous Acehnese proteges referred to him affectionately as Bapak Aceh. 27. Fujiwara, F-kikan, pp. 277-80. Piekaar, pp. 128-30. Abdullah Hussain, Terjebak, pp. 99-104. Aoki Eigoro, Achie no Minzoku-undo, 1955, typescript translation by Mitsuo Nakamura, p . 3. 28. Joenoes Djamil, pp. 57-8. Piekaar, p. 161. 29. Piekaar, p. 190. 30. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan hidup, p. 184. Also Willem Brandt, De Gele Terreur (The Hague, Van Hoeve, 1946), p. 22. Tengku Luckman Sinar, 'The East Coast of Sumatra under the Japanese heel', Sumatra Research Bulletin I, pt. 2 (1972), p. 29. Pedoman Kota Besar Medan (Medan, 1956), pp. 24-5. Evidence of Frans Schlette in RvO I.C. 009384-5. T h e relative prominence of Tobas may be partly explained by 1) the number of young dislocated Toba men who temporarily migrated to Siantar and Medan before marriage; 2) the benefit to Toba businesses during the pre-war Chinese boycott of Japanese goods. 31. Abdullah Hussain, Terjebak, p. 89. Interviews. 32. Interviews.

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33. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan hidup, pp. 184-8. Abdullah Hussain, Terjebak, pp. 91-8. Inoue Tetsuro, Bapa Djanggut (Tokyo, Kodansha, 1953), pp. 59 and 77. 34. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan hidup, p. 197; and see above, pp. 97-8. 35. Ibid., p. 186. This may be the origin of Dr Amir's statement on 14 June 1946 (RvO I.C. 005966) that Sugondo and Dr Pirngadi tried to overthrow the sultans in May 1942 through the Comite Indonesian. 36. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan hidup, p. 197. Much of my information on Hayasaki comes from an interview in Tokyo in August 1972 with Sato Satio, a Medan-born Japanese who spoke fluent Indonesian, Dutch, and English, and worked for Hayasaki both in the pre-war consulate and the wartime Medan municipality. 37. 'Instructions on the administration of Malaya and Sumatra', April 1942, in H. J. Benda, J. K. Irikura, and K. Kishi (eds.), Japanese Military Administration in Indonesia: Selected Documents (New Haven, Yale University Southeast Asia Studies, 1965), p. 169. 38. 'Principles governing the military administration of Sumatra', 27 April 1942, in ibid., p . 172. 39. Asia Raya, 10-vi-2602 reported that Indonesian political organizations in Medan 'voluntarily' disbanded at a rally attended by over 2,000 people on 7 June. The meeting was 'reminded that the members of those political organizations have helped Japan to defeat the Dutch army'. 40. 'Items concerning the heads of autonomous areas', July 1942, in Benda, Irikura, and Kishi, pp. 184-6. 41. Ibid., p. 190. Okuma Memorial Social Sciences Research Institute, Waseda University, Japanese Military Administration in Indonesia, trans. JPRS, no. 21,359 (Washington, U.S. Dept. of Commerce, 1968), pp. 150-2. Interview Professor Itagaki Yoichi, August 1973. 42. A suicide attempt was the Japanese explanation for Abu Bakar's admission to the Kutaraja hospital, though rumours were not wanting that he had been attacked by his enemies (Piekaar, p . 199). Remote South Aceh is still renowned for the potency of its magic, and mysterious deaths are frequently reported. For a fuller discussion of guncho appointments see Piekaar, pp. 194-5, and 339-43. 43. Piekaar, p. 139. Accusations against the PUSA leader, Hasan Sab, had been made by his Dutch predecessor as controleur! 44. Joenoes Djamil, pp. 83-4. Similar views are in Abdullah Arif, Tindjauan Sedjarah Pergerakan di Atjeh: Bingkisan kenang-kenangan Kongres Besar PUSA dan P. PUSA, 1950-1 (Kutaraja, 1950), p. 27; and Ismuha, in Sinar Darussalam 15 (July 1969), p . 37. 45. A copy of this letter was retained by the Dutch official whom the Japanese asked to translate it. I translate here from what appears to be a paraphrase in Piekaar, p. 198. 46. Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, p. 54. 47. Ibid., p. 59. 48. See above, pp. 70-73.

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49. Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, pp. 50-5. 'Rural unrest in Sumatra', pp. 130-2. 50. Paul Pederson, Batak Blood and Protestant Soul, pp. 43-4. 51. Benda, Irikura, and Kishi, pp. 172-3. 52. Tengku Luckman Sinar, 'Satu Tengah Malam jang Berdarah' (typescript) Interviews. 53. Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, p. 55. 54. 'Rural unrest in Sumatra', p. 125. Interviews. See above, pp. 57-8, for the roots of this conflict. 55. Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, p. 55. • 56. 'Rural unrest in Sumatra', p . 126. 57. Ibid., p. 130. Tengku Luckman Sinar, in Sumatra Research Bulletin, I, no. 2, pp. 33-4. 58. Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, pp. 52-3. 59. See A. Reid, 'The Japanese occupation and rival Indonesian elites: Northern Sumatra in 1942', JAS, XXXV, no. 1 (1975), pp. 58-61; and 'Rural unrest in Sumatra', for a fuller discussion. 60. Tengku Arifin Tobo, related to the Serdang royal family, as police wedana in the Gewestelijk Recherche had been the most senior of the officials authorized to interrupt or disband political meetings. In this capacity he had had some angry exchanges with pergerakan leaders, including M. H. Thamrin, who took him to court for stopping his Medan speech in December 1939. Pandji Islatn, 8 January and 26 February 1940, pp. 7692 and 7825 resp. Cf. IPO, 17 December 1938, p. 839. 61. Retired Lt.-General Nakashima had been a military attache in Paris before the war, as well as a senior instructor at the Imperial Military Academy. His knowledge of French proved a link with the crown prince of Deli, Tengku Otteman. 62. 'Rural unrest in Sumatra', p. 124. 63. Ibid., p. 128. According to the Sultan of Langkat, 'many Japanese had informed him that the people no longer wanted the rulers'; Hans Post, Politionele Actie (Medan, Pax, 1948), p. 122.

V THE JAPANESE EXPERIENCE

'Even if the independence of Indonesiafinallyfails in being upheld by diplomatic negotiations after the termination of the war ... even the enemy will not be able to deny the fundamental truth that independence inevitably follows the formative development of a people.' 1 (JAPANESE FOREIGN MINISTRY, 1944)

THE fate of Sumatra at Japanese hands was determined by high-level policy for the 'southern regions', which went through three major phases. Until the middle of 1943 Sumatra and Malaya were together regarded as 'the nuclear zone of the Empire's plans for the Southern Area' because of their strategic and economic importance, and were jointly administered by the 25th Japanese Army. A new stage was inaugurated with the shift of 25th Army Headquarters from Singapore to Bukittinggi (central Sumatra) in May 1943, its loss of administrative authority for Malaya, and General Tojo's policy speech the following month. Tojo's government rejected a policy of separate self-government for Java in favour of a much milder 'participation in government' for the whole of the East Indies—Sumatra and eastern Indonesia being more likely to face an Allied counter-attack. Finally the Koiso statement of September 1944 belatedly set the whole of Indonesia on a course towards the 'independence' which Burma and the Philippines had already enjoyed since 1943. ADMINISTRATIVE

CHANGE

In the first stage the separation of Sumatra from Java was a deliberate policy, based primarily on the importance to Japan of Sumatra's oil and rubber, and secondarily on an assumption that nationalism on the island was undeveloped. Even so grotesquely pro-Japanese an organization as the Three A movement in Java was forbidden by the 25th Army to operate in Sumatra. After May 1943 there was a greater tendency for Japanese policies in Sumatra to follow those in Java, yet contact between Indonesian organizations and individuals in the two

THE JAPANESE EXPERIENCE

3 Kerajaan of East Sumatra, and Administrative Divisions of 1942-1946

105

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

islands remained virtually impossible. Pre-war Indonesian organizations which were allowed to continue, of which the only important ones were the Islamic movements Muhammadiah and Wasliyah, were forced to operate independently at the Sumatra level. T o the bitter end Bukittinggi refused to allow any propagandists from Java to enter Sumatra. Even organization at the Sumatra level became difficult. A very high degree of administrative autonomy was assumed by the Japanese chokan of each shu (residency), and the Indonesian propaganda bodies they formed were all different in both name and character. Complete economic self-sufficiency was also progressively forced on each shu by the breakdown in shipping and other communications links after 1943. For three years the shu had to be the effective limit of Indonesian organizational horizons. It was a time of both danger and opportunity. The Japanese regime was more arbitrary, unpredictable, and ruthless than its predecessor, yet it was at the same time much more reliant on Indonesian co-operation and information than the Dutch had been for decades. Those Indonesian officials and politicians who successfully manipulated the new rulers had a real chance to affect the destiny of their people; those who went too far faced torture or execution. The basic administrative divisions of Netherlands India continued, with one exception. The former afdeling of Siak was transferred from East Sumatra to Riau shu. Pakanbaru, in Siak, became the capital of Riau, while the off-shore Riau-Lingga archipelago which had given the residency its name was made a direct Singapore responsibility. I n September 1942 when the military administration assumed its definitive shape there were only 244 Japanese administrators in Sumatra, 2 and they spread more thinly than the Dutch had done. Each of the ten Dutch Residents was replaced by a Japanese chokan, and Assistant-Residents by a Japanese bunshucho. Below this level most of the administration was onesiand.In In Aceh, as we have seen, each Dutch controleur was replaced by a prominent uleebalang bearing the Japanese title guncho—a purely administrative head of the gun (onderafdeling, or district). In East Sumatra the statelets already provided a higher level of authority. A number of Japanese fuku-bunshucho (deputy bunshucho) were appointed initially to replace controleurs, but except in the major centres like Kabanjahe and Tebing Tinggi they gave way to kerajaan administrators during 1943 and 1944. T h e term guncho was occasionally used, but more often fuku-bunshucho, wakil kerajaan (kerajaan representative) or kepala luhak (district head) in deference to their dual responsibility to the Japanese and the kerajaan.3 As explained in the previous chapter, the uleebalang were permitted to govern in the capacity of district officials (soncho), while the whole

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kerajaan apparatus in East Sumatra continued to operate. At the end of 1942, policy in Tokyo had moved so far in favour of the sultans as to urge that 'their prestige should be enhanced above their colonial experience'. 4 T h e following month the Japanese commander publicly reassured the sultans of Malaya and Sumatra about their position at a ceremony in Singapore, where East Sumatra was represented by the young and obliging Sultan of Asahan. While in the legal field Japanese policy was to standardize the courts throughout Sumatra into a three-tiered Japanese structure, the kerapatan (or adat courts) of the East Sumatran rajas retained their competence within the kerajaan. The powers of the sultans over the jurisdiction of Islam similarly continued throughout the war. In both these respects the East Sumatran rulers fared better than the uleebalangjsoncho in Aceh, who lost their control of the judiciary in early 1944 (see below). In other respects the East Sumatran rulers suffered a similar loss of autonomy to their colleagues in Aceh. Land was taken out of their jurisdiction after the aron affair. The police was also organized in a uniform manner throughout Sumatra, with local police resorts made responsible to their superiors within the police hierarchy, not to the local official or ruler as under the Dutch. Only at the level of the chokan were the police directly subordinate to administrative control. The occupation brought a vast increase in the independent authority not only of the political police (tokko-ka), which was almost exclusively Japanese run, but also of the mainly Indonesian hoan-ka, responsible for all routine police matters. Both the pre-war N . I . police and new Japanesetrained men, some of them in Aceh chosen from among younger F kikan activists, occupied positions of responsibility as police-chiefs at district level. In areas as polarized as Pidie, they were the first clear manifestation of a neutral 'professional' element, who could be called upon to adjudicate between the uleebalang and the PUSA group. 5 The matters which took most police time during the occupation, however, were 'arrests for smuggling goods between Aceh and East Sumatra, . . . complaints that Japanese had arrested or struck people, and finally studying political reports which were brought to the police station'. 6 More significant than these administrative changes was the active public style demanded by the new rulers. In all the public rituals, anniversaries, and celebrations with which the calendar abounded under the Japanese, representative sultans had to share the stage with politicians, singing the same tune in praise of the war. More startling still must have been the sight of the rajas and their relatives wielding a cangkul (hoe) to give a public example of farming or 'voluntary' roadbuilding, as was required of them increasingly as economic conditions deteriorated. The Japanese never sought to conceal the fact that it was

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they who ruled, and that the Indonesian elite who served them had to earn their keep. NEW

ROLES

FOR THE

PERGERAKAN

Although administrative functions remained firmly in the hands of the traditional aristocratic elite, the new order did have a specified area of operations for prominent politicians, even in the first and most conservative phase. In two of these areas, the press and urban administration, the pergerakan had found an outlet even under the Dutch. Under the Japanese military administration pergerakan domination of these areas was institutionalized through the loose (and often internally contradictory) bureaucratic structure which embraced every facet of occupation life. Throughout the occupied areas the most senior Japanese with pre-war experience in the area tended to be used as city mayors. We have seen how the pre-war consul in Medan, Hayasaki, became mayor of that city in mid-1942, and began to gather around him a number of Indonesian intellectuals and nationalists in an advisory capacity. Several of these were permanently employed by his mayoral office (sicho). His two principal deputies were Dutch-trained lawyers of very different personalities. Mr Mohammad Joesoef,7 who had continued the successful Medan law practice begun by Iwa Kusuma Sumantri and Sunarjo in the 1920s, was a highly professional, scholarly nationalist of about forty, an administrator and conciliator rather than a propagandist. Mr Luat Siregar, 8 like Joesoef a pre-war PARINDRA member, was five years younger, much less established as a lawyer, and showed an active interest in the cause of the land-hungry farmers of East Sumatra. The most influential figure in this Hayasaki circle, however, was the communist Xarim M. S., the most rousing orator in the region, who conducted the public relations of the city office until drawn into more important propaganda functions in mid-1943. Only one Indonesian-language newspaper was permitted in each shu, as an organ of the official Japanese propaganda service. The Medan newspaper (Sumatra Sinbun from November 1942; Kita-SumatoraSinbun [North Sumatra News] from August 1943) found a prestigious editor in another member of Hayasaki's circle, Adinegoro of the pre-war Pewarta Deli. The Atjeh Sinbun, established on a twice-weekly basis in June 1942, was the first really viable Indonesian newspaper ever to appear in Aceh, and gave an opportunity for a number of able young Acehnese writers to gain experience as journalists. Selected under Masubuchi's auspices, most of them were Islamic-educated and sympathetic to PUSA, like Ali Hasjmy (who assumed responsibility from the Japanese

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editors in April 1944), Amelz, and Abdullah Arif. Only a few of Medan's many journalists and journalist/politicians could find a place in the Sumatra Sinbun. Others were employed in the Sendenhan (propaganda service), like Mohammad Saidt (exPenjedar), and the GERINDO leader Saleh Oemar after release from his imprisonment for alleged involvement in the aron. T h e Sendenhan sponsored a varied range of propaganda and cultural activities, ranging from concerts and art exhibitions to anti-western lectures and dramas It was the Aceh Sendenhan which sponsored the most original work, providing unprecedented opportunities for public expression of Acehnese patriotism. Its drama group toured all the towns of Aceh as well as Medan with a repertoire of new plays by local authors. Two used the 1942 anti-Dutch uprising as their themes, and another related the story of Cut Nyak Dien, the heroine of the Aceh war. The new sense of pride in the Acehnese past was equally apparent in a competition in 1944 for the best historical novel about Aceh, and in Ismail Jakoeb's well-documented biography of the fighting ulama Chik di Tiro. 9 Although not designed to help the nationalists, the official ban which the Japanese placed on the Dutch language produced at a stroke an undreamed-of victory for the nationalist cause. Almost overnight Indonesian had to become the prime medium of instruction, government, commerce, and culture. Rather than accepting the terms defined by the language commission in Jakarta, the 25th Army characteristically established a separate Lembaga Bahasa Indonesia in Medan in early 1943. It immediately provided a test of strength between the Malay intellectuals of the pre-war P S T (Dr Tengku Mansur, M r Tengku Mahadi, Zahari) and such leading pergerakan writers and intellectuals as Adinegoro, Dr Amir, Dr Pirngadi, and Hamka. T h e former insisted that the language should be Malay, both in name and in the purity of its content, while the latter group, all originating in other areas, held out for the national language, Bahasa Indonesia. When the Malay spokesmen yielded to superior numbers and professional skills after a heated, two-hour debate, it marked a significant victory for the pergerakan position. 10 Direct access to the senior Japanese officials in each shu was the most important index of power, both actual and potential. The choice of Indonesian advisers to each chokan was therefore critical. In Aceh the regime confirmed the early pre-eminence of T . Njak Arif, a pergerakan figure in national terms but certainly a kerajaan one in Aceh. In December 1942 he was put in charge of a research office (chosa-kyoku) to investigate problems referred to him by the chokan, and in August 1943 his role as adviser to the chokan was officially confirmed. In late 1943 another leading uleebalang, T . Panglima Polim, was put in charge of

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

a new office like that of an ombudsman (koseikyoku), to receive and process petitions from the people. As adviser for Islamic affairs lino appointed Tuanku Abdul Azis in January 1943. 11 Like the Dutch before them, the Japanese found it convenient to use the prestigious but powerless sultanate dynasty in this way, preserving a tenuous neutrality between the real antagonists. The extreme complexity of social forces in East Sumatra appeared too much even for the Japanese. This was to be the only shu in Sumatra where no single leadership emerged during the occupation—there was no equivalent to T. Njak Arif. As koseikyoku Nakashima appointed the former Volksraad member Soangkoepon in late 1943, though he fell from grace at the beginning of 1945. He was replaced first by a kerajaan man, Tengku Hafas, and later by the Acehnese lawyer/official, Mr T . M. Hasan. The Muhammadiah leader Hamka was an early favourite with Nakashima, although his father was paradoxically a major thorn in the Japanese side in Java. 12 His role as Islamic adviser to the chokan was made official in November 1943. Yet he too appears to have overplayed his hand in seeking to get the better of the kerajaan, and was taken less seriously as an Islamic leader by the end of the occupation. 13 The Japanese system of courts provided further opportunities for men opposed to the kerajaan or at least independent of it, particularly when the lowest courts in Aceh were taken out of uleebalang hands at the beginning of 1944 (see below). Even in the early years when only the higher courts in the large towns were affected by Japanese reforms, new judicial responsibilities were conferred on a number of private lawyers, jaksa (government prosecutors), and schoolmasters. The placement of Tuanku Mahmud in the Kutaraja Chiho-Hoin (Dutch landraad) in November 1942 would later prove of considerable advantage t o PUSA.

Finally, some of the most desperate politicians resorted to a sinister and dangerous role as covert political informers for the Japanese. The element of truth in allegations of Japanese 'divide and rule' tactics in Indonesia 14 is that different elements of the very loosely co-ordinated Japanese regime cultivated different Indonesian groups, sometimes for mutually contradictory purposes. It was the radical politicians associated with the F-kikan whose position was most vulnerable once Japanese official commitment to the kerajaan became clear. They tended to be rescued from imprisonment by Japanese specialists in counter-espionage and political intelligence, who saw in them a useful source of information against the Indonesian establishment. Lt. Kondo Tsugio was one of four graduates of the famous Nakano intelligence school sent to Sumatra in January 1943 after a thorough

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briefing by Fujiwara in Singapore. Kondo, an Indonesian language specialist, immediately took over the political intelligence section (tokko-ka) of the East Sumatran police. He quickly had Jacub Siregar released from prison to provide information with a different bias from that which he was receiving from the former Dutch political intelligence official, Tengku Arifin Tobo. Kondo justified this alliance with the left in terms of the kind of foresight expected of Nakano-gakko graduates. The former officials were indispensable in administration, but they would return to serve the Dutch in the event of an Allied come-back. Kondo later maintained that Siregar accepted the invidious role of informer not under duress but because he found common ground with Kondo in the belief that the Japanese would eventually be forced to grant independence. 15 An index of the vulnerability of Siregar's position, however, is that the police chief who had arrested him in the wake of the aron affair, Lt. Inoue Tetsuro, had taken his celebrated Eurasian wife, 'the rose of Binjai', on to the clerical staff of the Medan police, and she conceived a son by him about the time of Siregar's release in February 1943. 16 Other radical politicians appear to have taken informer roles without Japanese pressure. Nathar Zainuddin had been in the pre-war P K I like his brother-in-law Xarim M. S., and shared the latter's exile in Boven Digul. Although an 'Islamic communist' very acceptable to Acehnese Muslims, Nathar was well to the left of Xarim, particularly in his readiness to resort to political violence. Whereas Xarim enjoyed the limelight, Nathar was never mentioned in the press after his release from Digul, preferring to stay in the background, working through others. He lived by petty trade, based primarily in Meulaboh (West Aceh) and Idi (East Aceh). In each place he established a strong influence over a group of young political activists, particularly Hoesain Almujahid's Pemuda PUSA group. Pro-Japanese Nathar was certainly not. He was nevertheless prepared to exploit a close relationship with the Kenpeitai both to direct its suspicion against what he regarded as the enemy (pro-Dutch aristocrats), and to make possible the extraordinary freedom with which he moved about. The bitterness of many PUSA leaders against the uleebalang provided the ideal climate for him to gain their confidence and encourage more radical political attitudes. Despite the Japanese pass he carried, he impressed his contacts as a sincere nationalist who insisted that the only hope for Indonesia was Indonesians themselves, never the foreign ruler. Some of the Pemuda PUSA activists of Hoesain Almujahid's Idi stronghold appeared also to be working for Japanese political intelligence, whether or not in connexion with Nathar. 17 The nature of the very loosely integrated Japanese regime made it always possible for the

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embittered element which was excluded from direct political power to pursue its goals through some other Japanese channel. ISLAMIC

POLICY,

1942-1943

Despite the reputation of Sumatra as in Indonesian terms a stronghold of commitment to Islam, the Japanese appear to have begun with no clear religious policy. The few Japanese Islamic 'experts' available were sent to Java, where an office of religious affairs was immediately established and steps taken for mobilizing Muslim leaders for propaganda purposes. In Sumatra by contrast early religious policy remained at the most elementary level: 'Native religious beliefs and customs shall be respected as much as possible, and interference shall be avoided.' 18 This striking distinction reflected the purely colonial and exploitative policy originally envisaged for Sumatra and Malaya, in contrast to a more sophisticated approach to popular forces in Java. The evidence of Islamic strength provided by the Acehnese uprising against the Dutch did nothing to change this attitude of passive neglect. Only when religious fervour was demonstrated at Japanese expense was it taken seriously. There was not long to wait. In November 1942 the Japanese were shocked to find themselves in bloody confrontation with just the kind of Acehnese Islamic leadership which had led a revolt in their favour scarcely six months earlier. Having apparently had no briefing about Muslim sensitivities, the Japanese soldiers who swarmed into Sumatra alienated rural Acehnese particularly quickly. 'They appeared to have no idea of courtesy, to be uncivilized, to bathe in the nude, to behave altogether like monkeys.' 19 Still more offensive was the early insistence on a bow of homage (keirei) in passing Japanese offices and barracks, enforced by an intolerable slap on the face. One young but traditionally-oriented ulama, Teungku Abdul Djalil, head of a locally famous religious school at Cot Plieng in Bayu (Lhokseumawe) reacted by preaching openly against the new rulers and the traitorous PUSA supporters who had invited them to Aceh. He reputedly coined the popular aphorism that the F-movement had 'driven out the dogs and brought in the pigs'. He equated the Japanese with Yajuj and Majuj (Gog and Magog), the demonic destroyers of Islamic eschatology, and revived among his students the sacred ideal of martyrdom embodied in the Hikayat Perang Sabil. From about August 1942, as Japanese interest in him gradually increased, he prepared to meet that martyrdom by isolating himself in a state of fasting and meditation (khalwat), and encouraging a state of religious excitement among his students through

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recitation (ratib). When T . M. Hasan (Glumpang Payung) came to warn him about the futility of resisting the inevitable Japanese measures against him, he is reported to have replied with the splendid disregard for death of Acehnese tradition: 'It is not resistance which is futile; it is the attack which is futile. The aggressors are not certain of martyrdom, but there is no doubt that those who resist die as martyrs.' 20 The Japanese attack finally came on 10 November, after the failure of numerous interventions, appeals, and ultimata. Three days later the mosque and school of Cot Plieng were reduced to ashes. Teungku Abdul Djalil and over 100 of his followers were massacred by Japanese mortar and machine-gun fire, though not before their rencong and spears had accounted for eighteen Japanese dead. Masubuchi quickly promulgated a broadsheet intended to discredit Abdul Djalil as an evil, dissolute madman, but in vain. Aceh had gained another martyr and hero; it could look these kafir rulers in the eye with the same confidence it had the Dutch. 2 1 The Bayu revolt forced the Japanese to take Islam seriously. Almost all the Acehnese they trusted were asked to report on the reasons for Abdul Djalil's stubbornness, while from Medan Nakashima sent Xarim M. S. and Hamka for the same purpose. A more active policy for making use of Islam was gradually developed. T h e revolt did nothing directly to help PUSA. Even if Abdul Djalil's hostility to PUSA could not be overlooked, the uleebalang were able to play upon Japanese fears of any political expression of militant Islam. The policy of chokan lino was to downgrade PUSA to merely one of several religious organizations. The first step, mentioned above, was the appointment of Tuanku Abdul Azis as a 'neutral' Islamic adviser. The second was the establishment in March 1943 of MAIBKATRA (Majlis Agama Islam untuk Bantuan Kemakmuran Asia Timur Raya) as a propaganda vehicle for ulama. Tuanku Abdul Azis was appointed chairman of the new body, with its remaining membership balanced between PUSA and Muhammadiah. PUSA was represented by Daud Beureu'eh as second vicechairman, Joenoes Djamil (a close collaborator of Said Abu Bakar) as secretary, and T . M. Amin as commissioner. Teungku Mohammad Hasbi, Muhammadiah Consul for Aceh since 1942, became first vicechairman and T . Djohan Meuraxa represented Muhammadiah as commissioner. The same careful parity was maintained at branch level, even though in practice Muhammadiah was restricted to the towns. The Japanese message was unmistakable, PUSA was to be regarded as the same sort of non-political religious organization as Muhammadiah. No special claim on the Japanese through its popularity or its role in the anti-Dutch uprising was to be recognized. The task of MAIBKATRA

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was clearly specified as explaining the sacred nature of the war against the West and the need to bear hardships cheerfully; and especially as advising the people 'not to interfere in government matters, and to direct them towards the kind of attitude prescribed by the Muhammedan religion, of a pure and upright heart'. 22 The culmination of this policy of using prominent ulama for propaganda purposes was the Islamic conference in Singapore on 5-6 April. Among all the delegations from Sumatra and Malaya the largest came from Aceh and West Sumatra, the areas most politically advanced in Japanese terms. Aceh was represented by the four top officials of MAIBKATRA. In East Sumatra the chokan evidently asked the sultans of Langkat, Serdang, and Deli each to select a delegate, who turned out to be Sjeich Abdullah Afifuddin, Tengku Jafizham, and (surprisingly) Hamka. The conference proved to be entirely stage-managed by the Sendenhan. Even the modest probe by Hasbi to add to the 'oath of loyalty' which closed the conference the words 'and we believe in the promise of Japan to aid the Muslim religion', was overruled as dangerous politics. As the first taste of the generous allowances and V.I.P. treatment with which the Japanese furnished their clients on such occasions, the conference was nevertheless not without its appeal. 23 Even the narrowly propaganda function envisaged for these ulama provided new opportunities for those of them with a charismatic touch. In the propaganda tours of Aceh by MAIBKATRA it was Daud Beureu'eh who drew the crowds, even if Hasbi did more of the administrative work. Similarly in East Sumatra it was Hamka rather than the kerajaan ulama who responded eagerly to the mass rallies which became a feature of Japanese public ritual. The first opportunity for such a rally was the anniversary of the Japanese invasion—one year of New Sumatra—on 13 March 1943. T. Njak Arif was the leading speaker in the Kutaraja rally, and Adinegoro and Hamka in Medan. Following the Singapore Islamic conference there were further opportunities to enjoy the limelight. The biggest rally ever staged in north Sumatra up to that time was the Rapat Besar Kaum Muslimin Sumatera Baru (Mass rally of the Muslims of New Sumatra) on the Medan city square on 20 June. For the first time the organizers had the means to provide special trains and buses to bring 60,000 people in from the countryside. Leading kerajaan ulama also spoke, but it was Hamka who responded most enthusiastically and became the star of the propaganda film the Japanese made about the rally. Overestimating his power, he publicly launched his campaign against kerajaan powers, warning the assembled rulers that they must embrace their people now that the old divide-and-rule tactics of the Dutch had gone for ever. 24

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In reality the greatest success for Hamka and Muhammadiah during the occupation was the shift of Al Jamiatul Wasliyah, and to a lesser extent the small Al-Ittihadiah organization, into alignment with them rather than the kerajaan. The power of the rajas had been sufficiently weakened by the change of regime for the pergerakan ulama to see a chance of moving Islamic administration out of their hands altogether. The Wasliyah leader, H. A. R. Sjihab, took the initiative after the Medan rally to unite the ulama of East Sumatra under reformist leadership. The analogy with PUSA in Aceh was borne out in his name for the new organization—Persatuan Ulama Sumatera Timur, or PUST. As the chokan s Islamic adviser Hamka was envisaged as its president. The attempt of these leaders to obtain endorsement from the sultans was a fiasco, however, succeeding only in showing the Japanese how divided East Sumatran Muslims really were. When the Medan Islamic rally was repeated in Tanjung Balai three months later the sultanate kept tight control, and used it to form a kerajaan-dom'mated Perikatan Ulama Luhak Asahan (Asahan district ulama bond) or PULA. On the initiative of the sultanate of Serdang a kerajaan Islamic grouping was organized for the whole shu—Persatuan Ulama2 Kerajaan Sumatera Timur—and the pergerakan plan was perforce reduced to a loose and unofficial grouping of the three Islamic associations. Hamka began to see that 'he had only been used for the purposes of Japanese propaganda', and that the Japanese would not force the more influential kerajaan to accept his leadership. 25 What had emerged from this initial jousting in 1943 was only a clearer demarcation between the rajas who administered Islamic affairs and the three modern movements for religious education.

MILITARY

MOBILIZATION

Early in 1943 the principal priority of the Japanese Southern armies became the defence of each area from the possibility of Allied counterattack, and other policies were increasingly subordinated to this end. The shift of the 25th Army Headquarters to Bukittinggi on 1 May 1943 was a recognition both of the probable key role Sumatra would play in any Allied counter-attack on Japanese territory, and of the necessity for military self-sufficiency on the part of each territory. In the defence of Sumatra Aceh was critical, as the likeliest initial target for Mountbatten's forces in India/Ceylon, and the key to the oil installations at Pengkalan Brandan and the eventual contest for Malaya and Singapore. Such Japanese expectations must have been confirmed by the increasing frequency of Allied aerial and naval bombardments of Aceh ports, beginning with attacks on Kutaraja and West Aceh in December 1942.

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The fighting core of the 25th Army, the Konoe-Daini division, was stationed along the Sumatran north coast between Kutaraja and Medan. How accurate these expectations were is revealed by the plans of the British war cabinet in August-September 1943. Churchill pushed very strongly for the code-named 'Operation Culverin' against the northern tip of Sumatra, as the most manageable and rewarding offensive possibility in South-East Asia. Once in control of the coastal strip, Churchill believed, ... we would constitute an immediate and sustained threat which the Japanese could hardly afford to ignore. They would not know where we were going. . . . We might go on to Malaya, we might reinforce northern Sumatra to cause the Japanese further annoyance, or if it paid us, we might even withdraw from it. 26 Churchill's central objective was not military but political, to demonstrate to the Americans 'that we take a real interest in the operations in the Pacific' . 27 The Chiefs of Staff agreed to plan an amphibious assault on Aceh in March 1944. The plan only slipped from the top of the list of British preferences when it was discovered that the island port of Sabang was untenable without controlling the adjacent Kutaraja area, while the ports of the north coast would be unusable after the monsoon began in May. 28 T h e Japanese could not know of 'Culverin', but guessed at its probability. Aceh therefore became the Sumatran province most burdened by the need for defence installations, airfields, and the support of a large occupation army. In addition, the Bayu rebellion had confirmed the impression of March 1942 that the Acehnese were the most proud and fearless of the peoples of Sumatra. Like the Karo Bataks of East Sumatra, however, their aggressive spirit could be of service to the Japanese 'if we guide them in the right direction by suitable propaganda'. 29 Throughout the occupation Aceh was therefore regarded by the Japanese as the primary area for Sumatran recruitment into military and semi-military roles. T h e first proposal of this sort, in November 1942, was to recruit the most politically active young Acehnese into a special force for service against the predominately Chinese guerrilla movement in Malaya. T h e sphere of this force was quickly redefined as Aceh itself, however, and in February 1943 training began for the Tokubetsu Keisatsutai or special police. This was a mobile armed force of military formation. Indonesian soldiers of the former Dutch army formed a small nucleus, but the majority were Japanese-trained Acehnese youths. As the first opportunity for Acehnese to obtain modern military training, the Tokubetsu Keisatsutai attracted many able young men. By the time of the Japanese

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surrender it comprised about 750 men spread along the whole Aceh coast for defence duties and counter-intelligence. Although some Indonesians held junior officer rank, the overall commander was an intense, tough-minded Japanese civilian, Kuroiwa.30 In May 1943 recruiting began throughout Sumatra for Heiho or serdadu pembantu (auxiliary soldiers). They too would receive military drill, but would simply be attached to Japanese units for menial tasks, guard duty, and labour. There were no educational requirements and pay scales began at a mere f.6 per month (35 for those living outside the barracks with their families). The first batch of recruits appear to have presented no great difficulty, with 169 being accepted from Asahan and 320 from Simalungun and the Tebing Tinggi area. In Aceh particularly, however, the second drive for Heiho in November, and all those that followed, were increasingly resented as an additional form of forced labour.31 Nevertheless in East Sumatra, where the Heiho were for long the only source of military training, Xarim M. S. threw himself enthusiastically behind them. As propaganda chief for the Medan municipality he led the recruitment drive in the city, and used it to argue the importance of Indonesians taking their destiny into their own hands. One of his young proteges, Abdul Razak Nasution, entered the Heiho at the first opportunity as a cadre for Xarim's nationalist purposes within it. Nasution rose to the highest rank open, equivalent to sergeant-major, and was to prove a source of strength to Xarim during the revolution. By the time of the second appeal for Heiho the Japanese need for military mobilization was beginning to take precedence over colonial considerations, and Xarim had a freer hand. With colleagues from the Medan municipality who were to become his allies in the PKI, Mr Luat Siregar and S. M. Tarigan, he toured the Medan market places to harangue the morning crowds. His truck was decorated with slogans like 'The honour of our nation and our fatherland can only be redeemed through our own blood.' Here was a forum for the language of pure nationalism: 'You youths, the hope of the nation, use this opportunity to show and prove to mother Indonesia that the spirit of self-respect, the spirit of uplifting the fatherland, still flames within you.'32 GIYUGUN The Japanese shift onto the defensive during 1943 rapidly brought greater concessions to Indonesian nationalism, in the military as well as administrative field. In June the Japanese were already developing a new defensive strategy for the Indonesian islands which would better allow the Japanese army to concentrate on the major battle fronts and

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its strategic role as the core defence of each island. The task of territorial defence of the extensive coastlines of the archipelago would be assumed by native forces inspired with national sentiments. For this a self-reliant force with its own officer corps would be essential. In order to win the war the Japanese were now ready to provide Indonesians with a potential weapon which the Dutch had never contemplated. The first cautious steps to recruit the Indonesian officers for this new army were taken by the Sumatra Gunseibu in Bukittinggi in late September, shortly after the dramatic launching of the Javanese Giyugun, which was to become known as the PETA. Implementation of the scheme in Sumatra was characteristically uneven, with West Sumatra beginning a very public recruiting drive during October, Aceh not far behind in November, and the other provinces including East Sumatra eventually following suit on a more modest scale. In Sumatra the new army was always known by its Japanese title Giyugun (volunteer soldiers). It was emphasized that pay, conditions, and regulations would be the same as for the Japanese army, with the possibility of rising to the rank of captain at f. 150 a month. T h e long samurai sword of the Japanese officer had replaced the Dutch briefcase as the pre-eminent badge of status in the new order, and there appeared to be no shortage of Giyugun applicants aspiring to wear it. The minimal educational standards were a simple primary education, but a high percentage did in fact have either Dutch or Japanese secondary training. The principal factor for selection, however, appeared to be a patron with some access to the Japanese, whether through pergerakan or kerajaan channels. D r Pirngadi, for example, successfully nominated for Giyugun training nine members of Surya Wirawan, the former PARINDRA scout group, before any public recruitment had started. In Aceh a majority of the first group selected for officer training were from prominent uleebalang families, and two others were F-kikan activists close to Said Abu Bakar and Masubuchi. 3 3 The Aceh Giyugun was the strongest in Sumatra, comprising more than twenty companies each about 250 men strong—5,000 to 6,000 men in all. East Sumatra had only six companies and about 1,500 men. Of the first eighteen Giyugun officers from North Sumatra commissioned in May 1944, fifteen were Acehnese. None had reached the promised rank of captain by the end of the war, but seven or eight Acehnese, and two East Sumatrans, held a rank equivalent to first lieutenant. 34 There was no attempt to develop a command structure above the company level—a source of many difficulties for the later Indonesian army. Their six-month training together did however give the Giyugun a strong esprit de corps which to a considerable extent overcame different social and regional backgrounds.

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A distinct section of the Giyugun for airfield defence, the Hikojo Kimutai, numbered only a few hundred men in northern Sumatra. Its handful of officers, commissioned in September 1944, nevertheless provided a significant source of military leadership during the later revolution, alongside the Giyugun proper and the Tokubetsu Keisatsutai.35 All Japanese training was directed rather at instilling a new spirit and discipline in young Indonesians than at academic teaching. The first general post-primary school to re-open in Medan under the Japanese had described its syllabus as follows: Besides general knowledge there will also be spiritual training embodying the spirit of Japan, correct behaviour, Eastern morality and the desire to work, which will teach the youth of Asia Raya to be ardent in helping build common prosperity.36 What this emphasis meant was made very clear to the terrified students from the beginning, as suggested by this opening speech from the headmaster of a leadership training school for Malaya/Sumatra in Singapore: You were not brought here to enjoy yourselves but to learn Japanese seisin (spirit), to learn discipline and hard work. If anyone doesn't like it I will kick them out. I don't want any English or American attitudes brought in here.... I know how lazy the Westerners are, and the laziness they have taught you for hundreds of years is going to be wiped out.37 The concessions to nationalism from 1943 did not alter this insistence that Indonesians imitate Japanese discipline, self-confidence, and sacrificial patriotism if they were to be worthy of a larger role in Greater East Asia. In Japanese military eyes the Giyugun were the heart of this spiritual remoulding, given the most intense exposure to the Japanization process. The remarkable fighting spirit it produced in these young soldiers, the core of the future Indonesian army, was by no means always in Japanese interests, however. The failure of many Japanese military personnel to accord Giyugun officers the equality of status they theoretically enjoyed with Japanese ranks was a constant irritant. Just as it was the Dutcheducated elite who had most resented European racial arrogance, it was often these Japanized youth who reacted most bitterly against the Japanese military. In November 1944 T . A. Hamid, younger brother of the uleebalang of Samalanga, led two of his platoons in an escape from the Giyugun barracks to the hills, until forced to surrender by the arrest of his relations. In July 1945 the Giyugun company near Pematang Siantar was led by Lt. Hopman Sitompoel into a rebellious attempt to barricade itself and resist a Japanese siege, after a series of clashes provoked by Japanese slapping of the Indonesian soldiers. That the leaders of these rebellions were imprisoned rather than executed appears to

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reflect the reluctant admiration the Japanese military had for these products of its own training.38 'PARTICIPATION' If the 25th Japanese Army administration in Sumatra had had its way, concessions to Indonesian nationalism might well have been limited to the military and quasi-military mobilization outlined above. The 25th Army consistently professed deep scepticism about the political maturity and sense of unity of Sumatrans. Like the Dutch before them, they dismissed the frequent demands of nationalists for progress towards self-government as unrepresentative. Only the pressure of the war, and of the Java command, dragged them reluctantly towards a few concessions. The first full reconsideration of the original assumptions behind the conquest came at an Imperial Council on 31 May 1943. The 16th Army and in particular the Navy liaison officer in Jakarta (Admiral Maeda) pressed hard for eventual independence for the East Indies as a whole, whereas the other commands saw no need for any political concessions. A compromise was sought which might increase support for the war throughout Indonesia without endangering full Japanese control over the resources considered vital. On 16 June Tojo announced publicly to the Diet that the people of the East Indies, beginning with Java, would be permitted to 'participate in government'. By closing the door for the meantime on independence this was a major setback to nationalists in Java. In Sumatra it could have represented real progress except that for four months nothing was done to implement it. In communicating Tojo's message to Aceh leaders Masubuchi typically warned that ' "native participation in state government" is in no way similar to "movement towards independence"'. 39 Only in the last two months of 1943 was there a short-lived period of hope and excitement for nationalists in Sumatra. The formal announcement on 8 November that 'political participation' would be implemented was one hopeful sign. Another was the establishment of the Giyugun discussed above. Most important in practice was the greater freedom for propagandists to orient their anti-Allied speeches in terms of Indonesian patriotism rather than loyalty to Japan. The cornerstone of 'political participation', advisory councils (shu sangi kai) in each shii, was patent window-dressing. The councils were to meet only twice a year to give advice on a list of questions submitted by the respective chokan. They had no legislative or other competence. Since the questions submitted all had to do with the best means to exact more rice, labour, and enthusiasm from the oppressed people, a dis-

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THE JAPANESE EXPERIENCE

illusioned member was probably correct in surmising an intention to direct popular hostility away from the Japanese and towards the Indonesian leaders.40 The councils did however underline one of the most important features of the Japanese period—the consolidation of the local elite group. Unlike the Dutch, who had ignored the Muslims and suppressed the nationalists, the Japanese united these two counter-elites with kerajaan leaders in a bond of vulnerable privilege. As members of the shu sangi kai they enjoyed not only publicity but a handsome allowance of f. 1,500 and various other privileges; yet as mediators between increasingly harsh Japanese demands and a resentful people they ran great risks. Some, like T. M. Hasan (see below), were executed by the Japanese; others fell victim eventually to the wrath of their own people. The composition of the councils reflected the nature of this leadership group being fashioned during the last two years of Japanese control. Since a large percentage of the members were selected from nominees advanced by local officials, the kerajaan domination was very marked. Pergerakan figures appeared in the list of Japanese appointees, and in the nominees of a small electoral college for Medan city. TABLE 7 COMPOSITION OF SHU SANGI KAI, 1943-1944 4 1

Appointed from Appointed nominees directly East Sumatra Kerajaan Pergerakan Islam Other

Total

3

6 2 2 5

16 4 2 8

Total Aceh Kerajaan Islam Other

15

15

30

13 4 3

4 3 3

17 7 6

Total

20

10

30

10 2

As chairman and vice-chairman of the Aceh council T. Njak Arif and T. M. Hasan (Glumpang Payung) were appointed, confirming the pre-eminence of these two able uleebalang since 1942. When Hasan fell victim to the Kenpeitai in August 1944 another prominent uleebalang was elected in his stead, in the person of the conciliatory T. Panglima Polim.

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In East Sumatra leadership continued to be uncertain. Initially appointed as chairman and vice-chairman were Soangkoepon and Tengku Musa of Asahan, the two members with Volksraad experience. Soangkoepon fell from grace with the Japanese early in 1945, however, when he was replaced as koseikyoku-cho by Tengku Hafas, 42 an independentminded kerajaan administrator. The March 1945 meeting of the council was permitted to elect a new chairman, and chose Dr T . Mansur, leader of the pre-war P S T . This transfer of Soangkoepon's functions to two of the ablest Malay aristocrats suggests a shift in favour of the kerajaan. Yet the Japanese appear also to have had reservations about these two men, either because of their insufficient pro-Japanese enthusiasm, or their inability to transcend the many divisions in East Sumatran society. Before the surrender Tengku Hafas was replaced by Mr T . M. Hasan, 43 an Acehnese lawyer employed since 1938 in various government offices in Medan. Dr Mansur retained a sort of formal pre-eminence, but never represented East Sumatra at higher levels. At the same time as the advisory councils were being established, the pergerakan in East Sumatra acquired a more useful weapon in BOMPA. Unlike Aceh's MAIBKATRA, which successfully diluted PUSA radicals with different points of view, BOMPA was established in November as a propaganda organ for politicians. As implied in its full title, Body to Support the Defence of Asia (Badan Oentoek Membantu Pertahanan Asia), the declared objectives of the organization were to arouse support for Japanese war aims, particularly in the recruitment and financial support of Giyugun and Heiho soldiers. As leader of BOMPA the Japanese again proposed the ageing Maharadja Soangkoepon, though quickly replacing him with Mr Mohd. Joesoef, who returned in November 1943 with a Sumatran delegation which had visited Japan. From the beginning, however, the heart of the organization was Xarim M. S., who proved remarkably adept at articulating his own intense nationalism in terms acceptable to Japan. The other prominent figures in BOMPA'S central leadership included Xarim's protege Mr Luat Siregar, the pre-war PARINDRA leader Dr Pirngadi, and the former GERINDO secretary Adnan Nur Lubis. At the end of the year this group began a propaganda tour of the major towns together with the two envoys back from Japan (Mr Joesoef and Zainoeddin) and a representative of youth, who was another Xarim protege, Abdul Razak Nasution. 44 In one sense the BOMPA propagandists were justified in hailing it as 'an organization of the people'. They did succeed in addressing large crowds directly, particularly in the larger towns, and making their names familiar to a wide audience. Xarim could convey the burden of his message, that 'a new life for our nation and our people now depends

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on us ourselves; depends upon our own efforts and exertions. I believe that the Indonesians of today have a spirit of courage, a spirit which is ready to die in order to live.' 45 Yet like the shu sangi kai and other Japanese bodies BOMPA also represented a very clearly defined elite, privileged in its access to information and travel, and in the distribution of scarce resources. It addressed the masses, but its members were only a few dozen key figures accepted as 'leaders' by the Japanese. The prominence of politicians in the central Medan BOMPA probably helped to narrow the gap between these men and the kerajaan, so frequent were the rallies and formalities when both sides had to sing the same tune. A similar situation obtained in Langkat, where the BOMPA branch included both kerajaan and pergerakan figures, with the wellknown writer and neuro-surgeon Dr Amir as its leading speaker. Because of his Dutch wife and very Western life-style Amir was particularly vulnerable to Japanese pressure. 46 He suffered an apoplexy late in 1942, and subsequently appeared to undergo one of the sudden reversals which marked his whole career. He developed close relations with the tokko-ka (political police), and placed his remarkable intellectual talents at the service of the Japanese concept of 'New Sumatra'. In some parts of East Sumatra, on the other hand, the formation of BOMPA only confirmed the hostilities which had come to the surface in 1942. In Asahan, in particular, the sultan's able and powerful uncle, Tengku Musa, controlled the local branch of BOMPA as he controlled most other activities, and excluded the politicians of GERINDO and the F-kikan. In Karoland it was the former P K I leader Nerus Ginting Suka who occupied the key role as recruiter and propagandist for Heiho and Giyugun within BOMPA. Nerus had been arrested by Karo Fkikan activists at the beginning of the Japanese occupation, perhaps because he supported the rival Comite Indonesia. Because of this incident and his subsequent use by the Japanese to help settle the aron crisis, Nerus was the most bitter enemy of this F-kikan element centred around the brothers Koda Bangun and Pajungbangun. This pattern helps to explain the particular enthusiasm with which the excluded and frustrated F-kikan elements in Asahan and Karoland supported the alternative opportunity for action provided by Inoue (see below). Unlike its Acehnese equivalent the PETA (Pertahanan Tanah Air— Defence of the Fatherland), which under T. Njak Arif's guidance was little more than a fund-raising arm of government, BOMPA did appear to pose a challenge to kerajaan dominance in East Sumatra. In the second half of 1944 Xarim was able to extend it beyond the main towns with the establishment of a large number of rural branches led by men sympathetic to him. The addition to the BOMPA central executive of the secretary of the Sultan of Deli, Mr T. Mahadi, and the appointment

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of district heads as patrons of the BOMPA branches, did little to stem this sense that the kerajaan was losing ground. In November 1944 the Japanese allowed Tengku Otteman, the Crown Prince of Deli,47 to launch a new unity body under kerajaan control, the Dai Toa Kensetsu Undo (Movement for the building of Greater East Asia). Its aim appears to have been similar to that of the Hokokai formed earlier in Java and a few months later in Aceh and West Sumatra, to absorb existing propaganda and religious bodies, as well as those for Chinese and Indians, into a front so broad that it was barely distinguishable from government itself. If so, the new movement was a failure. It slowly established its own structure heavily dominated by the kerajaan in each locality, but BOMPA was able to retain its separate, more vigorous, existence.48 Because it was generally seen as an instrument for the kerajaan rather than for unity, the new movement was counterproductive. ECONOMIC

PRESSURE

By early 1944 it was obvious that the Japanese understanding of 'participation' in Sumatra involved no major change in the internal Indonesian power balance. The policy of Nakashima in East Sumatra and lino in Aceh remained one of ruling through the traditional kerajaan elite, and using those pergerakan figures they trusted for purposes of propaganda and mobilization. The steady deterioration in the military situation of the Japanese and the economic demands they made on Sumatra gradually operated, however, in favour of more fundamental change. The original Japanese intention to make of Sumatra a source of raw materials and a market for Japanese industry broke down completely by mid-1943 because of the lack of shipping. All available Japanese shipping was requisitioned for purely military purposes. During the last year of Japanese rule not a single ship entered Belawan,49 formerly Sumatra's leading port. Manufactured goods steadily dried up, and for the bulk of the population it was simply impossible to obtain cloth during 1944 and 1945. Japanese economic policy had to undergo a complete revolution during 1943 in the direction of self-sufficiency—self-sufficiency not only for Sumatra as a whole but for each of its provinces, and even each bunshu. East Sumatra's vast plantation sector, the prize of the war, was now useless. Rubber-tapping ceased in June 1943, and the acreage devoted to tobacco dropped to a quarter. The estates had now to devote all their efforts to growing enough food to feed their labour force. To ensure food for the Japanese military itself and the city population, market forces were increasingly abandoned in favour of crude govern-

2A fimat, or amulet of invulnerability, belonging first to Teungku Chik Saman di Tiro, and then to another famous ulama leader of resistance in Aceh, Teungku di Cut Plieeng. It contains a caterpillar of stone, a bullet, and most importantly z.rante bui (boar chain), a magical stone said to have been carried in the mouth or nose of an invulnerable wild boar. The amulet was captured by the Dutch in 1904 and deposited in the Koloniaal Museum in Amsterdam.

2B Military vigilance. The bivouac or guardpost of the Dutch-officered marechaussie in Tangs6, during the 1930s.

3A The lavish house in traditional style of Teuku Oemar, uleebalang of Keumangan, in the 1920s.

3B Polarization in Aceh. A cartoon in Penjedar during 1939, showing isolated uleebalang as the obstacle to the people's demand for an Atjeh raad, or Council for Aceh.

4A Chinese contract labourer with his tobacco field and a drying shed in Deli. (KITL V)

4B The tobacco establishment. This was the experimental station of the Deli Planters Association (DPV) in Medan.

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5A Welcoming party for the Sultan of Deli on his return from a tour abroad, about 1900. (K1TL V)

5B Reception hall of the Sultan of Deli's Istana Maimun. (KITL V)

6A Dutch Pride. Teachers and students of the Senior High School (HBS) of Medan bicycle through Medan's main street (Kesawan) to celebrate the birth of Princess Irene in August 1939. (Penjedar)

6B Indonesian Pride. Leading Indonesian journalists of Medan entertain M. H. Thamrin (stocky figure, centre, holding newspaper), the leading nationalist in the Volksraad, during his visit to Medan in December 1939. Mohammad Said(t) is the tall figure in the front row, fifth from left. Adinegoro is on his left; Hamka immediately above these two. (PandjiIslam)

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8C A pre-war picture of Dr M. Amir, psychiatrist and writer,

9A Major Fujiwara Iwaichi, in his primary role as contact with the Indian Independence League. He is greeting N. Raghavan in Tokyo in April 1942. (Fujiwara Iwaichi)

9B Monument erected in 1943 to the three Acehnese killed at the Keumiroe bridge at the beginning of the anti-Dutch uprising—24 February 1942. (Atjeh Sinbun) 9C Bapak Sinbun)

Aceh— Masubuchi Sahei. (Atjeh

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12A Abdul Xarim M. S., leader of Sumatran communism. (PRIMA)

12B Saleh Oemar ('Surapati') of GERINDO and PNI. (PRIMA )

12C Dr Tengku Mansur, as Watt Negara of the State of East Sumatra. (KITL V)

13A Seated: Dr A. K. Gani (left) and Djamaluddin Adinegoro (right). Standing: PNI leaders Jacub Siregar (left) and Adnan Nur Lubis (right). (PRIMA) 13B Leaders of the mass march in support of independence on the main square of Medan, 9 October 1945. In the front row (left to right) are T. Z. Anwar, Ahmad Tahir, Sugondo Kartoprodjo (in shorts), Abdul Malik Munir, and Abdul Razak. (PRIMA)

14A British raid on a village near Medan, 15 May 1946. (IWM)

14B British preparing to occupy a school outside the British 'camp' in Medan, 7 June 1946. (IWM)

15A Sumatran Governor Mr T. M. Hasan (left), with Dr Ferdinand Lumban Tobing, Resident of Tapanuli, in Sibolga in 1946. (Depp en) 15B East Sumatran army leadership in December 1945. Standing left to right: Capt. Hopman Sitompoel, Capt. A. Tahir, 1st Lt. R. Soetjipto. Seated is Sjahrir's brother Mahruzar, financial organizer of the TKR. (PRIMA)

16A Amir Sjarifuddin, as Minister of Defence, leading the Republican government delegation to Sumatra in 1946. At left is an Allied Officer. (Depp en) 16B Vice-President Hatta (right), visiting Aceh in 1949, shares a meal with Daud Beureu'eh. (Deppen)

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ment control and requisition. The movement of foodstuffs from one bunshu to another was forbidden to the private sector. The government commanded sufficient stocks of grain in 1942-3 to distribute a ration in the towns, but thereafter was never able to meet the need. A growing army of smugglers, black marketeers, and corrupt officials provided a trickle of food for the hungry cities, but this was out of reach of the poorest. Townsfolk were badgered into growing tapioca and corn on every available plot of land. In September 1943 Nakashima began urging the non-essential population of Medan to return to the countryside. A system of registration and arbitrary arrest was begun a year later to force them out. 50 In contrast to East Sumatra, Aceh had been a major rice-surplus area before the war, sending 36,000 tons outside the residency in 1941. Japanese reliance on requisitioning rather than an adequate price nevertheless created acute shortages even here. 17,000 tons of rice and 3,000 tons of other foodstuffs were requisitioned from the 1943-4 harvest to feed officials and the growing military force concentrated in Aceh. The targets grew progressively higher—22,000 tons of rice for 1944-5 and 33,000 tons for 1945-6. Elaborate organizations were established right down to village level to collect quotas which represented between 10 and 15 per cent of the harvest. Yet the targets were never reached. In the first six months of the 1944-5 assessment it was admitted that less than 7,000 tons had been collected. T . Panglima Polim estimated in May 1944 that 65 per cent of the Aceh population was now short of rice, representing not only townspeople and fishermen, but also farmers who had already sold their rice or surrendered 50 per cent of it to their landlord. In the only comparable food crisis in Acehnese memory, in 1918-19, the needy were able to obtain credit and to buy from government at f.0.40 a bamboo. Now prices in the towns had soared from the normal f.0.15 to f.4.00 a bamboo, out of reach of any but the affluent.51 The major reason for the rice shortage was probably the evasion and passive resistance of rice-growers against requisitioning at nominal prices. The burden of other Japanese demands for land and especially labour certainly also reduced the rice crop substantially, however. Every gun was given quotas of new crops such as silk and cotton which had to be grown to meet the new demand for self-sufficiency. Rural labour was increasingly diverted into the feverish Japanese preparations to meet the expected Allied attack on the northern Aceh coast. Dozens of airfields were constructed, strategic roads built and fortifications prepared, while further manpower was absorbed in coast-watching. During 1944-5 the Japanese imposed a scale of forced labour on the Acehnese before which the hated herendienst of the Kompeuni paled

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into insignificance. Some of the military demands were 'stupid and insensitive', one Japanese civilian recalled, like the forced cutting of productive betelnut trees, ostensibly for use as stakes against Allied parachute drops, but in reality often left to rot in piles beside the road. 52 One index of the scale of this forced labour was a report that 7,000 workers a day had been requisitioned to build a road between Takengon and Blang Kejeren in the first six months of 1944. Many of them died in the process. The meetings of the shu sangi kai in 1944 were almost exclusively directed to ensuring that all able-bodied Acehnese were mobilized for this forced labour. All males between sixteen and forty-five were registered and enrolled in a work brigade, the Koa Hoko Dan, under the control of the hierarchy of district and village officials. Evading forced labour was made a crime punishable by twenty years' imprisonment. According to reports which later reached the Dutch, it was not uncommon for men in North Atjeh to have to spend fourteen days per month in such labour gangs. Admitting the effect all of this was having on the agricultural labour force, the Japanese called for greater use in the fields of women, the unemployed, and Chinese. 53 This level of ruthless exploitation could not fail to create a deep bitterness towards the Japanese among ordinary Indonesians both in towns and in the countryside. As far as Sumatra was concerned, the bitterness was probably most intense precisely in Aceh where the hopes of 1942 had been betrayed by the realities of wartime exploitation. It was the uleebalang administration which had to enforce these intolerable Japanese demands: 'They were between the frying pan and the fire. If they took pity on the people they were hit by the Japanese; if they carried out Japanese orders the people were oppressed. Their work was fraught with hatred.' 54 New tensions were placed on the standing of the uleebalang with their own people, but also on their relationship with the Japanese 'elder brother'. The outspoken T . M. Hasan (Glumpang Payung) was the most prominent uleebalang to fall victim to this dual pressure. As leader of the Sumatran delegation to Japan in October 1943, vice-chairman of the Aceh shu sangi kai, and guncho successively of Sigli and Kutaraja, his forceful style had clearly been appreciated by some Japanese. It was dangerous to go too far, however, particularly for someone with such determined enemies on the PUSA side. At the April 1944 meeting of the shu sangi kai, reported publicly as a passive acceptance of all Japanese proposals, he protested against the effect the heavy labour impositions would have on the rice harvest and voted against the key resolutions. Privately he told senior Japanese how much more adept Dutch officials and policies had been. He was arrested a few months later, released, and finally executed by the Kenpeitai in August 1944. 55 His death and

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that of a number of other uleebalang probably owed less to the 'proDutch' allegations their enemies made against them, than to the very exposed position in which they were placed. The growing demands of the war strengthened those elements in the Japanese regime looking for an alternative source of support. The ulama were fortunate that the propaganda role provided for them did not involve the same degree of conflict. The appeals of MAIBKATRA in the Atjeh Sinbun for enthusiastic compliance with all Japanese demands may have made nauseous reading for literate townspeople, but did not affect their standing with the peasantry. At rallies in Pidie to celebrate the birth (maulud) and ascension (mi'raj) of the Prophet, Daud Beureu'eh in particular still attracted rural people by the thousand. 56 Many rural ulama in Pidie continued to play their traditional role of supporting peasant resistance to government demands, leading to a number of clashes with the uleebalang.51 PUSA

ADVANCES,

1943-1944

In late 1943 a growing number of Japanese began to take the view that more reliance would have to be placed on the PVSA/F-kikan element if the Japanese were to obtain the support they needed even in the conditions of an Allied invasion. This view originated less from the original F-kikan patron Masubuchi, who remained very loyal to lino, than from the judiciary and military intelligence. The intelligence officer T . Adachi and the judicial official Aoki Eigoro both came to Aceh in 1943 from Singapore, where they had independently been in contact with Fujiwara. Each of these very independent-minded men established close contacts with the PUSA group during the year or more they were in Aceh, and attempted in their different ways to move policy in that direction. T h e renewed effort of Pemuda PUSA in late 1943 to establish a place in Japanese affections through voluntary contributions of money, rice, and labour, well-publicized in the Atjeh Sinbun, was probably related to the new hope they brought. 58 The PUSA lobby was lucky to find a patron in Major-General Iwakuro, head of general affairs at the Sumatra Gunseibu in Bukittinggi from mid-1943. As a former intelligence man himself Iwakuro had been close to Fujiwara in Singapore, and from him had heard Said Abu Bakar's story of the 1942 revolt. He supported Aoki Eigoro with money and influence in trying to make PUSA'S services to Japan in 1942 better known. Having already made contact with PUSA leaders through his principal legal colleague in Kutaraja, Tuanku Mahmud, Aoki commissioned a PUSA team headed by Teungku Joenoes Djamil to write a detailed report on the revolt throughout Aceh. Translated into Japanese

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and circulated among officials in Kutaraja and Bukittinggi, the report naturally made the most of PUSA'S role in the uprising, and mentioned the unpopularity of the uleebalang.59 Although the booklet records no explicit promises to Said Abu Bakar, Aoki himself accepted the view that the Japanese were in honour bound to reward PUSA at the expense of the uleebalang, quite apart from the policy advantages he saw in doing so. On 1 December 1943 a uniform legal structure was decreed for all Sumatra, following a meeting of Japanese legal officials from each shu. Aoki had taken to this meeting in Bukittinggi not only Joenoes Djamil's pamphlet and his own report on 'the Islamic problem', but a detailed plan, drawn up in consultation with PUSA leaders, to implement the new legal system in Aceh. In contrast to the pattern in East Sumatra, his plan abolished the former kerajaan courts, the musapat, and separated the new courts, both secular and Islamic, from the controlling influence the (uleebalang) executive had always had over them. Secular courts (hoin) would be established at the level of son (statelet), gun, and bunshu. The religious courts would as before be under the kadhi in each son and the teungku meunasah in each village, but a new shukyo hoin (religious court) in Kutaraja, comprised of prominent ulama, would oversee their operations and take over from the uleebalang the appointment of kadhi. Having obtained support for these changes in Bukittinggi, Aoki had them promulgated by lino on 1 January 1944. lino's uleebalang advisers had aquiesced on the assumption that the staffing of the new secular courts would as usual be left to the guncho-soncho hierarchy, who would therefore continue to control them. Instead Aoki went directly to his PUSA friends, asking them for names of the thousand people he needed to staff the courts throughout Aceh before they went into operation on 1 March. Aoki's three conditions were that those selected should have 'the confidence of the people; thorough knowledge of the adat; and the courage to resist uleebalang interference'. 00 T h e PUSA group enthusiastically complied, with the result that on 1 March the uleebalang found they had lost control of the judiciary by a fait accompli.61 The secular hoin immediately became a source of great tension. Aoki defended them to an obviously hostile shu sangi kai: Because the courts have just been organized and put into operation, it may be that they are not yet functioning satisfactorily. . . . We hear complaints that there are some members of the Ku-hbin and Chihb-hoin who are not competent to occupy these positions. But we have our own opinion.62 In the 1939 press campaign uleebalang control of the judicial process

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had been attacked as the major cause of uleebalang oppression in Pidie. The new courts were hailed in the same spirit: 'The establishment of these courts in Aceh is a promise that the cruel greed which used to run riot will disappear.' 63 Many uleebalang refused to help the establishment of the hoin in any way, but enthusiasm in Pidie was nevertheless so great that villagers themselves erected buildings and donated equipment to enable them to function. As the courts gained momentum, Aoki recorded, 'villagers no longer had to fear the uleebalang, who were deprived of their right of [land] disposal. People even became bold enough to try to recover land which had been unfairly confiscated by uleebalang.'6i Alarmed by this development, the more aggressive uleebalang assigned the new judges to forced labour and even employed their rakan (followers) to intimidate witnesses and prevent attendance at court. According to Aoki, hoin responded by organizing their own defence forces on the basis of F-kikan precedent, and thereby 'unifying the villagers against the uleebalang'.65 The strenuous protests of T . M. Hasan and other uleebalang to lino were too late to change the composition of the secular courts. They had more success in modifying the changes to religious justice which took effect more slowly. By the time the central Kutaraja Shukyo Hoin was inaugurated on 25 March the uleebalang had already won the vital concession that appointments of kadhi would continue to be made by the soncho, with the Shukyo Hoin having only to approve the appointments. Each side had advanced its own candidates for the Shukyo Hoin, and the carefully balanced compromise list of ten ulama had to be announced in order of age because of the continued bitterness about leadership. Said Abu Bakar, the bete noire of the uleebalang, had returned to Aceh to help Aoki's reforms, and he took the opportunity to counterattack at the inauguration ceremony: May the greatest curse be upon whoever has an evil interest in this body or wishes it ill.. . . We regard them as the principal enemies of religion, the nation and the fatherland, not to mention of ourselves. Those who wish it harm in practice fail to understand that this gift of the government is one of the rewards for the services of those who sacrificed to bring about change in Aceh, it has not come out of the blue like a lottery.66 The establishment of the religious court was a great symbolic victory for Acehnese Islam as a whole, unique in Indonesia, and was naturally saluted by propagandists as something which proved that the sacrifices of the 'holy war' in the Pacific were worthwhile. Yet the controversy within and around it made it far less useful a weapon than the secular courts. In practice its role was limited to approving kadhi wherever it could agree with the uleebalang concerned, which in Pidie turned out

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to be rather seldom. 67 lino at first tried to ensure it would not become a PUSA weapon by making the Muhammadiah leader Hasbi its chairman. This provoked a confrontation with Daud Beureu'eh, who made clear he would resign rather than work under Hasbi. Not until 17 July was lino able to announce a compromise chairman in the form of the aged and honoured Teungku Lam Jabat. The most important promoters of these controversial changes were all dismissed by lino, for whom the whole affair had been an unwelcome surprise. Aoki was sent back to Singapore in May 1944, movingly farewelled by PUSA leaders in Kutaraja and Sigli—'his name is written in gold in the pages of the history of the rise of New Aceh'. 68 Said Abu Bakar was dismissed from the Shukyo Hoin in the same July decree which appointed the chairman, leaving Daud Beureu'eh outnumbered by two Muhammadiah sympathizers in the working executive of the court. Abu Bakar's close friend Joenoes Djamil was replaced as secretary of MAIBKATRA in May by a young member of the sultan dynasty, Tuanku Hashim, who made a strong appeal 'to practise unity and put aside division'. 69 Despite these setbacks the PUSA element continued to grow in strength in relation to both the Japanese and the uleebalang. They now had something to show for their support of the Japanese- -a network of courts down to the level of the statelet which could provide a solid focus of support against the uleebalang. The more desperate grew the position of the Japanese, the more support they were obliged to seek from this popular and (by now) implacably anti-Dutch element. The second shu sangi kai in April 1944, for example, raised PUSA representation from 2 (out of 30) to 7 (out of 40). The conflict within Acehnese ranks had however grown so bitter that it now infected the Japanese regime itself, and there was no possibility that it would be resolved by such attempts to represent all sides.

TALAPETA Economic pressure on the farming population of East Sumatra was less acute, in part because the vast reserve of idle estate labour was the first to be mobilized for road and fortification building. Japanese officials appeared to find the kerajaan hierarchy an adequate means of acquiring the food and labour supplies they needed from the peasantry. The hopes of Hamka that they might allow an Islamic organization comparable to those in Aceh or Java were disappointed. Nakashima established a religious office (Shumuhan) in July 1944 as a way of mobilizing and supervising non-kerajaan religious leaders, while assuring the sultans that their rights in the religious field 'remain without any change as of old'. 70

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Because, unlike the religious bodies elsewhere in Indonesia, it had a balanced membership of two Muslims and two Christians, with a 'neutral' young Japanese official, Usugane, as head, it was useless as a weapon for ulama. 71 There was nevertheless the same desire in East Sumatra as in Aceh to ensure a firmer base of Japanese support in the countryside which would serve even in the more desperate military situation which lay ahead. The most significant effort in this direction was the highly original work of Lt. Inoue Tetsuro. We have encountered Inoue already as the police chief responsible for the suppression of the aron and the imprisonment of Jacub Siregar. An agriculture graduate drafted into the army, with experience in organizing farm communities in Brazil, Inoue was no ordinary Japanese administrator. He believed passionately in the spirit of dedication, sacrifice, and discipline the Japanese military had to offer Indonesia, and threw himself enthusiastically into all his various roles. Seeing him as a man 'of wide experience and an unusual ability and knowledge', 72 Nakashima put such trust in him that Indonesians came to believe there were no limits to his power. As well as police chief and secretary to Nakashima he was bunshucho of the key district of Deli-Serdang, until in May 1943 he decided to concentrate all his remarkable energies on a new school at Gunung Rintis, in the rural Karo dusun of Deli/ Serdang. He named it TALAPETA (Taman Latihan Pemuda Tani— Young Farmers' Training School). The concept had undoubtedly grown out of his recommendation for an agricultural training centre to help woo the Karos away from the aron, but it assumed the much wider aim of producing disciplined cadres instilled with Japanese military ideals, capable of dynamizing and directing the East Sumatran peasantry towards Japanese war aims. On 20 July the first 100 students, twenty-five from each of the East Sumatra bunshu, began their one-year training. They rose at five each morning; they toiled mercilessly on the land; their afternoons were devoted to military drill. For an occasion like the two-year anniversary of the Japanese landings they walked the 40 kilometers to Medan. Their oath was: i. 2. 3. 4.

We uphold the greatness of the peasant. We work to the utmost. We live with hope and purpose. We honour the sky, we give thanks to the earth, and we have compassion for all creatures. 5. We serve the country and become examples for it. 73 Inoue's determination appears to have been sorely tried by his young

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trainees, 'spoiled and lacking in moral training as a result of insidious Dutch guidance'. 74 After a year in his hands, however, they 'became very tough, not only physically but also mentally. We had no regard for physical pain.' 75 The TALAPETA experiment was considered promising enough to be imitated in September 1943 at the Naga Huta estate near Pematang Siantar. A similar mixture of practical and moral training was advertised for 100 youths there, though for only a three-month course. 76 At the first TALAPETA graduation ceremony in August 1944 the trainees were sent out 'like leaders in the very front line', whether to work as government agricultural officers or as examples in the village. Inoue was determined that his influence on them would continue: 'I your bapak [father] will always be at your side, like your shadow. When you encounter obstacles in the course of your duty, remember . . . the name of your bapak and your spirit will rise.' 77 A TALAPETA Dosokai was established to keep the graduates in touch with each other and with their bapak, and to see that they maintained the high ideals of discipline and determination they had learned. 78 Whatever its original intention, this disciplined cadre structure formed an ideal base for the secret preparations the Japanese made towards the end of the war for guerrilla resistance against the Allies. Inoue's intimate relationship with Jacub Siregar and his talented wife had ensured that even the earliest trainees included a large proportion of GERINDO sympathizers. Siregar provided a continuing link also with the counter-intelligence operations of the police and Kondo Tsugio. From the time of the second intake of trainees, in August 1944, the activity of TALAPETA became increasingly military and nationalistic. The first semi-military organization set up by Inoue and Jacub Siregar was the East Sumatra Kaijo Jikeidan (coastal self-defence corps) established among fishermen and coast-dwellers in mid-1944. Its purpose was to provide a military-style organization for reporting and countering the increasingly free movement of Allied warships around the Straits of Malacca. Since Indonesian fishing boats were sometimes attacked by these warships, fishermen responded eagerly to this new organization. At the beginning of 1945 Inoue was apparently commissioned to form another unit, this time aimed at countering pro-Allied activity— particularly the Sumatran contacts being made by Malayan Chinese guerrillas in preparation for eventual Allied landings. This provided another sphere of activity for alienated ex-GERiNDO politicians, although driving them ever more firmly into an anti-establishment role, eager to find any evidence of pro-Allied activity on the part of the kerajaan elite. Despite the success claimed by this anti-intelligence group it was soon suppressed by the Kenpeitai on whose territory it was trespassing. 79

f/-

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At this point, however, the Sumatra military command was engaged in desperate rethinking of its defensive position, having been obliged to send much of its strength to the immediate war theatre in the Philippines. Japanese strength in Sumatra was steadily reduced, until in May 1945 it rested on the Konoe-Daini division concentrated in northern Sumatra, and one additional brigade in central and south Sumatra. T h e Giyugun increasingly had to be considered as part of the central strategic reserve, destined to defend strategic centres and mountain strongholds in the event of Allied invasion. New Indonesian forces needed to be raised on a guerrilla basis, both to watch against Allied infiltration and to mobilize the population against the incoming Allied administration. They would have to be trained very quickly, but secretly, so as not to betray a lack of confidence in Japanese strength. Above all they had to be uncompromising in their resistance to the Allies. The obvious candidates for such forces were the radical elements which had already acted against the Dutch regime in 1942—PUSA and GERINDO. Perhaps because it was not well endowed with Giyugun, East Sumatra was a leader in developing such a guerrilla force. Nakashima gave the task to Inoue in March 1945, undoubtedly with the knowledge that he would use his GERINDO contacts as well as TALAPETA as a basis. Inoue acted quickly to inaugurate, at a secret ceremony on 20 March 1945, what he called the Kenkokutaishintai (unit dedicated to upbuilding the country). It was organized on military lines, with Inoue himself as commander, Jacub Siregar Deputy Commander, Saleh Oemar chiefof-staff, and other prominent GERINDO figures such as Abdullah Jusuf, his brother Mohammad Kasim, and Nulung Sirait as staff officers. The whole pre-war GERINDO structure now provided a network for selecting leaders or potential leaders in rural areas throughout East Sumatra, to come to TALAPETA for one-month or three-month courses in military strategy, agricultural technique, and nationalist thought. The total number trained at TALAPETA by the end of the war was about 1,000 young activists. They, as well as the original better-trained agricultural cadres, were sent off to organize units in rural areas. One cadre was simply told 'to set up a battalion of 500 people. You have this person to rely on'. 80 In this way Inoue claimed a total guerrilla force, based among peasants and fishermen, of up to 50,000 men. Three sections were developed with names beloved of Japanese ultra-nationalism: a Barisan Harimau Liar (Mokotai) or Wild Tiger Unit comprised mainly of Karo, Toba, and Simalungun Bataks to operate in the upland areas of the residency; a Barisan Naga Terbang (Hiryutai) or Flying Dragon Unit for coastal defences, especially strong in Asahan where it was led by Nulung Sirait; and even a small Islamic unit known as Sabilillah (Junkyotai) or army

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

of martyrs. The urban GERINDO politicians had only a loose coordinating role over these guerrilla units. Although Nakashima had explicitly instructed Inoue to concentrate on quality rather than quantity of trainees, and 'not to arouse the anxiety of the native rulers', such massive preparations could not be kept secret. The kerajaan was alarmed at the size and orientation of the Kenkokutai, and had, in Inoue's words, 'an unreasoned prejudice against it'. T h e climate of 1942 appeared to be returning with the promise of an open contest for power. Once again kerajaan fighting groups were mobilized in reaction to Kenkokutai strength. 'Subsequently in many parts of the shu conflicts occurred repeatedly between members of the two groups.' 81 A number of other Japanese were involved in the last months of the occupation in building secret contacts as a basis for guerrilla operations after a Japanese landing. The intelligence officer, Kondo Tsugio, had been allowed to establish his own Kondo-butai with just such a purpose during 1944. It was essentially an organization among Japanese military personnel in Aceh and East Sumatra, although maintaining contacts with such radical opponents of the kerajaan as Jacub Siregar and Husein Sab. No other project developed the degree of organization among Indonesians of the Kenkokutai, however. The Aceh chokan, receiving the same instructions as Nakashima in March 1945, gave the task of secretly organizing a guerrilla group to Masubuchi. Whether because he was too heavily involved in other administrative duties, too restricted by lino's ovo-uleebalang policy, or because 'there was no need in Aceh to organize a separate guerrilla unit, because the PUSA network already provided that', 8 2 there appears to have been no real training in Aceh. The Masubuchi kikan, modelled on the F-kikan and using the same personnel, was simply a set of contacts and leaders of a potential resistance movement in the villages. Its most active Indonesian promoters were Hoesain Almujahid, Said Abu Bakar, and T . M. Amin—Masubuchi's political 'secretary' at this stage. The only real training of Acehnese guerrillas was that given to twelve selected PUSA youths sent to Singapore in late 1944 for training by the Ibaragi kikan, which had taken over the intelligence and 5th-column role of the Fujiwara kikan there. 83

PREPARING

'INDEPENDENCE'

The growing misery and bitterness affecting almost all sections of Sumatran society during 1944 was briefly relieved by the promise of 'independence in the future' in Prime Minister Koiso's speech of 7 September to the Japanese Diet. Re-assessment had been forced on the Japanese war cabinet by disastrous military setbacks, notably American

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penetration of the Mariana defence line with the taking of Saipan on 9 July. Called in to remedy a near-hopeless situation, Koiso presided over a series of reconsiderations of the options, in which the fate of Indonesia was one factor. Indonesian resources were already virtually useless to Japan because of the collapse of shipping connexions. The vital consideration was whether the defence of the Indonesian islands would be better promoted by a total unity of Japanese control, or by the degree of popular support which might flow from concessions on independence. As in the 1943 discussions, the only local command to support independence was the 16th Army in Java. Army Headquarters in Tokyo nevertheless decided for a commitment to independence for all the 'East Indies', and Navy objections were overruled. Little was agreed on the practical concessions to be made beyond permission for the Indonesian flag and anthem, at least in Java and Sumatra. The military administration in Sumatra made no secret of its scepticism about the practicality of the independence promise. The opinion of the Japanese Army officials in Sumatra was that the people of that country were not sufficiently developed, either politically or culturally, to take on themselves the responsibilities of self-government. They therefore approached the task in a 'half-hearted manner'.84 In their speeches in Sumatra Japanese officials made clear that Indonesia was still 'like a weak child, which has to have guidance from its parents', 85 and that progress would be dependent on co-operation with Japan for final victory. The practical effect of the promise on the conduct of administration was very slight. Its effect on political consciousness in Sumatra, however, could hardly be exaggerated. The Japanese spared no effort in exploiting the propaganda value of the Koiso statement, the only positive gesture the propaganda machine could use at a time of increasing misery and bitterness. In every centre there were rallies, speeches, and special publications. The climax was a massive celebration in Bukittinggi on 7-9 October, hailed as the greatest display of Sumatran enthusiasm 'since the world began'. 86 The Bukittinggi meetings also provided the first opportunity for the leaders of each Sumatran shu to compare notes and jockey for potential leadership of the island. Adinegoro led the organizing committee for the celebrations, and East Sumatra was also represented by three kerajaan delegates as well as Soangkoepon and H. A. R. Sjihab. Aceh sent T . Njak Arif, Daud Beureu'eh, and a rising young uleebalang from East Aceh, T . Daudsjah (guncho of Idi, and later of Langsa). For most Sumatrans, and certainly for the conservative Malay sultanates, this was just another empty Japanese propaganda exercise.

136

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

Xarim M. S. saw that the concession came too late to modify popular hostility to the Japanese, and began to speak more boldly of fighting 'with or without Japan'.87 Nevertheless the advantages for the nationalists were considerable. Their basic reason for collaborating with the Japanese again appeared credible, and could be proclaimed without fear of Kenpeitai retaliation. Japanese propaganda methods gave them an audience for nationalist image-making beyond their pre-war dreams. Whereas the red-white national flag had been totally forbidden since 1942, suddenly it was not only allowed but enforced. Every home had to fly it (just a little behind the rising sun of Japan) during the celebrations, and twenty thousand voices reportedly joined at Bukittinggi in singing the 'Indonesia Raya'. Even in Aceh, where nationalist ideas had been restricted to a tiny elite before the war, the Islamic-educated young men grouped around the Atjeh Sinbun, the propaganda service and other Japanese offices and armed units became genuinely excited by the ideal of Indonesian independence. They gradually came to represent a new force in Acehnese politics, more interested in unity than in the old uleebalang-PUSA conflict. The Japanese-sponsored propaganda, Dr Amir later noted, did 'more in one year for the idea of political unity and urge for independence than ten years of ordinary propaganda before the war'.88 THE RLGIME IN

CRISIS

Japanese moves during the last months of the Pacific War were marked by a growing sense of unreality and desperation. Concessions towards independence were forced on a reluctant 25th Army from above, and an all-Sumatran leadership gradually emerged. Against the backdrop of an increasingly wretched and embittered population, and an elite becoming sceptical of Japan's ability to win the war, these manoeuvres took on the character of a sandiwara (play) in its last act. Rival Indonesian factions began as in 1942 to eye each other in the knowledge that the colonial arbiter was on the way out, although they were now more closely tied to one another in a variety of Japanese-inspired unity fronts. Although the ratio of land to people made Sumatra less vulnerable than Java, even in the larger island conditions were close to famine by 1945. Despite the massive propaganda devoted to increased food production, it was estimated that only 60-65 per cent of Acehnese rice fields were planted in 1945.89 Hamka found himself an object of popular hatred, as a member of the favoured elite being groomed for 'independence', when he held a lavish feast for his son's circumcision amid the surrounding starvation. 'The independence that was promised was only a cheat. Misery had risen above their chests and reached their necks,

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On the estates many coolies were dying of starvation. And naked!' 90 The situation in Aceh may have been objectively worse—it was certainly more actively resented by the sturdy Acehnese peasant. Presumably in an abortive attempt to frighten other farmers the Atjeh Sinbun gave a rare glimpse into the growing rebelliousness in late 1944, when it published the proceedings against peasants who had been sabotaging the telephone line in Lhong, and refusing rice and labour in Pulau Beras (both Aceh Besar). T h e accused villagers of Pulau Beras had promoted the view, in March-April 1944, that . . . since the Japanese Army came to Pulau Beras, all orang kampung (villagers) have been forced to work for the Army, and foodstuffs like eggs, vegetables, and rice have been bought at a cheap price, which is completely against the interests of we orang kampung. Eight peasants were accused of joining in the campaign to urge fellowvillagers to refuse labour, guard duty, and supplies, and one had finally agreed to kill the Acehnese village head. The leader was sentenced to death. 91 Though similar information was never released again, the bitterness and rebellion spread ever deeper. Its most substantial outbreak was the so-called 'Pandraih rebellion' of May 1945 in Jeunieb (Samalanga). After a series of minor incidents over Japanese labour demands for a nearby airfield, the Japanese sent a military unit to Pandraih to intimidate the Acehnese. The villagers of Lheue Simpang responded by launching a night attack on the camp, killing two Japanese before retreating to the hills. The Japanese occupied their village and began reprisals until they were again attacked by the rebel band, now in a mood to die as syahid (martyrs). According to an Acehnese account the Japanese soldiers were so surprised and demoralized that most of them fell victim to Acehnese rencong and swords before the remnant succeeded in gunning down the last of the forty-three syahid. In the course of the conflict both the senior Japanese official in the Bireuen area and the Acehnese guncho, Teuku Jacoeb, were also killed by the rebels. 92 All around Aceh there were unreported attacks on isolated Japanese. 'Although the rebellions were not carried out systematically, the impression they produced was very great. Japanese no longer dared to move about freely.' A 1906 decree forbidding Acehnese to carry weapons of any sort was revived and strengthened. Once again, as in the early years of Dutch 'pacification', Acehnese were discovered reading the forbidden Hikayat Perang Sabil and preparing for a martyr's death. 93 If the fabric of Indonesian society, the ties of obligation between patron and client, lord and vassal, headman and villager, had been eroded in the Dutch period, the process reached new and violent heights by

138

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

the end of the Japanese occupation. While the bulk of the population experienced unprecedented hardship, the comfortable elite was pressed ever more relentlessly into assisting to exploit them for Japanese purposes. Some leaders were adroit enough to retain a popular following and subtly direct its anger against the Japanese or domestic Indonesian rivals. But the credibility of the whole category so sharply defined under the Japanese as pemimpin (leaders), whether traditional, nationalist, or religious, was gravely and irretrievably damaged. A new leadership whose potential for organized violence was much greater than the old was formed by the pemuda (youth) who had received their formative education at Japanese hands. Through the Giyugun, Heiho, Tokobetsu Keisatsutai, TALAPETA, and numerous other schools and organizations they had been exhorted to such values as sacrifice, patriotic duty, and discipline. The Japanese intention of directing this exclusively against the Western Allies was increasingly difficult to sustain. 94 While the cement of traditional society was dissolving in this way, the Japanese worked desperately to construct new types of organizational unity, on the twin programme of 'independence' and defence preparation. The Tonarigumi (Indonesian: Rukun Tetangga) system of neighbourhood associations, to organize night patrols, rationing, and the handling of government instructions at the lowest level, was being formed in Medan in June/July 1944, and in the rural areas of northern Sumatra over the following six months. T h e problem of 'uniting the spirit of the people' was now on the agenda of every meeting. Vying with one another in the urgency of their appeals for unity, speakers left no doubt of the strains which the growing disintegration in practice imposed. Daud Beureu'eh complained in December 1944: 'Why is unity not achieved ? Whose is the sin ? . . . To talk is easy but what we must work on is the execution. . . . "Great indeed is the curse of God on the man who preaches what he does not practise." ' In case there was any doubt at whom he was pointing the finger, he insisted a few days later that the religious movement culminating in PUSA had already unified the Acehnese people in 1939. 95 T h e proposal of the third Aceh shu sangi kai for an all-embracing organization for unity of struggle gave birth on 20 January to a hokokai comparable to that established in Java almost a year earlier, MAIBKATRA and the other Aceh organizations for raising funds (KOA) and soldiers (PETA) were dissolved into this new body, which would include every inhabitant of Aceh in its ranks. The first leader of the hokokai was predictably T . Njak Arif. On 30 May he resigned, however, either to concentrate on his destined role as understudy to the Japanese chokan, or because of a genuine attempt to bring forward leaders acceptable to all sides. T h e new chairman, Panglima Polim, and vice-chairmen,

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Tuanku Mahmud and Tuanku Abdul Azis, were all diplomatic in manner and relatively acceptable to PUSA opinion. In the religious section of the hokokai, Daud Beureu'eh's influence was for the first time recognized by his official primacy over Muhammadiah's Teungku Hasbi. More significant, however, was Daud Beureu'eh's return to styling himself publicly as chairman of PUSA rather than using his Japanese title. 96 No more than its East Sumatra shadow, the Dai Toa Kensetsu Undo, could the Aceh hokokai alter the impression that 'New Sumatra' was coming apart at the seams.

LEADERS

OF

SUMATRA

Although the degree of social dislocation and peasant unrest appears to have been higher in Sumatra than in Java by 1945, its impact on the Japanese was cushioned by the small, divided, and captive Sumatran elite, cowed by the arrests and executions from which its Java equivalent had been spared. The Sumatra command could continue to argue that 'the demand for independence was not nearly so strong as in Java'. 97 The only apparent progress towards the independence goal was the announcement on 24 March 1945 of an all-Sumatran Advisory Council, Chuo Sangi In. The forty members of this body (fifteen elected by the various shu sangi kai; twenty-five appointed) met in Bukittinggi on 26 June 1945—almost two years after its Java equivalent. Its significance was the first opportunity it offered to extend to the Sumatra level the process of shuffling the group of privileged and highly-paid pemimpin which had already produced an acknowledged leadership in almost every shii. Even though appointed by the Japanese the key leaders appear to have been generally accepted. The West Sumatran educational reformer Mohammad Sjafei was appointed chairman, and T . Njak Arif (Aceh) and Mr Abdul Abbas (Lampung, though of Mandailing origin) vice-chairmen. Adinegoro moved from his Kita-Sumatora-Sinbun in Medan to head the permanent secretariat of the Council in Bukittinggi. This Sumatran leadership was built up in the press during June and July. The former national chairman of GERINDO, Dr A. K. Gani, the best-known politician in Sumatra and now chairman of the Palembang Council, also made himself a nationalist spokesman through his prominence in debate. Much of the Chuo Sangi In's time was taken up with laudatory speeches and government questions about how best to further the war effort. On the third day, however, it was permitted to advance its own proposals, all designed to hasten progress towards independence. The major ones were: (1) That the Chuo Sangi In was itself the legitimate Sumatran representative body, with a duty to represent and to guide its 10 million people, as well as to advise the Japanese.

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

(2) That a Sumatra hokokai should be established as the people's movement for independence throughout the island, co-ordinating the hokokai already formed in many shu. (3) That the Giyugun and Heiho should be merged into a new 'People's militia as the basis for the Indonesian army'. Dr Gani spoke of a strength of 500,000 men in Sumatra. (4) That a committee be formed in Sumatra to investigate independence, and a team to be sent to Jakarta to co-ordinate with the similar body already working there. (5) That a tertiary Islamic college be established in Sumatra. (6) That Indonesian advisers be attached to each department of the military administration in Bukittinggi.98 By the time of these pronouncements, on 2 July, the Sumatra military command was under intense and unwelcome pressure to speed up independence preparations. At a conference in Singapore in late May, the 25th Army attempted to dissociate Sumatra completely from the independence moves now being rushed in Java. Having pleaded in vain 'the unreadiness of the Sumatrans for independence', General Shimura was again overruled when he argued for a separate Sumatran state over which the 25th Army could retain control. Tokyo was already committed to a proclamation of the independence of the whole former Netherlands Indies 'at the earliest possible moment'. The only concession was that Java would in practice become independent at the time of the proclamation, and the less prepared areas would be incorporated into the new state as they became ready.99 This pressure had remarkably little effect on Bukittinggi. The only action on the Chuo Sangi In proposals was the naming of a Sumatran committee to investigate independence, on 28 July. The council's proposal for co-ordination with Jakarta was significantly not mentioned, Bukittinggi no doubt hoping to continue to control the pace of developments. Fortunately for eventual Indonesian unity, however, the 25th Army's preparation of a distinct Sumatran leadership was not only slow, but finally abortive. There seemed no doubt that Sjafei, Adinegoro, and A. K. Gani had become 'the Sumatrans' leaders in all negotiations with the Japanese'.100 Sjafei and Adinegoro began a speech-making tour of Sumatra on 26 July, having lengthy discussions with Gani in Palembang at the beginning of August. The Sumatra independence investigation committee, which never had time to meet, was again headed by Sjafei and Adinegoro, and most of its twenty-four members were known from the well-publicized Bukittinggi gatherings of October 1944 and June-July 1945. The only newcomers in the investigating committee were Dr Amir and Mr T. M. Hasan, two intellectuals from East Sumatra where the problem of

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an acceptable leadership had still not been solved. The jealousy of the dominant sultans of each other, but still more of any 'popular' challenge to their sovereign position, had never been overcome by the Japanese. T h e 25th Army's cautious moves were overtaken by the drastic deterioration in Japan's military position and the decision in early August that 7 September should be fixed as the date for East Indian independence. Three Sumatran delegates were to be sent immediately to join fifteen from Java and three from Sulawesi at the preparatory committee to meet on 18 August in Jakarta. Whether because of obstructionism in Bukittinggi or simply communication difficulties, it was not the established Sumatran leadership which was now sent to Jakarta, but the two East Sumatran newcomers. A third delegate, Mr Abdul Abbas, joined Dr Amir and Mr Hasan in Jakarta on 14 August. It was on disunited Medan that the burden of initiating the real independence movement in Sumatra was destined to fall. The transfer of administrative functions to Indonesians was similarly rushed belatedly at the end of the war, despite the much earlier example of Java. In local administration the key Japanese to be replaced were the bunshucho. In the last month of the war the abler kerajaan officials in each region were designated as understudy bunshucho throughout Aceh and East Sumatra (see Appendix 1). Since the Japanese had relied heavily on just these men ever since 1942, they had nothing to learn in moving to the higher office. The real question was whether the appointees would be accepted in their new authority by their people. In East Sumatra there appear to have been no Japanese appointments of key officials at shu level. In Aceh, however, T . Njak Arif was the obvious choice to replace the chokan, and an able group of 'technocrats' was designated to take over the departments of economic affairs, agriculture, and police. 101 When a bomb on Hiroshima brought the war to an unexpectedly sudden end on 14 August, the society of northern Sumatra was far from completely prepared for independence. The Japanese had partially bridged the gulf between kerajaan administrators and pergerakan propagandists, but with a span too delicate to withstand the pressures ahead. The high pitch of sacrificial patriotism to which Japanese-trained youth had been raised, together with the economic deprivation to which most of their countrymen had been lowered, gave promise of a severe testing time for what remained of traditional social structure.

Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 1944, in H . J . Benda, J. K. Irikura, and K. Kishi (eds.), Japanese Military Administration in Indonesia: Selected Documents (New Haven, Yale Southeast Asia Studies, 1965), p. 242.

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

2. Shiraishi Saya, 'Aceh under the Japanese occupation—rival leaders in Aceh Besar and Pidie' (Unpublished M.A. thesis, International Christian University, 1975), p. 19. 3. For example, Tengku Hasnan became fuku-bunshucho of Labuhan Batu/ Rantau Prapat in addition to his traditional office of Tengku Besar of Bilah; Tengku Hafas (replaced in January 1945 by Tengku Amir Hamzah) became fuku-bunshucho (sometimes called guncho) of Pengkalan Brandan as well as a Pangeran of Langkat: Kita-Sumatora-Sinbun (henceforth K-S-S), 24viii-2603, 13-X-2603, 7-xi-2604, 10-i-2605. 4. Army telegram 5 December 1942, in Benda, Irikura, and Kishi, p. 47. Also ibid., pp. 169 and 184-6; Yoichi Itagaki,'Some aspects of the Japanese policy for Malaya under the occupation, with special reference to Nationalism', Papers on Malayan History, ed. K. Tregonning (Singapore, 1962), pp. 256-7'. 5. Mohammad Hasjim had to settle clashes between the ideebalang and their subjects when police chief first in Meureudu (mid-1943) and later in Sigli (end of 1943); interview October 1970. See also Piekaar, pp. 261-3. 6. Abdullah Hussain, Terjebak (Kuala Lumpur, Pustaka Antara, 1965), p. 276. 7. Mr Mohammad Joesoef (1903-68) was born in Kebumen, Central Java, and studied at the Willem II School in Batavia and the Leiden Law Faculty (1922-7). He was prominent in the Perhimpunan Indonesia in Holland and the Indonesisch Studieclub in Surabaya on his return in 1928-9. After release from a brief period of detention, in February 1930, he went to Medan to replace Iwa Kusuma Sumantri (recently interned) in M r Sunarjo's law practice. He was however a relatively subdued member of PARTINDO and PARINDRA in Medan.

8. Mr Luat Siregar (1908-53) was born in Sipirok, South Tapanuli, and educated at the H.I.S. in Siantar and the A.M.S. in Yogyakarta. He completed his law degree at Leiden in 1934 and practised privately in Siantar, Padang Sidempuan, and Medan until the Japanese occupation. Although he was in PARINDRA before the war, his brother Idris was a left-winger interned in Digul. Luat himself showed an interest in the peasant question in 1938, though it was primarily his wartime association with Xarim M. S. which brought him into the P K I in 1945. As Resident of East Sumatra (AprilSeptember 1946) he was much accused of gambling and corruption. 9. Sumatra Sinbun, 26, 27, and 29-vii-2603; Atjeh Sinbun, 4 and 12-iv-2604; and 16-V-2605; Piekaar, pp. 210-11. Both the winner of the competition, Surya [pseud, for Andi Miala], Leburnja Keraton Atjeh (1944), and Ismail Jakoeb's Tengku Tjhik di Tiro: Hidup danperdjuangannja (1945), were more widely reprinted after the war. 10. Sumatra Sinbun, 12-vii-2603; K-S-S, 23-viii-2603; Hamka, kenangan hidup (Kuala Lumpur, 1966), p. 119.

Kenang-

11. Piekaar, pp. 23-4, 201, 205, 213, 222, and 274-5. 12. Hamka's father, the great reformist H. Abdul Karim Amrullah, had featured in early Japanese propaganda in Java, but used the prominence so gained for a dramatic public rejection of the keirei to the Japanese Emperor. In Medan it was the Wasliyah leader H. A. R. Sjihab who led opposition to this unacceptable imposition on Muslims. Hamka, Ajahku (Jakarta, Djajamurni, 1967), pp. 192-6 and 287-99; Kenang-kenangan, pp. 190-3. 13. K-S-S,

l-xi-2603; Hamka, Kenang-kenangan,

pp. 199-247; interviews.

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143

14. This issue is more fully discussed in my 'The Japanese occupation and rival Indonesian elites: Northern Sumatra in 1942', J AS, XXXV, no. 1 (November 1975), pp. 49-52. 15. Interviews Kondo Tsugio, Adachi Takashi, and Fujiwara Iwaichi, Tokyo, luly 1973. Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, p. 83. 16. This relationship is described at length in Inoue's Bapa Djanggut, esp. pp. 56-60 and 73-87. Inoue implies that Siregar was impotent. 17. Abdullah Hussain, Terjebak, pp. 277-9. Interviews. 18. 'Principles governing the military administration of Sumatra', April 1943, in Benda, Irikura, and Kishi, p. 171. See also Y. Itagaki and K. Kishi, 'Japanese Islamic policy—Sumatra and Malaya', in Intisari, II, no. 3 (Singapore, n.d.), esp. pp. 14-15. 19. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan,

p. 205.

20. Ibid., p. 207. 21. Ibid., pp. 202-11; Piekaar, pp. 304-7; Mohammad Said, 'Teror Djepang di Atjeh Nopember 1942', Merdeka (Jakarta), 3 and 4 July 1972; Abdullah Hussain, Terjebak, pp. 245-6; Shiraishi Saya, pp. 22-3. 22. Cited Piekaar, pp. 207 and 275. 23. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan, pp. 213-16; Piekaar, p. 207; Shiraishi Saya, pp. 23-4; interviews. 24. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan, pp. 217-19; Sumatra Sinbun, 21-vi-2603; K-S-S, 23-viii-2603. One hundred and fifty East Sumatra ulama met the day before the rally, but apparently reached no decisions beyond a pledge of loyalty to Japan. 25. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan, pp. 223-7; K-S-S, 24-viii-2603; Tengku Luckman Sinar, 'The East Coast of Sumatra under the Japanese heel', p. 41. 26. War Cabinet, Joint Staff, 8 August 1943, 'Operations against the northern tip of Sumatra', WO 203/4893. 27. War Cabinet, Chiefs of Staff Committee, 28 September 1943, WO 203/ 4893. 28. India Command, Report by Joint Planning Staff, Paper 93, 7 October 1943, WO 203/4893. The 'Culverin' alternative was still being considered in July 1944, though by then less seriously than Burma: WO 203/1627. 29. 'Rural unrest in Sumatra: A Japanese report', p. 124; Shiraishi Saya, pp. 19-20. 30. Shiraishi Saya, pp. 16 and 20. Sumatra Si?ibun, 17-iv-2603. T h e figure of 750, in Piekaar, p . 263, appears more probable than the 250 estimate in British Intelligence Summary 16, 16 February 1946, WO 172/9893. 31. Sumatra Sinbun, 24-V-2603 and 22-vii-2603; K-S-S, 27-xi-2603; Piekaar, pp. 208-9. 32. Speech of Luat Siregar in K-S-S, 33. K-S-S,

6-ix-2603, 22 and

27-xi-2603.

30-ix-2603, 9-X-2603, 25-xi-2603; Piekaar, pp. 219 and 238.

34. Piekaar, p. 238. Atjeh-verslag to 15 January 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. 'Arsip Se-

144

THE

BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

jarah' (typescript compiled by PRIMA—Pejuang Republik Indonesia Medan Area, Medan, 1972), pp. 25-6. 35. K-S-S, 2-ix-2604; Piekaar, p . 219. Officers trained in the Hikojo Kimutai included (later Brig.-Gen.) T . Hamzah of Samalanga, Aceh, and T . M . Noerdin of Serdang, East Sumatra. 36. K-S-S,

23-ix-2603.

37. Abdullah Hussain, Terjebak, p. 206. 38. Tomon Hiroshi, Murudeka (Tokyo, Oogi Shuppan, 1975). Republik Indonesia Departemen Penerangan, 20 Tahun Indonesia Merdeka (Jakarta, n.d. [1965?] ), I I I , p . 192. PRIMA, 'Arsip Sejarah', p . 28. 39. Masubuchi circular 22 June 1943, reproduced in Piekaar, p. 360. 40. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan,

p. 229.

41. Compiled from lists in K-S-S,

20-xii-2603, and Piekaar, pp. 220-1.

42. Tengku Hafas (1895-C.1955) was a grandson of Sultan Osman of Deli and son of the Pangeran of Bedagai, a Deli dependency. Although appointed wakil sultan in Bedagai in 1932 he was repeatedly passed over for his father't title of Pangeran. Perhaps as a result of his consequent resentment againss the Deli sultanate, he was employed by Langkat in 1943 as Pangeran of Langkat Hilir. 43. M r Teuku Mohammad Hasan was born in 1906, eldest son of the ruler of Pineueng, in Pidie. Devout and studious, he proceeded quickly through MULO and A M S in Bandung and University in Leiden, completing his Law Degree in 1933 without having taken any active part in student politics. He returned to private practice in Medan until 1938, when he joined the staff of the new Sumatran Provincial Government as adjunct-referendaris. Although never part of the political sphere before 1945 he was active in religious and social matters, establishing a scholarship fund for young Acehnese (1939) and maintaining good relations both with PUSA and with the leading ulama in Medan. 44. K-S-S,

26 and 28-xi-2603; 10, 13 and 16-xii-2603.

45. Xarim M. S., 'Menentukan sikap, memenuhi kewadjipan', in 8-xii-2603.

K-S-S,

46. Dr Mohammad Amir (1900-49) was a Minangkabau from Talawi and a nephew of Adinegoro. As a medical student at the STOVIA in Batavia (1913-23) Amir was a close colleague of Dr Tengku Mansur in launching the youth movement Jong-Sumatranen-Bond, succeeding Mansur as its chairman (1920-3). He also edited the journal of the movement, as well as writing prolifically on questions of culture, philosophy, and popular science for various Indonesian periodicals. In Batavia he became associated with the Theosophical movement, which financed his further medical studies in Utrecht (1924-8) where he specialized in psychiatry. He married a niece of Ir Fournier, one of the leading Dutch theosophists in Java. Although in the pages of Pudjangga Baru he was one of the most eloquent opponents of Takdir Alisjahbana's demand for westernization, he at one time became a Dutch citizen and his domestic arrangements were very European (in contrast to those of Dr Mansur, whose Dutch wife affected a Malay style). Amir returned to Indonesia in 1928 and Medan in 1934, first in government service but from 1937 as personal physician to the

THE JAPANESE EXPERIENCE

145

Sultan of Langkat. Some of his many writings are collected in his Boenga Rampai (Medan, 1940). 47. Tengku Otteman (c. 1901-69), eldest son of Sultan Amaloedin of Deli, suffered as a young man of extravagant tastes from his father's preference for his half-brother Tengku Amiroeddin. The relatively low allowances he received from his father ensured he was always in heavy debt and under suspicion for embezzling government funds, until 1933, when he became effective regent of the state at a salary of f. 1,000 a month. Otteman was educated partly in Switzerland, enjoyed racehorses, and visited Europe as often as possible. He succeeded on his father's death in 1945, adopting the title Sultan Osman Alsani Perkasa Alam. 48. K-S-S, 30-vi-2604, 3 and 6-vii-2604, 4, 6, and 22-xi-2604, 19 and 2 9 xii-2604; Atjeh Sinbun, 2-xii-2604 and 28-vi-2605; Hamka, Kenangkenangan hidup, p. 246. 49. Lt. Brondgeest, in Enquetecommissie Regeringsbeleid 1940-1945. Verslag houdende de uitkomsten van het onderzoek, vol. VIII (A&B), (The Hague, 1956), p. 587. 50. K-S-S,

29-ix-2603; l-vii-2604; 15-ix-2604.

51. Atjeh Sinbun, 20-V-2604. For the statistics, revealed to meetings of the shu sangi kai, see Atjeh Sinbun, 12-iv-2604, and Piekaar, pp. 222, 225-6, and 290-2. 52. Interview Nakata Eishu, Tokyo, July 1973. 53. Atjeh Sinbun, 8, 12 and 15-iv-2604; Piekaar, pp. 229 and 295-6. 54. T . M. A. Panglima Polim, Memoir (Tjatatan),

p. 8.

55. Piekaar, pp. 229-32; Hamka, 'Teuku Hassan Glompang Pajong: Consul Muhammadijah Pertama Atjeh', Pandji Masjarakat, May 1969, pp. 3 0 - 1 ; interviews. Hasan's rather lukewarm impressions of his tour of Japan appear in K-S-S, ll-xi-2603. 56. 6,000 attended at 16 Leubeue in July 1943; 6,000 at Ie Leubeue, 7,000 at Kg. Aree, and 3,500 at Jangkabuya in March 1944: Sumatra Sinbun, 29-vii-2603; Atjeh Sinbun, 18-iii-2603. 57. Interviews. One ulama, Teungku Madan, was killed as a result of a clash with the ideebalang of Ribai (Sigli) in 1943, and a similar clash with T . Mahmud of Meureudu also caused fatalities. 58. Piekaar, pp. 218-19; K-S-S,

22-X-2603; interviews.

59. Joenoes Djamil, Riwajat barisan 'F' (Fudjiwara Kikan) di Atjeh (re-stencilled 1975 by PLPIS, Banda Aceh), esp. pp. 17 and 19. A list of uleebalang participants is added to the front of this report, as if by another hand. T h e Japanese version was Aceh-shu Kogun Shinchu Kyoryoku-shi (A history of co-operation for the advancement of the imperial forces in Aceh). 60. Aoki Eigoro, Achie no Minzoku-undo (mimeograph 1955), p. 33. See also p. 8 of a typescript English summary of this report in Cornell University Library. 61. Ibid., pp. 29-35. Shiraishi Saya, pp. 33-9. Piekaar, pp. 263-8. Interviews Aoki Eigoro, Said Abu Bakar, Azuma Toru, Yamaguchi Susumu, Hasan Aly, Teungku Mohd. Hasbi As-Siddiqy.

146

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

62. Atjeh Sinbun, 8-iv-2604. 63. Mutyara, 'Atjeh Utara Sekarang', Atjeh Sinbun, 22-iii-2604. 64. Aoki Eigoro, Achie no Minzoku-undo,

p. 39.

65. Ibid., pp. 40-1. Also Atjeh Sinbun, 18-iii-2604. 66. Atjeh Sinbun, 29—iii-2604. 67. Although about a quarter of the 102 Acehnese son were in Pidie, the fifty kadhi appointments announced by the end of June 1944, included only four from this area. Atjeh Sinbun, 3, 6, 10, 20 and 27-V-2604; 7 and 24-vi-2604. 68. Atjeh Sinbun, 29-iv-2604. Also ibid., 6 and lO-v-2604. 69. Ibid., 3-V-2604, 10-vi-2604 and 22-vii-2604. Nazaruddin Sjamsuddin, 'The Course of the National Revolution in Aceh' (Thesis, 1974), pp. 56-7. Interviews Aoki Eigoro, Azuma Toru, Said Abu Bakar. Aoki Eigoro, Achie no Minzoku-undo (English summary p. 11), gives as a reason for Abu Bakar's dismissal the organization of a mass rally in front of the Shukyo Hoin to protest against uleebalang obstruction of its work. 70. The Shumuhan was announced on 4 July and officially opened in the presence of the sultans on 19 August 1944. K-S-S, 5 and 21-vii-2604; 2 1 viii-2604. 71. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan

hidup, pp. 235-9.

72. Speech at TALAPETA opening, K-S-S,

30-viii-2603.

73. Ibid., and Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, p. 81. See also K-S-S, 28-iii-2604.

31—viii—2603 and

74. Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, p. 81. 75. Zainu'ddin, 'The Japanese occupation', in Indonesian Nationalism and Revolution: six first-hand accounts (Monash University, Melbourne, 1971), pp. 13-14. 76. K-S-S,

14-viii-2603 and 13-ix-2603.

77. Ibid., l-ix-2604. 78. Ibid., 31-X-2604 and 4-xi-2604. TALAPETA Dosokai exhorted its members to remember four points: (1) to repeat each day the pledge and the thanksgiving learned at TALAPETA; (2) to write down each day's work and then hansei (make a self-criticism); (3) to keep the hair short; (4) to work without a shirt whenever possible; (5) 'in good times and bad, to give as much news as possible to our bapak'. 79. Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, pp. 86-8. 80. Zainu'ddin, 'The Japanese Occupation', p. 14. 81. Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, pp. 88-95. Also Iman Marah typescript (1947), pp. 32-3, CMI Document 5331, ARA Archief Procureur-Generaal, no. 627. Interviews. 82. Interview Kondo Tsugio, 28 October 1973. 83. Interviews. Cf. Piekaar, p. 245, and Abdullah Hussain, Terjebak, pp. 335 and 378-9.

147

THE JAPANESE EXPERIENCE

84. Interrogation of Maj.-Gen. Shimura Fumie (Director of General Affairs Dept. Sumatra Gunseikan 1944-5), 13 June 1946, RvO, I.C. 009403. On the Japanese discussions see Okuma Memorial Social Sciences Research Centre, Waseda University, Japanese Military Administration in Indonesia, trans. JPRS (Washington, 1963), pp. 372-80; Benda, Irikura, and Kishi, pp. 240-62. 85. lino, in Atjeh Sinbun, 7-X-2604. Also Piekaar, pp. 233-4. 86. Atjeh Sinbun, ll-x-2604. 87. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan hidup, pp. 241 and 270. 88. Dr Amir's notes 14 June 1946, RvO, I.C. 005964. 89. T . M. Daudsjah in Boekoe Peringatan Satoe Tahoen N.R.I, di Soematera: 17-8-'45-17-8-'46 (Bukittinggi, 1946), p. 39. 90. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan,

p. 270.

91., Atjeh Sinbun, 7, 11, 19, and 21-X-2604. Also Piekaar, p. 316. 92. Kusmanijah, 'Siapa para Sjuhada 44 Lheue', Sinar Darussalam, 12 (Mar./ Apr. 1969), pp. 51-6. Piekaar, p. 307. Abdullah Hussain, Terjebak, pp. 324-5. 93. Abdullah Hussain, Terjebak, pp. 339-41. Also K-S-S,

8-vii-2604.

94. On 9 December 1944 Xarim M. S. organized a meeting of pemuda representatives from all East Sumatra, in the hope (apparently abortive) of obtaining Japanese sanction for a militant youth movement. Had this succeeded East Sumatran pemuda might have developed the same coherence and leadership as their colleagues in Jakarta. K-S-S, 11, 13, and 15-xii-2604. 95. Atjeh Sinbun, 5 and 8-xii-2604. 96. Ibid., 24-X-2604; 19-iv-2605; 2-vi-2605. Piekaar, pp. 240-1. 97. Interrogation of General Shimura, 13 June 1946, RvO I.C. 009403. 98. M. Sjafei, Menjatoe-padoekan Soematera Baroe (Bukittinggi, 2605), esp. pp. 41-4. Atjeh Sinbun, 28-vi-2605, 3 and 31-vii-2605. 99. Interrogation Shimura, loc. cit. Statement of Major Ishizima Tadakazu, 16 November 1946, RvO I.C. 059295. Benda, Irikura, and Kishi, pp. 26374. Japanese Military Administration, pp. 384-6 and 647-51. 100. Interrogation Shimura, loc. cit. On the leadership question see A. Reid, 'The birth of the Republic in Sumatra', Indonesia, 12 (1971), pp. 22-31. 101. Atjeh Sinbun, 14-viii-2605.

VI THE AGENTS OF REVOLUTION IN EAST SUMATRA q UJOUdNLUi~ oppO-lX-Ui-K, 0

• ,a. a « ^ •

'After the Jalan Bali affair broke . . . like a great shock awakening the spirit of the Indonesian people, bands of pemuda were formed at various places in and around Medan, by themselves without being planned in advance, just like pools of water in low-lying places when a great flood retreats after overrunning the fields on either side of a river. . .. One man in each of these bands then came to the fore as a leader, on the basis of his ability and competence.'1

A CITY

LEADERLESS

DRAMATIC decisions were taken in Jakarta in the week following the Japanese surrender. The independence of Indonesia was declared; Sukarno and Hatta were elected President and Vice-President of a new Republic; a constitution was accepted. Sumatra was declared to be a Province of the new Republic, with Medan as its capital and Mr T. M. Hasan as its Governor. As the delegates sent to Jakarta by the Japanese, Hasan and Dr Amir participated in all these brave words and deeds. Yet as far as Medan itself was concerned, the whole drama might almost have taken place on the moon. The reality was of a Japanese regime about to end, and a British-Dutch regime expected to take its place. The Japanese maintained a stricter control of information in East Sumatra than elsewhere. Indonesians in the Domei news agency were barred from work from 14 August. Few even of the privileged Indonesian leaders appear to have heard of the surrender of 15 August or the independence proclamation two days later. Only on 22 August, after a Singapore meeting of commanders had agreed to accept the surrender, was the news publicly broadcast that 'the war has come to a standstill'. The Japanese, it was insisted, continued to be responsible for law and order. 2 ac&C^AM^-^

Immediately before this public announcement the dliokan had tearfully given the same message to the circle of Indonesian pemimpin in

THE AGENTS OF REVOLUTION IN EAST SUMATRA

4

Medan in 1945

149

150

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

Medan. In response to a question he told some of them afterwards about a report that an independence declaration had been made in Ja\ karta. During August it was only on this level of distant rumour that | the Republic was known, and it seemed to have little enough relevance ' to the situation in the city. The prime concern of most leaders was with the effect that another change of colonial master would have on the delicate balance between rival Indonesian groups. How far would the solidarity of the favoured elite group extend in this new crisis? Dr Tengku Mansur, who had a certain primacy as chairman of the shu sangi kai, invited a select group of leaders to his house on 25 August to discuss this problem. The majority of those present were L from the kerajaan, although the rpergerakafi was represented by the obvious people—Xarim M. S. and M r Joesoef among them. All were concerned to prevent an outbreak of reprisals and denunciations of 'collaborators' to the incoming Allies. The group circulated a statement calling on the population to remain calm, and elected a committee headed by the Sultan of Langkat and Dr Mansur to explain to the Allies why it had been necessary for everybody to co-operate with the Japanese. This appears to be the factual basis for a widespread impression that the kerajaan had formed a Comite van Ontvangst (reception committee) to welcome the Dutch and even seize power before their arrival. 'The Sultan of Langkat and Dr Mansur were said to have formed a committee to arrest the leaders of the pergerakan.'3 The gathering may indeed have consciously excluded those it felt had gone too far with the Japanese, as even/Xarim had his suspicions of the GERINDO /Kenkokutai group. It certainly had neither the power nor the unity to act in the manner suspected. The committee was very rapidly overtaken by events, and the contacts the rajas did make with British and Dutch representatives later were generally discreet and on their own initiative. Nevertheless belief in a nebulous but sinister Comite van Ontvangst remained the most commonly-heard accusation against the kerajaan.4

i

It was the apparent certainty of a Dutch restoration rather than the actions of their enemies which most demoralized those who now felt themselves compromised. Dr Rooskandar, BOMPA leader in Simalungun and responsible for the Siantar hospital where various prisonersof-war had suffered, took his own life in September. Hamka accepted the offer of an official car from his patron, Nakashima, with which he fled to West Sumatra on 24 August. Inoue Tetsuro appeared to have equally little confidence in the possibility of resisting the Allied occupation, even though he chose to go underground rather than face probable war crimes trials. At the end of August he arranged vehicles for Jacub Siregar, Saleh Oemar, and other Kenkokutai leaders to drive south with the aim of reaching Java. By giving way to their fears in this way all

THE AGENTS OF REVOLUTION IN EAST SUMATRA

151

of these men seemed to confirm their own guilt, and found it difficult to recapture the influence they once had. Saleh Oemar and Hamka quickly realized their mistake and returned to Medan in late September, although Siregar did not do so until Republican power was wellestablished. 5 To add to the difficulties of potential Republicans the Dutch presence was established more quickly and energetically in Medan than elsewhere in Sumatra or Java. An Anglo-Dutch country section (ADCS) of Mountbatten's Force 136 was formed in Colombo early in 1945, and parachuted three small commando units into northern Sumatra at the 1 end of June. Their task was to prepare information and contacts which might be useful in the British invasion of Malaya, planned for September uXk^+JU. _9^ After the surrender these three units were instructed to leave their bivouacs and contact the Japanese in Kutaraja, Rantau Prapat, and Bagan Siapiapi respectively, to ensure the welfare of Allied prisonersof-war and internees. Two further units were hastily dropped north-west of Medan as soon as a Japanese surrender became imminent, and both had reached the city before the end of August. The senior British party, led by South African Major Jacobs, moved quickly about Sumatra to contact high-level Japanese and visit p.o.w. camps. The other, primarily Dutch and led by Dutch Naval Lieutenant Brondgeest, had established itself in Medan's Hotel de Boer by 1 September. Brondgeest quickly made contact not only with the Japanese but with the Sultans of Langkat and Deli and other members of the pre-war elite who, while seeking some reforms, promised to co-operate with the Dutch return. 6 Brondgeest quickly formed the opinion that little active support for a Dutch return could be expected from either British or Japanese. However by acting independently with the support of local Ambonese and Menadonese, he thought the Dutch officers could control Medan and check any large-scale Republican movement until Dutch troops could land. Through his Dutch superior in ADCS, Admiral Helfrich, he obtained permission 'to organize a police force to take power into our own hands over as extensive as possible an area of East Sumatra'. 7 On 14 September another Dutch commando, the tough and subsequently notorious Lt. Westerling, and three Dutch sergeants were parachuted into Medan, with 180 revolvers, to train and equip this police force. By early October Westerling appears to have commanded a tolerably well-armed and trained force of almost two hundred men, with some hundreds more ex-p.o.w.s anxious to join it if arms could be found. The force set a watch on strategic installations such as electricity and water supply, and conducted regular patrols of Medan and the route to Belawan with a couple of commandeered Japanese armoured cars. 8 The Dutch claimed, with considerable exaggeration, that they controlled

152

a/tjuM^

\j*-

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

the city until the arrival of British troops. 9 During the first month following the Japanese surrender Allied radio control and air supply was also better with Sumatra than with Java. From 21 August leaflets began to be dropped in various parts of Sumatra on behalf of NICA (Netherlands Indies Civil Administration). 10 On the ground a provisional NICA administration for Sumatra, under Allied military auspices, was formed within a few weeks of the surrender under Dr Beck and Resident Bruggemans, both brought from the Dutch camp at Rantau Prapat. On 3 October about sixty more key men from the pre-war administration were brought from the camp to Medan to begin to reconstruct the ancien regime.11 In the opinion of Brondgeest, 12 the tactlessness and arrogance of the most senior Dutch civilians belied official promises of a new type of Dutch-Indonesian relationship, and contributed much to the evaporation of goodwill towards Europeans after October.

The appointed leaders of the Republican Government in Sumatra, Mr Hasan and Dr Amir, returned to Medan on 28 August in a thoroughly demoralized mood. Having heard an exaggerated version of the Comite van Ontvangst story in Tarutung, Dr Amir's enthusiasm for the Republic turned very quickly to scepticism. The initial soundings the two men made among the Medan elite group convinced them that the politicians as well as the sultans wanted to avoid any step which would further prejudice their standing with the Japanese or the returning Allies. Unr like the position in Java, there appeared to be no mass or pemuda organio zations they could contact, BOMPA had dissolved itself on 23 August. Following this initial disillusion in early September, Amir did not return to Medan until about October 10. Mr Hasan kept the news of what had happened in Jakarta within a very small circle. On 15 September Dr Pirngadi received an indignant telegram from Dr A. K. Gani in Palembang, asking why no effect had been given by the two leaders to the Jakarta decisions. 13 This telegram appears to have circulated within the former BOMPA group and led to a second attempt by Hasan on 17 September to persuade them to form a K N I (Komite Nasional Indonesia) as decreed at the Jakarta meetings. Once again the fears of a colonial restoration were too strong. It was agreed only to form a Panitia Kebangsaan Sumatera Timur (the first two words of which have the same meaning as Komite Nasional, but from a Malay rather than a 'modern' Dutch root). The only significant decision of this committee was to establish a national bank from capital supplied by its members. 14 Following the 17 September meeting a more impatient group of politicians went to Tanjung Pura to see Dr Amir, who had been named 'Minister of State' in Sukarno's first cabinet. Amir took the view that he would support an independence proclamation by Hasan, but only

THE AGENTS OF REVOLUTION IN EAST SUMATRA

153

if some effective force could be mobilized to back it. 15 THE P E M U D A

MOBILIZE

The young Indonesians who had a measure of para-military training and organization from the Japanese period shared the general shock and disorientation following the news of surrender. The Giyugun, Heiho, and Kenkokutai had been disarmed and disbanded from about 16 August, long before they understood what was happening. But for those in Medan and the other sizeable towns there was no transport to take them back to their respective villages. Many of them joined the growing group of pathetic indigents displaced and then discarded by the Japanese occupation. They also became a primary target for the hostility of those who had suffered most under the Japanese. It was this situation which gave rise to the earliest organization. T o wards the end of August some of the ex-Giyugun officers contacted Xarim M. S., who had recruited many of them into the force and patronized them through BOMPA. Xarim was also the executor for former BOMPA property, which he now put at the disposal of the indigent Indonesian soldiers. A loose organization, Panitia Penolong Pengangguran Heiho dan Giyugun (Committee to help unemployed Heiho and Giyugun) was formed to organize the feeding of these men from BOMPA rice-stocks, and the housing of some of them at BOMPA headquarters. After this mild success, the Giyugun officers quickly formed a broader group, Persatuan Pemuda Latihan (Trained Youth Association), intended to embrace and defend all those who had received Japanese training as police or officials as well as soldiers against the accusation of being fascists and collaborators. Through such informal organizations Japanese-trained pemuda came together often to compare rumours about Allied intentions and developments in Java. 16 These youngsters with the greatest potential for military organization had very little contact either with the elite politicians or with the shadowy 'underground' groups which were equally unsure of their direction. Xarim M. S. was the link between all three elements, but perhaps for this very reason he acted with great caution in the first weeks following the surrender. Evidently only after A. K. Gani's September 15 telegram did he tell Abdul Razak, his principal pemuda assistant, about the growing Republican movement in Java. Razak and some of his ex-Giyugun colleagues immediately tried to contact Mr Hasan. Failing in that, they 1 went to Tanjung Pura on 19 September. From Dr Amir they at last learned what had taken place in Jakarta, and they promised to support any initiative the older leaders took to proclaim the Republic. 17 From this point the Japanese-trained pemuda appear to have accepted

154

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

their own responsibility to take some initiative in view of the dilatoriness of their elders. About 20 September the senior ex-Giyugun officer in Medan, First Lieutenant Ahmad Tahir, 18 began issuing invitations for a large pemuda meeting at former BOMPA headquarters in Jalan Istana. At this point they joined forces with another group of Japanesetrained pemuda, centred in the Asrama Rensheikei (on the site of the present Dirga Surya hotel). This was a Medan hostel for young Indonesians being trained in the Japanese vocational schools for police and administrators and in TALAPETA or Naga Huta agricultural schools. About fifty students were in residence, some of whom had recently also heard about the independence proclamation. When the Japanese forbade Tahir's meeting at Jalan Istana, the venue was quietly changed to the Asrama Rensheikei. On 23 September fifty-three pemuda gathered there, almost all of them from the two groupings of Japanese-trained young I!)

men There were, however, at least two men present, Nip Xarim and Marzuki Lubis, who had contact with 'underground' groups with some pre-war left-wing experience. There appear to have been two major centres for this underground activity about the time of the surrender. One was a predominantly Karo group which had been involved in Hatta and Sjahrir's PNI-baru before the war. Although they thought of themselves as nationalists rather than socialists, they had imbibed from the party a distrust of the Japanese and a tradition of underground cell organization. The leaders of this group—Selamat Ginting, Tama Ginting, and Rakuta in Tanah Karo; Egon in Medan—maintained contact in the last years of the war through a rice-distributing agency known as Pusat Usaha Ekonomi Rakyat (centre for promoting the people's economy). The group had some contact with Malaya-based Chinese underground groups, though none with Java. 20 The major coup of the whole so-called 'underground' (no more than a set of contacts at most) was the single-handed work of Selamat Ginting. Shortly before the surrender he hitched a ride on an ammunition truck and managed to kill the two unsuspecting Japanese soldiers in charge of it with a pistol he had stolen earlier. He buried what he could of this haul, notably a few score pistols and some ammunition, in a field near the spot. 21 The focus of another 'underground' network was Nathar Zainuddin, the veteran Islamic communist who had used his Kenpeitai privileges to build a network of Marxist and radical nationalist contacts which he called the 'Anti-Fascist Movement'. It included such communists as Urbanus Pardede, Bustami, and Joenoes Nasution, as well as the former PARPINDO leader Marzuki Lubis. The group certainly had

THE AGENTS OF REVOLUTION IN EAST SUMATRA

155

no contact with the Allies and little with underground Chinese groups, and the possibility cannot be ruled out that one or two Japanese officers knew and approved of Nathar's potentially anti-Dutch network. After the surrender this 'Anti-Fascist' group engaged in what it called 'gathering intelligence' and later in producing nationalist pamphlets. 22 The two 'underground' groups were in contact by the end of September, when Selamat Ginting was in Medan. He and Marzuki Lubis went together to Xarim M. S. to try to bluster him into greater activity. When they brandished their pistols he immediately asked whether they had more arms. The result was that about twenty pistols from Selamat's hideout were transferred to Xarim. During October they came to form the basis of the pasukan (unit) led by Xarim's son, Nip Xarim, which was loosely part of the 'Anti-Fascist' network. 23 The 23 September meeting therefore represented most active pemuda groups, whereas none of the older politicians invited put in an appearance. The meeting began with talk of forming another pemuda welfare organization, but was set on a firmly 'revolutionary' course by the more politicized/>e?MM
THE REPUBLIC PROCLAIMED pe/vvecoiou The BPI rally which eventually took place on 30 September was given additional urgency by the appearance of Medan's first independent newspaper the previous day. Mohammad Said had persuaded a nervous printer to come out with a cautious news-sheet named after the pre-war Pewarta Deli. Its first issue used an Australian broadcast based on a Dutch news-agency report, to the effect that Sukarno's house was under Allied guard. Taken to mean house arrest, this threw pemuda of the BPI and Nathar's group into a panic. Some of them visited Mohammad Said to demand explanations and sought out other leaders for information. One of the features of the following day's rally became a public

156

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE *-&JkJ^

apology by the editor for his 'provocative' report. The pemuda had made their first hostage among the older generation. 25 This incident raised the numbers as well as the temperature at the 30 September meeting. Close to 1,000 people attended. After Ahmad Tahir and Sugondo had explained the BPI, Mr Hasan outlined the strength of the Republic in Java, and called for support in Sumatra. But it was Xarim M. S. who gave the pemuda a sense of direction with a fiery speech taking issue, among other things, with Hasan's legalistic approach to the position of the Allies. The most magnetic speaker in East Sumatra, 26 the leading BOMPA propagandist, and the most distinguished revolutionary of the 1920s, Xarim established himself at this meeting as much the most influential of the older politicians. He was appointed to head an advisory council for the BPI. 27 Within a few days of this meeting BPI branches were formed in LangU kat, Asahan, and Karoland. In all the main towns young people began to sport a red and white flash on the chest and to propagate what they knew of the Republic. In Medan this process was very rapid. The older politicians, with Xarim now in the lead, could no longer ignore pemuda pressure. Whatever doubts Mr Hasan in particular felt about his position must have been resolved by the publicity given in Java on 1 October to the alleged 'de facto recognition' of the Republic by General Christison. 28 After another meeting of the Medan political elite to endorse his action, and an assurance from Nakashima that the Japanese would not interfere, M r Hasan began to issue decrees as Governor on 3 October. Among them were instructions to officials to follow the orders only of Republican authorities, and to stop work in all offices where the merah-putih could not be flown. Pemuda at several key offices were ready to carry out this instruction the following morning. At the Post Office, the railway station, and several other points the flag-raising presented few difficulties. A few of the British officers staying at the Hotel de Boer after parachuting into Medan even gave a wry cheer as the flag went up at the Post Office opposite. At the police headquarters there was an exchange of bluff between the Japanese in charge and the Indonesian policemen, who had retained their weapons after the surrender, before the merah-putih was allowed to remain. At the Balai Kota (town hall) Hayasaki was more determined, and seemed prepared to use troops to prevent the Hinomaru being lowered. Mr Luat Siregar, secondranking Indonesian in the city administration, then intervened to tell the pemuda he would set up a rival mayor's office in Jalan Istana. The Japanese-controlled Kita Sumatora Sinbun, which had continued as Soematera Baroe since September, appeared on 4 October as a Republican organ, Soeloeh Merdeka. Its first issue apologized to the pemuda for having injured nationalist feelings in the past, and on the other hand

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157

graciously thanked the Japanese staff it had just ousted. On the same day Hasan's Panitia Kebangsaan of 17 September met at last to declare itself a K N I and to elect Dr Soenario as chairman. 29 In most offices the raising of the flag was taken by Japanese department heads as the symbolic end of their functions. In almost every case they had already ceased to take an active interest in affairs after the surrender. Real armed resistance by Japanese to a takeover of offices by their Indonesian staff was very rare. The pemuda faced a more difficult task persuading senior Indonesian officials to defy the Japanese and the returning Dutch. Threats and occasional violence were necessary. But the week beginning 4 October did see most government offices rid of any effective Japanese control. Nominal Republican authority was accepted—enthusiastically by the young; fearfully by many older officials. The same week saw the rapid burgeoning of the pro-Republican movement beyond the ranks of the few hundred Japanese-trained youth active at the end of September. On 6 October the Republican flag was officially raised at a mass meeting on the city esplanade. Several thousand attended the speeches, but not as many as the 30,000 who had witnessed the traditional Malay ceremony to enthrone Tengku Otteman as the new Sultan of Deli the same morning, where Allied and Japanese representatives had been given more prestigious places than the Republican Governor. 30 Three days later, however, a massive march in support of the Republic wound through Medan's streets, with over 100,000 reportedly taking part. 31 With this the initiative in Medan passed decisively to the Republic. The fifty or more Dutch officials who had been freely moving about the city since 3 October in an attempt to re-assert control over its installations were suddenly confined to the Beatrix-school, their temporary hostel, on the day of the march. Westerling's men mounted guard over them. The Indonesian colleagues and friends who up to then had been freely visiting the Dutch suddenly stopped coming. 32 In East Sumatra as a whole the Republic was still very tenuous. Outside the towns the effective administration was that of the kerajaan, particularly after the unifying Japanese element withdrew in early October. With these separate royal administrations the Republic could attempt no more than a liaison function, at which they suffered an initial disadvantage in relation to the Dutch. During September the sultans, like most others, had assumed that Dutch power was returning and would have to be placated for the events of the Japanese period. Langkat and Deli had been quick to co-operate with Brondgeest. After the proclamation of the Republic the rajas generally attempted to retreat to a more cautious wait-and-see policy. But there was no hiding the Dutch

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

sympathies and friendships of men like Datuk Djamil and Tengku Musa, secretaries to the sultans of Langkat and Asahan respectively. The new Sultan of Deli hastened to send a secret message of loyalty to the Dutch Queeni 33 ) The most important politician in the ranks of the kerajaan, Dr Mansur, decided against active co-operation with the Republic. Even the new K N I , still attempting like the Japanese bodies it supplanted to represent all sections of East Sumatra society, was unable to take any effective action in the political sphere because of the opposition of kerajaan representatives. 34

THE ALLIED

O.

LANDINGS,

AND

VIOLENCE

A brigade of the 26th Indian Division, about 5,000 strong, under the command of Brigadier-General T . E. D . Kelly, began disembarkation at BelawanJ on 10 October. The build-up was not completed until 5 November, after which date the British established small garrisons at Binjai and Brastagi beside the main force in Medan. The earlier landings in Java had already shown the difficulty of reconciling the demands of the Dutch with the very limited resources and objectives of the British. The pre-arranged terms for the Allied military administration of Indonesia had been worked out during 1944-5 for Sumatra, which until June 1945 was the only part of Indonesia falling under Mountbatten's South-East Asia Command (SEAC). The agreement was extended to the rest of Indonesia on 15 August. It provided that the Allied (British) commanders would not formally assume authority so as not to undermine Dutch sovereignty. They would simply announce their intention to release prisoners-of-war, repatriate Japanese, and maintain law and order until the lawful Government could again function. Nevertheless there would be a preliminary stage in the occupation, while order was being established, when the Dutch officials of the Netherlands Indies Civil Administration (NICA) would be fully subordinate to Allied military authority, and act only through it. 35 Developments during September had already made plain to Mountbatten and his commander for the Netherlands East Indies, Lt.-Gen. Christison, that the British troops available for Java and Sumatra, even after expansion from one to three brigades, could not expect to do more than hold the major cities. Beyond this, Japanese and Indonesian authority had to be relied upon to maintain order. Mountbatten's policy therefore had to adjust to eliciting co-operation from the Republic, while at the same time assuring the Dutch that no recognition of the Republic was implied. The angry Dutch reaction to Christison's 29 September statement ensured that Brigadier Kelly would be particularly sensitive on the latter part of his programme.

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For his part Mr Hasan followed the official Republican policy of co-operating with the Allies in their stated tasks, though without the personal pleasure which Dr Amir or Mr Joesoef had from their British contacts. Among his first official decrees was the instruction to all Sumatrans, 'especially pemuda . . . not to disturb the peace of Japanese, Allies, Chinese or Dutch'. 3 6 Towards the Dutch his opening statement was very firm: The Dutch would be mistaken if they thought that the situation now was still the same as the old pre-war spirit. The Dutch would be better not to seek ways and look for agents to reoccupy Indonesia as this would disturb the state of public peace, because the Indonesian people in general and Indonesian pemuda in particular regard those Dutch agents as traitors. Therefore such an attempt on their part would seriously endanger the safety of the Dutch themselves and their agents. Particularly if any Indonesian leader was injured on this account, the probability is very great that the Dutch and their agents would be purged from society.37 Despite the promises of some pemuda to bathe in blood before allowing the Allied forces to land, 38 there was no initial opposition or even contact from the Indonesian side. Official Republican policy was being heeded. Nevertheless, violence began very soon after the Allied landings just as it did in Java. The pemuda may have felt that the initiative was falling from their hands after a heroic beginning and that action was necessary to avoid a sense of defeat. Indonesian accounts also suggest that arrogance and provocation from the Dutch side increased immediately after the Allied landings. The flashpoint in Medan was the former Pensiun Wilhelmina, opposite the Central Market in Jalan Bali, which was used as a hostel and centre for Westerling's ex-KNiL Ambonese. On the morning of Saturday 13 October 39 an angry crowd began to gather outside this spot, reportedly after one of the Ambonese sentries had torn off and trampled on the red-white emblem worn by a child. A fight began, knives were drawn and several were wounded. During the fighting two Dutchmen fired into the crowd from a passing car, killing an Indonesian. Japanese troops quickly arrived to restore order and were joined by the BPI ex-military group under Ahmad Tahir, then in the process of transforming itself into the Republican armed force. They eventually succeeded in calming the crowd, with the promise that the Ambonese would be removed from the building as quickly as possible. In the meantime the Japanese took away a quantity of arms from the building and posted a guard at the gate. T h e crowd dispersed at 1.30 p.m., leaving only two Indonesians and one Ambonese woman dead. Less than two hours later, however, the pemuda returned in strength to attack the Jalan Bali hostel (and other vulnerable Ambonese), leaving

fiotfauX-

160 \J

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

Id flftuhdUHjU^',

six killed and about 100 wounded among the Ambonese and Menadonese. The Dutchman in charge of the hostel was also killed, and a Swiss family gratuitously murdered.40 The tide of pemuda violence spread almost immediately to Pematang Siantar. A five-man detachment of Brondgeest's Dutch soldiers was billeted at the Siantar Hotel to attempt to check defections from the large Japanese troop concentration there. On 15 October fighting developed between the pemuda and these Dutchmen, with the result that the Siantar Hotel was beseiged and then burned. All the Dutch soldiers died, except for the officer-in-charge who was reporting back to Medan. Also killed were about ten Ambonese, two pemuda on the Republican side, and four Swiss who managed the hotel.41 To Europeans in East Sumatra these two incidents represented the beginnings of the terror. Brondgeest angrily demanded that the Allies send troops to Siantar. After a brief investigation Kelly refused, preferring to concentrate his meagre resources in Medan.42 'Neutral' Europeans and those who had left the camps fled to Medan, where the Allies gradually established a 'pj^te^ted_zqne' in the triangle formed by the airport and the Deli and Babura rivers. Brigadier Kelly summoned Mr Hasan, Dr Amir, Mr Luat Siregar, and other Republican leaders on 14 October to discuss means to maintain order. As in Java earlier, such a meeting necessarily implied a degree of recognition of Republican authority, however much this principle was denied. At a Press Conference on 17 October, his first public appearance since being appointed a cabinet minister, Dr Amir announced that the Allies had recognized Luat as mayor, with responsibility for order and for public services within Medan.43 Dutch protests must have been immediate—Brondgeest had wanted to arrest Hasan, Amir, and others.44 Brigadier Kelly had to repudiate any inference that his dealings with Luat constituted recognition of the Republic.45 Hasan promised to co-operate with the limited Allied objectives defined, and in the following days he issued a number of strongly-worded if ineffective warnings to the pemuda against unauthorized attacks and seizure of property. Kelly's initial policy was to hold the Republican authorities and police responsible for incidents in the city, and to try to use their influence to disarm pemuda. On 18 October he announced that 'all weapons, whether firearms, spears or daggers' would be surrendered to British troops in Medan, and followed this with a series of raids on pemuda headquarters in various parts of the city.46 After consultation with General Chambers in Padang, Kelly also disarmed and disbanded the Ambonese force of Brondgeest and Westerling on 26 October. Control of Medan now became a British responsibility, though the Republican authorities were frequently consulted. The &oL CO^O^UM^

?

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161

Dutch detainees remaining in camps outside Medan were again guarded by Japanese rather than by Brondgeest's men.47 The Dutch were furious. The group of Dutch commandos originally parachuted into Sumatra as part of ADCS soon withdrew to Jakarta, complaining they could achieve nothing more. Only Westerling remained behind at Kelly's request to put his terrorist tactics to work for the British.48 PEMUDA IN

ARMS

The violence of the Jalan Bali affair also wrought enormous changes in the pemuda movement, and an upsurge of enthusiasm to participate in the struggle. The period of watching and waiting seemed at last to be over. The role of semi-militarized young men left high and dry at the Japanese surrender was now clear. There was a rush to join some pasukan dedicated to defending the Republic; to find some weapon of whatever sort; to forge new bonds of kinship in struggle in place of traditional ties. A new kind of leadership was also called forth. What was needed now was not so much fine words as physical courage, decisiveness, and loyalty to the group, the pasukan. This enthusiasm came at the right time for the TKR (Tentera Keamanan Rakyat—People's Security Army), designated as the official armed force of the Republic on 5 October. East Sumatra had been slow to produce a local wing of this army, let alone its predecessor the BKR. Only on 10 October did a meeting of the BPI in Medan decide to form a Pucuk Pimpinan TKR (TKR top leadership) from among its leading ex-Giyugun members. Each officer rose one rank from his Japanese level. Ahmad Tahir became commander with Captain rank, and Soetjipto Chief-of-Staff and 1st Lieutenant. Several of the other leading Giyugun officers were sent to recruit their own former soldiers and anyone else with military training in their respective centres. Captain Hopman Sitompoel began to recruit pemuda in Siantar, Lt. Martinus Lubis in Brastagi, and Lt. Djamin Gintings in Kabanjahe. The first major task of the Pucuk Pimpinan TKR in Medan was to attempt to provide military training for the hundreds of pemuda who demanded it as a result of the Jalan Bali violence. The original plan of basing the TKR solely on trained Giyugun and Heiho soldiers was seen to be unrealistic because of the dispersion of most of them in villages throughout East Sumatra. Only Medan and some other major towns offered the opportunity and the means for organized armed struggle. Beginning on 23 October, at eight centres in different parts of Medan, Japanese-trained lieutenants began a two-week programme of drilling pemuda with wooden sticks instead of rifles. As a result of this training programme four TKR pasukan emerged

.(V

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

in the Medan area during November, still with virtually no arms. Whether the pasukan were nearer to companies or battalions did not yet seem important. Each answered to the leadership of an ex-Giyugun officer, and possessed a little more discipline than the non-TKR pasukan. With the three pasukan separately formed in Siantar, Brastagi, and Kabanjahe, these were constituted during November the IVth Division of the Sumatra T K R , all under the command of twenty-three-year-old Captain Tahir. Because of its 'official' character, its contact through Xarim M. S. with Republican leaders, and the Japanese training of its leaders, the T K R did not need to resort to plunder. A younger brother of Sutan Sjahrir, Mahruzar, was designated by Mr Hasan and Xarim to find the necessary funds for the T K R through taking over Japanese warehouses. Yet despite these advantages even the T K R attracted a number of those accustomed to violence in the semi-criminal Medan underworld. 49 The T K R pasukan were in any case quickly outnumbered by other fighting gangs of all sorts, sometimes comprising youths of the same ethnic group or the same part of the city, but defined by loyalty to one forceful figure who showed his decisiveness at a critical moment. The symbol of authority was always the pistol. 'At that time no pasukan commander felt sufficiently dashing and fierce without a pistol at his waist.' 50 The strongest of these fighting bands were built from the various pemuda groups already active before the Jalan Bali affair. Nathar Zainuddin's 'Anti-Fascist' group, for example, had declared itself Nationale Controle about the time BPI was formed, and had been active distributing pamphlets. After Jalan Bali one of its principal figures, Marzuki Lubis, emerged as leader of a pasukan called Pelopor (vanguard). Timur Pane, a petty criminal before the war, also had some connexion with Nationale Controle. His predominantly Toba-Batak pasukan was one of those which showed more enterprise in plundering wealthy Chinese and Indians than in confronting the Dutch. A third Nationale Controle figure was Nip Xarim, twenty-four-year-old son of Xarim M . S., who under the Japanese had been a junior journalist in the Medan mayor's office. As a result of the guns collected by his father from Selamat Ginting his pasukan was better armed than any T K R unit in Medan. Though in a potentially strong political position, Nip Xarim preferred to see himself as part of the T K R than as the arm of any party. When the Division IV structure was established on 5 November, he was designated head of its armament section. His unit was affiliated with the T K R on a special footing, and became known as TKR-B. 5 1 Another pemuda group with a shadowy existence prior to the Jalan Bali violence was the Badan Kebaktian Pemuda Indonesia (Indonesian

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163

Youth Loyalty Body) or BKPI. This appears to have been formed in reaction to BPI in late September by pemuda who had no particular connexion with the Japanese. Among its leaders was Sarwono S. Soetardjo, a young Taman Siswa teacher who had been active before the war in the Sabang branch of PARINDRA. During October Sarwono emerged as the head of one of the strongest fighting gangs in the city centre, which he called Gagak Hitam (black crow). 52 At the ground level, the effective picture of Medan after mid-October was of numerous gangs of this type, each attempting to control a different part of the city, with whatever resources they could command there. The T K R pasukan were part of this pattern, though at one end of the spectrum in terms of discipline, acceptance of 'official' Republican control, and orderly means of meeting their material needs. At the opposite extreme were a number of robber bands profiting from the revolutionary label and the demoralization of police to take what they needed, especially from Chinese and Indians. Some of the political leaders attempted to use these violent men to extend their influence, as Sarwono did with a well-known criminal Amat Bojan: ' In the beginning Sarwono's intention in getting together Amat Bojan and his hoodlum friends was to use them as his fighting unit. But it turned out that Amat Bojan was still Amat Bojan, and could not shed his old habits, especially when there was such opportunity. Amat Bojan's unit became a band of gangsters, plundering the homes of Chinese, and violating women . .. until there was no order in Medan. 53 Amat Bojan was eventually killed by members of a more disciplined gang. The relatively coherent pemuda leadership provided initially by the BPI broke down as a result of the Jalan Bali affair. The majority of those with military training had their hands full organizing the T K R . The remaining 'civilian' leadership broke up under the pressures of violence. As BPI President Sugondo attempted in vain to prevent the pemuda attacks on the afternoon of 13 October. At a subsequent meeting he is said to have collapsed when some of the militants threatened to shoot him. This ended the direct involvement of established political figures in the pemuda movement. 54 A confused period followed, in which the only effective leadership of the BPI was that of some of the fighting units which associated themselves with it. During late October and November clashes between these gangs were a frequent occurrence, whether caused by conflicts of territory, of personality, or of ethnic composition. Whatever rivalries existed were sedulously fostered by Lt. Westerling who, to judge from his memoirs, made no distinction between moderate and extreme elements. His object was to distract

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

attention from the manoeuvres of his own men by stoking internecine pemuda quarrels: I . . . proceeded to dictate a few violently insulting notes which were turned into the native tongue and delivered to the different bands, as if they had been sent to them by their rivals. . . . In no time at all a lively civil war was going on among the guerrillas.55 A degree of superficial unity was eventually restored to the Medan pemuda movement through the efforts of Xarim M . S . , Nathar Zainuddin, and the senior remaining official of the original BPI, Abdul Malik Munir. The central elements in the early BPI and Sarwono's BPKI fused to form PRI (Pemuda Republik Indonesia) at the end of October, imitating the title of the best-known youth group in West Sumatra and in Java. Another stimulus to unity was the Yogyakarta youth congress of 10 November which produced the merger of Java's strongest urban youth groups into PESINDO (Pemuda Sosialis Indonesia). The groups which had formed PRI in Medan called themselves PESINDO from 16 November, aspiring to share the sense of unity and direction which the movement in Java appeared to possess. Although there were few Japanese-trained youth in its leadership, PESINDO in Sumatra was slow to acquire the left-wing 'anti-fascist' political colour which Amir Sjarifuddin gave it in Java. It regarded itself, initially, as the legitimate and all-embracing Republican youth movement. Its leadership, however, was in disarray. Sarwono's Gagak Hitam had declared itself the Barisan Pengawal (guard unit) of P R I / P E S I N D O , and became the strongest single force within it in the strategic Medan area. During December Sarwono became the chairman of PESINDO Sumatra, and succeeded in dividing Medan into eight sectors, 'each containing a group of about thirty ruffians known as the Pelopor [shock troops] who are responsible for the more violent crimes committed in that area', as a British report put it. 56 There were many pasukan, particularly outside Medan and among the groups trained by the Japanese, who did not accept Sarwono's lead and took little part in PESINDO decision-making. It was not until January that the growth of political parties provided some political legitimation for their differences. Accusations that the rival gang was secretly an instrument of the Dutch were always a factor in the constant conflicts between pasukan in East Sumatra. There was an element of truth in the accusations in respect of at least one force which rejoiced in the peculiarly appropriate title Pasukan V (Fifth Column). The elderly Maharadja Soangkoepon had established it as a 'moderating' force late in September, after consultation with a British ADCS officer. It was predominately Toba Batak, although it also had a base of support among victims of the aron in

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Karoland. Its first leader was a pre-war Batak police officer, Sihite. Pasukan V was caught up with other pemuda in the Jalan Bali fighting and a number of clashes with British troops. It quickly affiliated with BPI and its successors PRI and PESINDO. In the street-fighting of October/November there was in practice nothing 'moderate' about it. Nevertheless it remained associated both with Soangkoepon's resentment of the newcomer Governor Hasan and his Acehnese bodyguard, and with long-standing ethnic hostilities between Toba Bataks and Muslim groups in Medan. In the 'civil war' encouraged by Westerling, Pasukan V appears to have been the principal victim. Other PESINDO units accused it of having a suspicious amount of money and equipment, perhaps from the Allies; of running its own vegetable-carrying business from Karoland; of truculence towards other pasukan; and of planning 'to make a proposal to the President of- the Republic that Mr Teuku Hasan be replaced by Maharadja Soangkoepon'. 57 The leaders of Pasukan V were seized in mid-December and taken to Brastagi, where Sihite was shot. The others were eventually released, including Dr Nainggolan, who with his ex-Giyugun son Boyke Nainggolan now became the most influential leader of Pasukan V. Nainggolan was genuinely anti-Dutch, but remained deeply suspicious of the revolutionary pemuda leadership. 58 Gradually Pasukan V assumed the form of a conservative 'opposition' within the Republican camp. In January it established contacts with some of the Malay youth groups which had begun to reform in opposition to Inoue's Kenkokutai out of the original PADI (Persatuan Anak Deli Islam) established in 1939-42. Some of the PADI pemuda had also taken part in the Jalan Bali fighting, but like Pasukan V they took fright at the revolutionary direction in which the mainstream pemuda movement was heading, PADI increasingly concentrated on drilling its forces, allegedly 5,000 strong, to defend the kerajaan status quo. Sunggal, the centre of the aron in 1942, was particularly polarized. Datuk Itam, the sultan's representative there, obtained arms and training for his 800 Malay youths by joining Pasukan V directly. Relations between Pasukan V and the remainder of PESINDO continued to be tense. 59

CONFRONTING THE BRITISH NOVEMBER-DECEMBER

AND JAPANESE, 1945

Because of the Allied presence in Medan, closer control was exercised over Japanese weapons in the vicinity than in remoter areas such as Aceh. Until late November 1945 the pemuda of East Sumatra were armed with only a few pistols and rifles, and for the rest made do with parang and bamboo spears. They were in no position to fight any pitched

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

battles with Allied troops even had they been disposed to do so. During November there was a rapid rise in anti-British sentiment on the part of pemuda, mainly as a result of the publicity given to the Surabaya fighting from November 10. In late November and the first half of December this sentiment gave rise to a series of skirmishes with British troops. The same period also saw a peak in the number of clashes with Japanese troops, as pemuda attempted to seize from isolated Japanese units the weapons they needed to resist the British. i The greater success in acquiring Japanese weapons in late November was mainly a product of increasing pemuda determination, but the Republicans were also assisted by a rising number of Japanese defectors motivated by personal ties and loyalties, fear of Allied retribution, or a desire to continue the war in a new form. The Japanese reported 163 defectors in East Sumatra at the end of 1945, though a later Indonesian count of 350 seems closer to the true figure. The most senior was Inoue, who believed there would still be an important role for him in guiding his TALAPETA trainees. These Japanese defectors brought some arms with them, and assisted pemuda to locate and seize more by a combination of bravado and negotiation.60 The first major coup was the work of PESINDO at the Mariendal plantation on the outskirts of Medan. The Japanese air force had stored a large quantity of aircraft parts and weapons in the tobacco sheds, guarded by only twenty-one Japanese. Following lengthy negotiations with the lieutenant in charge, the PESINDO youths surrounded the Japanese on 22 November and tied them all up after a mock fight in which nobody was hurt. Throughout the night pemuda and the surrounding villagers carried off arms, bullets, and a vast quantity of textiles to their respective homes, without any real co-ordination. When the following day a Japanese force was sent to Mariendal by the Allies to recover the arms, most of them were well hidden. Once again 'diplomasi' succeeded in inducing the unenthusiastic Japanese force to release the nine PESINDO hostages they had taken without having obtained in return 34 machine guns, 24 rifles, and a large quantity of ammunition which the Allies had insisted on recovering. Some of the arms ultimately reached the hands of the TKR; the rest remained with PESINDO or whatever other pasukan or individual had seized them at the time. Nip Xarim's TKR 'B', which moved its base on 10 November to Two Rivers Estate, a few miles south of Medan, obtained a large quantity of arms a few weeks later. After an abortive attack on a Japanese armoury at Bekalla on 7 December, negotiations began with the Japanese commander through the mediation of a prominent Japanese defector. The Japanese commander eventually promised to hand over enough rifles and ammunition to equip a full company, as well as mortars

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and machine guns. The promise was made good a few days later, from a Japanese reserve supply near Siantar not yet known to the Allies. 61 Incidents of this kind occurred throughout East Sumatra during December. In the Siantar region in particular, where Japanese strength was concentrated with relatively less control by the Allies, a large quantity of arms reached the T K R . Another channel was the harbour at Belawan, where the Allies had instructed the Japanese to jettison unwanted weapons in deep water after taking them to pieces. T h e Japanese in charge of the operation managed to slip about 200 of these rifles to the T K R during December rather than jettison them. Moreover as soon as the operation was complete Indonesian divers began to retrieve the parts from the seabed, and a lively market sprang up in salvaged and reconstructed weapons. The 'syndicate' in charge of the salvage operation would sell to anyone and most of these arms probably went to the Republic. A considerable quantity of arms also reached the East Sumatran pemuda from Aceh by way of barter. Finally the British Indian soldiers who began to desert to the Republican side in 1946 out of sympathy with the anti-colonial cause often brought British weapons with them. 62 T h e first major clash with the British occurred not in Medan but in Karoland, where a healthy disrespect for Western colonial authority had never died. A small British unit had been posted to Brastagi about the second week in November, as an advance party in case the 4th Indian Infantry Brigade in Medan was sent on a sweep through the interior to Padang. On 25 November a few men from Medan visited the Brastagi detachment, and they appear to have become involved in a raid on PESINDO headquarters and some skirmishing with pemuda there. The Karo population was immediately up in arms. The small British party was ambushed outside Brastagi on its return journey and attacked with rifles, spears, blowpipes, and parang. The process was repeated at two points further down the road. The British eventually fought their way through to Medan with the loss of two men and some equipment. 63 This affair led to the immediate withdrawal of the British detachment in Brastagi and the abandonment of plans to patrol outside the Medan area. It must have influenced the decision taken during Sir Philip Christison's visit to Sumatra (26-27 November) that civil government in Sumatra would for the time being be a Japanese responsibility outside the three cities occupied by the Allies. This decision was conveyed to Republican leaders in Medan on 1 December, explicitly reversing the de facto recognition which the Republic had earlier appeared to enjoy. It brought Japanese and Indonesians into serious collision in several areas, and contributed to the rapid deterioration of British-Indonesian relations in Medan. 64 In the week beginning 6 December the British made a series of sys-

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tematic raids on pemuda headquarters to seize weapons and arrest leaders accused of terrorism. For the first time they began to meet real resistance and to experience counter-attacks on British troops. Nine European civilians were killed during the ensuing two weeks after a lull since the mid-October violence. The heaviest fighting occurred to the south of Medan on 10 December when the British attempted to recover a captured armoured car and three soldiers from Delitua. They encountered strong resistance from the TKR, TKR 'B', and other pasukan, and some of their raiding parties suffered heavy casualties. The whole British force had to withdraw the same day without fulfilling its objectives.65 This was the first pitched battle in which pemuda used their newly acquired weapons and it confirmed Indonesian determination to restrict the Allied operations to Medan. The British appear to have accepted this message, with the exception of Westerling's vicious commando operations against individual gangs of the more criminal type.66 On 13 December Kelly defined an area 8 | km. beyond the Medan and Belawan city boundaries, within which anyone carrying arms would be shot on sight.67 Within these limits the 26th Indian Division became very tough with 'extremists', as they called the pemuda bands. Beyond them, they appear to have put pressure on the Japanese to take reprisals against pemuda who had attacked or disarmed them. Up to this point Japanese reaction had been consistently mild. At the highest level Japanese commanders had made tacit or explicit agreements with the Republic that arms would be surrendered to avoid a fight. Even the killing of one or two Japanese soldiers was no obstacle to the peaceful surrender of arms by dispirited Japanese troops. However some pemuda did not know where to stop. Tebing Tinggi, a particularly unstable town, saw the worst atrocities. As the centre for an important rice and vegetable producing area, it experienced a constant influx of traders and hungry individuals during 1945. Already in the late occupation period it had been the centre for a Muslim-based anti-Japanese movement.68 There was, moreover, no moderating TKR or ex-Giyugun element among its youth. The Japanese complained that forty of their men had been killed or captured in the area up to 10 December. On 11 December, pemuda blocked in Tebing Tinggi a train carrying a large number of Japanese civil officials, with a sizeable armed guard, from Medan to a camp in Kisaran. When the usual negotiations for arms failed, the pemuda threatened not to release the four Japanese who had come to negotiate nor to allow the train to leave unless their demands were fully met. All the arms on the Japanese train were then handed over, but three Japanese hostages including a Captain Namara were nevertheless killed. This was too much for the

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Japanese, especially after having been pressed by the Allies to take action against 'extremists'. As they were preparing counter-measures the Tebing Tinggi pemuda cut off the following day's train as well, killing some more Japanese and a Danish missionary who carried a pass from the Republican Resident. On the 13th, over a thousand Japanese troops with tanks took savage reprisals against Tebing Tinggi on orders from General Sawamura. For four days they engaged in wholesale slaughter by no means limited to pemuda. A Dutch estimate presumably based on the Japanese count put the figure of dead at 500-800, but all Indonesian accounts and that of a Swiss Red Cross official agree there were between 2,000 and 5,000 victims.69 The severity of these clashes forced both British and Republicans to the negotiating table. Immediately after Mr Hasan's return from Aceh on 17 December he was summoned to talks with Brigadier Kelly I about the deteriorating situation. On 26 December General Chambers, British Commander for Sumatra, had a more productive conference with Mr Hasan and Mr Mohammad Joesoef, the Republican mayor of Medan. Chambers gave tacit recognition to the TKR, now 'permitted to bear any arms they already happen to possess outside the key areas under British control'. Having disarmed the Medan police a month earlier the British now agreed to issue seventy weapons to a reconstituted Indonesian force for the city. Chambers undertook that the British and Japanese would not interfere in civil matters unless peace was seriously disturbed. In return Hasan promised to end an Indonesian embargo on services and supplies for the Allies.70 Hasan was able to present this as a further recognition of the Republic, and to impress upon pemuda the need to show responsibility vis-a-vis the British. His efforts bore considerable fruit, and not for several months was there a renewal of violence comparable to the level of early December. From direct confrontation with Allies and Japanese the revolution now turned inwards. Pemuda and radical energies were directed to such objectives as gaining control of plantations and other sources of wealth, and confronting conservative or unpopular elements within Indonesian society. THE REPUBLIC AND THE KERAJAAN Throughout this period the Republican government of Mr Hasan was effectively limited to a liaison function between the Japanese, the British, and the kerajaan on one side, and the fighting pemuda on the other. Hasan enjoyed loyal support from his very capable secretary, Mas Tahir,71 his experienced colleague in the Governor's office before

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

and during the Japanese occupation, and from an Acehnese bodyguard of young men. He had, however, neither charisma nor a direct link with any substantial pemuda force. His major assets were the prestige which the idea of the Republican government held for pemuda, and the conditional support of Xarim M. S., much the most influential political figure in Medan. These gave Hasan at least a degree of moral influence over pemuda leaders. Since there appeared to be nobody else either the British or the sultans could hold responsible for terrorism, the Repub. lican leadership gained an increasing degree of recognition. Outside the pemuda-dommated. towns, the machinery of government remained in the hands of the kerajaan. As the son of an Acehnese uleebalang Hasan well understood the dilemma of rulers caught between pemuda pressures and contractual as well as emotional ties to the Dutch. His sympathies as well as his political sense suggested a conciliatory policy of wooing rather than threatening the rajas. His early government appointments were all made with an eye to drawing the kerajaan around to the Republic's side. In the initial appointments he announced on 4 October, Mr Hasan accepted the fait accompli of Mr Luat Siregar as Republican mayor of Medan. As Resident of East Sumatra he appointed Siregar's war-time superior in the Medan municipality, M r Mohammad Joesoef, a moderate nationalist with few enemies who seemed likely to be acceptable to both Japanese and British. These were the only Republican appointments for the Residency until 29 October, when a PRI mass meeting demanded 'that the civilian government of the Indonesian Republic in East Sumatra be made effective in the fullest sense as quickly as possible'. 72 Hasan then attempted to bring the functioning kerajaan government under the Republican umbrella. As Resident of East Sumatra he chose Tengku Hafas, who had been prominent in early 1945 as koseikyoku-cho. Although of no great status in the national movement, Hafas was one of the few experienced kerajaan administrators willing to serve the Re. public actively and overtly. His task was to induce the rajas to place themselves behind the Republic rather than in opposition to it. At the same time Hasan appointed as wakil pemerintah NRI (representatives of the government of the Indonesian Republic) the same kerajaan stalwarts who had been appointed fuku-bunshucho by the Japanese in July/ August. 73 For both Madja Poerba 74 in Simalungun and Ngeradjai Meliala in Karoland the Republican title undoubtedly strengthened their authority over the weak Korte Verklaring rajas in their districts. It was otherwise with wakil pemerintah in the major Malay sultanates. Tengku Musa in Asahan and Tengku Amir Hamzah in Langkat did not decline their Republican appointments, but continued to operate as officials

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of the kerajaan. The Deli sultanate was in a position to deal directly with British, Dutch, and Republican leaders in Medan without resort to the former clerk, Tulus, appointed wakil pemerintah there. T h e relationship between Republic and kerajaan would be decided not by such appointments but by the power situation on the ground. The appointment of Tengku Hafas released M r Mohammad Joesoef, whom Hasan was anxious to use in the key role of mayor of Medan. Effective Allied recognition of this office created a need for a more moderate and experienced figure than Luat Siregar, able to negotiate with the British. This change was made in early November. Luat Siregar joined Xarim M. S. and the 'elder statesman' Soangkoepon with the rank of Resident attached directly to the Governor's staff.75 In Xarim and Luat Mr Hasan hoped to retain a direct channel of influence on pemuda while the conservatism of his other appointments was calculated to appeal to the Allies and the kerajaan. In numerous statements Republican leaders emphasized that they recognized the autonomy of the rajas as Sukarno had recognized the rulers of Surakarta and Yogyakarta. Every meeting of the sultans with Republican leaders and organizations was publicized, and every royal gesture in the Republic's direction exaggerated into an indication of support. This policy bore some fruit in the maintenance of formally correct relations between the palaces and the Republic. But the mounting strength of the pemuda movement made the coolness and caution of the rajas less and less acceptable. Growing cohesion in the ranks of the militant pemuda brought new pressures on the sultans at the end of November. We have seen the attempts of Xarim M. S. to restore coherent leadership to P R I / P E S INDO under Sarwono S. Soetardjo. Working in the background, Xarim's communist colleague Nathar Zainuddin extended this work by the creation of a Markas Agung (supreme headquarters) to co-ordinate revolutionary action in the Medan area. It was again headed by Sarwono, but included representatives of the T K R (Tahir and Sitompoel) and all the former members of Nathar's 'Anti-Fascist' underground who now had their own fighting groups—Marzuki Lubis, Nip Xarim, Selamat Ginting, D. Egon, and Timur Pane. Six older 'advisers' were listed, of whom four (Xarim, Nathar, Joenoes Nasution, and Bustami) were founder members of the revived communist party. The remaining advisers were 'non-party' legal officers who had shown sympathy for the pemuda cause. 76 T h e Markas Agung was for some time an ideal instrument through which Nathar Zainuddin in particular could direct pemuda action towards particular targets. 'This Markas Agung had great influence, and the government itself was often dictated to by those who sat within it.' Sarwono explained to one writer that it interfered in the

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

government 'because there were still many suspicious elements in the ranks of officials'.77 Immediately following the formation of this radical front there was a sudden increase in pemuda pressure on the sultans. On 30 November the Sultan of Langkat received an ultimatum from PESINDO demanding immediate recognition of the Republic, termination of all contacts with the British and NICA, and the handing over of two-thirds of his weapons to PESINDO. After a vain attempt to appeal to Governor Hasan the Sultan capitulated. On 4 December the Republican press published his expression of support and added that he had donated 10,000 guilders to the cause. From then on he no longer dared have any direct dealings with Dutch representatives. The Sultans of Serdang and Asahan were reported at the same time to have raised the merahputih and pledged support. Only the new Sultan of Deli, Osman (Otteman), could still expect Allied protection for his palace in Medan. He continued to treat the Republic with royal aloofness, while arguing with Dutch representatives that even their constitutional proposals threatened to place him under 'Javanese domination'. What he sought was a direct relationship with the Dutch crown under a High Commissioner, placing the Malay rulers outside any form of Indonesian state. In mid-December the sultan retired for a week in hospital, 'not so much as a patient as to be free for a while from the red-and-whites who make his life intolerable'. 78 The datuks of Deli, more exposed than he to pemuda pressure, took advantage of his absence to recognize the Republic officially.79

THE FORMATION

OF POLITICAL

PARTIES

The formation of a multiplicity of political parties within the Republic was authorized in a decree signed by Mohammad Hatta on 3 November 1945, 'because with such parties every current of thought which exists in society can be guided into an orderly path'. 80 In Java as in Sumatra the thrust of the early revolution came from fighting youth groups with no common aim save to struggle against the enemies of the Republic. T h e eventual formation of political parties provided a means for elite politicians to acquire leverage over these pasukan, and to mediate between them and the Republican government. East Sumatra continued, however, to be peculiarly resistant to this process of channelling pemuda energies. Pasukan did affiliate with parties in the long run, but in most cases without surrendering their freedom to carry on the struggle as they thought best. The first party in the field was the 'PNI State Party' launched by the revolutionary leaders in Jakarta on 22 August. Dr A. K. Gani was appointed to lead it in Sumatra. Nine days later the state party was

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suspended as impracticable by the central government, and its representational functions were transferred to a system of Komite Nasional Indonesia (KNI) in each locality. This change appears not to have been understood in Sumatra. Gani continued to act in the name of the P N I State Party, appointing Xarim M. S. as its deputy-leader for Sumatra. When Jacub Siregar and Saleh Oemar reached Palembang on their flight from Medan they were also directed into the P N I , in contrast to former GERINDO members in Java who tended to follow Amir Sjarifuddin into the Socialist Party. Saleh Oemar returned to Medan and began to inject some life into the P N I as head of its East Sumatra branch from early November. The P N I was therefore off to an early but ambiguous start. Its vision of itself as a 'state party' faded only very gradually and reluctantly. As late as the end of November Sukarno was being claimed as 'Great Leader' of the party, and his 23 August speech in support of it was used as though it still applied. 81 Moreover the greatest single asset of the 'state party' in East Sumatra was Xarim M. S., who decided to launch a separate communist party (PKI) in mid-November. His defection threw the P N I into some confusion, and it was only on 14 December that a P N I meeting demanded he choose between the P N I and PKI. 8 2 Not until January was the P N I able to recover fully from this blow and realize the potential it had as heir to the PNI/PARTINDO/GERINDO mainstream of pre-war nationalism in the area. On 18 November 'some former P K I members' met in Medan to elect an executive for the communist party in Sumatra. They must have been influenced by the announcement on 6 November that the party had already been re-formed in Java two weeks before the Hatta proclamation. There is no evidence, however, that they were in contact with the radical group who first led the P K I in Java, or shared the latter's interest in peasant Soviets and the nationalization of land. The Medan communists were pre-eminently Xarim's men, carrying on the opportunistically revolutionary traditions of the pre-1926 P K I . Xarim M. S. himself became chairman of the Sumatra party, and Mr Luat Siregar, apparently converted to Marxism by his wartime association with Xarim, was elected vice-chairman. Nathar Zainuddin appropriately became an 'assistant' on the executive with unspecified duties. A Medan executive was elected at the same time and later declared to represent East Sumatra. 83 Its chairman was M. Joenoes Nasution, 84 a little-known politician influenced in his youth by Tan Malaka. It was scarcely an orthodox group of Stalinists. None of the leading P K I figures remained in the party long after the revolution. Some, like Nathar and Joenoes, considered themselves good Muslims, and most were sympathetic to Tan Malaka. T h e great advantage they had was

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a theory, a tradition, and a vocabulary of revolution in no way derived from the now discredited Japanese. T h e pemuda demanded action against the enemies of Indonesian freedom, and in late 1945 it seemed to be only the communist leaders who were ready to respond to that demand. When Xarim launched a party weekly, Pandoe Merah (Red Guide) in December, the first three issues were quickly sold out even though the printing number was raised from 10,000 to 30,000. Despite pemuda receptiveness to its revolutionary ideas and to the influence of its leaders, however, the P K I lacked the broad constituency which other parties had established in the Dutch and Japanese periods. Most of the 11,000 members enrolled in the East Sumatran party by February were in the towns. Of the twenty branches established eight were in Medan city. 85 Similarly the Barisan Merah (Red Front), the party's armed force under Xarim's ex-Heiho protege, A. Razak Nasution, was never very large. The strength of the P K I leaders, as they fully realized, lay in their ability to guide and inspire the whole spectrum of revolutionary youth through such means as Nathar's Markas Agung. The gradual consolidation of other political parties could only work to limit their early influence. The potentially broader base of the P N I became manifest in January, as interest moved away from the urban politics of Medan, and some Japanese-trained leaders recovered from their initial demoralization. Xarim and Nathar did not bring into the P K I all the pasukan over which they had some influence. A number of those affiliated with Nationale Controle had supported the idea of a P N I state party when Xarim was leading it, and continued to think of themselves as P N I people. The name of the party, its early association with Sukarno and Hatta, and the emergence of Saleh Oemar as its leader in East Sumatra, all strengthened the sense that this was the party of the radical mainstream of pre-war local politics: PNI/PARTINDO/GERINDO, as well as their P N I baru and PARPINDO off-shoots. Among Nationale Controle leaders, D. Egon and Marzuki Lubis declared for Saleh Oemar's P N I in December. Selamat Ginting, who left the Medan 'front' to lead the P R I / P E S I N D O youth movement in Karoland, equally felt himself to be a 'PNI man'. He left PESINDO when it declared itself a political party in February and took his followers into the P N I . Still more numerous than these anti-Japanese elements were those who had received some degree of training at Inoue's TALAPETA school. The initial demoralization of the Kenkokutai leadership encouraged the scattering of these cadres into a variety of new organizations. In November Saleh Oemar had urged TALAPETA graduates to join the TKR. 8 6 A much larger number, however, joined P R I / P E S I N D O or remained in small pasukan without higher affiliation. The first sub-

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stantial organization to emerge from Kenkokutai ranks was the Serikat Nelayan Merdeka (Free Fishermen's Association) through which Nulung Sirait retained most of the following he had had in his TALAPETAtrained coastal defence organization. The emblem of the latter organization, the Naga Terbang (Flying Dragon), was however adopted by Timur Pane who must have had some TALAPETA connexion. Like the other semi-criminal leader, Mattheus Sihombing, Timur Pane declared his band to be part of the P N I in January. Jacub Siregar appears to have returned to East Sumatra in January 1946, about the same time that Dr A. K. Gani instructed all P N I branches in Sumatra to form a pemuda fighting force called NAPINDO. Siregar re-established his curious partnership with Inoue, though it was now the Japanese who depended on the protection of the Indonesian. They made their headquarters in Karoland, and quickly rebuilt their wartime Barisan Harimau Liar (BHL) into the strongest single section of NAPINDO. As an ethnic outsider, however, Jacub Siregar's following in the rural areas depended on two loyal supporters—Pajungbangun 87 in Karoland, and Saragih Ras 88 in Simalungun. Each represented a family overlooked for chiefly office, and each had been appointed leader of a local Kenkokutai unit by Inoue. This provided ready-made rural support in the power struggles of the early revolution. Pajungbangun, younger and Dutch-educated, was the more ambitious. He thrust himself into the forefront of Karo politics in October, becoming first leader of the local PRI. The wakil pemerintah NRI in Karoland, Ngeradjai Meliala, engineered an orderly meeting to overthrow him in December and the assembled pemuda chose Selamat Ginting as their new leader. Pajungbangun left P R I / P E S I N D O in disgust. His followers became the Karo wing of N A P I N D O / B H L . Jacub Siregar was accepted as overall commander of the movement, leaving Saleh Oemar in the P N I political leadership in Medan. The BHL continued to be a disruptive element in Karo politics, particularly through the fierce vendetta in which they felt themselves engaged with the 'establishment' group led by Ngeradjai Meliala and his ex-communist assistant, Nerus Ginting Suka. 89 In contrast with the P K I , the P N I in East Sumatra was extremely diffuse. The political leadership represented by Saleh Oemar and Adnan Nur Lubis had less influence over many of the pasukan nominally within it than did Xarim and Nathar. Real strength was in the pasukan, not in the party. Yet it could be said of the whole P N I that it represented a radical, action-oriented position of confrontation towards the Dutch and the Indonesian traditional elite. There was no place within it for moderate intellectuals like the pre-war PARINDRA element which formed its backbone in other parts of Indonesia. There was little scope for

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politicians like Sugondo and Dr Pirngadi in the early revolution except through the Komite Nasional Indonesia. Pirngadi's house was plundered by eight armed men on 2 February, two weeks after he had made an appeal to pemuda to listen to the voice of experience and balance. 90 The spectrum of radical political parties was eventually completed by PESINDO itself and by the Labour Party PBI (Partai Buruh Indonesia). Oesman Effendi led his local labour organization into the Javacentred PBI on 14 January. Although a force only in Medan, its daily newspaper Berdjoeang (Struggle) was the most militant voice in the city. Because the revolutionary situation inhibited the formation of moderate or rightist parties, the official representatives of the Republic were without real political support. It was the communist Xarim on whose conditional support the conservative Governor had to rely in the early revolution. The large potential of the Muslim constituency was slow to become effectively organized. The first initiative to mobilize Muslims for the anti-Dutch struggle was taken by the leader of the Muhammadiah youth organization, Bachtiar Joenoes. The Acehnese connexions he had formed as a pre-war Muslim student activist in West Sumatra helped to provide him with about sixty firearms—giving his pasukan a strong position in the street fighting of October. On this base Bachtiar formed in November the first Islamic party in East Sumatra, PARMUSI (Partai Muslimin Indonesia). His pasukan shed the PRI label to call itself Hizbullah, the fighting force of the new party. Yunan Nasution, who had replaced the discredited Hamka as Muhammadiah Consul, became publicity chief for PARMUSI. With this strong Muhammadiah backing and the support of many Acehnese in Medan, PARMUSI was able to attract 2,500 people to a rally on 2 December. The armed strength of the Islamic movement rested on Bachtiar's untypically radical Hizbullah, which he represented in Nathar Zainuddin's Markas Agung.01 The more established Muslim leaders did not become politically active until early December, when a conference of the M I T (Majlis Islam Tinggi—High Islamic Council) was held in Bukittinggi. Established by the Japanese in West Sumatra, this had been encouraged to extend to the whole of Sumatra only at the end of the war. H. A. R. Sjihab (of Wasliyah) and Tengku Jafizham (of the Serdang sultanate) were appointed to represent M I T in East Sumatra, and on 6 December they attended its first and only all-Sumatra conference. The delegates repeated the stand of Acehnese ulama that the holy war against the Dutch was Fardlu 'ain, an obligation for each believer. The M I T would become the Islamic political party for all Sumatra, and its fighting arm would carry the name Sabilillah.02 Bachtiar Joenoes loyally merged his

PARMUSI

into the new M I T ,

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177

and changed the name of his Hizbullah to Sabilillah. Various branches of M I T were opened, the strongest in Langkat. An officer training course was even opened for Sabilillah on 10 February. Yet until it was transformed into MASJUMI in March the M I T scarcely became a coherent party. It was essentially an alliance at the top between Muhammadiah and Jamiatul Wasliyah, with Tengku Jafizham and Mr Tengku Bahrioen attempting to apply the brakes on behalf of the kerajaan. The fighting pemuda of Bachtiar Joenoes provided most of its muscle. 93 With the partial exception of the P K I , none of these parties was an effective force in itself. At best they offered a loose framework within which some pre-war politicians could coexist with those armed pasukan with which they had most in common. Power continued to lie with youthful pasukan leaders, some of whom had become strong enough to construct larger barisan like BHL and PESINDO, with units in many areas. By the end of 1945 it was clear to all that the British and Dutch lacked the power or the will to extend their authority outside Medan city. The Japanese were purely passive and defensive. The revolution would therefore continue. The Republican Government itself controlled none of the instruments of force. Its chief asset was the universal recognition it now enjoyed, enabling it to assume the role of a referee between the real forces in society—the traditional ruling class and the armed pemuda.

1. Aneka Minggu (Medan), 16 June 1970. A series of articles devoted to the military side of the independence struggle in the Medan area appeared twiceweekly in this newspaper between 12 May and 25 September 1970. 2. K-S-S,

22 and 24-viii-2605. Aneka Minggu, 12 May 1970. Interviews.

3. Dr Amir's notes, 14 l u n e 1946, RvO, I.C. 005967. Hamka, kenangan hidup (Kuala Lumpur, 1966), p. 272.

Kenang-

4. Republik Indonesia. Propinsi Sumatera Utara (n.p., 1953), p. 22. 'Kisah Tahun Pertama Proklamasi dikota Medan' (unpublished PRIMA typescript, Medan, n.d.), pp. 12-14. Iman Marah typescript, 1947, pp. 1-2, C M I - D o c . 5331, ARA Archief Procureur-Generaal, no. 627. Edisaputra, Gelora Kemerdekaan Sepandjang Bukit Barisan, I (Medan, 1972), pp. 20-1. Interviews. 5. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan hidup, pp. 292-7. Mohamad Said, Empat Belas Boelan Pendoedoekan Inggeris di Indonesia (Medan, 1946), p. 30. Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, pp. 97-102. Interviews. . 6. Enquelecommissie Regeringsbeleid 1940-1945. Verslag Houdende de Uitkomsten van het Onderzoek, vol. V I I I (A & B), Militair beleid 1940-45. Terugkeer naar Nederlandsch-Indie (The Hague, 1956), pp. 585. G. F. Jacobs, Prelude to the Monsoon (Cape Town, Purnell, 1965), pp. 10-74. 7. Brondgeest in Enquelecommissie V I I I , Appendix, p. 128.

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8. Enquetecommissie VIII, pp. 588-94. Conrad E. L. Helfrich, Memoires (Amsterdam, Elsevier, 1950), I I , pp. 237-8. Raymond Westerling, Challenge to Terror (London, 1952), pp. 38-50. While Helfrich states and Westerling implies a strength below 200 men for the police force, Brondgeest claimed that the 800 British soldiers landed by 12 October were 'fewer than I now had at my own disposal'. (Enquetecommissie, p. 588). 9. Helfrich (II, 269) claimed that the force 'completely controlled Medan and its immediate environs. There was peace and order.' Another Dutch commando, Major M. Knottenbelt, who spent four days in Medan on his way to Aceh at the beginning of October, reported: 'The situation there was tense, but was controlled by a very able police commandant—Raymond Westerling.' 'Contact met Atjeh', Vrij Nederland, 19 January 1946. 10. Republik Indonesia. Propinsi Sumatera

Utara (Jakarta, 1954?), p. 39.

11. Enquetecommissie VIII, 585-6. Willem Brandt, De Gele Terreur (The Hague, 1946), pp. 215-19. OvS Instituut, Kroniek, 1941-1946 (Amsterdam, 1948), pp. 45-6 and 52. 12. Enquetecommissie VIII, Appendix, p . 127. 13. Aneka Minggu, 19 May 1970. Other sources attribute this telegram to Adinegoro in Bukittinggi, through whom it may have been forwarded. Cf. M. Sjarif Lubis, 'Mengenang Perlawanan Rakjat di Tanah Karo pada Permulaan Revolusi Pisik' (Unpublished typescript, n.d.), p. 5. For the role of Dr Gani and Adinegoro in establishing the Republic in Sumatra see Reid, 'The Birth of the Republic in Sumatra', Indonesia, 12 (1971), pp. 31-40. 14. T . M. Hasan, in Amanat Satoe Tahoen Merdeka (Padang Panjang, 1946), pp. 60-1. 'Kisah Tahun Pertama', pp. 10-23. 'Arsip Sedjarah', typescript compiled by PRIMA [Pejuang Republic Indonesia Medan Area], (Medan, 1972?), pp. 48-51. 15. Edisaputra, 'Peristiwa Sedjarah', Gema Bukit Barisan, I (June 1970), pp. 37-8. Interviews. 16. Aneka Minggu, 15 May 1970. 'Arsip Sedjarah', pp. 31-7. 17. Aneka Minggu, 19 May 1970. 'Arsip Sedjarah', pp. 51-4. 18. Ahmad Tahir appears to have been born in 1922 from a local Malay mother and a Javanese father employed in the Deli Railway Company. His education was in Dutch to MULO level and in Japanese at the Medan Seinen Renseisho (Youth training centre). He was among the first to join the Giyugun in October 1943 and reached the rank of First Lieutenant in May 1945. By 1969 he had become a Lt.-General and commander of the Sumatra Defence Command. 19. Edisaputra, pp. 38-42. 'Kisah Tahun Pertama', pp. 38-9. Cf. Aneka Minggu, 22 May 1970, which puts the date of this meeting at 21 September, more likely the date for which the original invitations were issued. 20. Sjarif Lubis, p. 5. Interview. 21. Aneka Minggu, 23 June 1970. Interview. 22. Recorded interview with Marzuki Lubis, February 1970, by Nip Xarim. 'Kisah Tahun Pertama', p. 27 and 40. Aneka Minggu, 22 May 1970. Interviews. 23. Aneka Minggu, 23 June 1970. Interviews.

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179

24. Aneka Minggu, 22 May 1970. 'Kisah Tahun Pertama', pp. 38-40. M. K. Djusni, 'Selajang Pandang Kenang Kenangan Repolusi dikota Medan' (unpublished typescript, n.d.), pp. 3-8. Edisaputra, pp. 38-42. 'Arsip Sedjarah', pp. 54-8. 25. Djusni, p. 10. Propinsi Sumatera Utara, pp. 29-30. Mohammad Said in Dobrak (Medan), 25 August 1970. Interviews. 26. Dr M. Amir, Melawat ke Djawa (Medan 1946), p. 32, explained Sukarno's appeal by commenting 'Anyone who has heard our Bung Xarim M. S. speak must understand the meaning of this contact between leader and people, as if there was a "magnetic fluid" between them.' 27. Sjarif Lubis, pp. 6-9. Djusni, pp. 9-15. Aneka Minggu, 26 and 29 May 1970. 'Arsip Sedjarah', pp. 60-4. 28. On the 'recognition' issue see N.I.B., I, pp. 233-5 and 300-17, and for its influence in Medan, Hamka, Kenang-kenangan hidup, p. 292. 29. Soeloeh Merdeka, no.l, 4 October 1945. 'Kisah Tahun Pertama', pp. 48-50. 50 Tahun Kotapradja Medan (Medan, 1959), pp. 80-1 and 106. Interviews. 30. Pewarta Deli, 6 and 8 October 1945. Jacobs, pp. 143-8. Interview. T h e old sultan had died a few days earlier. 31. Aneka Minggu, 2 June 1970. 32. Brandt, pp. 218-19. 33. N.I.B.,

I, p. 465.

34. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 January 1946, p. 3, post-war N . I . archive in Ministerie van Binnenlandse Zaken, The Hague [Bi.Z.] 22/1. 35. F. S. V. Donnison, British Military Administration in the Far East 19431946 (London), 415-18. 36. Soeloeh Merdeka, 4 October 1945. 37. Ibid., reprinted in Osman Raliby, Documenta Historica (Djakarta 1953), p. 50. 38. Aminuddin Nazir at 23 September meeting, cited Djusni, p. 5, and 'Arsip Sedjarah', p. 55. 39. 13 October is the date commemorated in the monument later erected on the spot, and in Mohamad Said, Pendoedoekan Inggeris, p. 69. Later Indonesian writing, however, usually gives 14 October as the date. This confusion may arise from the account in Pewarta Deli, 15 October 1945, which refers to events 'yesterday'. The final paragraph of this newspaper account, however, does confirm that 13 October was the date of the incident. 40. Pewarta Deli, 15 October 1945. Djabatan Penerangan R.I., Propinsi Tapanuli/Sumatera Timur, Perdjuangan Rakjat (Medan, 1950), pp. 97-8. Mengenangkan Hari Proklamasi (Medan, 1956), pp. 86-7. Westerling, pp. 42-3. 'Arsip Sedjarah', pp. 75-6. 41. Enquetecommissie VIII, p. 592 and Appendix, p. 130. W I S 12, 8 January 1946, App. A, W O 172/9893. Interrogation of General Tanabe, RvO, I.C. 059351. Propinsi Sumatera Utara, p. 42. Mohamad Said, p. 70. Interviews. T h e deaths of a 'neutral' Swiss in both Jalan Bali and Siantar Hotel incidents may have been simply a result of their accessibility to a vengeful crowd.

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However the suspicions of many Republicans had been aroused by Swiss prominence in the Hulpactie organized to assist Allied prisoners-of-war after the surrender, and in liaison functions for the Allies. Mohamad Said, p. 30. Enquetecommissie VIII, pp. 591-2. OvS Instituut, Kroniek 19411946, pp. 43-4. 42. Enquetecommissie VIII, p. 592. 43. Pewarta Deli, 18 October 1945. Also ibid., 15 and 17 October 1945. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 January 1946, p. 7, Bi.Z. 22/1. 44. Enquetecommissie VIII, p. 588. 45. Pewarta Deli, 19 October 1945. 46. Pewarta Deli, 18 and 19 October 1945. Mohamad Said, p. 70. Raliby, p59. Situation Report, 17 October 1945, of A L F Sumatra, WO 203/2508. 47. Enquetecommissie VIII, pp. 592-3. Helfrich II, 269. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 January 1946, p. 7, Bi.Z. 22/1. 48. Enquetecommissie VIII, pp. 589 and 593. Westerling, p. 60. 49. Aneka Minggu, 9, 12, 16, and 18 June 1970. 'Arsip Sedjarah', pp. 89-101. Mahruzar, in a 1972 interview, mentioned that most of his proteges of the 1945 T K R had found their way back to prison by 1950. 50. Aneka Minggu, 29 June 1970. 51. Aneka Minggu, 22 May and 26 June 1970. 'Arsip Sedjarah', pp. 98-101 and 118-20. Interviews. 52. Aneka Minggu, 26 May and 16 June 1970. 'Kisah Tahun Pertama', p. 40. Perdjuangan Rakjat, p. 98. 53. Iman Marah typescript, 1947, p. 20. 54. Djusni, pp. 18-19. Interviews. 55. Westerling, pp. 49-50. 56. W I S 11, 1 January 1946, WO 172/9893. Also Djusni, pp. 18-19. 'Arsip Sedjarah', pp. 118-20. Interviews. 57. Notes captured in raid on PESINDO Sector 5, Appendix D in WIS 11, 1 January 1946, WO 172/9893. 58. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 January 1946, Bi.Z. 22/1. N.I.B. 516-18 & 523-4. Interviews.

II, pp.

59. Tengku Luckman Sinar, 'Revolusi Sosial di Deli' (typescript), p. 14. Interviews. 60. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 January 1946, p. 8, Bi.Z. 22/1. W I S 12, 8 January 1946, WO 172/9893. CMI Document 5590, 25 June 1948, in ARA Archief Algemene Secretarie, No.368. Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, pp. 102 ff. 61. Aneka Minggu, 28 and 29 June 1970. 'Arsip Sedjarah', pp. 131-5. 62. Aneka Minggu, 29 June and 3 July 1970. 'Arsip Sedjarah', pp. 135-7. Interviews. W I S 21, 9 March 1946, W O 172/9893, p. 1 and appendix, reported a peak of fifteen desertions of Indian soldiers in the week 2-9 March. 63. Rajendra Singh, Post-war Occupation Forces: Japan and South-east

Asia

«3fel

THE AGENTS OF REVOLUTION IN EAST SUMATRA

181

(Kanpur, 1958). Official History of the Indian Armed Forces in the Second World War 1939-1945, p. 241. Sjarif Lubis, pp. 15-18. Mohamad Said, pp. 100-1. 64. Raliby, p. 130. Mohamad Said, pp. 98-9. 'Pembunuhan Masai di Tebing Tinggi' (Unpublished PRIMA typescript, Medan, n.d.), pp. 1-5. 65. Aneka Minggu, 21 July 1970. Propinsi Sumatera Utara, pp. 46-7. Cables 26 Indian Division, 11, 14 and 16 December 1945, WO 203/2512. W I S 12, 8 January 1946, W O 172/9893. 66. For Westerling's operations against Sarwono's Gagak Hitam and the Banteng Hitam (Black Buffalo), see Arthur Mathers in the Daily Telegraph (London), 7 February 1946, and Westerling, pp. 61-74. Brondgeest, though full of praise for Westerling's work in Medan, conceded that his methods 'could perhaps sometimes not be called exactly humane'; Enquetecommissie VIII, p. 589. 67. Aneka Minggu, 24 July 1970. 68. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan hidup, pp. 270-1. 69. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 January 1946, Bi.Z. 22/1. 'Pembunuhan Masai', pp. 28-42. Aneka Minggu, 3, 7 and 10 July 1970. 'Arsip Sedjarah', pp. 139-45. Propinsi Sumatera Utara, p. 51. New York Times, 22 December 1945, quoting Aneta. Interviews. 70. W I S 11, 1 January 1946, WO 172/9893. Also Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 January 1946, pp. 7-8, Bi.Z. 22/1. Raliby, pp. 158-9 and 168. 71. Mas Tahir had been transferred from the Department of Finance in Batavia in 1938 to become hoofdcommies (chief clerk) at the Medan office set up to plan and establish the new province of Sumatra. Mr Hasan was an official in the same office. During the Japanese occupation both Tahir and Hasan worked in the office of the military administration in Medan. In Java before his transfer Tahir had been an executive member of Taman Siswa and a member of GERINDO. He was transferred back to Java in March 1947 as a scapegoat for pemuda attacks on bureaucratic attitudes. 72. Raliby, p. 81. 73. Semangat Merdeka, 10 November 1945. Rokyoto and D. A. R. Kelana Putera, Penemuan pusara pudjangga Amir Hamzah (Medan, 'Prakarsa', n.d.), p. 11. Interviews. For details of Republican appointments see Appendix. 74. Madja Poerba (born 1909), of the ruling family of Purba, Simalungun, graduated from the Bukittinggi MOSVIA (school for officials) in 1932. Thereafter he was employed in a variety of government offices in Pematang Siantar, finally becoming secretary of the Gunseibu there in 1944 and fuku-bunshucho the following year. 75. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 December 1946, Bi.Z. 22/1. 76. 50 Tahun Kotapradja Medan (Medan, 1959), p. 82. H. Basrie, 'Tentang pimpinan dan struktur pemerintahan' (typescript), p . 1. Both these sources suggest the Markas Agung was formed in November 1945, but cf. Propinsi Sumatera Utara, p. 77 for a later date. 77. Iman Marah typescript, 1947, p. 4. 78. Brondgeest report, 26 December 1945, in N.I.B.

I l l , pp. 12-14.

182

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

79. Cables 26th Indian Division, 3, 4, and 7 December 1945, W O 203/2512. W I S 11, 1 January 1946, W O 172/9893. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 January 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. Verslag over Sumatra tot 31 dec. 1945, N.I.B, II, p. 521. 80. Kementerian Penerangan Republik Indonesia, Kepartaian (Jakarta, 1951), p. 7.

di Indonesia

81. Semangat Merdeka, 6, 10, 17, 20, and 29 November 1945. 82. Captured minutes of P N I meeting, 14-15 December 1945, Appendix B to W I S 13, 14 January 1946, W O 172/9893. 83. Translation of P K I weekly Pandoe Merah, 1 December 1945, Appendix B to W I S 12, 8 January 1946, WO 172/9893. Raliby, p . 105, gives Luat Siregar and Nathar both as 'assistants', suggesting that Luat's promotion may have come after the initial meeting. 84. Mohammad Joenoes Nasution (c.1905-69) had lived near T a n Malaka in Tanjung Morawa in 1920-1 and was influenced by his ideas. His first political experience however appears to have been in P N I , PARTINDO, and GERINDO, without holding any significant position in these parties. He worked as a clerk in a soft-drink firm (Fraser & Neave) and as an occasional journalist. He was not a member of BOMPA or other Japanese-promoted organizations, and his rapid rise in 1945 appears to be attributable almost entirely to the backing of Xarim and Nathar. When he fell from grace with the P K I , however, he was rescued from prison by NAPINDO leaders Marzuki Lubis and Bedjo. 85. Appendix B to W I S 12, 8 January 1946; W I S 19, 23 February 1946; WO 172/9893. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 January 1946, pp. 4 and 10, Bi.Z. 22/1. 86. Cable 26th Indian Division, 23 November 1945, W O 203/2512. 87. Pajungbangun's family had some claim to the wealthiest and most disputed raja urung-ship in Karoland, the irrigated urung of Batu Karang. He graduated from MULO in 1940 and took a job in the BPM oil refinery in Palembang. He returned to Karoland after the aron, in which his brother Koda Bangun had taken the leading role in Batu Karang. Before the Japanese surrender he had been trained at TALAPETA and was appointed Dai Tai Cho of the Harimau Liar section of Kenkokutai in Karoland. Pajungbangun spent some time in prison from 1949 for his role in the revolution, and again in 1965-72 as a pre-1965 leader of the leftist PARTINDO. 88. Saragih Ras (c.1905-55) was the son of the perbapaan of Tiga Ras, in Pane, and it was therefore natural he would obtain a little education and become an apprentice clerk in the Pane kerajaan office. He resigned from this in 1923 and joined the semi-criminal underworld for a few years before obtaining a job as a taxidriver (1927-30). In 1931 he succeeded his father as head of the village, but the raja evidently refused him the title of perbapaan. He became further alienated, and was one of the few Simalungun to join GERINDO in 1938 and the F-kikan in 1942. He was therefore a natural leader of the Kenkokutai in Simalungun, and of its successor the B H L . His pasukan appears to have been of relatively minor significance, however, until it acquired wealth through the 'social revolution'. Saragih Ras spent most of the years after 1949 in Republican prisons, although never brought to court. 89. Interviews. Soeloeh Merdeka,

14 and 28 January 1946. Inoue, Bapa

THE AGENTS OF REVOLUTION IN EAST SUMATRA

183

Djanggut, p. 116. Iman Marah typescript, pp. 21-3 and 34. Republik Indonesia, Propinsi Sumatera Utara (Jakarta, n.d.), pp. 126-7. 90. Soeloeh Merdeka, 17 January 1946. W I S 17, 9 February 1946, W O 172/ 9893. 91. Semangat Merdeka, 6 and 8 December 1946. Interviews Bachtiar Joenoes and Yunan Nasution. 92. Anthony Reid, 'The Birth of the Republic in Sumatra', Indonesia, 12 (1971), pp. 28-9. Raliby, pp. 136-7. \ Abad Al-Djamijatul Washlijah (Medan, 1955), pp. 133-5. Interviews. 93. Soeloeh Merdeka,

5 and 21 January, and 11 February 1946. Interviews.

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VII ECLIPSE OF THE ULEEBALANG

' The wheel of the universe turns, giving rise to events both horrifying and joyful. Once his time has come, no man can escape his fate. Even so with the aristocracy of North Aceh, whose time for living tyrannously had truly run out. Willing or unwilling, they had to bow before the law of life and the will of the times, bringing their destiny towards its ruin.' ABDULLAH ARIF,

19461

EXPECTATIONS IF there was one part of Indonesia where outsiders expected special difficulties to follow the Japanese surrender, it was Aceh. The militant anti-Dutch tradition of the Acehnese and their successful 1942 uprising were guarantees that at least there the pre-war order could not readily be reimposed. A number of Japanese sought to take advantage of this Acehnese tradition. Four days after he must have heard the Imperial broadcast announcing surrender Masubuchi gave one of his fieriest speeches appealing for resistance to the Allies as if the war was still on.2 The readiness of the Acehnese to continue the war which Japan had lost seemed still more certain in faraway Singapore, especially to the intelligence section of the 7th Area Army. Known as the Ibaragi kikan, this section continued some of the intelligence and 5th column work of the earlier Fujiwara kikan. Its commander, Major T. Ishizima, and his two principal assistants were all from the Nakano intelligence school, whose graduates were explicitly prepared to remain behind as guerrilla organizers in the event of a Japanese retreat or surrender. The two assistants had both worked in Sumatra until transferred to Singapore in April 1944. Captain Adachi Takashi had built his intelligence network primarily in Aceh and Captain Kondo Tsugio in Medan, establishing what contacts they could among radical nationalists. The three men decided that Aceh was the place in which they should hold out while awaiting the second great battle for Asia which would surely come. Aoki Eigoro, the hero of PUSA'S takeover of the judiciary, was invited to join the three to ensure their warm reception by the Acehnese.

186

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

Having incautiously mentioned this plan to the unemployed pilots they had been retraining for guerrilla work, the Nakano men were overwhelmed by the pilots' enthusiasm to join it. Two small ships had to be commandeered to take 150 Japanese and a large quantity of arms, ammunition, and saleable cloth to Sumatra on the night of 19 August. One ship appears to have landed in Siak, and its leaders were arrested on their way through East Sumatra on the authority of General Itagaki. 3 The other succeeded in reaching Langsa, but even in Aceh the response of the Japanese military hierarchy was disappointing. Most Japanese were aware of rising Acehnese resentment and wanted only to get out of the region safely. Despite their attempts to buy favour with handouts of cloth, arms, and even gold, Ishizima's men also found an increasingly hostile reception from Acehnese. 4 By the end of September most of them were back in Japanese barracks. Although Aceh was probably more favoured by Japanese deserters than any other Indonesian region, most of those who remained were obliged to become Muslims and seek an influential Acehnese protector. The Japanese surrender had been announced by the Atjeh Sinbun on 22 August, though a few Acehnese had been kept informed from the beginning. The day before the public announcement Giyugun and Heiho soldiers had been disarmed and dispersed to their villages, most of them too astonished to protest. 5 The typical reaction to the surrender was shock and confusion, coupled with relief in some quarters that the nightmare was over. For the mass of people in this region it was an inevitable fact that the Japanese surrender meant the return of the D u t c h . . . . It did not flash through their minds that, with the Japanese capitulation, possibilities also arose for a change in the constitutional basis of the country.6 Some Chinese in the towns enjoyed a moment of jubilation as rumours spread that the armies of Chiang Kai Shek would enter Indonesia with the Allies.7 A number of uleebalang were visibly gratified at the prospect of their enemies being punished and their former authority fully restored. Some hastened to make contact with Dutch friends and officials in the Pematang Siantar camp, and to mend fences with the most pro-Dutch of their colleagues, T . Chik Peusangan. 8 Aceh was much better prepared than East Sumatra to manage its own affairs, with T . Njak Arif already entrenched as undisputed leader. He appears to have received an appointment as Republican Resident directly from Jakarta in late August, perhaps because of fears there for the explosive situation in Aceh. 9 Far from organizing resistance to the Allies however, the Japanese-appointed leadership appeared to be infected by the complete demoralization from which most Japanese officials suf-

ECLIPSE OF THE ULEEBALANG

187

fered. 'If we had already been panicky for some time', wrote Panglima Polim, 'now we were in even more of a panic.' 10 Njak Arif was made of sterner stuff than most, but he limited his activities during the first month to cautious negotiations to try to form a K N I and keep an administration running. Even in Aceh the Allies were not slow to make an appearance. The British Navy occupied the island and port of Sabang without resistance on 7 September and established there one of the first NICA administrations. On 5 October a small Allied party was sent from Medan to Kutaraja under a Dutch commando, Major Knottenbelt, and was placed by the Japanese in a comfortable villa flying the Union Jack. Its functions were to observe and report, and to try to keep the Japanese up to their obligations to maintain order and retain control of arms. Njak Arif co-operated cordially with Knottenbelt, and even signed a petition to the British command that the Dutchman's presence was 'at this m o m e n t . . . indispensable to the maintenance of law and order'. 11 With Masubuchi, whom the Dutch regarded as the most dangerous Japanese propagandist, Knottenbelt had a number of angry exchanges. When his arrest was authorized from Medan on 21 October, Masubuchi chose instead the honourable path of suicide. 12

A REPUBLICAN

GOVERNMENT

Throughout Indonesia it was educated youth who provided the impetus for both resistance to the Allies and a new sense of Indonesian unity. Before the war such an element was hard to identify in Aceh, but the Japanese had changed all that. Whatever their position on the PUSAuleebalang question, the educated pemuda grouped around the Japanese propaganda agencies and the Japanese-trained Giyugun officers saw themselves in the first place as Indonesian nationalists in 1945. It was they who responded most fully to Japanese patriotic ideals, and who now responded first to reports of an independence proclamation in Jakarta. Late in August a group of such youth began to meet in Kutaraja under the chairmanship of Ali Hasjmy, editor of the Atjeh Sinbun. Under the same sort of pressures as their counterparts in Medan, they declared themselves the Ikatan Pemuda Indonesia (Union of Indonesian Youth) or IPI during September and began to extend their contacts. 13 This was still a relatively small group in comparison to the established social forces still preoccupied by the internal Acehnese power balance. The pemuda movement only became really active in the wake of events in Medan. The wave of activity naturally began in the east, in the form of a big independence rally and procession in Langsa on 1 October. 14 After that red-and-white flags began to sprout everywhere. The IPI

188

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

group adopted the name of the Medan BPI on 6 October. The distinction between the military and 'civilian' sections of the youth movement emerged earlier in Aceh than in East Sumatra because of the active role of T. Njak Arif. Already in September he had gathered some of the leading ex-Giyugun officers and suggested they retain some organization as a potential army. He suggested that the leader of the anti-Japanese mutiny, T. A. Hamid Azwar, take the initiative, but the latter deferred to his old Taman Siswa teacher, Sjammaun Gaharu. 15 The officers had their hands very full trying to reassemble and organize the large number of Giyugun, Heiho, and Tokobetsu Keisatsutai officers and men in Aceh. By October 12 they were in a position to announce an Aceh-wide structure for what they called API (Angkatan Pemuda Indonesia, though with the potential to be changed to Angkatan Perang Indonesia—Indonesian armed forces—as soon as conditions permitted). Markas Daerah (regional headquarters) were established for each afdeling and Wakil Markas Daerah for each district, above the pasukan commands already familiar from Japanese times. 16 Later events were to underline the dangers inherent in this early distinction between military and nonmilitary youth leaders with initially similar outlooks. The Japanese had made no objection to the raising of the Indonesian flag over police stations and various other Indonesian-manned government offices during September. Only at the office of the chokan and of each bunshucho did the Japanese maintain a government presence and continue to fly the Hinomaru. Knottenbelt's arrival required the Japanese to make some gesture to restrain the formation of the quasi-military API and the spreading of pamphlets, and on 6 October lino gave the leading Acehnese a lecture on the legal situation following the surrender. Sjammaun Gaharu hit a responsive chord when he protested that in view of 'the will to struggle which has been taught the Indonesian people by the Japanese A r m y . . . the chokan has no right to order the dissolution of API'. 1 7 Some of the senior Japanese were delighted when their Acehnese proteges showed the courage to defy their token resistance. The bunshucho of Langsa bitterly attacked his Indonesian police chief, Abdullah Hussain, for raising the merah-putih over the government offices in early October. When Abdullah stood his ground his mood suddenly changed to praise: 'If there were a thousand young men like this Abdullah, I believe Indonesian independence could not be taken away by anyone. I am happy to see you are a brave patriot. Now, what can I do to help you?' 1 8 It was only a matter of time before this rising pemuda enthusiasm provided the degree of counter-bluff Njak Arif needed to take over the Aceh government completely. Kutaraja was a small, predominantly

ECLIPSE OF THE ULEEBALANG

189

official town, and it was not until 14 October that the BPI was strong enough to organize a public rally at the local cinema. The Japanese allowed only T. Njak Arif to speak, but this was enough for him to demonstrate that there was substance to the independence movement. It was probably the same day that Njak Arif sent the tactful Panglima Polim to arrange with the Japanese that the transfer of authority would run smoothly. The Japanese could not openly approve, but Polim avoided embarrassment by explaining that the Indonesians would simply seize power. That evening lino sent 100,000 rupiahs to Polim as his gift for the new Republican government.19 On the morning of the 15th Njak Arif gathered the senior government officials to warn them that if they did not now take control of their offices from the Japanese, he and the pemuda would do it for them. Soon after the remaining Japanese officials were called to a conference with lino, allowing the changeover of flags and responsibilities to be conducted painlessly. Despite the Allied presence the assumption of complete Republican control had been carried out with remarkable smoothness. To set a seal on the achievement a Republican newspaper, Semangat Merdeka, was inaugurated by Ali Hasjmy and his existing Atjeh Sinbun staff on 18 October.29 The co-operation between the Acehnese government leaders and the Japanese in this period no doubt owed something to their common fear of the consequences of a militant Islamic movement. Njak Arif did nothing to foster a popular movement, preferring to use the Japaneseappointed government structure and API (which declared itself the Republican army, the TKR, on 1 November) to lever power and later arms from the Japanese. In practice, moreover, the majority of Giyugun and therefore of TKR officers were from uleebalang families. At least in polarized Pidie they were inevitably perceived as agents of the uleebalang establishment.21 It was left to the BPI group to co-ordinate a popular movement and tap the leadership potential of the PUSA ulama. The desire of the pemuda leaders for unity was emphasized in a joint letter which Hasjmy and Sjammaun Gaharu sent to the chairman of the KNI, Tuanku Mahmud: 'Pemuda emphatically want to hear no more of divisions and differences within our society, whether among pemuda or among your excellencies who are like fathers to us.' 22 Yet the more the two groups extended their activities into rural Aceh, the more they were drawn into different paths. The BPI made itself an Aceh-wide movement at a meeting in Kutaraja on 12 October, undoubtedly stimulated by Hoesain Almujahid and Nathar Zainuddin, who had travelled up from Idi in the same train. Their presence helped to ensure that the branch leaders chosen to inaugurate the BPI in the districts were all Pemuda PUSA members.23

190

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

The influential older ulama were brought into the struggle two days later, immediately following the rally addressed by Njak Arif. The pemuda moved on from the cinema to the mosque, where Daud Beureu'eh urged them to fight for their legitimate rights as prescribed by scripture. They reportedly heard him 'like our parents heard the sermon of the great mujahid Teungku Chik di Tiro in the last holy war—moved and ready for struggle'. 24 A formal declaration that the conditions for holy war (jihad) had been met required a consensus of ulama, not PUSA alone. Following the BPI rally Daud Beureu'eh was able to obtain the signatures of two famous traditionalist teachers, Teungku Haji Hasan Krueng Kali and Teungku Djafar Sidik, as well as one of his PUSA colleagues, for a statement that 'this struggle is a sacred struggle which is called a HOLY W A R , . . . [and] is like a continuation of the former struggle in Aceh which was led by the late Teungku Chik di Tiro and other national heroes'. 25 Although signed on 15 October, this declaration was not published until a much fuller mobilization of ulama had taken place over the ensuing month. Six hundred Pidie ulama gathered at Tiro on 16 November, to be followed a week later by the ulama of Aceh Besar. Each gathering confirmed that the appropriate conditions for a jihad (holy war) now applied. Not content with the nationalistic basis of BPI/PRI, each meeting established an Islamic army to pursue the holy war, called Mujahidin in Pidie and Hizbullah in Aceh Besar. 26 PUSA influence was dominant in these Islamic armies, and strong too in BPI (which declared itself PRI on October 17, 'on instructions from Java'). 27 The former however sought to continue the traditional leadership of rural ulama, where the latter was led by urban pemuda with Japanese or modernist Islamic education and a primarily nationalist orientation. While this populist/Islamic movement was mobilizing, T . Njak Arif worked quietly to make the Japanese administration operate without the Japanese. Those appointed fuku-bunshucho of the five divisions of Aceh before the surrender were confirmed in office as Assistant-Residents, and the Japanese-appointed guncho reverted to the Dutch title of controleur."13 The Republican territorial administration was therefore exclusively staffed by prominent uleebalang. Below this hierarchy the uleebalang were also accepted as part of the Republican administration. Even the PRI went out of its way to declare the loyalty of every member to all Republican officials, including 'Resident, Uleebalang, Imeum, Keucik, Waki, Teungku Meunasah, etc. . . . as long as they love the Republic of Indonesia and do not betray national independence'. 29 On the highly sensitive question whether the new courts established in 1944 would continue, however, Njak Arif appears to have given no sufficiently

ECLIPSE OF THE ULEEBALANG

191

clear lead. Some uleebalang in Pidie unilaterally resumed their pre-war judicial powers during their period of euphoria immediately following news of the surrender. The question who controlled the judicial process gave the revolution a dramatic local focus understood by all rural Acehnese. Njak Arif's major emphasis during October and November appears to have been on ensuring a high standard of discipline in the name of the Republic. One of his early announcements forbade gambling, distilling arak, and evenpasar malam (night markets) unless with official permission. His speeches insisted that gambling, robbery, and self-indulgence must be eliminated. 30 The Resident also took pains to win to his side the ex-KNiL detainees, mainly Ambonese and Menadonese, released by the Japanese on 26 September, and to include their representatives on Republican platforms to avert hostility from pemuda. Njak Arif placed a dangerous strain on the loyalty of the young nationalists, however, when in November he formed 200 of these ex-KNiL soldiers into an elite 'special police' responsible directly to himself. He acquired 600 rifles from the Japanese in Kutaraja, some of which were used to equip this 'special police' and the remainder the TKR. 3 1 This first transfer of Japanese arms to the 'official' Republic may even have been tacitly approved by the Allied mission headed by Knottenbelt. Njak Arif appeared at one point to be seeking Allied support for a policy of concentrating arms in the hands of the T K R and 'special police'. His decree of 8 November forbade anyone to carry firearms unless licensed by the Resident, and added 'if the Allies find firearms on people they will be sentenced to death'. 32 The growing popular enthusiasm for independence would sooner or later make Knottenbelt's continued presence in Aceh impossible. Some pemuda went to great efforts to spy on him and soon discovered that he was a Dutch national, responsible to NICA as well as to the British. Demonstrations were held in front of his house and the Japanese continually urged him to withdraw while it was safe to do so. When on 10 November Knottenbelt and his staff finally retreated to Medan by car, Njak Arif offered to accompany him in order to ensure his safety. This the Dutch rejected presumably for fear it might seem to imply recognition of the Republic. But Sjammaun Gaharu and a PRI leader travelled with Knottenbelt, while Njak Arif went ahead to smooth potential difficulties along the way. 33 Njak Arif had other reasons to visit Medan, both to discuss British intentions directly with Brigadier Kelly and to seek medical treatment for his diabetes. When Kelly requested permission for a British peacekeeping force to enter Aceh, the Resident was so alarmed that he forgot his diabetes and decided to return at once to help defend Aceh. Never-

192

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

theless this visit and its association with Knottenbelt gave rise to some pemuda suspicion of Njak Arif. Doubts were increased by the activity of Goh Moh Wan, a rashly ambitious Kutaraja Chinese who had been translator for the Kenpeitai during the war. After the surrender he acted as adviser and translator for Njak Arif as well as cultivating Knottenbelt. When the Allied representative left Kutaraja he named Goh Moh Wan as Allied liaison officer, and Njak Arif gave Goh a letter of recognition in this capacity. Goh visited Medan a few days after Njak Arif and Knottenbelt and was much seen with Allied officials. When leaving he was arrested and killed by PESINDO youths. They found on him Njak Arif's letter, which was duly passed to Sarwono and to some of the latter's contacts in Aceh, who included Hoesain Almujahid. By threads of association of this sort, distrust of Njak Arif and Sjammaun spread in Pemuda PUSA and PRI circles. 34

STRUGGLE

FOR

ARMS

Knottenbelt had appealed against the Allied decision to withdraw him: 'with an Allied representative on the spot the Japanese know that their activities are observed, and the Indonesians know that they can exercise no influence on the Japanese'. 35 T h e transfer of arms from Japanese to Acehnese hands did escalate rapidly after his departure, though as we know from East Sumatra he could have done nothing to prevent it. The old Acehnese fighting spirit was beginning to be aroused. The earliest trickle of arms was arranged diplomatically. Non-inventoried weapons, such as obsolete models or those captured from Allied troops, were often handed over fairly readily to satisfy pemuda requests. In other cases arms were given to the uleebalang Republican officials to enable them to contain the growing unrest in their districts. Besides the 600 rifles given to Njak Arif, over 100 weapons were given to the guncho of Seulimeum and a substantial number to the guncho of Lammeulo, T . Mohd. Daud Cumbok. 36 But by late November more determination was required on one or both sides, for the Allies had an inventory of arms and insisted on accounting for every loss. Where there was determined leadership the rising tide of popular bitterness towards the Japanese was not difficult to tap. Thousands of rural Acehnese would answer the call to battle, bringing spears, parang and klewang to join in the holy struggle. 'They themselves were not exactly sure what they were coming to do.' 3 7 T h e first major battle occurred at Cunda, near Lhokseumawe, when a train carrying a whole Japanese battalion was cut off on 15 November. T h e Japanese were eventually allowed to proceed after many casualties and the surrender

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of sixty rifles. A week later a Japanese company attempting to reach Bireuen from Lhokseumawe was stopped by a crowd which one Japanese estimated at over 50,000. After a two-day battle and many deaths the company surrendered all its weapons. These were entrusted to the guncho of Bireuen, T . Idris, though subsequently taken from him by Daud Beureu'eh's son Hasballah. 38 In other cases the initiative came from Japanese officers seeking to make a last contribution to the cause of independence. There was admiration as well as fear for the fighting spirit of the Acehnese, and the emotional bond of obligation was probably stronger than anywhere else in Indonesia. One Japanese lieutenant who had trained most of the Giyugun officers in Idi undertook a personal crusade to persuade the two Japanese battalions in Lhokseumawe to give all their arms away at whatever cost. Lt. Maeda reminded his colleagues of Japanese promises and Japanese aims: The Japanese bravely opened a front against the white race. In Asia for so long white men have made Asians into cheap slaves and exploited the labour and the rich resources of Asia to develop the white countries. . . . Never mind if Japan is defeated in the war, so long as the peoples of Asia arise to claim their freedom. . . . The Allies have returned our weapons to us . . . in the hope that we will fight fiercely among ourselves, Japanese against Indonesians, so that Indonesians will continue to hate Japanese in future generations. With that, the Dutch and their allies will applaud, for without having to interfere they will have achieved their aim—division between the Asian races, who have been firmly united since the world war.39 These ideas had their effect, for at least 600 weapons from the 2,000strong garrison were surrendered peacefully in early December. 40 A much more senior officer, Major Okamura, had already explained to Governor Hasan in October that the Japanese had no heart for carrying out Allied instructions and would quickly hand over their arms if the Acehnese mounted realistic-looking attacks. Hasan sent Xarim M. S. to northern Aceh with this message in early November, with results which were evident in the clashes around Lhokseumawe. 41 While in North Aceh it had been the T K R and the uleebalang officials who had instigated the clashes and benefited from them, in Aceh Besar it was the PRI. Pressure focused at the end of November on the airport and garrison of Lhoknga, one of the three centres in the district where Japanese had concentrated. The PRI brought such big names as Daud Beureu'eh, Ismail Jakoeb, T . M. Amin, and Ali Hasjmy to Lhoknga on 21 November to arouse a great mass rally. 42 Within a few days popular pressure had produced an influx of villagers who surrounded the Japanese camp. As many as 10,000 Acehnese were involved by the

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end of the month, and bloody clashes developed around the Japanese perimeter. At about noon on 1 December the Japanese appealed for negotiation to avert a really major blood-letting. Njak Arif sent Tuanku Mahmud who now had the rank of Assistant-Resident, and acceptable terms were arranged. The Japanese troops were to leave Lhoknga on foot and concentrate all their troops at the Blang Bintang airport just south of Kutaraja. They would take with them only such arms as they could carry, and the remainder would be left with the Acehnese besiegers. The other agreement, broken by uncontrollable pemuda within two weeks, was that there would be no further harassment of the Japanese provided they kept to themselves at Blang Bintang. 43 One of the important consequences of this battle was the formation of a separate armed force by P R I / P E S I N D O . The PRI's original aspiration to represent all Acehnese youth had already proved incompatible with its desire to be part of a pan-Indonesian youth body. On 10 December it declared itself PESINDO, long after its East Sumatran equivalent had done so and obviously with some reluctance. This step increased the distinction between the urban and educated youth within it and the rural supporters of the Mujahidin. At about the same time the Divisi Rencong took definite shape as PESINDO'S fighting force. It was based at the Lhoknga camp vacated by the Japanese and took over most of the vast armoury the Japanese left there. Njak Neh, one of the first Pemuda PUSA youths to have received Giyugun officer training, left the T K R to lead Divisi Rencong. The unit specialized in heavy artillery and anti-aircraft weaponry, and trained many Acehnese in the use of arms. Japanese expertise was particularly valuable in such matters, and about fifteen Japanese defectors concentrated at the Lhoknga base to serve with PESINDO. Their leader was the once-feared head of the Tokobetsu Keisatsutai in Aceh, Kuroiwa. As a later Republican investigator remarked: It is very strange that after the Japanese capitulation his cruelties were forgotten by the people, and he was quickly able to influence people and gain their full confidence in Lhoknga . . . where the power centre of PESINDO is. He became the strong man of PESINDO, handled with respect by PESINDO leaders of our own nationality.44 The new Japanese concentration at Blang Bintang was soon under siege in a manner which threatened to repeat the Lhoknga battle. By early December it was obvious that the Japanese in most parts of Aceh could serve no function useful to the Allies and would have great difficulty even defending themselves. All were evacuated from Aceh in the second half of December. The powerful garrison at Blang Bintang

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mounted a formidable dawn operation on 15 December to clear a path to the coastal embarkation point, seizing the top T K R officers as hostages for their safe escape. The Japanese were taken by ship from West Aceh on 18 December, from Aceh Besar on the 19th and from Pidie on the 20th. They left behind a large proportion of their arms and over 100 of their colleagues who had decided to fight on in another cause. 45 POLARIZATION

IN

PIDIE

Throughout Indonesia there were conflicts between waverers and Republican enthusiasts, between those who stood to gain or to lose by a Dutch restoration. In the Pidie region of Aceh, however, the peculiarly bitter heritage of rivalry between uleebalang and a PUSA-led populist movement gave a unique intensity to the conflict, which quickly assumed the character of a small-scale civil war. A major factor in this polarization was the activity of one headstrong man, Teuku Mohammad Daud of Cumbok. 46 Mohammad Daud, guncho of Lammeulo throughout the Japanese and early Republican period, was a man of considerable personal courage, not to say recklessness. He made no secret of his unpopular opinions even to staunch Republicans. He preferred action to diplomacy. He wished to be unquestioned master in his own house, and this included an arrogant disregard even for those ulama who might have tried to keep him on the straight and narrow path. As an indication, he organized a pasar malam in Lammeulo during November in defiance of the Resident's ban, at which a good deal of gambling and drinking took place. He invited all the prominent local ulama to attend a feast. Reportedly he went out of his way to scandalize the few who attended by trying to get them all drunk, saying, 'I will end like you coming to God in a good sheet, but only after this pasar malam, and after enjoying the good things of this world.' 47 And enjoy them he did, with a hearty appetite. He was one of tlhose strong-minded Acehnese able to inspire great loyalty among his fdjlowers, and a respectful hatred on the part of his enemies. Daud was the first ideebalang to send an envoy to the Dutch officials interned in Rantau Prapat, on 15 September, to express hope for their speedy return to Aceh. 48 As the popular movement for merdeka got under way in October, he was one of the few to show not just caution but open hostility towards it. When pemuda first raised the merah-putih in front of his office in September he had it pulled down at once rather than leave the task to the Japanese like most of his colleagues. Similarly he had his men pull down pro-Republican posters put up by the PRI, and made no secret of his conviction that Indonesia was incapable of independence. This attitude led quickly to clashes between his own

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rakan (traditional followers) and the PRI. The conflict reached the point on 3 November that some PRI leaders were arrested and beaten. Finally on 8 November, three days after the PRI had managed to stage an independence rally and procession, PRI headquarters in Lammeulo were seized by Daud Cumbok's men and the PRI leaders forbidden to enter the town. 49 A clear challenge had been thrown at the whole Republican movement. Cumbok was in every way an extreme figure. None of the other uleebalang of Pidie desired any premature open challenge to the Republic. Some of them genuinely supported independence. What they did want was the restoration of their pre-war powers and the punishment of those who had most openly attacked them under the Japanese. As the assumption that they would achieve their goals through a restored Dutch regime began to weaken, some positive action was required. On 22 October, all but one of the uleebalang of the Pidie region met at a kenduri at the house of the wealthy T . Oemar Keumangan in Beureunun. Teuku Oemar expressed the view that the uleebalang had no quarrel with independence as such, but needed an assurance that their powers would be recognized by the new regime. No more definite decision appears to have resulted. 50 It was probably shortly after this meeting that the Pidie uleebalang sent a telegram to Sukarno pledging support for the Republic provided their positions were guaranteed. 51 Nevertheless Daud Cumbok played an increasingly important role in Pidie developments, partly because he took such a bold position and partly because he put together the strongest military force in the region. He used former KNIL personnel and one or two Japanese to train his supporters in the use of weapons. T o help recruit men for this force he reportedly spread word that he was authorized by the Allies to organize a peace-keeping unit in Pidie. Already in October his son T . M. Hassan claimed that the Cumbok force possessed over 100 weapons, including cannon and mortar. Ultimately Daud Cumbok cornered the lion's share of the Japanese arms and supplies in the Lammeulo district. 52 This strength was the main basis of Daud's appeal, both to his more hesitant fellovf-uleebalang and his potential supporters. Although the PRI in Sigli and the uleebalang-dominated 'official' government of Assistant-Resident, guncho, and T K R both acted in the name of Indonesia merdeka, there was from the beginning no trust between them. The 1940-2 polarization in Pidie, exacerbated by the 1944 conflict over the judiciary, had left no neutral leaders with the respect of both sides. The PRI branch which formed in Sigli was headed by Hasan Aly 53 and T . A. Hasan, who both had long-standing quarrels with some of the Pidie uleebalang. Both were from small-trade backgrounds in the kampungs of Aree and Garut, slightly up-river from

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Sigli, traditional centres both of commerce and of anti-uleebalang leadership. The first PRI rally was held in Aree on 24 October, followed by enthusiastic meetings throughout Pidie during the ensuing week. 54 The leading speakers were uniformly PUSA or Pemuda PUSA men, with Daud Beureu'eh prominent among them, while the new element of young modern-educated nationalists was much weaker than in Kutaraja. Although the earliest PRI rallies appear to have followed the urban pemuda pattern of flag-raising and nationalist enthusiasm, the distinctly Islamic character of the Pidie popular movement was quickly apparent. Daud Beureu'eh, in touch with the secular leaders as a result of the Japanese experience, appears to have been the first of the recognized ulama to come out strongly for the Republic. As we have seen he addressed the October rally in Kutaraja and persuaded three other ulama to join him in declaring a holy war. Daud Beureu'eh also addressed the first large gathering of ulama to support the resistance at the mosque of Tiro, spiritual centre of resistance during the last phase of the Aceh war. The 600 Pidie ulama who met there on 16 November could hardly have done more to stress the continuity of the holy war tradition. Teungku Oemar Tiro, grandson of the greatest Islamic hero of the Aceh war, was chosen as patron of the Mujahidin force which they launched. 55 What this holy war might imply for the recalcitrant uleebalang was made clear in a declaration by the subsequent ulama meeting in Aceh Besar: 1. The law for the holy war was now Fardlu 'ain56 (obligatory on every Muslim); 2. War expenses would come from Baitalmaal (religious treasury); Zakat (the religious tax on agriculture); and support from the wealthy. 3. The law for a traitor was the same as that for a kafir.bl As the rival forces in Pidie became more sharply polarized, the question became more urgent who would obtain the greater share of the remaining Japanese arms. On Allied instructions only one Japanese company, the Sakata-ta*, had remained in Pidie when the pressure began to rise in October. Its function was ostensibly to keep order as well as to safeguard arms and vital Dutch installations, but after an incident at Meureudu on 3 November it withdrew to a purely defensive stance at its barracks in Pineueng, near Sigli. 58 It appears to have been a demonstration at the beginning of November under PRI auspices which produced the first transfer of weapons, although the moral authority of T . Njak Arif and the 'official' Republic was at that stage sufficient to have them handed over to the T K R in Sigli. 59 The PUSA-oriented PRI group did not continue this co-operative

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approach to the T K R . Husein Sab, 60 a pre-war medicine-seller and PUSA leader, used to good effect the Japanese contacts he had made through the F-kikan. During November he collected about thirty firearms from various individual Japanese, and used them to form the armed pasukan of the Sigli PRI. 6 1 Only one civilian Japanese administrator remained at his post in November, lino's trusted trouble-shooter Muramoto. 62 The chokan sent him back to Pidie with explicit instructions 'to intensify the conflict between uleebalang and ulama' so as to remove Acehnese pressure on the Japanese troop concentrations in Aceh Besar. 63 Muramoto calculated that it was important to retain a 'balance of power' between the two basic forces in Pidie, and that the uleebalang were becoming the weaker party by the end of November. He therefore gave a dozen rifles secretly to the guncho of Sigli, T. Cut Hasan, knowing they would be used by the uleebalang party. 64 As the transfer of arms on a large scale began to occur elsewhere, the T K R in Kutaraja sent envoys to Sigli to promote the standard tactics there. Muramoto had no intention of allowing such a surrender in Pidie, but he kept tension high by promising that the bulk of the weapons would be handed over only on 4 December. The PRI, T K R , and the uleebalang were separately advised of this, and preparations began for a massive influx to the city to ensure that the Japanese kept their word. In the last week of November about 200 armed supporters of the Pidie uleebalang entered the town at night, and established themselves in the houses of T . Cut Hasan and the uleebalang of Pidie. As 4 December approached they blocked the major road entry to Sigli and detained anyone whom they thought might be coming to the town to help the PRI obtain the Japanese weapons. Several PRI leaders, including Osman Raliby and Hasballah Daud, were briefly but roughly detained by them and further embittered. The PRI unit in Sigli, also hoping to obtain the Japanese weapons but less well-armed than the uleebalang, evacuated to the cast, leaving the town in their hands. T h e PRI leaders Hasan Aly and Husein Sab now mobilized their respective followers in Garut and Gigieng against the uleebalang in the town. By nightfall on 3 December it was the uleebalang group which was surrounded. The PRI had some firearms including two machine guns operated by Japanese. Their strength however lay in the thousands of villagers they had now mobilized, dressed in the black clothing of martyrdom and armed only with parang and spears. The march of their long columns towards the uleebalang stronghold took on inevitably the character of a holy war, with many reciting prayers and passages from the Hikayat Perang Sabil as they marched. Some thought they were going to fight the uleebalang,

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some the Japanese, others still the Dutch. 65 At this tense stage the Kutaraja leadership intervened. Sjammaun Gaharu led a small T K R party to Sigli, which apparently believed its role was to supervise a mock battle resulting in the transfer of arms to the T K R . Shortly behind this party came Panglima Polim representing the Aceh Government, while Teuku Djohan Meuraxa arrived from Medan as the envoy of the Sumatran Governor. A conference with the Japanese in the morning of 4 December proceeded smoothly, Muramoto agreeing to transfer a large quantity of arms to the T K R . At about 3 p.m. Sjammaun Gaharu met the leaders of the PRI force outside the town, and attempted to persuade them to disperse since their objectives had already been realized. While he was negotiating, the rising panic among the outnumbered men in the house of the uleebalang of Pidie apparently spilled over. Three shots were suddenly fired from the house into the crowd of demonstrators. Chaos immediately broke out. The bulk of the crowd tried to flee, while the better-armed PRI groups returned the fire. About fifty people were killed in the melee, including Sjammaun Gaharu's adjutant. Most of the dead were among the PRI-led crowd. They included T . Rizad, a T K R officer in Sigli who had joined the PRI-led demonstration, and T . Banta Sjam, a PRI and PUSA leader from Padang Tiji. Sjammaun Gaharu fled towards Kutaraja but attempted to return the following day. He was captured and nearly killed in the PRI stronghold at Garut, because the demonstrators believed he had encouraged the T K R unit to fire on them. Meanwhile battle lines were drawn up around the few hundred armed uleebalang supporters. Fighting continued for two days and nights and the Japanese reported hundreds killed. The T K R force in Sigli was helpless to interfere. Some of its members, led by the brother of the uleebalang of Keumangan, had joined the uleebalang group, while the remainder were suspect because of their action during the initial clash. T . Njak Arif sent a T K R detachment from Kutaraja to make peace, but this was disarmed and sent back to Kutaraja by an angry mob which gathered in Seulimeum. The Resident then sent a stronger force of his ex-KNiL 'special police' together with the T K R Chief of Staff, T. Hamid Azwar. Convinced that things had now got seriously out of hand, Muramoto was also tireless in his efforts to arrange a peace. Although there were many on the PRI side who demanded a showdown to crush the few hundred uleebalang followers in Sigli, these authorities succeeded on 6 December in negotiating a ceasefire between Hasan Aly and the uleebalang leaders. It was agreed that everybody would return home, Sigli would revert to the control of Republican officials, and any Japanese arms would be taken to Kutaraja for the TKR. 6 6

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE THE CUMBOK

WAR

The consequences of the confused panic of 4 December were momentous. The breach between uleebalang and their enemies in Pidie was now too wide for any Republican diplomacy to bridge. The death of many villagers confirmed the popular picture of Pidie" uleebalang as monsters of cruelty, and the leadership of those who had long-standing grievances against the traditional elite. Uleebalang fears were also intensified about the bleak future they would face in a 'democratic' Aceh. For all his faults, Teuku Daud Cumbok appeared the only man now likely to be able to save them. After the conclusion of the Sigli fighting no uleebalang felt safe in Sigli. The uleebalang of Pidie fled to Lueng Putu (Njong), and the Assistant-Resident, T . Cut Hasan, to Meureudu. Further envoys were urgently sent to beg help from the Dutch in Medan, but most of them appear to have been seized by pemuda on the way. 67 On or before 10 December, most of the Pidie uleebalang met again at Lueng Putu. This time they appear to have accepted the necessity for Daud Cumbok's strong-arm methods. It was agreed that his armed unit would become the kernel of an uleebalang peace-keeping force (BPK), and other uleebalang would send their men to Lammeulo for training. Besides the main stronghold at Lammeulo, lesser fortifications would be built at Meureudu and Lueng Putu. Some others also tried to strengthen their own houses, particularly T. Oemar Keumangan, who refused to have any truck with Daud Cumbok because of an ancient feud between the two families.68 Almost immediately after this uleebalang meeting the Sumatran Governor arrived in Sigli by car, having been urged by the Japanese to curb the increasing pressure on Japanese troops there. His attempts to bridge the rift were ineffective. Daud Cumbok declined to meet him, but sent his younger brother who complained it was the PUSA people who surrounded Lammeulo. The only positive result of his visit was to remove T . Cut Hasan, now useless as a neutral mediator, as AssistantResident. He summoned from Kutaraja T . Chik Mohamad Said (Cunda), the famous Sarekat Islam leader of 1918-20, who was initially acceptable to both sides. 69 But as with Mr Hasan himself, Mohamad Said's attempts to preach reconciliation and legality were ignored by the uleebalang, and regarded as evidence of treachery by the other side. Teuku Daud Cumbok himself was more than ever convinced by the Sigli events that safety lay in cowing his enemies with a confident show of force. Far from making concessions to popular feeling, he appears to have believed that defiance was the best means of demonstrating his strength and retaining his following. At a time when religious feeling

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was being mobilized against him he went out of his way to alienate those few ulama who were tempted to remain loyal to him. 70 Following the Lueng Putu meeting, Daud Cumbok took the initiative in punishing all those within his reach who were prominent PUSA or PRI figures and potential leaders of resistance. On the nights of 10 and 11 December his men raided the homes of four of the most prominent leaders of the Lammeulo PRI, though the men themselves had fled. A considerable amount of clothing and valuables was seized. His men acted roughly towards their opponents, and exaggerated stories quickly began to spread about Cumbok's barbarities and the special Cap Sauh ('Anchor') and Cap Tombak ('Spear') units whose tasks were allegedly to plunder, kidnap, and kill indiscriminately. 71 Presumably also as a result of the Lueng Putu meeting and Daud Cumbok's urging, early on 11 December Teuku Ma'ali of Samaindra launched an attack on the PUSA-group's headquarters at Garut, which lay within his territory. But unlike Cumbok he was a cautious, indecisive leader, and his attack came to nothing. T . Chik Mohamad Said was able to come from Sigli and persuade him to withdraw, pending a settlement under Republican auspices of all grievances. 72 Soon after Teuku Daud turned his attention to Me Tareuem, a village 7 km. from Lammeulo which possessed the principal Islamic school in the district. It had become the centre of operations for many of the ulama and PRI and PUSA activists who had fled from Lammeulo. Teuku Daud's strategy appears again to have been to frighten his opponents away by a show of strength. On 16 December he lobbed some mortar shells into the village from a nearby hill, causing considerable damage though few casualties. The result was the reverse of what he had intended. News of the attack spread quickly, people in a much wider area than Lammeulo district were outraged, and Daud Beureu'eh began to demand action from the K N I in Kutaraja. The new AssistantResident hurried from Sigli to Me Tareuem and then Lammeulo. After talking to T . Daud Cumbok, he returned to try to soothe the militants of Me Tareuem by telling them that Cumbok was not attacking them but just on 'a training exercise'. There was perhaps little more that he could have done to avert the coming crisis, but this episode ended his credibility to the PUSA people who henceforth classed him with the uleebalang.13 The antagonism in Pidie was rapidly assuming the shape of a civil war, with the official Republican presence no longer capable of attracting non-partisan loyalty. Determined to get Japanese weapons into their own hands, anti-uleebalang leaders took the initiative in the areas east of Pidie well endowed with Japanese arms. After his involvement in the 4 December incident, Hasballah Daud led a raid on the house of the

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guncho of Bireuen, Teuku Idris, and by threatening him with a pistol took possession of the armoury which had been taken from the Japanese in November. The withdrawal by rail of the last Japanese presence in Lhokseumawe and Bireuen on 20 December provided another opportunity for the transfer of arms on a large scale, most of them ending in anti-uleebalang hands. 74 In Pidie itself Hasan Aly attempted to co-ordinate the activities of the various armed pemuda groups through the establishment in Garut on 22 December of a Pusat Markas Barisan Rakyat (Central H Q of the People's Forces). This had only a limited success in co-ordinating the activities of the best-equipped pasukan, like Husein Sab's in Gigieng and Hasballah Daud's which now made its base at Gle Gapui (Me Tareuem mukim). It was more successful politically, propagating a picture of Daud Cumbok as a diabolical evildoer and enemy of religion and maintaining pressure on the government in Kutaraja, primarily through Daud Beureu'eh, to intervene against Cumbok. The first attack on the Lammeulo stronghold inspired by the Pusat Markas took place on Christmas eve, because of reports that Daud Cumbok was planning a major offensive on the 25th. It was easily repulsed, but drew a characteristically forceful response from the uleebalang leader. On 30 December he launched a full-scale offensive against P U S A / P R I centres in the Me Tareuem district. His force advanced along the road to Garut and Sigli, easily overcoming the light resistance offered by the pemuda in Me Tareuem. It destroyed or burned the buildings erected for the controversial hoin in 1944, such centres of pemuda activity as PRI offices and religious schools, and the homes of people suspected of involvement in the attack on Lammeulo. At Titeue a religious school, the centre of local P U S A / P R I activities, was burned down. 75 In his own district Daud Cumbok had ensured that there was nobody who could resist such a show of strength. Indeed in the whole of the Pidie region the uleebalang forces were probably stronger than their opponents in organization and armament, if not in numbers. As long as Daud Cumbok exploited a reputation for power by his aggressive showing, he could rely on a mystique of supernatural strength which it would be folly to resist. Daud himself, and the much-disliked T . Laksamana Oemar (Njong), were popularly believed invulnerable to bullets. Daud's bravado was well illustrated by the challenge he threw out to his attackers on 1 January: . . . if you . . . have not yet been brought to your senses by the losses of the last few days, and still want to fight with us as men . . . build your strongholds outside the villages, in places you consider strong enough. When your defences are complete, check once more whether those defences are strong enough. . . . Then inform us so that we may come to attack.76

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Daud Cumbok was checked, however, by forces from outside Pidie proper, brought into the arena by his very excesses. His advance towards Garut was halted in the first days of January primarily by two wellarmed units brought to Pidie by the growing propaganda against him. These were the Barisan Mati from Tangse and a group from Peudaya (Padang Tiji district) under Djuned Effendi. Large numbers of ill-organized Mujahidin flocked to Sigli and Garut at the beginning of January to take part in the struggle, but it was only the better-equipped and organized pasukan which were a serious danger to the fortified uleebalang centres. The most formidably armed group came from the Bireuen area where so many Japanese arms had been seized. The lack of leadership for these Mujahidin was made good with the arrival in Bireuen of Tgk. Abdul Wahab (Seulimeum), on his way back from the M I T Islamic Conference in Bukittinggi which had elected him leader of the Mujahidin throughout Sumatra. He quickly mobilized the reformist ulama of the area, and brought in Hasballah Trienggading, a former Giyugun lieutenant, to train and lead the fighting force. About 100 well-armed men with more than ten bren-guns began their advance towards Lammeulo in late December. The first uleebalang to go under were those who had been holding out at Meureudu against a small PRI unit. Hasballah's men quickly took the uleebalang stockade and killed or captured all its occupants. They moved on to Lueng Putu, where the uleebalang of Njong, Pidie, and some smaller states put up a stronger resistance. After a pitched battle the fortified house of the ruler of Njong was taken, and the uleebalang again killed. Growing ever larger and more confident, Hasballah's force advanced on Beureunun, where the Keumangan family was overcome and killed despite some assistance from Lammeulo. The invading force from the east, now with about 5,000 followers and many captured arms, finally arrived in triumph to join the local forces preparing for the final attack on Lammeulo itself.77 The semi-legendary strength of Daud Cumbok gave pause even to the massive attacking force assembled against him at the beginning of January. To provide both additional strength and legitimation for the final battle, the Pusat Markas in Garut was anxious to involve the Republic and the T K R officially. Daud Beureu'eh brought the matter up repeatedly in the Aceh K N I . Even though PUSA sympathizers formed about half of the new 72-member K N I formed on 25 December, 78 the influence of moderates anxious to avoid a showdown at all costs was evident in the hesitation of the Committee. Finally, at the eleventh hour, the initiative was taken by the Markas Besar Rakyat Umum, a body embracing leaders of the T K R , parties, and armed barisan in

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Kutaraja. At a meeting on 8 January it formulated two statements issued over the signatures of the Deputy Resident for the Government, and Sjammaun Gaharu for the Markas Besar. The first declared 'that the group which is established at Cumbok (Lammeulo) and other places, who are armed and are resisting the people, are traitors and enemies of the Republic'. The second issued an ultimatum to the Cumbok group to surrender by midday on 10 January, or be crushed by force. A detachment of 'special police' and T K R was immediately dispatched to back up these demands and to participate in the final struggle. 79 The official army nevertheless played little more than a token part in the battle of Lammeulo. More substantial help came from Seulimeum in the form of a heavily-armed Mujahidin unit. Approximately a hundred armed defenders of Lammeulo were now faced with five times that number of besiegers armed with machineguns and mortars as well as rifles. Behind them were thousands of unarmed villagers wanting to join the fight. After the arrival of these last reinforcements, the final attack was launched on 12 January. Heavy fighting continued throughout the day. By nightfall the outcome could no longer be in doubt, but the attackers relaxed sufficiently to allow Daud Cumbok and over ninety followers to flee into the jungle. They headed for the range of hills between Pidie and Aceh Besar, evidently hoping to work their way along the ridge to a point where they could commandeer boats and escape to Sabang. With thousands of men pursuing them, however, they were soon surrounded on the slopes of Mount Seulawah. Again there was a pitched battle, but on 16 January the survivors surrendered. They were taken in triumph into Sigli on the train, and then to the headquarters of the Pusat Markas in Garut, where they were each made to stand on a table and shout merdeka before a huge crowd. Semangat Merdeka issued a special red and white number to celebrate the victory. 80 The Cumbok war was over, and Lammeulo was no more. It was renamed Kota Bakti—City of Devoted Service—in honour of those who died.

THE DESTRUCTION

OF U L E E B A L A N G

AUTHORITY

The leadership of ulama and the Muslim-educated in mobilizing the anti-Cumbok forces provided a degree of direction and discipline not found in other populist and peasant movements in Indonesia. Before the final assault the Pusat Markas issued this appeal to the warriors: Brother Muslims! Our present struggle is to wipe out all crime and treachery to the Fatherland. For that reason we hope that such crime will not arise on our side, i. Do not burn houses, whoever they belong to. 2. Do not take private property, even if it is of no value.

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3. All those taken prisoner must be treated well. 4. Refrain absolutely from striking a wounded enemy, for God will not help those who are cruel, and will not receive their prayers.81 Nobody could stop the people of Keumangan burning to the ground the magnificent house of T . Oemar Keumangan, the most wealthy and the most hated of the Pidie uleebalang. His assets to an estimated value of 12 million rupiahs were confiscated by the Aceh government. 82 The religious character of the struggle however ruled out the large-scale appropriation of plundered property for private purposes which was to occur later in East Sumatra. Killing was another matter. The K N I met in Kutaraja immediately after the fighting and accepted a proposal from the head of the Aceh justice department, Mr S. M. Amin, that all the prisoners be brought to Kutaraja for trial, with Hasan Aly to act as prosecuting attorney. But neither the instructions of the K N I and the Acting Resident, nor even the personal appeal of Daud Beureu'eh to his normally devoted followers, could prevent a large-scale massacre. T h e most prominent uleebalang were usually taken out and shot by their captors after being exhibited for a few days as trophies of war. Daud Cumbok himself died with characteristic courage, respected even by his opponents in battle. He is said to have chosen the manner of his death, lying down in the grave prepared for him, repeating the Muslim shahadat (confession) and then crying 'Fire!' 8 3 All the leading uleebalang in Pidie were killed, including the successive Assistant-Residents, T. Cut Hasan and T . Chik Mohamad Said—outsiders and nationalists who were sucked into the bitter conflict despite themselves. The Assistant-Resident of Aceh Besar, T . Ahmad Jeunieb, was kidnapped from his home in Kutaraja at the same time and killed, evidently because of his connexions with the Pidie uleebalang. Only two of the twenty-five rulers in Pidie are known to have survived the killing— the uleebalang of Pineueng, who was Governor Hasan's father, and the uleebalang of Trienggading, who was protected by Hasballah Trienggading. Politically unimportant members of uleebalang families were often killed by villagers rather than by the victorious armed pasukan. Some families were virtually wiped out, like those of Njong and Meureudu. Several hundred must have perished altogether. 84 As Teungku Abdul Wahab later explained, 'in a time of such cruel and fierce warfare', it was not easy to distinguish innocent people from Cumbok followers.85 The destruction of the Pidie uleebalang had a profound effect on the nature of Republican government throughout Aceh. At a huge PESINDO Conference in Kutaraja a motion expressed in strong terms the lessons of the Cumbok war. It had taken place because of the failings of government in ignoring the views of the people and allowing authority

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to be monopolized by a few individuals appointed from above. Not only had the Cumbok group been allowed to go unchecked for too long, but government in general in Aceh 'is virtually not operating in any meaningful sense'. It would only function effectively if officials were trusted by the people, and those who were not must immediately be replaced in conformity with the principle of popular sovereignty. 86 T h e first district to give effect to this principle was Meulaboh (West Aceh), where a K N I comprising uleebalang, kadhi, and pergerakan leaders had voted on 8 January to replace the Assistant Resident of West Aceh by a local man, the chairman of the Meulaboh court, Ibnu Saadan. As konteler (controleur) of Meulaboh it chose the uleebalang of Seuneu'am, Tuanku Abdullah. 'The people of West Aceh', they announced, 'would accept no others.' 87 In Pidie the will of the people was expressed in a meeting of about 200 leaders of the victorious forces. Teungku Abdul Wahab, the fighting ulama from Seulimeum who had presided over the last stages of the battle, was elected as Assistant Resident, with Hasan Aly to assist him. PUSA leaders were also appointed as controleurs of Sigli, Lammeulo, and Meureudu,—in the last case the kadhi being simply moved up to secular office.88 At every level the hierarchy of government began to be questioned, with mounting calls for elections for every office from keucik (village head) to Resident. The position of T . Njak Arif was seriously shaken by the Cumbok affair. Already in mid-December Governor Hasan had granted him two months sick leave in response to the Resident's own request and numerous complaints over his handling of the Pidie uleebalang and the Allied representatives. T . Chik Daudsjah 89 was named as his temporary replacement, probably on the recommendation of Xarim M. S. and Hoesain Almujahid who had found him sympathetic to the pergerakan as an official in East Aceh. Not until after the Cumbok affair, however, on 21 January, did Daudsjah come to Kutaraja and relieve Njak Arif of his responsibilities. T . Daudsjah was more of a modern bureaucrat than the forceful political uleebalang who had hitherto dominated the Aceh government, and had few enemies in any quarter. T h e concern which the Pidie purges aroused among the traditional elite was evident from a meeting convened by Panglima Polim on 14 February. Polim persuaded his colleagues to pass a motion 'that the hereditary system by which uleebalang have customarily ruled their statelets for centuries is no longer in conformity with the times'. The uleebalang of the X X I I Mukim therefore asked the Government for permission to resign to make way for elections of new heads. 90 Their weaker economic and administrative position in directly-ruled Aceh Besar under the Dutch, and the co-operation of Polim with the ulama

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in the 1942 uprising, had made this area especially resistant to the polarizing process which occurred in Pidie. There were nevertheless other areas, in West Aceh particularly, which might have followed Polim's example and provided uleebalang with a new type of quasi-democratic leadership in their statelets. Such moves were overtaken by an irruption of social revolutionary enthusiasm from the eastern corner of Aceh, in Langsa. With the withdrawal of Japanese troops everywhere else in Aceh, the Langsa area became the 'front' for continuing small-scale warfare. The Allied command was determined to use the Japanese as a 'protective screen' to prevent 'fanatic' and well-armed Acehnese from descending on the Medan area. 91 Langsa itself proved too hot to hold, however. Pressure mounted rapidly after the withdrawal of the other garrisons, and thousands of armed and unarmed Acehnese laid virtual siege to the Japanese post. Captain Adachi, having apparently lost all his enthusiasm for Acehnese resistance to the Allies, now took on the role of masterminding a Japanese strategic retreat. On 22 December he negotiated the withdrawal of the besieged garrison in return for the loss of most of its arms. Two days later a reinforced Japanese battalion launched a full-scale attack on the town. The T K R and a Mujahidin unit lost heavily in a stubborn defence at the outskirts of Langsa, giving the officials and youth leaders time to evacuate the town. Two days of savage Japanese reprisals followed, with many killed and captured and a few arms regained. From all over northern Aceh units began to advance to try to retake Langsa, but the Japanese themselves retired on the 27th to a more defensible position to the south. Mr Hasan and Xarim M. S. were brought in to conduct lengthy and often bitter negotiations for a cease-fire. By the end of the month it was agreed that the new front for the Japanese 'screen' would be in Kuala Simpang, close to the border with East Sumatra. 92 The cease-fire arrangement was far from popular among fighting pemuda, who demanded that the Japanese be driven right out of Aceh and beyond. Some of the T K R units in the area between Bireuen and Langsa joined a new body called Tentara Pemberontakan Rakyat (People's Insurgent Force) saying there was too much keamanan (peacekeeping) in the Tentara Keamanan Rakyat. 93 The bitter fighting in Pidie for a time distracted attention from the Langsa front, one of the reasons why many nationalists had tried to avoid a showdown with Cumbok. Once the uleebalang resistance there was broken, however, a number of battle-hardened pasukan answered the call to go and renew the confrontation with the Japanese in Kuala Simpang. Among them was the tough unit of Mujahidin which Hasballah Daud had commanded in the Cumbok fighting, now entrusted to the leadership of Hoesain

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Almujahid. In early February there were estimated to be between eight and fourteen thousand armed pemuda concentrated in Langsa. 94 It was an ideal opportunity for a more radical leadership to take the initiative. Nathar Zainuddin was once again on the spot, and it appears to have been he and his old friend Hoesain Almujahid who planned the coup against the Langsa establishment on the night of 12 February. The authority of the Assistant-Resident who had replaced T . Daudsjah, T . Radja Pidie, the controleur of Langsa, T. Ali Basjah, and a number of other uleebalang and police, had been gravely compromised by their negotiations with the Japanese. The purge was directed primarily against them, though it involved disarming and arresting the whole Langsa police force. T . Radja Pidie escaped to the Japanese in Kuala Simpang, though he was later returned by them. T. Ali Basjah and other uleebalang and officials were arrested after a brief skirmish. For several days there was confusion in Langsa, as the uleebalang were able to call upon some powerful support among pemuda pasukan. The most significant force ranged against Hoesain Almujahid's takeover was the 500 men commanded by T . Ibrahim Cunda, a nephew of the slain Assistant-Resident T. Chik Mohamad Said. Although his force was a part of the T K R and then of the more radical T P R it had attempted to even a few scores from the killings in Pidie, and now sought to prevent Almujahid gaining the upper hand in East Aceh. The Mujahidin brought east by Hoesain after the Cumbok fighting were able to surround and capture Teuku Ibrahim in the mosque of Idi on 16 February. Teuku Ibrahim was one of those who had earned a reputation for magical invulnerability, and few wanted to tackle him in open battle. According to popular belief the Mujahidin were unable to execute him until he showed them the single point of vulnerability inside his mouth. 95 This victory left Almujahid master of East Aceh. A meeting of all government and popular leaders was quickly arranged, and the victorious Pemuda PUSA group announced that Abdullah Hussain, the former Langsa police chief fortunate enough to have been absent during the Japanese troubles, would be the new Assistant-Resident. When he protested one of them stuck a gun in his chest and shouted, 'If he doesn't want to be Assistant Resident we will make him controleur, and if he doesn't want that either we will give it to him with this!' Abdullah swiftly accepted the lower office and T . Daudsjah's younger brother Ali was drafted as Assistant-Resident. 96 With East Aceh temporarily settled, Hoesain Almujahid led a few hundred men in trucks in a sweep along the north coast of Aceh. He called his force T P R like the group which had first become disillusioned with army leadership, but the meaning of the initials was at some point changed to Tentera Perjuangan Rakyat (Army of the People's Struggle)

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in an attempt to obtain the widest possible support. Its first objective was to act against the allies of Teuku Ibrahim in the Lhokseumawe area. A few were killed, and all uleebalang taken captive along with their more important relatives. About 200 members of their families were interned in the Lhokseumawe prison. Almujahid's TPR, gathering additional support all the time, then moved westward towards Sigli and Kutaraja. Its motives appear to have been as mixed as the elements which attached themselves to it. Nathar Zainuddin's influence was apparent in one of their slogans, to 'destroy the feudal elements which still remain'. 97 They also demanded a change in the leadership of both the government and the army, since Njak Arif and Sjammaun Gaharu had 'given ample opportunity to traitors to carry on their affairs, as was apparent in the slaughter of people in Sigli, Cumbok, Cunda, and Langsa, where the T K R stood on the sidelines'. 98 Finally there was undoubtedly a large element of personal opportunism on the part of Hoesain Almujahid, who demanded that he be given the highest military rank in Aceh, replacing T . Njak Arif as honorary Major-General. This bravado aroused great resentment among the battle-hardened leaders of Pidie and Aceh Besar. When Hoesain Almujahid reached Seulimeum at the end of February, with about 1,000 men and fifty trucks now in support, he wisely halted his advance for negotiations. Some of the T K R (now renamed T R I ) were preparing to put up a fight, but the principal PUSA leaders as well as Njak Neh of PESINDO'S Divisi Rencong supported Almujahid's demands—and added some of their own. Teuku Njak Arif himself, too ill to return to active work and anxious to avoid further civil war, decided the issue by agreeing to his own arrest. On 1 March the two highest T R I officers, Sjammaun Gaharu and T . Abdul Hamid Azwar, stepped down in favour of Hoesin Joesoef. The T P R force moved in to occupy Kutaraja in an atmosphere of superficial harmony. More demands were however forthcoming, for the removal of all officials who had opposed PUSA in the past or who were thought to represent a continuation of the uleebalang style of government. On 6 March twenty-four prominent people were summoned by T . Daudsjah for a briefing and then detained, including a number of uleebalang prominent in government, the Muhammadiah theologian Hasbi AsSiddiqy, and even a number of close supporters of Said Abu Bakar. 99 The T P R resembled an unpredictable gun pointed at the Acehnese ruling elite. The sacrifice of uleebalang rule seemed a price worth paying to prevent it going off and precipitating another trauma like that in Pidie. All the ruling uleebalang of Aceh Besar were interned, while a section of the T P R accompanied by Njak Neh toured the west coast as far south as Singkil arresting others there. All the detainees were eventually brought together in the highland resort of Takengon in April,

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where T. Njak Arif's diabetes finally killed him two months later. Hoesain Almujahid was granted his title of Major-General, but his extraordinary power was short-lived. Daud Beureu'eh himself soon demanded that his massive force leave Aceh Besar where its impositions were becoming intolerable to the populace. An honourable farewell was arranged at the great mosque on 9 March, and the T P R returned home. On Almujahid's next visit to Kutaraja later in the month the growing number of his enemies caught up with him. He was kidnapped at the Aceh Hotel and taken off 'trussed like a pig' to be dealt with by Husein Sab, whose brother Sab Cut he was alleged to have murdered in Lhokseumawe. He escaped through the intervention of another pasukan, but was not again able to interfere with politics at the residency level. 100 Whatever his motives and his methods, the revolution he had helped to produce in Aceh society was undoubtedly a popular one. The Indonesian nationalism of the urban pemuda, the reformist idealism of the PUSA ulama, and the peasant demand for land and for justice appeared to have fused in a remarkable unity of purpose. The most influential figure in Aceh was now without question Daud Beureu'eh, who had remained sufficiently far above the heat of battle to be credited with the noble aims of the anti-uleebalang revolution rather than with its execution. Although he was accorded initially a rank only of AssistantResident, he was able to appeal in terms of a familiar religious idealism to everybody of influence in the new government. In each afdeling it was now a PUSA-oriented ulama who occupied the most prominent position, with non-Acehnese officials and pemuda nationalists seemingly able to work well with them. The new government established a commission to investigate the property of the uleebalang who had been killed as 'traitors', primarily in Pidie. A total of about 100 million rupiahs was thought to have been taken by the conquerors, and some of it remained with them as a return for their services or a compensation for losses suffered at uleebalang hands. Most of it was however surrendered to government control, and provided one of the resources from which official and military salaries could be more regularly paid than in other residencies. 101 Much of the vast land-holding of the Pidie uleebalang was given back to peasants who believed themselves unjustly robbed of it in the past. Some was retained by government and some returned to surviving members of the uleebalang families. The arrests also provided an opportunity for renewal at the village level. Each uleebalang was replaced by a five-man commission for an interim period of a few months, before a new head of each statelet could be elected. 102 Many unpopular keucik were also replaced, especially

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in Pidie and the north coast. Everywhere it was the religious teacher, the ulama, to whom villagers turned for guidance in this new and remarkable period. T h e long-term results of the upheaval were complex, particularly as they became enmeshed with wider Indonesian politics, but the immediate consequence was undoubtedly an invigoration and democratization of Acehnese society as a whole. 'Everything which had been a thorn in the side of the village people under the regime of the uleebalang was eliminated. Agriculture, estates, cattle-raising and so forth were all promoted energetically by the people.' 103

1. Abdullah Arif, Disekitar Peristiwa Pengchianat Tjoembok (Kutaraja, 1946), p. 26. This source will henceforth be cited from my English translation 'The affair of the Tjoembok traitors', in RIMA 4/5 (1970/1), pp. 36-57. 2. Talsya, in Sinar Darussalam, 11 (1969), p. 79. 3. Statements of Major Ishizima Tadakazu, November 1946; Captain Adachi Takashi, 31 October 1946; and General Shimura Fumie, 13 June 1946; RvO I.C. 059300, 059301, and 009406, respectively. Interviews Adachi Takashi and Aoki Eigoro, August 1973. 4. Abdullah Hussain, Peristiwa (Kuala Lumpur, Pustaka Antara, 1965), pp. 93-4. In an interview Adachi Takashi gave as a reason for not defying Itagaki's order to abandon the plan of the Nakano group their sense of responsibility for the inexperienced pilots who had come with them. General Shimura, on the other hand, adduced their hostile reception by Acehnese. 5. Nja Adam Kamil, in Modal Revolusi '45 (Kutaraja?, 1960), pp. 64-5. 6. 'Insider' [pseud. S. M. Amin], Atjeh Sepintas Lalu (Jakarta, 1950), p. 5. 7. Sjammaun Gaharu, in Modal Revolusi, p. 27. Abdullah Hussain, Peristiwa, pp. 22-6. T . A. Talsya, 'Tentera Kuomintang mau mendarat di Atjeh', Sinar Darussalam, 27 (1970), pp. 56-9. 8. A. J. Piekaar, Atjeh en de oorlog met Japan, p. 247. 9. 'Atjeh-verslag tot 15 Januari 1946', Bi.Z. 21/1, states that Hasan and Amir persuaded Sukarno to appoint Njak Arif Resident when they were in Jakarta in August. For telegrams from lakarta addressed to Njak Arif as Resident see Modal Revolusi, pp. 41-2, and Sinar Darussalam, 13, p . 70. 10. Panglima Polim, Memoir, p. 9. See also Abdullah Hussain, Peristiwa, pp. 6-7; Modal Revolusi, pp. 53-4. 11. Daily Sitrep, 12 November 1945, W O 203/2511. 12. Piekaar, pp. 248-9. Diary of Major Knottenbelt, Document 3490-A21 in ARA. Interviews. 13. Ali Hasjmy, in Modal Revolusi, pp. 54-6. Talsya in Sinar Darussalam, 10, pp. 8 3 - 5 ; and 11, pp. 79-80. Interviews. 14. Abdullah Hussain, Peristiwa, pp. 41-55.

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15. Sjammaun Gaharu was born in Pidie in 1916, and graduated from the Malay-medium teachers' college in Pematang Siantar in 1932. He then taught at the newly-opened Taman Siswa school in Kutaraja, learning Dutch at the same time from other teachers. He was able to study further in 1938-40 at a school for agricultural teachers in Bogor. He was one of the first group of Acehnese to enter the Giyugun and was commissioned First Lieutenant in May 1945. Later in his career Sjammaun again became military commander of the Aceh region (1957-60), before being pensioned in 1966 as a Brigadier-General. Nazaruddin Sjamsuddin, 'The Indonesian National Revolution in Aceh' (unpublished M.A. Thesis, Monash University, 1974), p. 245. Interview. 16. Sjammaun Gaharu, in Modal Revolusi, pp. 30-3. 17. Sjammaun Gaharu, in Modal Revolusi, pp. 33-4. Also Talsya, in Sinar Darussalam, 16, pp. 76-7. 18. Abdullah Hussain, Peristhva, p. 71. 19. Panglima Polim, p. 12. 20. Semangat Merdeka, no. 1, 18 October 1945. Republik Indonesia. Propinsi Sumatera Utara, pp. 31-2. Abdullah Hussain, Peristhva, pp. 81-4. 21. Nazaruddin Sjamsuddin, pp. 86-92 and 131. 22. Letter of 18 October, reproduced in Modal Revolusi, p. 57. 23. Abdullah Hussain, Peristiwa, pp. 81-4. Nazaruddin Sjamsuddin, p. 96. 24. Semangat Merdeka, 18 October 1945. 25. 'Makloemat Oelama Seloeroeh Atjeh', 15 October 1945, in Semangat Merdeka, 29 November 1945, and Modal Revolusi, p. 61. The statement was 'approved' by Tuanku Mahmud but only 'seen' by T . Njak Arif. 26. Semangat Merdeka, 20 and 27 November, 1 and 3 December 1945. 27. Ibid., 18 October 1945. 28. See appendix for the holders of these offices. 29. Ma'loemat P.R.I., no. 3, 31 October 1945 in Semangat Merdeka, 3 November 1945. 30. Semangat Merdeka, 10 and 22 November 1945. 31. Sjammaun Gaharu, in Modal Revolusi, p. 37. Atjeh-verslag tot 15 Januari 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. Interview. 32. Ma'loemat Residen Atjeh, no. 5, 8 November 1945, Semangat 10 November 1945.

Merdeka,

33. Piekaar, p. 249. Interviews. The Allied party was lucky to reach Medan. The commander of the Japanese escort wrote later that he had agreed with his men that in the event of an attack from Acehnese the Japanese would kill Knottenbelt first and then join the Indonesian resistance. Memoir Maeda Chui, (typescript, n.d.), p. 10. 34. Interview. 35. Knottenbelt telegraphic final report, quoted Piekaar, p. 249. 36. Verslag van de Gebeurtenissen in Pidie, 18 April 1946, Bi.Z. 21/9. Hoesin

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Joesoef and Sjammaun Gaharu, in Modal Revolusi, pp. 44 and 37 respectively. 37. Sjammaun Gaharu, in Modal Revolusi, p. 37. 38. Raliby, p . 122. Memoir Maeda Chui, pp. 19-35. Raliby claims dozens of lapanese killed, but Maeda only two. As a result of these and other clashes T . Idris had received twenty-five machine-guns and 227 rifles by the end of November; Verslag van de Gebeurtenissen in Pidie, 18 April 1946, Bi.Z. 21/9. 39. Memoir Maeda Chui, pp. 41-2. 40. Sjammaun Gaharu, in Modal Revolusi, p. 37. Talsya, in Sinar Darussalam, 10, p. 86. Memoir Maeda Chui, pp. 36-53, gives the impression that all the arms were surrendered, though the other sources mention only 600. 41. Interview M r T . M. Hasan. 42. Semangat Merdeka, 29 November 1945. 43. Hoesin loesoef, in Modal Revolusi, p. 44. Interviews. Piekaar, p. 249, cites reports of hundreds killed in this fighting. 44. Report by Mahmud on Japanese in Sumatra, 25 lune 1948, CMI Document 5590, ARA Archief Algemene Secretarie, 368. 45. Imamura to Flag Officer, Malaya & Forward Area, 16 December 1945, WO 203/2552. Atjeh-verslag tot 15 Januari 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. Propinsi Sumatera Utara, p. 51. Hoesin Joesoef in Modal Revolusi, p. 45. Interviews. 46. Teuku Mohammad Daud (1910-46) was educated in the European school in Sigli and was more westernized than most uleebalang. In 1931 he became uleebalang of Cumbok, the dominant statelet of the Lammeulo onderafdeling, on the death of his father. He was very stout, and 'a forceful and energetic personality, uncompromising and domineering' (Piekaar, p. 129). He was one of the wealthy ideebalang most active in opening coffee estates in the Tangse region in the 1930s. Through his strong and pro-Dutch influence Lammeulo had been the only district in Aceh to provide a viable landwacht of ethnic Acehnese in 1941-2. When the Dutch withdrew before the Japanese they had entrusted the whole onderafdeling to him, and he was able to retain that position under the Japanese. 47. Verslag van de Gebeurtenissen in Pidie, pp. 11-12, Bi.Z. 21/9. Abdullah Arif, 'The affair of the Tjoembok traitors', p. 44. 48. Verslag van de Gebeurtenissen, p. 2. 49. Ibid., pp. 5-6. Abdullah Arif, pp. 38-9. Semangat Merdeka, 10 November 1945. Revolusi Desember '45, pp. 18-19 (identical with Propinsi Sumatera Utara, pp. 65-6). 50. Revolusi Desember '45, p. 16 (Propinsi Sumatera Utara, p. 64), claims that at this meeting the uleebalang organized an anti-republican force, the Barisan Penjaga Keamanan (BPK). This however is in conflict with the evidence given by Djauh Ahmad, who attended the meeting and was the presumed source for anti-Cumbok accounts: Ismail Jakoeb's notes on interrogation of Djauh Ahmad, 16 January 1946 (for which I am indebted to Jim Siegel). A captured document reproduced in Abdullah Arif, p. 42, suggests there was a local Cumbok force already organized in November, but the BPK appears to have been formed monly in December (see p. 200).

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51. Interview. Semangat Merdeka, ironically printed on 14 January 1946, at the height of the Pidie fighting, a report from Radio Bandung that telegrams pledging support for the Republic had been received from the ideebalang of Aceh. 52. Abdullah Arif, p. 39. 53. Hasan Aly (b. 1916) was educated at the Sigli H.I.S. and was active in the late 1930s as a small trader, an agent in legal cases, and a youth leader. According to one Dutch report his father was murdered by an uleebalang. From 1937-40 he was a correspondent of various Medan papers, and wrote several articles critical of the uleebalang. In 1940 he was acquitted on a flimsy uleebalang charge of conspiring against the government, though his colleagues Peutua Husain and Djohan Ahmad were convicted and imprisoned. During the Japanese occupation he joined the judiciary, becoming Simpangkan (judge) in Kutaraja in 1944. In October 1945 he was appointed head of the Sigli branch of BPI (later PRI) and in this capacity was the principal co-ordinator of the ensuing struggle against the uleebalang. 54. Semangat Merdeka, 6 November 1945. 55. Semangat Merdeka, 20 November 1945. A telegram of support from Tgk Oemar Tiro to Sukarno had been much publicized two weeks earlier; Semangat Merdeka, 3 November 1945; Raliby, p. 79. 56. Traditional Muslim teaching about the jihad (holy war) is that it is not Fardlu 'ain, but only Fard'ala 7 kifaya, i.e. obligatory on the Muslim community as a whole but not necessarily on each individual. Shorter Encyclopedia of Islam, p. 89. 57. Semangat Merdeka, 27 November 1945. Atjeh-verslag to 15 January 1946, in Bi.Z. 21/1. 58. Ushiyama Mitsuo, Hokubu Sumatora Shusen Noki (Record of ending the war in northern Sumatra), pp. 38-55. No place or date of publication is given, though the writer notes that he originally recorded these memoirs as an Allied prisoner in August 1946. Ushiyama was an officer of the Sakatatai. 59. Knottenbelt report 9 November 1946, OPS 4, Sitrep 10 November 1945, WO 203/2511. Njak Arif's decree of 8 November forbidding unlicensed arms (above, p. 191) may have been a response to this situation. 60. Husein Sab was a younger brother of Hasan Sab (c. 1900-46), the F-kkian administrator of Lhokseumawe in 1942. They and a third brother, Sab Cut, of part Indian descent, grew up in a commercial environment in Gigieng, outside Sigli. All became traders and opponents of uleebalang rule. Husein Sab had a toko ubat (medicine shop) in Sigli before the war. He was active in PUSA and the F-kikan, and was appointed to head the hoin of Gigieng in the Aoki reforms of 1944. Husein was the principal Acehnese contact of Kondo Tsugio, the intelligence expert, while his brother Hasan was heavily involved in the recruitment and training of Giyugun for which he received a Japanese citation in November 1944. 61. Siegel interview with Husein Sab, May 1964, for which I am indebted to James Siegel. 62. Muramoto (in later life Nakata Eishu), as a political science graduate of Tokyo University, was much more highly qualified than most administrators in Indonesia. After a year as a correspondent in China (1939-40) he

ECLIPSE OF THE ULEEBALANG

215

had returned to join the strategic 'think-tank' established by Iwakuro, the founder of the Nakano-gakko. He was posted as a civil administrator to Bukittinggi in February 1943 and Aceh the following May, where he was asked by lino to develop the policy of working with the uleebalang. In 1944-5 however it became necessary for him to develop contacts also among the PUSA group, especially in troubled Pidie. Muramoto had a family in Aceh and spoke Indonesian well. 63. Interview Nakata Eishu, August 1973. Very similar words are used by Ushiyama, p. 59, who adds 'Muramoto perhaps went too far'. See also S. M . Amin, Atjeh Sepintas Lalu, p. 10, and Abdullah Arif, p. 40. 64. Ushiyama, pp. 57-8. Interviews Nakata Eishu and Ushiyama Mitsuo. 65. Interviews. Atjeh Sepintas Lalu, pp. 10-11. T h e PRI procession is described in Ushiyama, pp. 61-2. 66. These events were very confused, and no two accounts agree on the details. The above reconstruction is distilled from the accounts in Ushiyama, pp. 58-71; Propinsi Sumatera Utara, pp. 66-7; Abdullah Arif, pp. 4 0 - 1 ; Panglima Polim, pp. 16-20. Atjeh Sepintas Lalu, pp. 10-11; Verslag van de Gebeurtenissen in Pidie, 18 April 1946, pp. 7-8, Bi.Z. 21/9; my interviews with Nakata Eishu, Ushiyama Mitsuo, Hasan Aly, Sjammaun Gaharu, T . P . P . Mohd. Ali, and Osman Raliby; and Siegel's interviews with Husein Sab and Hasballah Daud. Japanese reports to the British in Medan gave an initial figure of forty dead in this fighting, and a later one of 500: Cables 10 and 12 December 1945 in W O 203/2512. 67. Propinsi Sumatera Utara, p. 68. 68. Abdullah Arif, p. 43. Interview. 69. Verslag van de Gebeurtenissen in Pidie, p. 9. Interview. 70. Abdullah Arif, pp. 44-5. 71. Ibid., pp. 41-2. T h e earliest reference in Semangat Merdeka, 17 January 1946, already described the Cap Bintang (led by the e x - K N I L soldier Putih) as the 'fighting unit'; the Cap Sauh as the 'plundering unit'; and the Cap Tombak as the 'unit to hunt for women and girls to be raped'. 72. Abdullah Arif, p. 46. Verslag van de Gebeurtenissen, p. 13. 73. Abdullah Arif, p. 47. Verslag van de Gebeurtenissen, pp. 13-14. Interview. 74. Siegel interviews with Hasballah Daud and Husein Sab. 75. Abdullah Arif, pp. 48-9. Interviews. Revolusi Desember '45, p . 25, less probably dates the burning of the Titeue religious school as 20 December. 76. Abdullah Arif, p. 50. 77. Abdullah Arif, pp. 52-3. Verslag van de Gebeurtenissen, pp. 19-20. Semangat Merdeka, 10 January 1946. Interviews. 78. Semangat Merdeka, 26 December 1945. 79. Abdullah Arif, p. 52. Verslag van de Gebeurtenissen, p. 18. Revolusi Desember '45, p. 27 (Propinsi Sumatera Utara, p. 70). Nazaruddin Sjamsuddin, pp. 141-3. Panglima Polim, p. 22. This decision does not appear to have been immediately publicized, since Semangat Merdeka of 11 January was still complaining about the Government's silence on the issue.

216

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

80. Semangat Merdeka, 14, 15, and 17 January 1946. Abdullah Arif, pp. 54-5. Revolusi Desember '45, pp. 26-31. Verslag van de Gebeurtenissen, pp. 19-22. Interviews. 81. Cited in Abdullah Arif, p. 51. 82. Nazaruddin Sjamsuddin, p. 175. Siegel interview with Husein Sab. 83. Interviews. Also Panglima Polim, p. 24. 84. An appendix to 'Verslag van de Gebeurtenissen', 18 April 1946, lists fortynine names of those known to have been killed in twelve statelets, two of them 'with all their male relatives'. T h e report adds (p. 22) that reliable sources put the total killed at at least two or three times this number. 85. 'Sekitar pembasmian pengchianat bangsa di Tjoembok', Soeloeh Merdeka, 1 February 1946. 86. Semangat Merdeka, 18 January 1946. 87. Ibid., 11 January 1946. 88. Ibid., 25 January 1946. 89. Teuku Chik Mohammad Daudsjah (c. 1905-c. 1964) was among the besteducated uleebalang, having studied at the Bestuursschool in Batavia. He married the daughter of a Sundanese Regent. In 1927 he was installed as uleebalang of Idi Rayeu, the home of Xarim M. S., Nathar Zainuddin, and Hoesain Almujahid. A skilful, cautious ruler, Daudsjah appears to have been able to avoid taking action against these pergerakan leaders. He was host to Pemuda PUSA in 1941-2, and to the Giyugun training centre in 1943-4, receiving a Japanese citation for his helpfulness to the Giyugun. He rose rapidly under the Japanese to be guncho of Idi (1942-4) and Langsa (1944-5), and represented Aceh at the Bukittinggi celebrations for Koiso's independence promise. In August 1945 he was named fukubunshucho of East Aceh, and was confirmed as Assistant-Resident in October. He continued to be a successful administrator throughout his working life. 90. Panglima Polim, pp. 28-9. 91. Rajendra Singh, Post-war Occupation Forces: Japan and Southeast pp. 256-7.

Asia,

92. Statement of Captain Adachi, 31 October 1946, RvO, I.C. 059301. Abdullah Hussain, Peristiwa, pp. 166-9. W I S 12, 8 January 1946, pp. 1 and 4, W O 172/9893. Hoesin Joesoef and Sjammaun Gaharu, in Modal Revolusi, pp. 45-6 and 39-40 respectively. Interviews. 93. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 February 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. 94. Ibid. Interviews. 95. Abdullah Hussain, Peristiwa, pp. 172-83. Soeloeh Merdeka, 27 February 1946. W I S 20, 2 March 1946, W O 172/9893. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 February 1946 and 16-31 February 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. Interviews. 96. Abdullah Hussain, Peristiwa, p. 183. 97. 'Insider', Atjeh Sepintas Lalu, p. 22. 98. Cited in Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 March 1946, p. 11, Bi.Z. 21/1.

ECLIPSE OF THE ULEEBALANG

217

99. Ibid., pp. 10-12. Atjeh Sepintas Lalu, pp. 20-22. Panglima Polim, pp. 27-30. Interviews. 100. Panglima Polim, pp. 31-2. Atjeh Sepintas Lalu, pp. 25-6. Interviews. 101. Nazaruddin Sjamsuddin, pp. 173-5. Atjeh Sepintas Lalu, pp. 37-8. Inter102. Soeyatno, 'Sejarah sosial masyarakat Sibreh Aceh Besar' (typescript P L P I S Banda Aceh, 1974), p. 15. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 16-30 April 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. Interviews. 103. Atjeh Sepintas Lalu, p. 23.

VIII 'SOCIAL REVOLUTION'

'A revolution is easy to begin. It is difficult however to find a leader at the right moment who can lead it in the right direction.' D R A. K.

THE COLLAPSE

OF TRADITIONAL

G A N I , MAY

19461

GOVERNMENT

T H E dichotomy between pemuda fighting bands and the conservative kerajaan of East Sumatra grew steadily more acute. The pemuda held physical power but were so disunited that any attempt to use it internally raised a spectre of anarchy. The kerajaan maintained the fiction of governing, but were steadily more isolated from its substance. The effective influence of the Malay and Simalungun rulers was now restricted to their own ethnic following in rural areas. The capacity of Mr Hasan and his Deputy Governor (since December), Dr Amir, to mediate between these two elements was never great. Both men frequently found themselves being dictated to by pemuda at the point of a gun. Dr Amir did not strengthen his position by accepting an Allied offer, while Mr Hasan was absent in Aceh in midDecember, to fly to Java together with Mr Luat Siregar and two West Sumatrans—Adinegoro and Dr Djamil. The British aim was to expose the Sumatran leaders to the 'moderate', pragmatic influence of Sjahrir and Amir Sjarifuddin. On their return on 3 January, however, Dr Amir aroused pemuda suspicions by declaring that 'the government of the Republic in Java considers Sumatra as being politically and economically independent of Java, and at liberty to take any action which does not run counter to the interests of the Republic'. 2 Some radical pemuda attempted to kidnap Amir as a result, and Mr Hasan was obliged to make an emphatic statement that the Sumatran government had 'no policy independent or different from the policy followed by the high government in Java'. 3 As a weapon to strengthen the government and bridge the dangerous gulf throughout the Republic between pemuda and officials, Sjahrir's Socialist government had decreed on 23 November a system of KNI

'SOCIAL REVOLUTION'

219

Daerah (regional Indonesian National Committees). K N I s had already arisen in many places on the basis of hokokai or shu sangi kai membership, but they were now to be reconstituted as representative bodies reflecting the new power balance and able to share government with the appointed officials. A new K N I for East Sumatra was formed in early December with Luat Siregar as its chairman. Similar bodies followed in each district and major town during January. The selection process for the Medan city K N I was a model of orderly, if indirect, election. The representation system agreed between Mr Mohd. Joesoef and a representative of the East Sumatran K N I was in terms of a roughly equal division of the fifty seats among three blocks. The first represented revolutionary and Marxist groups, including three each from the P K I , P N I , and PESINDO; the second, religious and social groups, including three from M I T and two from Sabilillah; and the third, sectors of the city and non-Indonesian minorities. 4 The two months required to implement this selection process is an indication that cruder methods must have been adopted elsewhere. The establishment of these revitalized KNIs immediately gave new strength and legitimacy to the more established and moderate political figures. It also raised the question whether it was the K N I or the kerajaan, or some combination of the two, which should be the focus of government outside the cities. As chairman of the East Sumatra K N I Luat Siregar was particularly determined that the rulers accept the democratic spirit of the times or else step aside. He and Dr Amir had both been impressed with the harmonious co-operation between the Republic and Yogyakarta royalty on their Java tour. Soon after their return, on 12 January, they arranged for Dr Amir's former employer, the Sultan of Langkat, to host a conference on the kerajaan question in Tanjung Pura. The fact that the two literary giants of East Sumatra, Tengku Amir Hamzah (wakil pemerintah NRI for Langkat) and Dr Amir, provided a bridge between the Langkat sultanate and the Republic, was probably the reason Langkat co-operated so fully in this enterprise. Serdang, the only sultanate whose loyalty the Dutch had doubted from the beginning, sent to the conference its crown prince and effective administrator, Tengku Anwar. Two datuks of Deli were present, but no-one from Asahan 'because of communication difficulties'. Dr Amir explained to the gathering how the Javanese rulers had become good Republicans and democrats, and Luat Siregar demanded that 'people's sovereignty, or democracy also be made effective as quickly as possible in the kerajaan of East Sumatra'. The meeting agreed that representative assemblies be established as soon as possible in each area, and that in the interim the sultans and their officials should 'govern in the closest possible co-

220

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

operation' with the local KNIs. 5 Both in the degree of kerajaan representation and the decisions taken this conference was a woefully limited step forward. No specific undertakings were reported, nor the establishment of any machinery to implement the 'co-operation'. In the sultans' eyes the Republic had little to offer them except words, and they responded in kind. The change in mood before the second conference less than a month later was a striking indication of the radicalization of the revolution. The effective truce at the end of December had left Medan physically dominated by the Allies and Republican police, and the fighting pasukan had gradually moved their headquarters outside the city. With the Japanese now concentrated in a few large encampments, there was no further opportunity to obtain arms from them. A new sphere of pemuda action was opening in the rubber, oil palm, and tobacco estates throughout the Residency. The Japanese estate managers had departed by December, leaving nominal control in the hands of their Indonesian clerks responsible to a Republican Dewan Perkebunan (Plantation Board) in Medan. The enormous stocks of rubber, sisal, and oil palm accumulated during the war were too valuable as an asset to remain unprotected, and effective control quickly fell into the hands of one pasukan or another. One of the first to turn the rubber stocks to account was Sjahrir's brother Mahruzar, acting on behalf of the T K R with the approval of Governor Hasan. In December 1945 he negotiated the sale of 6,000 tons of rubber in Singapore, and imported in exchange some weapons from Thailand and military drill from Singapore. The East Sumatran T K R , he claimed, obtained 'the best uniforms in Indonesia'. 6 The example was swiftly followed by others, not always using the correct Republican channels. Export was generally arranged through Tanjung Balai, where PESINDO seized control of the port from the 'official' kerajaan government of Tengku Musa in January. The Dutch estimated that 30,000 tons of rubber worth 10.7 million Straits dollars were 'smuggled' from Sumatra to Singapore in the period February-April 1946 alone. In the first ten months of 1946 a total of 129 million dollars worth of Sumatran goods arrived in Singapore, most of it produce and equipment from the estates of East Sumatra. Thanks to the profits of the Chinese who organized the dangerous traffic and the inexperience and corruption of the Indonesian sellers, the arms, cloth, and consumer goods which flowed back to Sumatra had less than a quarter the value. 7 Even so the trade was an enormous resource for thepasukan, politicians, and entrepreneurs engaged in it, whether used for the revolutionary struggle or for private purposes. Control of the estates, of internal and external trade, and of security

SOCIAL REVOLUTION

221

and defence matters were becoming too important to the T K R , PESINDO, BHL, and Sabilillah to be left to government—at least to conservative kerajaan government. The original Republican appointments made with an eye to wooing the kerajaan had less and less relevance to the real power situation. Only politicians with influence over the fighting pemuda could hope to retain a degree of Republican government control. Although Governor Hasan declined requests to replace his original appointees, local KNIs in many areas advanced their own men who in practice represented what there was of Republican authority. At the residency level Tengku Hafas had virtually ceased to act by the end of January. Decrees were signed in his name by Joenoes Nasution, chairman of the East Sumatran P K I . His title was first given as 'high official attached to the Resident', and later as 'Deputy Resident'. 8 In Langkat Tengku Amir Hamzah quietly withdrew from his Republican position during February, under heavy pressure from the Sultan and his pro-Dutch secretary Datuk Djamil on the one hand and. pemuda militants on the other. The prominent P N I and ex-GERiNDO politician Adnan Nur Lubis took over his government functions with the approval of the Langkat K N I . 9 The Serdang K N I appointed Tengku Nizam to represent the Republic there, while in Tebing Tinggi Moenar S. Hamidjoyo was reported at the end of January to be 'acting as wakil pemerintah N R I ' . Tengku Musa in Asahan stubbornly refused to bow before pemuda pressures, with the result that the chairman of the K N I there, Abdullah Eteng, became a rival authority exercising many governmental functions. 10 On 25 January, as the kerajaan were growing rapidly more isolated, the Sultan of Siak arrived in Medan. One of the most troublesome rulers for the Dutch colonial regime, Sultan Sjarif Kasim had also been more active than most in the Japanese period as chairman of the Riau equivalent of the hokokai. If he shared his fellow sultans' early hopes of succour from the returning Dutch he was too isolated in the Riau residency to see any evidence of it. Under considerable pemuda pressure himself he undertook the role of a model 'Republican sultan'. On 1 November he had publicly pledged his solidarity with the people in support of the Republic, donated 20,000 rupiahs for the struggle, and promised to sell all his belongings for the Republican cause if so required. 11 These dramatic gestures apparently did little to strengthen his weak position in Siak, for he did not return to the Riau residency after leaving it in January. However pathetic a figure in the eyes of his fellow rajas, Sultan Sjarif Kasim provided an excellent opportunity to demonstrate Governor Hasan's policy of 'assisting the kerajaan to modify their administration in accordance with the times'. 12 The Governor arranged an official

222

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

reception for the sultan in Medan, and the report of the event ended with the words: 'May this action by His Highness become a valuable model and a guide for the rajas of East Sumatra and other parts of this island.' 13 In the ensuing week Soeloeh Merdeka reporters followed the sultan to publicize his pro-Republican statements at a number of small meetings with moderate leaders. In Tanjung Pura he was apparently not received in the Langkat palace with which he had had bad relations ever since 1930, but he told members of the local K N I that 'the principle of popular sovereignty . . . truly increases the greatness of the sultanates, rather than reducing it as assumed in some quarters. During the colonialism of the Dutch and bondage of the Japanese the position of the sultans and rajas was like that of a nica [concubine] in a household, rather than of the lady of the house.' 14 The contempt with which the more revolutionary organizations viewed this Republican wooing of royalty must have spoken more powerfully to the rajas than did the words of the sultan. Berdjoeang commented of the royal visit: 'We want no return of feudalism. We want to know nothing of the government of His Highness. We want only the sovereignty of the people.' 15 The fate of the uleebalang of Pidie was by now well-known in East Sumatra. The rajas could no longer afford to ignore the threats to their own safety or to spurn whatever protection was available from the moderate leaders of the 'official' Republic. They therefore took very seriously a second meeting with Republican leaders on 3 February. All the five sultans of East Sumatra were present except the ailing Sultan of Serdang. So too were all but one of the seven Simalungun rajas, the Korte Verklaring rulers of Bilah and Panai, and most of the Karo sibayak. T h e Sultan of Siak was prominent even though his statelet was no longer part of the residency. The rajas had a prior closed meeting among themselves and again appointed the Sultan of Langkat as spokesman in the first session which was open to the press. His courteous reply to the Governor's speech for the first time made the support of the rajas for the Republic unequivocal: 16 We sultans and rajas have together decided to express once more our common determination to stand firmly behind the President and Government of the Republic, and to join in maintaining and strengthening our Republic. We are also fully aware that the structure of the daerah istimewa [special districts] must be in accordance with the basis of the Republic, that is the governmental system of popular sovereignty. The sultan ended his speech with the Republican slogan: merdeka. The meeting gave Mr Hasan his prime opportunity to woo the rajas into accepting a new democratic role. The Governor pointed out that the Republic fully recognized all existing statelets, and that 'there is as yet no

'SOCIAL REVOLUTION'

223

intention to eliminate or remove the kerajaan'. Dutch colonialism had in reality given the rajas no freedom, while it had distorted the original democratic spirit of Sumatran institutions into a peculiarly artificial form of autocracy in East Sumatra. The rajas were played off against the people, against the popular pergerakan, against the intellectuals, and the rajas were alienated from the people themselves. Is it surprising that the bonds linking the people to the rajas became slack ? In former independent times the rajas were popular chiefs, heads and leaders of the people. With the Dutch the rajas became tools of Dutch capitalism, agents of a foreign power. Now the time has come for the rajas to become once more leaders of their people. The reason the rajas were still wavering and over-anxious about their treaty relations with the Dutch, he suggested, was that they did not realize the full strength of the Republic's position. In case the assembled rulers did not sense the iron fist that lay beneath these mild words, Luat Siregar was there to remind them that they would have to reckon with the masses: . . . in reality a political, social and economic revolution is in progress. The government supports the revolution which is arising from the people, and this is only proper in terms of democratic beliefs. The government is simply a body which carries out the will of the people, and the government can only exist with the people's support. . . . Every old-fashioned attitude with a feudal smell must be done away with. Every structure and action which is not in accordance with the people's demands at this time must be changed. . . . The people at the moment are restless and expectant that democratic methods are practised as soon as possible in the daerah istimezva. The people want to see a People's Representative Body in those regions. The will of the people is like a flood that cannot be stopped.11 The role envisaged by Republican leaders for the rajas was as executive heads of their regions, subordinate to the higher authority of Resident and Governor on one hand, and to the legislative competence of representative councils within their statelets on the other. Luat Siregar in particular insisted on a division of legislative, judicial, and executive powers, with only the last in the hands of the rajas. This was a long way from the negotiating position taken up by the rajas, who sought a position comparable to the Javanese principalities—outside the administrative hierarchy of Governor and Resident and tied to the Republic only through a special High Commissioner from the President to the East Sumatran kerajaan. This would leave them free to arrange their own style of democratization internally. Hasan countered the anal-

224

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

ogy with Java by claiming that 'the High Commissioner for the daerah istimewa was established there as a mark of appreciation for the services (jasa) of the rulers there. In Sumatra the question of a High Commissioner can also be considered when there is evidence of co-operation between the Republic and the rulers.' 18 Despite the distance in their negotiating positions, both sides appear to have considered the meeting a success. M r Hasan and Dr Amir left after drinks for a meeting with the British commander General Chambers, authorizing Tengku Hafas to finalize details of proposed reforms with the rulers. A kerajaan commission was set up to implement the introduction of representative councils, and to co-ordinate discussions in each statelet between the ruler and the K N I . The exclusively kerajaan composition of this commission, however, suggests the rulers still failed to realize the seriousness of their position. The anxiety of some of them not to destroy the contractual basis of their claims on Dutch protection reduced them to a cautious legalism of approach which could never meet the pemuda. If the commission produced concrete results in the month available to it, these were never announced. 19 The 3 February Conference brought the question of democratizing the kerajaan to the forefront of pemuda consciousness. Almost every speaker mentioned it during the rallies held to mark six months of independence on 17 February. T h e PESINDO theoretician Joesoef Abdullah, for example, pointedly asked what would happen to 'our pressure for democratization of the rajas, for exchanging daulat rakyat for the old daulat tuanku' under the Dutch scheme to retain various powers with a Dutch Governor-General, presumably including treaty relations. 20 In practice, however, the rulers had already lost all administrative authority. 'Not only were people no longer willing to come to the rulers' offices because of the drastic change in the atmosphere, but often the rulers' officials themselves did not show up any more.' 2 1 Effective authority was wielded by the pemuda pasukan, in whose eyes any Republican compromise with the kerajaan could only mean giving a new and artificial lease of life to the latter. The most important practical consequence of the 3 February conference may have been to increase the revolutionaries' sense of urgency to sweep the anachronistic monarchies aside before it became more difficult to do so. Three days after the Conference, Mr Hasan left Medan for a monthlong tour of Sumatra, already conscious of mounting pressures for a coup against the rajas. 22 In the large official party was Xarim M. S., the most influential mediator between the Republican leadership and the pemuda. Dr Amir, again appointed acting Governor of Sumatra, could not begin to match the authority of these men. A brilliant psychiatrist with a thoroughly western life-style, Amir stood outside the

225

'SOCIAL REVOLUTION'

main currents of Indonesian life. Hasan had a degree of protection against pemuda demands in his Acehnese bodyguard and the possibility that Acehnese as a whole would rally to his defence in a crisis. Amir had no personal following at all. Though not without personal courage he had little ability to manipulate pemuda leaders by appealing to their own values. Ever since the traumatic Japanese period Amir appears to have reacted to the psychological pressure by acting a series of parts in a consciously jocular fashion. He enjoyed referring to the Governor as Mangkubumi or 'Your Excellency', and likening Tengku Musa to Richelieu, Sarwono to Robespierre. 23 Since none of the parts he played were himself, Amir was always in danger of overacting and confusing fantasy with reality. With each swing of the political pendulum he was a little more out of balance, until the pendulum threw him off altogether. Amir appears to have found it particularly hard to deal with Joenoes Nasution, effectively Resident of East Sumatra for most of his Acting Governorship. Amir greatly exaggerated Joenoes's power as 'father of the extremists' and appeared to believe it was essential to retain his support. Although he later identified Joenoes as his principal enemy and the villain of the piece, Joenoes' brief authority was largely of his own making. 24

PERSATUAN

PERJUANGAN

AND

POLARIZATION

The launching by Tan Malaka of the Persatuan Perjuangan (struggle union) had a similar effect in Sumatra as in Java of providing unity and legitimacy to widespread pemuda demands for more revolutionary change. Muhammad Yamin's December articles extolling Tan Malaka as 'Father of the Indonesian Republic' were reproduced in Soeloeh Merdeka in mid-January, 25 about the same time as the ideals and slogans of the Persatuan Perjuangan were becoming known in Medan. 'Tan Malaka's idea was immediately well-received in Medan.' 2 6 For one thing Tan Malaka was better known than most government leaders, partly as a result of his two-year period in East Sumatra. P K I stalwarts Xarim M. S., Nathar Zainuddin, and Joenoes Nasution were close to him both personally and ideologically, and shared his view that the communist cause must not stand in the way of the broadest possible revolutionary front. This was undoubtedly the reason that they sternly forbade the use of the hammer and sickle emblem in place of the merahputih.'2'1 When Xarim heard of Tan Malaka's arrest by the Republican government in March, he reportedly commented that he ought to retaliate by arresting the Republican government in Sumatra. 28 Tan Malaka's arrest was initially widely disbelieved in Medan, and Dr Amir issued a special warning that the report 'may be an enemy provocation

226

THE BLOOD OF T H E P E O P L E

to disturb the people. The NRI Government does not forbid the existence of a communist party, and continues to respect the efforts and the value of Tan Malaka.' 29 Moreover the Persatuan Perjuangan's Minimum Programme appealed very well to the pemuda mood. The brilliantly simple slogan of negotiations only on the basis of '100% Merdeka' was taken up by one meeting and organization after another during February. The demand for a people's army and a people's government, and for the confiscation of Dutch plantations and other property, gave clarity and legitimacy to the direction the revolution was already taking in East Sumatra. There was in addition a special need in East Sumatra for bodies to fill the vacuum created by the collapse of traditional government. The Markas Agung had filled this role temporarily and partially in late 1945, at least in co-ordinating street-fighting in Medan. The KNIs had given moderate elements a chance to provide cohesion in early 1946. The Persatuan Perjuangan was somewhere between the two—a federation of fighting bodies on a broader basis than the Markas Agung, representing a more powerful radical alternative to the KNIs. It comes as no surprise that the P K I and PESINDO, which in Java supported Sjahrir's government and therefore became opponents of the Persatuan Perjuangan, were the principal promoters of the new movement in Sumatra. It was precisely the sort of front which Xarim, Nathar, and Luat had been consistently striving to create. The Persatuan Perjuangan in Sumatra, however, never saw itself as an 'anti-government' movement except in relation to the kerajaan, because the Republican government had no capacity to oppose it as in Java. Negotiations to form a Sumatran Persatuan Perjuangan were begun by Xarim and Luat Siregar in late January, but bore fruit only on 11 February after the Governor's party had left. About twenty organizations reportedly attended the foundation meeting chaired by Luat Siregar, which produced both an all-Sumatra executive headed by Sarwono S. Soetardjo and a less significant East Sumatran body under Riphat Senikentara. Because it excluded conservative officials and moderate intellectuals this proved an effective revolutionary weapon. Both the central executive and the branches which quickly sprang up in each district were dominated by PESINDO, P K I , and P N I , with the T K R and M I T generally playing a subordinate part. In Langkat Usman Parinduri (PKI and ex-Kenkokutai) was the leader, in Karoland Tama Ginting (PNI), in Asahan Haris Fadhilah (PESINDO and ex-Kenkokutai).30 Because it was the leadership of the Sumatran Persatuan Perjuangan which co-ordinated the eventual action against the rajas of East Sumatra, it is important to know its composition, which appears never to have

'SOCIAL REVOLUTION'

227

been published. Leadership was theoretically vested in a Pucuk Pimpinan (Central Board) with representatives from all major armed groups. This appears to have met no more than once during February, however, and it was in practice a small group of key members who took the vital decisions. It was probably because this group was very similar to the radical caucus comprising Nathar Zainuddin's Markas Agung that many sources attribute the March decision for action to the Markas Agung.31 The central people involved were undoubtedly Sarwono S. Soetardjo (PESINDO) as chairman, Saleh Oemar (PNI), and a PKI representative. The T R I representative, Ahmad Tahir, was less frequently consulted, while Bachtiar Joenoes of MIT/Sabilillah was fortuitously absent in the Governor's party. The progress of the radical forces was also evident in the economic field, where rival schemes contended to bring a degree of order and government control. A communist group inspired by Joenoes Nasution had formed BAPPER (Badan Pusat Perekonomian Rakyat Sumatera— Sumatran People's Central Economic Body) on 11 December. It shared with many other such bodies the aim of directing economic activity towards the purposes of the anti-Dutch struggle, though it had a larger dose than most of vaguely Marxist rhetoric. Little was heard of BAPPER until 5 February when it changed its name to ERRI (Ekonomi Rakyat Republik Indonesia). Its working leadership, Amir Joesoef and Bustami, 32 came to Governor Hasan on the eve of his Sumatran tour to ask that ERRI be authorized to act as the economic arm of the government, taking responsibility for all plantations and enterprises in Sumatra. Sensing that whatever power the organization had was unlikely to serve the interests of the Government, Hasan refused the request. Nevertheless ERRI became very active, organizing hawkers, cloth-merchants, medicine-sellers, and the like into a series of associations with a co-operative basis. Luat Siregar's announcement on 12 February that the KNIs no longer had an economic branch was undoubtedly connected with a shift of left-wing support to ERRI. 33 Although armed clashes with the British, Dutch, and Japanese remained at a low level during February, there was a rapid rise in revolutionary temperature. At the 17 February commemoration of six months' independence pemuda spokesmen rose to new heights of enthusiasm. They were engaged not only in a struggle for 100 per cent independence but a revolution with its own urgent logic. 'History has never experienced a revolution as intense as this Indonesian revolution.' 34 Luat Siregar took up the words of Sukarno that both a national and a social revolution were taking place. 'What is most important now, particularly for government leaders, is that they reconcile their position and their attitude with this social revolution. For we can sometimes see in government circles

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that independence has only the character of "changing the guard", with Dutch big-shots replaced by Japanese, and Japanese by Indonesian.' 35 More specific criticism was soon forthcoming from Berdjoeang, complaining that the Medan mayor Mr Joesoef was far too co-operative with the British. 36 As rallies called by the Persatuan Perjuangan grew ever larger and more enthusiastic, 37 the Republican officials began to be seen as an obstacle to the ongoing revolution. The absence of any party explicitly committed to the Republican government and its desire for stability has already been noted. Sjahrir's government desperately wanted to demonstrate to the Allies that it presided over an orderly functioning government whose will was obeyed. Its tenuous position in Sumatra was used by the Dutch as an argument for denying de facto Republican authority over that island. Yet the Marxist parties which formed the kernel of government support in Java were in Sumatra either unrepresented or more sympathetic to Tan Malaka's radical line than Sjahrir's moderate one. Not until early February did the main government support in Java, the Socialist Party, send a propagandist to northern Sumatra. It was Sjahrir's elder brother Noer Alamsjah, a pre-war leader of PARINDRA in northern Sumatra, who represented the most moderate wing of the party. He made no attempt, as one of Amir Sjarifuddin's pro-Moscow colleagues might have done, to convince the P K I that international conditions demanded the firmest support for the Sjahrir/Amir government. Instead Noer Alamsjah appears to have concentrated his attention on the moderate nationalist intellectuals who were alarmed by the uncontrolled mass movement and sought a return to elite political management. By mid-February his activity had produced two rival committees for what was still called PARSI (Partai Sosialis Indonesia—the title of Amir's party before it fused with Sjahrir's). One was composed entirely of moderate intellectuals, and the other was based on elements of Sjahrir's pre-war FNI-baru which were not happy with the P N I . Although the leadership of PARSI remained confused during the following month, it was quickly apparent that it had only two real sources of strength. One was its closeness to Republican officials and to the central government; the other was the Pasukan V of Dr F. J. Nainggolan, one of the first to declare for the Socialists. 38 Although little had been heard of Pasukan V in the Republican Press, it had reacted to the radicalization of the other pasukan by strengthening its alliance with the Malay youth groups sworn to defend the kerajaan. Although most of its claimed 50,000 members (10,000 in East Sumatra) were Toba, it now had a strongly armed Malay branch in Sunggal as well as some supporters in Karoland, both representing the establishment forces which had been under attack by the aron and its Kenkokutai

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successors. Pasukan V had again clashed with PESINDO in February, and its leaders had been taken captive to a PESINDO meeting to be accused of aiding NICA and the Republican police. Pasukan V held a conference at Kisaran on 23 February to make absolute its break with 39 PESINDO and its fusion with the Socialists. The new socialist party must have contributed to the impression among revolutionaries that Republican officials, the kerajaan, and possibly the Dutch were attempting some form of conservative reaction. In other areas too the battle lines were being drawn. The Republican representative in Karoland, Ngeradjai Meliala, used a T K R unit loyal to him to arrest Pajungbangun and other Harimau Liar leaders, on the ground that they were responsible for many murders. Harimau Liar and other P N I units were looking for revenge against him. In Asahan relations grew more tense between the official wakil pemerintah, Tengku Musa, and the pasukan predominately led by TALAPETA graduates. T h e police and the small T K R unit under a local Malay, Lt. Karim Saleh, had attempted to maintain the authority of Tengku Musa, with the result that they became bitterly isolated from the remainder of the pemuda movement. 40 With pressure mounting for action against the rajas, Dr Amir was persuaded to take a special train on 27 February to tour the most serious trouble spots—Pematang Siantar,t he headquarters of the Persatuan Perjuangan, and Asahan. Dr Amir may have seen this as an attempt to calm pemuda passions and negotiate an orderly change. For the P K I and PESINDO representatives who shared the platform with Amir and Joenoes Nasution at every stop, however, it was an opportunity to demonstrate the strength of the people's will. On the outward journey the train was met by thousands in Tebing Tinggi and in Kisaran, and speakers demanded that 'the enemies and obstacles to independence' be crushed. I n Tanjung Balai the Sultan of Asahan entertained the visiting party cordially. The following day he appealed to a rally for co-operation in the cause of independence. But the crowd of 20,000 demanded action. At a private meeting of Persatuan Perjuangan leaders the evidence was presented of royal links with the Dutch. At Pematang Siantar on the return journey, walls were daubed with slogans like 'the rajas suck the people's blood' and 'the people will judge'. The pemuda slogans merdeka (freedom) and darah (blood), shouted with clenched fist on high, mingled with cries for the blood of the rajas.41 T h e official train returned to Medan on 2 March, with D r Amir apparently believing he had persuaded the party leaders to postpone action against the rajas at least until Governor Hasan returned to Medan. T h e following day, however, the signal was given to begin the 'social revolution'.

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'A NIGHT OF BLOOD' The planning of the coup was, as we have seen, the work of a radical caucus within the Persatuan Perjuangan embracing the leadership of 42 PESINDO, PNI, and PKI. Of their three motives for eliminating the rajas, the 'social revolution' of the Marxist intellectuals was in practice the least important. Most of the leaders had no plans for a more democratic or socialist government structure. The reason most commonly advanced for the move was the sympathy the rajas had for the Dutch and the danger they represented to independence. At Persatuan Perjuangan meetings in Brastagi, Pematang Siantar, and Tanjung Balai, the case against the rulers had been presented in terms of their contacts with Dutch representatives, the Comite van Ontvangst, the armed guards formed in several statelets, and the Dutch propaganda material allegedly stored in the palaces. A third motive of party and pasukan leaders was to gain control of the legendary wealth of the rajas. Both the Persatuan Perjuangan Minimum Programme and the Bukittinggi MIT meeting, it was argued, had provided the theoretical justification for using the property of enemies and traitors to sustain the national struggle. The essence of the action launched on 3 March was firstly to seize the rajas and their principal supporters, and secondly to ransack their palaces for the treasure and the pro-Dutch propaganda expected to be found there. 43 The revolution had already provided many precedents for asserting the people's sovereignty in this way. Wherever the radical core of the Persatuan Perjuangan had no serious competitors the rajas were dealt with on the night of 3 March. Karoland witnessed a model operation. Sarwono telephoned instructions to the Persatuan Perjuangan leader there, Tama Ginting, who immediately obtained the support of the leader with the strongest armed force, Selamat Ginting. They hastily convened a Persatuan Perjuangan 'meeting' in Brastagi on 3 March and ensured that the sibayak and raja urung attended. The majority of them, seventeen in all, were arrested and interned in Central Aceh. Also arrested were the wakil pemerintah NRI and the brothers Nerus and Nolong Ginting Suka who had been his political strongmen. The aristocrats lost much of the irrigated land which had been a source of conflict since the 1930s, but their houses and families were undisturbed. No bloodshed took place.44 The factors which made this orderly operation possible in Karoland were not repeated elsewhere. The Karo 'aristocracy' had been nearer to a Dutch-created bureaucracy, not far removed socially or economically from their fellow Karo. The pemuda leaders were all ethnic Karo with family links with sibayak and raja urung. Finally, the most bitterly alienated element, Inoue's proteges of the BHL, had been imprisoned

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by Meliala. Karoland was to experience its time of blood only in 1947, after Pajungbangun and his colleagues had been released. 45 Most of the important pasukan in Simalungun were Toba Batak in composition and based in the city of Pematang Siantar or the estates. The official army, the T K R (renamed T R I since January), had also recently shifted its headquarters to Siantar where it was relatively strong. Colonel Tahir had agreed by telephone to the imprisoning of the rajas by the Persatuan Perjuangan. 46 The only radical force of predominantly Simalungun composition was the Harimau Liar under Saragih Ras, which had inherited its rural base from the Kenkokutai. When Saleh Oemar gave instructions for the arrest of rajas to PESINDO, NAPINDO (BHL) and P K I leaders in Siantar, therefore, it was agreed that the key role should be taken by BHL to avoid ethnic recriminations, particularly in traditional upper Simalungun. Paradoxically this worked to the rajas' disadvantage. In upper Simalungun there was no coherent pergerakan opposition to traditional rule, and the Harimau Liar represented a few leaders with personal grudges and a handful of uneducated followers. The Raja of Pane, against whom Saragih Ras had such a grievance, was seized by B H L on the night of 3 March with all his family, and their treasure and a collection of cloth was taken from his house. T h e Raja and a few followers were taken to a BHL celebration feast at one of their nearby strongholds and killed. T h e following day the Harimau Liar tracked down the ruler of neighbouring Raya, who was taken to a bridge on the main road and killed. His house too was plundered for gold and other treasure. A third ruler of upper Simalungun, the Raja of Purba, was fortunate to be forcibly taken out of B H L hands by a T R I unit. A fourth, Silimakota, was absent in Siantar when his palace was attacked and burned. Along with the other rajas of Simalungun these two eventually reached the relative security of detention at army hands in Siantar, though many of their kinsmen did not. 47 In the sprawling Asahan afdeling in the south of the residency the violence begun on 3 March was at its worst. There was no effective moderate force between the armed pemuda on one side, and on the other a stubborn group of kerajaan administrators led by Tengku Musa who still represented the 'official' Republic. T h e only T K R / T R I unit in the whole afdeling was the small one in Tanjung Balai which tended to support the kerajaan. T h e leaders of the most powerful fighting groups—PESINDO, NAPINDO, and Sabilillah—were all inexperienced politicians whose basic training had been at Inoue's TALAPETA. Even Abdullah Eteng, leader of the Kenkokutai in Asahan and later of the K N I , was under effective house arrest by pemuda during the 'social revolution'.

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On 3 March thousands of armed men assembled in Tanjung Balai in response to rumours that the Dutch were about to attempt a landing. They were directed to surround the palace. There was a confused skirmish in which the T R I and police appear to have attempted to protect the palace. T h e T R I was obliged to surrender and the palace was invaded, but the athletic young sultan had already fled. After a dramatic chase in which he hid in mangrove swamps and three times swam across the river, he eventually reached the safety of the residual Japanese post seventeen days later. T h e pemuda meanwhile had sought other targets. Tengku Musa was first on the list. He was seized with his Dutch wife and all his household on the night of 3 March. All were quickly killed. T h e following day all the male Malay aristocrats in the town were seized and similarly killed. About 140 appear to have died in the town within a few days, including some penghulu and Dutch-educated officials as well as the whole 'Tengku' class. T h e wives and children of most of the dead were interned, and their houses plundered for treasure by the pemuda pasukan. The palace became the 'hall of the people' (gedung rakyat), a luxurious headquarters for PESINDO. 48

In the five statelets of the Labuhan Batu onderafdeling, further south, the action was even more severe. According to a later Persatuan Perjuangan report the reason was that in this area there had been 'no limit to the oppression of the people and the pergerakan' by the rajas. 49 T h e first wave of 3 March only affected the district capital of Rantau Prapat and the seat of the Sultan of Kualuh. At Rantau Prapat the wakil pemerintah NRI, Tengku Hasnan, and three of his assistants were seized in the night and taken to the river for execution. Hasnan and Tengku Long were beheaded, but the other two managed to jump in the river and escape. At the same time the palace of Kualuh in Tanjung Pasir was surrounded and the male inhabitants seized. T h e aged and unbending Sultan and one of his sons were found in a Chinese graveyard the next day, dying of multiple spear-wounds. Some pemuda took them off to 'hospital' but they were never seen again. T h e other key people in the kerajaan government were similarly killed and their families interned. 50 The Persatuan Perjuangan faced tougher opposition in the big sultanates of Deli, Serdang, and Langkat. T h e most effectively protected sultan was Serdang, not only by his relatively anti-Dutch record but also by a T R I unit in Perbaungan under Captain Tengku Noerdin. Noerdin was a young Serdang aristocrat trained in the Giyugun, and a nephew of the K N I chairman in Serdang, Tengku Nizam. H e obtained approval from Colonel Tahir to take power into his own hands. On 4 March a transfer of authority was swiftly negotiated and the kerajaan officials and aristocrats were comfortably interned in the palace. 51

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The palace of the Sultan of Deli was only a stone's throw from the Allied 'Medan fortress' and came under British protection as soon as the 'social revolution' began. Elsewhere in Deli the poorly-armed Malay youths of PADI were prepared to defend their datuks in alliance with the better-armed Pasukan V. T h e palace of Langkat was defended by a royal guard called P.I.L. (Penjaga Istana Langkat) which had been provided with about forty firearms by the Allies in January. This unit too was stiffened by its alliance with the Pasukan V. The first task of the revolutionaries was to defeat or eliminate these military forces. The heaviest fighting took place in Sunggal (Serbanyanam), where the bitter polarization of 1942 had never been overcome and the Datuk was well armed, PESINDO attacked the Pasukan V headquarters on the night of 3 March but was beaten off with eight reported killed. Most of the aristocrats in the area fled to the Sultan's Maimun palace in Medan on the 4th, PESINDO succeeding in capturing and killing only Datuk Abbas. The armed Malay unit in Sunggal continued to resist until the 6th, when the defeat of Pasukan V and PADI on every front made their position hopeless. Its leader, Datuk Itam, transferred authority to the political leaders, surrendered his arms and fled to Medan. The British reported twenty deaths in the Sunggal fighting. There were more two days later when five Malays returned to Sunggal to die honourably in a vengeful amok of their enemies. 52 In Labuhan Deli also there were minor scuffles ending with the arrest of about forty Malays—leaders of PADI and penghulu. The Pasukan V was defeated everywhere. Its leader, Dr Nainggolan, was seized and trussed in a gunny-sack to be killed. Although rescued at the eleventh hour he was permanently embittered by the subsequent killing of his wife and daughter. 53 The Langkat palace in Tanjung Pura was too strong for the pemuda to attack in the first onslaught. As pressure mounted around him the Sultan reportedly declined to give a prearranged signal for rescue by the Allied or Japanese troops nearby. Knowing the dangers for the whole aristocratic-Malay cause if he took such a drastic step, he preferred to trust the assurances of Mr Hasan and Dr Amir, his former personal physician. Meanwhile in Binjai PESINDO began to seize Malay kerajaan officials and Dutch-educated Bataks of the Pasukan V from 4 March. Among the first to be taken from his house was Tengku Amir Hamzah, officially still the wakil pemerintah NRI.5i

REVOLUTION

OR

PUTSCH

T h e violence of 3 March destroyed what remained of Republican government in East Sumatra. Officials who had escaped arrest barricaded

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themselves in their houses. This was the moment for revolutionaries to act. But as one Persatuan Perjuangan leader admitted, its leaders 'did not think much beyond abolishing the rajas'. 55 The P K I leaders in the government, Luat Siregar and Joenoes Nasution, were now in the key position, with Dr Amir as an ideal legitimation for whatever change they could bring about. They now had the role of moderates, however, to a large extent sharing the view of Amir and the British that 'the merits or demerits of the revolution . . . will depend on the speed and efficiency with which a new civil administration to replace one of long standing can be organized'. Their policy was to complete the elimination of rajas and replace them as speedily as possible with officials 'based on the principle of popular sovereignty'. 56 As acting Governor Dr Amir showed enormous energy and no little courage, presiding over one meeting after another and issuing a stream of communiques. He had found a new role to play—the ardent revolutionary. He convinced the British that he was a convert to communism, and tried to preach to PESINDO in the language of revolution—'In the name of God, feudalism is being, has been, and must be abolished now.' 57 But he had no defence against those who commanded men and guns. Amir's first official move was to put himself and the government firmly behind what he definitively called the 'social revolution'. The people throughout East Sumatra have suddenly acted to maintain justice and fight tyranny in their respective districts. This movement has the form of a tremendous social revolution. I accept the people's action to purge all enemies of the Republic within the state with a feeling of gratitude to God (syukur), provided every action is taken with consideration for the gains and costs . . . so that the victims of the social revolution are as few as possible. . . . In this critical situation extraordinary measures are required, to change the structure of government and the style of government in a radical way, in accordance with the will of the people (popular sovereignty).58 The language was close to that of Luat Siregar, in association with whom the proclamation was issued. It went on to name Joenoes Nasution as responsible for the government of East Sumatra, and Luat himself as 'pacifier' with plenary powers. Local K N I s were urged to cooperate with Luat as he toured each district in East Sumatra. The position of the T R I was confused. Amir's proclamation merely called for co-ordination between the new government, the Persatuan Perjuangan, the K N I , T R I , and police. In the same issue of the Soeloeh Merdeka was an announcement by Colonel Ahmad Tahir that the T R I had taken over all government in East Sumatra from midday on the

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5th, with the exception (in deference to the Allies) of Medan city. 59 Tahir and some of his key advisers were anxious to prevent what they saw as a descent into anarchy, but they held the upper hand only in Pematang Siantar and Serdang. While Luat Siregar set off on his tour of the southern districts, Dr Amir and Joenoes Nasution presided over a series of tense meetings near Medan. On 6 March Dr Amir attempted to calm the PESINDO— Pasukan V hostility by confirming that the latter was dissolved into the Socialist Party while PESINDO nominally accepted an advisory council of the same moderate intellectuals who made up that party. The following day a turbulent meeting in Medan attempted to resolve the kerajaan issue. While the K N I , expanded by representatives of all the parties and pemuda groups, tried to discuss the issue, thousands crowded outside the building and the shouting 'came like thunder' to abolish the kerajaan. After a few minutes Joenoes Nasution appeared to tell the crowd that the sultanate was duly abolished and power transferred to the working committee of the K N I of Deli. Several kerajaan figures were seized as they left the meeting, including the sultan's former secretary Mr Tengku Mahadi. On 11 March there was another attempt to give the revolution a more constitutional face, at a meeting in which the Datuk of Serbanyaman (Sunggal), having already surrendered authority in his own urung, now surrendered the whole of the Deli sultanate into the hands of the KNI. 6 0 Sultan Osman himself, protected by British guns, made no concessions. In Langkat the disunity of pemuda barisan stood in the way of a swift restoration of authority. Joenoes Nasution attended a meeting in Binjai on 5 March which was disrupted by mass demonstrations in the same way as at Medan. The kerajaan was declared abolished at 5 p.m., though without any clear authority in its place. Later that same evening a meeting of the K N I of Tanjung Pura decided to arrange an orderly transfer of authority from the kerajaan, which took place the following day. Tengku Saidi Husny, a pre-war police official, was confirmed as wakil pemerintah NRI there. 61 The revolution was not to be cheated, however, and these steps in Langkat proved to be the beginning rather than the end. Joenoes Nasution had a simpler task in Karoland, where he attended a ceremony to abolish the kerajaan on 8 March. The principal pemuda leaders had decided to put forward Rakuta Sembiring as the new Republican authority. T h e local T R I commander, Major Kasim Nasution, for a time claimed himself to be the head of government in the area on the strength of Tahir's decree, but he lacked the power to upset the decision for Sembiring. 62 Meanwhile Luat's tour as 'pacifier' had taken him first to Pematang Siantar on 5 March, accompanied by Sarwono and Saleh Oemar. He

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explained to a crowded meeting that the government had terminated the authority of the rajas earlier that day, because of their proven contacts with the Dutch. An 'extremely democratic' election was organized for a new head of government in Simalungun, with each of thirty-three organizations represented having one vote. In the final ballot the PKI's Urbanus Pardede prevailed by one vote over the incumbent aristocratic administrator, Madja Poerba, who was therefore declared Urbanus's assistant. 63 T h e following day Luat's party reached Tanjung Balai, where they arranged for Abdullah Eteng to be brought from his virtual house arrest to a meeting which declared him new government representative. The Batubara region just west of Tanjung Balai had not been affected by the 'social revolution', and Luat's party supervised the arrest of the five rajas there 'gently and quickly' on the night of 7 March. Oemar Pane of PESINDO was elected head of the region. The rajas and their families were taken captive to Siantar, and their houses were plundered. 64 Finally Luat Siregar and Sarwono travelled to Rantau Prapat, capital of the most remote Labuhan Batu region. At a mass meeting in the cinema they explained that the 'social revolution' had the support of government and should be completed. Sarwono reportedly inspired the pemuda to 'arrest all those who are suspected and all those who are an obstacle to independence'. 65 The Medan leaders did not stay to see the result of their intervention. Pasukan were quickly organized to attack each of the palaces which had not yet been affected. The rulers of Bilah and Kota Pinang were seized on 8-9 March, and killed a few days later at Wingfoot estate with five of their male relatives. A rich booty was seized at Kota Pinang. Not until 13 March did the revolution reach Labuhan Bilik, the capital of Panai, when three leading tengkus were killed including the kerajaan administrator, Tengku Hamlet. 66 Although Luat's party appeared to have left Rantau Prapat with the impression that a certain Abdul Rachman had become Republican representative, when a Persatuan Perjuangan party revisited the district three weeks later 'there were no government officials to be met and the situation of the parties and the volksfront [P.P.] had to be improved'. 67 In this southernmost corner of the residency, persistently neglected by the Republican government, the breakdown of authority was virtually complete. For a week following 3 March revolutionary enthusiasm was at its height and few dared stand in its way. Even the Islamic movement was quick to align itself with the current, giving more prominence within its ranks to the younger anti-kerajaan activists of Muhammadiah. Tengku Jafizham was seized by Islamic pemuda at the Medan railway station on 4 March, as he was returning from an M I T rally in Langkat.

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The major obstacle to a more radical course within M I T , he was dismissed from its executive on 6 March. The following day the local M I T declared itself the North Sumatra branch of the Java-centred MASJUMI. H. A. R. Sjihab (Wasliyah), Yunan Nasution (Muhammadiah), and Bachtiar Joenoes (Muhammadiah and Sabilillah) became first, second, and third chairmen. 68 Friday 8 March was designated a day when the weekly chutbah (sermon) should be devoted to explaining the 'social revolution'. In the great mosque of Medan, adjacent to the Sultan's palace, Yunan Nasution explained how the rajas had kept Islam backward and conservative. In the Binjai mosque another Muhammadiah ulama went to the pulpit with a drawn sword, 'as was done by the prophet Muhammad'. 6 9 The following day Dr Amir authorized the new MASJUMI leadership to take over the administration of religion in East Sumatra and to replace the kadhi of the kerajaan. Sjihab immediately sought a mandate for this religious revolution from a gathering of eleven prominent local ulama. Not all of them could accept the explicitly reformist manifesto with which MASJUMI itself sought to welcome the 'social revolution', as a source of 'new ideas and progress in the Islamic religion' and an opportunity to extend 'the spirit of Islamic reformism'. T h e ulama simply accepted that President Sukarno was the legitimate head of state in whom the shaukah of religious authority was vested. Since he had now delegated this authority at the local level to MASJUMI, Sjihab could proceed to dismiss the old kadhi and appoint new ones. 70 New, reformist kadhi were appointed on 18 March, with authority to appoint their own local naib kadhi. Immediately MASJUMI had to answer the charge that these appointments violated the principle of popular sovereignty. Why had the people not elected their own kadhi} I n religious matters, MASJUMI explained, God was sovereign, not the people. 71 .....:: Of the attempts to give a permanent revolutionary direction to the Republic during this fluid and chaotic period, the most ambitious was ERRI. When its leaders came to Dr Amir on 6 March with the demand which Hasan had refused, they received all the official recognition they wanted, ERRI was given 'full authority to organize the structure of the economy in every sector for the whole of Sumatra'. 7 2 Here was a mandate to extend its activities to a total control of the Sumatran economy. With remarkable energy it appointed 'inspectors' for every sector and set about assuming all the revenue functions of government. All estate production was to be surrendered to ERRI, and all foreign trade handled by it. Its agents effectively blockaded the Allied-occupied sector of Medan, seizing all foodstuffs entering the city and appropriating stocks in the Chinese and Indian shops against a nominal payment.

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There was an attempt to take over all transport facilities both on land and sea. In Aceh ERRI levied duties on goods exported from Sigli and Meulaboh, and declared that a French-owned gold mine would be operated by the people.73 Just before the end of its short but remarkable career ERRI attempted to launch a comprehensive medical scheme for the whole of East Sumatra, in which all doctors would be enrolled and medicines would be supplied by ERRI.74 It is difficult to establish how coherent a Marxist strategy lay behind this extraordinary body. Its apologists claimed that it marked a historic advance towards 'the dialectic of a people's society',75 and that its system of requisitioning goods was based on a theory of sama rata sama rasa (equality and brotherhood).76 The most important political influence upon it appeared to be Joenoes Nasution, whose Marxist credentials were dubious, although Nathar Zainuddin was a force in the background. Even assuming the best intentions so ambitious a programme was bound to be abused and to be criticized. Three major criticisms were brought against ERRI when it fell at the end of April. The argument of the Marxists in the Republican Cabinet that it represented a 'state within a state' is hard to deny. Its aim was to take over all revenues so that it could finance the political parties, the fighting pemuda, and the government. It was also alleged that its leading figures had embezzled millions for themselves, and in the climate of the time it would be surprising if there were not at least a little truth behind the charge. The third allegation, impossible to substantiate, is that in imitating Japanese practice of forcibly requisitioning foodstuffs from farmers, it brought only misery to the little people of the residency.77 Whatever the truth of these charges, there is no doubt that ERRI'S aims brought it into inevitable conflict with all manner of existing economic interests, both of the government and the pemuda bodies. REACTION As Crane Brinton forcibly reminds us, a Thermidorean reaction is to be expected in every revolution, with its attendant 'moral let-down' and 'revulsion against the men who had made the terror'. 78 Yet such reactions do not resolve themselves into a Napoleon overnight, and it is often a considerable time before one can ascertain whether, and where, the revolution has come to rest; what it has achieved. In East Sumatra the reaction began a mere ten days after the beginning of the 'social revolution', in direct response to news of the killings. Since most of the early bloodshed occurred in the remoter southern part of the residency it was some time before its full extent was realized

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in Medan. 79 The fall of the glittering court of Langkat, on the other hand, had an immediate shock effect on the whole political elite. After negotiating with the sultan for the withdrawal of his armed guard (P.I.L.) away from Tanjung Pura to avoid a confrontation,pemuda of P K I and PESINDO led by former Kenkokutai cadres surrounded the palace on 8 March. On the night of the 9th the lights were cut off and the palace suddenly invaded. All the occupants were seized and searched, and two days later the seven most politically prominent tengkus were taken out and beheaded. 80 Much more shocking to pemuda opinion was the rape of two of the sultan's daughters the same night by the pasukan leaders. The offenders paid for this excess a month later when Islamic pemuda 'tried' and executed them. 81 The sultan himself and various female relatives were taken away captive and after some weeks handed over to Republican authorities in Brastagi. Less fortunate were the group of aristocrats and Pasukan V leaders who had been seized in Binjai in the first days of the 'social revolution'. Eighteen of them were executed on PESINDO orders on 19-20 March, including the gentle poet Tengku Amir Hamzah. Altogether thirty-eight members of the Langkat nobility were estimated to have died in this period. 82 The Langkat excesses convinced many waverers that the 'social revolution' had gone far enough. A different kind of pressure was now brought to bear on Dr Amir, principally by Dr Gindo Siregar, a cousin of Amir Sjarifuddin and by now the dominant figure in the pro-Sjahrir Socialist Party, and Mutalib Moro, the tough jaksa (government prosecutor) of Asahan, who had survived the violence through his ability to talk the language of the pemuda and, he believed, the aid of a magical djin. Dr Amir announced a meeting of the K N I and Persatuan Perjuangan on the 13th with the hope 'that this social revolution of ours will not consist only of extermination and destruction but will also result in a new life for the people'. 83 The meeting politely withdrew the mandate of Joenoes as Resident and Luat as 'pacifier', electing a five-man 'ruling council' for the residency in which the radicals (Joenoes and Saleh Oemar) were outnumbered by three who sought an end to the violence. The latter were therefore able to elect Gindo Siregar as chairman of the council and effective Resident, and Mutalib Moro as deputy. A commission was immediately dispatched to attempt to arrange an orderly imprisonment and trial for the aristocratic captives who remained alive. 84 Joenoes Nasution did not go without a fight. The day after the meeting a group of pemuda intimidated the hapless acting Governor in his house. Amir was almost ready to give up. He told the British commander 'that if only Allied troops would teach them ["extremist youths"] a lesson, his position would become much easier'. 85 He called another meeting

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of political leaders and offered to resign in conformity with the 'people's will', but the meeting preferred to hold to the arrangements of 13 March. Its only new decision was to confirm the will of the people of Langkat by appointing Adnan Nur Lubis (PNI) as head of government there.86 When Governor Hasan finally returned to Medan on 21 March, it was apparent that relations between different pemuda barisan were at a very tense point. 'Only a great measure of wisdom can prevent the outbreak of heavy fighting,' it was announced. 'May everyone keep a cool head.'87 The many rumours of a coup against Mr Hasan himself appear to have convinced him he was safer in Siantar, the only centre where the TRI appeared strong enough to protect him. Hasan stayed in Medan only long enough for a meeting with key political leaders, at which it was decided that he should remain as Governor at least until a forthcoming meeting of an all-Sumatra KNI in Bukittinggi. The meeting also accepted a demand from Colonel Tahir that the TRI's seizure of government authority be now accepted.88 Anything seemed worth a trial. Although Tahir had endorsed the action against the rajas, he was predictably the first pemuda leader publicly to insist that 'the sovereignty of the people must not and cannot be used to follow our own passions (hawa nafsu)'.39 Tahir had personal connexions with the Serdang court and an uncle of his wife had been a victim of the Asahan killings. As the most disciplined force behind the Republican government the TRI had also attracted aristocratic and conservative nationalists under its umbrella. The apparent anarchy of Langkat and Asahan was anathema to it. Both in Siantar and in Langkat TRI units were willing to fight their fellow pemuda in an attempt to have the aristocratic captives surrendered to Republican authority.90 Colonel Tahir's choice to head the military government was the man who had organized the finance and equipment of the TRI, Sjahrir's brother Mahruzar. The five-man 'ruling council' was now declared an advisory body to Mahruzar.91 In reality Mahruzar was as little in control of the situation as Gindo Siregar or Joenoes Nasution before him. The only effect of the proclamation was to align the TRI more clearly on the side of halting the 'social revolution', and allegedly to make it easier for TRI units and leaders to enrich themselves.92 Within a week the pathetic cluster of Republican leaders in Medan began to waver in their commitment to the TRI, perhaps primarily because Xarim M. S. returned to the city on 26 March, a few days later than the remainder of the Governor's party. Appalled at Hasan's apparent flight from the responsibilities of government in Medan, Xarim reportedly 'ordered' him back to the city for a meeting on 30 March, which decided among other things that it was time for the TRI to return to 'normal

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duties'. 93 The real question, however, was how much pressure the T R I could bring to bear on Mr Hasan or Dr Amir at any given time, as against the radical barisan. On his next visit to Medan, to meet Amir Sjarifuddin on 9 April, Hasan was ordered by Sarwono, in the name of the Persatuan Perjuangan, to sign a decree ending military rule and installing Luat Siregar as Resident. The same decree gave the Governor's first official confirmation of the 'social revolution' with the words: 'The heads of districts who have been chosen by the people in their respective districts are confirmed as heads of districts (heads of government) . . . from the date of their election.' 94 Tahir was furious with this decree, acknowledging it only ten days later. 95 T h e belated return of Xarim M. S. brought a new opportunity to impose some clear direction on the 'social revolution'. He was still the only leader with direct influence over all the most prominent pemuda leaders, especially those of PESINDO and the T R I . 9 6 Members of his P K I held key positions in government (Joenoes, followed by Luat), in ERRI, in the press (Jahja Jakoeb), and in the Persatuan Perjuangan (Soeffron, with Nathar in the background). The P K I itself had been strengthened by the revolutionary tide, as indicated by the 10,000 who attended its conference in Siantar on 8-9 April and the 40,000 members it now claimed in East Sumatra. Yet Xarim appears to have failed to impose a clear strategy for the 'social revolution' even on his own party. The public resolutions of the P K I Conference had nothing to say about it. 97 Xarim's talents were as a charismatic leader rather than a revolutionary strategist, but there were other reasons for his inability to capitalize on the situation after his Sumatran tour. Like the most prominent Marxists in Java he was more concerned with the national struggle and with the contest for Republican leadership than with social revolution, but he lacked the western education and polish which had made Amir Sjarifuddin and others acceptable to the national elite and the Allies. The fact that he was being increasingly suggested by pemuda as a replacement for Governor Hasan probably contributed to his caution. Finally, the East Sumatran revolution was part of a much larger whole, and the intervention of the central government at this point undoubtedly worked against the interests of the Left. Although the British in Sumatra were very slow to understand the significance and extent of the 'social revolution' they experienced some of its consequences directly. Violence increased markedly in March, and the British encountered the most determined resistance since their advent in an assault on Tanjung Morawa on 9-10 March. 98 A British raid on local T R I headquarters on 18 March was answered by an angry ultimatum from 'the revolutionary movement's leaders' that all British establishments would be destroyed and all Dutchmen taken prisoner if

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the people seized were not released. Still more serious was the success of ERRI and pemuda groups in depriving the Allied camp of both labour and supplies. 99 For these reasons rather than the 'social revolution' itself the British saw the situation in East Sumatra getting out of hand, and encouraged the moderate leaders with whom they dealt in Java to intervene. The author-turned-soldier, Laurens van der Post, brought three central government ministers and a dozen politicians and officials to Medan in a British plane on 9 April. To Sjahrir, Amir Sjarifuddin, and their Socialist Party colleagues, the East Sumatran 'social revolution' appeared to be a major threat to the Republic's standing both at home and abroad. The popularity among the social revolutionaries of Tan Malaka, whose arrest Amir Sjarifuddin was constantly called upon to explain, removed any remaining chance of the visitors' taking a positive view of the turbulence which greeted them in Medan. The three ministers (Amir Sjarifuddin, Natsir, and Rasjidi) gave the same message to all the rowdy meetings they addressed in Medan—revolutionary enthusiasm was all very well, but what was needed now was loyal support for the government. 'Our slogan must be: whichever of our countrymen become the government, we must all support and follow them 100 per cent. All efforts should be directed to building one strong government and one strong army.' 100 The Yogyakarta delegation was well supplied with Marxists, Amir Sjarifuddin and Abdulmadjid Djojoadiningrat representing what was to become the pro-Moscow wing of the Socialist Party, and Soebadio Sastrosatomo the Sjahrir wing. Both in public rallies and private meetings they tried to convince the P K I and PESINDO leaders that this was the stage for national, not social, revolution and that the Kremlin's 'Dmitrov doctrine' still demanded a common front against fascism and imperialism. Xarim M. S. and Luat Siregar, who remained unconvinced, struck the visiting Marxists as romantic 'infantile' leftists, indulging far too freely both in popular adulation and more mundane pleasures. Amir Sjarifuddin confided to Van der Post that 'there was no real leadership among the Indonesians in Sumatra [and] that the civilian administration was breaking down'. 101 Amir's three days in Medan apparently convinced him that the central government would have to support Mr Hasan as Governor, despite his weakness and his old-fashioned conservatism, because he was the only card they had against the revolutionaries in East Sumatra. During the first meeting of an all-Sumatra K N I , in Bukittinggi (17-18 April), the ministers swung their influence behind retaining Hasan as Governor, Amir Sjarifuddin's cousin Dr Gindo Siregar becoming his deputy in the working committee of the Sumatra KNI. 1 0 2 Never had the leaders from Java encountered such wild scenes of

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enthusiasm. Crowds of pemuda were constantly surrounding them, shouting their revolutionary slogans—darah (blood) and berontak (revolt) —with clenched fist on high. Vast rallies in Medan and Siantar resounded to the strains of the PESINDO song—Darah rakyat (the blood of the people). Practically the whole population of Medan thronged the Medan rally on 11 April, with dozens collapsing from the heat. Not all of this enthusiasm was in support of the central government's position. Amir Sjarifuddin was jeered by some of the crowd when he spoke of the need for discipline. 103 Yet there were many within pemuda ranks who heeded Amir's warnings. His visit marked a turning point in the direction of the revolution in East Sumatra. The all-Sumatra leadership of the Persatuan Perjuangan had initiated the 'social revolution', and already the reputations of many of them were tainted by the use they had made of it. The less prominent East Sumatra branch leadership of the P.P. now took the initiative, summoning to Siantar just after Amir Sjarifuddin's departure the leaders of the eight principal barisan in each district. Marnicus Hoetasoit, vice-chairman of the P.P., harangued delegates to the effect thatinju stice could not be combated with more injustice. After a stormy debate the gathering aligned the P.P. firmly behind the government. The key resolution read: 'Seizures, arrests, and raids against people, and trials of them, may only be carried out by the government, supported by the Persatuan Perjuangan.' 104 More specifically the meeting adopted a controversial motion that all female captives of the 'social revolution' should be handed over to the T R I , that male captives should be concentrated at one camp in Karoland, and that revolutionary leaders who had enriched themselves with royal treasure should be brought to justice. 105 As the Republican information service in Medan later put it: . . . at an opportune moment concerned elements happened to arise from within the Persatuan Perjuangan and adopt a single aim—Support the Republic in every field! . . . But for this arbitrary actions and excessively radical social upheavals would certainly have continued to run riot. There were now three types of authority in East Sumatra, the analysis continued: the government; the Persatuan Perjuangan; and 'wild shadowy barisan'. The first two had resolved to work together, while the third persisted in weakening unity by coups and provocations. 106 Such statements represented an aspiration rather than a reality, but they showed that the tide was turning against any continuation of uncontrolled revolutionary action. The more radical revolutionaries sensed this shift and attempted to consolidate their position before it was too late. The absence of the major government leaders between 13 and 27 April in connexion with the Bukittinggi K N I meetings gave them

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another opportunity. Dr Amir was appointed to his last and most pathetic term as acting Governor, and Joenoes Nasution wasted no time in again terrorizing him into supporting more radical measures. 107 Amir however was a broken reed, with no more influence to distribute. By 20 April he was planning an escape from the 'shooting and looting' which he saw all around him in his house near the Central Market in Medan. He now sought protection not with republicans but with a guard supplied by the British. On 25 April he defected finally to the safety of the British camp, whence he issued a despairing statement. 'I see no chance of achieving anything amidst this bandit band.. . . The country is sliding towards chaos. There is not the least unity in Sumatra. The T R I is of no account. There is not one instrument of authority.' 108 More specifically, Dr Amir asserted that what he called a 'hyperextremist' and 'super-communist' group led by Joenoes Nasution had tried to lure him to Siantar and involve him in a coup against Mr Hasan. It is not difficult to understand the alarm Dr Amir felt at any attempt to remove him from his British escape route. The allegation that a coup was being planned against M r Hasan is however confirmed by other sources. Joenoes and the leaders of ERRI had concentrated their activities in Siantar following the strong verbal attack on ERRI by Amir Sjarifuddin's delegation. Only in Siantar could they count on the support of their own pasukan, the Cap Rante, led by Logam (Waldemar Marpaoeng) and largely composed of Toba Batak toughs. There Joenoes Nasution and Nathar Zainuddin formed a five-man 'National Council', evidently as a new revolutionary alternative to the Persatuan Perjuangan leadership. There were rumours that this group planned to kidnap Mr Hasan on his return from Bukittinggi. 109 Hasan reached Siantar on 27 April, accompanied by the secretary of the Republican Interior Ministry, Mr Hermani, who had remained to help reorganize the Sumatra government after the ministers had returned to Java. The two men were entertained to lunch by the senior Republican official in Siantar, Urbanus Pardede, a close colleague of Joenoes Nasution and the ERRI group. Instead of a meal Urbanus offered his guests only a meagre rice patty, 'to show how the masses were suffering'. At first he prevented them leaving, but after a period of confusion they were allowed to proceed to Medan without explanation. 110 Apparently the plans for a coup had collapsed. Mutalib Moro had been among those invited to join the move and had used his influence with the Persatuan Perjuangan to avert it. 111 Joenoes Nasution and six of his supporters had been captured in Binjai on the night of 25 April. The T R I and other pasukan had apparently been alerted to the plans in Siantar in time to neutralize the Cap Rante. There was fighting between the T R I and Cap Rante during the next few days, at the end

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of which Col. Ahmad Tahir 'arrested' Urbanus Pardede for his role in the affair. Madja Poerba was restored to office in Siantar, becoming the only wakil pemerintah NRI to outlast the 'social revolution'.112 Although all the leading actors in this bungled coup were communists, it was scarcely a communist coup. Joenoes Nasution, his reputation already damaged by too close an identification with the 'social revolution', was expelled from the PKI ten days after his arrest.113 Some reports suggest that Xarim M. S. was the candidate to replace Hasan and that he and Luat Siregar had been consulted earlier about the move, while others assert that these two 'moderate' PKI leaders were to be seized along with Hasan. The truth appears to be that there was acute disunity and uncertainty within the PKI and even within its 'extreme' Joenoes/Nathar wing. The failure of the PKI leadership to impose a clear strategy either of supporting the existing government or of overthrowing it ensured that the party lost ground steadily in the following months. The thrust of the 'social revolution' was now decisively over. In a series of stinging articles in the Soeloeh Merdeka114 Arif Lubis denounced ERRI—first in Abdulmadjid's Marxist jargon as anarchosyndicalism and a state within a state, then as corruption on a grand scale, and finally as a Dutch provocation. Luat Siregar as Resident announced on 4 May that ERRI was no longer an official body, and that licences and passes would henceforth be issued directly by the government and its Economic Board. At a more realistic level, the Persatuan Perjuangan asked its branches a week later to liquidate all ERRI operations and take its economic activities provisionally into their own hands.115 Arif Lubis's fierce denunciations of corruption brought into the open suspicions about radical leaders which had been growing since the 'social revolution' began. Pseudo-leaders, he alleged, had come to power at the beginning of the revolution when people could not tell them from the true variety. Now you could see them by their luxurious cars and villas. Thousands of yards of cloth, hundreds of tons of estate rubber, and even the vegetables and rice of poor farmers had been seized without any return to estate labourers, farmers, or the government. The attack was aimed primarily at the ERRI group, but it hit a wider target. Mutual suspicions and accusations of corruption would henceforth embitter the relations between barisan and their leaders of every political colour.

1. Telegram from Dr A. K. Gani to M r T . Hasan, M r Luat Siregar, and Col. A. Tahir, 13 May 1946, cited in Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 May 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. A slightly different wording is cited in N.I.B. IV, p. 392. 2. W I S 13, 14 January 1946, W O 172/9893. D r Amir's impressions of his

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visit to Java were serialized in Soeloeh Merdeka and later published as Melawat ke Djawa (Medan, 1946). 3. Soeloeh Merdeka, 18 January 1946, as translated in Appendix A of W I S 15, 28 January 1946, W O 172/9893. Dr Amir's notes, 14 June 1946, RvO I.C. 005968. 4. Soeloeh Merdeka, 16 January 1946; 22 and 25 February 1946; 2March 1946. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 16-28 February, Bi.Z. 21/1. 5. Soeloeh Merdeka, 14 January 1946. H. Basrie, 'Tentang pimpinan dan struktur pemerintahan di Sumatera-Timur pada awal tahun 1946' (typescript). Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 January 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. Interviews. D r Amir's impressions of the Javanese rulers are inMelawat keDjawa, pp. 23-9. 6. Interview Mahruzar, July 1972. 7. A N P Aneta I.D.D. 30 July 1946, p . 163. 'Illegal export', in The Economic Review of Indonesia, I, no. 3 (March 1947), p. 37. Interviews. 8. Soeloeh Merdeka, 29 January and 2 March 1946. 9. Interview T . A. B. Husny. Tengku Amir Hamzah's status as an active Republican has become an emotive issue because of the controversial decision to declare him a 'National Hero' in 1975. His eminence lies outside politics, but even in that sphere his memory is more than adequately served by the truth. 10. Soeloeh Merdeka, 29 January 1946. Interviews. 11. Raliby, p. 73. Semangat Merdeka, 17 November 1945. Atjeh Sinbun, 17-v2605. T h e Dutch dismissed the Sultan of Siak as 'an extremely weak figure', and claimed that he privately admitted having been effectively forced to flee by the pemuda: Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 January and 16-31 January, 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. 12. From Hasan's policy statement in Soeloeh Merdeka, 23 January 1946. 13. Ibid., 26 January 1946. 14. Ibid., 2 February 1946. 15. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 16-31 January 1946, p. 7, Bi.Z. 21/1. 16. Soeloeh Merdeka, 4 February 1946. Also Raliby, p. 578. 17. Soeloeh Merdeka, 4 February 1946. A rough English translation appears in Appendix C to W I S 17, 9 February 1946, WO 172/9893. 18. Ibid. 19. Speeches of Tengku Hafas and Mr T . Mahadi in Soeloeh Merdeka, February 1946. Interviews.

17

20. Soeloeh Merdeka, 17 February 1946. Daulat (or kedaulatan) rakyat means the sovereignty of the people, while daulat Tuanku were the customary Malay words of obeisance to royalty. 21. Mohammad Said, 'What was the "Social Revolution of 1946" in East Sumatra', trans. B. Anderson and T . Siagian, Indonesia, 15 (1973), p. 170. 22. Interview M r T . Hasan. 23. Mohammad Said, op. cit., pp. 172-3. Hamka, Kenang-kenangan p. 243. Interviews.

hidup,

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24. Shortly before Amir's defection to the Allied camp, his son wrote that Joenoes 'is the most influential man in the underworld, the father of the extremists. Thus far he has listened to Father. How much longer?' N E F I S Document 1207 in ARA Archief Algemene Secretarie, Kist II, dossier 51. While Amir was extremely bitter about Joenoes after his defection, Joenoes was the only Indonesian interviewed by the writer who defended Amir's role in the revolution enthusiastically. 25. Soeloeh Merdeka, 17 and 18 January 1946. 26. Hasan Basrie, 'Tentang Pimpinan', p. 2. 27. Soeloeh Merdeka, 28 February 1946. 28. W I S 24, 30 March 1946, W O 172/9893; also N.I.B.

IV, p. 20.

29. Soeloeh Merdeka, 26 March 1946. 30. Soeloeh Merdeka, 12, 16, 19, 23, 25, and 28 February 1946. W I S 18, p. 2, and 19, p . 2; 16 and 23 February 1946, W O 172/9893. Verslag NoordSumatra, 1-15 and 16-28 February 1946; Bi.Z. 21/1. Interviews. 31. Notably Mohammad Said, op. cit., p. 184 (Indonesian original in Merdeka 1 March 1972); interviews Mahruzar and Wahab Siregar. Most other sources however simply attribute the action to the Persatuan Perjuangan leadership, and assume as I have that the Markas Agung was dissolved in its favour. T h e membership of the key group appears to be so similar to the Markas Agung, apart from the natural addition of Saleh Oemar, that it makes little difference what it was called. Two members of the inner group, Marzuki Lubis (PNI) and Bachtiar Joenoes (MIT j Sabilillah). as well as its influential adviser Xarim M. S., were absent with the Governor's party from 6 March. All three of them had been involved in discussions about a possible coup against the rajas before they left. Interview Bachtiar Joenoes; Nip Xarim's recorded interview with Marzuki Lubis. 32. Both men were P K I members, though Bustami was the more politically oriented. Amir Joesoef, 'General chairman' of BAPPER and ERRI, had like Mahruzar established a metal workshop during the Japanese occupation, and established a good relationship with pemuda by providing them with parang and knives during the October fighting. Interview Mahruzar. 33. Soeloeh Merdeka, 5, 12, 18, 22, 26, and 28 February 1946. A lengthy but vague account of BAPPER/ERRI is given in ibid., 19-21 March 1946, where its basic principles are attributed to 'our bapak Joenoes Nasution'. 34. Malik Munir (East Sumatra PESINDO chairman) in Soeloeh Merdeka, 17 February 1946. 35. Luat Siregar in ibid. An example of Sukarno's ill-defined emphasis on 'national revolution and social revolution' in January is in Raliby, pp. 176-8. 36. Berdjoeang, 25 February 1946, cited in Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 16-28 February 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. 37. In addition to the Tanjung Balai and Siantar rallies noted below, 8,000 reportedly attended a Persatuan Perjuangan rally in Brastagi in early March, opposing negotiations with the Dutch. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 March 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. 38. Soeloeh Merdeka, 22 February 1946. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 16-28 February 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. Interviews.

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39. Soeloeh Merdeka, 27 February 1946. W I S 19, 23 February 1946, p. 5; and W I S 20, 2 March 1946, p. 4; W O 172/9893. Tengku Luckman Sinar, 'Revolusi Sosial'. Interviews. 40. Interviews. 41. Soeloeh Merdeka, 2, 5, and 6 March 1946. Interviews. 42. When challenged by MASJUMI representatives at a subsequent full meeting of the Persatuan Perjuangan Sarwono replied, 'Even though we tried to keep it secret it leaked out; how much more if we had put it to a meeting.' Interview Arsjad Thalif Lubis. 43. In a 1972 interview with Nip Xarim (taped), the late Marzuki Lubis (of Markas Agung and Persatuan Perjuangan) specified the three motives in the order suggested here, i.e. (1) to weaken potential support for the Dutch; (2) to provide funds; (3) to increase popular support. 44. Interviews. Tk. Joesoef Aziddin, Revolutie antie Sociaal (Tanjung Balai, 1948), pp. 74-5. 45. Anthony Reid, The Indonesian National Revolution, 1945-1950 (Clayton, Longman Australia, 1974), pp. 115-16. 46. Interviews. 47. Mohammad Said, 'What was the "Social Revolution of 1946" ', pp. 183-6. Information about the property seized is in an unpublished section of this article, retained by its author. Joesoef Aziddin, pp. 72-4. W I S 21, 9 March 1946, p. 4, W O 172/9893. Interviews. T h e impression of Liddle that four Simalungun rajas were killed on 3 March must originate from the fact that two imprisoned rajas, Purba and Silimakota, were killed during the Dutch offensive in 1947. William Liddle, Ethnicity, Party, and National Integration : An Indonesian case study (New Haven, 1970), p. 54; and 'Suku Simalungun: An ethnic group in search of representation', Indonesia 3 (1967), p. 11. 48. Joesoef Aziddin, pp. 61-3. Tengku Luckman Sinar, 'Revolusi Sosial'. Hans Post Politionele Actie, pp. 123-4. Soeloeh Merdeka, 13, 14, and 15 March 1946. Interviews. T h e 140 estimate is that of Aziddin, while Tengku Luckman lists twenty-five names. A Dutch document of August 1947 stated that Dr Mansur of Asahan lost 127 relatives in the 'social revolution', Bi.Z. 22/6. Some private estimates of killings in Asahan run as high as 1,200. 49. Soeloeh Merdeka, 10 APril 1946. 50. Ibid. Joesoef Aziddin, pp. 6-12. Interviews. A lurid account of the Sultan of Kualuh's death, apparently not far from the truth, appeared in the London News Chronicle, 4 May 1946. A Dutch report, 'De"Sociale revolutie" ter S.O.K.', 16 March 1946, Bi.Z. 22/6, is poorly informed on all these events. 51. Tengku Luckman Sinar, 'Revolusi Sosial' and 'Suatu Tengah Malam' (typescripts). 52. Ibid. W I S 21, 9 March 1946, p. 3, W O 172/9893. Soeloeh Merdeka, 1 March 1946. Interviews. 53. A thinly fictionalized account of Dr Nainggolan's personal tragedy makes a poignant short story by Beb Vuyk—'De laatste waardigheid'. Dr Nambela [Nainggolan] hates the Dutch to whom he later offered his services in the N S T federal state; still more does he hate the Republicans who killed his

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wife and daughter. Perhaps he hates himself. In an attempt at justification he compulsively shows everyone a gruesome photograph of his murdered family. Rob Nieuwenhuys (ed.), Om nooit te vergeten: Nederlandse letterkunde over Indonesie van 1935 tot heden (Amsterdam, Querido, 1974), pp. 11-27. 54. Tengku Luckman Sinar, 'Revolusi Sosial' and 'Suatu Tengah Malam'. Rokyoto and D . A. R. Klana Putera, Penemuan pusara Pudjangga Amir Hamzah, pp. 12-13. Interviews. 55. Interview Marnicus Hoetasoit (Deputy Chairman of East Sumatra Persatuan Perjuangan), 1969. 56. W I S 21, 9 March 1946, p. 8, WO 172/9893. 57. Ibid., and Soeloeh Merdeka, 7 March 1946. 58. Soeloeh Merdeka, 5 March 1946. Also reprinted in Raliby, p. 598. Two days later Amir explained more fully the need for a 'social revolution' in terms of the distortion which Dutch-supported feudalism in East Sumatra had wrought on a society which was basically democratic elsewhere in the island. Soeloeh Merdeka, 7 March 1946, partially reprinted in Raliby, p. 270. 59. Soeloeh Merdeka, 5 March 1946. Also Raliby, pp. 268-9. 60. Soeloeh Merdeka, 7, 8, and 20 March 1946. 'De "Sociale Revolutie" ter SOK', 16 March 1946, in Bi.Z. 22/6. 61. Soeloeh Merdeka, 6 and 12 March 1946. Saidy-Hoesny, Kenangan Masa (Medan, 1969), pp. 42-5. Interviews. 62. Soeloeh Merdeka, 9 and 21 March 1946. Interviews. 63. Soeloeh Merdeka, 13 March 1946. Penerangan no. 1 of Saranan Penerangan T R I , Simalungun district, in 346/AGSU/geheim, ARA Archief Algemene Secretarie, Kist II, dossier 51. Interviews. 64. Soeloeh Merdeka, 13 March 1946. Joesoef Aziddin, pp. 65-6. Interviews. 65. Joesoef Aziddin, p . 14; also p. 81. 66. Ibid., pp. 17-23. Typescript Tengku Luckman. 67. Soeloeh Merdeka, 13 March and 10 April 1946. As in other places a moderate intellectual, Dr Hidajat, had been named on 8 March as assistant to Abdul Rahman. This D r Hidajat apparently had no influence whatever, and later complained bitterly to the Dutch at the orgy of plunder, of 'bestial' murder and so forth which the TALAPETA-based PESINDO had carried out in Labuhan Batu during the social revolution. 'Relaas van Dr Hidajat over de situatie in Zuid SOK', Bi.Z. 22/6. 68. Soeloeh Merdeka, 5, 7, and 8 March 1946. Interviews. 69. Soeloeh Merdeka, 7 and 9 March 1946. 70. Soeloeh Merdeka, 12 and 13 March 1946. T h e MASJUMI statement is reprinted in Raliby, pp. 274-5; and (in English) in Feith and Castles, Indonesian Political Thinking, 1945-65 (Ithaca, 1970), pp. 56-7. 71. Soeloeh Merdeka, 18 and 22 March 1946. 72. Soeloeh Merdeka, 7 March 1946. Interviews. 73. Soeloeh Merdeka, 12, 19, 20, and 21 March 1946, and 27 April 1946. W I S

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE 23 and 24, 23 and 30 March 1946 respectively, W O 172/9893. Merdeka (Jakarta), 1 June 1946. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 April 1946, pp. 13-14; 16-30 April 1946, p. 9; Bi.Z. 21/1. Nathar Zainuddin had introduced ERRI to Aceh on 10 March: Semangat Merdeka, 13 March 1946.

74. Soeloeh Merdeka, 26 April 1946. 75. Soeloeh Merdeka, 19 March 1946. 76. Iman Marah 1947 typescript, p. 7. 77. The fullest indictments are ibid.; Mr Hermani in Merdeka, 1 June 1946; and Arif Lubis in Soeloeh Merdeka, 29 April 1946. 78. Crane Brinton, The Anatomy of Revolution (London, Jonathan Cape, 1953), p. 262. 79. T h e British, usually in close touch with Dr Amir and other leaders, commented on 9 March: 'Considering the far-reaching changes which have taken place . . . the scale of disturbances is surprisingly small, and the number of persons murdered or killed . . . a correspondingly small proportion.' W I S 21, 9 March 1946, WO 172/9893. Dr Amir's communiques had reported only two deaths at that point. 80. Tengku Luckman's typescripts give seven names, including Datuk Djamil, the Sultan's powerful secretary; his brother; the jaksa (prosecutor); and the P.I.L. commander. A letter from D r Amir's son, 20 April 1946, confirms an impression from interviews that Amir insisted on the safety of his patron the Sultan, but not of Datuk Djamil and the others whom he considered had plotted to kill him (Amir) in September 1945. N E F I S Document 1207, ARA Archief Algemene Secretarie, Kist II, dossier 51. 81. The rape was sufficiently public to be known to the British two days later; report appended to 'De "Sociale Revolutie" ter SOK', Bi.Z. 22/6. Tengku Luckman, 'Suatu Tengah Malam', states that the women consented in return for their father's life. Also Inoue, Bapa Djanggut, p. 140. Interviews. 82. Tengku Luckman 'Revolusi Sosial'. Rokyoto and D . A. R. Klana Putera, pp. 12-14 and 22-8. Soeloeh Merdeka, 12 March 1945. Interviews. 83. Soeloeh Merdeka, 13 March 1946. 84. Ibid., 14 March 1946. Interviews. 85. W I S 22, 16 March 1946, W O 172/9893. A number of informants stated that they learned later (in April or May) that Joenoes Nasution had sent groups of pemuda to intimidate Dr Amir by throwing stones on his roof, climbing into a nearby tree wearing scary masks, and so on. 86. Soeloeh Merdeka, 15 and 16 March 1946. W I S 22, 16 March 1946, WO 172/9893. 87. Communique cited in Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 16-31 March 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. 88. W I S 23, 23 March 1946, W O 172/9893. 89. Soeloeh Merdeka, 9 March 1946. 90. Interviews. 91. Soeloeh Merdeka, 23 and 26 March 1946. 92. Iman Marah typescript, p. 7.

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93. W I S 24, 30 March 1946, and 25, 6 April 1946; Cable 26 Indian Div. to ALFSEA 30 March 1946; all WO 172/9893. 94. Soeloeh Merdeka, 9 April 1946. Interview M r T . M. Hasan. 95. Soeloeh Merdeka, 20 April 1946. Interviews. 96. T h e British believed Xarim's return to Medan was responsible for a sudden halt to anti-British violence at the end of March. W I S 24, 30 March 1946, W O 172/9893. 97. Soeloeh Merdeka, 15 April 1946 listed resolutions to extend organizations among workers and peasants; to intensify the training of cadres and the Barisan Merah; to 'deepen political consciousness among the people, to participate in representative councils from the village to the city'; and to make P K I branches conform to governmental administrative divisions. Also Soeloeh Merdeka, 12 April 1946. 98. Soeloeh Merdeka, 14 March 1946. Manchester Guardian and The Times, 12 March 1946. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 March 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. 99. W I S 23, 23 March 1946, WO 172/9893. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 16-31 March 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. 100.

10 April speech cited Raliby, p. 287. Also Soeloeh Merdeka, 10-12 April 1946.

101. Van der Post to Van Bylandt, 24 April 1946, in Bi.Z. 22/6. Interviews. 102. N.I.B. IV, pp. 206-8. Republik Indonesia. Propinsi Sumatera Utara, pp. 103-7. Interviews. 103. Soeloeh Merdeka, 11 April 1946. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 April 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. Interviews. 104. Soeloeh Merdeka, 15 April 1946. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 April 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. The barisan represented were PESINDO, Barisan Merah, Sabilillah, NAPINDO, Harimau Liar, Sarikat Nelayan, Partai Sosialis, and PARKI (the Christian body, represented by Hoetasoit). 105. Interview Marnicus Hoetasoit, July 1972. 106. Soeloeh Merdeka, 3 May 1946. Also N.I.B.

IV, p. 210.

107. Iman Marah typescript 1947, pp. 7-8. Interviews. 108. Dr Amir statement of 25 April 1946, in Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 16-30 April 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1. Also N.I.B. IV, pp. 177 and 209. On 20 April Dutch intelligence had seized a letter from Amir's son to a Dutch resident of the Allied zone, apparently aimed at preparing the Dutch for Amir's defection: 'if things go badly, then in 2 days we will be on the boat to Europe'. N E F I S Document 1207 in ARA. 109. W I S 28, 27 April 1946, WO 172/9893. Iman Marah typescript 1947, pp. 8-9; N.I.B. IV, p . 209. 110. Interview Mr T . M . Hasan, October 1970. Soeloeh Merdeka, 29 April 1946. 111. Interview Arsjad Thalif Lubis, 1969. 112. Iman Marah typescript 1947, p. 9. Interviews. N.I.B.

IV, p . 209.

113. Interview M. Joenoes Nasution, 1969. 114. Soeloeh Merdeka, 29 and 30 April, 2, 4, and 7 May 1946. Arif Lubis's pen name was 'Bang Djoko'. 115. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 May 1946, Bi.Z. 21/1.

IX PRINCES, POLITICIANS. AND PEASANTS

T H E Sumatran revolution struck its participants as an autonomous force with its own life and will, 'heedless of us who created it'. 1 Once it was in full flight the individual had to ride it or be trampled under foot. Only when it paused, astonished at its own force, did it appear possible to direct it into some defined new path. Even at the point when new and constructive possibilities appeared to be open, neither the established nationalists from above nor the communists from below were strong or imaginative enough to turn them to account. If we compare the north Sumatran case with Asian revolutions which have been considered more successful, this is the most striking distinction. In Vietnam and China communist parties had already developed a recognized national leadership, a cadre system, and even a working relationship with sections of the peasantry by the time their great opportunity came in 1945. Even in Hyderabad, whose abortive revolution of 1946-8 bears a superficial resemblance to the East Sumatran experience, the communist party had been able to work among the peasants of rural Telengana since 1940.2 Dutch and then Japanese repression had given Sumatran communists no comparable opportunity to develop party structure and discipline before they were suddenly confronted with revolutionary opportunities of extraordinary scope. Individual communists demonstrated remarkable imagination and leadership, but the party they formed was almost as spontaneous and opportunistic as the revolution of which it was part. The ability of the P K I to embody a revolution from below was particularly damaged by the vulnerability of its leaders to charges of corruption and soft living. In other parts of Asia decolonization had been taken far enough by the Japanese or the western colonial powers to arm a non-revolutionary nationalist leadership with legitimacy, visibility, and a degree of control over the bureaucracy and the military. Such advantages enabled Sukarno and Hatta to stay on top of the revolutionary process in Java, riding it in the direction of national rather than social revolution. They proved ultimately too strong for the ill-organized communists in Java trying

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to ride in a different direction, as did the Indian Congress government in Hyderabad and Aung San in relation to the Burmese communists. T h e Japanese had not allowed a nationalist leadership of comparable strength to develop in Sumatra. T h e absence of a leadership to define the Sumatran revolution in its own terms gave it an especially spontaneous character. In seeking for explanations and analogies, Sumatrans themselves turned to the French revolution rather than the Russian or Chinese. A small book on the French revolution was produced by an Acehnese journalist in March 1946, and the example was widely quoted to explain both regicide and the terror. 3 T h e nemesis of Louis XVI was rendered into traditional Acehnese verse form so that it could be read aloud in village prayer-halls. 4 There is more in the analogy than spontaneity and regicide. As Brinton has pointed out, 5 when the balance sheet is made for a revolution like the French, one of the clearest consequences is likely to be the sweeping away of anachronisms and local particularities. Among the incontrovertible consequences of 1789 were a metric system, a centralized pattern of administration and education, a potent set of national myths and symbols. The revolution in northern Sumatra made a similarly sharp break with the diverse and fragmented past. The array of uleebalang, imeum, sibayak, sultans, rajas, datuks, and raja urung was finally swept away, along with the judicial system through which they had continued to administer the customary adat of their diverse peoples. Traditional and local claims to authority had to yield before the urgent imperatives of nationalism. The enthusiasm of pemuda for the ideal of national unity was intense, unsullied by practical experience of control from Java. The more chaotic the situation in Sumatra became and the more it was used in Dutch propaganda as evidence for lack of Republican authority, the greater was the pemuda determination to support a national identity. In June 1946 it was announced that Sumatra would adopt the Javanese system of administrative grades, as 'an indication that in every respect Sumatra does not want to be separated from Java'. 6 The parallel hierarchies of the kerajaan on one side and the Dutch/Republican Assistant-Residents and controleurs on the other now gave way to a uniform administration of Resident, bupati, and camat. The reality of a centralized administration was still many years in the future, but its form was made possible by the 'social revolutions'. T h e pergerakan had finally triumphed over its old adversary, completing the process of secularization begun by the Dutch and the Japanese. This work of destruction, opening the way to a new Indonesian identity and structure, can be considered characteristic of the revolution in northern Sumatra and to some extent throughout Indonesia. T h e pro-

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cess did not necessarily require peasant involvement. In many areas the revolution was in fact carried through by urban or semi-militarized youth, without opening any positive new horizons for the poor rural majority. For at least two peoples with whom we have dealt, the Acehnese and the Karo Batak, we must however recognize a true social revolution in which peasants were enthusiastically involved. For both these peoples colonialism had been experienced as defeat and disaster, creating an urgently felt need for a 'non-western' route to the modern world. In each case the revolution offered peasants more than the remote ideals of nationalism, socialism, or independence. These abstractions were successfully married to older ideologies through which they could be understood, and to a concrete peasant demand for land. In the case of Aceh the ideology was Islam, which had always been at the heart of Acehnese patriotism and since the 1930s also a route to modernization. Once the ulama declared that defence of the Indonesian Republic was a holy war and a continuation of the righteous struggle of Teungku Chik di Tiro, there could be no doubt that popular sympathy would be behind it. The uleebalang fell in the first instance because a few of them had brazenly defied this popular mood. At least in Pidie the anti-uleebalang cause offered the further promise of regaining land unjustly seized from peasant families and bringing the ulama-led struggle against uleebalang oppression to a victorious conclusion. Famous reformist ulama had provided both inspiration and direct leadership for this popular movement against the colonial order. Most of those who rose to military and political authority in the revolution had been part of the reformist enthusiasm of the 1930s, and they regarded Daud Beureu'eh as a beloved father figure. 'Those who strove in the various parties, PESINDO, P N I , Mujahidin, etc. were all linked to PUSA discipline. Therefore PUSA herself did not need to act, she could merely be proud.' 7 Even Dutch reports conceded the orderliness and sense of purpose in Aceh after its 'social revolution', which contrasted so sharply with East Sumatra. 8 This was the only Republican Residency which appeared to offer no basis of support whatever for the Dutch-promoted counterrevolution, and it was given a wide berth in both the 1947 and 1949-50 Dutch offensives. Muhammad Radjab, the able Republican journalist who toured Sumatra just before the first Dutch offensive, declared Aceh by far the most orderly, well-administered Residency in Java and Sumatra. Only Malang in East Java could rival the cleanliness of Acehnese towns. Once Acehnese got over their distrust of outsiders, he believed, they would leave other Indonesians behind in the race for modernization. 9

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Such an opportunity did not arise. The dynamic of the local Acehnese social revolution appeared incompatible with the drive to unity which proved to be at the heart of the Indonesian national revolution as a whole. The new class which had come to power in Aceh, Islamic-educated theologians and reformers, was too far removed in spirit from the Dutch-educated urban professionals who led the nationalist movement elsewhere. Problems with the central government began to arise in 1949, and by 1953 a full-scale rebellion had broken out with Daud Beureu'eh at its head. The Karo Batak had also been alienated from the colonial order, as they showed in their aversion to Dutch-supported education and their resentment of land alienation to western estates in the name of the upstart Malay sultans. As we have seen, the aron movement in the Deli and Langkat dusun where the land issue had been concentrated represented a true peasant rebellion. Defeated in 1942, the Karos of the dusun obtained their objectives in full through the 'social revolution' four years later. Malay kerajaan authority in the area was eliminated, and with it the threat that land occupied by Karos would return to the control of the estates or the sultans. As if to confirm this victory, the frontier of Karo political authority was officially extended in June 1946, the dusun district of Pancur Batu being transferred for a time from Deli-Serdang to Karoland kabupaten.10 The social stigma attached to Karo identity was removed, and many who once preferred to pass as Malays began proudly to declare themselves Karo. On the Karo plateau itself the revolution was also welcomed enthusiastically, from the moment the Karos provided the first setback for British troops in November 1945. Destruction of the artificial authority of sibayak and raja urung in the 'social revolution' was evidently a popular move, linked as it was to a redistribution of the extensive new sawah holdings some of them had acquired from their position. When the Dutch launched their military offensive against East Sumatra in July 1947 they encountered the most sustained guerrilla resistance in Karoland, where the civilian population had initially fled the coming of Dutch troops. One Dutch war correspondent described Karoland as 'practically deserted' on the troops' arrival. 11 The revolution had removed the artificial restraints which colonialism had imposed on the modernization of Karo society. If the Karo had rejected modern education in the Christian-colonial form in which it had first been presented to them, they now hungered for it in its new national colours: When a schoolteacher in Lau Balang was considered lazy, although he taught morning and evening and also anti-illiteracy classes in the afternoon,

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because there was such a shortage of teachers, this teacher was taken into the jungle by the villagers and tied to a tree, for three days according to their intention although the wedana fortunately heard about it and released him. Since then the teacher had to work very hard. . . . The Karo people pleaded for more teachers to be sent.12 T h e Karo continued their remarkable economic drive as Indonesia's most successful commercial farmers, while the revolution for the first time thrust them also into the forefront of the race to enter the new educated elite. 13 This popular enthusiasm did not solve the leadership problem, which eventually gave as much anguish to Karoland as to the remainder of East Sumatra. In July 1947 the Harimau Liar was able to conduct an orgy of killing on a scale which exceeded the 'social revolution' itself. T h e victims were now fellow Republicans fleeing the Dutch military action, sometimes carrying loot from the palaces of the rajas which excited the indignation or envy of less favoured pasukan. About 2,000 are thought to have died in grisly massacres in Karoland and others in Simalungun and Tapanuli. 14 Yet even the terrorism of the Harimau Liar did not alienate Karoland from the revolution. The Karo continued to give their overwhelming support to the P N I , which embodied for them the revolutionary cause, and they spearheaded the Republican move to dissolve the Dutch-backed N S T in early 1950.15 The revolution brought no comparable liberating or energizing influence to the other peasant cultivators of East Sumatra. Javanese and Toba Batak migrants cultivating former plantation land were no doubt grateful to the revolution for preventing more than a very partial postwar restoration of plantation claims on land. Long-established Malay and Simalungun cultivators were more likely to regard the radical movement culminating in the 'social revolution' as a time of anarchy and humiliation. We have seen the ineffective attempts of Malays in Sunggal, Langkat, and Labuhan Deli to defend their rajas. T h e Dutch were later able to turn Malay and Simalungun resentment into support for their own federalist policies, while the revolutionary parties—PNI and PKI—never struck significant roots in these communities. 16

\J

Some of the negative effects of the East Sumatran 'social revolution' emerge more clearly in neighbouring North Tapanuli, uncomplicated by the allegations of pro-Dutch treachery brought against the rajas of East Sumatra or of ethnic prejudice brought against their pergerakan opponents. At the level of the village (huta) Toba Batak adat had determined which marga and even which family would be dominant. Dutch colonial rule had as usual made the village headship (raja huta) into an inflexible hereditary office, while also imposing an artificial administrative unit, the negeri, above it.

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The East Sumatran 'social revolution' spilled immediately into nearby Samosir island in Lake Toba, carried by some revolutionary pemuda from Karoland. The negeri and village heads were arrested on 7 March, but soon released after promising to bow to a more formal expression of the people's will.17 The political elite in the Tapanuli government and K N I responded by speeding arrangements for elections of headmen, insisting that their social revolution was being conducted 'in an orderly fashion'. 18 Unsatisfied, the Tapanuli PESINDO staged a coup against this elite on 23 April, arresting forty-four officials and party leaders including the K N I chairman. The imprisoned officials were released by the army two weeks later and it was the turn of the PESINDO leader to be arrested on 13 May, marking the defeat of the 'social revolution' in Tapanuli. 19 Meanwhile the East Sumatran revolution had again spilled into parts of Tapanuli. On 29 April four truckloads of armed Karo and Acehnese pemuda descended on the remote Sidikalang area, where Karo, Acehnese, and Toba settlers had long jostled each other and the original DairiBatak population. The pemuda appear to have been sent by Persatuan Perjuangan leaders in Medan to overthrow some wealthy or autocratic officials. Their revolutionary motives were perceived as a challenge to Toba official control of Sidikalang, however, and a small civil war developed in May. T h e Toba settlers initially fled from the troubled area en masse, but the intervention of the Tapanuli T R I division tipped the scales against the Karo. When peace was finally restored on 14 June at a ceremony attended by Governor Hasan and two Residents, 700 Karo captives were released. The toll of dead was put at 300. 20 Despite the apparent defeat of 'social revolution' in Tapanuli, the turmoil had been sufficient to undermine the attractiveness of official position in the countryside—particularly in Samosir which experienced a second 'invasion' of East Sumatran revolutionaries in May. The village and negeri heads resigned in early May and many refused to be reelected under any circumstances. 21 Elections were eventually organized to fill the gap, but it was widely recognized that the post-revolutionary office-holders lacked the status of their predecessors, since they appeared to draw their authority from electoral whim rather than immutable adat.22 The Tapanuli establishment had more success than its East Sumatran counterpart in portraying the 'social revolution' as externally-inspired •and artificial. T h e dangers of spontaneous revolution in a multi-ethnic rural society therefore emerge in clearer profile—both in the bitter ethnic clashes of Sidikalang and the undermining of the self-regulating autonomy of the traditional village. The complexity of East Sumatra makes a balance much more difficult to draw. For one thing, village and re-

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gional autonomy had already been so undermined by the estates and the money economy that the revolution may simply have represented an overdue acknowledgement of control from above. The lack of direction in East Sumatra following the 'social revolution' did however provide ample opportunity for social disintegration and for clashes of an increasingly ethnic character. When the revolutionary tide had turned in April 1946, it had left a very tangled pile of driftwood on the beach. The central government appeared to have made its choice to retain a weak but conservative governor. The major figures of both the government and the revolutionary parties had been compromised and discredited. Power tended to devolve to younger men in immediate control of armed pasukan, who could bring pressure to bear on government when required. The P K I was not well prepared to compete in this field. A non-political outsider was named in July 1946 to replace the corrupt communist Resident of East Sumatra, Luat Siregar, reportedly after a Muslim pasukan-leader had waved his pistol in front of Governor Hasan. The rising influence of the PNI's Saleh Oemar, one of the few political leaders to retain an austere 'revolutionary' life-style, was marked by his appointment as deputy Resident. 23 The enormous booty of the 'social revolution' had wrought havoc with many revolutionary reputations and sown suspicion among rival pasukan and barisan. The political and military leaders who now enjoyed the houses and cars of the overthrown rulers, and in some cases amassed large bank accounts in Singapore, became contemptuously known as the 'new rich* or the 'new feudals'. Membership of many pasukan began to be seen as a short cut to the good life rather than an act of patriotic heroism. 24 By contrast the living conditions of the bulk of plantation labourers and peasants deteriorated steadily after the momentary improvement of late 1945, accentuating their bitterness and cynicism towards leadership of any kind. In an unusually frank attack of February 1947, Saleh Oemar somewhat unfairly laid the blame at the door of Governor Hasan: How much rice has never been paid for in cloth or money ? . . . Ask the peasants themselves. How many government promises have not been fulfilled ? . . . Shall we draw up a balance sheet. Whose children are offering their lives, spilling their blood, offering sacrifices on every front? Enough, Governor; Enough!25 This mood of hostility towards leadership old or new brought about a diffusion of power among pasukan leaders—pemuda in their twenties or early thirties. They had been able to fight the Dutch come-back with remarkable unity of purpose in 1945, but there was insufficient

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action to retain it through 1946 and 1947. Clashes frequently arose out of personal rivalries, injured pride, and the contest for vital resources. The more serious skirmishes developed into wider feuds, pitting PESINDO against the T R I (in Binjai and Serdang in August 1946); NAPINDO against the T R I (Serdang in early 1947); NAPINDO against PESINDO (Asahan and Serdang, early 1947), or Toba Batak units against the rest. 20 The most disturbing incident was the so-called 'Logam affair' of March 1947 in Pematang Siantar, the seat of the Sumatran government. Evidence of corruption against nine Sumatran military and civilian leaders, including T R I Colonels Tahir and Soetjipto, was the pretext for a virtual Toba Batak takeover of the city. Batak units from the former Pasukan V and from Logam's Cap Rante, at opposite ideological extremes in early 1946, now acted in concert. The nine accused were arrested, judged guilty, but then again released after the arrival of an Acehnese battalion gave Governor. Hasan greater leverage, at the cost of continued ethnic mistrust. 27 Revolutionary East Sumatra had become almost ungovernable. With feuding young warlords everywhere and 'deterioration in every field'28 it was hardly an advertisement for the Republic. All forces could unite behind the ideal of complete independence and the remote Republican government in Yogyakarta, but not behind its local representatives. The ideals were rescued from the realities by the Dutch attack of 21 July 1947. Hemmed inside their economically untenable urban enclaves, and frustrated at the inconclusiveness of negotiations, Dutch policy-makers had fallen victim to the illusion that the Republic would collapse under the first military blows. East Sumatra was a prime target for what they euphemistically called a 'police action', since it offered both economic support from the estates and political support from the victims of the 'social revolution'. Before a cease-fire was accepted on 4 August Dutch troops had occupied all the major towns from Tanjung Pura in the north to Tanjung Balai in the south. T h e Republican forces presented little open resistance, directing their attention to preparing a guerrilla struggle and to so-called 'scorched-earth' tactics which involved the destruction of the Chinese quarter of one town after another. The Dutch action restored the unity of purpose of Republicans in East Sumatra. The most irresponsible units fled to Tapanuli and South Asahan where their internecine feuds continued on different soil. Within the occupied area the real enemy had returned and with it the cause of liberation. The Dutch faced tougher guerrilla opposition in the month after the cease-fire than before it, and dozens of prominent collaborators were killed in the same period. 29 Very few leading Republicans ac-

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cepted Dutch invitations to co-operate. The Dutch-backed counterrevolution had to rely on the conservative aristocrats against whom the 'social revolution' had been directed. It was the great moment for the westernized Malay elite who had formed the Persatuan Sumatera Timur in 1938 and inspired various subsequent attempts to resist the advances of the pergerakan. Embittered by the 'social revolution', they were now determined to reassert Malay and Simalungun ethnic interests through Dutch support. A committee was immediately formed to demand autonomy for East Sumatra, outside the Republic, and this gradually expanded to become the provisional council of the Dutch-supported State of East Sumatra (NST). Twelve of the original committee members were Malay or Simalungun aristocrats who had lost many relatives in the 'social revolution'. The thirteenth was the pre-'social revolution' administrator of Karoland, Ngeradjai Meliala. The committee's manifesto denounced the way in which after the 'social revolution', 'All representatives of the autochthonous population were systematically removed from leading positions. In the Malay part of this province there was not one important government official of Malay origin.' 30 The situation was reversed in the state of East Sumatra, with Dr Tengku Mansur as head of state. The N S T survived longer than most of the Dutch-supported federal states, from January 1948 to August 1950. Its only substantial popular backing came however from the minority Malay and Simalungun communities, despite constant Dutch pressure to include 'moderate' Javanese and Toba Bataks, or even Karos, in its leadership. It was the educated Malay aristocrats of N S T themselves who turned their backs on any attempt to legitimize their regime at the polls. 31 Despite the propaganda value of denouncing the 'social revolution', the N S T showed remarkably little interest in restoring the overthrown monarchs of East Sumatra. A decision on the status of the rajas was officially postponed until the people had expressed themselves in an election. The election was never held, and the N S T council continued to exercise all former kerajaan powers. 32 Death and defection had made it easier for the Dutch to repudiate their treaty obligations, and the Malay elite their celebrated loyalty. T h e old sultans of Deli, Serdang, and Langkat had all died in the period 1945-8, while the Sultan of Kualuh had been killed and Siak had become the 'revolutionary sultan'. T h e young and easy-going Sultan of Asahan was the only Long Contract ruler to survive from his pre-war time of splendour. It fell to the outspokenly pro-Dutch Sultan Osman of Deli, enthroned in 1945, to lead the demand for royal rights. He took his case to Batavia, to Malaya, and finally to Queen Juliana in Holland, yet it fell on deaf ears. Dutch

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federal strategy had made generous provision for the petty kingdoms of Borneo and eastern Indonesia, but there was to be no place for the once opulent sultans of Sumatra. We have seen how impatient Dutch officials were already growing in the 1930s of the indulgent Malay autocracy on which they had once relied. Even before the war the kerajaan had ceased to be credible as a system of government for such an important and complex part of the empire, and was valued primarily as a counterweight to nationalism. Japanese and revolutionary assaults had severely damaged the rulers' remaining mystique. Dutch calculations in 1947 were that the rajas were a liability in the quest for a progressive, popular image for the N S T . Dr Mansur's educated Malay colleagues of the P S T / N S T were in a still more ambiguous position, analogous to that being faced by Dato Onn at the same period in Malaya. T h e sultans had proved unworthy. Their outrageous pretensions and arbitrary behaviour were difficult for these Dutch-educated aristocrats either to appreciate or to defend. They seemed now to be saying what they had been unable to say in 1938, that Malay interests would be better served by a modern leadership defined by education rather than by birth alone. T h e N S T leaders resolved this dilemma in a different way from their Malayan counterparts, by cautiously jettisoning the sultans. They thereby revealed the nakedness of their own position. In a contest for electoral following, charismatic gifts, or even modern education, Dr Mansur and his colleagues could not match their Republican rivals. Their Malay and Simalungun supporters were heavily outnumbered by groups to whom they had minimal appeal. Some N S T leaders would have liked to solve this problem, as they had in the P S T of 1938, by an electoral procedure which excluded 'non-autochthonous' ethnic groups. This was anathema to the Dutch, playing for higher Indonesia-wide stakes, as it was for the Republic. T h e Dutch had hoped the N S T would present an orderly, progressive, and perhaps even democratic alternative to the Republic; their East Sumatran allies saw it above all as a bulwark for their own ethnic interests. I n post-war Malaya there had also been western-educated aristocrats who believed their sultans had so outrageously betrayed Malay interests that they must be removed. More adept politicians had however been able to devise a means to mobilize the charisma of the sultans while transferring effective power to more modern men. In this way Dato Onn bin Ja'afar had been able not only to defeat British schemes for Malayan Union, but also to fashion in UMNO one of South-East Asia's most effective political parties, linking westernized aristocratic leadership with mass peasant support. 33 T h e obstacles to D r Mansur's following a similar course were ad-

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THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE

mittedly overwhelming. The Indonesian pergerakan, with its strong Islamic modernist component, was a more formidable opponent than the divided, predominantly Chinese, Malayan Left. Moreover the Malayan sultans had been better prepared for a role as constitutional monarchs by the British Resident system; their prestige had not been sapped by such flamboyant excesses in the 1930s nor by such humiliation at the hands of the revolution. These differences made it virtually certain that a modern Indonesia of any colour would find no place for Malay monarchy. Nevertheless, at the ending of the Muslim fast in 1948 the Sultan of Deli received crowds of well-wishers, while the head of the NST, Dr Mansur, received very few. Even such staunch Republicans as Adinegoro expressed the view that a restoration of the kerajaan would have been preferable to the NST. 34 For all their faults, the sultans represented continuity, charisma, and a symbolic device which could have been used (though it seldom was) to transcend ethnic and factional politics. The rulers had competed on the same symbolic and mystical level occupied by the new Republic itself—and they had lost. The defeat of the rajas in 1946 proved to be a permanent break with the East Sumatran past. Local Republican leaders had proved unable to govern East Sumatra effectively. So did the NST, which began to disintegrate as soon as the promise of Dutch military support was withdrawn. The divided allegiances of this complex region could achieve no balance except within a broader context. East Sumatra had been one of the crucibles of Indonesian nationalism, and Indonesian nationalism had eventually to reclaim it. In 1950 it was merged with Tapanuli in a larger province of North Sumatra, where it has remained. Aceh too was thrust unwillingly into the larger province, but did not stay there long. Once again diplomacy failed to bridge the gap between Jakarta and Aceh. Once again Aceh had to be conquered by force, its revolutionary dynamic counted as a millstone rather than a motor to modernization. Troops of the Indonesian Republic ensured the eventual reintegration of Aceh as a 'special region' of Indonesia in 1959, though on a less enthusiastic popular basis than in 1945. This study has outlined the path of a number of Sumatran societies into the modern world through a major revolutionary upheaval. Revolution affected each society differently, though its overall effect may be dimly discerned by analogy with non-revolutionary Malaya/Malaysia. Any such comparison must be intensely cautious, bearing in mind that we are too close to the revolution to understand its fundamental social significance. As a reading of Barrington Moore's Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy quickly shows, what appears to be gain in one period may seem a loss in the next; an opportunity seized by one genera-

*

PRINCES, POLITICIANS, AND PEASANTS

263

tion may loom as an obstacle to its successor. Our Sumatran societies all broke more sharply with their past than did Malaya. Traditional restraint and enforced respect gave way before the astonishing new confidence of youth. Ancient, privileged dynasties were torn down, regional particularities glossed over, old loyalties swept away. The way to the future was sought through heroic myths of unity and struggle rather than through the channelling of traditional group loyalties. Many of the new forces unleashed by the revolution were difficult for a large new multi-ethnic state to absorb. Sumatra became harder to govern than Malaya, with more frequent resort to force at the local level, until direction passed altogether to the military whose specialization it was. Revolutionary idealism turned sour or was exchanged for a safer path of accommodation. One ideal remains formidable—that of an independent, united Indonesia, master of its own destiny.

1. Mochtar Lubis, A Road with no End, trans. A. H. Johns (London, 1968), p . 97. 2. Barrington Moore, Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy: Lord and Peasant in the Making of the Modern World (London, Penguin, 1973), pp. 380-2. C. M. Elliott, 'Decline of a Patrimonial Regime: T h e Telengana Rebellion in India, 1946-51', JAS, 34, Part 1 (November 1974), pp. 27-47. 3. Osman Raliby, Repoloesi Perantjis, advertised in Soeloeh Merdeka, 15 March 1946. See also Revolusi Desember '45 di Atjeh, and Mohammad Said,' What was the "Social Revolution of 1946" ', Indonesia, 15, p . 174. 4. Abdullah Arif, Seumangat Atjeh, 5 (Kutaraja, n.d.). 5. Crane Brinton, The Anatomy of Revolution, pp. 265-7. 6. M r Hermani, on his return from touring Sumatra, in Merdeka, 1 June 1946. 7. Mutyara in Semangat Merdeka, 21 September 1947, cited in Overzicht Noord-Sumatra, 16 September-15 October 1947, Bi.Z. 21/2. 8. Overzicht Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 September 1946, pp. 8-9 and 1-15 May 1947, p. 10; Bi.Z. 21/2 and 21/3 respectively. 9. Muhammad Radjab, Tjatatan di Sumatera (Jakarta, 1949), pp. 47-50. 10. Overzicht Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 July 1946, pp. 2-3, Bi.Z. 21/2. 11. Hans Post, Bandjir over Noord-Sumatra, Deel I I I : Bedwongen Bandjir (Medan, 1948), p. 41. See also Masri Singarimbun, Kinship, Descent, and Alliance among the Karo Batak (Berkeley, California, 1975), pp. 28-9. 12. Muhammad Radjab, Tjatatan, p. 24. 13. Masri Singarimbun, pp. 11-12. D. H. Penny and Masri Singarimbun, 'Economic Activity among the Karo Batak of Indonesia', Bulletin of Indonesian Economic Studies, 6 (1967), pp. 31-65. 14. Security Council Records 1947, Special Supplement 4, Report of the Con-

264

THE BLOOD OF THE PEOPLE sular Commission, 22 October 1947, p . 58. Machmud report on Japanese in Sumatra, 1948, p. 12, CMI Document 5590 in ARA Archief Algemene Secretarie 368. Rapport Recomba Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 September 1947, pp. 1-6, Bi.Z. 21/4. Interviews.

15. Republik Indonesia. Propinsi Sumatera Utara, pp. 344-5. Masri Singarimbun, pp. 28-9. 16. Interviews. R. W. Liddle, Ethnicity, Party, and National Integration, pp. 78-92, 98-120 and 190-9. 17. Soeloeh Merdeka, 8 March 1946. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 March 1946, pp. 14-15, Bi.Z. 21/1. 18. Soeloeh Merdeka, 14 March 1946. Also Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 16-31 March 1946, pp. 16 and 18, Bi.Z. 21/1. 19. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 16-30 April 1946, pp. 12-14, and 1-15 May 1946, p. 12 and appendix, Bi.Z. 21/1. M. Kadiran, Perdjuangan Corps Mobil Brigade (typescript, n.d.), pp. 12-13. 20. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 and 16-31 May 1946, pp. 11 and 11-14 respectively, Bi.Z. 21/1. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 and 16-30 June, pp. 10-11 and 14-15 respectively, Bi.Z. 21/2. M. Kadiran, pp. 11-12. N.I.B. IV, p. 398. Interviews. 21. Verslag Noord-Sumatra, 16-31 May 1946, p. 14 and 1-15 June 1946, pp. 12-13; Bi.Z. 21/1 and 21/2 respectively. 22. Edward M. Bruner, in Local, Ethnic and National Loyalties in Village Indonesia, ed. G. W. Skinner (New Haven, 1959), p. 60. Lance Castles, 'Internecine Conflict in Tapanuli', RIMA, 8, no. 1 (January-June 1974), pp. 75-6. 23. Overzicht Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 July, pp. 7-8; 16-31 July, p. 3; and 16 September-15 October 1946, pp. 2 - 3 ; Bi.Z. 21/2. N.I.B. IV, p. 397. Interviews. Republican investigations in Singapore in 1947 had shown Luat Siregar and Juned Ali to have a balance of Straits $1,761,000 with the Bank of India in Singapore; 'Korte levensbeschrijving van Mr Luat Siregar', in ARA Archief Procureur-Generaal, no. 627. 24. See especially Muhammad Radjab, Tjatatan, pp. 18-35; Iman Marah 1947 typescript, pp. 7-9; Dr A. K. Gani to M r Utoyo, 7 October 1947, CMI Document 5504 in ARA Archief Algemene Secretarie no. 365-7. 25. Cited from Soeara Oemoem, 7-12 February 1947, in Iman Marah, p. 14. 26. Iman Marah, pp. 9-20, describes these incidents in some detail. 27. Ibid., pp. 15-17. Overzicht Noord-Sumatra, 1-15 and 16-31 March 1947, pp. 3 and 3-5 respectively; 1-15 and 16-31 May 1947, pp. 1-3 and 2-3 respectively: Bi.Z. 21/3. 28. Muhammad Radjab, Tjatatan, p. 30. 29. Hans Post, Bedwongen Bandjir, pp. 20-46 and 106—11. Rapport Recomba Noord-Sumatra (Van de Velde), August 1947 and 1st half September 1947, Bi.Z. 21/4. For the transfer of East Sumatran feuds to Tapanuli see Castles, 'Internecine conflict', pp. 76-80. 30. Address by Committee for a Daerah Istimewa Sumatera Timur, 17 August 1947, in ANP Aneta, I.D.D. 1947, 18 August 1947, pp. 364-5. Also Negara

PRINCES, POLITICIANS, AND PEASANTS

265

Soematera Timoer Sepintas Laloe (Medan, 1948), p. 4. 31. Dutch alarm at this defensive trend is evident in Van de Velde to Van Mook, 27 February 1948, Bi.Z. 22/6. 32. N.S.T.

Sepintas Laloe, p. 13.

33. See especially James de V. Allen, The Malayan Union (New Haven, Yale S.E. Asia monograph, 1967), pp. 33-6, 41-2, and 66-9. 34. Van de Velde to Beel, 18 December 1948, Bi.Z. 22/6.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

A NOTE

ON

SOURCES

ANY study which attempts to do justice to the 'three periods' of modern Indonesian history must be prepared to shop widely for sources. For the Dutch colonial period there are admirable archives and good collections of Indonesian newspapers. Dutch and British archives also provide intelligence reports for the Japanese and revolutionary periods, but they are disappointingly blind to the most vital revolutionary developments. Few Japanese documents of substance have yet come to light in the archives of the Self-Defence Agency in Tokyo beyond those already published (below under Benda and Reid). For these periods one must rely mainly on such newspaper collections as exist (often in private hands) and on the written or verbal recollections of participants. Fortunately an increasing number of Indonesian and Japanese participants in these events have written memoirs or histories, most of them available only in stencil or typescript. My own interviews ranged more widely but seldom as deeply. A list of those interviewed is included with the acknowledgements at the beginning of this book, where it belongs. ARCHIVAL

SOURCES

1. Ministerie van Binnenlandse Zaken (Bi.Z.), The Hague. The colonial archive of the Ministry of Internal Affairs now houses most of the twentieth-century Netherlands Indian despatches sent to Holland. The holdings fall into two basic categories: A: Pre-war Despatches (mailrapporten) from Batavia to The Hague, enclosing a great variety of local reports and correspondence. The two most important single categories for this study were i) the Memories van Overgave (MvO) written by each Governor (after 1938 Resident) of Aceh and East Sumatra at the end of his term; and ii) the periodic police reports (Politiek Verslag) on political developments in each of these provinces. B: Post-war reportage on Indonesian political developments. The file consulted (22/1 to 22/6) was primarily in the form of halfmonthly intelligence reports on northern Sumatra, drawn up in Medan. It covered the period December 1945-December 1948.

270

BIBLIOGRAPHY

2. Rijksinstituut voor de Tropen, Amsterdam. The library of this Institute houses many Memories van Overgave of Dutch Assistant-Residents and Controleurs in typescript. Unfortunately those sections dealing with 'polities', including any negative comments on the rajas, have been cut out. 3. Rijksinstituut voor Oorlogsdocumentatie (RvO), Amsterdam. The IndischeCollectie (I.C.) of this Institute possesses numerous documents on the Japanese occupation, the most valuable being interrogations of Japanese officers after the war. 4. Algemeen Rijksarchief (ARA), The Hague. In 1949 some records of the Algemene Secretarie and the ProcureurGeneraal's Department in Batavia, for the period 1946-9, were shipped to Holland and are housed separately from the Despatches originally destined for The Hague (see above). 5. Public Record Office, London. The records of the British War Office (WO) include material on both Allied planning for Sumatra during the war, and the Allied Military Administration of Sumatra in 1945-6.

INDONESIAN

NEWSPAPERS

AND

JOURNALS

The best collection is in the Library of the Museum, Jakarta, though even this is patchy before 1941 and wholly inadequate thereafter. Some Dutch libraries have spasmodic runs, and there are various private collections. The dates given below are those for which the periodical was consulted. Aneka Minggu (2x week, Medan), 1970. Asia Raya (daily, Jakarta), 2602-3 [1942-3]. Atjeh Sinbun (2x, later 3x or 5x week, Kutaraja), 2603-5 [1943-5]. Benih Merdeka (daily, Medan), 1918-19. Gema Bukit Barisan (monthly, Medan), 1970-1. Hindia Sepakat (Sibolga), 1920-1. Kita-Sumatora-Sinbun [K-S-S] (daily, Medan), 2603-5 [1943-5]. Merdeka (daily, Jakarta), 1946 and 1972. Overzicht van de Inlandsche en Maleisch-Chineesche Pers (monthly, Jakarta), 1930-41. Pandji Islam (weekly, Medan), 1939-42. Penjedar (weekly, Medan), 1938-41. Penjoeloeh (monthly, Bireuen/Medan), 1940-1. Pewarta Deli (daily, Medan), 1945. Semangat Merdeka (daily, Kutaraja), 1945-6.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

271

Seruan Kita (weekly, Medan), 1939-40. Sinar (weekly, Medan), 1940. Sinar Darrussalam (monthly, Kutaraja), 1968-74. Soeara Atjeh (monthly, Sigli), 1930. Soeloeh Merdeka (daily, Medan), 1945-6. Soematera-Timoer (Medan), 1939. Sumatra Sinbun (daily, Medan) 2602-3 [1942-3]. TYPESCRIPT

AND

STENCILLED

RECOLLECTIONS

Achie no Minzoku-undo. Mimeograph (Kyoto?), 1955. A typescript English summary is also held by the Wason collection of Cornell University. BASRIE, HASAN, Tentang pimpinan dan struktur pemerintahan di Sumatera-Timur pada awal tahun 1946. PRIMA typescript, Medan, n.d. DJAMIL, JOENOES, Riwajat Barisan ' F ' (Fudjiwara Kikan) di Atjeh. Stencil issued by PLPIS, Banda Aceh, 1975, from 1943 original. DJUSNI, M . K., Selajang pandang kenang-kenangan repolusi di Kota Medan. PRIMA typescript, Medan, n.d. General Agricultural Condition of Simeloengoen, The. Pematang Siantar, stencil issued by Gunseibu-Kezaibu, 2602 [1942]. KADIRAN, M., Perdjuangan Corps Mobile Brigade. Typescript, n.d. LUBIS, M. SJARIF, Mengenang perlawanan rakjat di Tanah Karo pada permulaan revolusi pisik. PRIMA typescript, Medan, n.d. MAEDA, Memoir Maeda Chui. Typescript, n.d. MARAH, IMAN, Untitled typescript describing internecine conflict in East Sumatra, 'probably' by PESiNDO-leader Iman Marah. Bukittinggi, December 1947. Held as CMI document 5331 in ARA Archief Procureur-Generaal, no. 627. POLIM, T . M. A. PANGLIMA, Memoir (Tjatatan). Stencil, Kutaraja, 1972. PRIMA [Pejuang Republik Indonesia Medan Area], Arsip Sedjarah. 2 vols., Medan, 1972. Kisah tahun pertama di Kota Medan, n.d. Pembunuhan massal di Tebing Tinggi, n.d. SIEGEL, JAMES, Typescript notes of interviews with Husein Sab, Hasballah Daud, and Ismail Jakoeb. SINAR, TENGKU LUCKMAN, Revolusi Sosial di Deli. Typescript, Medan [1972?]. Suatu Tengah Malam Berdarah, dimana dinasti2 berguguran. Typescript, Medan [1973]. SOEYATNO, Sejarah sosial masyarakat Sibreh Aceh Besar. PLPIS typescript, Banda Aceh, 1974.

AOKI EIGORO,

272

BIBLIOGRAPHY

USHIYAMA MITSUO,

Hokubu Sumatora Shusen Noki. Mimeograph, n.d. UNPUBLISHED

THESES

T h e Political Life of a Sumatran Residency: Tapanuli 1915-1940. Ph.D., Yale, 1972. LANGENBERG, MICHAEL VAN, National Revolution in North Sumatra. Sumatra Timur and Tapanuli 1942-1950. Ph.D., Sydney, 1976. [Unfortunately available only after this study was complete.] SHIRAISHI SAYA, Aceh under the Japanese Occupation—rival leaders in Aceh Besar and Pidie. M.A., International Christian University, 1975. SJAMSUDDIN, NAZARUDDIN, T h e Course of the National Revolution in Aceh, 1945-1949. M.A., Monash, 1974. CASTLES, LANCE,

MAJOR

PUBLISHED

SOURCES

\ Abad Al-Djamijatul Washlijah. Medan, 1955. ALERS, H. J., Om een rode of groene merdeka: io jar en binnenlandse politiek Indonesia, ig4JSJ. Eindhoven, Vulkaan, 1956. ALFIAN, TEUKU IBRAHIM, 'Sebuah studi pendahuluan tentang kontak kebudajaan di Atjeh pada awal abad XX', Kirsada (Yogyakarta) no. 1 (1969), pp. 119-28. [Amin, S. M.], Atjeh Sepintas Lalu, by 'Insider'. Jakarta, Archapada, 1950. Amin, S. M., Sekitar Peristiwa Berdarah di Atjeh. Jakarta, Soeroengan, 1956. AMIR, D R M., Boenga Rampai. Medan, 1940. Melawat ke Djawa. Medan, 1946. ANDERSON, BENEDICT R. O'G., Java, in a Time of Revolution, Occupation and Resistance, ig44~ig46. Ithaca, Cornell, 1972. ARIF, ABDULLAH, Disekitar Peristiwa Pengchianat Tjoembok. Kutaraja, 1946. Translated and edited by Anthony Reid as 'The Affair of the Tjoembok Traitors', RIMA 4/5 (1970/71), pp. 36-57. AZIDDIN, TENGKU JOESOEF, Revolutie antie Sociaal. Tanjung Balai, 1948. BARTLETT, H. H., The Labors of the Datoe. Michigan Papers on South and Southeast Asia, no. 5. Ann Arbor, 1973. BENDA, H. J., J. K. IRIKURA and K. KISHI (eds.), Japanese Military

Ad-

ministration in Indonesia: Selected Documents. New Haven, Yale Southeast Asia Studies Program, 1965. - BRANDT, W I L L E M [pseud, of Wm. B. Klooster], De gele terreur. 's-Gravenhage, Van Hoeve, 1946. De aarde van Deli. 's-Gravenhage, Van Hoeve, 1948.

BIBLIOGRAPHY BROERSMA,

273

R., Atjeh, als land voor handel en bedrijf. Utrecht, Cohen,

1926. E., 'Urbanisation and Ethnic Identity in North Sumatra', American Anthropologist 63 (1961), pp. 508-21. 'The Toba Batak Village', in Local, Ethnic and National Loyalties in Village Indonesia, ed. G. W. Skinner. New Haven, Yale Southeast Asia Studies, 1959, pp. 52-64. CASTLES, LANCE, 'Internecine Conflict in Tapanuli', RIMA 8, no. 2 (1974), pp. 73-80. CLERKX, L I L Y , Mensen in Deli. Amsterdam, Stencil, Sociologisch Seminarium voor Zuid-oost Azie, 1961. CROO, M . H. DU, Generaal Swart: Pacificator van Atjeh. Maastricht, Neiter-Nypels, 1943. CUNNINGHAM, CLARK E., The Postwar Migration of the Toba Bataks to East Sumatra. New Haven, Yale Southeast Asia Studies, 1958. DONNISON, F. S. V., British Military Administration in the Far East 1943194.6. London, H M S O , 1956. EDISAPUTRA, Gelora Kemerdekaan sepandjang Bukit Barisan. Medan, Sejarah Militair T N I Divisi Bukit Barisan, 1972. ENCYCLOPAEDISCH BUREAU, Oostkust van Sumatra. 2 vols., Weltevreden, 1918-19. FEITH, HERBERT, and LANCE CASTLES (eds.), Indonesian Political Thinking, 1945-1965. Ithaca, Cornell University Press, 1970. FUJIWARA IWAICHI, F-Kikan. Tokyo, Hara Shobo, 1966. GHOSH, K. K., The Indian National Army: Second Front of the Indian Independence Movement. Meerut, Meenakshi Prakashan, 1969. HAMERSTER, M., Bijdrage tot de kennis van de afdeeling Asahan. Amsterdam, Oostkust van Sumatra Instituut, 1926. BRUNER,

HAMKA [ H A J I ABDUL MALIK KARIM AMRULLAH], Merantau

ke Deli.

3rd ed., Jakarta, 1966. Kenang-kenangan hidup. 2nd ed., Kuala Lumpur, Pustaka Antara, 1966. HASJMY, A L I , Hikajat Prang Sabi mendjiwaiperang Atjeh lawan Belanda. Banda Atjeh, Pustaka Faraby, 1971. HELFRICH, CONRAD E. L., Memoires. 2 vols., Amsterdam, Elsevier, 1950. HUSSAIN, ABDULLAH, Terjebak. Kuala Lumpur, Pustaka Antara, 1965. Peristiwa. Kuala Lumpur, Pustaka Antara, 1965. Indonesia, Djabatan Penerangan Atjeh, Revolusi Desember '45 di Atjeh atau Pembasmian Pengchianat Tanah Air. Kutaraja, 1946. Indonesia, Djabatan Penerangan Propinsi Tapanuli/Sumatera Timur, Perdjuangan Rakjat. Medan, 1950. Indonesia, Dokumentasi Komite Musjawarah Angkatan 45, Daerah Istimewa Atjeh, Modal Revolusi '45. Kutaraja, 1960.

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INDEX

References in bold type are to more extensive biographical data. ABBAS, M R ABDUL, 139,

141

Abu Bakar, Said, xii, 85, 86-8, 89, 90, 94, 95, lOOn.10, 101n.21, 102n. 42, 113, 118, 127-8, 129-30, 134, 146n.69, 209 Aceh, 4-5, 7-37, 85, 87-90, 94-6, 106-30, 134-9, 141, 185-211, 2545 Aceh Besar (Aceh Proper), 7, 25, 29, 34n.45, 37n.84, 87-8, 90, 100n.l5, 137, 205, 206-7, 209-10 Aceh-Dutch War (1873-1913), 4-5, 7-10, 31n.4, 98n.l5, 109, 190 Acehnese, in East Sumatra, 43, 176, 225, 257, 259; in Malaya, 9, 85-7 Adachi Takashi, Captain, xiii, 127, 185-6, 207, 211n.4 Adinegoro, Djamaluddin, 59, 67, 79n.68, 93, 108, 109, 114, 135, 139-40, 144n.46, 178n.l3, 218, 262 Ahmad, Djohan, 28, 214n.53 Ahmadiah Movement, 23, 64 Aken, A. Ph. van, Governor of Aceh, 1932-1936: quoted, 8, 13, 14, 18 Alamsjah, Sultan Noer, 66, 228 Allied Forces, 115-16, 132-3, 135, 149-52, 187-8, 191-2; pro-Allied activity, 127, 132, 154-5, 196; see also British Almujahid, Teungku Amir Hoesain, xii, 26, 35n.67, 35n.69, 85, 95, 111, 134, 189, 192, 206, 207-10, 216n.89 Aly, Hasan, xii, 26, 28, 37n.83, 196, 198-9, 202, 205, 206, 214n.53 Ambonese, 151, 159-60, 191 Amelz, xiii, 37n.87, 108-9 Americans, 41-2, 116, 119, 134-5; in Sumatra, 38 Amin, Mr S. M., xiii, 205; quoted, 186, 211 Amin, T . M., xii, 25, 89, 95, 113, 134, 193 Amir, D r Mohammad, 75n.20, 79n.

68, 82n.l07, 102n.35, 109, 123, 136, 140-1,144-5n.46, 148,152-3, 159, 160, 211n.9; as Acting Governor of Sumatra, 218-19, 244-6, 229, 233-5, 237, 239-40, 244, 2456n.2, 246n.5, 247n.24, 249n.58, 250n.79,80&85, 251n.l08 Aoki Eigoro, xiii, 127-30, 185, 214n. 60 API, 188, 189 Arif, Teuku Njak, 19, 34n.45, 37n.84, 88-9, 90, 109-10, 114, 121, 135, 138, 139, 141, 186-7, 188-92, 194,197,199, 206, 209-10, 211n.9, 212n.25, 214n.59, 266 Aristocracy: Acehnese, see Uleebalang; Malay, 45-6, 51-3, 68-70, 5n.l8&20, 76n.38, 122, 232-3, 260-1; Simalungun, 53-4, 69, 260 Arms and ammunition, 153, 154-5, 165-9, 192-5, 196, 197-9, 201-4, 213n.38, 220, 247n.32 Arnhemia (Pancur Batu), 66, 72-3, 81n.96, 97-8 Aron movement (1942), 73, 83n.l20, 96-8, 107, 109, 123, 131, 164-5, 228; see also SETIA

Asahan, 2-3, 5n.3, 49-50, 51, 62, 69, 115, 117, 123, 133, 156, 170, 219, 221, 226, 229, 231-2, 239, 240, 248n.48, 259; Sultan of (Saiboen), 50, 69, 76n.34, 82n.l07, 107, 172, 229, 232, 260 As-Siddiqy, Teungku Mohammad Hasbi, xiii, 26, 113, 114, 130, 139, 209 Atjeh-moord (Acehnese murder), 11, 124 Atjeh Sinbun, 108, 127, 136, 137, 186, 187, 189; quoted, 128, 129, 130, 135 Azis, Tuanku Abdul, 110, 113, 138-9 BAHRIOEN, M R TENGKU, 69,

177

280

INDEX

Bakongan Revolt (1924-1927), 10, 20 Bambi (statelet in Pidie), 35n.60; Uleebalang of ( T . Muda Dalam), 32-3n.26, 35n.59 Bangun, Koda, 97, 123, 182n.87 Barisan Harimau Liar, 133, 175, 177,182n.87-8, 221, 229-31, 251n. 104, 256 Barisan Naga Terbang, 133, 175 Batubara, 49, 50, 236 Batu Karang, 58, 97, 182n.87 Bedagai, 76n.36, 144n.42 Bedjo, 182n.84 Belawan, 60, 124, 151, 158, 167, 168 Berdjoeang, 176, 222, 228 Beureu'eh, Teungku Mohammad Daud, xii, 23-4, 25, 26, 30, 37n.88, 89, 95, 101n.23, 113-14, 127, 130, 135, 138, 139, 190, 193, 197, 201-2, 203, 205, 210, 254-5; his son, see Daud, Hasballah Bilah, statelet in Labuhan Batu, 50, 142n.3, 222, 236 Binjai, 58, 66, 81n.96&98, 111, 158, 233, 235, 237, 239, 244, 259 Bireuen, 21, 25, 27, 36n.69, 36n.71, 137, 193, 201-3 Boedjang, Teuku Rhi, 17-19, 33n.39

Chinese, 4, 35n.67, 124, 159, 220; in East Sumatra, 38, 40-3, 47, 58, 62-3, 72, 75n.l6, 91, 101n.30, 162-3, 237, 259; in Aceh, 4, 6n.7, 35n.63, 126, 186, 192; guerrillas in Malaya, 116, 132, 154-5 Christianity, 50, 54-7, 68, 78n.60, 131, 25In. 104; see also Toba Batak Christison, Gen. Sir Philip, 156, 158, 167 Chuo Sangi In, xvii, 139-40 Churchill, Sir Winston, 116 Comite Indonesia, in 1942, 91-2, 120 Comite van Ontvangst, 150, 152, 230 Corruption, 13-14, 27-8, 33n.26, 45-6, 52, 73, 75n.l8, 125, 220, 238, 243, 245, 252, 258.9, 264n.23 Corvee labour Qierendienst): under Dutch, 9-10, 31n.7, 47, 53, 54, 72, 87; under Japanese, 117, 120, 125-6, 137 Cumbok: Uleebalang of (T. Mohammad Daud), 192, 195-6, 200-4, 205, 213n.46; 'Cumbok war', 200-5, 216n.84 Cunda, Teuku Ibrahim, 208; Uleebalang of Cunda, see Said

BOMPA, xiv, 122-4, 150, 152, 153-4,

DAUD, HASBALLAH, 193, 198, 201-2,

155, 156 BPI (Badan Pemuda Indonesia), 155-6, 163-5; in Aceh, 187-8, 189-90, 214n.53; see also P R I Brastagi, 158, 161-2, 167, 230, 239, 247n.37 British, 38, 119; wartime strategy, 115-16, 151; Military Administration of Sumatra, 151, 156-7, 158-61, 164, 167-70, 172, 177, 187, 191-2, 207, 224, 241-2, 244, 250n.79&81; clashes with Indonesians, 166-8, 241-2, 251n.96 Brondgeest, Lt. C. A. M., 151-2, 157, 160-1, 178n.8, 181n.66 Bukittinggi: education in, 2 1 , 34n. 45&50, 181n.74; as 25th Army HQ, 104-5, 115, 118, 127-8, 135-7, 138-41; M I T Conference, 176, 203, 230; Sumatra K N I meeting, 240, 242, 243-4 Bustami, 154, 171, 227, 247n.32

207 Daudsjah, Teuku Chik Mohammad, 135, 206, 208, 216n.89, 266, 267 Deli, 3-4, 32n.l8, 38-40, 43-8, 60, 69, 70-3, 76n.36, 78n.66, 82n.ll2, 97-8, 131, 144n.42, 171-2, 219, 233, 235; Sultan of (Osman I), 144n.42; (Amaloedin), 45-6, 49, 72, 75n.l7, 123, 142n.47, 151, 157, 179n.30; (Osman II), see Otteman Democratization, 12, 28, 60, 206, 210-11, 218-19, 251n.97; of the kerajaan, 53, 219-20, 221-4, 230, 235-6 Dewantoro, Ki Hadjar, 77n.45 Digul, Boven, exile in, 6 0 - 1 , 66, 80n.74, 81n.93, 111, 139n.8 Djalil, Teungku Abdul, 112-13 Djamil, Datuk (Secretary to Sultan of Langkat), 158, 221, 239, 250n.80 Djamil, Teungku Joenoes, 101n.21, 113, 127-8, 130, 145n.59; quoted, 86, 95 Djojoadiningrat, Abdulmadjid, 242 Djoni, Mohammad, 61, 66-8, 72, 73, 81n.93

CHAMBERS, M A J . G E N . H . M., Allied

Commander in Sumatra, 160, 169, 224

281

INDEX

Dusun of Deli and Langkat, 3-4, 48-9, 72-3, 92, 96-8, 225 Dutch: in Sumatra, 9, 10, 38-40, 42-3, 150-2, 159-61, 191; policy (pre-war), 3-5, 7-9, 11-13, 15-16, 18-22, 26-31, 32n.l8, 40-8, 50-8, 1^60-3, 67-8, 70-2, 126, 253; (post- w a r ) , 151-2, 177, 187, 259-62 ECONOMIC CONDITIONS, 2 - 3 , 13-15,

31n.7, 41, 46, 51, 56, 71-3, 106, 124-6, 136-8, 244-5, 258 Economic policy: Dutch, 13-14, 40-2, 45-7, 51-2, 56, 70-2; Japanese, 124-6; Indonesian, 152, 210-11, 220-1, 227, 230, 237-8, 245 Education, 21-4, 34n.55, 63-4, 68, 74n.6, 255-6; Dutch-colonial, 17, 21-2, 56-7, 63; Japanese-sponsored, 116,117-19,131-2,146n.7.8, 153-4; see also Taman Siswa, M u hammadiah Egon, D., 154, 171, 174 ERRI (Ekonomi Rakyat Republik Indonesia), 227, 237-8, 241, 242, 244-5, 247n.32-3, 250n.73 Eteng, Abdullah, xii, 221, 236, 268 Ethnic conflict, 16, 50, 54-5, 68-9, 159-60, 163, 165, 231, 244, 256-7, 259, 260-1 Ezerman, H . E. K., Governor of East Sumatra, 1930-1933, 52-3 F-kikan, 85-90, 91-2, 94, 96-8, 107, 112, 118, 123, 134, 185, 198, 214n.60 Flag, Indonesian {merah-putih), 93, 136, 156-7, 172, 187-9, 195, 225 French, 6n.7, 38, 238; French Revolution, 225, 238, 253 Fujiwara Iwaichi, Major, xiii, 85-7, 90, 94, lOOn.10, 111, 127; quoted, 86, 87, 100n.l0; see also F-kikan GAHARU, SJAMMAUN, xii, 188, 189,

191-2, 199, 204, 209, 212n.l5; quoted, 187 Gani, D r A. K., 139-40, 152, 153, 172-3, 175, 178n.l3, 218 Garut, 27, 35n.60, 196, 198-9, 202, 203-4 GERINDO, 66-8, 69, 72-3, 81n.93-6,

83n.ll6, 85, 91-2, 96, 98, 122-3, 132-4, 139, 173-4, 182n.84&88

Ginting, Selamat, xii, 154-5, 162, 171, 174-5, 230 Ginting, Tama, 154, 226, 230 Ginting Suka, Nerus, 61, 91, 123, 175, 230 Ginting Suka, Nolong, 61, 230 Gintings, Djamin, 157 Giyugun, 118-20, 122, 123, 133, 138, 140, 178n.l8, 186, 193, 214n. 60, 216n.89; ex-Giyugun in revolution, 153-4, 161, 187-8, 194, 203, 232 Goedhart, O. M., Governor of Aceh, 1925-1929, 12, 26; quoted, 7, 12, 25, 27 Goh Moh Wan, 192 HAFAS, TENGKU, 110, 122,

142n.3,

144n.42, 170-1, 221, 224, 266 Hamid Azwar, Teuku Abdul (Samalanga), 119, 188, 199, 209 Hamidjoyo, Moenar S., 221, 268 Hamka (Haji Abdul Malik Karim Amrullah), 30, 93, 109, 110, 113, 114-15, 121, 130, 136, 142n.l2, 150-1; quoted, 30-1, 59, 91, 92, 112, 113, 121, 136-7 Hamzah, Tengku Amir, 142n.3, 170-1, 219, 221, 233, 239, 246n.9, 268 Harimau Liar, see Barisan Harimau Liar Hasan, T . A., 196 Hasan, Teuku Cut, 20, 30-1, 33n.51, 94, 198, 200, 205, 267 Hasan, M r Teuku Mohammad, xiii, 65, 87, 110, 122, 140-1, 144n.43; as Governor of Sumatra, 148, 1523, 156-7, 159, 160, 162, 165, 16972, 193, 198, 200, 206-7, 211n.9, 218, 220, 221-5, 227, 229, 233, 240-1, 242, 257, 258-9 Hasan, Teuku Mohammad, Uleebalang of Glumpang Payung, 20, 29, 33n.50, 94, 95-6, 113, 121, 126-7, 129, 145n.55 Hasbi, see As-Siddiqy Hashim, Tuanku, xii, 130 Hasjim, Mohammad, xiii, 142n.5 Hasjmy, Ali, xii, 25, 31n.9, 108-9, 187, 189, 193 Hasnan, Tengku, of Bilah, 142n.3, 232 Hatta, Mohammad, 61, 80n.83, 85, 148, 172, 174, 252

282

INDEX

Hayasaki (Japanese consul in Medan), 85, 93, 96, 102n.36, 108, 156 Heiho, 117, 122, 138, 140, 153, 161, 174, 186, 188 Helfrich, Admiral C. E. L., 151, 178n.8-9 Herendienst, see Corvee labour Hidajat, Dr, 249n.67 Hikayat Perang Sabil, 10, 31n.7, 31-2n.9, 111, 137, 198 Hoetasoit, Marnicus, xiii, 243, 251n. 104 Hokokai, xv, 219, 2 2 1 ; in Aceh, 138-9; Sumatra Hokokai, 140 Husain, Peutua, 28, 214n.53 Hussain, Abdullah, xv, 188, 208; quoted, 100n.l0, 107, 119 IBARAGI kikan,

134, 185-6

Ibrahim, Teungku Sjech, 23 Idi, 23, 26, 27, 35n.67, 36n.69, 36n.71, 79n.74, 85, 87, 100n.5, 111, 193, 208, 216n.89 Idris, Teuku Muhamad {guncho Bireuen, 1945), 193, 201-2, 213n. 38 Ie Leubeue, 24, 34n.60, 145n.56 lino Shazaburo (Chokan Aceh), 109-10, 113, 124, 127, 128, 130, 134, 188-9, 198; quoted, 132 Independence: Japanese policy towards, 93, 104, 120, 134-5, 138, 139-41; proclamation of, 148-50, 152-7, 186-9 Indians: in Sumatra, 35n.63, 40, 43, 162-3, 214n.60, 237; British Indian soldiers, 167, 180n.62 Indonesian (Malay) language, 50, 59, 65, 101n.26, 109, 152 Inoue Tetsuro, 98, 111, 123, 131-4, 143n.l6, 150, 155, 166, 174-5, 230-1; quoted, 131-2, 134 Intellectuals, 46, 62, 64-5, 65-6, 68-70, 109, 140-1, 175-6, 228, 230, 235 Ishizima Tadakazu, 185-6 Islam, 7-11, 22-7, 54, 86, 95, 112-15, 121, 128-31, 133-4, 146n.67-70, 176-7, 190, 197, 203-4, 236-7, 254; Islamic schools, 17, 21-4, 27, 29-30, 63-5, 201-2; Islamic reformism, 20, 23-7, 63-5, 237, 254; Islamic law, 13, 128-30, 146n.69; Islamization, 2, 49-50, 55; see also MASJUMI, M I T , M u -

hammadiah, PUSA, Wasliyah, Jihad Itam, Datuk (of Sunggal), 165, 233 Iwakuro, Maj. Gen., 127 JACOBS, MAJOR G. F., 151

Jacoeb, Teuku Muhamad (guncho Bireuen, 1943-1945), 137 Jafizham, Tengku (of Serdang), xii, 114, 176-7, 236-7 Jakarta, Independence preparation in, 140-1; Independence proclamation, 148, 150, 152, 153, 186 Jakoeb, Jahja (editor of Soeloeh Merdeka), 241 Jakoeb, Teungku Ismail, 25, 36n. 69-70, 37n.87, 109, 142n.9, 193, 213n.50 Jalan Bali affair, 148, 159-60, 161, 162-3, 179n.39 Jaluran, 47-8, 70-2 Jamiatul Diniyah, 23-4, 35n.58, 35n.67, 36n.75 Japanese: in Sumatra (pre-war), 49, 53, 77n.45, 93, 101n.26, 102n. 36; (post-war), 156-8, 167-9, 185-6, 188-95, 197-9, 207, 211n.4, 212n.33, 213n.38, 232; conquest, 84-6, 89-92; policy, 85-7, 92-9, 104-41, 148-51, 156, 185-6, 188, 193, 198, 252-3; surrender, 141, 148-51, 157, 185-7 Java, 16-17, 39, 42, 139, 142n.l2; education in, 21-3, 34n.45, 50&55, 63, 142n.7&8, 144n.43&46; Dutch policy for, 12; Japanese policy for, 104-5, 112, 118, 120, 124, 130,135,140-1; Republican movement in, 148, 153, 156, 160, 164, 166, 172-3, 190, 218-19, 225-6, 228, 242, 252-3 Javanese: in Aceh, 20, 22; in East Sumatra, 38, 40-3, 47, 54, 60, 63, 72, 75n.l6, 256, 260; Javanese principalities, 219, 223-4 Jeunieb (Samalanga, Aceh), 137; Uleebalang-cut of (Teuku Ahmad Jeunieb), 99n.4, 205, 267 Jihad (holy war), 5, 7-11, 176, 190, 197-8, 203-4, 214n.56, 254; see also Hikayat Perang Sabil Joenoes, Bachtiar, xii, 176-7, 227, 237, 247n.31 Joesoef, Amir, 227, 247n.32 Joesoef, M r Mohammad, 93, 108, 122, 142n.7, 150, 159, 169, 170-1,

283

INDEX

219, 228 Jusuf, Abdullah, xii, 133

50, 51, 52, 53, 56, 170 Kualuh, 50, 232, 260 Kuroiwa, 117, 194

KABANJAHE, 56, 66, 97, 106, 161-2

Kadhi, 64, 129, 146n.67, 206, 237 Kaijo Jikeidan, xvi, 132 Karoland (Tanah Karo), 46, 48, 55-8, 60-1, 70, 78n.55-64, 79n.72, 91-2, 97, 123, 154, 156, 164-5, 167, 170, 174-5, 182n.87, 226, 228-31, 235, 255-6; Karo Batak, 1-4, 5n.3, 38, 43, 46, 48-9, 55-8, 60, 66, 68-70, 72-3, 96-8, 116, 131, 133, 230, 255-6, 257, 260 Kartoprodjo, Sugondo, xii, 63, 66, 80n.83-4, 91-2, 102n.35, 155-6, 163 Kelly, Brig. Gen. T . E. D., 158, 160-1, 168, 169, 191 Kempen, C. J. van, Governor of East Sumatra, 1924-1928, 60-1, 62 Kenkokutai shintai, xvi, 133-4, 150, 153, 165, 182n.87-8, 228-9; exKenkokutai cadres in revolution, 174-5, 226, 231, 239 Kenpeitai, xvi, 91, 92, 95, 96, 111, 121, 126, 132, 154, 192 Kerajaan, xvi, 3-4, 32n.l8, 43-8, 51-3, 62-5, 92-4, 97-9, 106-7, 114-15, 121-4, 134, 141, 150, 157-8, 170-2, 219-20, 221-4, 228-33, 235-7 Keumala, Tuanku Raja, 24 Keumangan (statelet in Pidie), 23, 24, 27, 33n.30, 199, 203, 205; see also Oemar, Teuku Kisaran, 66, 229 Kita-Sumatora-Sinbun, 108-9, 139, 156; quoted, 117, 122-3 K N I , see Komite Nasional Indonesia Knottenbelt, Major M. J., 178n.9, 187, 188, 191-2, 212n.33 Koiso statement (7 September 1944), 104, 134-5, 216n.89 Komite Nasional Indonesia (KNI), 173, 176, 218-20, 221, 226, 227, 234-5; K N I East Sumatra, 152, 157, 176, 219, 239; K N I Medan, 219; K N I Aceh, 187, 189, 201, 203, 205; K N I Deli, 235; K N I Meulaboh, 206; K N I Sumatra, 240, 242-4; K N I Tapanuli, 257 Kondo Tsugio, xiii, 100-1, 132, 134, 185-6, 214n.60 Korte Verklaring, 32n.l8, 46, 49,

LABOUR,

38-43,

54,

60-1,

74n.6,

75n.l4&16, 79-80n.74, 124,125-6, 242, 245, 251n.97, 258; Labour Party, 176; see also Corvee labour Labuhan Batu, sub-district, 50, 142n.3, 232, 236, 249n.67 Lammeulo (Kota Bakti), 33n.32, 192, 195-6, 200-4, 206, 213n.46 Land and land-holding, 3-4, 13-15, 28, 33n.29, 42-3, 45-8, 53-4, 56-8, 70-3, 78n.64, 82-3, 83n. 116, 90, 92, 96-8, 107, 125, 210, 254 Langkat, 3, 35n.67, 43-8, 51-3, 61-2, 70-1, 82n.ll2, 142n.3, 144n.42, 156, 157-8, 170, 177, 219, 221-2, 226, 233, 235, 239, 240,250n.80-l, 256; Sultan of (Abdul Aziz), 35n.67, 75n.20; (Machmoed), 45-6, 49-52, 75n.20, 76n.29&36, 103n.63, 144-5n.46, 150-1, 219, 222, 233, 239, 260 Langsa, 20, 35n.67, 79n.74, 186, 187, 188, 207-8, 216n.89 Latif, Teuku Abdul, Uleebalang of Geudong, 17, 18, 267 Law-courts, 14, 28, 107, 110, 128-30, 190-1, 214n.53&60 Lhoknga, battle of, 193-4, 213n.43 Lhokseumawe, 17-20, 24, 79n.74, 91n.2, 112, 192-3, 202, 209, 210; Uleebalang of (T. Maharajah), 18 Lhoksukon, 18, 34n.43, 85 Lhong, 11, 137 Literature, 37n.87, 59, 74n.5, 81n.95, 109, 123, 142n.9, 144n.46, 219, 253 Local Government, 12-15, 32n.l8, 45-6, 48-51, 89-90, 93-5, 106-7, 141, 142n.3,169-71,190-1, 206-7, 218-21, 235-6, 253, 254-5, 257 Loebis, Abdoel Hamid, 61, 66, 81n.93 Logam, 244, 259; 'Logam affair', 259 Lubis, Adnan Nur, 66, 67, 122, 175, 221, 240, 268 Lubis, Marzuki, 154-5, 162, 171, 174, 182n.84, 247n.31, 248n.43 MAEDA, LIEUTENANT, 193, 212n.33,

284

INDEX

213n.38&40 Mahadi, M r Tengku, xii, 109, 123, 235 Mahmud, Tuanku, 28-9, 36-7n.80, 87, 110, 127, 138-9, 189, 194, 212n.25 Mahruzar, xii, 162, 180n.49, 220, 240, 247n.32, 266 MAIBKATRA, 113-14, 122, 127, 130,

138 Malaya, 1, 2, 9, 84, 85-7, 104, 1C7, 114-16, 151, 154; compared with Sumatra, 69, 261-2, 263 Malays, 5, 38, 44-53, 60, 62, 65, 68-70, 94, 97-8, 109, 122, 134, 165, 228, 233, 256, 260-2; population, 43, 46, 49; Malay culture, 1-3, 59, 63-4, 255; see also Sultans Manap, Abdul, 33n.37&39 Mandailings, 36n.69, 139; in East Sumatra, 43, 55, 59, 61, 64, 78n.66 Mansur, Dr Tengku, 69-70, 76n.34, 82n.l07, 109, 122, 144n.46, 150, 158, 248n.48, 260-2 Markas Agung (Medan), 171-2, 174, 181n.76, 226-7, 247n.31 Marxism, 10, 60-1, 66, 79n.71&74, 173-4, 219, 228, 230, 234, 237-8, 241-2, 244-5, 252-4; see also P K I MASJUMI, 237, 248n.42, 249n.70 Masubuchi Sahei, 87, 90, 92-3, 101n.26, 108, 113, 118, 120, 127, 134, 185, 187 Medan, 39, 58-9, 66, 77-8n.66, 91-2, 125; city government, 79n.68, 93, 108, 156, 160, 169-71, 219, 228; revolutionin, 148-68,173-4; Allies in, 151-2, 158, 160, 169, 171-2, 178n.8-9, 233, 237, 241-2, 244 Meliala, Ngeradjai, xii, 170, 175, 229, 230-1, 260 Merah-putih, see Flag, Indonesian Me Tareuem, 201-2 Meulaboh, 90, 111, 206, 238 Meuraxa, Teuku Djohan, 113, 199 Meureudu, 142n.5, 197, 200, 203, 206 Military, see Giyugun, Heiho, T K R , TRI Millenarianism, 57, 96 Minangkabau, see West Sumatra Minangkabaus, 34n.45, 87; in Aceh, 19-20, 22, 35-6n.69; in East Sumatra, 43, 49, 55, 59, 64, 78n.66 M I T (Majlis Islam Tinggi), 167-7,

203, 219, 227, 230, 236-7 Monarchy, see Kerajaan, Sultans Moro, Mutalib, xiii, 239, 244 Mountbatten, Admiral Lord Louis, 115, 151, 158 Muhammadiah, 20, 22-3, 26, 30-1, 34n.51, 106; in Aceh, 20, 22, 26, 37n.84, 95, 113; in East Sumatra, 63-5, 110, 176-7, 236-7 Mujahidin, 190, 197, 203-4, 207-8, 254 Mulamanik, Raja, 85, 93 Munir, Abdul Malik, 155, 164; quoted, 227 Muramoto (Nakata Eishu), xiii, 198-9, 214-Sn.62, 215n.63 Musa, Tengku (of Asahan), 76n.34, 122, 123, 158, 170-1, 220, 221, 225, 229, 231-2, 268 NAINGGOLAN, D R F . J., 165, 228-9,

233, 248-9n.53 Nakano-Gakko intelligence school, 85, 110-11,185-6, 206n.4,210n.62 Nakashima, Gen., 94,96,98,103n.61, 110, 113, 114, 124, 125, 130, 131, 133, 134, 149-50, 156 NAPINDO, 175, 231, 251n.l04, 259

Nasution, Abdul Razak, 117, 122, 153, 155, 174 Nasution, Mohammad Joenoes, xiii, 79n.71, 154, 171, 173, 182n.84, 221, 225, 227, 229, 234-5, 238-41, 244-5, 247n.24&33, 250n.85, 266 Nasution, Mohd. Yunan, xiii, 237 National Socialism, in Sumatra, 40, 74n.9 / Nationalism, 16-20, 59-63, 65-8, 93,104,108-9, 111, 119-20,122-3, 135-6, 139, 173-5, 187, 190-1, 197, 252-3, 258, 262-3 Neh, Njak, 194, 209 NICA, 152, 158, 172, 187, 191, 229

Nizam, Tengku (of Serdang), 221, 232 Njong, 36n.75, 200, 205; Uleebalang of (Teuku Laksamana Oemar), 202-3 Noer el Ibrahimy, Teungku, 25, 30 Noerdin, Tengku Mohammad, xiii, 144n.35, 232 N S T (State of East Sumatra), xvii, 248n.53, 256, 260-2 OEMAR, MOHAMMAD SALEH, xiii, 66,

285

INDEX

81n.95, 98, 109, 133, 150-1, 173, 174-5, 227, 235, 239, 247n.31, 258 Oemar, Teuku, Uleebalang of Keumangan, 15, 23-4, 26, 27, 33n.30, 196, 200, 205 Oil, 13,46, 52, 91, 115 Onn bin Ja'afar, Dato, 261-2 Otteman, Tengku (from 1945 Sultan Osman of Deli), 69, 73, 103n.61, 124, 145n.47, 157, 172, 235, 260, 262

235-6, 239-40, 242-3, 253, 258-9 Pemuda PUSA, 25, 85, 89, 90, 95,

100n.5, 111-12, 127, 189, 192, 197, 208 Penang, 2, 84-6, 87, 99n.2; radio, 84, 91 Pengkalan Brandan, 46, 81n.95, 92, 115, 142n.3 Penjedar (Medan weekly), 27-8, 33n.39, 36n.75, 37n.87 Pepper-growing, 2, 13, 14 PERAMIINDO

PAAUW, J., RESIDENT OF ACEH, 1938-

1942, 26, 27, 88 PADI, xviii, 97, 165, 233

Pajungbangun, 123, 175, 182n.87, 229, 230-1 Palembang, 77n.45, 139, 140, 152, 173, 182n.87 Panai, 50, 221, 236 Pancur Batu, see Arnhemia 'Pandraih rebellion' (May 1945), 137 Pane, Simalungun statelet, 54, 182n. 88, 231 Pane, Timur, 162, 171, 175 Pardede, Urbanus, 60, 80n.74, 154, 236, 244-5, 268 PARINDRA, 65-6,72,80n.81&83,91-2,

108, 118, 142n.7-8, 163, 175-6, 228 PARMUSI, 1 7 6 - 7 PARPINDO, 67-8, 91, 154, 174 PARTINDO, 61-2, 65-6, 72, 80n.78,

81n.93-4, 142n.7, 173, 174, 182n. 84 Pasukan V, 164-5, 228-9, 233, 235, 239, 259 Peasants, 14-15, 43, 46-8, 54-5, 56-8, 66, 71-3, 125-6, 131-3, 137, 210, 245, 252, 258, 261; peasant movements, 3-4, 57, 72-3, 83n.l 13&120,92,96-8,137,198-9, 203-4, 210-11, 238, 254-6 Pematang Siantar, 54-5, 58, 60, 61, 66, 68, 69, 72, 80n.78, 81n.91, 96&98, 117, 119, 132, 142n.8, 150, 161-2, 167, 212n.l5, 229-31, 235-6, 240, 243; p.o.w. camp, 150, 186; Siantar hotel affair, 160, 179n.41; coup attempts, 244-5, 259 Pemuda (youth), 119-20, 138, 147n. 94, 152-7, 159-69, 175-7, 187-92, 195-7, 218, 221, 224-7, 229-32,

(Seulimeum),

25-6,

35n.66 Persatuan Perjuangan, xviii, 225-9, 230-2, 234, 236, 239, 241, 243, 247n.31&37, 248n.42-3, 257; of East Sumatra, 226, 243-4 Persatuan Sumatera Timur (PST), 68-70, 97, 109, 122, 260, 261 PESINDO (before 16 November 1945,

see PRI), 164-5, 166, 167, 171-2, 174-5, 177, 192, 219-21, 224, 226-7,229, 230-5, 236, 239, 241-3, 249n.67, 251n.l04, 257, 259; in Aceh, 194, 205-6, 209, 254 Peureulak, 12, 18, 87 Peusangan, 23, 25, 30; Uleebalang of ( T . Chik), 23, 26, 30, 94, 186 Pewarta Deli (Medan daily), 39, 59, 79n.68-9, 155-6; cited, lOln. 21-2, 108 Pidie (region), 7, 11, 13, 14-15, 23-4, 25, 27-8, 29, 33n.29, 34n.50, 36n.71, 85, 89, 95, 107, 128-30, 146n.67, 195-205, 206-7, 222; Uleebalang of, 200, 203 Piekaar, A. J., xiii, 26; quoted, 10, 14, 88, 100n.45, 213n.46 Pineueng, 24, 197; Uleebalang of (T. Bintara), 35n.59, 144n.43, 205 Pirngadi, D r R. M., 66, 102n.35, 109, 118, 122, 152 P K I , xviii, 10, 60-1, 62, 79n.71-2, 79-80n.74,81 n.93,111,117,173-4, 182n.83-4, 219, 221, 225-7, 229, 230, 231, 239, 241-2, 244-5, 251n.97, 252, 256 PNI.xviii, 173-5,219,226-7, 229-30, 256; 'PNI State Party', 172-4 PNI-tWu, xx, 61, 80n.83, 154, 174, 228 Poerba, M r Djaidin, 69 Poerba, Madja, xviii, 69, 170, 181n. 74, 236, 245, 268

286

INDEX

Police: Dutch, 61-2, 65, 67, 72-3, 96-9, 103n.60; Indonesian, 107, 111, 142n.5, 154, 156, 160, 169, 188, 208,232; Aceh 'special police', 191, 199 Polim, Teuku Panglima (Muhammad Ali), xii, 88, 90, 100n.l5, 109-10, 121, 125, 138, 187, 189, 199, 204, 206; quoted, 126 Popular Sovereignty, 206, 222-4, 226, 229, 230, 234, 237, 240, 246n.20 Population, 7, 32n.l8, 33n.39, 35n.60, 43, 49, 50, 54, 58, 74n.2, 78n.66 Post, Laurens van der, 242 Press, 27-8, 36n.75, 37n.87, 59-60, 61,65, 79n.68-9&74,108-9,155-6, 176, 189, 245 PRI, xviii, 160, 170; in Aceh: 190, 191-2, 193-4, 195-9, 201-3, 215n.65-6; see also PESINDO

PST, see Persatuan Sumatera Timur Purba, Simalungun statelet, 181n.74, 231, 248n.47 PUSA (Persatuan Ulama Seluruh Aceh), 24-6, 29-31, 36n.69, 85-9, 94-6, 101n.21&23, 102n.43, 107, 108-9, 110, 111, 112, 113, 126, 127-130, 134, 136, 138, 139, 144n.43, 190, 195, 197, 201, 203, 209, 210, 254; see also Pemuda PUSA RADJAB, MUHAMMAD, 254; quoted,

255-6 Rahman, Teungku Abdul (Peusangan), 23, 25 Raliby, Osman, xiii, 198; cited, 213n.38 Rantau Prapat, 151, 232, 236; p.o.w. camp, 152, 195 Raya, Simalungun statelet, 55, 231 Rebellion: against Dutch, 10—11, 30, 57, 73, 85, 87-90, 96, 127-8; against Japanese, 112-13, 116, 119-20, 127, 137, 168; against Republic, 255, 262; see also Aron Rice-growing: in Aceh, 13, 14-15, 211; in East Sumatra, 47-8, 54, 57-8, 70-2, 77n.51, 238, 245, 256, 258; under Japanese, 125, 131, 136-7, 211 Rubber: estates, 13, 14, 40, 48, 50, 54,101n.26,124, 220, 245; smallerholder, 49

SAB CUT, 89, 210, 214n.60 Sab, Hasan, 95, 102n.43, 214n.60 Sab, Husein, 134, 198, 202, 210, 214n.60 Sabang, 163, 166, 187, 204 Sabi, Teuku (Lageuen), 30, 88 Sabi, Teuku (Samalanga), 21 Sabilillah, 133-4, 176-7, 219, 220, 231, 251n.l04 Said (Saidt), Haji Mohammad, xiii, 36n.75, 69, 109, 155-6; quoted, 224, 248n.47 Said, Teuku Chik Mohammad, Uleebalang of Cunda, 17, 18, 200-1, 205, 208, 267 Salim, Djauhari, 64 Samaindra, Uleebalang of ( T . Ma' ali), 201 Samalanga, 18, 21, 99n.4, 119, 137, 144n.35 Samin bin Taib, Mohammad, 60, 84, 99n.2, 100n.5 Saragih Ras, 175, 182n.88, 231 Sarekat Islam, 16, 99n.2; in Aceh, 16-19, 22, 24, 33n.36-9, 200; in East Sumatra, 60, 77n.45, 79n.71 Sastrosatomo, Soebadio, xiii, 242 Sawamura, General, 169 Semangat Merdeka (Kutaraja daily), 189, 204, 215n.71&79; quoted, 190 Sembiring, Rakuta, 154, 235, 268 Serdang, 3, 43-8, 51-3, 69, 70-1, 82n.ll2, 115, 219, 221, 232, 235, 240, 259; Sultan of (Soeleiman), 36n.80, 45-6, 53, 76n.36, 77n.45, 172, 232, 260 Seruan Kita (Medan weekly), 28, 33n.39, 36n.75, 37n.83 SETIA movement, 72-3, 83n.83, 96

Seulimeum, 23, 25, 192, 199, 204; revolt, 87-90; see also Wahab, Teungku Abdul Shimura Fumie, Maj. Gen., 140; quoted, 135, 139, 211n.4 Siak, 49, 52, 101n.26, 106, 186, 221; Sultan of (Sjarif Kasim), 36-7n.80, 49, 52, 76n.29, 221-2, 246n.ll, 260 Siantar, see Pematang Siantar Sidikalang, 257 Sigli, 16, 20, 25, 27, 36n.71, 89, 94, 196-7, 200-1, 204, 214n.53, 238; 4 December affair, 197-200

nBBnHHHB

287

INDEX

Sihite, 165 Simalungun, 1, 5n.3, 39, 46, 53-5, 60, 77n.47-51, 117, 175, 182n.88, 231, 235-6, 248n.47, 256; Simalungun Bataks, 1-2, 5, 43, 56, 58, 60, 68, 78n.60, 218, 256, 260 Singapore, 94, 104, 105, 107, 111, 115, 119, 127, 134, 148, 185-6, 258; Islamic conference, 114; trade with Sumatra, 220, 264n.23 Sirait, Nulung, 133, 175 Siregar, D r Gindo, 239^10, 242, 266 Siregar, M r Luat, 66, 72, 93, 108, 117, 122, 142n.8, 156, 160, 170-1, 173, 182n.83, 218-19, 223, 226-8, 234-6, 239, 241, 242, 245, 258, 264n.23, 266 Siregar, Mohammad Jacub, 66-7, 72,81n.94,85,91-2,96,98,100n.5, 111, 131, 132-3, 134, 143n.l6, 150-1, 173, 175; his wife, Chadidjah, 81n.94, 111, 132 Sitompoel, Hopman, 119-20, 161, 171 Sjafei, Mohammad, 139-41 Sjahrir, Sutan, 61, 154, 218, 228, 239, 242; his brothers, see Mahruzar and Alamsjah Sjarifuddin, M r Amir, 164, 173 218, 228, 241 - 2 ; his visit to Medan, 241-4; his cousin, see Siregar, Gindo Sjihab, Haji Abdul Rahman, 64-5, 115, 135, 142n.l2, 176-7, 237 Soangkoepon, Maharadja, 32n.l3, 65, 81n.91, 83n.ll5, 110, 122, 135, 164-5, 171 'Social revolution', 223,227-8,230-9, 241-2, 243, 245, 254, 256, 257, 260 Socialist Party: in East Sumatra (until March 1946, PARSI), 228-9, 235, 239, 251n.l04; in Java, 173, 242 Soeloeh Merdeka (Medan daily), 156-7, 222, 225, 234, 245; quoted, 159, 2 2 2 ^ Soetardjo, Sarwono S., 163-4, 171-2, 192, 225, 226-7, 230, 235-6, 241, 248n.42 Soetjipto, Col., 161, 259 Suchtelin, Jhr. B. C. C. M. M., Governor of East Sumatra, 1933-1936, 69 Sugondo, see Kartoprodjo

Sukarno, President, 61, 148, 152, 155, 172-3, 174, 179n.26, 196, 211n.9, 214n.55, 227, 237, 247n.35, 252 Sultans: Acehnese, 4-5,28-9, 36n.80; Malay, 1-5, 45-53, 62-5, 69, 76n.36, 93-4,170-2, 221-4, 260-2; see also Asahan, Deli, Langkat, Serdang, Siak Sumantri, Iwa Kusuma, 19, 61, 80n.77, 108, 142n.7 Sumatera Thawalib, 20, 23, 80n.74 Sunggal (Serbanyaman), 4, 66, 72, 76n.36, 83n.ll3&116, 97-8, 165, 228, 233, 235, 256 Swart, Gen. H . N . A., Governor of Aceh, 1908-1918, 12, 33n.36; quoted, 21 Swiss, 38, 160, 169, 179-80n.41 TAHIR,

AHMAD,

xiii,

154,

155-6,

159, 161-2, 171, 178n.l8, 227, 231, 232, 234-5, 240-1, 245, 259 Tahir, Mas, 169-70, 181n.71 Takengon, 36n.71, 126, 209-10 TALAPETA, 131-2, 138, 146n.78, 154,

166, 174-5 Taman Siswa, 63, 163; in Aceh, 22, 188, 212n.l5; in East Sumatra, 63, 66, 80n.83-4, 92, 155 Tan Malaka, Ibrahim Gelar Datuk, 39, 60, 74n.6, 79n.71, 99n.2, 173, 182n.84, 225-6, 228, 242; quoted, 38, 39, 74n.3 Tanjung Balai, 58, 66, 81n.91, 87, 115, 220, 229, 230-2, 236, 259 Tanjung Pura, 35n.67, 152, 219, 222, 233, 235, 239, 259 Tapaktuan, 20, 24, 89, 101n.20 Tapanuli, 50, 55, 64, 78n.53, 81n.91, 256-7, 259, 262, 264n.29 Tarigan, S. M., 66, 117 Taxation, 9, 13-14, 21, 47, 54-5, 57, 72, 87, 238; see also Corvee labour Tebing Tinggi, 58, 78n.66, 106, 117, 221, 229; 'Tebing Tinggi affair', 168-9 Thajeb, Teuku Mohamad, 19, 34n.45 Thamrin, Mohamad Husni, 19, 66, 77n.45, 103n.60 Tiro, 8, 190, 197; Teungku Chik di Tiro, 30, 37n.87, 109, 190, 197, 254 Tiro, Teungku Oemar, 197, 214n.55

288

INDEX

Tjokroaminoto, H. O. S., 18 T K R (Republican Army), xix, 161-3, 166-8, 169, 171, 174, 180n.,46 189,191, 193-5,196,197-9,203-4, 207, 209, 220, 221, 229, 231; after January 1946, see T R I Toba Batak, 3, 43, 49-50, 54-5, 60, 66, 68, 78-9n.66, 87, 91, lOln. 30, 133, 162, 164-5, 228, 233, 244, 256-7, 259, 260 Tobacco estates, 3-4, 38-48, 51, 56, 70-2, 78n.53&58, 82n.ll2, 124, 220, 256 Tobo, Tengku Arifin, 97-8, 103n.60, 111 Tojo Hideki, 104, 120 Tokobetsu keisatsutai, xx, 116-17, 119, 138, 143n.30, 188, 194 T P R (Tentera Perjuangan Rakyat), 207-10 Traders and business, 2-4, 13, 25, 27-8, 35n.63, 36n.71, 47, 49, 58, 101n.30, 111, 125, 168, 196, 204n.53&60, 220, 227 T R I (Republican Army from January 1946), 209, 227, 231-2, 234-5, 240-1, 243, 244, 257, 259 Trienggading, Hasballah, 203, 205 ULAMA, 121, 176; in Aceh, 5, 7,

9-11, 14, 21, 23-6, 28, 31n.3, 85, 87-90, 112-14, 127-9, 190, 195, 197-8, 201, 203-4, 210-11; in East Sumatra, 64-5, 114-15; see also PUSA

Uleebalang, 4-5, 11-21, 27-31, 32n.l8, 34n.50, 88-90, 93-5, 106, 118,121,126-30,189-91,195-211, 222, 254 'Underground', 111, 153-5 VADERLANDSCHE CLUB, 39-40, 74n.8

Village Government, 48-9, 53, 55-6, 58, 73, 97-8, 137-8, 210-11, 256-7 Violence, 4-5, 7-11, 16, 73, 83n.ll3, 87-90,97-8,113,127,137,159-64,

167-9, 192-4, 199, 201-5, 208-10, 231-3, 236, 239, 241-2, 248n.48, 249n.67, 256, 257, 259 Volksraad, xx, 19, 28-9, 32n.l3, 36n.80, 65, 79n.71, 81n.91, 83n. 115, 110, 122 WAHAB, TEUNGKU ABDUL (SEULIMEUM), 23, 25, 87-8, 95, 203,

204, 205, 267 Wasliyah, Al Jamiatul, 64-5, 106, 115, 176-7, 237 Wets Aceh, 13, 14, 20, 88-90, 111, 115, 206, 209 West Sumatra, 10, 20,79n.68, 80n.74, 86, 118, 139, 150, 176; Islamic education in, 23, 25, 27, 176; see also Minangkabaus Westerling, Lt. Raymond 'Turk', 151-2, 157, 159, 160-1, 163^1, 165, 178n.8-9, 181n.66 XARIM M . S., 36n.75, 37n.87, 61, 79-80n.74, 85, 93, 99n.2, 100n.5, 108, 111, 113, 117, 122-3, 136, 142n.8, 147n.94, 150, 153, 155-6, 162, 164, 170-1, 173-4, 176, 179n.26, 182n.84, 206-7, 216n.89, 224-6, 240-1, 245, 247n.31, 251n. 96 Xarim, Nip, xiii, 100n.5, 154-5, 162, 166, 171 YAMIN,

M R MUHAMMAD, 59,

67,

79n.68, 225 Youth, see Pemuda ZAHARI, 68, 109

Zainuddin, Haji Mohammad, xiii, 27 Zainuddin, Nathar, 61, 79-80n.74, 99n.2, 100n.5, 111, 154-5, 162, 164, 171, 173-4, 182n.83-4, 189, 208, 209, 216n.89, 225, 227, 238, 241, 244-5, 250n.73

One dot represents 500 inhabitants (1930 Census), excluding Chinese and Europeans \ I •Limit of publication coverage 100

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ETHNO-LINGUISTIC GROUPS (boundaries approximately) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

ACEH SIMALUR/SIKHULE GAYO ALAS PAKPAK BATAK (with Toba immigration) KARO BATAK (with Javanese immigration in lowlands ) MALAY (with Javanese and other immigration in plantation district) MALAY/MINANGKABAU SIMALUNGUN (with Javanese and Toba immigration) TOBA BATAK ANGKOLA BATAK MANDAILING BATAK MINANGKABAU

MALAYA