The Rise of Indonesian Communism [1st Equinox Ed] 9793780363, 9789793780368

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THE RISE OF INDONESIAN C0~O1UNISM

RuTH T. McVEv

THE RISE OF INDONESIAN COMMUNISM

EQ!)INOX PUBLISHING

JAKARTA

SINGAPORE

(As1A) PrE LTD No 3. Shenton Way #10-05 Shenton House Singapore 068805

EQUINOX PuauSHING

www.EquinoxPublishing.com The Rise of Indonesian Communism by Ruth T. McVey

First Equinox Edition 2006

Copyright © 1965 by Cornell University; renewed 1993 This is a reprint edition authorized by the original publisher, Cornell University Press.

Printed in Indonesia on I 00% postconsumer waste recycled paper. No trees were destroyed to produce this book. I 3 5 7 9 IO 8 6 4 2 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data McVcy, Ruth Thomas. The rise of Indonesian communism / Ruth T. McVey. 1st Equinox ed. Jakarta : Equinox Pub., 2006. xviii, 510 p.; 23 cm. ISBN: 9793780363 Includes bibliographical references (p. 359-491) and index. 1. Partai Komunis Indoncsia--Hiscory. 2. Communism-Indonesia. 2007306456

All rights reserved. No part of chis publication may be reproduced, scored in a retrieval system, or uansmicced in any form or by any means, dcccronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of Equinox Publishing.

To ro2 West Avenue Bhinneka T unggal Ika

Contents Preface Introduction I Communists, Socialists, and the Colonies

II Birth of the Revolutionary Movement

vii xi

1 7

III Becoming a Communist Party

34

IV Joining the Comintern V The Bloc Within

48

VI VII

Elective Affinities Semaun's Program

VIII The Bloc Above IX International Relations X

Deviation

XI Making a Revolution XII The Rebellions XIII Turning Points Notes Index

76

105 125 155 198 9S1

290 323

347 359

493

Preface THE formative years of the Indonesian Communist Party ( PKI) are of interest both for scholars concerned with modem Indonesia and for students of international Communism. One of the first political groupings in Indonesia, the PKI reflected in its early period many characteristics of a movement bridging the gap from traditional to modem concepts of political organization and goals. As such, it exhibited openly many traits that today are muted but nonetheless strong in Indonesian politics, and a study of the nature of its early appeal contributes greatly to our ability to appreciate its position as the most popular Indonesian political party today. At the same time, the early PKI contributed by both its actions and its ideas to the evolving Indonesian independence movement, and neither the growth of that movement nor the colonial government's response to it can be fully comprehended without an understanding of the Communists' role. The importance of the PKI in the international Communist movement stems chiefly from the fact that it was one of the very few Asian Communist parties to develop something of a mass following in the early years of the Comintem. It therefore provides a point of comparison for the evolution of Comintem policy in China, the chief arena of the Third Intemational's activity in underdeveloped Asia. This is particularly relevant in that the bloc-within strategy, the culmination of the Comintem's China policy in the period 1920-1927, was first evolved in Indonesia, and this prior Indonesian experience was then consciously applied in China; in Indonesia, however, as the author of the present book demonstrates, application of this strategy had a very different outcome. Most studies of Communist parties tend to concentrate either on their role on the indigenous stage or on their participation in international Communist affairs. However, to provide a balanced view of the PKl's development, Miss McVey has given her attention vii

Preface to both aspects of its early existence, and in doing so she has demonstrated the interplay of domestic and international factors in determining the party's growth. She is unusually well equipped to consider Indonesian Communism in both lights, having received her academic training first in Harvard University's Soviet Area Program, where her work was primarily concerned with the development of Comintern colonial policy, and then in the Department of Government and the Southeast Asia Program at Cornell University, where her doctoral work centered on Indonesian government and politics. Miss McVey has been studying Indonesian Communism since 1953, and in her present position as Research Associate in the Cornell Modern Indonesia Project is carrying this research forward. The present volume, conceived as the first part of a general history of the PKI, is the product of research in five countries and as many languages. It draws not only upon extensive interviews but also upon a mass of material hitherto largely unexplored. On the basis of these data, Miss McVey provides a solid documentation of events and presents an account and analysis of the party's internal workings that goes beyond, I believe, any other study of Communism in Asia. GEORGE

Ithaca July 9, 1965

viii

McT.

KAHIN

Introduction THE Indonesian Communist Party ( PKI) has attracted considerable attention in recent years because it is the largest such organization outside the Sino-Soviet bloc and the most powerful political party in its country. This notoriety is of recent vintage, but the PKI itself is not: it can claim to be the oldest major Indonesian party and the first Communist movement to be established in Asia beyond the borders of the former Russian Empire. It began as a Marxist socialist organization, founded in the Netherlands Indies a few months before the outbreak of World War I. By the time of the Soviet seizure of power in Russia it had been divested of its non-Bolshevik elements, and early in 1920 it officially took the title Communist. This volume-the first in what is planned as a general history of the Indonesian Communist movement-concerns the PKI's development from its birth in 1914 to its temporary eclipse in 1927 after a disastrous revolutionary attempt. This period has not previously been investigated by historians of international Communism. The double language barrier of Indonesian and Dutch has combined with the PKI's peripheral position as an object of Comintern interest to preserve its obscurity. The principal studies dealing with the development of Indonesian Communism during the colonial period were sponsored directly or indirectly by the Netherlands Indies government in the wake of the 1926-1927 rebellion and are limited in both their objectives and their point of view. Indeed, Indonesian political development in the colonial part of the twentieth century is, as a whole, still relatively unexplored territory; in the past decade several important scholarly investigations have appeared that add considerably to our understanding of the period, but much more needs to be done before our grasp of it can be considered in any way satisfactory. As an active participant both in the Comintern's Asian activities xi

Introduction and in the evolving Indonesian independence movement, the early PKI contributed to two historical streams. Its major importance as part of the world Communist movement is that it was the only Communist party other than the Chinese in the "colonial and semicolonial" Far East that both possessed legality and played a significant role in the political life of its country; and it was the only one to do so in a European-governed possession. The PKI's relations with the Communist International were therefore rather different from those of its illegal or politically impotent counterparts elsewhere in the colonial world. They were more intimate, in that the PKI was able to maintain active and meaningful relations with the Comintern, and also more strai'ned, in that, as a movement that had achieved political significance by its own efforts, the Indonesian party had its own vested interests and its own concepts of the proper path to power. Physical distance added to the complexity of the relationship, for, having no direct access to the Indies and no means of imposing its opinion on the party, the Comintem was forced to deal with the PKI through the Dutch Communists and the highly opinionated Indonesian party representatives abroad. Under these circumstances the lines of communication knotted into a political entanglement, the snarled skeins of which were spun of national, factional, and personal differences within the Communist leaderships concerned. The most extreme development of the program of alliance with revolutionary nationalism, which the Comintem followed from 1920 to 1927, was the so-called bloc within, whereby a Communist party's members entered a nationalist mass movement and worked to capture it from inside. The strategy was followed in two countries, Indonesia and China. The result in China has been widely discussed by both Communist and non-Communist historians, for this was the program that culminated disastrously in the defeat of the Communists by Chiang Kai-shek in 1927. The Indonesian bloc within has never really been considered as an aspect of international Communist policy, but it was in Indonesia that the strategy first developed and it was 6tted to political conditions there and not in China. The course of the Indonesian bloc within-unfolding in this case without effective interference by the Comintem-offers parallels and contrasts to the Chinese experience that may be useful in evaluating that still warmly debated episode in the history of Communist strategy. Though the PKI was never a large party in the colonial period, its

xii

Introduction place in the Indonesian politics of its day was out of all proportion to its numerical size. In 1924 the party itself had barely one thousand members, but at the same time it had by common concession the greatest popular following of all the Indonesian political groupings. Its relations with the other elements in the Indonesian opposition were of long-standing if scarcely harmonious intimacy; the nature of these connections and the attitudes of the non-Communist leaders toward the PKI as an ally, rival, and source of ideas are of interest because they reflected the organizational and ideological leanings of the Indonesian political elite-leanings which, in several important respects, are similar to those of the country's leadership in the period since independence. The PKI's relations were not confined to the elite, however; much the same as the party today, it had no special appeal for the well-educated but drew its cadres from the ranks of those who found themselves socially, economically, and psychologically on the border between Indonesia's traditional and modem worlds. Though its core was urban, lower-class, and ethnically Javanese, it extended its appeal to Outer Islanders, merchants, the religiously orthodox, members of the lesser aristocracy, and wealthier peasants, in addition to and in some places even in exclusion of the more familiar sources of Communist support. Frankly playing upon popular messianic traditions, it thus gathered a heterogeneous following whose only common characteristic was bitter discontent at the colonial status quo. In accomplishing this, the party sowed the seeds of its own destruction, demonstrating the danger of relying too much on the anarchist element which is a part of Communism's appeal: the price of the PKl's popularity was the promise of revolution, and in the end it found itself leading a rebellion its leaders knew could not succeed. The PKI's early career spanned a fateful period in the development of Dutch colonial policy, for the outcome of which the party itself was in good measure responsible. At the beginning of the century the Ethical Policy, which stressed the promotion of Indonesian social, economic, and political progress, became the guiding philosophy of Indies government. The last aim was always the policy's weakest, and with the rise of an Indonesian political opposition it was increasingly questioned by Ethicism's numerous foes. The history of the era in which Indonesian Communism 6rst developed is one of bitter conflict between those who were convinced that only a xiii

Introduction sympathetic approach to Indonesian political movements would ensure the healthy development of the colony and those who feared political freedom was a Pandora's box, the opening of which would result in revolution. It was a losing battle for the Ethici; scholars disagree on just when the tide turned against them, but the final blow their cause received is clear: it was the Communist rebellion of 192.6-1927, which ended Dutch efforts to compromise with the Indonesian opposition and so left the Indonesian parties no real middle road between revolution and disengagement from the problem of achieving independence. There is reason enough, then, to undertake a study of the early PKI. The problem, however, is how to go about it. Anyone attempting to deal with the history of a Communist movement outside the USSR must decide whether to consider the party primarily as a component of a world movement or to view it as a part of the domestic political scene. In some cases the nature of the available materials or the course of the party's history makes the choice a fairly simple one; in the case of the early PKI, however, the problem is vexing. Both its international and its domestic connections were important to the party's development; at the same time, the history of the PKI provides useful material for understanding both the Indonesian independence movement and the colonial policy of the Comintern. My initial intention, having come to the PKI by way of an interest in the history of Communism, was to focus chiefly on the party's character as a component of the Comintern and to deal with the domestic scene only as a background for its relations with the Third International. I found, however, that the closeness of the party's ties to its local environment, when combined with the fact that these surroundings have not yet been adequately studied, forced me either to gloss over problems that were of cardinal importance for the party's attitude toward the world movement or to devote as much attention to its domestic as to its international setting. The result is a work that views the party in both environments and is directed at students of Indonesian as well as Communist history. This has meant that I have included some information which, though doubtless familiar to one group of readers, is needed by the other and that I have discussed some problems that are germane to one set of interests but not to both. I have tried to weave my account closely enough so that this does not irritate the reader; so far as I have not succe~ed in xiv

Introduction this, I hope the advantage of having both sides of the Communist coin presented in one work will outweigh the stylistic drawbacks. The paucity of studies concerning the period in which the PKI arose made limitation of the subject difficult, but it provided a clear choice in another matter. Although treatments based on conceptual frameworks are often more stimulating than chronological accounts, it seemed to me that at this stage the latter approach would be more useful, as it would provide an easily accessible record of events. The fact that the work is devoted to analysis and suggestion as much as to annals led me to the same conclusion. Communism, nationalism, and colonialism are subjects on which few people agree, and I felt the reader would accordingly be best served by an account that provided enough detail, arranged in a chronological-and thus undirected-framework, to enable him to interpret the events for himself. Since I am dealing with the PKI on several levels, I have not always been able to adhere to a presentation through time-I have deviated from it most notably in describing the party's communications with the Comintern and in discussing its organization and social sources of support-but this has remained the basic structure of the study. Similar reasons prompted me to document my account closely. There are a number of points at which my version of events differs from that given in other histories, and heavy documentation is necessary if this is not to become just one more divergent source from which the bewildered reader must choose. Furthermore, although a comparatively rich amount of primary sources and contemporary accounts of the early PKI exist, not all the story could be pieced together from these, and it seemed to me important that the reader be able to check how close a source was to the event it described. Finally, the fact that an account is firsthand by no means guarantees its accuracy. A high degree of personal and partisan feeling colored the writings and statements of participants in the events described here; even government intelligence reports classified for internal use and dealing with matters observed firsthand were often heavily slanted by their compiler's prejudice against or in favor of Indonesian political activity. Neither the Indies Dutch nor the Indonesian-language press was noted for checking stories before printing them; the major Indonesian papers, for that matter, functioned more as journals of debate than of record and were not overly concerned with recounting

xv

Introduction events. In consequence, widely differing presentations of facts-let alone motives-appear in contemporary sources on the events in which the PKI was involved. One way to judge whether an event did or did not take place as described in a 6rsthand account is to trace the survival of the account in subsequent writings-particularly those of the side injured by that version. I have supplied later references in addition to contemporary ones wherever it was possible to do so, in the many cases where the firsthand sources might be considered skewed by bias. In an important sense, the sharp disagreement of contemporary sources on the early PKI is all to the good. It has not been necessary for me to rely to any great extent on the analytical techniques of what has become popularly known as Kremlinology: no lacquer of monolithic unity hid the splinters of debate in the early phase of the Indonesian party. Not only was intraparty disagreement on major issues aired publicly, but the Indies Communist press was decentralized, with regional journals reflecting the thinking and the popular approach of the provincial party leaders who ran them. Moreover, until about 1924 the PKI was closely tied to the other components of the Indonesian national movement; it was not a closed group, and its various non-Communist observers were relatively well aware of what was going on within it. They themselves might be highly prejudiced in their views, but there was no firm division into pro- and anti-Communist in Indonesian politics of the period; consequently, we find contemporary outside accounts of the party's activities reflecting a wide range of approaches to the subject and a correspondingly rich store of analysis. Differences in attitude toward the emergence of Indonesian nationalism similarly lent variety to the interpretations appearing in government reports. Moreover, certain Dutch officials and scholars associated with the Indies government added to their private libraries the classified documents, intelligence and police reports, and accounts by local administrators to which they were given access. Thus materials dealing with a broad spectrum of the party's activities, which might otherwise have been lost or hidden away in archives, were available to me; and I am grateful to the Indonesian government for granting me permission to use them. The existence of such materials, along with those of government-sponsored sociological investigations into the two major areas of rebellion, a few important bits of party xvi

Introduction correspondence, advice and criticisms-some very outspoken-by the PKI's advisers abroad, and the oral accounts of surviving party leaders of the period made it possible to consider the PK.I on many levels and from many angles. The result is that, in spite of the span of years that separates the early PKI from a present-day observer, the nature of the party in its first stage of development is in some ways more visible than its present personality. I hope that this volume contributes to revealing that character and, in consequence, aids in our understanding a formative period in the development both of Indonesian politics and of Asian Communism. Since the research for this study took place over a number of years, a great many individuals and institutions contributed to its realization. I am particularly indebted to George McT. Kahin, of Cornell University, without whose encouragement and painstaking guidance the work would never have reached completion. I should further like to express my thanks to Mario Einaudi and Knight Biggerstaff, also of Cornell, who advised my study of Marxist ideology and Asian revolutionary history, and to Merle Fainsod, of Harvard, who guided me to the study of Comintern colonial strategy. In the Netherlands, Professors W. F. Wertheim and G. F. Pijper were generous with their time and advice; B. Coster made available to me the surviving set of Het Vri;e Woord, which he once edited, and A. van Marie and James S Holmes made the vital contribution of first suggesting that I study the Indonesian Communist movement. In Indonesia I should particularly like to thank Sernaun, Darsono, the late Alimin, and Djamaluddin Tamin-all of whom were extremely patient and frank in answering my endless questions about the movement they once ledas well as Mansur Bogok, who was most helpful in introducing me to these and later leaders of Indonesia's revolutionary left. Finally, I wish to express my very great gratitude to those who were with me as graduate students in the Southeast Asia Program at Cornell University; their companionship made study a pleasure, and their ideas and criticisms did much to discipline my work and broaden its approach. The major part of my research was done in the following libraries, the staffs of which were most helpful to me: in the United States, the university libraries at Cornell and Harvard, New York Public Library, and Hoover Memorial Library at Stanford; in the Netherlands, the libraries of the Royal Tropical Institute, the International

mi

Introduction Institute for Social History, the Royal Library, the Documentation Bureau for Overseas Law, the Ministry for Overseas Territories, and the Royal Institute for Linguistics, Geography, and Ethnography; in England, the British Library for Political and Social Sciences and the library of the Royal Institute for International Affairs; in the USSR, the Lenin Library in Moscow and the libraries of the Institute of Asian Peoples in Moscow and Leningrad; and in Indonesia, the library of the Museum at Djakarta. My study in them was made possible by Cornell University, its Southeast Asia Program, and the Cornell Modem Indonesia Project, which supported various phases of my research at Cornell and in the Netherlands as well as my visits to England and the USSR; by the Ford Foundation, which granted me fellowships for work in the Netherlands, Indonesia, and the United States; by the Russian Research Center, a fellowship from which supported my work at Harvard; and by the Fels Foundation, which made passible the writing of the study. Needless to say, none of them is in any way responsible for the views presented in the book. Most introductions end in a flurry of technicalities, and this one is no exception: I shall close with a note on spelling. Both the Indonesian and the Dutch orthographies were revised after the period dealt with in this volume. The names of people and organizations existing both then and now are thus spelled differently at different times. Recent works in Indonesian and Dutch referring to the earlier period generally use the new rather than the original spelling of names. Because the present spelling is more akin to actual pronunciation, I have chosen to use it except in the titles of publications. The only significant change in Indonesian spelling is the substitution of u for the Dutchderived oe. In Dutch, the major changes have been the dropping of doubled vowels and the ch in sch wherever their presence did not affect pronunciation.

RUT11 T. McVEY

Ithaca June, 1965

xviii

I

Communists, Socialists, and the Colonies ONE of the major tasks assigned the Comintem by its founders was to create a role for Communism in that act of the Asian revolutionary drama which was played out between the two world wars. In part, this concern for revolution in the East was a product of Russian proximity to the major Asian countries and the Soviet Union's consequent desire to influence events in those lands. The Intemational's interest did not stop with Russia's neighbors, however, for its efforts in Asia were only one part of an attempt to make a place for Communism in underdeveloped areas all over the world: The East-this is not only the oppressed Asian world. The East is the whole colonial world, the world of the oppressed peoples not only of Asia, but also of Africa and South America: in a word, all that world on whose exploitation rests the might of capitalist society in Europe and the United States. 1

This belief that the colonies played a vital role in shoring up the capitalist system was not part of the original Marxian system: the tradition in which the European revolutionary socialists were raised not only tended to ignore the colonial problem in general but also went so far as to deny that the Communists had a part to play in the backward areas of the world. The destruction of capitalism through socialist revolution absorbed the attention of the movement's founders; and this, they held, could only take place in highly industrialized Western Europe, where a massive proletarian class groaned under the rule of the bourgeoisie.2 Other societies would be consumed in the spreading holocaust, but their populations would provide neither the spark nor the fuel for it. The colonial question was thus peripheral in Marxian thought, and it was not until some years after his death that Marx's followers began to

1

Rise of Indonesian Communism reinterpret his system to allot the East a more important role. The cause of this reappraisal was the unprecedented prosperity the capitalist nations enjoyed at the tum of the century. Marx had pictured Europe's future as one of deepening economic crises and mounting proletarian misery. The capitalist states, however, became more prosperous than ever, and-even more surprising to the revolutionaries-the economic and social position of the working class distinctly improved. Marx was thus apparently wrong, and his system had to be either abandoned or reinterpreted to explain the new development In response to this ideological crisis, the main body of continental socialists abandoned the belief that socialism could be gained only through revolution. The progress made thus far by organized labor showed, they held, that the proletariat could gain sufficient strength by parliamentary means to force the capitalists to accede to its demands and, eventually, to take over the government itself. This revision of Marx's theory had tremendous implications for the socialists' attitude on international questions: for if the proletariat did have a chance to participate in and eventually control the affairs of its country, it then followed that the working class had a stake in the nation's welfare and that Marx's dictum that the proletariat had no fatherland was no longer valid. The consequences of this position were vividly illustrated in 1914, when the socialist parties of the great powers decided to back their governments in war; but the implications had also been evident some years before in the debate on the colonial question at a congress of the Second (Socialist) International held in Stuttgart in 1907. At that meeting, the majority of the delegates from the major powers supported a proposal to abandon the International's previous policy of condemning colonialism outright. They reasoned that possession of colonies was not an evil in itself, for the exploitation of underdeveloped areas brought prosperity to European workers and economic and political development to the colonies.• What should therefore be combated, the reformists held, was the misuse of colonial power and not the possession of colonies per se.• This left the colonial question, so far as the Revisionists were concerned, where it had been for Marx-on the periphery of socialist interest. They tended to see the problem as one on which their stand had to be determined on general humanitarian grounds rather than by the 2

Communists, Socialists, and the Colonies immediate interests and desires of the European working class. Indeed, to support colonial independence frequently meant to oppose those interests and desires, for such a stance offended nationalist feelings and alarmed those who thought that the Joss of the colonies would bring poverty and unemployment to the metropolitan workers. When we consider that the Revisionist leaders staked their hopes on parliamentary success-and thus on securing widespread popular support-we can readily understand why they generally allowed the colonial question to rest as a side issue in their party platforms and why they placed far more emphasis on reform in the colonial governments than on speedy independence for the colonies. The Revisionist proposal was defeated at the 1907 congress by a combination of socialist delegates from the lesser noncolonial powers and representatives of the second major stream of Marxist thought, the Left or Orthodox socialists. This was the ideological faction to which Lenin belonged and which, after much splitting, was to form the core of the Third (Communist) International. The radical group generally held that the reason why Marx's prophecy of capitalist crisis had not been fulfilled was that the capitalist system in the industrially developed Western countries had renewed its lease on life by expanding into less developed parts of the world: in other words, by imperialism. A number of theories on the imperialist phenomenon were developed by the radical Marxists, but the most important for our purposes is that set forth by Lenin. The Russian revolutionary asserted that capitalism, because of its anarchic, competitive nature, necessarily results in overproduction of goods and capital. The capitalist nations are forced to take up an imperialist policy in an effort to find new areas for capital investment; and to ensure that a sufficient area will be available to them, the capitalist powers reserve underdeveloped areas by placing them under colonial rule. The state is thus used by capitalist interests to further their expansionist policies, and in this process nationalism, hitherto a progressive force, is twisted into an imperialist weapon. During the imperialist period, the upper levels of the working class in the metropoles may enjoy some small share of the colonial profits; in return for this, they tend to identify with their "national interests• rather than with the interests of the proletariat as a whole. When, however, the division of the world among the great imperial powers has been completed, there will be increasingly savage wars among the 3

Rise of Indonesian Communism master nations for control of subject areas; these confticts will force such great sacrifices upon the workers that they will eventually revolt and bring down the capitalist system. As I have stated, this theory was developed in response to the situation in Western Europe rather than in Asia. In explaining capitalist prosperity, however, it succeeded in bringing the colonial question from the outskirts of Marxist thought to its very center: for if in its imperialist stage capitalism depends for its existence on dominating underdeveloped regions, it follows that removing those areas from metropolitan control would mortally injure the capitalist system. During the existence of the Comintem, the Communists never came to the extreme conclusion that could be drawn from Lenin's theory-that is, that the colonial areas, as the •soft underbelly of capitalism," were actually a more important arena of revolution than was industrial Europe. The doctrine did, however, keep the Comintem from viewing the colonial issue simply as a side line to the revolutionary campaign in Europe. Although the requirements of Russian foreign policy would, of themselves, have forced a considerable Communist interest in the awakening of Asia, we may doubt whether this concern would have expressed itself as consistently and uncompromisingly as it did in the 6rst two decades after the October Revolution, bad it not been for this ideological incentive. Lenin did not publish his full theoretical analysis of imperialism until 1917, but the divergence between the right and left socialist views on the subject had been clearly apparent since the tum of the century and, as we have seen, led to a major dispute at the 1907 Stuttgart congress. 11 The debate in that assembly was dominated by Karl Kautsky, advocating retention of socialist anticolonial views on behalf of the Orthodox left, and the Dutch representative, H. van Kol, who urged adoption of a resolution which bad been proposed by the Revisionistdominated colonial commission of the congress and which provided as follows: The congress affirms that the usefulness of coloniaJ policy in general, and especially for the working class, is strongly exaggerated. However, it does not reject every colonial policy on principle and for all time, since under a socialist regime it could have a civilizing effect.•

Van Kol was the principal colonial expert of the Netherlands Social Democratic Workers' Party (SDAP); he prided himself on the practi-

4

Communists, Socialists, and the Colonies cal view of affairs that ten years' experience in the Dutch parliament had given him, and he let Kautsky know plainly that his advocacy of economic and technical assistance instead of socialist colonialism was sheer folly: Today we have heard once again the old wives' tale of colonial oppression, which has become boring enough for a congress of socialists. . . . We in Holland have the right and the duty to impart our experiences to the comrades of the other countries. We Dutch socialists have won for ourselves the confidence of millions of Javanese. . . . If we Europeans go [to underdeveloped areas] armed only with tools and machinery, we would be the helpless victims of the natives. Therefore we must come with weapons in our hands, even jf Kautsky calls this imperialism. 7

"'We have achieved signincant advantages for our Dutch colonies through our socialist action in Parliament," Van Kol declared, and he assured the other socialists that they would not be thanked for a persistently negative attitude toward colonialism: "If you wish to achieve for yourselves the confidence of the natives, you too must take an active part in colonial affairs." As for Kautsky's proposals of disinterested economic assistance-"Boolclearningl And he wants to civilize a country that wayl"-the portly Hollander conjectured that "the natives might destroy our machines: they might kill or even eat us, in which case ( stroking his stomach) I fear I would be given preference over Kautsky." 8 When the congress finally formulated a resolution that satisfied both Orthodox and Revisionist views, the Dutch delegation was the only one to object, abstaining from the final vote on the grounds that the compromise did not sufficiently acknowledge the positive aspects of colonialism.9 Van Kol's attitude reflected the main stream of thought in the Dutch socialist party, which was one of the most conservative members of the Second International. To the SOAP leaders, civili7.ation was equivalent to Westemization, and socialism could be accomplished only by fully developed capitalist societies: "The leap from barbarism to socialism is impossible." 10 The advanced countries must therefore visit civili7.ation on the less fortunate areas, whether they liJced it or not; and they must encourage indigenous private enterprise in the colonies, for only with the development of nativeowned heavy industry could the civilizing process be considered accomplished and the transfer to independence and socialism be contemplated.11 5

Rise of Indonesian Communism In later years, the SOAP gradually modified its views on the benefits of colonialism and the economic prerequisites for independence, but nonetheless it maintained a very moderate attitude, within the main stream of liberal nonsocialist Dutch thought on colonial affairs. The party's interest in the whole subject was peripheral, for as a primarily Revisionist group, basing its hopes on labor union organization and electoral success, it concentrated its efforts and interests ahnost completely on the immediate concerns of the Dutch working class. 12 This was above all true before World War I, when Van Kol was virtually the only socialist leader to talce a real interest in the colonial question. Yet it was in this period, and from this conservative movement, that the seeds of revolutionary Leninist Marxism were planted in Indonesia.

6

II

Birth of the Revolutionary Movement IN 1913 a Dutch-owned sugar company in Java was moved by the untoward course of recent events in that island to publish the following notice in several Indies newspapers under the candid title of "'Terri6ed": Required, with an eye to the rising unrest among the native populace in Java, a capable Netherlands-Indies military officer, willing to advise the management of several large enterprises concerning the preparation of their installations against attack. 1

The advertisement reflected all too well the state of nerves then prevailing among many Indies Netherlanders, who were convinced that the specter of revolution was stalking Java. Echoes of their alarm spread to Europe, where the exiled Lenin was cheered by this new threat to imperialist rule: It is being carried foiward, first, by the popular masses of Java, among whom there has risen an Islamic nationalist movement. Second, by an intelligentsia brought into being by the development of capitalism. It consists of Europeans acclimatized in the colony who demand independence for the Dutch Indies. Third, by the fairly large Chinese population in Java and the other islands, which brought over the revolutionary movement in China. . . . The amazing speed with which the parties and unions are being founded is one of the typical developments of the prerevolutionary period. . . . The workers of the advanced countries follow with interest and inspiration this powerful growth of the liberation movement, in all its various forms, in every part of the world. 2

The cause of this disturbance was the emergence of the first mass political movement in Indonesia, the Sarekat Islam (Islamic Union). 7

Rise of Indonesian Communism

The SI had been founded at the end of 1911 as the Islamic Commercial Union-Sarekat Dagang Islam-in Surakarta (Solo), capital of one of the two remaining princely territories of Java. Its original purpose was to protect the interests of Javanese batik merchants from increasing competition by Indies Chinese traders; however, it swiftly caught the popular imagination and emerged as something far broader than a merchants' protective group. In 1912 the association was reorganized under the leadership of Umar Said Tjolaoaminoto and, dropping the commercial portion of its name, set itself up to promote the social and economic progress of the Indonesian common man. Banished from Solo, it moved its headquarters to Surabaja, the capital of East Java; very rapidly it gained adherents throughout the island, and by 1913, though nebulous in discipline and purpose, it was clearly a force to be seriously reckoned with. 8 The Sarekat Islam arose at a time of considerable ferment in Javanese social, economic, and religious life. The island was already beginning to feel the burden of overpopulation: in many areas there was very little unused arable land, and peasant holdings were being divided into smaller and smaller portions in order to take care of the growing number of cultivators. Villagers became increasingly dependent on work provided by plantations, on sharecropping arrangements, or on finding work in the towns. This process was accompanied by a gradual impoverishment, which bad become sufBciently marked by the turn of the century to bring about a major revision in the Dutch colonial program. The Ethical Policy adopted at this time aimed both at improving the social and economic lot of the Indonesians and at preparing them to associate with Europeans in governing the colony. Its immediate result was a considerable increase in the visible participation of the colonial government in Indonesian affairs. Hitherto the Dutch had relied heavily on indirect rule via the traditional Indonesian social structure; under the Ethical Policy, however, the European administration was greatly expanded, technical services were added, and Western authorities began to play a direct role even at the local level. This development inevitably produced in the population a heightened awareness of the European presence: moreover, it furthered the decline of traditional authority, both indirectly and as the deliberate product of the government's efforts at social administrative modernization. In the same period the European economic role in the Indies was 8

Birth af the Revolutionary Movement expanding rapidly, creating a marked dichotomy between modem and traditional sectors of the economy. This contrast was most evident in East and Central Java, which was both the heartland of Javanese high culture and the area where Western enterprise and government were penetrating most deeply. Plantation agriculture was well established there; it was devoted primarily to the production of sugar, which expanded rapidly after the turn of the century and was Indonesia's principal export crop prior to the Great Depression. The sugar plantations shared the irrigated lowlands with the rice-cultivating peasantry. The estates owned no land themselves but leased it from the villages surrounding the sugar mills, rotating their portion with every canegrowing season. The traditional and modern economic sectors were thus closely interlocked; the sugar-growing areas, already centers of dense rural population, became increasingly crowded as people from neighboring areas moved in to seek work on the plantations, while the local peasantry, in chronic need of cash to pay taxes and debts,·was inclined to lease out more land than it could part with and still remain selfsuf6cient.' The great burden of population on the land and the dependence of the peasantry on its powerful plantation partner provided ample opportunity for friction and abuse, and the Ethical colonial government introduced a host of new regulations and services aimed at controlling peasant-planter relations and developing the economy of the area. The benefits of its policy were not always apparent to the people, but the burdens were. Improvements in roads and irrigation works meant more taxation in labor for their maintenance, and the general increase in government activity meant greater taxation in perennially scarce cash. The traditional sources of rural leadership seemed incapable of mediating between the villagers and the impinging outside world: they appeared helpless in the face of superior European power, too closely identified with the colonial government and/or plantations, or simply unable to master the proliferating regulations and requirements imposed on the villagers. As a result, people began to look beyond the traditional authorities for representation and _leadership, and the Sarekat Islam seemed to them a promising alternative. Having begun among the urban commercial class, it spread rapidly to the poorer population of the towns and then began to acquire a considerable rural following. The swiftly multiplying outposts of the SI took on the aspect of complaint bureaus, to which a vast and varied number

9

Rise of Indonesian Communism of grievances were presented in the hope of redress; and Tjokroaminoto was acclaimed by many as the Ratu Adil, the Prince of Righteousness promised by tradition to lead the people in their hour of need. The speed of the Sarelcat Islam's expansion and its attraction for the uneducated peasantry in itself caused considerable European concern. It was feared that, by assuming the function of popular spokesman, the SI would cut through the established channels of authority and drive a dangerous wedge between the administration and the people. The adulation of Tjokroaminoto and the disorganized and sometimes disorerly character of the association seemed potentially explosive factors, and even those who sympathized with the Indonesian popular awakening felt that it would be necessary to check the movement's growth. A less immediate but ultimately more alarming prospect was the religious identification of the SI. The Dutch bad built their system of indirect rule on the pre-Islamic customary ( adat) structure, supporting it where necessary against the claims of Islamic rivals for popular leadership, and in general tended to discount the strength of the Muslim religion in the archipelago. However, the recently ended Atjeh War had illustrated the folly of neglecting Islam as a focal point of leadership, and the emergence of Pan-Islamism as a dynamic force in Asia, combined with the recent revival of religious energy in Java under the impact of modernist Islamic teachings, made the creation of a religiously based resistance movement seem all too possible. In the absence of the concept of an Indonesian nation-and this idea was generally lacking among the peoples of the archipelago at the tim«>Islam appeared to be the most lilcely source of unity against foreign rule; and in their early dealings with the SI the Dutch showed themselves to be painfully aware of this fact The Sarekat Islam's followers were united· by their profession of faith, but they were not agreed on their interpretation of religion or on the role it should play in the Si's activities. The movement attracted many santri, strict Muslims who wished to see it promote either the modernist religious interpretations that were becoming popular among the urban commercial groups or the older forms considered orthodox in the countryside; it also included abangan Javanese, whose Muslim faith was mixed with a considerable portion of pre-Islamic beliefs and who opposed the religious purism of the santri. It drew some of its backing from lesser prijaii (gentry) who objected to the rigid conservatism of the Indonesian regents or the princely regime in Surakarta; at 10

Birth of the Revolutionary Movement the same time it acquired support from traditionalists who opposed the program of Westernization put forth by Budi Utomo, a cautiously progressive movement that had been founded by younger Javanese prliaii in 1908. In short, the SI was extremely heterogeneous in composition; it expressed the malaise felt by a society undergoing profound change, and the very vagueness of its organization and aims allowed it to include those whose dissat!5faction took contradictory forms. This varied following made it most difficult for the Sarekat Islam's leaders to channel the movement and for the authorities to evolve a coherent policy toward it. Moreover, it posed the danger that such generalized restlessness, once collected in a single organization, might be turned against foreign rule-the one obvious element that could appear to both modernizers and traditionalists, santri and abangan, Javanese and non-Javanese as the cause of their frustrations. 5 To the great majority of Europeans resident in the Indies, the Sarekat Islam presented a disruptive force that the government could not afford to tolerate. The number of Dutch inhabitants of the colony had been increasing rapidly since the end of the nineteenth century; most of the newcomers viewed the archipelago as a temporary abode and had little interest in Ethical experiments with native progress, particularly when this seemed to threaten their own security. The officials of the Binnenlands Bestuur, the European civil administration that paralleled and dominated the pri;a;i-run Indonesian bureaucracy, were overwhelmingly against tolerating the SI. They pointed out that the Ethical Policy was predicated on the assumption that the loosening of traditional ties, the spread of education, and the encouragement of an Indonesian awakening would result in a gradual evolution in· friendly apprenticeship to the Dutch. This, they asserted, was dangerously unrealistic; instead, the Indonesian people would pass from domination by custom to domination by demagogues. They must therefore be kept as long as possible in the bottle of traditionalism, for once they escaped, they would inevitably do so as a revolutionary force. It was Governor General Idenburg's duty, the conservatives held, to ban the Sarekat Islam as he had the Indische Partij ( Indies Party), which had vainly sought recognition from him in 1912. Idenburg, however, saw the SI as something very different from the Indische Partij. That organization had had frankly revolutionary inclinations, whereas the SI showed no disloyalty; moreover, it had been clearly oriented toward the Eurasi;ln population and thus could not be 11

Rise of Indonesian Communism considered to represent Indonesian opinion. The Sarekat Islam, however, appeared to represent a step toward the popular awakening that was a goal of the Ethical Policy: "We must therefore refoice over it, even if we find this somewhat difficult. We wanted this-at least we said we did-and have encouraged it through our education." 9 The movement, he considered, could serve the useful purpose of opposing arbitrary action by employers, plantations, and government officials; its "complaint bureau" function might prove useful as an escape valve for popular frustrations and as an indicator of local grievances. If the SI weakened traditional authority by bypassing it, this, he held, was because that authority was no longer able to represent and guide the people; such popular movements as the Sarekat Islam might help to replace it. 7 The Governor General therefore took a sympathetic attitude toward the new movement, but although his stand was supported by the Minister of Colonies and the Dutch parliament it aroused great alarm among most of the Indies Dutch, who felt the government was opening the door to chaos. To them, SI stood for Salah Idenburg-Idenburg's mistake. 8 Wild rumors of native conspiracy were circulated: a revolt was being organized by the SI; Suralcarta royalty was secretly behind the rebellion; the native police were putting pressure on plantation workers to join the movement; the Indonesian railway workers were organized to cut off communications when the time came to revolt. For some months a mood close to panic prevailed among the Indies Dutch; nearly all sugar estates took precautionary measures against attack, and some established arsenals.• Idenburg was by no means insensitive to the fears of the Indies Europeans; moreover, he was himself seriously disturbed by the Si's rapid and undisciplined growth. Consequently, when the sugar estate operators sent a deputation to express their concern about the Sarekat Islam, the Governor General was able to assure them that be did not intend to allow the movement to expand unchecked. On June 30, 1913, he informed the SI leaders that he could not recognize the association on a centralized basis, since it bad yet to demonstrate organizational and financial responsibility. However, its local groups might continue to exist autonomously, and the central leadership could act as a contact body until such time as it proved itself ready to assume the responsibilities of control.10 In the midst of the alarms and eJcursions surrounding the rise of 12

Birth of the Revolutionary Movement the Sarekat Islam, a young Dutch labor leader, Hendricus Josephus Franciscus Marie Sneevliet, arrived in the Indies. He was a gifted and ardent propagandist, a mystic whose search for salvation had begun with Catholicism and ended with "the Richness, the Beauty, the Luster of the Social Democratic Religion. For social democracy is, rightly understood, more than a political teaching. It brings with it the heavy burden of bearing witness, of sowing the seed of propaganda at all times and in all places." 11 Sneevliet had come to the Indies simply to seek employment, but his sense of a revolutionary vocation made it inevitable that his major activity would be the preaching of his political beliefs. Sneevliet's zeal made him demanding of his colleagues and chronically incapable of compromise, but at the same time he was never so sure of his own interpretation of the socialist faith as to be immune from changes of denomination. In this, he followed his own crises of conscience rather than the exigencies of political self-interest. He remained in the Revisionist SDAP when most of his fellow radical Marxists left it to form the SDP, precursor of the Communist Party of Holland. In 1912, however, he switched to the radical group when the reformists refused to back a dockworkers' strike in Amsterdam. This break with the moderates cost him his job, for up to that point Sneevliet had been chairman of the SOAP-controlled railway workers' union ( NVSTP). No other employment as a unionist was available, and since private industry showed little inclination to hire such a well-known firebrand, he decided to seek his fortune in the Indies. Before he left Holland, however, Sneevliet experienced another change of heart: disturbed at the SDP's decision to run in the Dutch elections against the Revisionist party-and thus, in his estimation, to split the socialist vote -he left it and rejoined the older group. During most of his stay in Indonesia Sneevliet was thus, in spite of his revolutionary activities, a member of the moderate SDAP and not of the proto-Communist movement. 12 Fortunately for Sneevliet, educated Europeans were in considerable demand at that time in the Indies, and his political background was therefore no bar to employment. He first joined the editorial staff of the Soerabajaasch Handelsblad, the principal newspaper of East Java and the voice of the powerful Sugar Syndicate. Shortly thereafter a fellow socialist, D. M. G. Koch, left his job as secretary of the Semarang Handelsvereniging (Commercial Association) and got Sneevliet

13

Rise of Indonesian Communism appointed his successor. The move to the Central Javanese capital was politically propitious, for Semarang, a rapidly expanding urban center, was the seat of such radical activity as the Indies then possessed. The atmosphere of the town was considerably more liberal than that of the other major Javanese cities, in part because it was a center for European commercial interests that hoped to develop an internal market in Java and thus looked favorably on the Ethical Policy's goal of raising the Indonesian standard of living. 13 It was these interests-import houses, banks, and manufacturing ~blishments-that were Sneevliet's employers, and initially their relations with their new secretary were extremely cordial Sneevliet did an excellent job of promoting capitalism during his working hours, and the Handelsvereniging made no objection to his extracurricular efforts on behalf of socialism. It only asked that he not set about actually organizing a revolution; but this is what Sneevliet proceeded to do. 14 Semarang was the headquarters of the Indonesian railroad workers' union ( VSTP), an organization in which Sneevliet took a natural· interest because of his former association with its Dutch equivalent. The VSTP was one of the oldest Indonesian labor unions, founded some five years previously; it was also progressive for its time, welcoming both skilled Dutch and Indonesian members into its ranks. i:i Within a year of his arrival in Semarang, Sneevliet had succeeded in moving the union along more radical lines, shifting its concern toward improving the lot of the unsJcilled and impoverished Indonesian workers.11 Early in 1914 Sneevliet added to his full-time job in the capitalist world the task of editing the VSTP's newspaper, De Volhardmg (Persistence); at the same time he busied himself learning Indonesian and Javanese in order to communicate his beliefs to the local population.17 This was not enough, however, to satisfy his desire to spread the socialist faith: real work, he felt, could only be accomplished through the organized efforts of all the socialists already in the Indies. Accordingly, on his initiative a group of sixty social democrats met in Surabaja on May 9, 1914, to found the Indies Social Democratic Association (Indische Sociaal-Democratische Vereniging; ISDV). 18 The ISDV was one day to become the Indonesian Communist Party, but its first meeting gave doubtful evidence that it was either Indonesian or Communist. Nearly all those present were Dutch, and the few Eurasians and Indonesians who attended remained in the background.

14

Birth of the Revolutionary Movement Most of the charter members belonged to the SOAP and not to its more radical rival. 19 Nearly all had become socialists while in the Netherlands and had come to Indonesia as fairly recent immigrants. Their reactions to the totally unfamiliar social conditions in the colony differed sharply: some abandoned Marxism so far as Indonesia was concerned, advocating Ethical gradualism as the only practical approach to so backward a society; others, stung by the grave injustices of the colonial system, insisted on the applicability of revolutionary principles regardless of the country's stage of development. 20 This latter group was the more powerful one, and so, in spite of the adherence of its members to the moderate group in Europe, the main impetus of the ISDV was toward the extreme left This was of considerable importance at its first meeting, for the moderates and radicals split at the very start over the question of the organi7.ation's function. The rightists wished to see the association become a center for exchanging ideas among the European socialists in the Indies and a fact-finding bureau for the socialists in the Dutch parliament They did not thinlc it would be appropriate for the ISDV to participate in Indonesian political life itself, in the first place because the association members had neither a sufficient knowledge of Indonesian society nor the necessary command of the local languages to have an influence on native politics. Moreover, they held the evolutionary theory that socialism was meaningful only in countries with a well-developed industrial proletariat; in precapitalist Indonesia, they considered, socialist agitation would be at best useless and would at worst lend support to irresponsible revolutionary elements in the Indonesian political world. 21 Those socialists who shared Sneevliet's viewpoint saw the ISDV's main task as propagating socialist principles in the Indies; they thought socialism could play a direct role in colonial areas, particularly by encouraging revolutionary anti-imperialism. After a heated debate the radical majority had its way, and it was declared that the party's function was to unite the Indies socialists, to inform the social democratic faction in the Dutch parliament of conditions in the Indies, and to spread socialist propaganda throughout the land. Now it was all very well to elect for participation in Indonesian politics; it was another thing to 6nd a means of doing so effectively. The ISDV, though it included nearly all the socialists then in the Indies, was hardly an imposing organization: in 1915 it had only 85 members and a year later 134. 22 It had neither funds, nor influence,

15

Rise of Indonesian Communtsm nor a program comprehensible to the mass of the Indonesian population; and the moderate socialists had been perfectly right in pointing out the drawbacks inherent in an organization composed almost entirely of Netherlanders. If the party was to be effective at all, therefore, it seemed imperative that it seek an alliance with a larger movement that would act as a bridge to the Indonesian masses. For a time the ISDV made no move in this direction, partly because the outbreak of World War I and the subsequent collapse of the Second International brought the Indies socialists into a temporary state of ideological shock. 23 For the first year or so of its existence, the ISDV restricted itself to theoretical discussions of the colonial problem and to collecting money for the socialist election effort in the Netherlands.24 Indeed, at its 1915 congress there was a strong move to allot the bullc of the party's income to the movement in Holland, and only after the congress were Sneevliet and his associates able to defeat it

The party did attempt to increase its influence by establishing a newspaper, Het Vrife Woord (The Free Word), the first issue of which appeared in October 1915.2 :1 The paper was published in Dutch. which severely limited its circulation among Indonesians-it was nearly two years before the party established an Indonesian journal-but H et Vrije Woord did provide a public platform from which the ISDV could express its view. This proved to the party's great advantage in 1916, when it secured the admiration of radically inclined Indonesians by its stand on two issues which were then creating a considerable stir among the politically conscious public. One was the arrest of a leading Indonesian journalist, Mas Marco Kartodikromo, who had published an article critical of the government attitude toward the Sarelcat Islam; 28 /-let Vrije Woorcl, like most of the Indonesian-language press, took a strong stand on Marco's side. The second issue was the lndie Weerbar ( Ann the Indies) campaign to establish an Indonesian militia under Dutch command Originally the project of Netherlanders who feared a Japanese or Australian (English) move on the archipelago during World War I, it achieved surprising popularity among the politically conscious Indonesians, a number of whom saw it as a means of persuading the Dutch to broaden their political rights. Het Vrife Woord campaigned against the scheme on the grounds that it would serve militarist and imperialist ends, and its objections were shared by those 16

Birth of the RevolutionanJ Movement Indonesians who were skeptical of the government's willingness to reward cooperation with political concessions. The Indonesians who approved of the newspaper's position should have directed their admiration to the left wing of the ISDV, for in spite of its claims to represent the party as a whole Het Vri;e Woord was virtually the organ of its revolutionary faction. Westerveld, a plodding centrist, found himself no match for the two agitators with whom he shared the editorial board, Sneevliet and Adolf Baars. The latter, a protege of Sneevliet, was the second most important of the Dutch founders of Indonesian Communism. A recent graduate of the engineering school at Delft-then considered a hotbed of Dutch student radicalism-he was employed as a teacher in the government-run technical school in Surahaja. Like Sneevliet, he was an enthusiastic revolutionary; but although he had a considerable lcnowledge of Marxist theory, his desire for revolution sprang more from a romantic and unstable nature than from lifelong dedication to the socialist cause. The result, as we shall see, was that in times of emotional crisis his enthusiasm was likely to give way to blackest despair. 27 Baars was extremely active as an editor of Het Vri;e Woord. Completely innocent of tact, he expressed himself continuously and vibiolically on its pages. His importance did not, however, lie in his accomplishments as a journalist or in his ability to alienate the moderates, but rather in his work of establishing contact with the Indonesian movements. Like Sneevliet, he was convinced of the need to agitate among the Indonesians; and he was able to accomplish more in this direction, for of all the Europeans in the ISDV he had acquired the most fluent knowledge of the Javanese and Indonesian languages. It was Baars who in 1917 established the first Indonesian-language socialist joumal.28 The paper, Soeara Merdika (The Free Voice), ceased publication after little more than a year; but Baars, undiscouraged by its failure, came forth in March 1918 with a new Indonesian-language organ, Soeara Ra';at (The People"s Voice},29 which was one day to become the .theoretical journal of the Indonesian Communist Party. Baars was also responsible for the establishment of the first Indonesian socialist group, a Surabaja-based organization that called itself Sama Rata Hindia Bergerak ( The Indies on the March toward Equality). The association was not a large one-in 1917, when it was founded, it had 120 members 80-hut even so it was nearly the size of 17

Rise of Indonesian Communism the ISDV, and it placed before the older organization a question of considerable potential importance: Would it be better to merge the Sama Rata movement with the main body of the ISDV on the principle that the socialist movement should not split on national or ethnic lines, or should the new organization be used to contain the socialists' Indonesian mass following? This question was pondered for some time by the ISDV; 81 no clear decision was made, but after about a year Sama Rata was quietly allowed to expire. One of the reasons no further action was taken on the Sama Rata movement was that the ISDV leaders had in the meantime established contacts with already existing Indonesian organizations that foreshadowed a completely different relationship between the socialist party and the mass movement. In their search for a bridge to the Indonesian population, they arrived first at an alliance with Insulinde, which was then the most radical and politically well developed of the nonEuropean organizations. The movement, which had been founded in 1907 as a nonpolitical, Eurasian-oriented association, inherited much of the membership and character of the Indische Partij after that ill-fated party's dissolution in 1913. Its radicalism derived largely from the social rejection felt by the Eurasian group from the increasingly exclusive European community and the economic threat of the growing number of educated Indonesians, who were paid a lower wage scale and thus were cheaper to hire than Eurasians. Insulinde's leaders sought to overcome this disadvantage by forming an alliance between Eurasians and educated Indonesians to secure rights equal to those of the European population. To this end they promoted an "Indies nationalism" aimed at creating a sense of common identity based on residence in the Indies rather than ethnic origin. The leaders of this movement had sought the support of the SDAP in their campaign to gain legal recognition for the Indische Partij; the socialists had listened sympathetically, but this did not prevent the banning of the party or the banishment of its principal heads-E. F. E. Douwes Dekker ( Setiabuddhi), Tjipto Mangunkusumo, and Suwardi Surjaningrat ( Ki Had jar Dewantoro )-for engaging in rebellious activity. The exiled leaders went to Holland, where they were taken up by members of the SOAP who objected to the government's abrogation of their civil rights. At the outset, therefore, there was a basis for cooperation between Insulinde and the socialists in the Indies. Moreover, although the organization was largely Eurasian, it did include 18

Birth of the Revolutionary Movement some prominent Javanese in its leadership, and in Semarang, which became its headquarters, it had a following among the urban Indonesian population. It was much larger than the ISDV, comprising some 6,000 members in 1917, and was extremely active; in addition, its Eurasian element made it more akin culturally and linguistically to the socialist group than were the purely Indonesian movements.32 In spite of these advantages, the alliance with Insulinde proved a mistake almost immediately. For one thing, the Eurasian-oriented movement was hardly a gateway to the Indonesian masses. Moreover, its socialist sympathy was admittedly opportunistic, for its leaders were openly interested in replacing the European ruling elite with one of Eurasians and educated Javanese; they therefore had little use for the radical socialists' emphasis on the class struggle and the plight of the Indonesian workers and peasants. Sneevliet, who at first had been greatly impressed by Insulinde leader Tjipto Mangunkusumo, 33 was soon attacking him for insufficient dedication to the proletarian cause, and Tjipto himself came to resent Sneevliet's efforts to turn his party in a more radical direction. 34 Within a year the alliance was out. At its June 1916 congress the ISDV decided to break off general political cooperation and requested that party members who also belonged to Insulinde cease participating in it. 35 Even before the entente with Insulinde collapsed, the ISDV revolutionaries began to look for more verdant political pastures. This time their attention was drawn to the Sarekat Islam, which by 1916 had hundreds of thousands of members and was far and away the giant among the Indonesian movements. Some Indonesian members of the ISDV had already become prominent in the Sarekat Islam, and both Sneevliet and Baars had addressed SI gatherings and stood well with the movement's leaders. 36 Nonetheless, the revolutionary ~ocialists hesitated to use this opportunity: the Islamic character of the SI and its very hazy political orientation made even the most enthusiastic proponents of mass action wonder what the ISDV could hope to accomplish with it. The increasing popularity of the Sarekat Islam persuaded them, however, that it could perhaps be seen as an Indonesian version of the Chartist movement and therefore as a fit object for socialist attention. 37 Consequently, Baars cautiously introduced the subject of a new partnership for the socialists: We are quite well aware that this group, in spite of the fact that its world view is completely inimical to the socialist one and is much more receptive

19

Rise of Indonesian Communism to bow·geois ic.leals, means great progress in the native world, if only insofar as it brings people to self-awareness and independent thought. However, the experiences we have had with Insulinde will prevent us from attempting to do missionary work in those circles which are necessarily closed to our propaganda. 38

Baars' comment had its immediate inspiration in the Si's first national congress, which was held in Surabaja in June 1916. The meeting did not show an overwhelming desire for alliance with the ISDV, since its chairman cut off the speech of the socialist spokesman Semaun after only five minutes; 38 but it did show a growing antigovemment feeling. At its founding convention three years before, the Sarekat Islam had unconditionally proclaimed its loyalty to the Dutch regime; now it cautiously began to raise the question of self-government. The congress criticized the administration's agrarian policy and considered promoting a labor movement. Moreover, it brought up the subject of amalgamating Islamic and socialist principles, an idea that was backed not only by the young radicals already attracted to the ISDV but also among leading representatives of the urban santri merchant class. "Socialism" was already becoming a word that meant, very roughly, opposition to foreign domination and support of a modern, prosperous, and independent Indonesia.40 At the 1916 congress the revolutionary cloud on the SI horizon was still exceedingly small; but within a year it threatened the original leadership's control of the movement. This sharp upsurge in the radical spirit of the Sarekat Islam reflected in good part the hardships and uncertainties that World War I was imposing on the Indies. As the war progressed, isolating the colony and restricting shipping, prices rose steeply, accentuating the decline in Indonesian real income, a decline that began in 1914 and continued until 1924. 41 The unfortunate effects of the war added greatly to the doubts of the Indonesian intelligentsia about the blessings of a foreign-controlled capitalist economy. It also made the general populace increasingly conscious of its disadvantaged position. This was particularly the case in the sugar-growing areas of Java, where the peasantry showed considerable dissatisfaction with the rents they received for land leased by the plantations. Rice harvests had been bad, and with importation hindered by the wartime shipping shortage, the price of that staple began to soar. Pinched by the general inflation and well aware of the high price they could obtain for rice, the peasants felt increasingly the in20

Birth of the Revolutionary Movement adequacy of the amounts the plantations paid to lease irrigated land. 42 The prospects for ISDV influence over the Sarekat Islam, enhanced by this general discontent, were further aided by a structural peculiarity of the mass organization. The Sarekat Islam, it happened, was a body whose head was attached by the most insubstantial of necks. We will remember that in 1913 the Governor General had refused to charter the organization on a national basis. Each branch of the Sarekat Islam therefore enjoyed independent status, and the central leadership was forced to carry on in the form of a coordinating board called the Central Sarekat Islam (CSI). Idenburg recognized the movement nationally in 1916, in one of his last acts of office; but by that time its charter was already set, and CSI authority over the branches remained extremely weak. As a result of this loose organization, a forceful local leadership found little to prevent it from propagating its ideas within the rest of the movement. Even this might have done the ISDV very little good if it had had to seek an ordinary political alliance with the Sarekat Islam, for the socialist organization was still small, wealc, largely European, and so divided on the question of its task in the Indies that it was unable to publish a political program. However, another structural condition-shared by most political movements in the Indies-made it possible for the revolutionaries to function not only alongside the Sarekat Islam as representatives of their own party but also within it as members of the SI itself. This was the practice of holding membership in two or more parties at once, a custom which seems to have arisen because most Indonesian movements had not begun as political parties per se. The right of political association and assembly in the Indies was denied by Article III of the Regeringsreglement ( Government Regulation), which had functioned as the colony's constitution since 1854. Article 68c of the Decentralization Law of 1903 removed the prohibition for organizations and meetings exclusively intended for recommending members for the local and regional councils established by this act. It was not until 1915 that the general right to political association and assembly was recognized, however, and not until three years later that its limits were defined by law. 48 Although the local councils established by the Decentralization Law contained elected members after 1908, suffrage was at first limited exclusively to those of European status; it was later extended to Indonesians, but only to a severely restricted gr011p. There was thm. little reason for the Indone-

21

Rise of Indonesian Communism sians to organize for electoral purposes before 1918: even the Indies Europeans seem to have seen little need to do so, for they showed no notable interest in political party formation at this time. This meant that the early Indonesian organizations were founded not as parties but as organizations to promote various social, cultural, and economic interests; inevitably they were politically oriented, since their concerns involved government policy and reflected attitudes toward the colonial relationship, but they did not possess the exclusive character of political parties. Membership in one group did not preclude membership in another; particularly among the educated elite, it was common for individuals to join as many groups as promoted projects of interest to them. It was thus possible for members of the ISDV to belong to Budi Utomo, lnsulinde, or the Sarekat I s l ~ d occasionally to all four. As we shall see, this peculiarity of early Indonesian political structure was to inspire the Comintern's "'bloc within" strategy, whereby Communist party members entered a mass movement and worked to seize control of it from within. In its initial Indonesian phase, however, dual membership was less useful in bringing ISDV members into the Sarekat Islam-the European revolutionaries did not become members of the Muslim organization 44-than in bringing gifted young SI radicals into the ISDV and guiding them in a revolutionary socialist direction. Sneevliet and Baars were very successful in this, and they soon gathered a coterie of young idealists who were troubled by opportunism and dishonesty in the CSI leadership and who found an inspiring alternative in the uncompromising "scientific" idealism preached by their revolutionary mentors. The most prominent figure in this early group of Indonesian Marxists was Semaun, who was the ISDV's spokesman at the 1916 SI congress. Born near Surabaja, the son of a minor railroad official and himself a railroad employee, he was an early member of the Sarekat Islam, joining its Surabaja branch in 1914 and shortly thereafter becoming that chapter's secretary. He soon became involved in union work in the railroads, which brought him notoriety as one of Indonesia's first labor agitators; it also brought him in contact with Sneevliet, who was then beginning his work with the VSTP. Semaun admired the efforts of the European revolutionary on behalf of the Indonesian workers, and in 1915 he joined the ISDV; a year later he was vice-chairman of its Surabaja branch. Semaun was very young when he rose to prominence

.22

Birth of' the Revolutionary Movement in the revolutionary movement; in 1916, when he first enters our story, he was seventeen years old. 411 Shortly after the Sarekat Islam congress of 1916 Semaun was transferred by his employers from Surabaja, the headquarters of the CSI, to Semarang, the stamping ground of Sneevliet and the VSTP. The Central Javanese capital already possessed a well-organized SI branch, which was much under radical influence. Semaun gave the group a talented and fiery spokesman; at the same time the young revolutionary's position in the SI was considerably enhanced by his association with this dynamic political machine. The Semarang SI expanded rapidly, claiming 1,700 members in 1916 and 20,000 a year later. 48 Almost immediately it developed into a rival of the Surabaja organization: its appeals, expressed in the newspaper .Sinar Dfawa (later Sinar Hindia), were directed primarily at the urban SI branches and stressed more radical demands for social and economic justice than were expressed by Tjokroaminoto's Oetoesan Hindia, the unofficial organ of the CSL The Semarang SI leadership devoted nearly as much energy to criticizing the CSI leadership as it did to condemning the government and foreign capital. Semaun attacked the CSl's planned participation in the Volksraad, a consultative assembly being set up by the government as a first step toward political representation, and he also led a campaign against the Indie Weerbar action, which had support from important leaders of the Surabaja organization. The struggle over Indie Weerbar greatly agitated Sarekat Islam circles, particularly when the CSI elected to send one of its members, Abdul Muis, to the Netherlands as part of a delegation to plead for an Indonesian militia. The Semarang SI led the protest against the CSI action, and shortly before the Sarekat Islam congress of 1917 it announced that it would offer a resolution against the Indie W eerbar effort. Incensed, the CSI informed the Semarang branch that unless the resolution was withdrawn, it would break off connections with that local. Semarang replied that if the central leadership did not behave, Semarang might very well start its own SI center. 47 This crisis coincided with a threatened break between the Sarekat Islam and the ISDV. The CSI had become increasingly upset at the dog-in-the-manger attitude taken by the ISDV, which in one breath professed a burning desire to cooperate and in the next unmercifuJJy criticized the CSI leaders. The Muslims finally had enough when Baars

23

Rise of Indonesian Communism violently attacked the SI leaders in a public debate on the tender subject of Indie Weerbar. 48 The CSI decided to demand at the Sarebt Islam congress of October 1917 that all relatiom with the ISDV be cut off. 411 The prospect of losing their &le with the Indonesian movement threw the radical leaders of the ISDV into something of a panic. Sneevliet, calling on the SI heads to reconsider, assured them of the socialists' upright intentions: "Personally oppose you? Dispute your leadership over your organization?-What nonsense." But, chronically incapable of compromise, be ended his appeal with an attack on the SI leadership as violent as any before.GO As it turned out, the socialists need not have worried. At the congress it was apparent that Semarang had strong backing among the other SI branches, and Tjokroaminoto, whose instinct was to preserve unity at all costs, backed down. The proposals to deal with the ISDV and the Semarang SI were quietly buried, and although the congress did not adopt the radicals' view on Indie Weerbar and the Volksraad, CSI spokesman Abdul Muis did take a long step in their direction by announcing that if parliamentary action should prove unfruitful, the Sarekat Islam would not hesitate to revolt. Moreover, the congress condemned •sinful"-that is, foreign-capitalism and demanded freedom of political organization, radically improved labor and agrarian legislation, and free public education.'11 The revolutionaries thus won their first round with the SI leadership in a game of bluff that was the pattern for relations between the two groups for the next few years. The upsurge of radical power continued, owing partly to good organization and propaganda work by Semarang and partly to the increasing importance the CSI itself attached to its big-city branches. The major reason for this turning toward the urban centers was the realiution of the SI leaders that their rural base was at best undependable. Although the movement's claimed membership continued to rise steeply-reaching a peak of two and one-half million in 1919-this increase was largely illusory. Membership was acquired with a low initiation fee; after that, contributions were appreciated but not required. As a result the rolls recorded those who joined and not those who lost interest. In consequence, many branches that flourished on paper had simply faded out of existence in reality. This problem was most acute in the countryside, where, we will remember, the peasants looked to the movement to secure the redress of their grievances. They joined the SI in droves and overwhelmed its

24

Birth of the Revolutionary Movement

very

soon became apparent to units with their demands. However, it them that the local SI leaders-who possessed little education or organizational knowledge and who were usually regarded unfavorably by both European and native ofBcials--were no more able to secure satisfaction than were the traditional village leaders. Disappointed, the rural SI adherents lost interest almost as rapidly as they joined. The ephemeral nature of the movement's peasant membership was already becoming apparent during 1916, and this led the SI leaders to attach increasing importance to the urban branches, which were usually better organized, more active, and further to the left. 112 Semarang's threat to start a rival SI center was thus doubly alarming, and CSI concessions to the left in 1917 and after were aimed not only at placating Semaun and his following but also at drawing to itseH as much urban loyalty as it could. The ISDV radicals were jubilant at the results of the 1917 SI congress: We merely wish to point out that it has become clear, particularly in the last two days of the congress, that if the SI leadership wishes to preserve its mass following it will have to devote its greatest attention to the deeply felt economic needs of its exploited masses and to the radical economic and social reforms which alone can alleviate their suJfering. It has also been proved that our outspoken campaign against the political puttering of the central leadership gave it a powerful push in the direction of this insight; had we not brought forth this criticism, had we, in order to preserve our "influence," tagged along uncomplainingly behind that leadership and only agitated in a "diplomatic" manner, the CSI would never have learned this obvious lesson.113

The ISDV bad every reason to rejoice in this upswing in its fortunes, for it had recently undergone a crisis that had weakened it considerably but left it revolutionarily more pure. Only a few weeks before the party had been sundered by a final split between the moderate and revolutionary socialists. A breach between the two groups had long been pending, and since March of that year relations between them had been extremely bitter. The occasion of the March disagreement had been the overthrow of the Russian Tsar, news of which reached Indonesia on the evening of March 18, 1917. Sneevliet immediately sat down to write an impassioned article, "Zegepraal" (Triumph), which appeared the following day in the Insulinde paper De lndier. In it, he strongly hinted that 25

Rise of Indonesian Communism Dutch rule in the Indies would go the way of the Tsar if only the Indonesians set their minds to it. The article horri.6ed the socialist moderates and, more important for its general impact, it alarmed the colonial authorities. The government promptly took measures to prosecute Sneevliet and to suppress discussion of the uprising, its efforts serving to make the Russian revolution a cause celebre in Indonesia. Shortly after the first news of the revolt, the Semarang executives of the ISDV and Insulinde asked official permission to hold an open meeting at which the revolution would be discussed; the request was refused on the ground that not enough was yet lcnown about the event to form the basis for objective discussion; a later petition by the Semarang ISDV was denied without explanation. When lnsulinde asked government permission to form a new branch in Bandung, this was granted only on condition that it not discuss the Russian revolution or invite Sneevliet to address it. In Surabaja an ISDV request to discuss the Tsar's overthrow publicly was refused because such a meeting would constitute "a gathering of political nature which would, in addition, form a threat to the public peace and order in this colony." 114 Sneevliet's bial lent additional publicity to the March Revolution. The public prosecutor's attempt to bring the socialist leader to trial was denied by the Semarang courts; only when the case reached the Indies Supreme Court was it decided the grounds were sufficient for prosecu~ tion. The trial took place in November; Sneevliet conducted his own defense, which consisted mainly of an impassioned anticolonial speech lasting nine hours. 1111 It won him both considerable publicity and an acquittal; the state was unable to reopen the case, though it appealed the decision up to the Supreme Court.11 Sneevliet, of course, enjoyed privileged civil status as a European; nonetheless, it was generally characteristic of the colonial authorities to exercise widely varying control over political expression. Authoritarian colonial attitudes were mingled with the precepts of Dutch parliamentary democracy; the result was not so much a compromise between the two as the inconsistent application of the one philosophy or the other, depending largely on which individual or branch of government decided the case. As a result, people were jailed for the mildest criticisms, while at the same time outspoken revolutionaries urged the overthrow of the government with impunity. Since the reaction of the authorities to criticism depended largely on their philosophy of colonial government, the leeway for political expression was far greater in the major 26

Birth of the Revolutionary Movement cities-especially in Ethically inclined Semarang, which acquired a moderate socialist mayor, D. de Jongh, in 1916-and this gave the urban radicals an edge in efforts at winning popularity through boldness. Though Sneevliet won the government trial handily, be had more difficulty in gaining acquittal from the ISDV moderates. The Batavia branch, which beaded the gradualist wing of the party, published a declaration denouncing the revolutionary activity of the radicals: It was Marx who, in dealing with revolutionary romanticists and half-bourgeois anarchists, proclaimed that only at a certain economic phase and through organization and political education is a fruitful action possible-an action which docs not work with revolutionary phrases, but is directed at formulating demands which proceed directly and logically from the social needs of the community. . . . It is the task of the Indies social democrats to teach this naive and easily aroused population to control itself though organization and discipline in the struggle for its goals. We social democrats ought not only to take the firmest possible stand against the rulers whenever they misuse their economic and political power, but also against those Europeans who, driven exclusively by political passion, hold the people back from their historical course of development. We should also oppose those who, ignoring the unity of the native population groups necessary for the achievement of national independence and freedom, drive a wedge into it through their so-called socialist intemationalism. 117 At the party congress in May, the Batavia leader Schotman repeated the Revisionist objections to promoting revolution and urged the ISDV to consider seriously the realities of its situation. As an organization, he pointed out, the party was small, isolated, and ineffective, lacking even a program to call its own; its only hope for a meaningful existence lay in affiliating with the SDAP as its Indies branch. The centrists under Westerveld agreed with Schotman's criticism, but they feared to force a crisis with the left by supporting his motion to join the Dutch party. The revolutionaries made their standpoint quite clear: Semaun declared that if Schotman's plans were accepted, he, among others, would resign; and Sneevliet bore his usual witness for the class struggle, for cooperation with the SI, and for mass revolutionary agitation. 58 Those hopelessly diverging viewpoints were reconciled by a compromise, the only visible purpose of which was to postpone the schism as long as possible. The congress determined that "premature resistance" should not be encouraged, and at the same time it pronounced that

Zl

Rise of Indonesian Communism Sneevliet was innocent of engaging in such activity. In return for Sneevliet's acquittal, the left approved ISDV participation in the forthcoming Volksraad election. This agreement did not prevent the radicals -and particularly Semaun-from going right ahead with their campaign against the Volksraad Moreover, the continuing efforts of the revolutionaries to push the Indonesian movements in a radical direction were seriously alienating the leaders of those groups, and the ISDV moderates, although they were not interested in agitation among the Indonesian masses, did desire constructive cooperation with the heads of the Indonesian organizations. We have seen that relations between the ISDV and CSI were nearly terminated in 1917. Those with Insulinde were actually severed: the parties had cooperated against lndie Weerbar and in some local election campaigns after the breakdown of their formal alliance the year before, but Sneevliet's criticisms proved too much for the Insulinde leadership, which announced on August 30, 1917, that all relations with the socialists were at an end.:19 For the ISDV moderates, this was the last straw. On September 8 they resigned en masse and established the Indies SOAP. Westerveld and some other centrists hung on to the older organization, but their influence on it was minimal and at the end of the year they went over to the moderate group.60 By the time of the November Revolution, then, the ISDV was reduced to a group essentially Communist in attitude. We might therefore expect the party to have greeted the Bolshevik seizure of power with clamorous approval, especially after the great publicity accorded the overthrow of the Tsar. However, the ISDV responded to the news of the second revolution almost hesitantly. Reports of the Russian uprising trickled slowly through to the Indies; it was not until late in November that the first news of it was published in Het Vrife Woord. 61 The early accounts left the ISDV in the dark as to the outcome of the revolt, and this was undoubtedly a major reason for its cautious handling of the news. Succeeding communiques brought increased hope, however, and soon Baars was able to write: The hope that we almost dared not cherish, the expectation that we almost dared not express-so impossible did it seem to us here in this land, where capitalism still reigns supreme and where our small group is just beginning to form the organization that will do battle with it-all this has become deep, joyful certainty. The proletariat now rules in Russia, at least for the time being. And every day of rest, of proletarian order, makes its mastery more secure. 82 28

Birth of the Revolutionary Movement For the European revolutionaries in the Indies, the November Revolution meant the justification of their stubborn refusal to be dissuaded by arguments of Indonesia's backwardness, its lack of a proletariat, and the absence of nearly all the factors assumed necessary for a socialist revolution. Elsewhere in Europe there were signs of coming revolt, and the ISDV could hope that the wave of the revolution would sweep over Holland and perhaps even wash the shores of the Indies. The mercurial Baars, who was finding the frustration of colonial life increasingly difficult to bear, seized upon the Communist victory in Russia with desperate enthusiasm. On Christmas Day, 1917, he exhorted a rally in Batavia: The lower classes must be organized! You must organize now, the Russian example must be followed now. . . . Do as in Russia and the victory is yours! 83

As party chairman, he announced the ISDV's commitment to the Bolshevik pattern at its May 1918 congress: The Russian Revolution naturally dominates our thoughts at present. I do not believe-to judge from reports in the European socialist papers-that there is any group of socialists which is more strongly under the inHuence of the Russian movement than we ourselves. . . . We, too, must take the path which the Bolsheviki have chosen, even though the situation here is different. Where capitalism exists, socialism is also possible.84

In the same speech Baars mourned that in the light of events in Europe, ..it is bitter to be doomed to helplessness here." 86 The ISDV, however, had been far from inactive in response to the Bolshevik Revolution. At the end of 1917, it began organizing soldiers' and sailors' soviets on the Russian example; and within three months it had gathered over 3,000 members into this movement. 88 The Red Guardist action began among the sailors and was centered at Surabaja, the major naval base of the Indies. It soon spread to the soldiery, however, and although its existence was evidenced more by alarming rumors than visible activity, it caused the government considerable concern. At that time the Indies army consisted of some 9,000 Europeans, 10,000 A.mbonese, 18,000 Javanese, and 3,000 other Indonesians-a force the modest size of which had for some time worried Dutch residents of the Indies. The European officers were felt to be reliable, but the Ambonese were _restless; the Javanese were not notably enthusiastic soldiers and might well prove less than loyal if it came to putting down a revolt on their island. The Dutch common soldiers had little love for the 29

Rise of Indonesian Communism Indonesian population, but they also had little reason to identify with the European civilians, who treated them as outcasts not much better than the natives. The government realized that their enthusiasm for the Red Guardist action stemmed in good part &om deep resentment of their position, and it instituted measures to improve their social and economic status. Such reforms took time to achieve, however, and with the growing momentum of the socialist revolutionary movement in Europe, it became problematical whether they might not come too late to prevent military apathy or alignment with the socialists in a bid for power. At the May 1918 ISDV congress, the party discussed how best to encourage "revolutionary defeatism" as Lenin had done, arguing that if the colonial troops could generally be persuaded not to fight, the Red Guardists could seize power handily.117 At the same meeting the party, finally possessing a consensus in the absence of the socialist moderates, drew up its first program of demands 118 and attempted to formulate a policy of work among the Indonesian masses. The debate engendered on the latter subject gives us a glimpse into the party's early struggles with a question that was to perplex many a Communist leader-how to deal with nationalism. The ISDV executive proposed that the party's statement of purpose declare: The Indies Social Democratic Association aims at the organization of the Indies population, especially the proletariat and the peasantry and without regard to race or religion, into an independent poli_tical party which will lead the class struggle in its native land against a ruling capitalist class of foreign race, thereby carrying on the only possible struggle for national liberation. It gives all possible support to every economic and political movement of the subject population insofar as those movements strengthen the position of that population against the ruling class.118

The Semarang group moved that the world-wide character of the movement should be emphasized by cutting out the reference to oppressors of "foreign race" and by adding that the party's struggle against the ruling class in the Indies would "strengthen the international class struggle and at the same time lead the only possible struggle for national liberation." Surabaja, however, felt that even this did not go far enough, and wished to cross out the entire reference to national liberation. It was only after a heated debate that the Surabaja 30

Birth of the Revolutionary Movement branch was satisfied that the ISOV would continue to value economic revolution above national liberation and the declaration, as amended by Semarang, was adopted. 70 Not surprisingly, the chief opposition to the Surabaja position came from the ISDV central executive, dominated by Sneevliet and Baars, and from the party's Indonesian members, who wished to maintain the statement in its original form. That they were not able to prevail was in good part because the European members of the ISOV-with the notable exceptions of Sneevliet, Baars, and the VSTP leader Bergsmawere ill-equipped by language or interests to work among the Indonesian population. For the most part they occupied themselves with discussions of Marxist theory, observation of events in Europe, and agitation among fellow Indies Europeans. Typically, the work that most engaged their energies, the Red Guardist action, revolved around a Dutch-speaking part of the population; similarly, the party's first May Day celebration, held in Surabaja in 1918, was considered of interest only to Europeans, and no Indonesians attended. The Bolshevik victory and the increasing hopes for revolution in Europe brought new energy and influence to this Europocentric faction, and at the 1918 congress they succeeded in moving party headquarters from Semarang, center of activity among the Indonesians, to Surabaja, its largest European branch and the most radically internationalist of its divisions.11 Economic conditions in the Indies worsened during 1918, as rice harvests remained poor and the shipping shortage reached an acute stage. The Indonesian parties were more critical of the government and produced a disturbing flood of criticism in the first Volksraad debates. In Holland the SOAP, hitherto a small minority, emerged as the second largest party in elections to the lower house of parliament; the new cabinet was right of center, and the socialist opposition to it assumed an increasingly rebellious aspect. In November, inspired by the German revolution, the SOAP leader Troelstra preached revolt from his post in parliament. The first reports of the Troelstra Revolution threw the Indies government into something of a panic, for their incompleteness lent considerable scope to the imagination. Rumors circulated that the SOAP was organizing a seizure of power in the Indies, and a police watch was set on the house of Cramer, head of the Volksraad socialists, for it was thought that he would lead the march on the Governor General's palace to demand power in the name of the SOAP. 72 31

Rise of Indonesian Communism The Indies SOAP had no thought of seizing control unless a Dutch socialist government authorized it to do so, but it responded to the news of events in the Netherlands by calling a meeting of SI, Budi Utomo, and Insulinde representatives to formulate a plan of action. The conference, which met on November 16, agreed that the movements would urge their foUowers to maintain peace but at the same time would press the government to turn the Volksraad into a popularly elected parliament within the next three years. 73• Not aU groups were so inclined to the parliamentary path. Demonstrations were organized by the Red Guardists among the European soldiers and sailors, and there were scuffles with the police. H On the pages of the ISDV Soeara Ra';at, Darsono urged his fel1ow Indonesians to follow· the Russian example: "It is not the ruler who has the power, but the people. Let the RED FLAG fly everywhere, the sign of HUMANITY, EQUALITY, and FRATERNITY. What can stop the common man if once he begins to rebel? Let the red Bag wave!" 711 The CSI Oetoe-. san Hindia published his writings approvingly, noting that if the government did not concede extensive reforms immediately, revolution might well be the result. 78 Even the Indonesian revolutionaries placed their hopes in events in Europe rather than the Indies, however. As Semaun indicated in the left SI Sinar Hindia, the chances for violence lay in colonial resistance to a Dutch socialist regime rather than in Indonesian rebellion itself: There will undoubtedly be an attempt [to set up a separate Indies capitalist regime], but there are also socialists such as Sneevliet and Baars in the Indies. These comrades, who have many followers among the sailors from the warships and among a great part of the European soldiers, have fellow party members in the SI and thereby can reckon on the support of thousands of natives, among them many policemen in the cities and native soldiers, many of whom are now members of the SI. Undoubtedly the Sneevliet party will gather all its forces to carry out the mandate which the socialists in the Netherlands will send. AND WE BELIEVE nuT EVEN so IT WILL COME TO A PARTICULARLY SHARP STRUGGLE HEBE IN TilE INDIES. 77

Semaun did not envision a complete divorce from the Dutch as the outcome of a socialist victory. The native socialist movement was stiU too weak, he pointed out, and it was lilcely that the leadership of the country would fall into the hands of those who would turn it over to capitalism: -rherefore we must ask the help of socialists such as Sneevliet, Baars, and Brandsteder, and of the [European] sailors and sol32

Birth of the Revolutionary Movement diers, so that capitalists from countries like Japan and England will not invade Our newly liberated country." 78 The November crisis passed as quickly as it had come. The Indies opposition was restless but not ready for revolt; in Holland the Troelstra Revolution fizzled out in a shower of rhetorical sparks. As soon as he received word that the Dutch government would not fall, Governor General van Limbug Stirum pacified local tempers with broad but vague promises of reform.i 9 Soon thereafter a reaction set in among the governments of the Netherlands and the Indies; determined that such challenges to their authority should not rise again, they took steps to consolidate their position which were to lead to the abandonment of almost all the envisioned reforms and to the adoption of a far less tolerant attitude toward extremist agitation. The government revival of confidence was matched by deepening despair in the ISDV. Its hopes had been based so completely on a Dutch revolution that the European leadership of the movement sank into a depression that bordered on paralysis. As Sneevliet later remarked, the end of 1918 closed the ISDV's first period of growth. After that the party was forced to face the unpleasant facts that the German revolution would not spread to the Netherlands, that the Indonesian leaders were at least temporarily taken with Van Limburg Stirum's November promises, and that the government was now moving seriously against the revolutionaries. 80

33

III

Becoming a Communist Party ONCE the general situation was in hand, the government turned its attention to the Red Guardist action as the most intolerable challenge to its authority. Stiff sentences were imposed on members of the armed forces who refused duty or were suspected of fomenting trouble, and civilian leaders who were in government service were transferred to out-of-the-way pbces or expelled from the Indies. By the end of 1919, the movement was virtually dead. 1 At the same time, the authorities took steps to rid themselves of their most outspoken political opponents, expelling the Dutch ISDV leaders one by one from the country. 2 The first to go was Sneevliet, for whom expulsion proceedings were initiated as soon as it seemed certain the Dutch government would survive. That revolutionary had long irritated Indonesian as well as government leaders,3 but in the heated atmosphere of November 1918 the Indonesian opposition promptly adopted him as its martyr. 4 The government added to the drama of Sneevliet's departure by taking elaborate security measures to prevent possible riots,11 and it strengthened the Indonesians' feeling of solidarity with him by following up his banishment with the arrest of Darsono, Abdul Muis, and a succession of lesser Indonesian figures. Semaun used the burst of sympathy for his departed mentor to extract promises of financial support not only from the ISDV and VSTP but also from the CSI. The purpose of his move was to provide Sneevliet with aid until he found employment and also to solidify the connections between the Indonesian mass movement and the European socialist revolutionaries; but since the quid pro quo was that Sneevliet would represent his supporters in the Netherlands it also gave the departed leader a basis for speaking internationally in their name.• Shortly after Sneevliet's departure, Baars abandoned the Indies of 34

Becoming a Communist Party his own free will. He had lost his teaching job in October 1917, when the government decided that his political utterances had exceeded the permissible limits for those in its employ. After that he devoted full time to running the ISDV and Het Vrife Woord, but this revolutionary activity was not enough to satisfy him. Unlike Sneevliet, who alternated between enthusiasm and distress but never abandoned faith in his work in Indonesia, Baars finally lost both his temper and his interest. Convinced that his calling lay with the revolution in Europe, he set forth to tilt at the Dutch bourgeoisie: Oh, there is so much that is depressing. Naturally, that is no reason in itseH to leave. However, if you do not possess at the same time the 6rm conviction that you cannot do better work elsewhere, if, on the contrary, you are continually overcome by the passionate desire to join in the struggle abroad, where you could 6ght in another and better fashion and with greater understanding from others-then your strength is consumed by doubts, strength that is not renewed by the warm sympathy of those you are struggling to help. . . . I often said to Sneevliet that a European can't hold out in the tropics in this manner. And really, if I had had to stay in that deadly hot Semarang another few years, with after my day's work the directing, conferring, meeting, speaking, etc., etc.-all this with the same result we have achieved up to now, namely that the masses applaud but are not ready to do anythingno, I think that I would have broken down completely in mind and body. If it had been necessary I would have perhaps made even this sacri6ce; but as it is-if I must sacrince myself, then I'll do it in the heat of battle.7 The rest of 1919 was a series of disasters for the European members of the ISDV, for during the course of the year the government imprisoned, banished, or instituted proceedings against most of them. Loss of their best leaders, arrest and fear of arrest, and discouragement at the failure of the revolutionary movements in Europe and Indonesia all diminished the Dutch role in the ISDV, which many of its European members regarded as a dying movement. 8 By early 1920 the number of active Dutch members of the organization was reduced to a fraction of what it had been. Had the fate of the ISDV depended on its Dutch leadership, the party would now have faced dissolution. What took place, however, was not the degeneration of a vital center but the atrophy of a now unnecessary limb. The reason for this was a change in the substance of the party that had been taking place since 1917. In that year, we will 35

Rise of Indonesian Communism remember, the ISDV lost a good part of its membership as a result of the splitting off of its less radical elements. Those who left were mostly Dutch; those who entered thereafter were Indonesian. Beginning in late 1917, ISDV membership began to increase as a result of Semarang's victory at the Sarekat Islam congress, the party's first major effort to gain converts throughout Java,• and the discontent created by the increasingly bad economic situation. In addition, the decision of the May 1918 congress to establish the ISDV as an Indonesian movement in its own right caused the party to make a special effort to attract Indonesian adherents without too much regard for whether they understood or even approved of the movement's Communist goals. The result was an extremely rapid expansion of membership,1° which gave the ISDV some of the character-and some of the problems-of a mass movement. It also complicated relations between the central executive and the party branches, since the Europeans kept firm control of the center, while the branches gave more prominence to their Indonesian adherents. 11 Whether the European leaders would in the normal course of things have yielded gracefully their control of the ISDV is an open question. This was certainly their ultimate intention, but whether their ideas about the proper timing and extent of the transfer of power agreed with those of their Indonesian colleagues is quite another matter. This particular problem was avoided, however, by the gradual expulsion of the European leaders from the colony. Fortunately for the ISDV, its Indonesian adherents possessed the talent, if not the experience, to enable them to replace the absent Europeans. In addition to Semaun, the party had acquired a 6rst-class leader in Darsono, a young Javanese aristocrat who had dropped in on Sneevliet's trial in 1917 and been converted on the spot to revolutionary socialism. He was one of Sneevliet's closest co-workers during that leader's last year in the Indies, and he was also closely associated with Baars and the labor organizer Bergsma. Darsono was one of the few Indonesian Communist leaders to make a serious study of Marxism; indeed, he frequently had trouble adjusting his Western Communist ideas to Eastern conditions. He was a great admirer of the Bolshevik Revolution, which he enthusiastically urged his fellow Indonesians to emulate; this led, in December 1918, to his arrest and a year's imprisonment.12 · The Indonesian leaders of the ISDV devoted particular attention to

36

Becoming a Communist

Party

developing relations with the Sarekat Islam, to which they also belonged. They were aided by deteriorating economic conditions and general restlessness in 1918, which bad a considerable effect on the spirit of the SI. The extent to which ISDV slogans found response in the popular movement was indicated by the temper of the 1918 Sarekat Islam congress, which was distinctly revolutionary: not only· did the meeting protest sharply against the authorities, but it based its attaclc on the charge that the government was the protector of "sinful"

capitalism.11 The ISDV also improved its position within the Sarekat Islam at this meeting, as at the SI congress the previous year, by means of a threat from Semarang to split the movement Shortly before the 1918 SI meeting, Darsono bad written a series of articles attacking the prominent anti-Semarang CSI leader Abdul Muis, and Semaun issued a pamphlet accusing Muis of having feathered his financial nest by supporting Indie Weerbar. 14 Muis' position at that time was rather delicate, since he had become the editor of Nerat;a, a newspaper that was known to rely financially on the govemment. 10 In it he published a series of articles arguing that a restriction of sugar plantation acreage in the interests of increased rice production-then urged by the SI and other Indonesian parties in the face of a growing food shortage-would not advance the public welfare. This was a highly unpopular stand to take, and the Javanese SI leaders questioned whether Muis' Sumatran heart was really with their people. For a while it seemed possible that Muis would be dropped from the CSI at its 1918 congress, and the radicals' concerted attack on him aimed at encouraging such a rejection. However, Muis toured Sumatra just before the meeting and was greeted there with great enthusiasm; he thus appeared at the SI congress as the head of a powerful Outer Island faction. The CSI was now faced with a very nasty problem: if it met Muis' demands, Semarang might secede; if it yielded to the leftists, the increasingly important Outer Island branches might well form their own movement. The Muis-Semarang fight erupted as soon as the congress opened, and Tjokroaminoto quickly called a closed session of the CSI to settle it before the breach became irreparable. As a result, Darsono and Semaun promised to cease their personal attacks on Muis, who, in turn, promised to follow the SI and not the government line in running Nerat;a. Muis was kept on as vice-president of the CSI, and the Semarang branch was satisfied by the appointment of Darsono as official CSI

37

Rise of Indonesian Communism propagandist and of Semaun as CSI commissioner in charge of Central Java. 11 This last nomination represented a significant advance for the ISOV, for it meant that the most popular and able of the Indonesian leftist leaders now held a powerful position in the directorate of the Sarekat Islam. 11 During 1919 the Indonesian ISOV leaders increased their efforts to influence the Sarekat Islam in a radical direction, and the economic situation continued to aid their project By this time inRation and poor harvests were bringing conditions of near famine to some areas. The rice shortage was so severe that the government instituted compulsory grain collection, which caused considerable resentment among peasants who did not want to part with their crop at the government price. In 1918, the Sarekat Islam had begun a campaign to transfer a part of the land under contract to sugar plantations to the peasants for growing rice; this was supported by Governor General van Limburg Stirum, who considered such a measure necessary until rice shipments were received from abroad. The sugar interests were by no means amenable, however, since they were counting on the very high prices their product would bring on the postwar market, and to the Indonesians' distress the Governor General did not feel he could impose more than moral suasion on the industry. The SI, Budi Utomo, Insulinde, and Indies SOAP sponsored a Volksraad motion to petition the Dutch parliament to restrict the sugar acreage, but the conservative Indonesian regents and nonsocialist Europeans in the assembly combined to defeat the proposal. The SOAP in Holland thereupon introduced it into parliament itself, but only the Ethically inclined Vrijzinnige Oemocratische Partij supported it. The sole result was that the Governor General appointed a commission of inquiry into conditions in the sugar areas, on which Tjokroaminoto was invited to sit; its report was not ready until 1921, by which time the crisis was long past. 18 Whether or not restriction of sugar acreage would have ameliorated the immediate food problem, the Indonesian parties attached a great deal of importance to it, and their failure to achieve any satisfaction on the subject caused them to view the Indies government more than ever as the servant of Dutch capital. Even cautious, upper-class Budi Utomo took on a radical tint and at its 1919 congress expressed a desire for closer contact with the masses. Rallies held in Batavia to protest the refusal to limit sugar acreage and the use of force in government rice collections were supported not only by Insulinde, the SI, ISDP, and 38

Becoming a Communist Party Budi Utomo but also by the conservative regional associations Sarekat Sumatra ( Sumatranenbond) and Pasundan. 19 In the rural areas there were increasing signs of dissatisfaction. Peasants in the sugar districts set fire to cane fields, in the famine-struck region of Kediri troops had to be called in to combat disorder, and in West Java the forced rice collections produced a series of incidents. More alarming to the government than these sporadic and unplanned disturbances, however, was the apparent involvement of Indonesian political groups in resistance movements. The first to be accused was Insulinde, which associated itself in early 1919 with agrarian unrest in the Surakarta region of Central Java. In recent years the government had been endeavoring to put through agrarian reforms in this princely territory so as to bring conditions in line with those in the directly administered regions. The reforms proceeded very slowly, and many peasants were disturbed at their delay, particularly in the matter of substituting a direct tax for the burdensome corvee duties. Others objected to their taking place at all, for they substituted incomprehensible requirements for the personal and familiar relationships of that highly traditional area. The result was general discontent, in the form of refusal to render corvee duties: the reformists claimed that their preservation was unjustified, and the traditionalists argued that they had not been sanctioned as before by customary decrees ( peranatan). The movement, which lasted some six months, was headed by Hadji Misbach, who was the de facto leader of Insulinde in the Surakarta region as well as an active SI member and vicepresident of the ISDV-sponsored PKBT, a union of peasants and agricultural workers. The national leadership of Insulinde took considerable interest in his efforts; Tjipto Mangunkusumo and Douwes Dekker both made propaganda tours of the area. The government decided that Insulinde was responsible for the change of peasant dissatisfaction into concrete protest; Hadji Misbach and Douwes Dekker were arrested, and Tjipto Mangunkusumo was banished from the Javanese-speaking areas of the island. 20 A conBict over corvee also broke out in Celebes at this time, and although it was less widespread than the Surakarta passive-resistance movement, it was viewed more seriously by the authorities because it resulted in the murder of a European official. This time the Sarekat Islam was held responsible. That organization had appeared in the Outer Islands as a reform movement demanding greater legal rights for 39

Rise of Indonesian Communism the population and a decrease in the power of the petty autonomous rulers; one of its principal projects was the substitution of taxation for corvee, which the government had already undertaken in the directly administered areas of Java. The Sarekat Islam made considerable headway on Celebes in the face of opposition from the association of adat rulers ( Pcrkumpulan Radja), which was backed, as usual, by the local European advisers on the grounds that reforms, even when contemplated by the government, should not challenge the structure of customary authority. In May 1919 Abdul Muis toured the island on behalf of the CSI; his visit sparked new enthusiasm for the movement, and in some areas people began to refuse to render corvee. A month after Muis' trip, the Dutch contrdleur De Kat Angelino was lcilled in Toli-toli when he visited that center of unrest to enforce the corvee obligations. The Sarekat Islam as a whole was considered at fault, and proceedings were instituted against Muis for having instigated the assassination by his visit. 21 The Toli-toli incident was particularly distressing to the Ethici, for the murdered official had been considered a progressive man who had tried to improve local conditions as well as shore up traditional rule. Moreover, Muis-a member of the Volksraad, opponent of Semarang, and former editor of Nerat;a-had been thought one of the more reasonable of the Sarekat Islam leaders. If even he were to contribute to so serious a breach of the peace, was it not likely that the conservatives had been right in warning that the Ethical program was dangerously utopian in tolerating an Indonesian opposition? These suspicions seemed to be confirmed the very next month, for in July the government, investigating the shooting of a Garut peasant family that had resisted the forced rice collections, discovered the existence of a secret SI organization that appeared to aim at the overthrow of the government. This group-known in Indonesian as the S.I. ke-Dua (Second SI) and in Dutch as Afdeling B (Section B)-was concentrated in the Priangan region of West Java. It had been started in 1917 by a Hadji Ismael, who had encouraged resistance by selling charms ( d;imat) guaranteed to make the wearer invulnerable. Ismael's secret association had gained momentum with peasant objections to the forced rice collections; it seems to have acted outside the authority of the CSI but not in opposition to it. That the SI leadership was directly involved was not at all clear, but Sosrolc:ardono, the party 40

Becoming a Communist Party

secretary, was immediately arrested and later Tjokroaminoto was also put on trial Although some Indonesian ISDV members-notably Alimin and Musso-were ultimately implicated in the affair, the party itseH disapproved of the conspiracy. Much as it approved of revolution, it could hardly support a movement that appealed to the wealthier rural santrl and was said to have in mind the murder of all non-Muslims on Java: We are of the opinion that we must keep both feet on the ground and not idealize obscure groups without sufficient evidence. For the time being we wish to make no further judgment of Hadji Ismael's association and continue to place more faith in the work of such people as Semaun and Darsono. 22

The Garut affair horrified the Ethically inclined Europeans, and their conservative opponents pounced upon it as proof of the correctness of their predictions. The incident created a stir not only in the Volksraad but also in the Dutch parliament. The Adviser for Native Affairs, Hazeu, who was noted for his sympathy with the Indonesian movements, was forced to resign, and the embattled Ethical Governor General van Limburg Stirum faced even more heated opposition than before. The Europeans who remained optimistic about a peaceful Indonesian transition to the modem world became much more cautious in their opinion of the ability of politically oriented popular movements to aid in this process. Those officials who considered that the Sarekat Islam could still perform a useful function thought that it must be guided into less dangerous channels; and the SI leaders, alarmed by both the sharp government reaction and their inability to curb their rural following, were only too ready to agree. For both the government and the SI, the answer seemed to lie in the organization of labor unions. The conditions of the Indonesian wage earners at that time can only by described as deplorable; a government investigation concluded that the income of unskilled workers was too low to provide a "hygienically sufficient means of existence" and had led to the serious undernourishment of a large portion of the population. 23 Private enterprise-and particularly the plantation industry, which was by far the largest employer-turned a deaf ear to the government's moral arguments, and so the authorities encouraged the labor unions as a means of forcing the desired improvements without overt government action. Moreover, they hoped that economic activity 41

Rise of Indonesian Communism would divert the energies of the popular movement into channels less dangerous to the state than the political lines along which it had thus far moved.a. The ISDV was at least as interested as the government in turning the SI to labor organization, although for very different reasons. A turn to the proletariat would probably increase the influence of Semarang, the SI branch most closely identified with labor. It might also make the CSI leaders more receptive to the ideological views of the radical socialists and less inclined to stress religion. Moreover, the ISDV was sadly aware that its own ability to organize Indonesian labor was restricted Although the party had considerable influence among the developing organizations of skilled and semiskilled urban workersnotably the VSTP, the most powerful union of this sort-it had virtually no following among the plantation workers, coolies, and landless farm laborers who formed the vast bulk of the Indonesian proletariat. Nor did it influence the various associations of Indonesian petty officials and lower white-collar employees that were emerging at the time. The ISDV leaders, conscious of their limited urban appeal, had made an effort to organize rural labor in the sugar areas, which seemed an obvious point of potential unrest. In 1917 Porojitno, an association of peasants and unskilled laborers, was founded on the party's initiative, and in January 1918 it was reorganized into the Workers' and Peasants' Association ( Perhimpunan Kaum Buruh dan Tani, or PKBT). The movement was headed by Suharijo, an S1-ISDV leader from Demak, but its guiding spirit was Baars, who at the time was an enthusiastic proponent of agrarian action. 25 The purpose of the organization was to unite the peasantry of the sugar districts, who wanted higher rents paid for their land and higher wages for work at harvest time, with the landless laborers employed in the cane fields and mills. It also was supposed to function as a cooperative, which would bypass the middlemen in marketing rice. The association led a precarious existence throughout 1918, changing its leadership and headquarters with disorganized rapidity; the combination of peasant and plantation labor proved unsuccessful, and it was split into two divisions, the Peasants' Association (PKT) and the Estate Workers' Association (PKBO). At the beginning of 1919 it moved to Surakarta and came under the hegemony of Hadji Misbach; after his arrest it found a new chief in the CSI leader Surjopranoto.21 The PBKT was far overshadowed in importance by Surjopranoto's 42

Becoming a Communist ParltJ own PFB, which he began in Jogjakarta in April 1917 as Adidarmo, the Army of Labor, an association of vast and hazy purposes. In 1918 Adidarmo developed a special division to support laid-off sugar factory workers and the families of deceased laborers; this branch became known as the Union of Factory Personnel ( Personeel Fabrieksbond, or PFB) and began to organize the sugar workers for improved wages. In December 1918 it had only about 700 adherents, but at its first congress a year later it claimed 6,000 full members and 2,000 candidates.21 The PFB's rapid rise was due not only to Surjopranoto's abilities as a popular leader and to the rural restlessness of 1919 but also to the status of its chief, who as a member of the Jogjakarta royal house of Paku Alam appeared to the inhabitants of that princely state both as a modem labor organizer and as a traditional defender of his people. The other branch of labor that resisted ISDV penetration, the Indonesian petty officials, was dominated by the pawnshop employees' union ( PPPB), which had been founded in 1916 and was led by the CSI secretary Sosrokardono. Its vice-president was Alimin, a member of the ISDV executive. Alimin, however, divided his loyalties equally between the ISDV, lnsulinde, and the Sarekat Islam; in union matters he was very conscious that Indonesian government employees could not afford to be too radical, so the socialist revolutionaries could not hope for too much from this toehold in the pawnshop workers' organization. With little apparent prospect of being able itself to establish successful unions outside the urban proletariat, the ISDV saw that its best chance was to influence the labor organizations led by the SI, a strategy that looked the more promising because both Surjopranoto and Sosrokardono entertained radical notions and depended on flamboyant personal leadership rather than a disciplined organization to control their associations. A program of penetration could best be carried out via a trade union federation, something the socialist group had been trying to establish since 1915.28 Economic hardship and increased unrest caused the ISDV to step up its efforts during 1918, but it was not until the following year that its campaign was successful. In May 1919, at a congress of the pawnshop workers' union in Bandung, labor leaders from the ISDV and S1-Sosrokardono, Alimin, Semaun, and Bergsma-outlined a plan to unite the unions of the two parties in a common front. They envisioned a Revolutionary Socialist Federation of Labor Unions, which would become the upper house of a "true Volksraad," the lower chamber of which would be composed of 43

Rise of Indonesian Communism delegates from the Indonesian political organi7.ations. If the plan could be put into effect, Sosrokardono asserted, "we will be able to achieve by ourselves a government for the people of Indonesia, and will be able to change the capitalist society into a socialist one." 28 It was unanimously decided to establish a committee of union representatives headed by Surjopranoto to prepare the federation, and Semaun was assigned to draft its declaration of purpose and its constitution. As this action indicated, the Sarekat Islam leaders were most sanguine about their prospects in the labor field. A strike wave that broke out in 1918 reached major proportions the following year, and because of government encouragement of the unions and the sharp upswing in business during 1919 it was by Indies standards extremely successful. 80 The workers, seeing in the unions the same quick remedy for their ills that had caused the peasantry to flock to the rural SI, joined the new organizations in rapidly increasing numbers. During 1919 the number of labor unions grew swiftly, and the majority of organized workers came under SI leadership. At the October 1919 congress of the Sarekat Islam, the ISDV distributed a pamphlet urging the delegates to "join in the class struggle" and declaring that "the task of the SI is to create the organization through which the proletariat of the Indies will liberate itself. The SI should become the organiution of the worker and small peasant class." 11 The response to this call was more than encouraging, £or the meeting exhibited an almost hysterical verbal radicalism that seemed to derive in good part from a desire to cut a defiant figure before the Dutch in the face of the reaction engendered by the Garut and the Toli-toli affairs. Both Tjolcroaminoto and Surjopranoto argued in favor of the program evolved at the pawnshop workers' congress, asserting that the government would be unable to ignore the demands of the people united by the "true Vollcsraad." The normally conservative Hadji Agus Salim urged endorsement of the revolutionary socialist title for the labor federation in the face of Alimin's objections that this would frighten off the workers in public employ. In their arguments, the CSI leaders identified the government more closely with the capitalist system than ever before, declaring that the Indonesian proletariat must force the capitalists to grant them needed reforms, if necessary by means of a general strike.12 The ISDV was greatly pleased by this demonstration of radical intent, the more so since it had taken place without much goading from 44

Becoming a Communist Party Semarang. With cause to hope that the less radical SI leaders could be either won over or worked out, its view of that movement brightened considerably. The 1919 congress, Het Vrije Woord declared, had shown that the Sarekat Islam was exchanging its religious character for a secular socialist one, for at that meeting "the struggle was directed squarely against capitalism and was not, as in previous times, an attack by a few on 'sinful capitalism,' a combination of concepts that rests on a misunderstanding of socialism." 33 All that was needed was to get rid of the "weak spots in the sturdy body of the SI" 34 for it to become a true workers' and peasants' movement. The SI leaders proved that they were serious in their congress statements by moving immediately to establish Indonesia's first labor federation, which came into being on December 2.5, 1919, at a convention of SI and ISDV unions in Jogjakarta. It consisted of 22 unions with a total of 72,000 workers; the majority of the unions were under the control of Semarang, but the greater number of workers belonged to CSI-inB.uenced unions. 8:i It had been generally assumed that Surjopranoto, head of the largest member union, would lead the federation. However, Semaun outmaneuvered him at the convention and was appointed head of the interim executive of the federation, which established its first headquarters in Semarang. 86 In the beginning, the convention decided that the new federation would bear the title provisionally approved by the recent SI congress. However, Semaun alarmed many delegates by identifying revolutionary socialism with Bolshevism in a speech on the significance of the Russian November Revolution for the Indonesian struggle. The union representatives did not feel they wished to go so far as to tie the federation publicly to Bolshevism, and to avoid giving any impression that they were doing so they asked that the revolutionary socialist label be dropped. Much to the disgust of his fellow ISDV members, Alimin played a major part in this retreat, declaring that, although he personally favored the Bolshevik standpoint, so radical a title would merely frighten off the white-collar unions. Seeing himself outvoted on the issue, Semaun acceded to a change of name, and the association emerged as the Concentration of Labor Movements ( Persatuan Pergerakan Kaum Buruh, or PPKB) .87 If the ISDV failed to obtain a Bolshevik title for the labor federation, it did manage to secure one for itself. With the establishment of the Comintem in 1919, the social-democratic label had become increas45

Rise of Indonesian Communism ingly identified with the_gradualist adherents of the Second International and unacceptable for those of a revolutionary viewpoint The Dutch SOP had acknowledged this promptly by becoming the Communist Party of Holland ( CPH), and some of the European members of the ISDV thought that their party should also assert its Comintern sympathies in this fashion. By no means all of them felt the need, however, and the question might have remained open had the party not been presented by its moderate rivals with a linguistic dilemma. At its congress of June 1919, the Indies SOAP decided that it had been a mistake to establish itself as a branch of the Dutch socialist movement; casting about for a name of its own, it ended by becoming the Indies Social Democratic Party (ISDP). 38 Not only was this title very similar to that of the revolutionary socialist organization, but it was almost impossible to differentiate in Indonesian: that language, possessing no "v" sound, substitutes a "p" instead, with the result that the ISDV members were discomfited by being referred to by the moderate title.111 Since the ISDP showed no inclination to change its new name, the older organization decided to do so. According to Alimin,40 plans to assume a new title were made during 1919, but no action was taken that year. The party did not even hold its annual congress, principally, it seems, because the European leadership was decimated and the two principal Indonesians, Semaun and Darsono, spent much of their time in jail.41 It was not until January 1920 that the party was able to gather, but this sixth congress was a hurried affair that only marked time until the seventh convention, scheduled for the ISDV's usual meeting month of May. At the seventh congress, the principal topic of discussion was the proposal to change the name of the ISDV to Perserikatan Kommunist di India (Communist Party in the Indies). 42 Among its principal sponsors was Baars, who had returned from Holland in March, having found neither revolution nor employment there. He had been rescued from political and economic idleness by the Semarang municipality, which appointed him an engineer in its department of public works; the nomination understandably raised a furor, but the government blocked neither his return nor his reinstatement in public employ. At the congress Baars spoke for those ISDV members who wished the organization to distinguish itself from Revisionist socialism and declare its kinship with the parties then aligning about the Comintem. He was backed by the powerful Indonesian-led Semarang faction, 46

Becoming a Communist Party which had adopted a resolution advocating the proposed change of title a few weeks before. For the Indonesian majority, a principal ground for backing the change appears to have been the desire for a name in their own language, one that avoided the problem of the letter "v." 48 It was a humble reason for deciding to become a Communist party, but a sufficient one: the motion passed by a good majority, and on May 23, 1920, the ISDV became the Indonesian Communist Party-the first such organization to be established in Asia beyond the borders of the former Russian Empire.

41

IV

Joining the Com.intern WRITING from Europe when the Comintern was formed in 1919, Baars assured his Indies comrades that "the ISDV can state with pride that it has always worked in the spirit which is now recognized by the Third International as the spirit of Communism." 1 At the time, however, any congruence between the policies advocated by the Comintem and the practices of the Indonesian party was largely coincidental, for the ISDV had very little information concerning Soviet Russia or the Communist International. About the only reports on events in Soviet Russia that appeared in Het Vrije Woord during 1919 were the regular wire-service accounts of the civil war.2 It did print the manifesto issued by the first Comintern congress, but it made no comment on it, either then or later. 3 The ISDV journal also serialized Karl Kautsky's Sozialismus und Kolonialpolitik-a study which, though it presented an Orthodox interpretation of imperialism, was written by a Marxist who had been anathema to the Leninists ever since he supported the German war effort in 1914. The ISDV leaders were not, in fact, completely sure that they wished to impose on their own party the strict ideological conformity that the Bolsheviks were impressing on the emergent Third International. They were not even certain about the Soviet revolution itself: as party chairman Hartogh remarked at the January 1920 ISDV congress, they did not have the "objective materials" to form a clear opinion about the Bolsheviks. However, he added that "'Russia still stands in the center of our interest• and that from available indications the Soviet regime seemed to be traveling in the right direction. 4 Concern for international ideology was limited almost solely to European ISDV leaders, who were deeply divided as to the party's course. We will remember that at the ISDV congress of 1918 the party had resolved to transform itself into a political organization of some mass substance instead of remaining an elite group dependent for its

48

Joining the Comintem popular following on the Sarekat Islam. This endeavor was soon brought to a virtual halt, and Hartogh noted at the following congress that: "not much has come of the reorganization decided upon at the Semarang congress, because of the expulsion of Sneevliet, who was charged with carrying it out. For the time being we have not been able to do more than keep ourselves functioning, in which we have. been relatively successful" 11 On December 12, 1918, the ISDV executive held a conference in response to its leaders' realization that the Troelstra Revolution had been defeated in Holland and that the Indies government was not going to concede anything more than its November Promises. The meeting determined that the party should emphasize organization and ideological training rather than mass revolutionary agitation: Should capitalism maintain itself for some time to come, we must, far more than has been the case until now, consider it our first duty to cultivate at least a thorough socialist knowledge and sympathy among a proletarian elite here, in order to equip it to appear as the leader of a future, inevitable clash. In this manner we will fulfill the prerequisites for a true mass action.• Although this resolution was framed in response to the immediate situation, it also represented the general concept of mass action held by Hartogh, the Surabaja leader who succeeded Baars as party chairman. In his view, the purpose of the party was, first, "to supply socialist information and to cultivate a core of socialistically, thinking and feeling people," and, second, to influence in a socialist direction such proletarian elements as were to be found in the other Indonesian movements. 7 To this end he refused to charter any new party branch unless he knew it would contain at least one or two members with thorough socialist training-no small requirement for Indonesia in those or later days. First, Hartogh submitted, must come the organization and the knowledge; only then could there be mass action. 8 The perennial argument over party membership standards was thus reopened; as before, the whole question of the purpose of the ISDV was debated. The developments of 1919-the increased government restrictions, the growing popular unrest, the discovery of Section B, and the ambivalence of the Sarekat Islam-only aggravated the dispute; they convinced the Semarang group of the need to spread the revolutionary word while popular feelings still ran high, but they proved just as clearly to the Surabaja leaders the need to preserve the 49

Rise of Indonesian Communism party as a small, tightly disciplined organization that could ride out the gathering reactionary storm. Hartogh was plainly alarmed by the possibility of some party members developing a Section B of their own-not unreasonably, since the Surabaja leadership had little control over the activities of Indonesian ISDV members, some of whom, we will remember, were implicated in the SI plot.11 This was one reason for his refusal to charter branch organizations unless he was sure they would contain a trained core of socialists who could control them: as Hartogh put it, unless the party maintained tight discipline, it might find itself in a compromising situation that would allow the government to wreck it. By and large, the ISDV chairman added in defense of his policies at the January 1920 congress, the Indonesian workers joined the party too carelessly, were indifferent to discipline, and did not pay their dues. The sixth party congress was held to confirm the Surabaja policy, which it did by re-electing Hartogh as chairman. 10 The meeting lasted only one day-January 3, 1920-and no vote was taken on the policy itself. Semarang maintained that the congress was steamrollered and subsequently refused to accept its decisions as legitimate.11 Bergsma voiced the Semarang objections in an editorial note appended to the account of the congress in Het Vrije Woord. The opposition, he stated, believed that the party should not allow fear of being compromised to interfere with the establishment of new branches where there was a demand for them. Only with a large number of branches could the socialist message really be spread, since propagandizing could only be effective with direct missionary effort. 12 The debate continued on the pages of Het Vrije Woord,13 and inevitably it became a major topic at the May 1920 congress. By the time of the May meeting, Surabaja was apparently ready to yield control of the party, for it approved a shift of ISDV headquarters-and thus party leadership-back to Semarang •for practical reasons." Nonetheless, Hartogh made a strong plea for his program, arguing as before that the ISDV should be an elite organi7.ation devoted to spreading "socialist information" and to strengthening the proletariat against "capitalist oppressors of all nationalities.• 1' Hartogh asserted that the Comintem represented the only true socialists and that the world revolution was at hand, but he and the outgoing Surabaja executive rejected the Semarang proposal that the party assume the Communist label. The Indonesian masses did not 50

Joining the Comintem understand the ABCs of socialism, he pointed out; how then could they be committed to one of socialism's many "European nuances"?

H the ISDV wishes to agree to the change in name, then it will also have to accede to the criticism expressed about the "false socialists" in this and other countries. Are there-and I measure it very generously-ten members of our association capable of the independent criticism ncc:essary for this? I think not. Party formation in the Indies is still in an embryonic stage; diJferentiation is only beginning to take place. At the moment a member of the executive of Budi Utomo is at the same time a member of the executive of one of our branches. I could name more such cases. Moreover, the proposal for the change of name has not come from a majority of our members, but from a few leaders. In itself there should be no reason to object to this, provided a majority is found which, after hearing the arguments pro and con, will come independently to a decision. In view of the nature of the majority of our members-I mean this not as a slur; I am merely stating a fact-there can be no doubt that this will not be the case.111

Bergsma, Baars, and Semaun argued against Hartogh that only a change in name was involved in order to distinguish the ISDV from the "false socialists" and identify it with the Comintern.. It would not, they assured, imply a shift in policy, for the ISDV had always been sympathetic to Bolshevik socialism: "We have been Communists for a long time now," Bergsma asserted. Hartogh pointed out, however, that the ISDV members, even if they all sympathized with the Russian Revolution, did not unanimously endorse for Indonesia such institutions as the dictatorship of the proletariat and the soviet system, which Baars himself had just mentioned as essentials of the Communist program. The ISDV was too small to indulge in sectarianism, he held; and there were too many useful things it could do without committing itself to one corner of the revolutionary arena. Finally, he announced that if the party approved the proposal, he would have to refuse any leading function in it. 18 The motion was put to a vote; only the Dutch-dominated branches of Surabaja and Bandung and a member-at-large from Ternate opposed the transformation of the ISDV into the PKl. 17 A new executive was accordingly elected, consisting of the Semarang-based core group of Semaun (chairman), Darsono (vice-chairman), Bergsma ( secretary), Dekker (treasurer), and Baars (commissioner); members outside Semarang were Stam ( Tuhan), Dengah and Kraan ( Surabaja),

51

Rise of Indonesian Communism and Sugono (Bandung). 18 For the first time Indonesians were given the top posts in the party. Moreover, the Netherlanders in the new executive core were noted proponents of agitation among the Indonesian masses. The new party leadership was committed to greater activity among the local population, but it still faced the problem of defining the terms on which this work would take place. Should the Communists aim first of all at preserving their influence in the Sarekat Islam, or should they sacrifice this if necessary by competing with the SI leaders for popular favor? How much of Communist doctrine could be insisted on in preindustrial Indonesia, where even the party's leadership was often ignorant of-or willing to ignore-the Marxist tenets? Similar questions were being asked at this time in Soviet Russia, where the Comintern was preparing to convene a congress that would devote considerable attention to Communism in the East. The task of the Third International was not an easy one, for although Lenin's doctrine on imperialism had given an ideological basis for Communist interest in the colonial question, it provided only the haziest indication of what Asian Communist parties should do. Moreover, the problem of balancing circumstances in the precapitalist East against the need to preserve overall unity in Communist policy was an exceedingly difficult one, for which in fact the International never achieved a satisfactory solution. Behind all Comintern decisions stood the red eminence of Soviet Russia, and it was Russia's experience and interests which, beyond the requirements of ideology itself, played the greatest role in determining the first Asian program of the International. The Soviet victory was, in the first place, proof that the Communists could assume power in a country generally regarded as backward. Of equal significance so far as the colonial question was concerned was the fact that this victory was achieved largely without the active participation of the peasantry. Peasant acquiescence and approval were obtained by the promise of bread, land, and peace, but the seizure of power itself took place in the cities, and its active elements were the proletariat and the common soldiery. It is liJcely that much of the Comintern attitude toward the peasantry in the Asian revolution derived from this experience, which tended to reinforce the ideologically based disregard of the Communists for the political potential of the peasantry. Neither Marx nor Engels had had much regard for the peasants; they were considered too unorganized, too backward, and too possessed of a "petty-bourgeois" desire

52

Joining the Comintem

to own land to be an effective revolutionary force. At some points Marx and Engels had maintained that the landless peasants might adhere to the proletarian cause, but this affiliation they considered to be of a wholly subordinate nature and of little consequence for the revolution. The peasantry did not constitute a distinct class, they claimed, and therefore it could not be an independent force in the class struggle. As we shall see the International considered that peasant demands should be a principal part of the Asian Communist program-just as the Bolsheviks had used peasant demands to gain popular support for their cause-but at the same time it was assumed that the peasantry would be a docile follower of the proletariat and that the urban workers would thus be the dynamic force of the revolution. This resulted in a curious ambivalence in the Comintem program, whereby the International insisted that the Asian revolution would be agrarian in nature and that the support of the peasantry was vital for its success, at the same time cautioning that the peasants could not play a truly active revolutionary role and that the Communists should refrain from relying on them too greatly. The Comintem never abandoned this dual attitude, and it was not until the victory of Mao Tse-tung in China that Soviet policy makers came to realize that the peasantry might be a driving force and not just a vehicle in the Asian revolution. The Soviet experience in the period just after the revolution was also important in the development of the Comintem colonial program. This influence was partly negative, since Russia's greatest hopes and fears lay in the West-hope for a revolution in Europe, fear of Allied intervention in the civil war-and this, added to the then prevalent belief that Communist rule in agrarian Russia could be ensured only by proletarian victory in a highly industrialized land, led the Bolshevik leaders to neglect the Asian question. In another sense, however, the civil war period did force the Soviets to consider the East: Russia desired to maintain the loyalty of the Tsarist Central Asian territories and to maintain Russian influence vis-a-vis that of the British in Turkey, Iran, and Afghanistan. The Soviets were in no position to use force in these areas, and so it was necessary to rely on persuasion. The semifeudal rulers of Central Asia could hardly be appealed to with Marxist slogans, and so the two themes given the greatest emphasis in Russian propaganda in the East were Islam and independence. Incongruous though it was for atheist Communism to base its plea upon religion, the Bolsheviks were well aware that Islam struck the

53

Rise of Indonesian Communism deepest emotional chord in the areas where they were anxious to gain allegiance. Consequently, the period between 1917 and 1920 saw a steady stream of proclamations, congresses, and propaganda emphasizing Russian friendship with the Muslim peoples. The first Soviet declaration on the colonial question was an Islamic appeal-the proclamation "To All Muslim Toilers of Russia and the East," issued a few weeks after the Bolshevik seizure of power. In addition to promising religious freedom to the Islamic peoples of the former Russian Empire, it called on the Muslims of Turkey, Persia, and India to take up arms against imperialism. In February 1918 a "Mohammedan Central Commissariat" was formed to further revolution in the Muslim areas of the East, and in November of that year and the next the Soviet government sponsored the first and second All-Russian Congress of Communist Muslim Organizations. 19 These activities were spurred mainly by the need for Central Asian support, but the Soviets were also intrigued by the possibility of utilizing the Pan-Islamic movement, which seemed then to be growing into a powerful force in the Muslim world. Seeing in it the same antiWestern potentialities that the Indies authorities had feared earlier in the century, they called for a •revolutionary tie with the Muslims of the English, Italian, French, German, Dutch and other colonies, who find themselves under the oppression of the European imperialists." 20 The League for the Liberation of the East, formed in November 1918, took up the question of Pan-Islamism and concluded: This movement is, to be sure, still basically national and religious. But Islam has always been an active, political religion; the Mohammedans are not exclusively or even predominantly a theological people, but a political one; their religious life is &lied with a political, militant spirit. Pan-Islamism can thus also be used for political purposes-especially for furthering the movement for national independence. 21

In December 1918 the Central Bureau of the Muslim Organizations of the Russian Communist Party announced that it would establish a Department of International Propaganda for the Eastern Peoples. This office was to carry the revolutionary message beyond the Soviet borders, principally via Islamic ties, for "We, the Muslim Communists, who know better the language and the way of life of the peoples of the East, who are Muslim in our great majority, are duty-bound to take the most active part in this sacred work." 22 These sweeping gestures were inspired by emergency conditions; 54

Joining the Comintern they were thus concerned with slogans and tactics rather than analysis and grand strategy, and they contributed little to a program for Asian Communism. The single exception was the League for the Liberation of the East (Soiuz osvobozhdeniia Vostoka), which was established as a pilot organization from which it was hoped to develop a "special International of the East, in accordance with the peculiar circumstances under which the various nations of the East exist, have developed, and will necessarily continue to develop." 23 At its founding convention-the first occasion on which the Bolsheviks discussed the unification of the East against imperialism 24-the League set forth a program that analyzed the nature of the Asian revolution and outlined the Communist role in it. It rejected the Asian bourgeoisie, declaring that only the working class-peasants, laborers, and artisans-could cany on the revolution against imperialism. The aim of the anti-imperialist movements should be to create governments based on "healthy nationalism": these were to be "workers' republics," which would embody the principles of both national and class selfdetermination. In spite of Asia's backwardness, the League held, it would not be necessary for the workers' republics to pass through the capitalist stage, for with the world socialist revolution already begun the masses could seize power themselves from the feudal classes and thus avoid the period of bourgeois rule. The program envisioned the unification of these republics into a giant federation, which would be "unselfishly" exploited by Soviet Russia. 211 In addition, the League outlined an action program for the Asian revolutionaries that was adapted directly from the experiences of the Bolshevik Revolution.28 This attempt at establishing an Asian Communist program proved completely abortive; nothing further seems to have been done with the League, and at the Second All-Russian Congress of Muslim Communist Organizations, held a year later, the League's ideas were almost completely contradicted. The congress passed resolutions calling for the formation of Asian Communist parties that would become sections of the Comintern and for support of the Asian national liberation movements as a means of overthrowing Western capitalism. Lenin, addressing the meeting on the immediate duties of the Asian Communist movements, declared: The task is to arouse the toiling masses to revolutionary activity, to translate the true Communist docbine, which was intended for the Communists of the more advanced rountries, into the language of every people; to carry out

55

Rise of Indonesian Communism those practical tasks which must be caJTied out immediately, and to merge with the proletarians of other counb'ies in a common struggle. . . . You will have to base yourselves on that bourgeois nationalism which is awakening, and cannot but awaken, among those peoples, and which has its historical justification. At the same time, you must find the way to the toiling and exploited masses of every country and tell them in the language they understand that their only reliable hope of emancipation lies in the victory of the international revolution, and that the international proletariat is the only ally of all the hundreds of millions of toiling and exploited peoples of

the East. 27 This view was typical for Lenin, who had been a consistent proponent of cooperation with Asian "'bourgeois nationalism" on the grounds that in precapitalist areas the bourgeoisie and nationalism were progressive forces. 28 Bolshevik opinion was not united on this interpretation, however, and not only the League for the Liberation of the East but the 1919 congress of the Russian Communist Party held for a struggle against the Asian bourgeoisie.29 At the same party congress BuJcharin advocated a policy that went much further than Lenin's toward collaboration with nonproletarian forces. The Bolshevilcs, he declared, should exercise extreme opportunism in supporting movements in Asia, since anything that would hurt the imperialists would help the world revolution: H we propound the solution of the right of sell-determination for the colonies, the Hottentots, the Negroes, the Indians, etc., we lose nothing by it. On the contrary, we gain; for the national gain as a whole will damage foreign imperialism. . . . The most outright nationalist movement, for example, that of the Hindus, is only water for our mill, since it conb'ibutes to the destruction of English imperialism.80

On the face of it, the question of the Asian bourgeoisie was a minor one, since that class represented a small and feeble segment of Asian society; but the matter had implications that went beyond the bourgeois class itseH. First of all, the Asian nationalists might be won by a program that attacked foreign capitalism, but they would dislilce a frontal assault on their own struggling middle class, especially if this diverted energies from the effort against colonial rule. Moreover, of the Asian nationalist leaders were members of the intelligentsia; they were thus by Marxist definition bourgeois, and the Communists referred to the movements they led as "'bourgeois nationalist." The identification of nationalism with the bourgeoisie made the Commu-

most

56

Joining the Comintern nists' attitude toward cooperation with Asian nationalism dependent on their view of the Asian bourgeoisie; and this lent great importance to the question of the Comintem's attitude toward that class. By the time the Comintern was founded, in 1919, there had thus been a good deal of agitation about Asia but very little progress toward a Communist policy in the East. There existed only Lenin's fragmentary contributions on the relations between Communism and Asian nationalism, and these had been contradicted in other Bolshevik statements. There had been virtually no discussion of Communist policy toward the Asian peasantry,81 and the statements on Islam had been largely opportunistic, based on the needs of the Russian emergency. The only attempt to create an organization and policy for Asian Communism had failed completely, which, considering that program's provisions, was just as well. The first Comintem congress added nothing to this meager progress toward a Communist colonial policy, mentioning the Asian question only in passing as a minor aspect of the world revolution. In July 1920, however, the second Comintern congress set itself to amend the International's previous neglect. Zinoviev, reporting for the Comintern's executive committe ( ECCi), apologized to the congress for the committee's failure to pay adequate heed to the Asian situation. 82 A Commission on National and Colonial Questions was appointed to outline a Communist program in the East; reflecting the importance the congress accorded the problem, Lenin himself assumed its chairmanship. The secretary of the commission was Sneevliet, who appeared under his Comintem name, Maring. 33 He attended the congress as the representative of Indonesia, extrapolating for the purpose on the authorizations given him by Indies organizations at the time of his expulsion from the colony. Although he clearly spoke in his capacity as a Communist rather than as an advocate of the CSI, much of his considerable activity at the congress was directed toward securing Comintem approval of cooperation with the Sarekat Islam. His reservations regarding the ISDV's close relations with the Muslim movement seem to have vanished when he left the Indies. Arriving in Holland to 6nd the radical socialists despondent over the failure of the Troelstra Revolution-which doubtless made the Indies situation seem relatively bright -he had assured a welcoming rally that the Sarekat Islam was a "proletarian movement• and that "the Mohammedan religious tend57

Rise of Indonesian Communism ency of this movement was only a side issue." 34 At the August 1919 congress of the SOP, now the Communist Party of Holland (CPH), he had spoken in the name of both the ISDV and •our comrade-in-arms, the left wing of the Sarekat Islam" and assured the meeting that: The Sarelcat Islam continues to hape for revolution, and it is justi6ed in doing so-after ali the Third International has committed itseH to the liberation of the oppressed peoples in the areas exploited by European capitalism.811

The news Sneevliet subsequently received from the Indies seems only to have strengthened this conviction,38 and at the second Comintern congress he made a strong plea for international support for the Indonesian Communists' strategy: This organization, although its name-Sarelcat Islam-is a religious one, has achieved a class character. When we realize that the struggle against sinful capitalism stands in the program of this movement, that the struggle is not only directed against the government but also against the Javanese nobility, we can appreciate that it is the duty of the socialist revolutionary movement to establish firm bonds with this mass organization, with the Sarelcat Islam. I am of the opinion that only through mass action can a truly socialist movement or revolutionary resistance be organi7.ed, that only in this way can capitalism be opposed by genuine power. 87

Sneevliet's view fortunately coincided with Lenin's-indeed, this may well have been why he was named the commission's secretary. The Russian leader presented to the commission a set of theses on the colonial question which emphasized the necessity of cooperation with bourgeois-democratic nationalism: There is no doubt that every nationalist movement can only be of a bourgeois-democratic character, because the great mass of the population of the underdeveloped countries consists of the peasantry, which is the representative of bourgeois-capitalist relationships. It would be utopian to think that proletarian parties, insofar as it is possible for them to exist in the &rst place in these countries, would be capable of carrying out the Communist policy in the underdeveloped countries without having a definite relationship with the peasant movement, without in fact supporting it. 38

In Lenin's view, the Communists should pursue the following line in underdeveloped regions: Support of the peasant movement in the backward lands against the landowners and all forms and remnants of feudalism. We must above all strive to

58

Joining the Comintem give the peasant movement as revolutionary a character as possible, to organize the peasants and all the exploited people into soviets wherever possible, and thus to create a close connection between the West European proletariat and the revolutionary movement of the peasants in the East, in the colonies and the underdeveloped areas. The Communist International is to create a temporary cooperation, even an alliance, with the revolutionary movement of the colonies and the backward countries; it must not, however, amalgamate with it but must maintain absolutely the independent character of the proletarian movement-albeit only in embryo fonn. 39

It was lucky for Sneevliet that he had such a distinguished ally in his opinions, for other members of the committee on the colonial question disagreed sharply with this view. In the end, even Lenin's great prestige could not bring unity, and the committee reported two separate sets of theses to the congress. The alternate theses, which were proposed by the Indian Communist M. N. Roy, called for Communist opposition to bourgeois nationalism as a force basically opposed to social revolution. Roy considered the landless peasantry to be the natural ally of the proletariat and counted on increasing landlessness to bring about Communist domination of the political movement in Asia. The bourgeois nationalists, he accused, would try to take control of the less sophisticated peasant movement and use it for their own, nonsocialist ends; and thus the Communists must do their best to prevent the spread of bourgeois nationalism. 40 Lenin, on the other hand, argued that by nature the peasantry was bourgeois-democratic, and he did not see the landless peasants as a considerable force distinct from the rest of the peasantry. Both Roy and Lenin thought that the colonial revolution would be essentially agrarian; but their diHering analyses of the class role of the peasantry led the one to argue for cooperation with the nationalist movement and the other to reject it. 41 So powerful were the objections to Lenin's theses that he was forced to make some amendments to his original proposal in order to make it palatable to the more radical members of the committee. These changes consisted chiefly in the substitution of the word "revolutionary" for the term "bourgeois-democratic" when referring to nationalist movements, an increased emphasis on the need to form peasant soviets, a denunciation of religion and religious movements, and a demand that Communists expose those privileged classes in the colonies which bene6ted from and supported the rule of the imperialists.42 59

Rise of Indonesian Communism In view of the difficulties Lenin's program experienced in committee, further debate seemed likely when the two proposals reached the floor of the congress. The Comintern, however, was saved from argument by Sneevliet, who as commission secretary effectively sabotaged Roy's proposal: I see no diJference between the theses of Comrade Lenin and Comrade Roy. They are basically in agreement. The difficulty consists merely in finding the proper attitude toward relations between the revolutionary nationalist and socialist movements in the underdeveloped lands and colonies. In practice this difficulty does not exist. It is necessary in practice to worlc together with the revolutionary nationalist elements, and we will accomplish only half our task if we deny this movement and put ourselves forth as doctrinaire Man:ists.43 This move presented a diplomatic way out of the situation, and both theses were adopted by the Comintern. Actually, however, only Lenin's analysis was used during the period with which we are dealing.44 The Asian revolution, the Comintern thus decided, would be bourgeois-democratic in form, and the Communists must call first for land reform on the basis of small peasant ownership. On the other hand, the capitalist stage could be skipped and a peaceful transition to socialism would be possible: "If the revolutionary, victorious proletariat organizes a systematic propaganda and the Soviet governments come to its aid with all possible means, it is correct to assume that the capitalist stage of development will not be necessary for these peoples.n 411 If Sneevliet saw the Comintem adopt a favorable view on the vital issue of alliance with bourgeois nationalism, he found it opposed in another matter of importance to the Indonesian Communists. This was the question of Pan-Islamism, which, we will remember, the Bolsheviks had previously encouraged primarily because of their weakness in Central Asia. By the time of the second congress the Soviet position in that area of the world had improved to the point where the stick as well as the carrot could be employed to maintain Russian influence; consequently, it was no longer so necessary to play upon their Islamic and regional sentiments. On the contrary, these feelings were now felt to be centrifugal forces, which interfered with the establishment of Soviet authority. Thus, in spite of the manifest interest of Sneevliet and others that the Comintern utilize Islamic solidarity, or at least be neutral on the subject, the second congress declared:

60

Joining the Comintem It is necessary to struggle against Pan-Islamism and the Pan-Asian movement and similar currents of opinion which attempt to combine the struggle for liberation from European and American imperialism with a strengthening of Turkish and Japanese imperialism and of the nobility, the large landowners, the clergy, etc:" The Comintern position on this point was to create a serious problem for the Indonesian Communists in their relations with the Sareket Islam, for not only was Pan-Islamism then gaining powerful adherents within the Indonesian movement, but the thesis was an open invitation for the PKl's opponents to declare the Communists hostile to Islam. The party's immediate objections to the Comintern program were not based on the religious issue, however, but on the decision to support bourgeois nationalism. One might have expected the PKI to approve the Comintern endorsement of cooperation with the bourgeois nationalists in view of its implications for the alliance with the Sarekat Islam, but in fact the Indies Communists viewed any open concession to nationalism as anathema: We have fought against nationalism. We, too, desire an independent Indies, but are of the opinion that this can only be achieved lastingly and in the quickest manner through the struggle against imperialism as a whole-thus through struggling against imperialism together with the other workers outside the Indies, and thus by being international. 47 One reason for the vehemence of Indies Communist opposition to nationalism was the presence of Netherlanders in the party leadership. The Dutch members tended to view nationalism in its European context, seeing in it the reactionary force that had undone the socialist movement at the outbreak of World War I. Acutely aware of their precarious position as an alien minority in the indigenous movement, they tended to identify nationalism with xenophobia; moreover, although they desired the overthrow of colonial rule, they viewed a revolution that barred foreigners from the archipelago as a disastrous prospect: Suppose that all [non-Muslims] were to leave the country at once: then thousands of your own countrymen would starve to death, since the Indies social organism functions in such a way that the leadership of a large number of trained technical personnel is indispensable. The persons who are

61

Rise of Indonesian Communism capable of giving that leadership are still chiefty non-Islamic. Throw them out of the country and in the large cities you will have famine and plague. 41

The Europocenbic Surabaja group was particularly disinclined to make any concessions to Indonesian nationalist sentiment. We will remember that in the discussion of the party program at the 1918 congress Surabaja had opposed even mentioning national liberation as a feature of the Indonesian revolution. The Semarang Dutch leaders were more willing to accede to Indonesian feelings on the importance of national independence as a revolutionary goal; however, partly because they were strongly inclined toward syndicalism, they also refused to separate national from class revolution. Thus, although Bergsma argued the importance of the Asian anticolonial struggle for the proletarian revolution in Europe, he concluded that "only the Communists" method of struggle" (by which he meant class warfare) could bring national liberation; and he regretted the fact that few Asians really seemed to appreciate this. 49 A striking example of this tendency to eschew activity that could be construed as nationalist rather than socialist was seen at the founding of the Concentration of Labor Movements in December 1919. We will remember that the PPKB was envisioned by the SI leaders as the upper house of a "true Volksraad," the lower chamber of which would consist of political party representatives. This body was formed at the same time and place as the PPKB and was called the Concentration of People's Liberation Movements ( Persatuan Pergerakan Kemerdekaan Rakjat; ( PPKR). The program it adopted was close to the Communists' own, and, speaking for the ISDV, Bergsma declared that the only thing wrong with it was the assumption that it could be carried out under a nonsocialist regime. 00 Tjokroaminoto had stated at the Concentration's founding convention that socialism was admirable but would have to wait until after the liberation of Java; this separation of the two elements of revolution was totally unacceptable to the ISDV. Accordingly, the party refused to join the Sarekat Islam, Sarekat Hindia ( formerly Insulinde), and ISDP in the Concentration, and Bergsma wished the new grouping a speedy demise. It was one thing to cooperate with non-Communists in a labor federation, for unions had an implicit class character; it was another thing to cooperate with the same people in a political alliance oriented toward independence. Acknowledging that its refusal to join political alliances on a national, nonclass basis might well lead to the 62

Joining the Comintem party's isolation, ISDV chairman Hartogh declared that this was a risk it would have to take: "Even if this viewpoint temporarily destroys our organization every one of us, man for man, will continue to defend it and propagate it individually." 111 The antinationalism of the ISDV/PKI was not simply a product of its Dutch element, however; to discover the sense in which this sentiment was shared by the party's non-European membership we must 6rst understand the position of nationalism in the Indonesian independence movement at the time. It is important to realize that there was then a very real distinction in the Netherlands Indies between the "national" and "nationalist" movements. Most of the Indonesian parties compromising the independence movement at this stage, although they were "national" in the sense of being Indonesian, were either founded on a regional-cultural basis-as were Budi Utomo, Pasundan, and the Sarekat Sumatra-or were international in their ideological background. The PKI belonged to the latter group, and so did the Sarekat Islam, which in the words of one of its leaders, "cherishes the idea of brotherhood; it is national, but at the same time through religion international." 112 Although these groups became increasingly conscious of a national identity, they did not take an Indonesian national state to be their supreme goal; this was left to a new generation of parties that arose only at the end of the period discussed in this volume. There was, however, one Indies party of this era that was vociferously nationalist; this was Insulinde, which maintained that religious, ethnic, and economic differences must be subordinated to the achievement of an independent national state. But Insulinde was nationalist without being national-for it was primarily Eurasian in origin, and one of its chief reasons for promoting an Indies nation-state was to overcome the ethnic and religious barriers between that group and the main body of the Indonesian population. Insulinde's principal leader and ideologue was E. F. E. Douwes Dekker, whose political ideas mingled radicalism of both left and right. A believer in the naturally superior man-he was an admirer of the racist theories of Houston Stewart Chamberlain-Douwes Dekker argued that the Indies suffered from being exploited by a foreign elite rather than by its own. The nationalist regime that should replace colonial rule would be based on social justice but would not be socialist; the class struggle must be subordinated to the national struggle, and it was the duty of the workers to support the Indies bourgeoisie in its bid for power. Outside aid 63

Rise of Indonesian Communism would probably be necessary to seize power; this might be had from America or from Japan in return for the promise that their capital would be allowed to enter the country, or perhaps from Soviet Russia, which seemed interested in promoting anticolonial revolution. This last suggestion was greeted by the Indies Communists as rank opportunism: "Bolshevism may be viewed by some nationalists as a welcome guest, but time will teach them that Bolshevism will also cause many of these nationalists' ideals to go up in smoke, since in a Communist society there is no place for the national capitalism of which so many nationalists dream." 113 Since nationalism in the Indies was embodied in Insulinde, it did not appear to be a viewpoint that sprang naturally from the indigenous anticolonial movement but was rather, li1ce Marxism, an ideology that a certain faction wanted an essentially uncommitted national movement to adopt. The nationalist-Communist competition in this sense was very real, for Douwes Dekker's movement and the ISDV/PKI were struggling at the time for control of the Sarekat Islam. Insulinde was at the height of its activity in 1919, for all three of its major leaders had returned from exile and were maldng vigorous efforts to increase their political influence. In June, Douwes Dekker took his followers out of Insulinde ·and formed the Sarekat Hindia ( Union of the Indies) in order to break the identification of the movement with the increasingly conservative Eurasian community and to strengthen it among radically inclined Indonesians. The Sarekat Hindia then made a major bid for influence in the SI, urging the mass movement at its 1919 congress to abandon its religious orientation on the grounds that it provided no sound basis for political action, change its name to Sarekat India, and adopt a program of national liberation and social justice.114 Much as the Communists desired the SI to reject its religious label, they refused to support the Sarekat Hindia's urgings, arguing instead that if the SI were to change its name, it would do best to call itself the Sarekat Intemasional. They were unwilling to give their rivals any advantage, for the Sarekat Hindia's revolutionary nationalism attracted not only various members of the SI but also a number of Indonesian Communists; it was in fact the ISDV member Alimin who made the Sarekat Hindia's principal plea for alignment with nationalism. Dogmatic inclinations were thus reinforced by practical motives in opposing nationalism: to prevent the SI from getting its political inspiration from the Sarekat Hindia rather than from the Communists, and to 64

Joining the Comintern keep the primary loyalty of its own members who also belonged to the SH, the ISDV/PKI stressed the hollowness of Sarekat Hindia claims to seek social justice, its opportunistic search for foreign imperialist support, and its desire to replace colonial with Indies capitalist oppression. The Eurasian origin and the political theorizings of Insulinde/Sarekat Hindia lent credence to the Communist arguments that nationalism was an instrument used by an aspiring bourgeoisie to secure its own hegemony; it thus did not appear to many Indonesians to be mere Marxist casuistry when the Communists argued that "Insulinde is dangerous for the Indonesians because it seeks independence for the Indies but not for the native population. . . . The freedom of the country alone will be useless, at least for its natives." 1111 Moreover, the energy the nationalists displayed during 1919 proved their undoing, for Insulinde participation in the Surakarta anticorvee action resulted in the arrest of several of its major leaders and the disruption of an important part of its organization. The establishment of the Sarekat Hindia proved a mistake, for it did not acquire the image of a purely Indonesian movement, and the government withheld the charter necessary for its existence as a legal party. By 1920 it was already evident that the movement was in serious trouble, and the Communists began to lose their fear of it as an alternative focus of revolutionary discontent. The failure of the Sarekat Hindia did not lessen Indies Communist opposition to nationalism. Rather, it seemed to them to prove the correctness of the Marxist-Leninist analysis of nationalism: it was an expression of bourgeois ambitions, and since in the Indies the middle class was composed overwhelmingly of non-Indonesians, its lack of appeal to the indigenous population was only natural. To the Communists this feebleness meant that the Indonesian revolution would combine the national liberation and proletarian stages of struggle and thus aim directly at establishing a socialist state. For that reason, they considered, the Indonesian revolutionary effort was on a higher plane than that of other Asian countries, where a rising native bourgeois class existed and where the independence movement was in nationalist hands. 116 This interpretation was expressed by the major Dutch mentors of the Indies Communist movement 117 and by all the Indonesian Communists who achieved international importance during this period; it was, in fact, one of the very few points on which they agreed. This analysis was not accepted by the Comintern, and it was even-

65

Rise of Indonesian Communism tually to become an important point of conflict between the ECCi and the PKI. The Indonesian party was later charged with left deviation, an accusation that was true so far as the PD rejected support of nationalism as such and continued to aim for a socialist and not a national-democratic revolution. On the other hand, PD opposition to nationalism by no means meant that it refused to cooperate with the "national.. movement The Indonesian Communist leaders therefore were not in the same category as India's M. N. Roy, who consistently opposed cooperation with non-Communist mass movements; they supported Indonesian participation in the SI but argued that that movement was in essence neither bourgeois nor nationalist. Since the antinationalist view was held by the Semarang as well as the Surabaja faction and by the Indonesians as well as the Dutch, the transfer of power that took place at the May 1920 party congress did not mean a change in policy. Indeed, Baars stressed that the change of name to PKI would not entail this: "we have always made it a point of honor and a point of our practical policy to direct our glance first of all to the events taking place in the world at large; we have been strong and principled internationalists, combating nationalism here as a thing fatal to the proletarian and peasant population ... 118 After the May meeting, a referendum was held among the party branches to confirm the decision to change the organization's name. The party locals showed themselves overwhelmingly in favor of the Communist title, and when the results of the poll were received, the executive called a special congress for December 24, 1920, to consider affiliation with the Comintern. 59 The party leadership stated plainly that it expected the congress to rubber stamp the proposal: In point of fact the executive views this congress as a formality. In deciding to name ourselves a "Communist party" we made it self-evident that we would also affiliate ourselves to the international Communist organization.80

The reason for the meeting, it was explained, was to head off any possible objections from Indies Communists or the Comintern as to the procedure by which affiliation was decided. It was not expected that there would be any objections to the proposal itself: after all, the executive pointed out, there had been no protests about Sneevliet representing the PKI at the recent Comintern congress. The party had learned of this only after the meeting was over, and the Semarang branch of the PKI and SI had immediately acted to remove any doubts as to his qual66

Joining the Comintern ifications by authorizing him to represent the two parties "wherever this is necessary in his opinion." 81 AfBliation with the Comintem was not so simple a matter as the executive indicated, however; the party still had to adjust its views to the Asian policy outlined by the International. On November 20, two weeks after the PKI executive announced its intention to link the party to the Comintern, Het Vrije Woord published the first detailed reports of the Interoational's decisions on the national and colonial question. 82 Baars, speaking for the editors of Het Vrije Woord, chose first to emphasize the similarity between the Comintem theses and the PKI view: The international congress in Moscow has thus accepted our tactic as a Communist one in the sense that the delegates there have, on theoretical and practical grounds, determined a standpoint and prescribed a line of action which for us no longer needs to be determined and prescribed because it has already long been our own. 83

As he proceeded, however, he let his reservations be known: In point of fact, nothing was determined for us [by the theses on the national and colonial questions], for on reading the theses it will be clear to everyone that they were drawn up with a special view to India and Egypt. Conditions there are different: among the nationalists in those countries can be found real revolutionaries who are driven wholly by idealism and who do not shrink before difficulties; and the attitude of the Communists there can thus be a different one from that taken here. . . . Even so, the theses concede, in our opinion, too much to nationalism. It is true that the Communist International has gone beyond the slogan that "national freedom" must come before the class struggle; but it still expects too much from nationalism and therefore spares it too greatly.

it is understandable and forgivable," Baars explained, "that it is the Russians most of all who do this, since for them the nationalism of the oppressed middle classes in India, Egypt, and elsewhere really is an enormous help in the struggle against England, the leader of the Entente." His estimation of the importance of Russia's national interest in shaping the colonial theses was very much to the point, and Russophile that he was, Baars allowed that if Indonesia had been a British dependency "it would have been very possible that-in order to help our Russian comrades and thus to deal the ruling power's imperialism a very serious blow-we would seek closer relations with nationalism." We can almost hear Baars' sigh of relief, however, as he found

ol

Rise of Indonesian Communism himself able to draw the conclusion that, inasmuch as Indonesia was a colony and Holland was too busy making money to take part in European politics, this gesture of solidarity need not be made. Anyhow, he concluded, Indies nationalism was not really against Dutch rule: Here, however, nationalism is not revolutionary, and the ruling power does not fear it, but on the contrary Birts with it. We can thus proceed in precisely the same line which we have followed without hesitation until now, thereby acting completely in the spirit of the Communist International.

If Baars's views were opposed as unorthodox by any of his comrades, there is no record of it. There was one point on which Comintem decisions did change PKI policy, however, and that was the matter of Volksraad participation. At its 1920 congress, the International determined that Communist movements were to conclude alliances with parties of the non-Communist left where possible, to participate in elections, and to use their parliamentary position to strengthen the leftist alliance. This strategy, known as the "united front from above; was advocated by the Comintern from 1920 to 1927; its opposite number, the •united front from below," was followed from 1928 to 1934 and called for the Communists to attack rather than to ally with the leadership of the non-Communist left in an effort to win over its supporters to their own party. The ISDV/PKI strategy on parliamentary participation had been curiously schizophrenic up to this point. The party had always taken part in town council (gemeenteraad) elections in the major Javanese cities, had formed alliances with other parties for electoral purposes, and had taken committee work in the councils seriously.14 Its position on the Volksraad was extremely ambiguous, however. At first the party had planned to participate in the elections to the 1918 Volksraad, and it joined with the SI, Budi Utomo, and Insulinde to support the centrist ISDV leader Westerveld as a common candidate. The radicals were never more than lukewarm to the idea, however, and Semaun was violently opposed (we will remember that his attacks on Vollcsraad participation were an immediate cause of the Revisionist departure from the party). When the ISDV's partners in the electoral alliance wished to water down the campaign platform that the ISDV executive presented them, the party was only too willing to withdraw from the coalition and campaign against those who did participate. 1115

68

Joining the Comintern The ISDV boycott of the Volksraad was motivated principally by the thought that the assembly was doomed to political failure. Such a body had been debated in the Dutch parliament for twenty-five years, and by the time it was finally established no one, Indonesian or Dutch, expected much to come of it. Its functions were purely advisory, and its method of selection made it seem highly unlikely that the left opposition would receive any representation at all. 68 With so little prospect of achieving anything by participation, it is not surprising that the ISDV decided to boycott the Volksraad in the hope of being able to say "I told you so" to the opposition groups that tried their luck. This tactic proved to be a mistake, for although Abdul Muis was the only member of the Indonesian opposition to be elected, Governor General van Limburg Stirum appointed to the council some of the more outspokenly anticolonial political leaders in an effort to draw the Indonesian opposition into cooperation with the government. Among them were Tjipto Mangunkusumo of Insulinde and Tjokroaminoto of the Sarekat Islam; the latter barely managed to gain party permission to assume the post, for there was a strong noncooperation element in the SI, which seriously doubted that the appointment should be accepted.87 If the general composition of the Volksraad had been as conservative as had been widely prophesied, the ISDV could have hoped that the participating members of the Indonesian opposition would have been frustrated and angered by their experience. However, it happened that the conservative Europeans, uninterested in what they considered an unnecessary appendage to Indies government, did not bother to form parties, and those who did take an interest were largely from the Ethically inclined minority. Consequently, the elections resulted in a victory for the NIVB, a party that stood solidly behind Van Limburg Stirum's program of Indonesian-Dutch association in colonial government.08 Together with the representatives from the "'radical" partiesBudi Utomo, lnsulinde, Sarekat Islam, and SOAP (ISDP)-this group formed a majority of the council. With the Volksraad so constituted, there seemed a chance that the participating Indonesians, instead of being antagonized by their European colleagues, would find common ground with them and would thus be inJluenced away from the revolutionary Ief t. An even greater danger to the ISDV was posed by the creation of the Radical Concentration in response to the events of November 1918. 69

Rise of Indonesian Communism The party was not excluded from this alliance, for it was invited to take part with the proviso that it cease opposing participation in the assembly. Although some Semarang adherents were beginning to have second thoughts on the uselessness of Volksraad participation,811 the ISDV refused to change its stand. In part this was due to the same dislike of multiparty alliance that was to prompt the ISDV to reject the Concentration of People's Liberation Movements. It did not wish a nonclass alliance, and certainly not one that included the conservative Budi Utomo. Moreover, it wished to isolate the Sarekat Islam leaders as much as possible from the ISDP and Insulinde, both to preserve its own influence on them and to prevent their seeking to redress the advance of Semarang within their organization by gaining outside support. Consequently, the ISDV refusal to participate in the Radical Concentration was coupled with frantic efforts to keep the SI out also. 70 The attempt to prevent Sarekat Islam participation failed, and although the Radical Concentration never became an effective bloc, it did provide a basis for day-to-day contact between key leaders of the SI, ISDP, and Insulinde/Sarekat Hindia. In the Volksraad context, the moderate socialist ISDP presented the chief danger to the Communists, for its representatives, familiar with parliamentary procedure and eager to influence the Indonesian delegates, gave them considerable advice and support. The ISDP was able at this time to exert a rather considerable influence on the CSI, 71 with the result that the ISDV leaders saw their position as principal European advisers to the mass movement seriously reduced. Moreover, the Volksraad participants were able to use the assembly as a podium from which to make parliamentarily immune attacks on government policy, and this became increasingly important with the steady restriction of free expression that took place after 1918. The ISDV accordingly began to question the wisdom of its Vollcsraad boycott, for the party could have used delegates there both to make propaganda and to pry the SI from its parliamentary allies. At the same time, however, powerful voices within the Semarang party faction opposed participation in any representative assembly. At the beginning of 1920 Semaun refused to take part in the committee work of the Semarang town council, of which he was a member, on the grounds that parliaments were useful to the revolutionaries only as a means of publicizing their views; serious participation, he declared, merely took up time that could be devoted to extraparliamentary activ-

70

Joining the Comintern ity. He was backed by the syndicalist-inclined Bergsma, who argued that constructive participation in the councils was self-defeating, since it could result in reforms that would only weaken the class struggle.72 Semaun's principal opponent in this argument was the Surabaja leader Hartogh, and the transfer of the party chairmanship from him to Semaun in May 1920 accordingly lessened the likelihood of PKI parliamentary activity. New elections to the Volksraad were scheduled for early 1921, but the party continued its boycott and refused to put up any candidates. Then came the news that the second Comintern congress had decided in favor of the united front from above; this tipped the balance in favor of pro-Volksraad opinion. On December 21, three days before the special congress to discuss PKI affiliation with the Comintern, Het Vrije Woord announced that the meeting would have a second item on its agenda: participation in the Volksraad.73 In the same issue of the party journal, Baars argued for reversal of PKI parliamentary policy. In doing so, he warned that although the opinion of the Comintern should be weighed in reaching a decision, it should not be the sole reason for changing course: We could content ourselves with calling on the decision taken in Moscow, which leaves no doubt that the Communists must take part in parliamentary elections and must assume seats in parliament if elected. . . . There is a tendency among the European parties, as has appeared from the events following the Moscow congress, which attempts to treat the theses of that congress the way a Christian does his Bible, and which wishes to suffice with saying "it must be done," thus cutting off further discussion. However much we must applaud true internationalism as a mighty step forward, . • . we feel it necessary to guard most strongly against a spirit which demands blind subjection to Moscow's commands. 7•

Baars went on to remark that Comintern decisions had been generally made with an eye to more developed countries than Indonesia, lands where the revolution was closer at hand and Communist parties could think of organizing workers' and peasants' soviets to seize power: Here in the Indies, however, there is no question of soviets or their beginnings: here our abstention [from the first Volksraad elections] was connected with the fact that in our opinion no real parliament existed. Now we must determine our position anew on the occasion of the second elections for the Volksraad-keeping in mind, naturally, the spirit of the decisions taken in Moscow, but also knowing that conditions like those in the Indies were not taken into consideration there. 73 71

Rise of Indonesian Communism As if to emphasize that the Intemational's attitude would not be the sole reason for a policy change, the party executive placed the question first on the agenda, before the matter of Comintem affiliation, and discussed it almost solely in terms of the situation in Indonesia. The chief debate was between Baars, the proponent of participation,71 and Bergsma, who pointed out that the PKI could never hope to win an elected seat-it was too late to enter a candidate for the 1921 elections anyway-and that it would therefore have to rely on appointment by the Governor General. This, in Bergsma's view, was entirely too humiliating a method. Moreover, he maintained, Moscow's ideas about having Communist spokesmen in parliament were fine in principle, but in practice the PKI needed all its capable people for work among the masses.77 Semaun, previously the most vehement spokesman against participation, was ready to reverse himself on the grounds that there were too few other opportunities for publicly criticizing the government. He pointed out that the candidate would have to be a Dutchman, since all the competent Indonesian party leaders were disqualified because they had served prison terms. This fitted his idea of the Dutch role in the party; he maintained that the European members were little qualified by language and customs to deal with the Indonesian masses and could therefore well he spared for the peripheral function of parliamentary representation. 78 After a lengthy debate a vote was taken, and Vol1csraad participation was overwhelmingly approved. 71 The congress named J. C. Stam, an executive member from Surabaja, as its candidate. Not long afterward, however, the PKI discovered that its candidate was due to go to the Netherlands on leave, a fact he had somehow neglected to mention at the congress. 80 The party therefore appointed Baars in his stead. He hardly was in thf: category of useless European; however, he was well aware that his return to the Indies had been something of a fluke; anxious to avoid expulsion, he had avoided public activities that might give cause for banishment 81 Under these circumstances, being able to air his opinions with parliamentary immunity undoubtedly seemed attractive, for Baars was not a man who bore silence easily. The party debate on Volksraad participation was curiously unrealistic, for it rested on the assumption that the Governor General would appoint a representative of the PKI. Van Limburg Stirum had assigned seats in the first Volksraad to prominent Indonesian opponents of the

72

Joining the Comintem regime with the idea of persuading them to be more cooperative; he was hardly likely to appoint a European representative who guaranteed to sabotage any tendencies toward moderation among the Indonesians. Moreover, the Governor General had grown increasingly dubious of his original decision, for he had been greatly disturbed by the sharp criticisms the Indonesians leveled at the government in the opening Volksraad debates. The opposition parties were less cooperative than ever, and all three major Indonesian leaders in the Volksraad-Tjolcroaminoto, Abdul Muis, and Tjipto MangunkusuIJ)o--had been implicated in the violent resistance of 1919. The PKI seemed to realize the futility of its plan during the Volksraad campaign, for as soon as the election results were announced, it declared that it had been a mistake to offer a delegate for government appoinhnent, although it apparently did not withdraw Baars' candidacy. 82 The party campaigned against participation in the Volksraad, reminding the other Indonesian parties that the Indian National Congress refused such collaboration with the British authorities.83 The Governor General made his stand clear by ignoring the Communist candidate, declaring that as a matter of principle he was opposed to seating Communists in the Volksraad; shortly afterward the government added insult to injury by expelling Baars from the colony.114 Het Vri;e Woord, commenting on the Volksraad nominations, consoled the party with the remark that at least "we've done our duty." 86 The December 1920 PKI convention was held in the Sarekat Islam headquarters at Semarang. The walls were decorated with red and green ( it was, after all, Chrishnas Eve), and one of the party members had made a hammer-and-sickle design in batik, "so that the always charming color combination of the Javanese could prove that it, too, was suitable for the emblems of the revolution." 86 Few executive members attended the meeting: Darsono and Dengah were in jail, Sugondo had moved to Borneo, and only Stam was present of the executive members from outside Semarang. Indeed, there was only one other delegate from beyond that city, a representative from Bandung. A great many people were present from Semarang itself; the congress report described them as "thousands," most of whom must have been spectators. We can only speculate about the poor participation from beyond Semarang; perhaps sending delegates to three congresses in a year was more than most locals felt they could afford, particularly since

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Rise of Indonesian Communism the outcome of the issue to be discussed ( the Volksraad question was not brought up until a few days before the meeting) was considered certain.

Once the Volksraad issue had been settled, Semaun announced that the rest of the meeting would be held in closed session, since not everything that would be said on the matter of Comintern affiliation would be legally permissible to publish, especially if there were opponents who had to be convinced.87 Het Vrije Woord described the ensuing scene: Slowly, with dragging feet, the masses leave the scene; and finally, after half an hour, the police have also left it, having convinced themselves that those remaining are all really party members. The shrunken group collects in the middle of the hall, as far as possible from all the walls with ears; and in a hushed tone further explanations are given. 68

We do not know just what went on in this conspiratorial huddle; it seems, however, that there were indeed objections. The major problem appears to have been the Comintem denunciation of Pan-lslamism. That had been a sore subject ever since publication of the Lenin theses in Het Vrije Woord, for the anti-Communist faction in the SI had immediately and successfully claimed it meant opposition to Islam in general. It was finally decided that the party would do its best to explain just what was meant by Pan Islamism in the Comintern decree: "however," it was added, "we cannot do anything else to prevent the demagogic use of those theses." 89 There appear to have been further protests about the applicability of Comintern strategy to the Indies. A major point of the Intemational's colonial program called for the Asian Communists to advocate land redistribution and the abolition of large landholdings in order to attract peasant support. It was noted in the PKI discussion that this had little application in Indonesia: "the clause on land distribution is not correct here in the Indies, where large landownership is virtually nonexistent and village ownership is the norm." '1£ necessery," the gathering concluded, •this will be pointed out at a future international congress.• 90 Finally, the party determined that the Comintern program gave no cause to consider a shift in basic policy. As had been evident from their earlier discussion of nationalism and the Volksraad question, the PK.I leaders considered that they and not Moscow knew the Indies and that

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Joining the C omintem they had been in the business of colonial revolution long enough to determine party policy for themselves. With sublime assurance in the rightness of its previously chosen course, the PK! executive therefore pronounced that: As has previously been explained, we have followed the Communist tactic here before there existed "orders from Moscow" concerning it. We therefore

need change nothing following our affiliation as far as our tactics or method of struggle are concerned. . . . Long live the Indies Communist party, Netherlands Indies branch of the Communist International! 91

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V

The Bloc Within ALTHOUGH the second Comintern congress adopted a general policy for the East, it did not indicate just how Communist-nationalist cooperation was to be achieved. The Lenin theses had emphasized the need for alliance but had conceded very little to the Communists' prospective partners: "The idea is this, that we as Communists will only support the independence movements in the colonial lands if these movements are truly revolutionary, if their representatives do not oppose our training and organizing the peasantry and the great masses of the exploited in a revolutionary manner: 1 Such conditions would be hard to obtain under any circumstances, and the feebleness of Asian Communism made it most unlikely that the nationalists would make an ordinary alliance on these terms. If the Comintern really wished to establish Communist-nationalist cooperation, it would have to modify its demands radically or permit a relationship other than the equal partnership for Communists and their allies envisioned in the European united front from above. The International eventually chose the latter course, and Sneevliet played an important role in the choosing. "I might also suggest,• Sneevliet remarked to the second Comintern congress, "that a propaganda office of the Communist International be organized in the Far East and also in the Middle East; since the [Asian revolutionary] movement is of such great significance at the present time it would be very useful to unite under one office the work that is taking place in that region and to carry on a concentrated propaganda effort, which could not be directed satisfactorily from Moscow." 2 There seems to have been some initial hesitation regarding his proposal, but the Comintern concluded that the idea was a good one and decided to establish a Far Eastern bureau in China.8 Sneevliet was chosen as its first director, reportedly on Lenin's recommendation;' His appoinbnent in preference to a Russian or an Asian would seem to indicate general Comintern approval of the ideas he had expressed at the

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The Bloc Within second congress, if not Lenin's personal endorsement. \Ve will remember that at the meeting Sneevliet had not only advocated cooperation with non-Communist Asian revolutionaries but had also sought approval of the relationship the Indonesian party had achieved with the Sarekat Islam. Sneevliet left Russia in the early fall of 1920 and returned to Holland for a few months before going to the East. His contact with Lenin at the congress had sold him completely on the Soviet experiment; he now thoroughly endorsed Russian domination of the International and maintained more confidently than ever that "the Communists must everywhere work among the masses and penetrate into [other] organizations." 11 Leaving Holland at the end of 1920, he reached Singapore in May 1921, where he was joined by Baars, on his way to Russia after being expelled from the Indies, and by Darsono, who was making a pilgrimage to Moscow for the third Comintern congress. 6 The three revolutionaries landed in Shanghai in early June; 1 Baars and Darsono continued on their journey while Sneevliet settled down to Comintern business. The office Sneevliet established was to prove of some comfort to the Indonesian Communists, but during its first year it was not overly active in establishing links with Asian Communist movements outside China. 8 This was not Sneevliet's major purpose, however; he was in China principally to observe the situation there and to suggest a future course of Comintern action in that country. In July 1921 he attended the founding congress of the Chinese Communist Party in Shanghai but apparently only as an observer; he played no really active role at the meeting. 9 He met Sun Yat-sen in Kweilin during August or September and reportedly lectured him on the need to establish the Kuomintang as a strong, multiclass party that would unite the Chinese people-and particularly the workers and peasants--to support the national revolution. Sun is said to have agreed with Sneevliet's comments, but no formal commitment was made by either side. 111 It seems unlikely that Sneevliet had hoped for a commitment by either the Chinese Communists or the Kuomintang at this stage. Accounts difler as to whether he was instructed to deal primarily with the Kuomintang or to negotiate with any likely revolutionary force, 11 but his own comments on the Chinese situation at the time do not betray marked enthusiasm for any group. The Kuomintang, he indicated, was interested in the working class solely for its own purposes. 12 As to the 77

Rise of Indonesian Communism socialistically inclined groups, there existed only Ch'en Tu-hsiu's Can• ton coterie, which had elected to form a Communist Party; a Marxist study circle in Peking; and a heterogeneous collection of students and teachers in Shanghai. The Chinese proletariat was, in his view, much less socially conscious than were the workers of Java. "In view of theie facts," he concluded, "the immediate prospects for the development of either the labor movement or revolutionary socialist propaganda are very slim. Much weaker than in Japan, much worse than in the Netherlands Indies." 13 Sneevliet is said to have found his first meeting with Sun Yat-sen a disappointment; 14 in any event, Sun did not then appear a successful revolutionary, for he was on one of his periodic flights from Canton. In December 1921, however, Sneevliet left Shanghai for a tour of Hunan, Kwangsi, and Kwangtung provinces.1:1 Much of his three-month trip was spent in Canton, where he was delayed by the South China seamen's strilce. 11 During his visit, Sneevliet was able to take another look at the Kuomintang, which now appeared an increasingly attractive revolutionary possibility. For one thing, Sun's military position had improved considerably, and the Kuomintang was now a force to be seriously reckoned with; for another, Sneevliet's opinion of Sun's socialism was much higher, in large part because of the progress of the seamen's strilce. 17 Finally, the Comintern envoy noted that of all the districts he had visited in China, the only one in which it was possible to organize the masses was the region in which Canton was locatedKwangtung province-since its warlord, General Chen Chun-ming, had fuzzy socialist views that put him more or less on the side of the workers. 18 Sneevliet left China shortly after this journey, firmly convinced of the revolutionary value of the Kuomintang. Stopping in the Netherlands on his way to Moscow, he declared: "There can be no doubt that Sun Yat-sen's revolutionary movement possesses socialist leanings, even though its leader also bases his principles on traditional Chinese philosophy." 18 On July 17, Sneevliet reported on the Chinese situation to the Comintern executive. He declared that the International's best chances lay with the Kuomintang, and he sharply criticized the Chinese Commu• nists for their secretarian refusal to take part in the practical politics of South China. 20 His opinion was later published in the Comintern journal: 78

The Bloc Within If we Communists ... wish to work successfully, we must see to it that friendly relations are maintained between the South China nationalist movement and ourselves. The theses of the second congress are to be implemented in China, where the proletariat has as yet developed only to a very small degree, by giving active support to the revolutionary nationalist elements of the South. It is our task to attempt to hold these revolutionary nationalist elements together and to drive the whole movement to the left. 21 Sneevliet's view that the Communists must link themselves to the revolutionary movement in the South was supported by Markhlevsky, who had been working for the Comintern in the north of China. It also appears to have found the ready approval of the ECCi, for immediately after the July meeting 22 Sneevliet returned to China, this time as "Philips," Far Eastern correspondent of lnpreco" and the Communist lntemational. 23 He brought with him a letter signed by Voitinsky for the Far Eastern Section of the Comintern, ordering the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party to move immediately to Canton, the center of Sun Yat-sen's movement, and to "do all its work in close contact with Corr. [Correspondent] PIDLIPP," in accord with an ECCi decision of July 18, 1922.24 Sneevliet proceeded to Shanghai and there got Sun Yat-sen to agree that the Communists could enter the Kuomintang individually; that is, they would belong to both the KMT and the CCP, which would continue to exist as separate organizations. This done, he summoned the Chinese Communist leaders to meet with him; they did so in August 1922, at a special conference of the CCP central committee: Shortly after Sneevliet arrived in China, there took place on the Western Lake at Hangchow a meeting of the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party, at which Maring (pseudonym of Sneevliet) urged in the name of the Comintem that [the Chinese Communists] enter the .KMT. He was personally a proponent at that time of a closer cooperation between the Communist Party and the bourgeois-democratic movement, though naturally only if political independence and conscious influencing of the movement were allowed; and this was chiefly on the basis of his experiences in Indonesia. The executive of the Chinese party, however, unanimously rejected this policy, which in its opinion would be a hindrance to the carrying out of an independent policy. Only on the grounds of international discipline was it prepared to execute the decisions of the Comintem. 25

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Rise of Indonesian Communism Other accounts of this meeting ( the one quoted here is by former associates of Sneevliet who had access to his papers) leave some question whether the Chinese Communists were so opposed to the strategy that it was necessary to impose Comintern discipline. 28 However, it had undoubtedly not been their idea of the proper relationship between the two movements, for only a month before they had decided at their second party congress to pursue an alliance with the Kuomintang on the basis of equal partnership. Since Sun Yat-sen indicated about the time of the CCP conference that he was not interested in an alliance except through individual Communists joining the Koumintang, it has sometimes been suggested that the strategy originated with him. 27 What appears most likely, however, is that Sneevliet described to Sun the relationship between the Indonesian Communists and the Sarekat Islam; he may have done so as early as their first meeting, where, we will remember, he reportedly lectured the Kuomintang on the proper composition and function of a revolutionary mass movement. To Sun, this form of cooperation had distinct advantages: it helped secure Soviet support, it did not force the KMT into equal partnership with a numerically insignificant ally, and it provided a means of controlling the Communists through the organizational discipline of the Kuomintang. Knowing that this kind of arrangement existed elsewhere and that it was advocated by the Comintern representative in China, he was hardly likely to have agreed to an alliance that conceded anything more to the CCP. For Sneevliet, this method of partnership was not simply the best that the Communists could reasonably hope for in their weak position vis-a-vis the Kuomintang. He was, as we have seen, a staunch advocate of Communist participation in larger mass movements, which they could inftuence to the left through their superior organization and their energy in propaganda. If they were fortunate, they could win the non-Communist leadership to their side or drive it out, capturing the whole movement for themselves; if they were less successful, they could at least hope to emerge from the broken alliance with a good part of the mass movement's supporters. This had been his experience in working within the Sarekat Islam, and he is said to have pointed out the Indonesian example to the Chinese Communists. 28 The Chinese Communist leaders objected to Sneevliet's project on the grounds that it ignored the class interests represented by the various parties. Doctrinally, this was a very reasonable protest, for Sneev-

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The Bloc Within liet's concept contradicted the orthodox Marxist belief that political parties represent the interests of a single class. Sneevliet, however, argued that the Kuomintang was actually a multiclass party, containing both proletarian and bourgeois elements, and could therefore contain Communists as well as nationalists. 29 The Chinese classes, he claimed, were "not differentiated"; the Kuomintang was led by revolutionary bourgeois intellectuals, followed by the urban proletariat of the South, and supported by the Chinese great bourgeoisie living abroad. 80 Similarly, the ISDV leaders of Sneevliet's day had viewed the Sarekat Islam as a movement of workers, peasants, and petty bourgeoisie led by the bourgeois intelligentsia. The class character of the leadership was less important than the character of its following, for by working within the movement they could develop the class consciousness of the masses to the point where they realized that their interests lay with the Communist faction and not with their formal bourgeois leaders. Thus Baars could comment on the 1918 SI congress that, although the mass movement was still dominated by religious and nationalist elements, it would be brought to socialism by class agitation among its following: That will not be easy to accomplish; it will inevitably produce clashes among the heterogeneous elements which are now still collected in the SI. On this matter our young, enthusiastic organizers await many-and sometimes bitter-experiences. For this reason it is still absolutely necessary that a separate organization exist, where they and the others who come to us can be fully socialist, where they can garner socialist knowledge and find renewed strength after the defeats that inevitably await them. But at the moment that this development of the SI reaches its end, that it loses its religious and nationalist character and assumes exclusively a class character, at that moment the imported ISDV need only abandon its distinction from the (purged) SI in the higher unity of socialist mass action. 31

It is not certain whether the ECCi meeting of July 1922 went so far in its recommendation to cooperate with the Kuomintang as speci6cally to endorse the bloc within-although it seems unlikely that Sneevliet would have refrained from arguing for his pet theory there, or that if it had been rejected he would have urged it on the Chinese Communists immediately afterward. The ECCl's first public endorsement of the Chinese line came in a resolution of January 12, 1923, which might indicate that Sneevliet had acted on his own initiative or

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Rise of Indonesian Communism that the Comintern was too uncertain of the feasibility of the project to endorse it openly before he had succeeded in arranging it.32 However, the ECCI pronouncement coincided with Sneevliet's transfer from China: two days earlier the Comintern executive had determined to move its agent to its Far Eastern office in Vladivostok. 83 Since the ECCi resolution called on the Chinese Communists to "remain within" the Kuomintang rather than to start joining it, 84 it is possible that the resolution was intended not to announce a new policy but to confirm Sneevliet's tactic, despite his withdrawal. Although individual Communists had been entering the Kuomintang ever since the August 1922 conference, the bloc within was not formally adopted by the CCP until the summer of 1923, at its third congress,311 and only in January 1924 did party members join the Kuomintang en masse. Increasingly, however, the strategy became ;_i dominant factor in the Comintern's view of Asia, in large part because it became involved in the Stalin-Trotsky feud. The ideological basis for this quarrel was Stalin's support of alliance with the reformist socialists in Europe and the bourgeois nationalists in Asia. Trotsky fiercely opposed this, attacking the idea of a multiclass party as particularly reprehensible: In China, India, and Japan this idea is mortally hostile not only to the hegemony of the proletariat in the revolution but also to the most elementary independence of the proletarian vanguard. The workers' and peasants' party can only serve as a base, a screen, and a springboard for the bourgeoisie. 11

China, which experienced the extreme development of this cooperation and was at the same time a major objective of Soviet foreign policy, became the chief issue in their argument. The passions of the China feud inevitably affected Comintern policy elsewhere in the Far East, especially since the lnternational's decisions characteristically generalized practical considerations into universal theory. The result was an ever-increasing emphasis in Comintem Asian policy on the need to cooperate with bourgeois nationalism and a steadily growing pressure on Asian Communists to pattern their action on the Chinese example. Both in Indonesia and in China the bloc within proved an effective strategy for the rapid expansion of Communist inftuence within the national revolutionary movement. The nationalist-Communist alliance was, however, assumed by the Communists to be impermanent. The 82

The Bloc Within nationalist leadership might try to consolidate its position by refusing to allow the Communists sufficient leeway to develop their own strength; or the Communists might build their popular support to the point where a subordinate position was no longer necessary or profitable. As Stalin said, the bourgeois nationalist movement was to be squeezed like a lemon and then thrown away. The problem for the Communists was to determine when the lemon was ready to be discarded. In China, the course of the bloc-within strategy was affected considerably by Soviet interests, which required the alliance with the Kuomintang to be maintained to the bitter end. Moreover, the strategy was not well suited to a situation of armed revolution, for the Kuomintang as senior partner controlled a military force that gave it the power to tum the tables and throw the Communists away. The bloc within was better fitted to the Netherland Indies, where there was no question of control over armed strength or a state apparatus and where competition was solely between the partners for the favor of the masses and the loyalty of local and regional political leaders. Nonetheless, the Indonesian bloc within had its limitations; even before Sneevliet introduced it in China the strategy had broken down in the Indies. By 1920 the Indies Communists were asking themselves whether the Sarekat Islam had not been squeezed dry. Indeed, the aftermath of the Section B affair seemed to have drained the movement of its vital juices. Several hundred SI members had been arrested, and the major branches in the Priangan were so unnerved that only extensive missionary efforts by Alimin and Tjokroaminoto prevented them from voting their own dissolution. SI membership rapidly dwindled as a mass exodus occurred of those who disapproved of Section B or feared that Sarekat Islam membership would be held against them. Many of these, of course, were only token members, but their desertion did not help the movement's shaken prestige. Some of those who left were better-situated moderates who did not approve of the movement's radicalism and its involvement in Section B; they tended to join more conservative political movements or purely religious groups. By far the largest number, however, were peasants, most of whom had been inactive for years, and they joined no new movements. 37 The result was to increase the influence of Semarang over the SI rank and file, for those who left the movement were mostly adherents of the moderate wing, and those who remained were sympathetic to the Communists' radical 83

Rise of Indonesian Communism urban appeal and to charges that the CSI was weak in its opposition to the government.88 At the same time that the Semarang-oriented membership of the Sarekat Islam increased its relative strength, the central SI leadership became more impervious to inftuence by the Communist left Semarang was now too obvious a challenge not to be viewed with alann; moreover, the CSI leaders, badly shaken by the government reaction to Section B and anxious to keep out of trouble, found their Communist component an embarrassment. As a result, they began to look for a field of activity that would avoid challenging the government and also circumscribe the activity of the Communist element. The need to consolidate the mass movement around a coherent program had long been apparent to its leaders; as had been widely remarked at the time of the SI 1918 congress, the Sarekat Islam had passed the point at which popular expectations and Tjokroaminoto's personality could provide it with momentum and cohesion. 811 That congress had represented the high point in the movement's revolutionary inclination and in ISDV inftuence over it; although there was considerable rivalry on the leadership level, a general polarization into right and left wings had not yet taken place. The outlines of such a differentiation were already evident, however, and CSI secretary Sosrokardono summarized them as follows: 1. The right wing looks first to Islam and seeks to propagate that religion; the party of the left is content as long as its faith is not made subject to other religions in Indonesia. 2. The right wing desires a struggle against domination by another race, while the left sees racial domination as a result of sinful capitalism and therefore wishes to struggle primarily against sinful capitalism on the side of the workers and peasants, an effort directed against foreign rather than native capital. 3. Both parties encourage native capital formation: the right wing approves of the development of large Indonesian landowning and private enterprise, while the left wants nationalization of the land and cooperative enterprises. Both wish state exploitation of major indusbies and monopolies. 4. The right wing is anxious for [colonial] government aid and is concerned for the welfare of the country as a while, while the left urges selfreliance and places the interests of the common people first. The left wing takes part in the international proletarian struggle against big capital and against imperialism. 40

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The Bloc Within In 1919-1920 these divergent tendencies sharpened into a serious cleavage, as the increase in leftist influence over the rank and file, alarm at government reaction to the events of 1919, and growing personal bitterness among the faction leaders divided the movement. The left wing within the Sarekat Islam looked, of course, to Semarang, where the SI executive was identical with the local PKI leadership. The right wing came increasingly to tum to Jogjakarta and to center about the CSI members Surjopranoto, Abdul Muis, and Hadji Agus Salim. Muis had an abiding dislike of the Semarang group since the time of the Indie Weerbar action, and Surjopranoto was Semaun's chief rival for leadership of the labor federation. Salim was a moderate socialist, with close connections in the ISDP, and was also a proponent of the modernist movement in Indonesian Islam. Neither Muis nor Surjopranoto was particularly concerned for religious action; but Jogjakarta was the center of Islamic reformism in Java, Salim was becoming increasingly powerful in the SI, and religion was a cause that was popular, nonrevolutionary, and not exploitable by the left. The weight of Jogjakarta influence in the SI thus favored a religious orientation. Between these two groups stood Tjokroaminoto. Far more than any other leader he symbolized the Sarekat Islam, and the mass following the SI had acquired was in great part loyal to him rather than to the movement itself. He was a strongly charismatic leader; his political style was similar to that of his sometime protege, Sukarno, and his influence lay in his acknowledged primacy as a popular leader and in his ability to balance rival factions against each other. He was an orator and not an organizer; unlike the faction leaders, he represented no special interest within the movement but attempted to represent a synthesis of its various interests. His principal concern was to preserve the unity of the Sarekat Islam; his position depended on this, and he realized also that once the SI appeared to represent particular interests it would lose its remaining prestige as the representative of all Indonesians. By 1920, Tjokroaminoto's primacy was in serious question. The Section B affair had shaken his position severely; not only did the government blame him for it, but those who earlier had questioned his policies were given added reason to think he had outlived his usefulness. It was not a time for oratory and emotion, but for consolidation and discipline, they argued. Tjokroaminoto himself agreed on the need for retrenchment, for government investigations of the Section B were 85

Rise of Indonesian Communism placing him in an increasingly awkward position, and it seemed that he might end in prison. Consequently, his defiant expressions of the 1919 SI congress were soon replaced by words of caution; in June 1920 he appealed to all SI members to avoid controversy and not irritate the authorities.41 Tjokroaminoto's caution annoyed those SI members-by no means all from the Semarang faction-who thought that the proper stance for a popular leader was one of heroic defiance and that he was abandoning his accused colleagues in their hour of need. Moreover, Tjokroaminoto seemed no longer able to take the political initiative. He had supported SI involvement in the labor movement as a means of taking the SI out of political controversy; but he had thus played into the hands of his two major rivals, Semaun and Surjopranoto, for the strength of the labor-oriented left was increasing alanningly within the movement. Tjokroaminoto was not overly concerned with ideology, but he was not willing to concede the leadership of his organization. He could not forgive the stinging personal criticisms the ISDVfPKI leaders had frequently addressed to him, attacks to which he grew all the more sensitive as his position weakened. Neither was he blind to Surjopranoto's hope to succeed to the SI chairmanship via his role as Indonesia's "strike king." 42 To offset the advance of his labor-oriented rivals, Tjokroaminoto began increasingly to support a religious focus for the SI, a course he had toyed with on previous occasions. This brought him closer to Hadji Agus Salim and his ally Hadji Fachrudin, the vice-chairman of the Muslim educational and social welfare association, Muhammadijah. Both these Jogjakarta leaders were modernists, who advocated the purification of Indonesian Islam from local traditions and its adjustment to the requirements of the times. They were also Pan-Islamists, and in June 1920 Tjokroaminoto joined them in setting up a committee for the defense of the Turkish Chalifate. He hoped thereby to generate a religious momentum for the SI, but his effort was immediately opposed by Semarang on the grounds that politics and religion did not mix. All this meant that the SI chairman became increasingly dependent on the Jogjakarta wing of his movement, and the effective headquarters of the CSI accordingly began to shift from Surabaja, Tjokroaminoto's home, to Jogjakarta. 43 Under these circumstances, the Communists began to ask themselves whether it was useful for them to continue to endorse Tjokroaminoto's 86

The Bloc Within leadership of the mass movement by professing loyalty to him as head of the SI. Their attitude toward the movement had always been a patchwork of contradictions, the inconsistency of which could be ignored only as long as the SI appeared to be moving in a revolutionary direction. Thus far the party's tacit assumption had been that Semarang's rising strength in the national movement would lead to a seizure of power from within; this would presumably take place before independence, since the PKI viewed the Indonesian revolution as aiming directly at socialism and thus not requiring bourgeois democratic leadership. By 1920, however, it was apparent that the Communists had reached the limits of the pressure they could put on the SI leaders. If the party wished to remain effective within the SI, it would have to be far more considerate of non-Communist sensitivities, temper its bid for popular support, and try to win Tjokroaminoto back to a more neutral position. Alternatively, the PKI could press a radical antigovernment program and destroy Tjokroaminoto's personal prestige in an attempt to loot the mass movement of the membership that remained to it. This action, outwardly more radical, would in fact reHect a more conservative view of the political situation; for it would mean that the Communists had given up hope of claiming revolutionary authority over the broader mass movement in order to build an organization that would stand through a long season of reaction and retreat. The Dutch party members were particularly strong advocates of the second line. As we have seen, they were greatly disturbed by the Section B affair; no less than the CSI leaders, they felt that the incident and the government's response necessitated consolidating and disciplining the mass movement. At first, encouraged by SI interest in labor organization, they sought to achieve this goal within the Sarekat Islam framework. 44 However, when it became apparent that the SI leaders were interested in unions as an escape from revolutionary politics rather than as an avenue to it, their reservations about subordination to non-Communist leadership were strengthened. In August 1920 Baars and Bergsma published on behalf of the PKI a detailed set of theses to guide the party's more distant branches in formulating their relationships to non-Communist groups. The theses formed a striking contrast to those Sneevliet was then supporting at the second Comintem congress, for they resembled Roy's view and not Lenin's. In summary, they were as follows:

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Rise of Indonesian Communism 1. "Every popular movement must be carried on by the action of the most completely oppressed [part of the] masses." Any popular movement, therefore, that is led by classes or groups occupying a more or less preferred position-and this includes skilled labor-is doomed to compromise and will desert to the enemy camp as soon as the true members of proletariat have developed a class consciousness of their own. 2. The above statement is true of Indonesian popular movements,

as shown by the fact that they have inevitably ended by compromising and betraying the workers. 3. The action of the privileged group in Indonesia is also characterized by an anarchic and aimless nature; its leaders do not strive to make the masses socially conscious. Instead, "the present-day movement very consciously puts a new spiritual slavery ( the power of the leaders) in the place of the old ( respect for authority)." 4. "An Indies socialist movement will have to derive its support solely horn the proletarianized agricultural workers and the industrial proletariat." There is no use for the Communists to work with other groups, not even with such organizations of skilled workers as the chauffeurs' and truck drivers' union, since "all these organizations are in any case doomed to bourgeoisincation." 5. The Indies Communists must consider it their first duty to bring the proletarian masses to self-consciousness and a spirit of resistance. Until this is achieved, all actions will be ineffective. ine present native movement is absolutely powerless precisely because it is a bourgeois movement and does not desire the consciousness of the masses." 6. The first object is therefore to organize the industrial proletariat and to teach it socialism, at the same time carrying on propaganda among the proletariat organized in the Sarekat Islam, Sarekat Hindia, and Budi Utomo. The bourgeois nationalist leaders must be exposed, not collaborated with: "Agitation together with bourgeois leaders for bourgeois purposes has no use." 7. As long as the workers' movement remains as weak as it is, its activities must be carried out cautiously in order that the few existing leaders may not be lost through arrest. The theses concluded with the following advice to the new branches being established outside Java: We have had enough sad experience in Java with regard to cooperation with bourgeois and semibourgeois elements, and we cannot advise our comrades

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The Bloc Within in the Outer Islands too strongly to follow our policy and avoid all actions of that sort. It is better to remain small for the time being and to lay a so1Dld basis rather than to expand rapidly and eventually have to break off that

which was begun with such enthusiasm. 43 The PKI theses reflected a retreat into radical dogma by profoundly disenchanted Europeans, but at the same time they were not unrelated to the general Indonesian political mood. The SI, Sarekat Hindia, and even uncompromised Budi Utomo were also concluding that what was now needed was not broad popular influence and alliances but organizational discipline and insistence that members adhere to the principles of their own group. Inevitably, this led them to reconsider the longestablished custom of multiparty membership. In June 1920 Budi Utomo adopted the principle of party discipline, which forbade members of the association to belong to other movements. Although disapproval of the Sarekat Islam's role in the Section B affair w~. a major reason for this decision, an exception was made for membership in the SI in order to placate the younger and less conservative Budi Utomo adherents. 48 Sarekat Hindia and the PKI responded with party discipline requirements of their own, again excepting the all-important Sarekat Islam. For the time being, the CSI took no action itself. Party discipline, destroying the last hope of a unified Indonesian movement, was a course Tjokroaminoto would accept only if all other alternatives failed. Moreover, such an action would reduce the Si's stature from one of implied primacy to that of equality with the other parties. Within the Jogjakarta faction, however, voices began to be heard in favor of expelling those who would not be loyal solely to the Sarekat Islam. Like Baars and Bergsma, the Jogjakarta leaders thought the time had come to abandon the idea of leading an amorphous mass movement and that ideological and organizational discipline must be the order of the day. In the first half of 1920 polarization developed principally within the framework of the PPKB, the latest and last cooperative effort of the PKI-SI alliance. Relations within the federation were exceedingly complex, since the executive had practically no control over its component unions, which were loyal to the heterogeneous political viewpoints of their individual leaders. 47 Moreover, the rivalry between Semarang and Jogjakarta within the PPKB was heightened because its two principal leaders-Surjopranoto and Semaun-both wanted Tjokroaminoto's position as chief of the SI. The competition between Semarang 89

Rise of Indonesian Communism and Jogjakarta within the federation was thus particularly intense, with the result that the PPKB more often resembled a political battlefield than a functioning labor organization. Surjopranoto was, we will remember, the head of the sugar workers' PFB. During 1919 and early 1920 acute unrest in the sugar areas enabled the PFB to organize the plantation workers rapidly; and in March 1920 the union sent a memorandum to the Sugar Syndicate containing various wage .demands and the request that the PFB be recognized as the sugar workers' bargaining agent. The employers replied that they would fire all members of the PFB if any action were taken. At this point the government took a hand; it assured the industry that it would not tolerate political strikes, but it sharply criticized the planters for refusing to negotiate or to improve wages. The Governor General ordered the Residents in the sugar areas to investigate working conditions on the plantations, taking evidence not only from estate administrators but also from workers and their chosen spokesmen ( that is, PFB representatives). It began to seem that the estates might be forced to recognize the PFB as a bargaining agent; they therefore decided to back down on their employees' economic demands, and they doubled wages and improved benefits considerably. 48 For the PFB this victory was a hollow one. It had gained what the workers wanted but not what the union needed-its recognition as a bargaining agent. Such acceptance was doubly necessary because Indonesian workers of that day were inclined to view unions solely as associations formed to lead strilces; they joined them in times of hardship, but once their basic economic demands were satisfied-or the strike failed-they lost all interest in the organization. This was a phenomenon that plagued the Indonesian labor movement as a whol~, and it was particularly marked among the less skilled wage earners in private enterprises, who were least inclined to organize, least able to pay dues, and most vulnerable to employer retaliation. 411 Realizing the precarious position in which nonrecognition placed both his union and his political ambitions, Surjopranoto determined to take advantage of the momentum the PFB had built up to force a strike for the acknowledgment of his union as the sugar workers' bargaining agent. In June, shortly before the beginning of the harvest season ( the only time when the plantations were in need of a full labor force and hence vulnerable) Surjopranoto declared to a wildly cheering rally that a general sugar strike would take place unless the employers agreed

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The Bloc Within immediately to recognize the PFB. The estates had not yet felt the power df the union, he declared; of the thirty•six sugar strikes thus far, only three had actually been sponsored by the PFB. This was no compliment to union organization, but to Surjopranoto spirit, not discipline, was the essence. He asserted that the union's lack of a war chest and its inadequate preparation need not discourage the strikers; the workers were used to poverty and hardship, and temporary loss of income would therefore not make much difference to them. 11G Tjokroaminoto backed Surjopranoto's demand, although his enthusiasm was understandably limited. Hadji Agus Salim strongly supported Surjopranoto, in good part from a desire to embarrass Semarang and to take control of the labor federation away from it. The leftist leaders themselves were in a very unpleasant predicament. They had no desire to bolster the Jogjakarta-based labor movement or to enhance Surjopranoto's position; moreover, it seemed obvious the strike would be a disaster since it was unlikely to be strongly supported by either the workers or the government. At the same time, they could not sit back and wait to say "I told you so" to a defeated PFB. The Semarang leaders had won much of their support in the mass movement by arguing that the CSI was a donothing leadership, and it would ill serve them to allow the accusation to be reversed. Caution was too easily equated in the popular mind with cowardice in politics or labor; a leader was supposed to be a hero, willing to face overwhelming odds without fear of the consequences. Moreover, if the Communists refused to participate actively in the strike, their opponents would probably blame them for its failure, and a good deal of this blame might stick. Already it had been publicly suggested in Jogjakarta that the Communists be expelled from the PPKB; the PKI could ill afford to refuse to endorse the strike at the federation's forthcoming congress, for this would almost surely mean a split on unfavorable terms for Semarang. 51 The labor federation's meeting was held in Semarang on August 1. The fires of disagreement burned briskly at the meeting, and they were industriously stoked by European advisers on both sides ( Communists for Semarang, ISDP socialists for Jogjakarta) who did not share the common Indonesian preference for unity above ideology. Semaun debated hotly with Surjopranoto over the strike plans and his refusal to cooperate with the PPKB, and for a while a break seemed unavoidable. As usual, it was Tjokroaminoto who compromised the crisis, this time 91

Rise of Indonesian Communism by a truly heroic effort in which he declared, on the one hand, that he was in principle a Communist and, on the other-in order to avert demands that the PPKB taJce decisions on discipline and union organization that would favor Semarang-that the congress was not the place to discuss federation policies. The meeting ended by confirming Semaun as chairman of the federation; but its headquarters were moved to Jogjakarta, with Tjolcroaminoto's backing, thus hopelessly tangling its lines of control. 112 Immediately after the congress proper a meeting of PPKB leaders was held to complete the plans for a sugar strike. Surjopranoto had already indicated what he wanted from S~marang-help with agitation and a VSTP strike against railroad lines serving the sugar mills. The Communists agreed, but they must have done so with heavy heartsthe sugar harvest was ending, and Semaun and Bergsma were engaged in VSTP wage negotiations that would have been ruined by a pro-PFB railway strike. An ultimatum was accordingly issued to the Sugar Syndicate by the PFB, accompanied by a general strike warning from the labor federation. Meanwhile, the various sponsors of the sugar strike scattered to whip up enthusiasm among the potential strikers. As Semaun traveled about the district assigned to him and acquainted himself with grassroots disinterest, he became convinced that the strike would be a disaster of much greater magnitude than he and Bergsma had imagined. Desperately he wired his findings to PFB headquarters in Jogjakarta and asked for another meeting to reconsider the strike plan. His messages were promptly intercepted and published by an enterprising Dutch reporter. 5=1 At this painful moment, the Sugar Syndicate rejected negotiation with the PFB on any basis, and the Resident of Jogjakarta warned that the government would taJce firm measures against strike leaders and agitators if the union proceeded any further with its plans. The SI leaders breathed a sigh of relief, for it enabled them to retire gracefully from what had promised to be a catastrophe. The affair by no means improved their feelings toward Semarang, however; nor did it further unity in the PKI itself, for Baars, long a proponent of agrarian action centered in the sugar areas, denounced Semaun's reversal as "undisciplined and on-Communist." 114 Shortly after this the PFB declined into obscurity, the victim of discouragement and employer retaliation.1111 No further efforts to organize the sugar workers ( or any other plantation laborers) succeeded 92

The Bloc Within during the colonial period. Moreover, the failure of the PFB concluded effective political activity among the rural masses of the sugar areas, which had so long seemed the obvious center of revolutionary activity on Java. The PFB disaster also ended Jogjakarta's tolerance of the Communists. Salim and Surjopranoto moved to dislodge Semarang from the Sarekat Islam by announcing a conference of the CSI to be held in Jogjakarta at the end of September, to set a date for the next SI congress. The idea was to declare that, contrary ·to all expectations, there would be a convention in October. A congress meeting in that month would have to do without a number of the principal SI chiefs, among them Tjokroaminoto, who were either in jail or appearing at the Section B trials. That, however, was just what was wanted by the Jogjakarta group, for the missing leaders were mostly from the center and left and therefore might be reluctant to break with the Communists. Consequently, Salim and Surjopranoto ignored Tjokroaminoto's telegraphic appeal to delay the convention and set the date for October 16--only two weeks away. 56 Semaun was unable to attend the CSI meeting that called the congress, and he sent Darsono as his emissary. Darsono was denied admission on the grounds that he was not a full CSI member, but as soon as the meeting adjourned he made his presence felt in a disastrously effective manner. On October 6 he began to publish a series of articles implicating Tjokroaminoto in the gross misuse of SI funds and asking for a full investigation of the association's finances. 57 There was good reason to think that Darsono's allegations were true, for the CSI treasury was notoriously empty. Financial responsibility was not one of the characteristic virtues of the SI leadership, and the Communists themselves do not seem to have been completely free of wea1c:ness in pecuniary matters. 5 8 Understandably, however, Tjokroaminoto viewed Darsono's move as a stab in the back.1111 His public image was struck a blow it could ill endure, for the popular ideal was that of a "pure" leader, the image of the Ratu Adil. Much could be forgiven a public hero as long as he maintained an aura of nobility and authority, but once the idol had become tarnished it quickly lost its worshipers; and Tjokroaminoto's appeal had already been seriously compromised by Section B and its aftermath. The Jogjakarta SI leaders were not included in Darsono's attack; 60

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Rise of Indonesian Communism nonetheless, his accusations damaged their position considerably, for they needed Tjokroaminoto's prestige as a non-Communist SI leader to obtain the support necessary to jettison the left. When the accusations brought no ready reply from Tjokroarninoto, they concluded that it would be unwise to face up to Semarang; and so, suddenly discovering that few SI leaders could attend, they postponed the congress.81 The attack was by no means a complete disaster for them, however, for it threw Tjokroaminoto into their hands. The SI chairman could not even rely on his own Oetoesan Hindia for support, and the Surabaja SI organization was almost totally demoralized. 82 Directly after the congress postponement the Jogjakarta leaders announced the removal of CSI headquarters from Surabaja to their own city. A few days later Salim and Surjopranoto met with Tjokroaminoto in Batavia and secured his acquiescence in this transfer and in a reorganization of the CSI that took all real control of the movement away from him. 83 Tjokroaminoto and the Jogjakarta leaders now exchanged polemics with Semarang over Darsono's criticisms. The tirades were instructive both for their attacks ( which showed what they felt the public would believe and disapprove of about their opponents) and for the points on which they protested their own innoetmce. Both sides announced 6rst of all that they did not want to split the Sarekat Islam: unity of the national movement must be the first consideration. Both insisted they only wished to purify the association of undesirable elements that were harming it. Semarang declared it wished to do this by ridding the SI of corrupt and vacillating leaders; Jogjakarta sought to accomplish it by expelling the disruptive Communist component. Both sides agreed that the principal struggle must be against capitalism, and the Jogjakarta leaders generally stated the opinion that Communism must be Indonesia's economic goal. Semarang claimed that its opponents were insincere in their anticapitalist protestations; Jogjakarta approved of the Communists' principles but not of their divisive methods.Mi While the Jogjakarta leaders concentrated on painting the Communists as disrupters of Indonesian unity and slanderers of self-sacrificing leaders, they also developed two other lines of argument that were deeply embarrassing to the PKI. The first was that the Communists, for all their revolutionary talk, were in fact cowards when it came to opposing the government. Surjopranoto brought up Semaun's telegrams at the time of the threatened PFB strike and charged that these had defeated the effort. This attack was the more damaging because 94

The Bloc Within Semarang had not been involved in the major antigovemment incidents of 1919, and it was not Communist leaders who were currently on trial. Moreover, 1920 had been a year of great labor activity, with workers in all fields demanding higher wages to meet the increased cost of living; frequently they struck and, facing defeat, appealed to the Semarang-led PPKB for aid. The federation had managed, principally because of government support, to achieve some success in a printing strike in Semarang earlier in the year. However, it was in no position to rescue most of the labor groups that asked for help, 811 and Semaun found himself repeatedly admonishing labor organizers that warm hearts must be accompanied by cool heads. Moreover, he and Bergsma were engaged in VSTP negotiations to acquire wages and bargaining rights for private railroad workers equivalent to those employees on the state-owned line. Since their best hope lay in securing a government ruling on the matter, they cooperated with the authorities and opposed wildcat strike efforts, a strategy that caused some of the more militant private-line employees to charge that the VSTP represented the privileged group of state workers. All this gave Jogjakarta a chance to fit the shoe of weak leadership to Semarang's foot, and the anti-Communists made the most of it.116 A second line of attack against the PKI was provided by the Comintern. We will remember that Lenin's theses were published by the PKI in November and furnished grounds for the charge that Communists were against Islam. The attack was led by Pan-Islamists Salim and Fachrudin; they declared that the thesis opposed "the unity of Islam," and not, as Semarang tried to claim, "the evil use of Islam," that is, the utilization of religion to justify greed and oppression. The Communists hotly denied any incompatibility between their principles and Islam, and replied to charges that included ( since the antithesis to Islam was popularly seen not as atheism but foreign-imposed Christianity) that of being a tool of Dutch imperialism and Christian missionaries. 67 The PKI admitted at its December 1920 congress, however, that it had no effective way to repulse these blows. A third salient was opened on the labor front when the PFB and the pawnshop workers' PPPB announced that they refused to cooperate with the Communists in the labor federation. Each side blamed the other for having paralyzed the PPKB with factional fighting, and a split in the organization seemed imminent. 118 Nonetheless, a break did not take place; although the PPKB was anything but a functioning 95

Rise of Indonesian Communism organization, it was still a symbol of Indonesian unity and neither side wished to be blamed for destroying it. Each faction therefore maneuvered to achieve a situation in which its opponent would be forced to make the break. At this point, however, it was not to anyone's advantage to bring matters to a bead. The Jogjakarta faction, its position shaken along with Tjokroaminoto's, did not feel ready to push the issue; Semarang had no practical interest in a split, for in spite of Jogjakarta's counterattacks it had the initiative in the Sarekat Islam, where its influence among the rank and file continued to grow.18 Moreover, SI morale was visibly deteriorating under the impact of the dispute; branch activity seemed at a standstill, and its unions were split by dissent. The Dutch-language press had capitalized on the revelations of corruption and factional self-seeking, and the arrest of various Indonesian opposition leaders in November added to the protests that Semarang and Jogjakarta were only serving the Dutch by feuding. If the SI centers were to coexist, however, it was apparent that they would have to find some basis for relations other than the hotly traded insult. The first moves were made by the Communists; Semaun, in particular, seems to have had serious reservations about Darsono's attack and about the desire of his more sectarian colleagues to break with the Sarekat Islam. 70 Darsono was one of the Indonesian politicians jailed in November, and immediately afterward the Communist journals, under Semaun's direction, began to publish articles deploring the disruptive effects of the dispute and assuming a more or less neutral stand on Darsono's action. 71 At the end of December the CSI announced that, in view of the PKI's positive attitude at its recent congress, it was willing to end the dispute. This was followed by a PFB decision not to abandon the trade union federation,12 and the Jogjakarta SI declared that it would be content if Darsono were expelled at the next SI congress. Just before the SI convention, which was held on March 2 to 6, 1921, Semaun and Hadji Agus Salim drew up a program founded on Islamic and Communist principles, which they presented to the meeting as a basis of agreement: In all [its] policies and aspirations the Sarekat Islam is inspired by the principles and precepts of Islam: a) Regarding state power, there mwt be a people's government, with the right to appoint and discharge officials in the common interest. b) Regarding management of the various types of labor, councils must

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The Bloc Within be formed composed of the leaders of these groups of workers who will direct them at their tasks. c) Regarding production and the seeking of a living, every person must work with all his strength and heart, but in no wise may he appropriate for himself the fruits of another's labor; which requirement can be met at present by returning the wealth and property used for production to the common ownership of the people. d) Regarding the division of the fruits of toil, Islam forbids anyone from hoarding these for himself, requiring instead that the common interest be served by using the results of all labor to further the goal of human equality. It is felt this can be achieved only if the distribution of products and profits is in the hands of a popular representative assembly. 73

The March SI congress continued this theme of disengagement. The major issues were disposed of fairly quickly and amiably; Darsono, having been disavowed by his party and attacked by SI delegates loyal to Tjolcroaminoto, apologized for the manner though not the substance of his accusations. 74 He was appointed member of a committee to investigate Tjokroaminoto's use of CSI funds, thus effectively burying that issue ( for it was tacitly assumed that nothing would come of the investigation), and motions of confidence in both Tjokroaminoto and Semaun were then passed. The PKI chairman forestalled religious criticism by declaring his admiration for the Islamic faith and stating that he saw no reason for the Communists to become rivals of the Sarelcat Islam. Reportedly, he commented at several points that the Communists should function as intellectual leaders who would influence the mass movement from within and that as long as the Sarekat Islam followed the new unity program it would not be necessary for the PKI to establish itself as an independent party. 111 Semaun was clearly inclined to go far to preserve participation in the Sarekat Islam. For one thing, he generally favored unity above purity, and for another his position as Tjolcroaminoto's rival in the movement was now very strong, for Surjopranoto, the only other serious contender, had faded completely as a popular figure. The Salim-Semaun unity program was, after some confusion, adopted by the congress. Its statement of principles was far enough to the left to border on the Communists' own position, for it unreservedly condemned capitalism: "It is the conviction of the Sarelcat Islam that the evil of national and economic oppression must be considered exclusively a product of capitalism, so that the people of this colony, if they

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Rise of Indonesian Communism wish to be freed from that evil, must necessarily struggle against capitalism to the best of their strength and ability, above all through labor and peasant unions." 78 At the same time, however, Tjokroaminoto and Salim announced reassuringly that the declaration was based solely on the Koran and could be accepted by any Muslim. More important than this as a practical gesture toward compromise was the withdrawal of a Jogjakarta motion forbidding SI members to join other political organizations. In accord with Tjokroaminoto's advice, the question was put off until a special congress, tentatively scheduled for the end of August 1921. Meanwhile, the SI locals were to discuss the question among themselves and to inform the CSI of their views; if a branch wished to introduce party discipline itself, it could do so without the consent of the CSI. Although the PKI was among the potentially prohibited organizations, Semarang voted for the motion, which was passed unanimously by the congress.77 In spite of these public demonstrations of good will, the veneer of agreement was very thin. Before the March congress, the Si's right and left wings had filled their journals with mutual denunciations, 78 and powerful voices in both camps had argued that cooperation was useless. Baars, while he maintained that the SI could provide an important peasant-based complement to the workers' movement, declared that under its current leadership nothing could be expected of that organization: The SI has degenerated and decayed, principally by reason of the irreparable mistakes of its leadership, through its absolute lack of any sense of responsibility, and through the boundless ambition of various prominent members, who have found fatal imitation in nearly all the branches. Continued in this manner, it can end in nothing but a stinking morass full of poisonous gases. 7 11

At the congress, the Jogjakarta faction distributed a Pan-Islamic brochure by Hadji Fachrudin, which denied that Communism and Islam were at ail compatible. The Jogjakarta SI leader Abdul Muis and the Dutch PKI member Van Burink engaged in a verbal duel that brought the meeting into an uproar. Van Burinlc also quarreled with Semaun: he wished the Sarekat Islam to join the PKI in boycotting the Volksraad, but Semaun, anxious to repair his relations with Jogjakarta, urged that Hadji Agus Salim be given leave from the CSI to accept a Volksraad appointment from the Governor General. Discussion of the new SI program led to further conffict and confusion, and

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The Bloc Within Tjokroaminoto and Semaun managed to keep the congress centered on the theme of unity only with the greatest effort. 80 Reportedly, a number of Europeans in the PKI demanded at the time of the March congress that the Communists break with the CSI on principle. 81 Certainly, Het Vrife Woord gave every sign that it considered a breach inevitable and would not regret one: "We do not wish to promote the schism; the interests of the workers demand the contrary. However, if it is pushed through by the other side, we will accept it. It will be seen afterward which party has chosen the side of the workers and peasants." 82 Nonetheless, events at the congress seemed to revive their hopes that something could still be gained from the bloc within. Baars was not entirely pleased with the Salim-Semaun compromise ("We cannot be completely content with this program") but he considered the congress a victory for the left and promised to be more polite to the non-Communists in the future: To summarize our impression, we may state that iron necessity has driven the SI leaders to pursue the path pointed out by th~ Communists, even though they were extremely upset by the manner-indeed, not gentle-in which they were urged in that direction. It has appeared, however, that we must revise that method of pressure, since otherwise personal sensitivities can do too much damage to the affair. We shall indeed keep this feeling in mind in the future, though of course we cannot weaken the pressure itself.83

In general, the PKI leaders seem to have thought that the congress had represented a showdown and that they had won; they exhibited considerable optimism just after the meeting and opined that future differences would be even more easily resolved. 84 In their pleasure over the immediate achievements of the congress, the Communists seem to have forgotten that the meeting also gave the Jogjakarta leaders something they wanted: time. Tjokroaminoto's position was very weak at the March congress-even Oetoesan Hindia had suggested that "younger forces" assume the party chairmanship----and had a fight over party leadership occurred, the results would have been difficult to predict.85 The opponents of Semarang appreciated this danger and sought to avoid an immediate contest; as soon as the congress adjourned, they set about strengthening their position. To do so, they had to revive the non-Communist energies of the movement, which were by now seriously weakened. Of the 200-odd registered Sarekat Islam branches, only 57 had sent delegates to the congress and none came from outside Java. Contact between the CSI and its locals 99

Rise of Indonesian Communism had largely broken down, and listlessness and discouragement seemed to characterize Indonesian politics as a whole. The chief figures rallying the anti-Semarang SI were Tjolcroaminoto and Hadji Agus Salim. The latter had been charged with preparing for the proposed reorganization of the Sarekat Islam, much to the Communists' displeasure, for they correctly viewed him as their most dangerous opponent. The two leaders toured the various non-Communist branches of the movement, reviving their interest and priming them to expel Semarang. Their arguments made three points: First, the SI could not hope to survive, much less regain its lost in8uence, unless it united behind a single leadership and became a real party·instead of a collection of warring factions. The PKI, Sarekat Hindia, and Budi Utomo had instituted party discipline for their own movements, making an exception for membership in the Sarekat Islam because it was the key to the masses. Why should the SI suffer these parasites, who drained its strength and preserved it in confusion? Secondly, religion should be the keystone of SI action, for Islam was the factor that united the Indonesian people and contained, in addition to spiritual values, all the major economic and social principles embraced by Marxism. Thirdly, the PKI was openly connected with the European Communist movement, particularly the Dutch; hence, the PKI was a tool of European colonialism. Europeans, no matter what they professed, could have no real interest in a socialist Asia. Had not the Comintern theses opposed Pan-lslamism and Pan-Asianism, and thus the unity of Islam and Asia? In the last analysis, they argued, the PKI was an instrument whereby the Dutch policy of divide and rule was extended to the Indonesian independence movement. On the other hand, the SI was genuinely Indonesian, genuinely Islamic, andwitness its recently adopted program-genuinely Communist. Why, therefore, adopt a foreign product when you could have a native one that possessed additional virtues? 88 The fragility of the congress agreement was revealed in June 1921, when the neutral Union of Native Public Works Employees (VIPBOW) called its fellow PPKB members together to discuss the possibility of restoring the shattered unity of the federation. The labor organization had greatly declined in membership from the peak of a claimed 150,000 in mid-1920; 81 this loss had occurred principally within Surjopranoto's PFB and other non-Communist unions. Semarang, on the other hand, was riding out the slump rather well; in fact, its major 100

The Bloc Within union, the VSTP, had more than doubled its membership and was now by far the largest unit in the federation. Of the unions represented at the conference, only two-the sugar and pawnshop workers' unionswere partisans of Jogjakarta; three were neutral but opposed to schism, and ten supported Semarang. 88 Understandably, Semaun thought himself in a strong position at the meeting, for it seemed that his opponents could not possibly control the conference; hence, the onus of any schism would fall on them. He therefore began by pointing out the all too obvious fact that the PPKB was effectively inoperative, for half its executive refused to cooperate with the other half. The only solution was to elect a new executive, and the conference, he asserted, provided the opportunity. The two Jogjakarta unions naturally opposed this suggestion, and it was eventually acknowledged that the meeting did not constitute a PPKB congress and thus could not elect officials. Not satisfied with this, however, the Jogjakarta unions, led by Muis and Salim, outlined their reasons for refusing to cooperate with Semarang. The Communists, they charged, made slanderous attacks on their colleagues, were tools of the Dutch, and were cowards when it came to really putting on a strike. Semarang's supporters replied in kind, and the session ended in a shambles. This quarrel apparently convinced the Semarang unions that their initial willingness to compromise had been foolish, for they reintroduced the matter of electing a new leadership on the second day and the whole debate began again. At this point, Semaun and Bergsma made a fatal slip: the Jogjakarta unions had argued that a new executive could be elected only if all members of the old one resigned, and so they declared the current leadership to be dissolved. Immediately the Jogjakarta representatives declared that if the Semarang members wished to resign, they themselves no longer need do so, for their sole objection to the PPKB had been the presence of Communists in it; the federation executive would therefore continue without Semarang members. With that they broke up the meeting. 88 This political sleight of hand was performed in an atmosphere of near chaos, with both sides making wild personal attacks on their opponents. The leftist leaders attempted to recoup some of their losses by holding a rump conference at which they announced the creation of a Revolutionary Federation of Labor Unions (Revolutionnaire Vakcentrale, RVC), to be centered in Semarang. A portion of the title originally urged by the ISDV for the labor federation was thus resurrected. 101

Rise of Indonesian Communism Times had changed, however, and the Communists could better appreciate the public servants' fears of being compromised; there was no mention of Bolshevism at the founding of the new federation, and it was stressed that the term "revolutionary" had been chosen to distinguish the new federation from the old and not to iJ:tdicate any desire to overthrow the government. The RVC's first move was to issue a manifesto, in the classical fashion of the united front from below, to bid for the allegiance of its opponents' membership. The PPKB replied in kind, and the next few months were taken up with the battle. The RVC controlled fourteen unions, all loyal to Semarang and composed mostly of blue-collar workers; of these, the VSTP was by far the largest and best organized. The PPKB controlled three unions whose directorates interlocked with the CSI: the PPKB, PFB, and Sarekat Postel (post, telephone, and telegraph workers). Of the neutral unions, VIPBOW was initially inclined toward the RVC but soon turned to the CSI-led federation, along with the teachers' associations. These unions remained on the periphery of the PPKB, however. Less politically oriented than the core group of Jogjakarta unions, they desired a single labor association that would balance off factional tendencies; thus they mediated between the two federations, although they were basically more conservative than either of them. 90 The collapse of the S1-PKI labor alliance presaged events in the political movement. The initial optimism of the Communists vanished soon after the March congress; for a time they continued to rail against party discipline, but their arguments lacked energy. Indeed, they seemed undecided what stand to take: some Semarang voices urged that there be no party discipline in Indonesian politics before independence, others that party discipline be imposed but not for the PKI; occasionally it was stated that the bloc within the SI seemed doomed and that the Communists should therefore seek alliance on another basis. 91 After the split in the labor movement, the Communists no longer gave special emphasis to the party discipline measure; apparently persuaded that the CSI leaders could not again be won to a compromise, they devoted themselves to attacking their opponents. The special congress that was to discuss the party discipline issue was set by the CSI for October.'2 Late in August, Tjokroaminoto was arrested and charged with perjury in the Section B investigations, and he was imprisoned to await trial. This ended any chance of a compro-

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The Bloc Within mise, since it meant Jogjakarta would control the meeting and would probably prevent any last-minute attempts by Tjolcroaminoto to preserve the movement's unity. The SI chairman's absence by no means strengthened Semarang, for his imprisonment made him a martyr and therefore politically unassailable. Just as Sneevliet's Indonesian opponents had rallied to praise him in his hour of exile, so the Communists ceased to attack Tjokroaminoto and instead expressed sympathy for his plight,93 The SI congress was held in Surabaja from October 6 to 10; the eff~t of Salim's spadework was immediately evident, for the meeting was entirely under his control.H The Semarang faction seems to have been unsure whether to attend, and Semaun did not at first take his place on the podium with the other members of the CSI executive. On the third day, the major agenda items were put before the delegates: the program adopted by the March meeting, and the proposal for party discipline. Salim interpreted the program and explained that the SI was revolutionary in the sense that it strove for the principles of liberty, equality, and fraternity and that it acknowledged the possibility of violence in achieving those aims. However, he continued, the movement did not seek these goals for one class but for all classes; therefore it did not base itself on the class struggle. It was national in character, but it was also international because it was based on religion; so far as nationalism represented the interests of a single class ( a probable reference to the Sarekat Hindia's "national capitalist" inclinations), the SI would oppose it. 95 Semarang did not object to this exegesis, but reserved 'its arguments until Salim and Muis moved to tie acceptance of the program to party discipline. At that point Tan Malaka, a rising young Communist leader, urged that an exception be made for the PKI, since Communism was the natural ally of Islam in the struggle against imperialism. Were not the Bolsheviks allies of the Muslims in the Caucasus, Persia, Afghanistan, and Bukhara; were not the British imperialists so afraid of this union that they demanded the Soviet government abstain from propaganda in those countries? If the SI was religiously international, then it should take a lesson from the Islamic community abroad and preserve its alliance with Communism. Semaun, taking another tack, argued that if the SI abandoned its left wing, it would lose the masses and return to what it had been in the beginning-a minor union of Muslim merchants. Religion alone was

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Rise of Indonesian Communism not a sufficient basis for the Indonesian popular movement, for it could serve a capitalist ideology as well as a socialist one. Moreover, not all Indonesians were Muslim; what of the Christian minority, whose support was so important in winning the native soldiery over to independence? The struggle must be for all oppressed Indonesian classes; to restrict it to one religion was to follow the government policy of divide and rule. Salim replied to these arguments that everything stated by Marx was already contained in the Koran, even the principle of dialectical materialism. It was true that the Muslims of the Middle East accepted aid from the Bolsheviks, but they were independent of them and did not allow them in their midst. The SI could not go on being a battlefield for other parties, unable to determine its own course; if it lost members by imposing party discipline, it would do so in order to build a wellknit, purposeful cadre that in the end would be far more effective than nebulous mass support. A vote was taken, party discipline was approved by a great majority, and so far as the CSI was concerned the bloc within was ended. · The collapse of the alliance represented more than the end of a period for the Indonesian Communist party. It marked a great and fatal schism in the Indonesian independence movement, which resulted in the retirement of the general populace from the political scene for the rest of the colonial period. Of the 196 branches claimed by the Sarelcat Islam at the time of the October congress, only 36 sent delegates to the meeting and only one came from outside Java. Clearly, the mass movement had fallen on evil times; but those on both sides who believed that discipline would give it momentum and direction were never more wrong.

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VI

Elective Affinities TIIE acceptance of party discipline by the October 1921 congress ended the bloc within the Central Sarekat Islam but not in the SI as a whole. This apparent contradiction arose because the association, which had originally been forbidden to organize on a centralized basis, had allowed only a coordinating function to the CSI. The central board could expel only its own associates; the right to determine who should or should not belong to the SI branches lay with the locals themselves. A proposal to transform the Sarekat Islam into a centrally controlled party was on the agenda of the October congress, but no action was taken on it at the time; as a result, the party discipline decision applied only to members of the CSI and to those who represented locals before the central body. When the measure was passed, Semaun and the representatives of the five branches that oppased it at the congress-Semarang, Salatiga, Sukabumi, Kaliwungu, and Surakarta--severed their connections with the CSI and left the meeting. 1 Their disaffiliation was only personal: it was agreed that they would present the question of party discipline to their respective locals for a vote, and if the branches disagreed with them, other leaders would be elected to represent their locals before the CSL This meant that the same battle would now be fought out in the Sarekat Islam branches, and only when it was completed would the symbiotic Communist-SI relationship be entirely end~. The separation of the two elements promised to be no easy task. In spite of the longstanding feud between Semarang and the CSI, factional divisions within the movement were not clearcut. By no means all Semarang adherents were PKI members; the Communist party had counted 269 members in 1920 and, in spite of the rescinding of Hartogh's restrictive policy, it contained fewer a year later. 2 Ultimate loyalties were not certain even among this core group: Alimin, for example, was generally considered a CSI supporter in spite of his long membership in the 105

Rise of Indonesian Communism PKI/ISDV. Personal rivalries and ambitions determined factional leanings to at least as great a degree as did ideology, and in spite of elements in both Jogjakarta and Semarang factions that urged reliance on a small, ideologically pure group, neither side was willing to impose undue pressure for commitment. Leadership was both too personal and too scarce: alienation of a local political figure might lose the support of an entire branch, and loss of a leader of national ranlc would be a serious blow to a faction's general prestige. Many lesser politicians, concerned either for the unity of the Indonesian movement or for their own position as SI officials, were not inclined to cooperate with the CSI demand for a decision. Moreover, many branches did not wish to weaken themselves and disturb personal friendships by ousting their pro-Semarang members. Consequently, a large number of SI units refused to declare themselves either for Semarang or for Jogjakarta: a flagrant case was that of the radical Bandung SI, which, to the helpless indignation of the Jogjalcarta leadership, took part in a CSI-sponsored regional conference that followed the break by sending as its representative the only member of its executive who did not belong to the Communist party.1 In short, separation of Semarang's following from the Sarekat Islam by no means followed automatically from the October congress decision. The process would, it was clear, involve intensive and delicate efforts on the part of both factional centers to commit their following. In this effort the activity of each side's most popular leader was indispensable. As it happened, neither was available, for Tjokroaminoto was in jail and Semaun left the country shortly after the congress. Furthermore, neither side was sure at this point how far it wished to can;y the split. In arguing for party discipline at the October meeting, the Jogjalcarta leaders had stressed that the end of the bloc within did not preclude cooperation with the Communists on other bases. Within the PKI itself the_ influence of the radical purists had declined; the Indonesians were becoming increasingly independent of their remaining European advisers, and two major opponents of compromiseBaars and Darsono-were no longer in the colony. There was some feeling in the party that the CSI desire for comprehensive party discipline was justified and that cooperation on the basis of a simple alliance would be more profitable to both sides. 4 Semaun did not share this view, but neither did he contest the congress decision. Instead, with a final plea to his erstwhile colleagues not to tread the path of

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Elective Affenities Islamic capitalism, be urged cooperation on specific projects via common membership in a "National Committee." According to Tan Malalca, he and Semaun pressed the CSI leaders at the meeting for a commitment to join in such a committee and managed to secure their "semiagreement." G Both the Semarang leaders and their rivals were acutely aware of the demoralizing effect all-out hostilities would have on the popular following of both factions. The CSI treasury was empty, its adherents apathetic; Semarang's base of support was more active, but it also was greatly discouraged. Malaka, who succeeded Semaun as PKI chairman, considered the split a disaster and did not hesitate to blame his party for helping to bring it about: As a newcomer to the movement, I tried to see a just cause for the break. I was, however, unable to find such a reason. I only saw that the polemics in Oetoesan Hindia and Sina, Hindia had no connection with principles but were instead concerned almost solely with personal matters, and were accompanied by slanderous remarks. Polemics which were based on insults and which did not provide accurate accounts were causing the common people to lose a good deal of their faith in the leaders of both the CSI and the PKI. I feared that this split would not be limited to the CSI and the [executive of the] PPKB but would continue to spread throughout the locals, those led both by the CSI and by the PKI. A schism of this sort, talcing place in a period of reaction, would be exceedingly dangerous for the people and would make much easier the work of the reactionaries. 8 Malaka's feeling that unity was required was generally shared throughout the Indonesian political world. Budi Utomo had been urging coordination of effort through a national committee since late 1920; the CSI leaders had devoted considerable effort in 1921 to breathing life into the Concentration of People's Liberation Movements, and the Sarekat Hindia pressed proposals that the opposition parties fuse into one mass organization. None of these efforts was successful, for personal and political differences prevented any lasting alliance, but cooperation on specific projects did increase during 1921. In August, a Committee for Strengthening the Spirit of the Movement ( Comite Meneguhkan Keberanian Pergeralcan) was formed by Budi Utomo, the CSI, and a number of labor unions in Jogjakarta to coordinate their efforts and support those in difficulty with the authorities. In November, the Communists surrendered their objections to multiparty cooperation and sponsored a meeting against government interference

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Rise of Indonesian Communism with SI-sponsored schools and against the continued existence of seignorial lands. The demonstration, in which Budi Utomo, the Sarekat Islam, and Sarekat Hindia participated and which was attended by an estimated 5,000 persons, was viewed by the authorities as the year's high point in antigovernment cooperation.7 This desire for unity was in part a defensive reaction to the changing policies of the colonial government. We have noted the mutual disillusionment between the government and Indonesian political movements during the latter part of the 1910s; both sides had expected too much of each other, and disappointment led to distrust. In addition, Dutch colonial policy was undergoing a reaction from the Ethical assumptions of the early years of the decade. The war and its accompanying fears for Dutch power in the Indies contributed to this; even more important were the great expansion of the Indies export economy and the increasingly conservative character of the postwar Netherlands governments. Ethical arguments for the social and economic development of the Indonesian population gave way to the rationalization that the highest good for both motherland and colony was served by promoting and protecting European enterprise. It was a concept that appealed vastly to the Indies Dutch, who had long been impatient of "sickly Ethicism; but it was not one that attracted the Indonesians, who saw it as proof of the radicals' argument that colonial rule could benefit only the Europeans. By 1920, Ethical proposals found support in the Netherlands parliament only from the Nonconfessional Democrats, Socialists, and Communists, an ineffective and incompatible minority. A stubborn battle for Ethical principles was led by the Leiden professors Van Vollenhoven, Snouck Hurgronje, and Carpentier Alting; but although these scholars enjoyed wide respect, their arguments were totally unacceptable to postwar Dutch opinion. Increasingly, "Leiden" came to mean not the scholarly conscience of colonial policy but wooly-minded interference in the hardheaded politics of imperial rule. 8 With the change in policy came a change in rulers. When Idenburg resigned as Minister of Colonies in November 1919, he was replaced by the archconservative Simon de Graaff. When Governor General van Limburg Stirum finished his tour of duty, he was replaced, in April 1921, by one of his most vociferous critics, Dirk Fock. The new Governor General was a laissez-faire Liberal, and one of the chief points on which he had attacked his predecessor was the rapid increase in gov-

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Elective Affinities ernment expenditures for Van. Limburg Stirum's program of welfare, education, and government services. He saw his principal task as Governor General as balancing the Indies budget; this was no mean undertaking, for the previous government had gone heavily into debtpartly because many of the new taxes it had imposed had not yet been sanctioned by the home government-and Fock had assumed office at the onset of an international recession, which severely hurt the colony's export economy. Fock was not a man to boggle at drastic remedies, however; he promptly introduced a series of draconian .financial measures, cutting public expenditures to the bone and increasing taxes considerably. In addition, the taxes proposed by his predecessor began to be implemented, so that in spite of the declining economy government receipts rose sharply. The great weight of this increase fell on the already overtaxed Indonesian population, for Fock proceeded on the conservative premise that to get an economy going again, the burden on industry should be eased. 9 Moreover, when he did attempt to raise money by an excess profits tax on the petroleum industry, he was turned down by the Minister of Colonies, to whom the oil interests made it clear that, although they could afford to pay, they did not choose to do so. 10 The Indonesians naturally looked on this with extreme misgivings, the more so since the government's arguments of dire necessity in cutting welfare items in its budget were vitiated by a simultaneous campaign to increase considerably the Indies military forces and fleet. Both within and without the Volksraad, Indonesian spokesmen protested the government's tax policy, but the result of their efforts was very close to zero. 11 Their failure impressed upon them the political helplessness of the Indonesians in the face of determined government opposition, and it contributed to the growing feeling that there could be no community of interests between themselves and the Dutch. The trend toward extreme economic and social conservatism was accompanied by decreased government tolerance for Indonesian political opposition. In part, this continued the process of disillusionment that had begun before Fock; however, in spite of the mutual suspicion that marked the last years of Van Limburg Stirum's rule, the Indonesians looked on that governor as an enlightened and sympathetic ruler. Not so Fock, however; his tenure has gone down in Indonesian nationalist histories as a time of black reaction, and it was seen thus by Indonesians of that day. The characterization is somewhat unfair, for, 109

Rise of Indonesian Communism especially when compared to the Indies regimes of the 1930s. Fock's rule was not completely intolerant. Like a number of other Dutch Liberals, he had once supported the Ethical program; although he now gave priority to Netherlands economic interests, he continued to think that he was following a basically Ethical course. As a lawyer and a Liberal, he was concerned for due process of law and for the rights of political expression; before he assumed office, he had indicated that he intended to expand the freedom of the Indies press. He was, however, a rigid and stubborn man-one who said what he meant, had no patience with vagueness or haggling, and' equated compromise with weakness. Although he had lived in the Indies earlier and Van Limburg Stirum had not, he was far less understanding of the Indonesians than his predecessor, who was by nature, philosophy, and diplomatic training able to see and respond to other points of view. Though Fock upheld libertarian political principles, his concern for their application in the Indies was severely limited by his belief that unrest in the colony was produced by troublemakers rather than by genuine popular grievances. In his view, unwise toleration of such elements had resulted in the disturbances of 1918-1919; now that the Indies was in a period of radical economic retrenchment, it was more necessary than ever that the government take a firm stand against any attempts to undermine its authority. It was a very short step, given the gap that separated the Indonesian movements from the colonial regime, to equate all criticism with subversive opposition, and Indonesian political groups accordingly found themselves subjected to much greater restrictions. At the same time, Fock did not wish to abandon his principles or to deny the right to criticize; he was therefore reluctant to reduce existing civil rights. This ambivalence accentuated the contradictory aspect of colonial political liberty that we noted earlier: in one case the mildest criticism might result in severe reprisal; and in another, overt declarations of revolutionary intent might be tolerated. This meant that the Indonesians were less certain of the permissible limits of opposition, and the possibility of an Indonesian orientation that was neither one of revolution nor one of noncooperative quietism accordingly decreased. The fate of the autonomy movement of 1921-1922 reflected this loss of a middle ground. Autonomy for the Indies was originally a goal of the Ethici, who saw it as part of the process whereby Indies inhabitants of all races would govern the archipelago as partners. Proposals drawn up by the Revision Commission, established to redesign the 110

Elective Affinities Indies constitution in accord with the concessions of November 1918, provided for a considerable increase in autonomy; but it was very soon apparent that these suggestions were oppased by the dominant conservatives, and especially by Colonial Minister de Graaf£. In an effort to rescue something of the commission's program, a Committee for Indies Autonomy was established in December 1921. It consisted of prominent Indies Dutch Ethici and Indonesian regents and Volksraad members. The committee aroused considerable interest among the Indonesian elite and attracted not only the main parties but also professional groups, regional associations, and the leagues of regents and princes. Such were the conservative European objections to associationist reform, however, that in spite of the committee's politically respectable leadership, the limitation of its goals to those set by the Revision Commission, and the fact that it neither sought nor received the backing of the PKI, it was widely accused in the Indies Dutch press of desiring Communist suppart and of being at least indirectly revolutionary. Shortly after its establishment, the movement was dealt a severe blow by the Governor General, who objected to the presence of three regents on a delegation the committee propased to send to Holland. In March 1922 it received the coup de grdce when Colonial Minister de Graaf£ announced that he considered revision of the Regeringsreglement wmecessary. The Leiden Ethici attempted to revive the campaign in the Netherlands by organizing an autonomy committee to in8uence the parliamentary elections that year. None of the candidates they recommended was elected, the new government was more conservative than the last, and De Graaf£, the prime target of their attack, was kept on as Minister of Colonies. 12 This effectively ended the political in.Buence of Leiden; it also marked the failure of moderate European-Indonesian association as a political instrument or goal. The autonomy movement continued, but under the less moderate aegis of the National Committtee, which had been founded about the same time as the autonomy committee by Douwes Dekker and the radical Ethici Fournier and Van Hinloopen Labberton. This committee, which was supparted chiefly by the ISDP, Sarekat Hindia, and Sarekat Islam, drew up a national unity program that aimed at a federation composed of the East Indies, the West Indies, and the Netherlands on the basis of equality and broad autonomy. The group was inclined toward noncooperation, a leaning that was strongly expressed at the All-Indies Congress it organized in June 111

Rise of Indonesian Communism 1922. Moreover, although it was associationist in composition, the committee's members were coming to doubt the benefits of EuropeanIndonesian partnership. As one of its leaders remarked, it was no longer realistic to seek self-rule together with the Europeans; that goal would have to be achieved by Indonesians and for their own people.11 To the Indonesians' sense of identity against the Europeans was added at this time a growing awareness of an Indonesian national self. In 1921 the word "Indonesia" began to replace the colonial "Indies" in political discussions; in intellectual circles people began to talk seriously about an Indonesian state, and Indies Malay-the future Bahasa Indonesia-began to be spoken instead of Dutch by Indonesian delegates to the Volksraad. 14 The existing parties did not lose their essentially regional or international orientation, but they were deeply affected by this sense of an Indonesian identity, which was to result a few years later in the first true nationalist groups. The impulse for a unified nationalist political effort was greatly strengthened by the noncooperation campaign then being carried on by the Indian National Congress under Gandhi's leadership. The relative effectiveness of the Congress and its ability to overcome regional and religious differences made a deep impression on the Indonesian political elite, whose own organizations lay scattered and stagnant. In all the major parties emulation of the Congress was urged, but the Indian example was particularly useful to the left wing. Semarang could point out that the Indians were united and strong while the Indonesians quarreled and were weak, and could charge that Gandhi braved imprisonment while Tjokroaminoto visibly cowered at the thought. The example of the Congress served both to belabor PKI opponents and to urge them to radical unity; understandably, then, Indonesian Communists did not see Gandhi's nationalism in the same light as the hybrid patriotism of the Sarekat Hindia. Instead, they held it to be the sort of truly revolutionary leadership the Comintern had in mind in advocating nationalist-Communist cooperation. The International itself was not so sure; its own organs were at first ambivalent and then sour in their view of the Indian leader, but the PKI continued for some time to praise Gandhi as an inspiring example for the Indonesian national movement. 15 The moral imperative of Indonesian unity was visible in the willingness of the October 1921 SI congress to consider forms of alliance other than the bloc within; it was even more apparent at a conference of the 112

Elective Affinities PP.KB that took place in the final days of the congress. Although the meeting was composed of non-Communist unions, it was not united on the question of party discipline and responded favorably to Semaun's plea to resume cooperation between the sundered branches of the labor movement. Salim, who led the conference, did not favor restoration of relations with Communist unions, but in the end be agreed to reunification, the details of which were left to a later date.II' He may well have felt, principles aside, that he could i]] afford to do otherwise. The VIPBOW was leading the non-CS! unions in urging either unification or establishment of a third labor center tied neither to Semarang nor to Jogjakarta. Pro-Semarang leaders in the PFB had recently ousted Surjopranoto, and the union was now moribund and hopelessly split. The PPPB was anticipating a strike and needed all the help it could get; moreover, its Bandung branch, which headed all the Priangan divisions, had elected Communist leaders, who were actively opposing the union's CSI central command.17 The ideal of unity thus combined with the exigencies of politics to prevent a real severing of relations between Jogjakarta and Semarang. In effect, the October congress decision left the PKI hall in and half out of the Sarekat Islam, and in this awkward position it remained another year and a half. The ambiguity of its condition was illustrated at the Communists' eighth congress, convened in Semarang at the end of the year. The theme of the meetings was unity; in calling the convention, the PKI executive declared that it hoped to discuss methods by which Indonesian movements could coordinate their efforts against government restrictions on their activities. To this end, it invited the participation of representatives from the CSI and Sarekat Hindia as well as from the PKI and the SI units loyal to Semarang. Two notable concessions to the non-Communists were made in the announcement: it stated that the party hoped for cooperation through a national committee or federation, thus abstaining from a campaign to revive the bloc within, and it specified that the Indonesian struggle should be aimed against "'modern organized capital," a secular phrase for the "sinful" foreign capital the SI opposed. 18 The meeting, which opened on December 25, was attended by some 1,500 persons, among them representatives of ten PKI branches, fourteen SI locals, and a delegation from the CSI.19 Portraits of Marx, Rosa Luxemburg, Karl Liebknecht, Lenin, and Trotsky covered the walls of the meeting room, reminding the delegates of the party's 113

Rise of Indonesian Communism international orientation; but hanging with them were not the pictures of Dutch leaders from the CPH and PK.I that generally looked down on Indies Communist gatherings but likenesses of Sentot, Diponegoro, and Kijai Modjo, heroes of earlier Indonesian struggles against Dutch rule. 20 The keynote address was given by Tan Malaka, who for six hours argued for unification of the Indonesian mass movement His discussion compared the achievements of the united Indian National Congress and the failures of the divided Indonesian parties. The Congress, he pointed out, was able t~ organize a noncooperation movement that the British could not suppress, but the Indonesian opposition, which took no such radical action, was paralyzed by the far weaker Dutch. Solidarity made the difference: the English did not dare arrest Gandhi because they knew the Indian people were united behind him. If the Indonesians would only close ranks in similar fashion, the Dutch would be unable to defeat them and they would reverse the diminution of their political liberties. 21 By either its persuasiveness or its length Tan Malalca's speech wore down the opposition, and he noted with satisfaction that both Communist and Islamic response was much more favorable than even he had expected.22 The conciliatory moves were interrupted, however, when Abdul Muis, who arrived at the meeting after Mala1ca bad spoken, reopened old wounds by denouncing the past behavior of the PKI within the Sarekat Islam. 23 His charges were immediately taken up by the more irascible Communists, and Malaka's effort seemed doomed, when aid came from an unexpected source. The PKI spokesman was rescued by a widely respected religious teacher and CSI leader, Kjai Hadji Tubagus Hadikusumo, who was attending the congress as the representative of the Muhammadijah. He spoke to the quarreling factionalists in favor of cooperation, using instead of the example of the Indian National Congress the still more powerful argument of the interests of Islam. The Indonesian people, he declared, were in the great majority members of the Community of Islam; this was true of Semarang's adherents as well as those of Jogjakarta. The chief goal of the Indonesian movement was to struggle against the oppression of unbelieving foreign rulers; this struggle could be carried on effectively only by a united people, and those who worked against unity were serving the enemy and acting against Islam. The proper attitude between Indonesian Communists and non-Communists, the Muhammadijah leader concluded, should be one of mu-

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Elective Affinities tual respect and tolerance in the interests of the greater struggle against the Dutch.24 This intercession, reflecting doubts felt even in deeply religious circles about the CSl's wisdom in choosing purity of principle over mass unity, had a tremendous impact on the congress. As the grateful Tan Malalca described it, Hadji Hacli1rusumo's message was like that of a healer [dukun] bringing succor to a person on the brink of death. Insults and disputes were buried completely. From the side of the CSI and PPKB as well as from the PKI, Semarang-oriented SI, and RVC the voices that sought to slander and destroy their own friends were stilled. This was a great victory for both parties and for the entire people.211 Muis and the anti-Communists suddenly saw their position reversed; they had previously based their arguments against Semarang principally on the incompatibility of Communism and Islam, but they now found the anti-Islamic label threatening to attach itself to them. They accordingly abandoned their opposition, and the meeting decided that both groups would cooperate closely on specific projects and would develop some sort of central organ through which their efforts could be coordinated. 26 In addition, a conference between the CSI, the Semarang-oriented SI, the PKI, and the two labor federations was to be held in April 1922 to agree on cooperation in labor and political affairs. On this cautiously optimistic note, the Communist meeting closed-but not before sending a telegram of greetings to the distant author of much of its success, the Indian National Congress.21 As it made progress toward an alliance, the congress also moved to end the bloc within by approving a Sarekat Islam Association ( Persatuan Sarekat Islam, PSI) to unite the SI units that had left the main body when the Communists were expelled. On October 25, a meeting had been held at PKI headquarters in Semarang to consider a response to the SI congress decision for schism; it was suggested that an effective way to organize the pro-Communist SI members and win away SI members would be to create "Red" SI units to compete under PKI direction with the regular Sarekat Islam branches. The decision to organize the PSI was made in early November, after lengthy debate. At the time, the Bandung leader Gunawan suggested that the proCommunist locals drop the confessional title and call themselves Sare115

Rise of Indonesian Communism kat RaJtjat (People's Union), but this was apparently felt too radical a step.28 In declaring its intention to form the PSI, Semarang emphasized that it hoped the new center would join the PKI, CSI, Sarekat Hindia, and other Indonesian organizations in a National Committee, which, though undefined, was clearly envisioned as an Indonesian counterpart to the Indian National Congress. Such emphasis on unity and cooperation did not hide the fact that the center was part of the competition with Jogjakarta for the allegiance of the SI rank and file; reflecting this aspect, the PKI invited all SI locals and not just the Communist ones to participate in the formation of the new league. The actual membership of the PSI was limited, however; it consisted of ten locals,29 from the general Semarang area. In fact, it formalized the hegemony the Communist-led Semarang regional SI organization had long exerted over locals in northern Central Java. 30 The PSI did not represent the total number of SI units of leftist sympathies, let alone all the individual Sarekat Islam members who looked to Semarang rather than Jogjakarta; that phase of the split was yet to come. Three more features of the PKI congress deserve attention. The meeting decided to press the Comintern to abandon its stand against Pan-Islamism, for the religious issue was a powerful weapon for Jogjakarta and had been used repeatedly to urge party discipline. The Communists, while maintaining that politics should be secularly based, had attempted to counter these arguments by supporting religion themselves. They referred, for example, to Koranic passages expressing sympathy for the poor and condemning oppression and greed; they argued that communism was taught by the Prophet and was therefore the basis of Islam, whereas capitalism was the system of the unbelieving West. 31 Efforts to demonstrate the compatibility of Islam and Communism were particularly marked in the last months of 1921, perhaps because Tan Malaka, who came from a strongly Muslim area, wanted particularly to avoid a religious quarrel and was sanguine about the revolutionary potential of Islam. Shortly after the October SI congress, Semarang organized a Hadj Committee to modify government regulations concerning the Mecca pilgrimage that were burdensome or conflicted with Islamic law. The committee secured an audience with the Governor General, and as a result some of the more troublesome had; rulings were changed. The Communists could thus claim that they were doing as much for Islam as Jogjakarta was. Malaka, as we know, did his best

all

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Elective Affenities to point out Soviet support of Islam; but the Lenin theses lay solidly in the way of his argument, and they were brought up again by CSI adherents at the PKI congress. Nothing would suffice, it seemed, but their withdrawal, and the party chairman's personal feelings on this score were only strengthened when the Muhammadijah invited him after the meeting to address its leaders on the subject of Commu82 • rusm. The PKI congress also discussed Volksraad participation, somewhat surprisingly in view of the party's previous experience and the reiteration by the government that under no circumstances would Communists be appointed to the assembly. Apparently some delegates drew hope from the fact that the PKI had recently elected four members to the Semarang town council with Sarekat Hindia support, and they speculated that if the government introduced some electoral reforms as a sop to those who urged constitutional revision, the Communists might be able to talce advantage of the urban-skewed voting qualifications, alliance with other radical groups, and their strength in the Semarang district to gain an elective seat. 83 In the end, however, the congress endorsed Bergsma's argument that the PKI should lead the other Indonesian groups in noncooperation, and the subject was permanently buried. After its public sessions, the PKI congress elected Tan Malalca party chairman.34 One of Indonesia's major revolutionary figures, he was born Sutan Ibrahim gelar Datuk Tan Malaka in Suliki, a small town in the Minangkabau area of Sumatra, during the last decade of the nineteenth century.36 He was not born into the downtrodden masses; he came of gentry stock, his father was head of his village, and he enjoyed European-style basic schooling. Malaka attended the teacher training school in Bukit Tinggi ( then Fort de Kock); according to his account, the Dutch assistant director of that institute persuaded the leading families of Suliki to establish a fund to send him to Holland to continue his studies,36 and he thus joined the then very small elite of Indonesian students in the Netherlands. He began work at the Haarlem teachers college in 1913 and later studied for a principal's diploma at the school of education in Bussum. He was far from a dull student, but his academic experience in the Netherlands was no unquali6ed success; moreover, the climate and careless living encouraged tuberculosis, which was several times to endanger his life. While he was in the Netherlands, World War I and the presence of a socialist in his boardinghouse caused Tan Malaka to be swayed by the 117

Rise of Indonesian Communism ideological winds that were then roaring over Europe. He read Nietzsche and developed an enthusiasm for Germany that inspired him to volunteer for the Kaiser's army, only to be informed that it did not possess a foreign legion. He read Carlyle and became a passionate admirer of the French Revolution--not so much, however, as to take advantage of that nation's facilities for foreign enthusiasts. When the Russian revolutions came, Tan Malaka began to take socialist propaganda more seriously, reading Marx, Kautsky, and the outpourings of the early Dutch Marxists. He became more and more attracted to a revolutionary viewpoint but was not sure that it was appropriate to Indonesia. In 1916 he had joined the Indische Vereniging, the association of Indonesian students in the Netherlands. 37 However, when he was asked by Suwardi Surjaningrat to talk about the Indonesian national movement at a congress of Dutch Indologists in 1918, he first declined on the grounds that he knew little about the movement and was not sure he wished to support it publicly.38 The turning point came, as it did for many Indonesians who studied in Holland, when he returned at the end of 1919 to second-class citizenship in the Indies. For a little over a year, Malaka taught contract coolies on a Sumatran rubber plantation--a disheartening experience, which, he related, filled him with hatred for the colonial Dutch and a burning desire to better the lot of the downtrodden Indonesians. In early 1921 he moved to Java, ready to devote himself to political action. Shortly after he arrived on the central island, Tan Malaka journeyed to Jogjakarta to visit Sutopo, a friend who was one of the leaders of Budi Utomo's progressive younger generation. His trip coincided with the March 1921 SI congress, and his host took him to the meeting to acquaint him with the Indonesian leaders gathered there. Malaka made an immediate impression on Semaun, who was delighted to come upon an educated and enthusiastic admirer of Marx. The PKI chairman suggested that the young revolutionary join him in Semarang and there help establish a school that the Semarang SI was to sponsor. Malaka accepted, and the Indonesian Communist movement gained one of its greatest revolutionary talents. 39 The new recruit came to Semarang in July and took up residence in Semaun's house, which was then a gathering place for Semarang's young revolutionary set. 40 As Malaka later recalled, the radical spirit in the city was then at an ebb, since the exciting days of the soldiers' 118

Elective Affinities and sailors' soviets had become only memories and increasingly strict police supervision was depressing both the membership and the spirits of the Indonesian organizations.u His own project, however, did not partake of the general malaise: the Semarang SI school was an immediate success, and soon branches were established in other Javanese cities. 42 The Dutch authorities were not pleased at this accomplishment, for they disliked the mushrooming Indonesian-sponsored "wild schools," especially those which purveyed the ideas of Semarang. Malaka soon became a well-known political figure, launching himself on a long career as ideologue of the Indonesian revolution with a work on parliamentary and soviet government, in which he concluded that the principles of the latter more closely fitted Indonesian traditions. 48 Semaun gave him a role in labor organization through bequeathing him the chainnanship of the newly organized miners' and oil workers' union, Serilcat Buruh Pelikan Indonesia,4 4 and soon thereafter Malaka inherited the entire party. Tan Malaka agreed thoroughly with Semaun on the need for. a unified revolutionary movement; he did not, however, approve of his predecessor's emphasis on caution and consolidation, and accordingly he ignored Semaun's admonition to continue in that vein. 411 As he saw it, a major cause for schism and apathy was PKI concentration in the past year on party organization and Marxist indoctrination instead of a broad campaign of protest against the government. What was needed, he thought, was not a detailed and specifically Communist program but a wholehearted effort to force the government to relinquish the "extraordinary rights" and other restrictions on civil liberties; such a campaign could unite all Indonesian movements, for none of them could flourish while the government held these powers. Above all, the PKI must do and not talk: Certainly we need to have a program in the Indies, but that program must be very brief. The program must not have chapters or paragraphs: it must contain only one word, and that is action. Action by the Indies proletariat for a clear and consistent goal, the withdrawal of the powers which so greatly impede and injure the popular movement. 46

Malaka's idea to base PKI action on the extraordinary rights issue may well have been inspired by the fact that the Dutch Communists had raised a parliamentary storm on this subject during his last year in the Netherlands and had been supported by SOAP and other members 119

Rise of Indonesian Communism of the legislature who were particularly concerned about civil rights.4 7 The Indonesian opposition was certainly agreed on the issue, for all parties except Budi Utomo had had leaders banished. Moreover, since 1919 the right of political association had been restricted," officials had been reminded sharply that political opposition was not compatible with government employ,48 and the number of arrests under the press and speech laws increased considerably.110 To attempt to reverse such a trend would doubtless have been popular with other parties in principle; whether in practice unity would have resulted is another matter. Although all opposition groups protested the limitation of their freedom, none had made civil rights a central issue. One reason may have been that the mass-oriented parties thought the subject had little interest for the general populace; another may have been that a campaign of direct protest against government policy involved risks the parties were only sporadically willing to undertake. How Tan Malaka would have gone about organizing the effort remains a mystery, however, for events immediately following the PKI convention led him in an entirely different direction. The ca.use of this diversion was a pawnshop workers' strike in January 1922. Members of the PPPB, as low-ranking state employees, were among the 6rst to feel the gathering depression in the form of layoffs and wage cuts under Fock's economy drive. By mid-1921 they nervously began to threaten a strike if any of their number should be dismissed, and they showed considerable impatience with their leaders' failure to obtain assurance of their security. Since the PPPB was the principal Jogjakarta union and was headed by Tjokroaminoto, Muis, and Salim, it made an excellent target for Semarang. The RVC made concerted and rather effective efforts to take advantage of the pawnshop workers' unrest, and the CSI leaders fought back with the argument that the Communists talked much but could not be counted on to baclc a strike. 51 Government assurances of job security allayed tensions temporarily; but the momentum of unrest was too strong, and by the end of the year the workers had found a new issue on which to walk out 112 The immediate cause of the pawnshop strike was a quarrel over requirements that employees carry articles from the pawnshop to the place of auction. For some years this had been a burning issue in the pawnshop service, a government-run institution that played an important role in providing scarce cash for paying taxes and debts. The

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Elective Affinities pawnshop officials, whose status was in a limbo between white and blue collar, aspired to be recognized as pri;a;i, members of the gentry class from which the bureaucracy was traditionally drawn and for whom manual labor was out of the question. The government, on the other hand, took the position that the "continued existence of medieval Javanese attitudes and sentiments regarding the inferiority of manual labor" was to be discouraged 63 and issued a series of directives to the effect that a pawnshop employee's refusal to carry objects would result in instant dismissal. Until 1921 most pawnshops had a man of all work; but this deus ex machina vanished with the economy drive, and the pawnshop officials turned to their union for help. The PPPB leaders were not eager to act, for the issue was not negotiable and a strike was likely to bring disaster. However, they could not afford to lose the allegiance of this last major CSI union, whose members were beginning to question whether they should continue to support leaders who did not defend what they regarded as a vital interest. In the end, the union heads gave in. Once the pawnshop workers' union was committed, the PPKB was also involved, for that union was the federation's principal component and the directorates of the two groups interlocked. Nor could the Communist federation refrain: to do so would have been contrary to the direct action policy endorsed by Tan Malaka and Bergsma, would probably have ended the chances of reuniting the labor movement, and would have shown that their earlier wooing of the pawnshop workers had been insincere. As Malaka put it, 'The time had come for the Communists to show that at their congress they had not been talking with their mouths alone, but also with their hearts." 114 The pawnshop strike was Indonesia's first really large-scale unionsponsored work stoppage. It was not actually started by the union; what the PPPB decided, in effect, was that if the workers struck, it would support them. Consequently, the conffict began locally-with the walkout of one employee in a small Central Javanese town-and spread in rapid but ragged fashion throughout the island.115 Within two weeks it affected 79 of 360 pawnshops, and in late January, at its height, it extended through the districts of Jogjakarta, Tjirebon, Pekalongan, Kedu, Semarang, Rembang, Kediri, Surabaja, and Pasuruanall areas in which the CSI and PKI were most active. 118 The immediate government response was to dismiss all who refused to return promptly to work, and the main activity of the labor federations in the strike was 121

Rise of Indonesian Communism to organize enough support to persuade the authorities to soften this stand. On January 18, the RVC issued a manifesto, signed by Malaka and Bergsma, in which it called on the Indonesian proletariat to support the pawnshop workers' effort for reinstatement and hinted at a general strike if the government stood by the dismissals. 57 On January 25, the PPPB held a mass meeting in Jogjakarta, where leaders from all the major Indonesian parties and labor unions spoke in support of the strike. Tan Malaka, who represented the RVC, presented a message of encouragement from the revolutionary federation; this was to be the immediate cause of his expulsion from the Indies. At the same time, unrest among the oil workers, the VSTP, and the dockworkers added emphasis to the RVC threat of a general strilce.M In these actions the Communists won considerable public attention, but they did not allay the suspicions of the CSI labor leaders. The extent of Jogjakarta's doubts about the PKI was illustrated toward the end of the strike, when the government forbade meetings in the Jogjakarta area: in spite of Communist urgings, Hadji Agus Salim, who then led the union, refused to transfer the center of the strike organization to Semarang, because he feared the Communists would talce over the movement once it was on their home grounds. 1111 Had the other Indonesian organizations seen the immediate cause of the pawnshop workers' walkout as the only reason behind the strike, the PPPB might have found it difficult to secure allies, for most Indonesian associations disapproved of the action itself. They viewed it, however, as a product of the general nervousness and insecurity of the time and related it to their own feeling of deep frustration and helplessness in political affairs. The government's unbending attitude seemed symptomatic of the rigid conservatism of the new regime, which fired one out of five pawnshop employees in Java 60 and complimented itself on having thus contributed to the economy drive.11 Consequently, the strikers got widespread support, even from moderate Budi Utomo. The government also saw the strilce as representing more than its immediate cause. In spite of the strilcers' insistence that their support was related to the dismissals, the authorities viewed it as a revolutionary demonstration against foreign rule. 12 Even the leaders of Budi Utomo, which not long before had been declared the "association which most closely approaches the most desirable form of political action for real progress of this country,.. .., were informed that "the l!J2

Elective Affinities action of their support for the strikers can be described as nothing less than revolutionary." 64 As a "revolutionary" organization, Budi Utomo was informed that until further notice it could hold meetings only with government permission; apparently the government feared criticism for this punishment of a widely respected party, however, for the Budi Utomo executive was initially instmcted to keep secret the restrictions placed upon it. Of the political organizations involved in the strike, the CSI suffered the heaviest damage. The pawnshop workers' union collapsed after the strike, putting Jogjakarta permanently out of the race for control of the Indonesian labor movement. 05 Abdul Muis was arrested midway through the strike and subsequently sent out of Java, thus depriving the non-Communist SI of one of its top leaders. The PKI won considerable popular sympathy through its strong support of the strike and effectively rebuHed the argument that it was inactive; moreover, the government's sharp retaliation convinced more people than ever that revolution was the only answer. Nonetheless, the Communists also suffered. Malaka and Bergsma were arrested in mid-February and shortly thereafter deported. 68 Their efforts had not increased the desire of the Jogjakarta to cooperate with Semarang, for the CSI chiefs were now more than ever convinced that the wisest course was to avoid trouble in general and the Communists in particular. With Bergsma's departure, Dutch participation in the PKI came to an effective end; Het Vriie Woord, long kept alive almost solely by his efforts, ceased publication in May 1922. For the labor organizations the defeat was a bitter one, as the strike effort had been their first attempt at a large-scale work stoppage; it had been backed by most of the Indonesian organizations and had been undertaken against the government, hitherto a much more pliable opponent than private enterprise-and it had failed completely. Moreover, the authorities had treated the action as revolutionary in spite of the union's disclaimer of political motives, thus raising grave doubts about the feasibility of strike efforts in the future. The immediate result of the defeat was paralysis. All branches of the Indonesian opposition were stilled, exhausted not only by their physical losses but also by the psychological shock of the experience. The gulf that separated them from the government had been harshly illuminated; it was now so great that no real communication across it was possible. Both sides had retreated from the early days of hopeful con-

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Rise of Indonesian Communism frontation, and they now withdrew still further-the government into reliance on force and the Indonesian groups into sullen noncooperation. For the PKI, the hazards of a policy of direct challenge were all too clear: the arrest of Malaka and Bergsma, the only two first-rank party leade~ in the colony, virtually beheaded the Communist movement: Clearly, Tan Malaka's action program could not be continued if it brought such results. It was in this period of general discouragement and indecision that the two major figures in the mass movement, Tjokroaminoto and Semaun, resumed the leadership of their battered organizations.

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VII

Semaun's Program AT the end of October 1921, the VSTP executive announced in the union's journal that its chairman had temporarily departed: On Leave. Beginning this month Comrade Semaun is going on leave for some time; the reason is that he must compose his mind, since he has been under a considerable strain from the work he has carried on in behalf of the people in general and the workers in particular. We cannot say where he will stay, since he is naturally not planning to let his place of retreat be known, lest his just-described purpose be frustrated by letters and such. We are bringing this to the attention of the VSTP members so that they will not be confused by reports in the white press and thus entertain suspicions that do not rest on the truth. 1 Semaun's secluded spot was Soviet Russia, from which he returned late in May, 1922. The rumors to which the announcement probably referred were the widely circulated stories that the PKI chairman had in fact gone to Russia and that he had done so because members of his partyparticularly the European ones-were concerned that he was straying from the orthodox internationalist path. 2 Semaun did not deny that he had doubts before his journey; indeed, he stressed this point at the meeting that welcomed him home. One stated cause of his disquiet was the famine in Russia, which had been much emphasized in the anti-Communist Indies press during 1921 and which the PKI had ceased to deny: "Reports of the confused condition of the administration under the leadership of the Bolsheviks in Russia caused me to go there in order to see for myself just what the situation was." 8 Furthermore, he maintained that he had been uncertain whether Communism was merely a servant of Russian interests, as its opponents claimed: We can give assurance that the reactionaries' accusation that we Indies Communists are only a tool of the Russians is simply a slander and untrue. 125

Rise of Indonesian Communism We thought this from the beginning, but the many reactionary reports inspired me to pass on the truth or falsity of these reports from within Russia itself. For if a person's convictions are attacked on many points, he may end by losing faith himself if he cannot come forth with strong proof that the truth is on his side. 4

In judging these statements, we should bear in mind that, while they may reflect an actual crisis of conscience for Semaun, they also conform to an Indonesian political gambit. Going on retreat, usually to a holy and rather inaccessible spot, is in the Javanese mystical tradition; one returns from the journey, having received spiritual guidance through meditation, with strength renewed and doubts resolved. In politics, a leader might undertake such a withdrawal before announcing a momentous decision, or he might use the custom to explain an absence necessitated by other reasons. Semaun was no stranger to this technique: returning from prison in 1919, he compared his experience to that of a hermit who, having separated himsell from worldly affairs, partook of the grace of God _and thereby gained new strength and conviction.Ii Thus his expressions of doubt may have been rhetorical, for the purpose of emphasizing restored faith on his return; in this case they would have significance not for Semaun's own state of mind but as questions he thought his Indonesian audience might have about the PKI and Soviet Russia. Quite aside from this possible personal crisis, a conflict over Semaun's policy within the PKI itself provides a likely basis for the reports that that leader was sent to Soviet Russia to improve his orthodoxy. Semaun, as we have noted, guided the party along cautious lines, emphasizing the need to consolidate its position within the Indonesian movement and to avoid a direct challenge to the government. This brought criticism within the party from those who felt that the proper strategy for a Communist movement was Bolshevik-style revolutionrebellion aimed directly at establishing a dictatorship of the proletariat through the creation of soviets, with its chief weapon the general strike. These advocates of a "Russian" policy, who seem to have been for the most part Europeans, were joined in increasing numbers by party followers who, like Tan Malaka, thought that the prevailing Indonesian sense of frustration and insecurity should be exploited in a massive protest action that would revive the momentum and cohesiveness of the popular movement. This pressure for a forward policy came to a peak over a railroad

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strike, which many VSTP members had been urging since 1920. Semaun had been the principal spokesman against such a move, but at the VSTP congress of December 1920 the pressure for a stronger stand was such that the union declared it would consider a strike against those private companies that did not accept the government pay scale and hours by October 1, 1921. In mid-1921 there was a renewed tendency toward wildcat striking by private-line employees; as a result, the VSTP expelled an important branch that had promoted such an effort, thus giving the PPKB excellent ammunition in its postschism combat with the Communist labor leaders. By late September the strike deadline was drawing near, and most companies had not met the demands. Semaun began to hedge, however, arguing that the depression had altered the situation considerably since the ultimatum had been set; the balance of power was now in the hands of the capitalists and not the workers, and even on the state line the wage scale, part of which consisted of a cost-of-living bonus, was endangered. Largely because of his urging the union again postponed action, on the grounds that a recession was not the proper time for wage demands. The VSTP chairman was right enough, but the decision aroused considerable unrest among the railroad workers, who tended to react to the depression in the same way as the members of the pawnshop union: that is, the increasing economic uncertainty made them restless and doubly resentful, and they wished to lash out at their foreign masters without considering practical consequences. 6 With the "Russian pattern" identified with a policy of direct challenge, Semaun's refusal to act must have appeared to the more radical members of the PKI as an unfortunate diversion from Communist orthodoxy,7 and they may well have thought that a journey to the heartland of the revolution would bring him back in line. In any event, there is considerable reason to believe that Semaun's journey was for another purpose than the official one of representing Indonesia at the First Congress of the Toilers of the Far East. In the first place, that meeting, held in Irkutsk in November 1921 and in Moscow in January and February 1922, was organized for the countries of the northern Far East; 8 Semaun, the only delegate from Southeast Asia, was clearly an afterthought. 8 True, Sneevliet was then urging from Shanghai that the Indonesian party should establish as many contacts as possible with other Asian revolutionary movements; according to Semaun, Sneevliet secured the inclusion of Indonesia in the congress by arguing that the

lZT

Rise of Indonesian Communism Indies would occupy a strategic position in a future Pacific war and that the Netherlands was a participant in the Washington Conference, which the congress was called to protest. 10 But why send Semaun, who knew none of the languages spoken at the congress, 11 and leave the PKI in the hands of Bergsma-whose role was limited by the fact that he was Dutch-and Tan MalaJca-who had belonged to the party only a few months? Darsono would have been a far more logical choice: he was already in Europe worlcing for the Comintem; he had represented Indonesia at the International's third congress in mid-1921, and he spoke German. It therefore seems likely that Semaun's pilgrimage was arranged, perhaps by the European members of the PKI in collaboration with Sneevliet, to convince hbn by a stay in Russia of the need to travel the Bolshevik path. Unfortunately, such expectations were disappointed, for Semaun's Soviet experience had precisely the opposite effect. Very little Comintern activity since the Intemational's second congress related to the East; what activity there was chiefty represented vain efforts by the advocates of radical proletarianism to incorporate their views into Comintern policy. The sole meeting devoted to Asia before 1922 was the First Congress of the Peoples of the East,12 which opened on Baku on September 1, 1920. Sneevliet represented the Dutch and Indonesian Communist movements there: he addressed the delegates in the name of the CPH, PKI, and Sarekat Islam. 13 Apparently, he did not expect much of the meeting, however, for he had already assured the second Comintern congress that "we shall next attend the congress in Baku. However, we are not under the illusion that this congress will have great significance for the Far East. This is impossible." 14 The meeting drew up resolutions calling for agrarian revolution, opposition to both foreign and native capitalism, and establishment of workers' and peasants' soviets that would unite against foreign and native oppression. Although Comintern representatives Zinoviev and Bela Kun acknowledged that Asian Communism could succeed only with the help of revolutionary democratic nationalism, the general tenor of the congress reftected an extreme antibourgeois spirit, which many Soviet and Asian Communists held in spite of the decisions of the second Comintem congress. 111 The Baku gathering was not a policymaking assembly, however, and its chief characteristic was confusion. It did establish a Council for Propaganda and Action of the Peoples of the East, which was apparently designed as a Comintem junior execu-

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tive in charge of Asia. Its Far Eastern division, in Irkutsk, was given charge of China, Korea, Mongolia, Manchuria, Siberia, and Japan. Indonesia was thus very far from its center of attention, and the only apparent advantage that the Indies Communists gained from the Baku meeting was that they were able to use one of its several florid demonstrations ( the proclamation of a djihad [Muslim holy war] against imperialism) as an argument against those who accused the Bolsheviks of hostility to Islamic unity.17 After the Baku meeting, overt Russian interest in the Eastern revolution seemed to decline. The Soviet government was bending all its efforts toward restoring relations with the European powers, and this both drew its attention away from Asia and made it generally less willing to support actions that would alienate West European governments. A general retreat in revolutionary agitation was declared, and emphasis was placed on improving organization and discipline instead. This was demonstrated very clearly at the third Comintem congress, which met in June and July 1921. At the meeting Darsono represented the Netherlands Indies. 18 He had, we will remember, joined Baars and Sneevliet in Singapore in May 1921 and sailed from there to Shanghai; then he and Baars continued by rail to Moscow. 19 The congress devoted itself to the problems raised by Russia's withdrawal from a program of immediate world revolution, by its desire for normal relations with Western Europe, and by Lenin's New Economic Policy, which was bringing about a compromise with capitalism in the Soviet economy. So far was the subject of Asian revolution from the attention of the Comintem that the congress was not originally scheduled to discuss it seriously. The Asian delegates were unhappy at this neglect and finally managed, with Lenin's backing, to get the Eastern question on the agenda. 20 The colonial commission thus created uncovered considerable disagreement with the Comintem line on the East. The dissidents were by no means united, however: their criticisms reflected two diametrically opposed points of view. One group, chiefly delegates from the Near East, wanted a policy that favored Pan-Islamism and a multiclass alliance similar to the bloc of four classes that was later to be employed in China.21 This was sharply opposed by India's M. N. Roy, who repeated his argument against bourgeois nationalism from the second Comintem congress and emphasized particularly the need to oppose the Pan-Islamic movement. 22 Chang Tai-lei, of China, produced a set 111

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Rise of Indonesian Communism of theses which argued that it was impossible for the Asian workers to fight on two fronts at the same time; therefore, Communists should cooperate with the national bourgeoisie until imperialism bad been defeated: 23 The task of the communists of the colonial and semi-colonial counbies of the East is as follows: without surrendering their independent program and organization, the communists must gain predominance in the national revolutionary movements; they must draw the participating masses away from the domination of the national bourgeoisie, and they must force the bourgeoisie to follow the movement for the time being under the slogans "away with the imperialists" and "long live national independence." However, when the moment arrives, this bourgeoisie must be cut off from the movement. 24 Chang's interpretation was favored by the Comintern at this time, but Zinoviev's explanation of Soviet support for Kemalist Turkey also made it apparent that the Comintern might be willing to go quite a bit further in practice than in theory, especially where Soviet policy was concerned. A preference for the nationalist bird in the hand over the Communist birds in the bush was implicit in his declaration: We know quite well that in Kemalist Turkey, for example, the Communists are murdered in just as foul a manner as in social-democratic bourgeois Germany. Of course the Communist International will fight most sharply against such methods of struggle and against the persecution of Communists in general. However, where a really revolutionary movement-perhaps seminationalist, but really revolutionary-is in progress, the Communist International will support this movement insofar as it is directed against all imperialism, and the world proletariat will march on in the vanguard. 211 In spite of their disagreement, the Comintern leaders gave no additional attention to the program for the East. The colonial commission appears to have been only a sop to the dissatisfied delegates; Roy vigorously protested that "the commission, which was not formally installed, thanks to the disorder prevailing at the congress, decided not to draw up a theoretical resolution on the Asian question." :ie The discussion of Asia on the Boor of the congress was limited to one session ( the twenty-third), in which the speeches of the Eastern delegates were held to five minutes each. 27 Replying to Roy's objections, the Comintem heads made clear how little importance they attached to Asian revolution at this time: We regret that the congress has no time to treat the Asian question with the necessary thoroughness; but this is not a great misfortune, since this ques-

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Semaun's Program tion has already been dealt with exhaustively at the second congress of the Communist International, from which the theses on the colonial question have been adopted. This question was likewise discussed at the Congress of the Peoples of the East, which took place in August of last year; and I am convinced that it will be thoroughly considered at other congresses and other meetings. For us, the most important thing on this occasion was to achieve a demonstration of the international solidarity of the Western proletariat and the oppressed peoples of the colonies. The demonstration has taken place; that is the main thing.2e In the end, the Asian Communists had to content themselves with Zinoviev's brief declaration on the colonial question, which reiterated in strong terms the theme that Communist cooperation with revolutionary nationalism would benefit both the Asian masses and the European proletariat: The Communist International has decided to advance the principles of the labor movement, the principles of a Communist movement, in all oppressed nations, in all colonial lands: this is the 6rst taslc of tlie Communist International. The Communist International, however, has decided at the same time to support every really revolutionary movement of the oppressed peoples of the colonial countries against imperialism, since the Communist International is convinced that only the victory of the proletarian revolution can really liberate the oppressed peoples. Our slogan is: Proletarians of all countries and oppressed nationaUties of all countries, you must unite for a common struggle against imperialism, for Communism. 29 Thus cooperation with nationalism rather than imitation of the Bolshevik proletarian revolution was confirmed as the Comintem colonial strategy. Moreover, the general discussions of the congress, asserting the "temporary stabilization" of world capitalism, endorsed the Soviet retreat from revolutionary confrontation internationally and in economic policies at home. In short, neither Comintem theory nor Soviet practice was likely to convince Semaun that his party should rely on doctrinaire proletarianism or adopt a forward stance in opposing the government. The PKI chairman had traveled to Russia via China, probably stopping on the way to see Sneevliet. 80 He then went to Irkutsk for the First Congress of the Toilers of the Far East, which opened on November 11, 1921. Although the meeting was intended primarily as a demonstration against the Washington Conference,31 it was clear even before it convened that it would review the Comintem Asian strat131

Rise of Indonesian Communism egy; 32 this was probably one reason why after its first session the convention moved to Moscow, where it reconvened on' January 21, 1922.33 The argument resembled the dispute within the PKI in that it involved a protest against current policy by a radical group that wanted a more "Bolshevilc" strategy in the East. This time the objections came not from discontented Asian radicals but from the Russian left, including the Comintern chairman himself. 34 The published congress records present a confused picture, in which the major Russian speakers expressed varying reluctance to cooperate with the bourgeois nationalist movements; according to an account written by the congress secretary, Shumiatskii, it took the personal intervention of Lenin and Stalin to impose the more tolerant orthodox view. 35 Semaun, whose linguistic difficulties probably made him as innocent as any participant of the nuances of the arguments, declared his complete agreement with the radical keynote address delivered by Zinoviev and presented a message of greeting that placed such exclusive emphasis on the proletarian nature of the Indonesian movement that one who did not know his policies in Indonesia would have considered him an adherent of the left.88 Whether because of this apparent agreement with the radical views of the congress leaders or because they were impressed to discover that the distant Indies had a well-established revolutionary labor movement, the directors of the meeting decided to ignore Semaun's linguistic handicap and make him a member both of the congress presidium and of a special commission to discuss·the trade union movement in the East. 87 Finally, as if the presence of the Indonesian representative had opened new horizons in Southeast Asia, the assembly addressed its concluding manifesto not only to the countries of the northern Far East but also to Indo-China, the Dutch East Indies, and the islands of the Pacific.88 If the Southeast Asian delegate impressed the leaders of the congress, Semaun does not appear to have been overwhelmed by the meeting. Aside from the linguistic barrier, it is possible that he felt the polemics of the congress leaders did not apply to Indonesia. The arguments of Zinoviev and his allies were directed largely against the •nationalist bourgeoisie," and as we have seen, the Indonesian Communists not only accepted a limited definition of nationalism, which excluded the Sarekat Islam, but held that their country's position was unique in that it lacked a native bourgeois class strong enough to play a real political role. In any event, when Semaun returned to the Indies, 132

Semaun's Program

he did not mention the congress at all. Instead, he referred to advice given him by various "leaders of the Communist party in Russia itself," foremost among them Lenin, to the effect that he should not mimic too closely the Russian pattern of revolution but should make adjustments to the situation in his country. 39 Semaun has since stated 40 that the major basis for this claim was a conference with Lenin in connection with the congress; this may have represented the "personal intervention" that Shumiatskii declares Lenin undertook to correct the left deviation of the meeting. Lenin did not take an official part in the congress; he was still ill and, according to Semaun, limited himself to receiving the heads of the Asian delegations, seven or eight persons in all. Semaun, who in spite of his activity possessed to a considerable degree the Javanese tendency to be shy, took a back seat at the meeting. However, when Lenin was informed that this was the representative from Java, he made quite a fuss over the delegate from farthest away. When Semaun offered polite apologies for the smallness of the Indonesian party and its ignorance of Marxist principles, Lenin replied that the important thing was to unify the people for the anti-imperialist struggle. The Bolshevik leader, according to Semaun, then discussed the revolutionary movement in Asia, pointing out that the tactics of the Russian Communists could not be duplicated by Asian parties facing quite difierent conditions; in addition, he noted that the revolution must adjust to world economic conditions and that at present even Russia was having to retreat via the New Economic Policy. 41 This view, which, we shall see, was expressed at the Comintem congress later in 1922, was just what Semaun had hoped to hear, and perhaps enthusiasm caused him to embroider it. At any rate, he maintains that when he returned to the Indies he presented his analysis not with the idea that it deviated in any way from the Comintem program but in the belief that this was the essence of what the Soviet leader had stated. On June 4, 1922, some ten days after his return to Indonesia, Semaun addressed a homecoming rally in Semarang. To the 3,000 persons assembled there, he explained what his Soviet experience had taught him about the Bolshevik pattern: At present, we in the Indies are faced with the problem whether the tactics employed by the Russians in their country must also be followed by us in

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Rise of Indonesian Communism our land, in view of the differing strengths of the parties and the different situations prevailing in Russia and in the Indies. In my opinion, there are many di.fferences in the aspirations of the Russian people and of the people here; moreover, in Russia a greater number of industries provide the necessities of life than here. In view of these factors, 1 believe that we in the Indies must shape our political tactics in a di.fferent manner than has been done in Russia, a mannner that corresponds to the situation in our own country. We are not contradicting the Communist Party in Russia, for all its actions and decisions are correct and in agreement with the situation there; but we are not so foolish as merely to imitate the Communists there, since the di.fferent situation in our country, the relative youth of the movement in the Indies, as well as the differing desires of the people in Russia and the Indies make it impossible for us to follow exactly the example of our comrades in Russia. Moreover, many Communist Party leaders in Russia have themselves reminded foreign visitors that the movement in each country must be carried on in agreement with the situation in that particular country.41 The activity of the Communist parties would follow the same general lines, Semaun continued, but this was because all countries were affected by world economic conditions rather than because of Comintem discipline: The type of action in each country should accord with the times. International activity will take place at approximately the same time, since economic conditions in the various countries are so closely connected that economic action is the same everywhere. li the price of necessities in America and elsewhere rises, the cost of living in the Indies also inaeases, since many of our essentials come from abroad; in th:S manner action will develop in the Indies along the same lines as in other countries, without a command from Moscow. 43 The speech caused an immediate furor. To the non-Communist press Semaun seemed to be rejecting Comintern authority; reports reaching the exiled Tan Malaka in the Netherlands caused him to declare that he hoped his colleague had not said what the papers were claiming he had. 44 The newspapers could hardly be blamed for drawing this conclusion, for the speech produced a hot debate within the PKI itself. Semaun was accused of faintheartedness and of rightist inclinations, and it was doubted that he had accurately reported the Comintern advice. The argument had begun even before the June 4 meeting; only a few days after he arrived, the PKI journal had found it necessary to deny

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that there was a split in the party, although it admitted that Semaun clearly stood to the right and others to the left in its ranks. 45 There was certainly reason to believe that Semaun could hold unorthodox views. He maintained that the overproduction crisis could be solved by increasing the purchasing power of the world's population through a moratorium on international debts and diversion of armament funds to an international scheme for planned economic development.48 He declared that wage protests were justified during the current Indies depression because penny-pinching government policies reduced public purchasing power and so made the situation worse; on the other hand, he asserted, resistance should not be carried to the point where both parties to the dispute were so injured by the conflict that the standard of living would be reduced even more. This limit could be ascertained only through organized, disciplined pressure asserted by Indonesian labor and political organizations.41 Such an analysis sounded more like Revisionist than Orthodox Marxism, for it did not appear to point inevitably to revolution. Indeed, Semaun declared in his June 4 speech that "we do not know whether we will achieve the Indies' independence through the will of the Dutch or through our own strength," 48 a quite extraordinary comment in view of Indonesian opposition feelings at the time. This point was not the real cause of the quarrel over Semaun's orthodoxy, however. He clearly did not think his philosophy incompatible with Communism; neither did he criticize Soviet Russia in any way or maintain that the PKI should claim more independence from Moscow than the International wished to give. He may well have interpreted Soviet opinion on Comintern-PKI relations very broadly, though Tan Malaka, visiting Russia later that year, also received the impression of great flexibility in the Soviet attitude: A truly professional revolutionary from any country must, like an expert in any science, maintain an open mind regarding the problem of revolution in other countries. In general, the view of the most prominent leaders in Russia while I was there ( 1922) was of this nature. They did not dictate their own views regarding the content of the revolutionary movement ( Indonesia, India, or China), and they left ideas on the action to be undertaken in foreign countries up to the Asian leaders. They also understood that there is an "X," an intangible factor, in each individual area. , .. In connection with this, the discussions and debates in the congress and in the Comintem

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Rise of Indonesian Communism executive were of the broadest possible character. We did not have to fear that any of the "top brass" would be "insulted.. if he received any criticism."

Furthermore, unquestioning obedience to orders from Moscow was hardly a basic tenet of the PKI leadership of the time. We will remember that it had been speci6cally rejected by the principal European party members ( who could be expected to be the most oriented toward orthodoxy and international discipline), and the PKI Indonesian leadership in general was neither well versed in Marxist-Leninist doctrine nor inclined to accept outside opinion as law. 50 The reason Semaun was criticized for deviation was rather that those who advocated an actionist policy based on the proletariat refused to believe that the Russians would not have urged the PKI to imitate the Bolshevilc experience. AF, we have seen, however, they, and not Semaun, were wrong on this point. The returning chairman was orthodox in saying that revolutionary action centered about a general strike was impractical under the prevailing economic and political conditions. The revolutionary tide was at a temporary ebb, he explained, and the party should therefore concentrate on organization and propaganda and should not attempt a major sbike or other action aimed at matching forces with the ruling powers. When economic conditions had improved and the workers' organizations were in better shape, more aggressive activities might be considered; but until then the advocates of a "'Russian" revolutionary policy were unrealistic. In conclusion, he called on the party to adopt a new and more cautious program and thus to abandon the direct action concept that had prevailed in his absence.111 Reportedly, some of the more radical members of his June 4 audience left the meeting in protest at these remarks, 52 and Semaun was forced to defend himself: As has been declared by Comrade Sukendar, we may under no circumstances weaken the action: I have only said that if our activity does diminish it will be in connection with economic and other conditions in the Indies. Our action cannot ·be made more or less intense by any one person, but depends on the conditions in which the people exist. • • • Whether I have been a great troublemaker, as I was called two years ago during the printers' striJce in Semarang, or whether I have been a coward, as I was considered last year during the PFB strike, or whether I am a person of weak character, as I am now held to be, I leave to those who hold such opinions. However, before still others adopt these attitudes, let me state that I have been consistent in my views, but that activity must be adjusted to the circum136

Semaun' s Program stances. . . . I only hope now that we will not be rendered panic-stricken by the reactionaries, for if we wish to proceed according to plan we must not be so foolish as to engage in desperate adventures. 118 Semaun did not hesitate to point out that his analysis of the situation was essentially the same one he had urged before his Russian visit; nothing he had heard in the Soviet Union had altered that analysis, and certainly nothing he found on his return to the Indies indicated that he had been wrong in urging caution. As he later described it, he came back to a scene of desolation: In 1921 I was delegated to go to Moscow, spolce with our great leader Lenin, was shown all about our first workers' republic, returned-to find new destruction wreaked by the reactionaries. Comrades Malalca and Bergsma expelled, many comrades in prison, the workers' &ghting spirit slackened by the hard-won improvement in conditions, the labor organization in a decline, our positions in the national movement and especially in the SI as good as lost because of the abandoning of that organization by the massesa result in part of the sabotage committed by national-capitalist leaders-while at the moment the PKI was too shattered to offer those masses a place for their aspirations. 114

Though personal interest may well have lent color to Semaun's brush, it could not be denied that the Indonesian revolutionary movement had fallen on dark says since the pawnshop workers' strike.1111 This was particularly true of its labor organizations: VSTP membership had declined from a peak of 16,975 members in October 1921, when Semaun departed the Indies, to 7,731 at the time of his return. 118 Consequently, his opponents were in a poor position to revolt when Semaun announced the Communist program was consolidation and retrenchment and that the railroad workers should not consider a strike even if their wages were reduced. Cries of rage soon gave way to sighs of resignation,117 and the PK.I returned from a crusading policy to the improvement of its position within the general Indonesian movement. Semaun's first concern was to restore the Communists' labor strength, and in particular that of the VSTP. What with policy disagreements, the arrest or absence of its top leaders, and the general decline in spirit, in 1921 the railroad union had not even been able to hold its annual congress; 118 it was therefore no small task to revive the organization and persuade its members to accept an unpalatable program of caution. However, Semaun and other top VSTP leaders

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Rise of Indonesian Communism toured Java, addressing locals and urging unity, discipline, and caution, and within a few months the VSTP was well in hand.~ 9 The recovery of the VSTP was matched by a general rise in union activity and an increase in Communist influence throughout the labor movement. This success stemmed partly from the PKfs energetic propaganda efforts and partly from the disintegration of Sarekat Islam influence in the labor field following the pawnshop workers' strike. Abdul Muis, who had led the PPPB into that conflict, was arrested midway through the strike; he was later sent to his native West Sumatra and retired temporarily from Indonesia-wide politics and permanently from the labor movement. Hadji Agus Salim also abandoned union activity; the Sarekat Postel, which he had headed, soon fell into Communist hands. 60 Tjokroaminoto took over the pawnshop workers' union when he left prison, but his leadership was constantly challenged, and after a turbulent year pro-Semarang elements gained control. The sugar workers' union also fell into Communist hands,61 and with this the organizations that had formed the basis of the CSI labor effort came under PKI direction. In addition, the Communists moved to expand their new-found influence among public servants by establishing an Indonesian policemen's union, and they attempted to revive the flagging interest of the privately employed urban proletariat by establishing a new union for automobile mechanics, metal workers, and drivers. 62 It was generally conceded, however, that the major reason for the marked PKI success in reviving trade union activity was the onset of the depression. I have already remarked that Indonesian workers of that day tended to be interested in unions only during a crisis. Before 1921 workers in private enterprises had felt the pinch most sharply and had been the most active source of unrest; now it was the state employees, who had enjoyed a cost-of-living bonus during the earlier inflation, who were first and hardest hit. 63 In consequence, Indonesian labor militancy shifted from the privately to the publicly employed workers; and though the PPPB strike disaster led to temporary paralysis of their unions, most recovered rapidly in the second half of 1922. Moreover, the anticapitalist and antigovernment feelings engendered by the depression, by budget-cutting, and by the treatment of the PPPB strikers made the civil employees more radical, and they lost many of their reservations about cooperating with the Communists. We will remember that the PKI and CSI had agreed in principle in 138

Semaun's Program

October 1921 to establish a single labor federation. The first moves toward realizing this goal were not made by either party, however, but

by the neutral public works employees' union, VIPBOW, which sponsored the founding of a Persatuan Vakbond Hindia ( PVH, Indies Labor Federation) in Madiun on December 3, 1921. The new association was to provide a middle way between the warring political factions of the existing federations, and specifically to oppose the govemment's planned removal of the cost-of-living bonus granted to state employees.64 The PVH was not supported by the politically oriented unions, and it seems to have vanished with the pawnshop strike. However, Semaun allied with its sponsors on his return from Russia, and in June 1922 the VIPBOW called a meeting of public employees' unions to discuss the reunification of the labor movement. 6 G The PPKB opposed the conference, for it had little desire to associate with the now far more powerful Communist-led unions; but the conference decided that if the CSI federation would not modify its stand, the VIPBOW would seek to establish an independent league of government employees' unions. 66 Since the new center would have absorbed nearly all the effective non-Communist unions and would in all likelihood have allied with Semarang, Tjokroaminoto conceded the issue and bestowed on the effort his not unqualified blessings. 67 The united labor federation was established at a convention of unions called by the VIPBOW on September 3, 1922. Named the Persatuan Vakbond Hindia, it was, like its shortlived predecessor, assigned to organize opposition to wage and employment cuts.68 It was by no means as large as the PPKB had been in its heyday, and it was composed almost entirely of government workers. 69 Suroso of the VIPBOW became its chairman, and the executive was dominated by nonCommunists.70 The founders stipulated that the PVH would avoid political questions, 71 but the Indonesian unions were no more able to untangle politics from economics in labor activity than was the government; one of the first decisions of the PVH was to appoint a committee of representatives in the Netherlands to further its anti-budget-cutting efforts. These spokesmen were to be Tan Malaka, Bergsma, and either Sutomo or Gunawan, both nationalist students then in Holland. 72 At its first congress, in December 1922, the new federation drew up a program of what were, in the Indonesian context, unrevolutionary but also unrealizable aims. The program betrayed a strong desire for state participation in the economic process, a feature that probably indi139

Rise of Indonesian Communism cated less the Communist leanings among its members than the overwhelming proportion of Javanese government employees; for them, private enterprise was neither well understood, highly valued, nor better paid. As if to forestall criticism, however, the PVH stipulated that it was not against capitalism but only against its abuses, which it hoped to influence the government to correct. 73 In spite of the modest overt role of the Communists in the PVH, they exercised considerable power because Semarang controlled the federation's largest and most active union (the VSTP} and was far better provided with leadership and money than its partners. This preponderance of resources was evident at the first PVH congress, which was moved at the last minute because the federation could not finance the gathering at its Madiun headquarters and had to accept Semarang's invitation to pay all expenses if the meeting were held there. 74 Semaun and his allies do not seem to have pressed their views on the other members of the federation, however; apparently they preferred the PVH as a symbol of the cooperation possible between Communists and non-Communists if only the non-Communist leaders were willing. The non-Communist politicians were not willing, however. Small wonder, for even with the PKI partly dismissed from their ranks Semarang's in8uence grew among the Sarekat Islam branches, making it clear to the SI leaders that if they wished to control their organization at all, they must not embrace the PKI again. Moreover, in spite of their best intentions the Communists could not refrain from occasional stabs at the CSI members, particularly on the sensitive subject of the movement's finances; this did little to improve the temper of the SI chiefs, whose personal dislike of their Semarang rivals had reached a point at which any real cooperation would have been unlikely even if both sides had greatly desired it. 711 The increased strength of the left after the SI congress was most notable in the regions of Semarang, West and Central Priangan, and North Kediri. 78 In the larger centers, the PKI was often able to spread its influence through the SI schools, which, as one of the few concrete activities of the Sarekat Islam, played an important role in the movement and in the towns where they were established. The schools, which were largely though not entirely in8uenced by Semarang, expanded rapidly, for the officially approved educational system was sadly inadequate to popular demand for schooling, and Indonesian-run

140

Semaun's Program "wild schools" were springing up to fill the gap. 77 The effect of such schools on the battle for hegemony in the Sarekat Islam was graphically illustrated in Madiun, where the establishment of an SI school in the latter half of 1922 soon led to predominance of pro-Semarang views in that branch of the SJ.78 This increase in Communist strength made the extension of party discipline both more necessary and more difficult for the SI leadership. As one CSI member later recounted, the movement spent the period following the October 1921 decision in a state of severe crisis, for thousands of lesser SI activists looked to Semaun as their principal chief; the result was a running debate in the branches on the wisdom of the party discipline decision. 79 In the end two of the most badly divided locals, Madiun and Sukabumi, proposed that at the next SI congress the party discipline resolution be rescinded. 80 This was what Semarang wanted, for when Semaun returned from Soviet Russia he ended the formation of the PSI, declaring that the task of the Communists was to ally with the national revolutionary movement and not compete with it. 81 His Soviet experience and the situation he found on his return had apparently convinced him that the proper course was to renew the PKI effort to gain hegemony within the Sarekat Islam; and so, after Semaun resumed command of the party, the Communists engaged in a vigorous campaign to restore the bloc within. They pointed out that the party discipline measure had only resulted in greater disunity and confusion in the SI, that most major SI locals had not carried it out, and that more mudslinging between the rival leaders would seriously diminish the movement's popular support-all of which was painfully true.s2 In Semaun's effort much depended on the attitude of Tjokroaminoto, who, we will remember, had been in preventive detention when the party discipline decision was taken. He had been released in May 1922, but because he had been convicted of perjury and was free pending appeal to the Indies supreme court, he did not immediately resume public life. In August he was acquitted, but he still remained carefully noncommittal on the subject of party discipline, giving Semarang cause to hope he might support a reconciliation. 83 Gradually, however, it seemed that Tjokroamiooto was repeating the performance he gave after the March 1921 SI congress: having disarmed the opposition by raising hopes of a rapprochment, he was working to strengthen his influence among the SI locals and tum them against his rivals. 84 He began publi141

Rise of Indonesian Communism cation of Islam clan Socialisme ( Islam and Socialism), a work on an Islamic socialist philosophy intended as an ideological substitute for Communism in his movement. 86 In November 1922 he chaired, and Hadji Agus Salim commanded, the first Al-Islam congress; inspired by India's All-Muslim League, it was intended to promote the interests of Indonesian Islam and also to further political orientation in a religious direction. The PKI could hardly have been enthused about the gathering, since it was strongly Pan-Islamic and implicitly anti-Communist; however, the party was anxious not to open itself to attack on religious grounds, and not only refrained from criticizing the congress but sent a representative to it. 88 In the last months of 1922, Tjokroaminoto began an intensive campaign to centralize the SI by calling for the creation of cadres ( warga rumeksa) within every SI local to guard the unity of the branch; these cadres would also be members of a Partai Sarekat Islam ( Sarelcat Islam Party), into which it was hoped the CSI and its branches would eventually be totally absorbed. The aim of the new party, Tjokroaminoto declared, would be to support the people of the Indies in a struggle for independence based on Koranic principles.87 This he proposed to submit to the next SI congress as his solution to the party discipline question; and the CSI announced that since it seemed certain Tjokroaminoto's proposal would be accepted, an official organ for the party was being established under his editorship.88 A few days later the first issue appeared; in it Tjokroaminoto declared that if his concept were not accepted, he would resign as chairman of the Sl.811 The Communists continued to urge the bloc within, but Tjokroaminoto's activities naturally gave them pause.90 Accordingly, they cast about for an alternate form of alliance in order, as Semaun put it, "to avoid breaking connections with the national movement through a possible expulsion from the SI." 111 This was not difficult, for the events of 1922 had created an atmosphere favorable to coalition efforts. The Indian National Congress had provided the example and the autonomy movement an issue for attempts at unification, the most notable of which, in June 1922, was the All-Indies congress. 112 It was not until November, however, that more than ephemeral coordination was achieved, via the establishment of the Radical Concentration, which was intended as a grand alliance of all the major Indonesian movements.113 As its name suggests, the Radical Concentration was a descendant of the Radical Concentration of 1918 and the Political Concentration 142

Semaun's Program

( League of People's Liberation Movements) of 1920. There were two significant differences, however: assessing the increased disillusionment with the government and the example set by the Indian National Congress, the new alliance decided its chief field of action was not in the Volksraad but in mass extraparliamentary pressure on the authorities; and it extended farther to both the right and the left of the Indonesian political spectrum than had its forerunners. On the right, it had the active participation of Budi Utomo 94 and the regional movements Pasundan, Sarekat Ambon, and Sarekat Minahassa; on the left it included for the first time the PKl.911 The Communists attended the ISDP-led meeting that founded it, and Semaun stressed to his followers that "the PKI is very, VERY much in agreement with the Concentration, for the PKI desires with all its heart to further the welfare and progress of the people of the Indies.... Unity of action toward a common goal: this must now be emblazoned on the banner we all hold high, the banner of the common needs of the people of the Indies." 116 At the PVH congress in December, Semaun urged the federation similarly to commit itself to the new political alliance.117 The new united front was imposing in its outward dimensions, and so general was the sentiment against the Indies government's recent policies that its members were able to agree on a broad program of demands. 98 Had it achieved real cohesion, the Radical Concentration might have inaugurated a new period for the Indonesian national movement; but solidarity was unfortunately not the coalition's most notable quality. It is significant that the alliance was inspired by the Dutch-led ISDP; the Indonesian leaders themselves, no matter bow clearly they saw the need for a common front in principle, continued to be more conscious in practice of their differences. Nor was the Radical Concentration given time to establish a tradition of cooperation, for very soon after its founding a clash between two of its adherents shook the entire Indonesian movement and created enmities that would have disrupted the sturdiest alliance. This conflict was, not surprisingly, a quarrel between the Sarekat Islam and the PKI. The congress at which the CSI was to reopen the party discipline issue had finally been set for February 1923, and both sides quietly prepared their forces for a battle royal. In public, if we can judge from the arguments presented in the Communist and CSI press at this time, the two opponents restricted themselves to fairly oblique sparring. This mildness was perhaps due on the Communist 143

Rise of Indonesian Communism side to vestigial hopes for reconciliation, 911 and on the SI side to Tjokroaminoto's disinclination to give his opponents cause to attack him directly; in addition, neither side wished to be accused of taking an unconstructive, disunifying position. There was no direct struggle over the issues, but instead the two rivals used disagreement on the site of the congress ( each naturally wanted to hold it in its own stronghold) in order to bring each other's good faith into doubt 100 By the time the congress met, from February 17 to 20 in Madiun, it was clear that Tjokroaminoto was not to be persuaded from his course. According to the Budi Utomo leader Sutopo, Tjokroaminoto told him shortly before the meeting that he had concluded Islam was the only element that could unite the Indonesian people and that he intended to make this the basis of the Sarelcat Islam's activities. As for the Communists in the SI, they had done their best to spread distrust of the CSI leadership, and the movement was better rid of them. Their fate, he said, would be sealed at the congress. 101 The meeting itself was heavily attended, and 1,200 to 1,500 onlookers 61led the schoolhouse where it was held and overflowed into an adjoining thatched shed. There were 117 delegates representing about forty branches-more divisions than had been represented at the October 1921 congress, but no improvement considering the spadework that had preceded it and the fact that, unlike its predecessor, it was not the movement's second convention in less than a year. Those who did attend were solidly on Tjokroaminoto's side, however. Semarang's viewpoint was supported by only three pro-Red branches (Madiun, Tjepu, and Ngandjuk), all of them from East Java and all with divided loyalties; Semaun himself did not attend. 102 Indeed, the PKI had announced several days before the gathering that it would hold a special congress immediately thereafter, including an agenda that clearly reflected expectation of a complete break. 103 At the SI convention, Salim and Tjokroaminoto acted as a team, making sure that the initiative remained constantly in their hands. Opening the meeting, Tjokroaminoto announced that it had been decided to discuss establishment of the PSI openly rather than in closed session, as had been scheduled. Salim then spoke, stressing the Islamic nature of SI socialism. After this Tjokroaminoto announced that he had visited 6fty-two SI locals before the congress and that forty-6ve of them had declared themselves in favor of the PSI; be asked the delegates therefore to affirm the branches' approval. At this point the Com144

Semattn's Program

monists tried to argue that a decision on the PSI should properly follow a discussion of party discipline. Tjokroaminoto instead declared the proposal for establishing the P$I accepted, and only then opened the meeting to discussion of party discipline, instructing the Communists to state the principles of their organization and its attitude toward religion. Sukendar, the chief PKI representative, responded with a statement that was well argued but highly theoretical, concerned with labor relations in industrialized societies, and partly in Dutch, and hence beyond the reach of most of the audience. The Red delegates stressed that there was no essential difference between their principles and those espoused by the CSI; although they asserted that Communists need not be unbelievers, they had to admit that on the subject of religion their movement was "neutral" ( that is, secular). This was bad enough from the religious representatives' point of view, but Sukirno, an undiplomatic Red delegate from Madiun, made it worse by criticizing the money-grubbing and hypocrisy of the pious. This threw the meeting into an uproar, and the unfortunate speaker was forced to flee the podium in order to escape a beating. The party discipline measure was passed by an overwhelming majority; the delegates reportedly maintained the same position in voting that they had held on arriving at the congress. 104 All this took place on the first day; by the end of it the Communists were permanently out of the SI, which went on to work out a formula for a Partai Sarekat Islam in accordance with Tjokroaminoto's concept. It was decided that the executive of the new party would be the same as the CSI; gradually the older mass movement would be transformed into a cadre-composed PSI commanding a substructure of occupationally based "unions," which would contain the rank and 6le. 10G Like the 1921 party discipline decision, this program was more drastic in appearance than in fact: SI leaders apparently feared to alienate local politicos, for the proposed PSI units maintained the right to decide their own membership, and the mechanism for securing adherence to party discipline was the same one that proved so inadequate after the previous congress. 108 It was immediately evident, however, that this time neither side was reluctant to force its adherents to choose. Tjokroaminoto announced that he would visit places where SI locals were under Communist control and set up rival pro-PSI units, and he did so promptly thereafter. 107 The PKI held its own congress and drew up a plan of battle, and the two groups exchanged recrimina-

145

Rise of Indonesian Communism tions so violent as to jeopardize the entire Indonesian opposition. 108 The battle naturally wreaked havoc on the Radical Concentration and PVH; even more serious was its impact on the mass membership of the Sarekat Islam, which was deeply disillusioned by fighting within the local SI executives and by the accusations the national leaders flung at each other. Almost universally, Indonesian opinion expressed distress at the dispute and urged that the opponents forget their quarrel in favor of the common struggle against the Dutch. 1119 However, the rancor stored up during a long and unhappy partnership could no longer be dammed; it flooded the entire movement and ended hopes for unity at this stage of Indonesia's national development. The first of Semaun's objectives after he returned to the Indies-the unification of Indonesian political forces-was thus destroyed; shortly thereafter his second project, the establishment of a powerful and disciplined labor movement, died a still more violent death. The precipitating event was a strike by the VSTP, the result of the long-suppressed effort of the railroad workers to achieve their demands of 1920 and to ward off the consequences of the depression. The railway union had increased steadily in membership and income from dues during the latter half of 1922, the direct result, as the VSTP pointed out, of the rail and tram workers' fear of the depression. 110 Pressure increased within the union for action to prevent the crisis from affecting the workers; at the same time the government and private companies began to lay off employees and raise job requirements, and moved toward reducing wages and the cost-of-living bonus. It seemed increasingly likely that the VSTP leaders would be forced either into an aggressive action, which they realized would be unsuccessful, or into a surrender of much of their prestige among the workers. Gradually, as a government report described, Semaun began to lean toward the first alternative: In the course of the year 1922 the preachings of the reformer were mixed with a new tone, which found greater response among the mass of the PKI following-that of a strike forced on the workers through hung~ as a result of the rationalization measures or through the government's actions against their leaders. Now here and now there, sometimes weakly and sometimes strongly, his urging to direct action made itself heard, an appeal better suited to that group of the wban proletariat upon which the misfortune of the times pressed than were admonitions to calculated preparation and undiminished exertion for a goal which lay in the inde6nite future. When the partial withdrawal of the cost-of-living bonus was eventually announced, 146

Semaun's Program a spirit of resistance arose among the workers, and especially .among the members of the most powerful and best-led organization, that of the rail and tramway personnel (VSTP) ,111

The government had announced the first cost-of-living bonus reduction, to talce effect on January 1, 1923, and the private rail lines had stated they would also announce major wage and personnel cuts on that day. The VSTP therefore decided to hold its twelfth congress soon after that date. The central issue of the meeting would be a proposal by the Tjirebon VSTP branch to consider whether the rationalization measures, if put through as planned, should be protested by an industrywide strike or by strikes against individual firms, or whether a slowdown, mass resignation, or some other form of protest should be made. Announcing this, the VSTP executive declared that it did not intend to support actions for wage raises during the depression, but it would insist that the pay scale not drop below that of the state-line level of 1921. If the companies wished to rationalize, the executive asserted, they could best do so by lowering their highest salaries and holding their lowest ones at a reasonable level. 112 Until the congress met, both the VSTP and the PVH tried other methods of putting pressure on the government and alleviating discontent among workers already affected. Depression Committees were formed, anti-budget-cutting demonstrations were held, cooperative enterprises for the unemployed were discussed, and app~ls and protests were addressed to the Volksraad, the Governor General, and the government in Holland. 113 The other Indonesian parties joined in protesting the government refusal to compromise on the drastic rationalization plans; and even the collaborationist PEB (Political-Economic Union), which had been founded to encourage Indonesian palitical activity outside the opposition, protested the government's handling of the issue. 114 Their efforts were of no avail, for the beginning of 1923 brought the promised acrossthe-board reduction in the cost-of-living bonus, and its complete elimination was set for six months later. When the VSTP convened its congress in February 1923, it inevitably centered its discussion on a strike. 1111 At the meeting the railroad union leaders emphasized that the strike, if it came, would not be the result of unreasonable demands by the workers but of the government's stubborn refusal to yield at all in its plans to cut wages of its lowest-paid employees. Semaun polled the 147

Rise of Indonesian Communism representatives of the locals, almost all of whom reported that their members wanted an industrywide strilce held as soon as possible. 111 The VSTP leader agreed to this demand but asked that the action be postponed to allow for a last round of negotiations with the authorities and the private companies concerned. The strike, he emphasized, must be well disciplined and properly timed, and must not consist of local ventures at wildcat walkouts and sabotage. 117 The congress yielded to his arguments, and the 6nal decision to strike was thus postponed once again. Even before the VSTP congress, the government had announced that any state railway workers who struck would be instantly dismissed.118 Semaun, who gave every indication of realizing the consequences of a strike, was thus in the unhappy position of the leaders of the pawnshop workers' union a year before. Nor did the government offer any crumbs of concession on which a face-saving retreat could be based. On the contrary, it went out of its way to indicate that it had no intention of dealing with Semaun at all. The PVH had proposed him as its representative to the Salary Commission, which the government had formed to determine a general wage policy for state employees; the nomination was promptly and rather acidly rejected on the grounds that it was "political." The refusal upset the Indonesians considerably, for the PVH had made its nomination in good faith. Semaun was not only the head of what was currently Indonesia's major union, but the government had in previous years indicated that in spite of his political views it considered him to be one of Indonesia's more responsible labor leaders and had consulted him regarding government labor policy during 1~1921.1111 At its December 1922 congress, the PVH proposed to seelc an audience with the Governor General to reverse this decision; Semaun himself opposed the idea, however, arguing that there was little reason to put faith in the commission, and after some debate a motion of no con6dence in the Salary Commission was passed. 120 The Salary Commission's prospects could certainly be doubted, for it was already apparent that the government had in mind a wage system highly unpalatable to the Indonesians. In 1913 the government had established a single salary scale, with an extra allowance only for officials brought from the Netherlands. It now thought that this was unnecessarily expensive. High salaries were deemed essential to attract Europeans to Indies government service, and the Eurasians, who filled 148

Semaun's Program

most of the middle-level functions, were thought to need a higher standard of living than Indonesians in public employ. As a result, a three-step salary scale was proposed, one that was to all intents and purposes racially based. Not only did it place the Indonesians at the low end of a wide wage range, but it seemed to con6rm that the classification of the population into European, Native, and Foreign Asiatic legal categories ( a measure introduced in 1919) was to be used to institutionalize the subordinate status of the ethnic Indonesians. This in fact was what eventually happened; the new salary scale contributed to the process by removing any remaining community of interest between the various racial groups in public employ. 121 The Salary Commission contained only one Indonesian representative, but it consulted with leaders of the major Indonesian public employees' unions. The first meeting took place in Batavia on February 19, 192.3, with representatives of the teachers' union ( PGHB) and Semaun and Najoan of the VSTP. Both unions asserted that the planned pay raises, intended to restore partially the cost-of-living bonus, were so set up that they would benefit only the higher-paid ( that is, non-Indonesian) employees. Hali of the salary-increase budget was for higher-paid officials; this meant, Semaun pointed out, that the bulk of the Indonesian public servants could expect a raise of 5 to 8 per cent in place of a 2.5 per cent cost-of-living bonus. Similar objections were voiced in Jogjakarta at the commission's next discussions, where the spokesman for the union of teachers training school employees ( Kweekschoolbond) denounced the intended wage scale. At the final session, held in Surabaja on February 24, the VIPBOW attacked the commission even more sharply, demanding the government restrict salary differentiation and establish a two-step wage scale, based on whether the employee was an Indies resident or an imported specialist. These complaints were received unsympathetically, and the debate became so heated that the Indonesians walked out before the conference ended. 122 These developments did much to alienate the politically conscious Indonesians, the great body of whom worked for the government. They accordingly sympathized with the railroad workers, who grew increasingly impatient for a strike after further discussions with government and private employers failed. On March 8 and 9, 1923, a closed meeting of VSTP leaders was held in Bandung; they decided, reportedly without Semaun's approval, 123 to go ahead with plans for 149

Rise of Indonesian Communism an industrywide strike. One last round of negotiations took place on April 9 and 12; the government and private spokesmen refused to concede on any of the points offered by the unions, and thereafter Semaun and his fellow VSTP leaders accepted a strike as inevitable. 124 Having made this decision, the VSTP chiefs began an intensive campaign to gain sympathy and support for the coming conflict, pressing the argument that a strike was being forced upon them. The government, which had been observing this progress with disfavor, now stepped in; on April 18 Semaun and the recently returned Darsono were informed that if they did not moderate their actions they would be in immediate danger of internment. 1211 The effect of this warning was unhappy, for Semaun lost his temper and said that if any VSTP leaders were arrested, the union would immediately strike. 1241 His challenge was a political error, for it aroused the criticism of otherwise sympathetic Indonesian moderates. As the Budi Utomo leader Sutopo remarked, Semaun possessed the admirable qualities of honesty and sincerity; but he had evidently fallen prey to the •sins of the West"pride and stubbornness. 127 His declaration was also a major strategical blunder, for it gave the government an opportunity to force the strike before the union was prepared and before the sugar harvest, when the railroads of Central and East Java functioned at peak capacity. On May 8, two days after his challenge to the government, Semaun was carted off to jail, charged with having breached the speech laws a month before. The Semarang tramway personnel struck as soon as they heard of his arrest, and they were joined by demonstrative walkouts of sellers in the public markets, machine shop employees, and automobile and truck drivers from that city. Within a few days the strike had spread to Pekalongan, Tega], Madiun, Surabaja, and Tjirebon, and it then advanced rather raggedly to the other railroad centers of Java. 128 In a short time most VSTP adherents ( though, as in the pawnshop strike, only the Javanese ones 129 ) were out on strike. D. M. G. Koch, who was then editor of the East Java edition of the lndische Courant, visited strike rallies in Surabaja and nearby Wonokromo on the evening before the VSTP stopped work: That night journey is clearly etched in my memory. We visited several working class houses, where fifteen to thirty railroad workers received their instructions from local leaders. It was impressed on them that they were to handle their equipment properly and, before leaving the railway installations and workshops, to replace toob, drive the locomotives into the sheds after

150

Semaun's Program

putting out the fires, and in general to commit absolutely no sabotage. The mood was embittered and determined. They were reminded of the seriousness of the strike plan, and the duty of solidarity was stressed. 130 The result of the strike was predictably disastrous in spite of such efforts to avoid unnecessary hostility. The government dismissed all striking employees, established strict military control over the rail lines, prohibited the right of assembly for the VSTP, and drastically restricted it for all organizations in the residencies of Semarang, Kediri, Madiun, Pekalongan, Priangan, and Surabaja. It also took stem measures against the strikers. Koch recalled: There was in Surabaja a neighborhood of about three hundred company houses for lower personnel of the state rail line. On the morning the strike began the people received orders to move out of those houses; police and soldiers dragged furniture and household goods from them. It was a miserable sight. Weeping women sat with their few possessions on the roadside, in a drizzling rain. My wife went over and met a couple of women with babies several weeks old, whom she took along in the car and installed in a few rooms in the outbuildings of our house. Their husbands naturally also came to us for shelter. A police commissioner warned that we were making ourselves liable to prosecution: it was "support for the strike," and the government had let it be known that any form of support for the strike would be punished. Shocked, I wrote a sharply worded article over the affair; but the official antistrike action did not go so far that I was prosecuted for this, although according to the law it was a criminal offense. 131 The law which made. punishable the sheltering of strikers' families was Article 161 bis, which was added to the Indies criminal code two days after the strike had broken out: He who, with the intent of disturbing the public peace or disrupting the economic life of the community, or knowing or being in a position to know that such disturbance of the public peace or disruption of the economic life of the community would be the result, causes or abets that several persons abandon or in spite of lawfully given order refuse to carry out work for which they have contracted or to which they are bound by virtue of their employment, will be punished with imprisonment of up to five years or a fine of not more than ten thousand guilders. The Dutch socialists attacked the law as a juridical monstrosity, drawn up to enable the government to prevent any act it might choose to interpret as connected with what it defined as a strike. It showed, too, the SOAP accused, that Fock's government was bent on destroying all 151

Rise of Indonesian Communism Indonesian opposition; in protest, the socialists took the unusual step of joining with the CPH to offer parliament a motion criticizing the Indies government, urging Fock's removal, and asking an end to the extraordinary rights and the measures imposed in connection with the strike. 132 In the Volksraad, Indonesian, ISDP, and some NIVB delegates protested the government handling of the strike, but without effect. The great weight of European opinion approved the firm measures and applauded Article 161 bis precisely because it did constitute a political weapon: The magistrate no longer has to salt away warrants against notorious leaders in order to employ them at a moment when they have committed a deed which the law does not forbid {as happened with Semaun, and again with

Sudibio [another VSTP leader]); instead, he can haul the mischief-maker straight from the podium at the very moment he oversteps this Jaw. This can only serve to improve respect for law. 133 Under the new law many VSTP and other radical leaders were arrested, seriously impairing the leadership of both the union and the PKl. 134 Partly as a result of the government measures, which included restriction of the union's use of the mails and telegraph service, and partly as a result of its own poor organization, the VSTP central executive was virtually cut off from its branches outside Semarang. so that it could not give leadership to the strike. Sugono had been named "strike dictator" and temporary chairman of the union following Semaun's arrest, and a "Central Leadership of the Rail and Tram Strike in the Netherlands Indies" was formed as soon as the strike broke out. It appears, however, to have been unable to communicate in any way with the VSTP branches, and it had little idea of the general progress of the strike. Moreover, because of the restricted freedom of assembly, it could not meet with more than two strikers at a time. 135 Within a few weeks the VSTP 6nances, substantial though they were for an Indonesian union of that day, had been exhausted, 186 and the workers, who soon saw the hopelessness of their cause, began to ask for their jobs back again. 137 The union accepted the inevitable and tried to negotiate the reacceptance of the strikers. A "council of mediation" was set up, and Sugono and Kadarisman held discussions on behalf of the VSTP; but since they refused to negotiate without a guarantee that all strikers would be taken back, they very quickly reached an impasse.138 The government was adamant, and the private companies were both disinclined to deal with the union and eager to take advan152

Semaun's Program

tage of the strike to make drastic wage and personnel cuts. Its back broken, the strike lingered on until July, when the government announced its intention to banish Semaun; then it quietly succumbed. The government justified its severity by arguing that the strike was inspired by political and not economic motives. It pointed out that Semaun's arrest had been the immediate cause of the walkout, and that the VSTP leaders and their allies tried to turn it into a general strike. 139 On the other hand, the state railroad authorities had said even before the VSTP congress was held that a strike would be considered illegal, and the government had similarly called "political" the PPPB strike of the year before. It thus seems quite likely that the authorities would have taken the same attitude regardless of Semaun's action or the calls for a general strike. The government interpretation of the nature of the conflict was protested not only by the Communists, who insisted that it was purely economic, 140 but also by the less radical Indonesian groupings. It could hardly be claimed that the strike was pushed upon the workers by their leaders, since, as the government's own reports pointed out, the reverse was patently the case. Union demands had been nonpolitical and were in most instances justified: the railroad workers were among the most underpaid in the state employ, and elimination of the cost-of-living bonus would reduce their wages by one-fourth. As for the striking employees of the private lines, most of them had not benefited from the wage raises granted in many other industries; their demands were essentially the same as those presented in 1920, at which time the authorities had thought them reasonable. In spite of the abject failure of the strike itself, the VSTP action gained some advantages for the left: Indonesian opinion nearly unanimously denounced the harsh measures taken to suppress the strike, thus increasing sympathy for the radicals and disillusionment with the government. 141 The Communists had gained their martyr: Semaun, Sinar Hindia proudly announced, had become the Gandhi of Indonesia. 142 The martyr gained was not worth the leader lost, however; and the increased general sympathy with the revolutionary standpoint did not make up for the discouragement and disorganization inflicted on the Semarang-oriented labor movement. Like the pawnshop workers' union before it, the VSTP went into a state of shock from which its recovery seemed for a long time dubious. 148 The rest of the leftist unions sank into profound apathy, and the PKI executive frankly admitted that it was having trouble maintaining contact with its 153

Rise of Indonesian Communism branches, collecting dues, and publishing the party paper. 144 The restrictions on the right of assembly prevented the Communists from convening in their major centers: no PKI meeting was held in Semarang, for example, from early May until October 1923, after the ban was lifted. 1411 The middle of 1923 thus saw both major branches of the Indonesian opposition in a state of distress. The Communists had been crippled by the VSTP defeat, and the SI was feeling deeply the effects of the split with Semarang. The attempts to unite the Indonesian movement through the Radical Concentration and the PVH disintegrated amid these turbulent events: both of these organizations expired in June, almost unnoticed in the wake of the railroad strike. 148 The Indonesian political opposition was not again united in a single coalition until 1939; the non-Communist labor organizations retired from politics and thenceforth functioned more as white-collar professional associations than as unions. Semaun, who had ended by doing what he had warned his followers against, departed for the Netherlands in August. Sinar Hindia hopefully predicted his return: We cherish, however, the hope that you will some day be allowed to tread the Indies soil once more. The portents of this can already be seen in the people's struggle in Europe (which has now begun in Germany) to destroy the capitalist system, root and branch. It is, in short, the world-wide people's movement which will make it possible to bring you and other comrades back from exile. 147

He was not to return, however, for more than thirty years. The events surrounding the VSTP strike strengthened the trend among the Indonesian political elite to bifurcate along revolutionary and quietist lines. This same separation appeared in the mass membership of political movements, with the result that popular support for the less radical leaders melted into indifference, leaving the politically active remnant committed to the revolutionary left. It thus came about that, in the period we are about to discuss, the energy and popularity of Tjokroaminoto's Sarekat Islam faded very rapidly, and by the end of 1923 the PKI was visibly the only major representative of the Indonesian popular movement. The bloc within had ended, but in this case quite differently from that in China of the 1920s. Of the two competing wings, the Communists emerged the victors; but they had gained command of a dying movement. 154

VIII

The Bloc Above ON MARCH 4, 1923, the Communists convened a special "Congress of the PKI and Red SI" to decide what steps to take after their expulsion from the Sarekat Islam. The meeting was held in Bandung, with a session two days later in Sukabumi; 2,000 to 3,000 persons attended, including delegates from fifteen PKI branches, thirteen Red SI locals, and thirteen labor unions. 1 The PKI executive was not so well represented: only Semaun, Subakat, and Sukarsono appeared, for the other members of the party's current governing board-Tan Malaka, Bergsma, Harry Dekker, Gondojuwono, and Dengah-were either in prison or exile. 2 They were present in spirit, however, for portraits of Malaka and Bergsma, Sneevliet and Baars lined the red-festooned walls of the congress hall, together with pictures of the newly returned Darsono and the PKI's international heroes, Marx, Lenin, and Gandhi. 3 The atmosphere was charged with stored-up resentment of the "White" Sarekat Islam, and Semaun and other Communist leaders bitterly denounced Tjokroaminoto and the CSL Some of their audience thought they went too far, in fact, and various complaints were addressed from the Boor. The only objector to receive satisfaction, however, was a Bandung student, the future Indonesian president Sukarno, who censured Hadji Misbach for the personal nature of his attack on Tjokroaminoto and won both considerable applause and an apology from the Muslim Communist leader.4 The Sarekat Islam, Semaun and Sukendar charged, no longer represented the people's interests; only the PKI could do this, for it alone was the defender of the poor and the leader of the fight for independence from foreign capitalist rule. Marxist and Koranic teachings were similar, Misbach and Sugono stressed; the PKI strove for freedom of religion and defended the right of Indonesia's Muslim population to the unfettered exercise of its religion. It sought to recapture Indonesia's idyllic past, Darsono declared; before the advent of foreign capital, the 155

Rise of Indonesian Communism people had enjoyed prosperity and social justice, and it was to this state that the party wished to return. 11 Laying the foundations for a popularity contest with the Sarekat Islam, the party took up the major issues on which the recent SI congress had hoped to gain mass support and formulated even stronger positions: It adopted resolutions denouncing the government's latest tax measures and the contract coolie system and declared its intention to further the interests of the peasantry and to cooperate with other Indonesian political groupings. 11 On the last point the party declared that, although it hoped eventually to see the country adopt a sovietbased socialist system, it realized that in a colonial land like Indonesia this goal could be attained only gradually and through parliamentary action. The PKI therefore would concentrate its political agitation in a campaign for a real parliament and would cooperate with all parties that shared a sincere interest in this reform. The Sarekat Islam, it emphasized, was not sincere. Since the CSI was basing its argument against the Communists largely on religion, a major object of the PKI meeting was to proclaim its support of Islam without abandoning the stand that religion and politics did not mix. It could do so because of the colonial government's promotion of Christianity and its attempts to regulate Muslim religious affairs: Muslims! Community of Islam. Will the PKI be able to represent the interests of the Islamic faith? OF COURSE! Here is the proof: READ!

The standpoint of the PKI regarding the defeme of the I1lamic faith is decided in the following motion:

Resolution VI The congress of the PKI and Sukabumi SI, gathered on Tuesday morning, March 6 at Sukabumi, etc., recognizing that in the Indies religious instruction in Islam is restricted through government regulations, to wit, that religious teachers are obliged to secure permission for the giving of instruction from the head of the regency, declaring that the PICI does not agree to governmental intervention in religious affairs, resolves: to call on the executive of the PKI to take the necessary steps toward the rescinding of this regulation [and] toward the liberation of religion from the state.i

156

The Bloc Above The most important resolutions taken by the congress were, however, on the organization of the movement's mass following. The PKI declared it intended to win the members of the non-Communist Sarekat Islam in the same manner the SI had indicated at its preceding congress it would use against its opponents: everywhere a White SI branch existed, the Communists would found a competing unit. To distinguish them from their local rivals, they would take the name Sarekat Rakjat (People's Union), a name that the PKI hoped (overoptimistically, as we shall see) would soon be assumed by all the Red SI branches. At the same time, the party made clear that it did not intend to create a rival to the CSI, as it had decided after the October 1921 schism, but would subordinate the mass units openly and directly to the PKI itself: 1. In all places where Red Sis exist, a branch of the PKI will be established. 2. The Red SI and PKI branches will work together. 3. This cooperation will center about the struggle against capitalism. 4. All major matters will be referred by the PKI and Red SI branches to the executive of the PKI in Semarang, attention of Chairman Semaun. 5. At least once a year the PKI will hold a congress, at which the delegates of the Red Sis and the PKI will determine policy in defense of the interests of the people of the Indies. 6. The Red SI units need pay no dues to the PKI; they have only to pay the costs of sending delegates to the annual congress. 7. PKl funds wiU be obtained from PKI branches ( 80 per cent of the funds received by PKI units must be deposited with the central executive). 8. The Red Sis wilI thus be in a financial position to defend the interests of their members, for they need not contribute to the PKI executive nor need they pay the expenses of such PKI and Red SI propagandists as Hadji Misbach, Darsono, Abulrachman, etc.: their travel costs wilI be paid by the executive of the PKI. 9. Wherever a capitalist SI d la Tjokroaminoto exists, the PKI will establish a party branch and an SR, which wi]] work together in the same way the PKI and the Red Sis do. 10. Further information on this matter can be obtained from the PKI executive. 8

'1t is now clear," the party proclaimed, "that the Red SI and the PKI and the future Sarekat Rak;at ARE UNITED into one fortress, one army, one front for the defense of the interests of the people of the Indies." 9 In effect, this decision reversed the position of the PKI on the mass

J,57

Rise of Indonesian Communism movement; for whereas the Communist party had previously acted as a bloc within the mass organization, it now set itseH openly at the head. The system it proposed was similar to that envisioned by Tjolcroaminoto for the relationship between the PSI and the mass following of the Sarekat Islam, and, as we shall see, it arose from the same concern -the desire to create an organization in which mass participation was subject to the strict control of a disciplined and ideologically cohesive elite. It was, however, far from clear that the PKI strategy corresponded with Comintern ideas on Asian Communist relations with the mass movement. The International's support of a close relationship with Asian nationalists had been expressed pointedly at its fourth congress, which convened in Moscow in November 1922. At this meeting the Comintem formally announced the end of the revolutionary period that had followed World War I. The capitalist system, it stated, had now temporarily stabilized; therefore, the European Communists must pursue a defensive tactic, consolidating their forces and working for reforms in alliance with socialist parties. Interpreting this program for Asia, Karl Radek warned that the Eastern Communists must be cautious and remember that soviets could not be formed overnight in the Orient. The Asian Communist parties, he said, were all too often ineffective groups of intellectuals who lacked any contact with the masses. To remedy this, the Communists must increase their activity in the labor movement and among the peasantry; they must associate with the revolutionary bourgeoisie and, if necessary, even with feudal elements.10 Unless the Asian Communists showed some practical achievement along these lines, Radek warned, they could not expect the International to give great attention to the Eastern question or to place its confidence in the Asian parties. The Comintern, it was obvious, was increasingly impressed by the prospects of association with Asian nationalism; for although the colonial Communist movements had not progressed much beyond embryo stage, nationalism was a visible revolutionary force. The masses, it seemed, were with the nationalists; and 10 the Masses!" was the slogan proclaimed by the fourth congress as world Communism's immediate task. In acknowledgment of this, the Asian parties were called on to participate in any movement that would give them access to the people. 11 The bloc within, newly adopted in China, was suggested as a method for this approach, and Chinese Communist representative Liu

158

The Bloc Above Jen-ch'ing explained how his party hoped thereby to gain control of the Chinese revolutionary movement. 12 Comintern support of the bloc within for all Asia was, however, by no means unambiguous: the same congress warned the Asian Communists at various points that in forming their partnership with nationalism, they should not forget to retain their proletarian purity, to criticize the local bourgeoisie, to adopt a program of agrarian revolution, and to struggle against reformism within the labor movement. 18 It was apparent that the International was still undecided as to how far Asian Communists should go in distinguishing themselves from their nationalist partners. On the one hand, concessions to nationalism seemed imperative; on the other, powerful voices still opposed sacrificing the purity of the Asian proletariat. The terms of the European united front from above could not be ignored, lest the unity of the international line be broken; nor could the Comintern overlook the problems created by Soviet diplomatic interests, which in the Middle East were served by militant anti-imperialism and in Western Europe were opposed to an outspoken stand. These conHicting considerations, when combined with a general ignorance of the situation in the countries concerned ( and a not infrequent indifference to the whole subject), led the congress to adopt a program that advised the Asian Communists to have their cake and eat it too. The Asian Communists, however, wanted to be supplied with the recipe for the cake, an understandable desire in view of Communist claims to scientific understanding of political events. To make the situation more complicated, Asian delegates usually had very definite ideas on certain ingredients of the recipe, depending on their interpretation of the situation in their individual countries, and they were accordingly upset when the International seemed to exclude them from its analysis. The result was considerable unhappiness on the part of the Asian delegates at the way in which the Eastern question was handled, and they ended by formally protesting to the meeting. 14 The objection, when read out on the floor of the congress, received a hearty round of applause,111 an unusual demonstration of rebellion even in the fairly liberal first years of the Comintern. Nonetheless, the move was quite unsuccessful. The central dissenting figures among the colonial delegates were India's M. N. Roy, who, although he was willing to soften somewhat his views about alliance with the nationalists, still wanted a more inde159

Rise of Indonesian Communism pendent proletarian policy, 16 and Indonesia's Tan Malaka, who thought, on the contrary, that not enough concessions had been made to nationalist feelings. Malaka had arrived in the Netherlands to begin his exile on May I, 1922; he had spent July and August in Berlin, visiting Darsono at the Comintem's West European headquarters 17 and then, after a brief return to Holland, had proceeded to Soviet Russia. At the beginning of November he attended an ECCi session devoted to preparing for the forthcoming Comintem congress; as the representative of "Java," he was given an advisory (nonvoting) place at the meeting. 18 At the congress itself, he served on the committee that discussed the Eastern question, which by his account was a scene of hopeless confusion: The Comintem (its Oriental Section) put forth a "thesis," which asserted that the Communist Parties in the colonial countries must aid and worlc together with the nationalist parties against imperialism. This thesis was introduced and defended by the Russian and Indian Communists. Surely everyone is agreed on the need to give help to the nationalists and for cooperating with them as a matter of abstract principle, as theory. But how to bring this into practice, how to realize concretely this cooperation and aid-this [the Comintem] had not been able to decide up to the time I left for Indonesia. At the time I left Moscow, the Comintem leaders were simply leaving the matter up to one's own judgment and the local situation. It is true that I became involved in a heated debate that had been going on for some time between the defenders of the thesis and its opponents. One evening, rather late, just after I had returned from a visit to a factory near Moscow, a Japanese Communist, the late Sen Katayama, who had been attacking a point in the thesis, asked me to continue the argument against the provision in question . . . . The difference in view, which seemed small enough at first, became clearly great when we descended from the airy, abstract heights of theory to the concrete world of fact. When my argument touched on actualities, such as boycotts or noncooperation or Pan Islamism, the gap between the abstract and the concrete, between theory and practice became visible. For example, the English Communists declared their objection to a boycott of English goods by the Indian people, inasmuch as this would increase unemployment in England. Therefore, how could one ask the English workers to cooperate with the boycotters in India and elsewhere? . . . The debate, which at first went smoothly, gradually became heated, lasting, if I remember rightly, for three days. At last the representative of the Comintem, assuming charge of the the~is, forbade me to speak. I replied to 160

The Bloc Above this with a strong protest against the manner of handling the Asian question, which was so complex and foreign to the Communists of the West. 19

Tan Malaka's particular concern was to repeal the denunciation of Pan-Islamism by the second Comintem congress. We will remember that the 1921 PKI congress had decided to take this matter up before the Comintem, and that, in addition, Mataka was a personal proponent of alliance between Communism and revolutionary Islam. He had continued to assert his views in the Netherlands, arguing in the Dutch Communist newspaper that support for Pan-Islamism would serve the revolution and not, as the Comintern had argued, the interests of imperialism: Among the European Muslims in the Balkans, among the Arab Muslims, the African, Hindustani, and, yes, even the Indonesian Muslims there is but one hope: Liberation from the Wcstern imperialist powers. . .. The attempt at reunification of the ~tuslim countries coincides with [the struggle for] liberation from the yoke of foreign mle. The victory of Kemal is reawakening the old self-ende, pp. 267-268). 16. Venlag uvende, pp. 254, 265-268; see also De Tribune, Aug. 16, 1920, p. 4; Aug. 17, 1920, p. 2; Aug. 18, 1920, p. 2. 17. Verslag uvende, p. 254; De Tribune, Aug. 19, 1920, p. 2. The rundown of votes given In D. N. Aidit's history of the movement refers to the results of the referendum held later among the party branches ( Aidit, Sedfarah, p. 44); see lIVW, Oct. 20, 1920, p. 9. 18. Venlag zevende, p. 254. 19. See Elias Hurwicz, Die Orientpolltik der Dritten Intemationale (The Eastern Policy of the Third International) (Berlin, 1922), pp. 12, 15, 26; Edward Hallett Carr, The Bolsheolk Revolution, 1911-1923 (New York, 1953), Ill, 232, 234, 236; L. A. Modzhorian, "Bor'ba demokraticheslcogo lageria za natsional'nuJu nezavisimost' I natsional'nyl suverenitet" (The Struggle of the Democratic Camp for National Independence and National Sovereignty), Sooetskoe g08fUUJntoo I pravo, January 1953, p. 57; Xenia Eudin and Robert North, Soofet Ruma and the East, 1920-1921 (Stanford, 1957), pp. 46, 77-79; A. A. Cuber, "lzuchenie istorii stran Vostoka v SSSR za 25 let" (Twenty-Five Years of Research on the History of the East in the USSR ) , in Dvadtsal' plat' let utorlchukol nauki o SSSR (Moscow, 1940), p. 232. 20. Achmed Zalikov, "The New Russia and the Peoples of the Orient," Nooma Zhlzn', Jan. 19, 1918, as quoted in Hurwicz, OrlentpolUik, p. 14. 21. Quoted in Hurwicz, OrlenlpolUlk, pp. 17-18. 22. Zhlzn' Natsionafnostei (no. 5), Dec. 8, 1918, as translated in Euclln and North, Soviet Ru,sla, p. 162. This department developed twelve country sections, which extended its authority beyond the exclusively Islamic areas to include China, Korea, Japan, and India (Eudin and North, Soviet Russia, p. 78). 23. K. Trolanovskil, V ostok" i reooliutaffa ( The East and the Revolution) (Moscow, 1918), pp. 66-67; and see Hurwicz, Orlentpolitik, pp. 17-18. The League was created at a conference that began In Moscow on Oct. 31, 1918. 24. Trolanovslcii, Vostok•, p. 65. Troianovslcii, one of the founders of the League, sets forth the program drawn up by the League at its first congress. 25. Troianovskii, Vostok", pp. 66-71; see also Hurwicz, Orientpolllik, pp. 1~23. The League, apparently reflecting Russian concern over Japanese expansion In the East, declared that since the varied development of diHerent Asian nationalities made possible an Asian imperialism, it would be best for Eastern counbies to unite on a basis of equality: "It can begin with a narrower federation, say the Indian, and expand to a broader one, to a federation of the whole broad Asian continent, to the United States of Asia" (Troianovksli, Vo.nor, p. ff7). The program further announced: In its economic policy the League for the Liberation of the East proceeds from the principle of the natural international division of labor and the liighest utilization of the t'COnomic and technical bases of this baclcward, predominantly agrarian rontinent. The Lea~e therefore does not put forth the reactionary slogan of "Asia for the Asians' hut, on the contrary, strongly supports freedom of entry and

376

Notes, pp. 55-57 penetration Into Asia for all those who wish to exploit its inexhaustible resources by peaceful and cultural methods and at the same time to develop the productive capacity of the countries of the East. Troianovskii, Vostok", p. 69. The only counbies capable of such altruistic exploitation, the League continued, were the European socialist republics, of which Soviet Russia happened to be the sole extant example. 26. The League's action program for the Asian revolutionaries included popular seizure of transportation and communications facilities, the end of foreign monopolies and concessions, the replacement of indirect taxes by a progressive income tax, the nullification of state debts and war loans, the demobilization of the army and its replacement by a people's militia, the replacement of the existing credit system by non-Interest-bearing loans from the state or commune, the abolition of castes ( the only visible concession made to Asian conditions), and no restrictions on international trade. This last was probably linked to the plans for peaceful and cultural Soviet exploitation. (Trolanovskii, Vostok", pp. 70-71). 27. "Address to the Second All-Russian Congress of Communist Organizations of the Peoples of the East," in Lenin, National Liberation Movement, pp. 235-236. 28. For an early expression of this view, see his 1912 article on "Democracy and Narodimi in China," in Lenin, National Liberation Movement, p. 43. For a detiwed dbcussion of Lenin's early views on the East, see Whiting, Soviet Pollcle, in China, 1917-1924 (New York, 1954), pp. 12-46. 29. The congress resolved to adopt a "policy of bringing together the proletarians and semi-proletarians of different nationalities for a common revolutionary struggle agnin~1: the landowners and bourgeoisie," a struggle that was to include the colonial countries (Vo,'moi S"ezd RKP[b), p. 49, as translated In Carr, Bolmevik Revolution, III, 236). 30. Carr, Bolshevik Revolution, III, 235-236. 31. Almost the only recognition of the agrarian base of the Asian revolution expressed before the second Comintern congress was in a speech by Bukharin to the Third All-Russian Congress of Chinese Workers: We shall fight capitalism In its centers-in Paris, London, and other places; and you will help us by overthrowing it In Asia. You will be able to do this if you mobilize the broad masses of the population and give them definite aims. There can be here two watchwords; First, "The fight against European capitalism," which is clear to everyone.•.. The second watchword therefore is, "Throw out the estate owners." The aim, consequently, ii an agrarian revolution. You will be able to accomplish the rising of the masses through the war cry, as the slogan "Seize the land from the estate owners" Is clear to everyone. Izvestia, June 22, 1920, translated in The Second Congreu of the Communid International (Washington, 1920), pp. 133-134. Emphasis in the text. Since this meeting was held just before the second Comintem congress, it is quite possible that Bukharin's statement reflected the theses Lenin had prepared for that gathering. 32. Zinoviev added that the ECCi had organized two conferences with representatives from China, Korea, Armenia, Persia, Turkey, and other Eastern lands during the previous year, but these had not been enough to give the young revolutionary movements in those counbies the direction they needed. G. Zlnoviev, Bericht de, Eukutiokommttus der Kommuniltilchen Internationale an den 11. Weltkongres, der Kommuniltilchen Internationale (Report of the Executive Committee of the Communist International to the Second World Congress of the Communist International) ( Petrogr:id, 1920 ), pp. 35-36. 33. See WS, p. 60; The Second Congress of the Communilt Intemational,

:rl7

Notes, pp. 57-60 p. 40; De Tril,une, July 24 and Aug. 14, 1920; HVW, Dec. 21, 1920, p. 43; Der zwelte Kongress de, Kommunistlschen Internationale (The Second Congress of the Communist International) (Hamburg, 1921), p. 783 (hereafter cited as II Kongre.r.r). The last-named source lists two delegates from the Netherlands Indies; it seems probable that this is a faulty statistic, however, since the UDDamed second delegate never spolce at the congress and was not mentioned in any other sources. He could not have been an Indonesian, for Sneevliet declared to the meeting his hope that there might be real natives of that country to represent it at the next congress (II Kongress, p. 189). It is also unlilcely that he was Dutch, since the Netherlands Communist newspaper listed Sneevliet as the only delegate going from Holland to represent Indonesia; none of the three delegates representing the Netherlands proper had been identified with the movement in the Indies (De Tribune, July 24 and Aug. 14, 1920). 34. De Tribune, Feb. 18, 1919. 35. "Het tiende jaarcongres van de communistische partij" (The Tenth Annual Congress of the Communist Party), HVW, Aug. 23, 1919, pp. 414-415. 36. Just how close Sneevliet's contact with Indonesia was after his expulsion is difficult to say. Het Vrife Woord complained that registered mail between himself, his wife (still in Indonesia), and the ISDV was not coming through and accused either British or Dutch officials of intercepting it ( HVW, Apr. 26, 1919, p. 270); but certainly he wa.~ by no means cut off from the movement in the Indies. In his report on the Indonesian party to the second Comintem congress Sneevliet revealed that he lcnew the ISDV was planning to assume· the name PKI at a forthcoming congress, but apparently he did not lcnow that the meeting had talcen place nearly two months before ( Maring, Nlederliindlsch, p. 409). Since, however, he had left Holland for Moscow in May ( according to De Tribune, Aug. 14, 1920), this is not surprising. 37. II Kongress, p. 192. 38. 11 Kongress, p. 139. 39. 11 Kongress, pp. 230-231. 40. JI Kongress, p. 149. 41. For other points of difference between Roy's and Lenin's views, see Carr, Bolshevik Revolution, Ill, 254. 42. JI Kongress, pp. 144-145, 230-231; and see Carr, Bolsheoik Revolution, III, 254-255. 43. II Kongress, p. 194. 44. It has been pointed out that Roy was finally persuaded by Lenin to modify the wording of his theses considerably, particularly in those sections dealing with bourgeois nationalism. By mistake, however, the original version was included in the stenographic report of the congress and in subsequent reprints of its proceedings; it was not until a second edition of the report was made in 1934 that the error was corrected; see Whiting, Soviet PoUcles, pp. 51--56. A good bit of Roy's analysis was later adopted by Stalin as part of his theory on the ~Ionia) · question, and the view presented in the theses became an important part of the Comintern's explanation of the Asian situation between 19.28 and 1934, when the International held a less tolerant attitude toward the colonial bourgeoisie. In general, the origin of these ideas was not mentioned-certainly they were not credited directly to Roy, who had since been estranged from the Comintem. When, however, the matter of the supplementary theses was brought up during this later period, it was explained that they represented the situation in the more highly developed dependent countries, such as India and China, where a

378

Notes, pp. 60--64 greater degree of class differentiation had been reached, and that Lenin's program had been framed for the more backward Central Asian territories ( Strategiia I taktllca Komintema v natsional'no-kolonialnol revoliutm, na primere Kitala [Strategy and Tactics of the Comlntem in the National-Colonial Revolution, after the Example of China] [n.p., 1934], p. 10; hereafter cited as Strategiia). This is interesting if somewhat precarious reasoning, for it implied that Lenin's program did not apply in those areas which were the focus of Comlntem interest in the East. Certainly Lenin's theses derived much from Russia's Central Asian concern, but they were intended to apply to all dependent countries. 45. II Kongress, p. 142. 46. II Kongress, p. 230. The original draft of Lenin's theses showed its origin in Russia's Central Asian interests clearly, for it neglected the Pan-Asian angle and read: Thirdly, it is necessary to stru,we against Pan-lslamism and similar currents of opinion which attempt to combine the movement for liberation from European and American imperialism with a strengthening of the position of the khans, landlords, mullahs, etc. Lenin's theses, as given in Strategiia, p. 34. Lenin apparently thought the question of the Communist attitude toward the Islamic movement a knotty one, for when he sent his proposed colonial program to the congress delegates for criticill'Dl shortly before the Comintem meeting, he included the provision on Pan-Islamism among those on which he particularly desired comment; text of Lenin's note to the congress delegates, as reproduced in Strategiia, p. 31. 47. Or. S., "Een mooie vergadering" (A Fine Meeting), HVW, Jan. 17, 1920, p. 118; opinion of the sixth ISDV congress on participation in the Concentration of People's Liberation Movements ( see below). 48. "Het S.I. congres en de Vakcentrale" (The SI Congress and the Conoentration of Labor Movements), HVW, Aug. 10, 1921, p. 4. 49. P. B., "De actie der bolsjewisten" (The Action of the Bolshevists), HVW, Jan. 17, 1920, p. 117. 50. "Politieke Conoentratie" (Political Conoentration), HVW, Jan. 10, 1920, p. 108. The Concentration's program does not seem radical by present standards, but it was not much different from that adopted by the ISDV in 1918. Briefty, it called for ( 1 ) a popularly elected parliament, ( 2) deoentralization of government, ( 3) prohibition of child labor and restriction of woman labor, ( 4) a minimum wage, ( 5) recognition by the authorities of labor unions as bargaining agents for workers organi7.ed by them, ( 6) abolition of all indirect taxes in favor of taxes on profits and capital, ( 7) enterprise in state hands wherever possible, (8) universal free public education. See Verslag zesde, p. 115; SI V, p. 371, col. b. 51. Quoted in vBr.-H., "De jaarvergadering der I.S.D.V." (The Annual Meeting of the ISDV), HVW, Jan. 17, 1920, p. 121. 52. Hadji Agus Salim, explaining the difference between "national" and "nationalist" orientations to the October 1921 Sarekat Islam congress; quoted in Sl V, p. 377, col. a. See also "Nationalistische beweging" ( Nationalist Movement ), Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch-lndu!, V, 878, col. a, for a concise differentiation between the protonationalist and nationalist phases of the Indonesian independence movement. 53. P. B., "Het Bolsjewisme en bet proletariaat in bet Oosten" ( Bolshevism and the Proletariat in the East), HVW, Mar. 6, 1920, p. 179 (response by

379

Notes, pp. 64-66 Bergsma to a favorable nationalist reaction to Troianovskii's work on the East and the revolution). See also P. B., "Communisme contra nationalisme" (Communism against Nationalism), HVW, Feb. 7, 1920. For a general Impression of Douwes Deldcer's political ideas, see his pamphlet Een aoclogenetbchs grondwet ( A Sociogenetic Constitution) ( Semarang. n.d. ) and his autobiographical 70 /aar Konsekwent (Seventy Years Consistent) (Bandung, 1950). 54. See Alimin Prawirodiredjo, "Louteren wif om/" Open brief aan eDc lid van de Sarekat Islam ( Let Us Purify Ourselves! Open Letter to All Members of the Sarekat Islam) (Weltevreden, October 1919), pamphlet circulated by the Sarekat Hindia at the time of the SI congress. See also C. S., "Het S.I.-congres," p. 33; Nota, p. 2; SI V, p. 372, cols. a and b. The Sarekat Hindia's Dutch-language title was Nationaal Indische Partij ( National Indies Party); its oJllclal program may be found in the Volhraad /aarboelcfe (Vollcsraad Yearbook), I (1922-1923), 52-59. 55. Mohammad Kasan, article In Smar Hfndla, Aug. 25, 1919, in IPO, no. 35, 1919, p. 15. See also Dengah, editorial in Soeara &'fat, Sept. 10, 1919, in IPO, no. 38, 1919, p. l; and the debate between Douwes Deldcer and Bergsma at the 1919 lnsulinde congress, De lndbchs Gld,, XLI ( 1919), 1169-1170. 56. The most extensive treatment of this thesis in PKI literature is in Soegiman, Banlcroetnla Portal Ksbangsaan di Hlndoestan (The Bankruptcy of the Nationalist Party in Hindustan) (Malang, 1926). This booklet ascn'bes the differences between the Indian and the Indonesian movements to the fact that in India it was necessary for the Communists to struggle against both foreign imperialism and a native bourgeoisie, whereas in Indonesia the lack of a native middle class allowed the popular movement to concentrate singlemindedly on the Bght against the Dutch (see especially pp. 13-15, 52). Sugiman concluded: The Indonesian movement, though it does not possess such advocates as Gandhi and Das used to be, faces imperialism and capitalism more directly. The industrial workers, who are oriented about the PIO, and the suffering people, who follow the Sarekat Ralcjat [the mass movement then sponsored by the PKI], will sooner reach their &naf objective than the workers or peasants anywhere else in Asia. This is not because the inhabitants of Indonesia are of a higher level than the other inhabitants of Asia, but because of the nature of the economic and class conflicts In Indonesia between the people and Dutch imperialism. Soegiman, Banhoetnla, p. 61. 57. Sneevliet and Bergsma were the most prominent proponents of this viewpoint, but it seems to have been rather generally accepted throughout the CPH, for party chairman Van Ravesteyn emphasi?.ed it in a major meeting on the Indonesian question; see De Tribune, Feb. 27, 1925. 58. Vers'4g zevende, p. 2615; emphasis in the text. Baars was a consistent and outspoken antinationalist, as Indonesia's future President recalled:

I confess that when I was sixteen and at hip school in Surabaja, I was Influenced by a socialist by the name of A. Baars whO gaYe me lessons; be said: do not believe In nationalism, but belieYe in the humanity of the whole world, do not haYe even the least sense of nationalism. That was in 1917. But In 1918, thanks be to God, there was another man who recalled me, and that was Dr. Sun Yat Sen. In his work San Min Chu I, or The Three People'11 Principle11, I found a lesson which exposed the cosmopolitanism taught by A. Baars. Sukamo, speech of June l, 1945, translated in The Birth of Pantfa Silo ( Djakarta. 1961 ), pp. 13-14. Baars had been particularly vocal in his opposition to Indo-

380

Notes, pp. 6(µ39 nesian nationalism since his return from the Netherlands: "We know nationalism and social patriotism here" he emphasized, "only as our opponents." A. B., "Meloverpeinzingen" (May Thoughts), HVW, May 5, 1920, p. 230. • 59. The referendum was set up at a meeting of the executive on July 14, 1920. It took some time for the poll to be held; the results, announced in HVW, Oct. 20, 1920, p. 9, showed 33 branches in favor, 2 opposed, and l abstaining. A large number of ballots were received after the deadline and were therefore disqualified. 60. HVW, Nov. 5, 1920, p. 13; from the executive's announcement of the December congress. 61. Sneevliet's participation in the Comintem meeting was announced in HVW, Sept. 5, 1920, p. 317; the paper said that it was learned from reports in the Dutch Communist press. The Semarang PKI/SI letter of authorization was dated the same day; it is reproduced in WS, plate facing p. 60. The executives of the Semarang branch of the PKI and SI were at that time virtually identical; they authorized Sneevliet to "act in the names of these parties, present proposals, and perform tasks assigned him by the above-mentioned parties" as he saw flt. 62. This date is, of course, a good time after the July 1920 meeting of the International. However, Russia's isolation and the lack of international press interest in the less spectacular aspects of the Comintern meeting may well have meant that detailed news of the congress traveled back to Holland with the Dutch Communist delegation, which arrived home in September 1920, and from there came by sea mail to the Indies, a voyage then lasting about two months. In any event, November 20 is the first date on which Het Vrife Woord published more than the bare descriptions of congress events that it could receive from normal news sources. Only the Lenin theses were reported; if the PKI was aware of Roy's alternate proposals, it did not mention them. 63. A. B., "Moskau" (Moscow), HVW, Dec. 4, 1920, p. 33; Baars's other comments are taken from this article, pp. 33-34. 64. Among the ISDV /PKI members that had held town council seats during 1919-1920 were Baars, Coster, Semaun, Hartogh, Hekket, Mohammad Jusuf, Reeser, Snel, Wakker, and Mohammad Kasan. Hgh., "Semaoen's standpoint," p. 106; P. B., "Een benoeming" (An Appointment), HVW, Jan. 17, 1920, p. 122; VB1"1lag zevende, p. 253. In the 1918 elections, the ISDV did not run in Batavia but threw its votes to Insulinde; in Surabaja it worked with the SI and Insulinde; in Semarang it formed a combination with the SI that was opposed by Insulinde. Sneevliet, "Gemeenteraads-verkiezingen" (Town Council Elections), HVW, Sept. 10, 1918, p. 309. 65. See "Verlclaring van het hoofdbestuur der I.S.D.V. betreffende de Volksraadverkiezingen" ( Declaration of the Executive of the ISDV concerning the Volkeraad Elections), HVW, Jan. 10, 1918, pp. 81-82. The ISDV campaign platform called for ( l) a Volksraad elected directly and without property quali.6cations for the voters; (2) recognition of the rights to political association and assembly, the right to strilce, freedom of speech, etc.; (3) opposition to Indie Weerbaar; ( 4) heavier taxes on profits to ease the tax burden on the common people. The chief opposition to this platform came from Budi Utomo, which found it too radical; Insulinde tried vainly to mediate the dispute. 66. The first Volksraad was composed of a chairman, named by the Crown, and 38 members, haH of which were appointed by the Governor General and haH chosen by a 650-man electoral coUege, of which 500 members were named by the Governor General and 150 chosen by town and regency councils. According to law, at least one-fourth of the appointed and one-half of the elected

381

Notes, pp. 69-72 members were to be native Indonesians; In the first Volksraad there were five appointed and ten elected Indonesian members. Most of them belonged to the native bureaucncy ( pangreh prad#tJ) and were very conservative. IndonesJan sulfrage was inboduced In May 1918, after the first Volhraad was formed; it was resbicted to th~ who had an Income of at least 1,200 guilders a year and a knowledge of Dutch equivalent to that obtained by graduation from an HIS ( school for natives In which Dutch was the language of mstruction). This resulted In an extremely skewed electorate: according to Van Ravesteyn, there were 68 Indonesian and 2,000 European registered voters in Surabaja in 1919 (Handellngen 2e Kamer, 1918/1919, p. 2024). There were various complaints that qualified Indonesians did not bother to register, either from lack of intere:.1 or ( particularly in the case of SI adherents) as a gesture of noncooperation; this seems to have kept the Indonesian electorate below what the restrictions allowed. See De Indische Gku, XL (1918), 995. fn. Three-fourths of the branch executives of the SI voted on Tjokroaminoto's participation in the Volksraad; oE these, 28 faVQred it, 26 opposed it, and 22 abstained. One-third of the CSI members abstained in the vote on the subject; the result was 6 for and 5 against. It was therefore decided that Tjolaoaminoto would assume his seat, but the Bna1 decision was left to the 1918 SI congress. See De Indische Gkh, XL (1918), 994. The strong opposition to participation may explain why Tjolaoaminoto and his radical colleagues criticized the government so much in the first sessions of the Vollcsraad; it pained the Governor General and other Europeans who had hoped for constructive cooperation, but it also increased· the backing in their own organizations for participation. 68. For a discussion of the creation of the 8rst Volksraad and the elections for it, see Brouwer, De hooding, pp. 52-69. 69. See, for example, Sina, Hindia, Dec. 31, 1918, in IPO, no. l, 1919, p. 17. 70. Of the members of the 1918 ISDV executive, only Coster favored giving up the party's anti-Volksraad stand and accepting the invitation to attend the Radical Concentration's founding conference; his sole reason for urging this wu to persuade the Sarelcat Islam representation at that meeting to keep out of the pro~ alliance. The executive finally decided to send a telegram to Tjolaoamlnoto informing him that the ISDV would not attend the conference and urging him to send an SI representative as soon as possible to Surabaja to confer with the ISDV. Tjokroaminoto, however, did not respond; and so the executive sent Semaun to Batavia, where he made a final unsuccessful attempt to keep the CSI leader from committing his movement to the Concentration ( HVW, Feb. 15, 1919, p. 176). 71. See Cramer, Kolonfale Politiek, p. 53. 72. Semaoen, "Mijn standpunt" (My Standpoint), HVW, Jan. 16, 1920, pp. 106-107; Verslag zesde, p. 113; Hartogh, "Nog eens, Semaoen's standpunt" (Once Again, Semaun's Standpoint), HVW, Jan. 29, 1920, pp. 126-128. 73. HVW, Dec. 21, 1920, p. 37. 74. Baars, uOns buitengewoon congres" (Our ExtraordinaJy Congress), HVW, Dec. 21, 1920, pp. 37-38. 75. Baars, "Ons buitengewoon congres," p. 38. 76. Baars gave the following reasons for advocating Voilcsraad participation: (1) the Vollcsraad would provide an outlet for PKI propaganda; (2) its members enjoyed parliamentary Immunity; ( 3) the administration could be attacked directly by Volksraad members; ( 4) the PKI would be in a better position to prevent the "weaker" opposition parties from being enticed into collaboration with the government through the Vollcsraad. Against these arguments, he noted, the

382

Notes, pp. 72-73 PKI must also consider that ( 1 ) the party might concentrate too much of its efforts on parliamentary activity; ( 2) it would be necessary to accept nomination by the Governor General in order to get a seat. He did not bring up the Comintern in his discussion. See "Verslag van bet buitengewoon congres der P.K.I." (Report of the Extraordinary Congress of the PKI), HVW, Dec. 31, 1920, p. 47. 77. "Verslag van bet buitengewoon congres der P.K.I.," p. 47; see also the arguments by Bergsma (P. B.) in "Ons buitengewoon congres," p. 39. 78. "Verslag van het buitengewoon congres der P.K.1.," p. 47. For Semaun's comments on the function of the European and Indonesian party members, see Semaoen, "Mijn standpunt," p. 107. 79. The final vote recorded only the Bandung ddegate and Mrs. Sneevliet (Semarang) as opposed. "Verslag van het buitengewoon congres der P.K.I.," p. 47. 80. HVW, Feb. 5, 1921, p. 9. 81. Baars, Sowjet-Rimland in de practifk. Indie tot leering ( Soviet Russia in Practice. A Lesson for the Indies) (Rotterdam, 1928), p. 5; De Tribune, June 21, 1921, p. 1. 82. "De uitslag der Volksraadverlciezingen" (The Result of the Volksraad Elections), HVW, Feb. 5, 1921, p. 5; Blumberger, Communist, p. 26. Blumberger claims that the PKI candidate was withdrawn from the race for nomination, which would have been the logical step for the party to take at this point; however, from the account in Het Vrife Woord of the subsequent appointments to Volksraad seats, it appears that Baars had not been removed from the list. "Verblijdende duidelijlcheid" (Pleasing Clarity), HVW, Mar. 18, 1921, p. 101. 83. "De uitslag der Vollcsraadverlciezingen," p. 5. 84. The immediate grounds for Baars's expulsion, which was ordered on May 8, 1921, were two articles written for Het Vrlfe Woord, one protesting the arrest of his fellow PKI member Van Burink and the other discussing the German counterrevolution. By this time Baars had achieved quite a reputation as a Bolshevik agent; rumors were widely current that he was receiving silver, arms, blank passports, and a voluminous correspondence in Russian from the Soviet republic. See De Tribune, June 21, 1921, p. l; Baars, Sowfet-Rimland in de practl/k, p. 5; P. Eyquem, "Aux Indcs Neerlandaises: le syndicalisme musulman et la Ille Internationale," Revue du monde musulman, III, December 1922, p. 73. Baars announced that he would go to Soviet Russia to help build socialism there, and he departed with a speech in which he promised that "the waves of the world revolution will wash us hither again, just as the wave of world reaction has temporarily washed us away" ( De Tribune, July 12, 1921, p. l; a somewhat different version of this speech is quoted in Eyquem, "Aux Indes Neerlandaises," p. 73). He stayed in Russia until late 1927, most of which time he served in an "autonomous colony" of foreign engineers headed by the Dutch Communist S. J. Rutgers and dedicated to building up industry in the Kumetsk Basin. He returned to Holland with his opinion of Russia the reverse of what he had expected and wrote a series of newspaper articles on his experience, Sowfet-Rwsland in de practifk, which appeared in the Nleuwe Rotterdmruche Courant, Jan. 7, 8, 10, 11, and 12, 1928. The Indies government thereupon rescinded its ban on his presence in the colony in the hope that he would convey his new viewpoint to the Indonesians (Nleuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, May 6, 1929; Algemeen Handelsblad, Aug. 3, 1929). Baars, however, had given up the salvation of humanity as a bad job; he stayed in Holland and died an adherent of the fascist right. 85. "Verblijdende duidelijlcheid," p. 10.

383

Notes, pp. 73-77 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91.

"Verslag van bet buitengewoon congres der P.K.I.," p. 46. "Verslag van bet buitengewoon congres der P.K.I.," p. 47. "Verslag van het buitengewoon congres der P.K.I.," p. 47. "Verslag van het buitengewoon congres der P.K.I.," p. 47. "Verslag van bet buitengewoon congres der P .K.I.," p. 47. "Verslag van bet buitengewoon congres der P.K.I.," p. 48.

CHAPTER V 1. 11 Kongress, p. 140. 2. 11 Kongrus, pp. 195-196. 3. On his return from the Comintern congress, Dutch Communist party chairman Wijnlcoop announced: 'We for our part can disclose, on the basis of the various meetings devoted to the [colonial] question by the [Comintern] executive . . . that outside Moscow there will nowhere be established a center for propaganda by the Third International" Wijnlcoop, "De Oostersche lcwestie In de Exelcutive" (The Eastern Question in the Executive), De Tribune, Sept. 27, 1920, p. l; emphasis in the text. Wijnlcoop sat on the colonial commission of the Comintern congress together with Sneevliet; this remark possibly reflected some hostility between them, as they frequently disagreed on questions of policy. 4. VVS, p. 62. Sneevliet was preceded as Comintern representative in China by Voitinslcy, who had arrived in China in the spring of 1920. See Robert North, Mo,cow and the Chinese Commumm (Stanford, 1953), p. 54. 5. "Sneevliet over Rusland" (Soeevliet on Russia), HVW, Dec. 21, 1920, p. 44. This is a report of a farewell speech made to the Dutch transport workers' union. 6. Sneevliet traveled overland to Austria and then boarded the Lloyd Triestino ship Acquila for the journey to the Orient ( H. Sn., "Op reis naar bet Oosten" [On the Way to the East], HVW, July .20, 1921, p. 3; interview with Darsono, 1959). He traveled under an assumed name In order, he claimed, to avoid the humiliations the Indies Dutch passengers aboard ship would bestow on a notorious revolutionary. His movements were followed, however, by the Austrian police and by the British authorities along his route, who kept the Netherlands Indies government informed of his progress toward China. Bataviaasch Nlsuw.blad, June 1, 1924; H. Sn., "Op reis," pp. 3-4. 7. Interview with Darsono, 1959; H. Sn., "Op reis," p. 4. Baars and Sneevl.let celebrated their reunion and anival In China by sending a postcard from their Shanghai hotel to the comrades in the Netherlands; text in De Tribune, July 20, 1921, p. 2. 8. At the 1921 Cornintem congress one delegate charged that Sneevliet's bureau had never put itself in contact with the European Communist parties, that it played "only a platonic role" in the Far East, and that the Comintem should talce steps to correct the office's Inactivity. Protokolle des dritten Kongreuu der KommunLsttschen Internationale ( Protocols of the Third Congress of the Communist International) ( Hamburg, 1921), p. 1034; hereafter cited as III Kongress. The charges were leveled by a member of the French delegation who disagreed on the colonial question with the Comintem leaders, however, and there is no evidence of any official response to his complaint. 9. See Nym Wales, Red Dwl (Stanford, 1952), p. 39; Eudin and North, Soofet Russia, p. 139; Whiting, Soolet Policies, p . .237. Chen T'an-ch'iu does not mention Sneevliet in his account of the 6rst CCP congress and states that at the flrst congress the party had no organizational connections with the Comin-

384

Notes, p. 77 tern, which it elected to enter only at its second convention. Tschen Pan-tsiu, "Erinnerungen an den I. Parteitag der K.P. Chinas" (Reminiscences of the First Congress of the Oiinese Communist Party), Die Kommunlstische Internationale, Sept. 30, 1936, pp. ~904. Chang Kuo-t'ao, who attended the meeting, claimed that Sneevliet was not invited to the congress because he was disliked by Li Ta and Li Han-chi.in (manuscript autobiography, cited in C. Martin Wilbur, introduction to Ch'en Kung-po, The Communl8t Movement in China ( New York, 1960), p. 18; hereafter cited as Wilbur, Introduction. Other participants in the meeting recalled, however, that two foreigners were present, Sneevliet and a Russian; Chou Fu-hai and Tung Pi-wu, cited in Wilbur, Introduction, p. 18. Chou's account stated that the Russian was Voitinsky; Jean Chesneaux gives his name as Lizonskv in Le mouvement ouvrler chinois de 1919 d 1927 (The Chinese Labor Movemedt from 1919 to 1927) (Paris and The Hague, 1962), p. 258; he says Lizonsky participated in the first session of the meeting on Sneevliet's invitation, in order to present a report on the newborn Red International of Labor Unions. Ch'en Kung-po, "I and the Communist Party," in the collection Han Feng Chi, I, 206--2..3; De Locomotief, Feb. 21, 1922; Tamar Djaja, Trio, p. 22; Malaka, "Mijn verbanning," May 10, 1922; Malaka, Toendoek, pp. 18, 25-27, 32. Sneevliet himseH reported having conferred with Suba1cat on PKI affairs while in Canton; De Baanbreker, Feb. 15, 1930. Mala1ca also related that not long before his banishment in 1922 Najoan "vanished" from Indonesia and was reported variously in Shanghai and Bombay; it was rumored that his trip was somehow connected with his activity as leader of the dockworkers' union; Mala1ca, Toendoek, p. 87. 25. Sneevliet's disillusionment with the Comintem began, according to some of his former associates, while he was in China; VVS, p. 62. His unhappiness with certain aspects of Communist policy came out strongly in an article written

437

Notes, pp. 203-205 on the ill-fated Canton strike of February 1923; Maring, "Krovavyi epizod v istorii Kitaiskogo rabochego dvizheniia" ( A Bloody Episode in the History of the Chinese Labor Movement), Kommunuti6chukil Inumaukmal, (no. 26/27), 1923. A3 Whiting remarks, Soviet Policies, p. 101, the article displayed marked evidence of un-Communist "bourgeois sentimentality" in its condemnation of the violent and futile affair. Oddly enough, the Comintem journal published the report, although its editors noted they did not rompletely agree with it. 26. VVS, p. 62. 27. This is the report cited as Maring, Oekonomuche. 28. Sinar Hinma, May 2~June 3, 1922, in IPO, no. 23, 1922, pp. 377-378; Soeara Ra'fat, May 31, 1922, in IPO, no. 30, 1922, p. 144. 29. Sinar Hinditi, Nov. 11, 1922, and Boedi Oetomo, Nov. 2-16, 1922, in IPO, nos. 46 and 47, 1922, pp. 300, 331; Slnar Hlndla. July 4, 1923, and Soeara Ra'fat, July 16, 1923, in IPO, nos. 28 and 32, 1923, pp. 72, 369; De Induche Gid,, XLV, 1923, 831-833; Mededeelingen 1924, pp. 8-9; Begrooting 1925, pp. 198, 216. 30. Santin, 'The Situation in Indonesia," lnprecorr, Oct. 4, 1928, p. 1245 (coreport on the colonial revolutionary movement at the sixth Comintem rongress). For comment of Soeara Ra'fat on Aug. 1, 1923, see IPO, no. 35, 1923, pp. 41~ 420. 31. From the Fourth to the Fifth World Congress (London, 1924), p. 103. At the third Proflntem congress, which ran concurrently with the 1924 C-omintem meeting, it was announced that the Proflntem had succeeded in the "establishment of regular connections with Dutch and British India"; Me:hdunarodrwe profdvWienie 1923-1924gg., p. 6. 32. De Tribune, June 26 and 27, 1922. The foreign leaders present were listed as Cachin from France, MacManw from England, Pieclc from Germany, and Tan Malaka from Indonesia. 33. Malalca, DP I, p. 102. The work, Tan Malaka, Indoneziia I ee medo na probuzhdaemsia Vostoka ( Indonesia and Its Place in the Awakening East), was published by the Krasnaia Nov' (Red News) publishing house in 1924, and then, apparently considered worthy of wider distribution, was reissued by the government publisher ( Gosizdat) in 1925. It received very favorable reviews; see B. Puretskin, review in Pechat' i Revoliutsiia, no. 1, 1926, p. 214; and Kim, review in Nooyi Vostok, no. 10/11, 1925, pp. 325-326. In another account of his Soviet stay, Malaka remarked that he did not have much time for reading but was absorbed in studying Communism in action and in writing on Indonesian affairs for the Comintem; Malaka, Madllog: Materla&me, Dialektika, Logika (Madilog: Materialism, Dialectics, Logic) ( Djakarta. 1951), p. 14. 34. Bergsma in Franeker, the Netherlands, to Semaun in Semarang, Feb. 20, 1923. This is the omitted portion of the letter quoted on p. 240. 35. In a letter to "Be" (Baars' wife?) dated Feb. 2, 1923, Bergsma wrote: "At the end of December I returned from Moscow. Was there about a month . . . . Jep is staying in Mosrow for the time being. He's studying." Bergsma further remarked that he had neither money nor a job: ''The party in Holland does nothing for me," he complained, not even helping him pay for material sent to Jep in Moscow or to the party in Indonesia. The PKI, however, had sent some money to help him out. He had received a letter from Sneevliet the week before; "He was in Moscow. Still had the plan to come here. I don't know if it11 go through though." 36. Malaka, DP I, p. 104; Tan Malaka, Thesu (Bukit Tinggi, June 1946),

438

Notes, pp. 206-210 p. 39; and see Peringatan, p. 30. Kahin, Nationalism, p. 80, states, however, that Malaka claimed he was assigned the post of Comintern representative for South. east Asia at the Comintern congress of November 1922, effective at the beginning of 1923. 37. In addition to the evidence to be brought out in the course of this narrative, we have Semaun's support for Mala.Jca's claim (interview, 1959), although Semaun said he received his appoinbnent at the Pacific Transport Workers' Conference in 1924. In Gene Z. Hanrahan, The Communist Struggle in Malaya ( New York, 1956), p. 6, reference is made to a Japanese intelligence report from World War II stating that in 1925 Tan MalaJca was the chief Comintern representative in Southeast Asia; Tsutsui, Chijin, Mampo gunsei-ron ( Military Government in the Southern Regions) (Tokyo, February 1944), p. 335. Postcolonial PKI accounts tended to deny or minimize Malaka's claims to a role in the Comintern until the publication in 1961 of Pemberontakan November 1926, an account compiled by the party's Historical Institute. In this work MalaJca is described as having represented the PKI in the Comintern and having been a member of the secretariat of an ECCi Far Eastern Bureau, based in Shanghai, in which he represented the PKI ( p. 123). It does not appear that Malaka actually worked in Shanghai during this period, but Comintem China headquarters were for a time located in that city. Possibly the account confuses the Comintern office with the Red Eastern Labor Bureau in Canton ( see below). 38. Malaka, Them, p. 39; see also Kahin, Nationalism, p. 80, note 52. 39. Alimin, Analym (Jogjakarta, 1947), p. 14. 40. Semaun, interview, 1959. 41. Malaka said he also inquired of Sun the possibility of obtaining a Chinese passport; SWl replied that he could be of little service, since a Kuomintang pass would be worse than nothing as far as travel outside KMT territory was concerned. However, he suggested, if Tan Malaka were to contact the Seamen's Union in Hongkong, that organization might be able to help him to a more serviceable document MalaJca, DP I, pp. 105-107; and see Tamar Djaja, Pwalca Indonesia, p. 211; Perlngatan, pp. 30, 50. 42. Malaka, DP I, p. 114. 43. Malaka, DP I, p. 114. For an announcement of the establishment of the office, see TretU kongress Kramogo lntematsionala profsoiuwo 8-22 lulia 1924g. (Third Congress of the Red International of Labor Unions, July 8-22, 1924) (Moscow, 1924), p. 345, hereafter Ill Kongreu Kramogo; and Apl, Apr. 4, 1925. For references to MalaJca's position with this office, see Polffleke nota PKI, p. 4; Soerabaftuuch Handelsblad, Aug. 26, 1924. 44. L. Heller, "Die Paziflk-Konferenz der Transportarbeiter in Kanton" (The Pacific Conference of Transport Workers in Canton), RGI, July/August 1924, p. 54; and see Malaia entsiklopedUa po mezhdunarodnomu profdvlzheniiu, ool. 1808. 45. Malaka, DP I, pp. 116-119. 46. MalaJca, DP I, pp. 120-121. 47. Malalca, DP I, p. 120; the text of the request Is given in Apl, Jan. 3, 1925, p. l; see also Java Bode, Mar. 17, 1925. MalaJca wrote that he had been worlclng as a correspondent for Chinese and Philippine newspapers for about a year, but he refused to name the papers or the doctors he had consulted in Canton. He asked to go to Sukabumi or Salatlga or some other place on Java, saying that he had friends in those places who could nurse him. 48. De Tribune, Feb. 27, 1925.

439

Notes, pp. 210-211 49. The text of the government reply, dated Mar. 12, 1925, is reprinted In Api. Apr. 30, 192.5. See also Apl, Mar. 17, 192.5; Jaoa Bode, Apr. 24, 1925. The government said it would determine Tan Malalca's place of residence, that he would not be informed of it beforehand, but that In any case it would not be Java. 50. Text of MalaJca's letter in Apl, Apr. 30, 192.5; and Nieuwe Rotterdamsclu, Courant, June 3, 1925. 51. Malalca, DP I, pp. 121-123; Peringatan, p. 30. Malalca said that In Canton he had gotten to know a "Miss Carmen," the daughter of a former Philippine revolutionary, whose mother ran a hostel for Filipinos there. She had given him valuable tips on Philippine life and had taught him some Tagalog, which he pfclced up easily since it was related to Indonesian. He also got to know a guest of the hostel, Dr. Mariano Santos, who was on his way home from Europe and was to become vice-president of the University of Manila. Santos was a proponent of the unity of the Indonesian peoples; since Tan Mala1ca was already strongly drawn to Pan-lndonesianism, the two of them struck up a friendship, accordmg to Mala1ca, and maintained contact until World War II. 52. Semaun, Interview, 1959; "Pidato Semaun: Adjaran2 Tan Malalca Sewadjar dengan Adjaran MIIIX, Engels dan Lenin" ( Semaun's Speech: The Teachings of Tan Malaka Are in Accordance with the Teachings of Marx, Engels, and Lenin), In Perlngatan, p. 103. The Communist Party of the Philippines wu established in 1930; Robert Aura Smith, Philippine Freedom 1946-1958 (New Yorlc, 1958), p. 140, claims that Tan Malalca "paid a quiet visit" to the Philippines in 1929 and there got in touch with several Filipino Communist leaders who had been In Moscow and who subsequently founded the party. Malalca however, does not claim in his autobiography to have been in the country after 1927 or to have been connected with the founding of the group; since he was not reticent about describing his revolutionary accomplishments, his participation Is dubious. More probable ls the suggestion by Dapen Liang, The Development of PhJlipplne Political Parties ( Hong Kong, 1939), p. 256, that Malalca helped inspire moves that ended in the formation of the party by his contact with sympathetic Filipinos during his 1927 sojourn in the country. 53. Malalca, Them, p. 47; and Djamaluddin Tamin, interview, 1959. 54. AP', Mar. 16 and Apr. 7, 1925; Java 8a, which is taken from the title of its Russian version: S. Dingli, Bor'ba Krest'lanstoo v Indone%1i ( The Struggle of the Peasantry in Indonesia) ( Bibliotelca Krestintema, Moscow, n.d.). 104. Semaun, Rapotan, pp. 45-46. 105. Wongso, KUab Tani; Boekoe Boeat Kaoem Tani Indonesia (The Peasant's Guide; a Book for the Peasants of Indonesia) (Amsterdam, May 1925, no indication of publisher or printer). "Wongso" is almost certainly a pseudonym. My hest guess as to the author is Semaun, although if it is he, it is puzzling that he did not use his real name as in his other writings from abroad. The pamphlet is written in very simple Indonesian, almost market Malay, and its author assumes the role of a peasant tallcing to his fellows. 106. The demands were as follows: L Proprietary lands should be con8scated and distributed without charge to the peasants living OD them. b. The lands of the Sunan of Suralcarta and the Sultan of Jogjalcarta should also be con&scated and distributed among the peasants of those regions. c. Taxes OD the peasantry should be reduced to accord with the general wishes of the peasants. d. Unpaid labor for the authorities ( rodi, heerendienst) in the Outer Islands should be completely abolished, and not simply replaced with cash payments. e. The payment of premiums or rewards to village heads or other state officials involved in fl.xing and collecting taxes should be halted. f. Plantations should be sbictly forbidden to give rewards to village officials who influence the renting of lands to sugar factories or other capitalist enterprises. g. The state should prohibit the leasing of land by sugar fatcories for more than one cane-growing season, and the rent should be calculated anew each 1

season.

h. The peasants should be given a right to participate in the management and control of the irrigation systems, so that the plantations cannot arbitrarily dispose of the water supply. i Numerous rural banks should be established, providing cheap credit for the peasantry. j. Moneylenders who ask exorbitant interest rates should be punished. k. Schools and courses should be set up to spread literacy among peasants of both sexes. I. Sufficient schools for peasant children should be provided. m. Schools of agriculture should be established from primary to advanced levels.

n. Rural community centers should be set up to provide libraries, courses on agrarian and general affairs, art work, etc. o. The defense budget should be reduced; arms should be given to the workers and peasants in order that they may establish an independent nation, free of foreign and domestic capitalists. p. Villagers should be given the right to regulate local affairs by meetings in which all villagers eighteen years and over have the right to participate and vote. q. Village officials should be elected yearly by the town meetings and may be dismissed by them at any time. r. Representatives to district assemblies should be elected by all adult peas-

445

Notes, pp. 222-223 ants, workers, petty bourgeois, and intellectuals in a ratio of about 1 for 3,000 people. s. There should also be as.,embUes for every major ethnic group ( bangaa), elected by the district assemblies. t. The bangaa-level assemblies should elect members to an Indoueslan People's Assembly. u. All the above bodies should elect executives at their respective levels, and in such a manner as to ensure the inclusion of peasants in them. v. Assemblies above the village level should meet at least every six months to determine school arrangements, the government budget, foreign affairs, etc., and, having chosen people to state affairs, should disband, so that every delegate could return to the assembly that had elected him and report on what had been transacted. The decisions would thus be passed bade down to the people themselves, who would put them into practice. w. Local and regional assemblies should have the power to govern their individual districts, in accord with the general line provided by the Indonesian People's Assembly. x. The Indonesian People's Assembly should have the right to elect an Indonesian People's Government and to determine affairs affecting the country as a whole. Wongso, Kitab Tani, pp. 14-19. 107. Wongso, KUab Tani, p. 21. 108. Wongso, KUab Tani, p. 23. 109. Wongso, KUab Tani, pp. 24-25. 110. During the Madiun congress the CSI devoted a conference to the agrarian question, which decided to form a Sarebt Tani. Its program was to protect peasants from disadvantageous land-rent contracts made with plantations by the village heads or closed by the peasants themselves for ready cash. All landowners except village officials could belong to it; the members were to pay dues to the local branch of the association and not rent land or borrow money without consulting the local. The ST groups were to use their funds for crop loans, the purchase oE tools, seed, and livestock, and, if possible, to start cooperative enterprises; Partlf SI, Mar. 11-21, 1923, in IPO, no. 18, 1923, p. 223. Nothing seems to have come of this project, probably because of the general collapse of the SI. 111. "Manifest des Kongresses der Werktlitigen des Femen Ostens an die Volker des Femen Ostens," p. 144. 112. Heller, "The Trade Union Conference of the Pacific Ocean Countries and the Labour Movement in the Far East." p. 763; Mezhdunarodnoe profdol:henie 1923-1924gg., 2d ed., p. 108; Pro{mtem o te1.0Uutlilalch, pp. 105, 110; A. LozovsJcy, "Kuda idet razvitila mezhdunarodnogo profdvizheniia?" ( In What Direction Is the International Labor Movement Developing?), Kramyt Intemotsional Profsoiuzoo, February 1926, p. 144; IV sesrila T,entrafnogo, p. 85. 113. Politieke nota PKI, p. 4. 114. See G. Lai-Shou, "The International Union oE the Oppressed Peoples of the East," Inprecorr, Dec. 24, 1925, p. 1350. 'The organization is called the League of Oppressed Peoples in Eudin and North, Soviet Ruma, p. 280, and Association of Oppressed Peoples of Asia in Peo,u', China, Dec. 16, 1950, p. 14. The Chinese Communist leader Liao Chung-lcai was also instrumental in setting up the Union. Its constitution declared its purpose to be the "gathering together of all forces of the oppressed nationalities in order to carry through the liberating revolution"; Lai-Shou, 'The International Union," p. 1350. At 8rst the Union

446

Notes, pp. 223-226 concerned itself with China and the countries bordering it ( India, Indochina, and Korea ) , but at its second conference in 1925 it declared its intention to establish connections with the revolutionary movement in Japan and with nationalist organizations in India, the Philippines, Java, and Africa ( p. 1350). There is no evidence that the Union linked with the PKI in the Indies, though it may have established connections with the PKI group in Singapore. It ended in 1927, with the break between the Chinese Communists and the Kuomintang. 115. Api, Apr. 4, 1925, citing Tan Malaka's paper, The Dawn. 116. Semaun, interview, 1959. 117. One of the more esoteric projects for this purpose was to utilize a radio station owned by the Trade Unions Council of New South Wales to relay short-wave messages from Moscow and Canton to the revolutionaries in Southeast Asia; M. P., "Rabochee dvizhenie Avstralii i Tikhoolceanskaia lconferentsiia profsoiuzov" (The Workers Movement of Australia and the PaciJlc Conference of Labor Unions), Kra.myi lntematsional Profsoiu:wv, November 1926, p. 439. 118. Voitinsky, "Go-min'-dan i kompartiia Kitaia v bor'be s imperializmom" ( The Kuomintang and the Communist Party of China in the Struggle with Imperialism), Novyi Vostok, no. 6, 1924, p. xxvi. 119. Sneevliet, "Onze eerste 1 Mei-viering." p. 197. This was described as a gathering of the [seamen's?] union Kung Tan Hwee Koan, which had its headquarters in Shanghai and several hundred members in its Surabaja division. Apparently the ISDV leaders' appearance was not very successful; Sneevliet noted that language was a major stumbling block. 120. De lndische Gids, I, 1919, 642. According to this report, Semaun urged the Sarekat Islam to aslc the Indies Chinese organizations to inBuence the government in China to press for equality and freedom of political activity for all residents of the Indies. This may have been an appeal to the widespread feeling that the recent advances in the legal rights of Japanese and Chinese residents of the Indies were due largely to their identification with foreign states. The CSI was not particularly talcen with the idea, however: it rejected it, according to this report, six to three and one abstention. 121. Soeara Ra'fat, Aug. 10, 1922, in IPO, no. 32, 1920, p. 4. 122. Sinar Hindia, Sept. 13, 1921, in IPO, no. 40, 1922, pp. 11-12. 123. Gene D. Overstreet and Marshall Windmiller, Communilm in India (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1960), pp. 40-42. 124. At the May Day celebrations in Semarang, pictures of Lenin, Man, Liebknecht, Rosa Luxemburg, Trotsky, Sun Yat-sen, Semaun, and Tan MalaJca were displayed; IPO, no. 19, 1924, p. 233. The same constellation was shown at the June 1924 congress; Verslag 9de, p. 2. 125. Bataviaasch Handelsblad, July 21, 1924; Biflage Semarang. p. 12; Ovenicht 1924, p. 8; Politlek veralag 1926, p. 2; Nieuwe Rotterdamache Courant, Aug. 4, 1925; Bijlage 1925, pp. 14-15; Semaun, "Der intemationale lmperialismus und die Kommunistische Partei Indonesiens" ( International Imperialism and the Communist Party of Indonesia), Die Kommunlstische Internationale, 1925, Sonderheft, p. 58; Sina, Hindia, June 27, 28, and 30 and July 1, 1924, in IPO, no. 28, 1924; Api, Aug. 19-23, 1924, in IPO, no. 35, 1924, pp. 415-417; A.pi, Aug. 25-30, 1924, in IPO, no. 36, 1924. p. 457. The last-named source reports the formation of the China flood committee ( Comite Penjolcong Korban Bahaja Kebandjlran di Tjionglcok); its chairman and secretary were Indonesians and its treasurer an Indies Chinese. 126. Verslag 9de, p. 7. 127. Soeara Ra'fat, Aug. 20/30, 1924, in IPO, no. 37, 1924, p. 545.

447

Notes, pp. 227-229 128. Apl, Aug. 1~23. 1924, in IPO, no. 35, 1924, pp. 415-417. 129. Ooerzlchl 1924, p. 8; IPO, no. 37, 1924, pp. 503-506. 130. Apl, Mar. 30, Apr. 14 and 16, 1925; SI Tetap, Mar. 31, 1925, in IPO, no. 21, 1925, p. 341; Goenawan, Tiongkok dan Dr. Sun Yat-.Jen Marhoem (China and the Late Dr. Sun Yat-sen) (Bandung, 1925). 131. Apl, June 29,-27, June 2~July 4, July S-11, July 12-17, July 20-25, 1925, in IPO, nos. 27--11, 1925, pp. 3-6, 52-54, 99-100, 107, 109-110, 148, 202-203. The paper urged that contributions be sent to Sin Po and declared that money collected by PKI-aHillated organizations was being transfened to that newspaper, which was oriented toward the Indies-born Chinese and took a radically noncooperative stand toward the colonial regime. 132. See, for example, Sedio Toma (a Bud! Utomo organ), July 13, 1925, and Sri Dfofobofo (an SI paper), July 16, 1925, in IPO, no. 25, 1925, pp. 170-171,

189. 133. See, for example, the articles by Hadji Agus Salim in Hindla Bmw, July 18 and 22 and Sept. 10, 1925, in IPO, nos. 30 and 38, 1925, pp. 162, 165-

166, 548. 134. For remarks on the Kuomintang conspiratorial groups In the Indies during the 1920s, see Ong Eng Die, Chinen.en m Nederland8ch-lndui ( Chinese in the Netherlands Indies) (Assen, 1943), p. 257; J. Th. Moll, De Chlneezen In Nederlantuch-lndui (The Chinese in the Netherlands Indies) (Utrecht, 1928?), p. 31. 135. Apl, July 16, 1925, in IPO, no. 30, 1925, p. 147. 136. Semaun, "Der Internationale Imperialismus und die Kommunistische Partei Indonesiens," p. 58. See also the comments in Samin, MDer Aufstand auf Java und Sumatra (lndonesien)" (The Uprising in Java and Sumatra [Indonesia]), Die Kommunlstische Internationale, Apr. 12, 1927, p. 742. The latter is an article by Darsono, who used "Kijai Samin" as his Comintem name. 137. Soerabafasch Handelsblad, Aug. 8, 1925; Nleuwe Rotterdam.sche Courant, Oct. 5, 1925. The government continued to be concerned for the revolutionary Influence of the KMT after the destruction of the PKI: in early 1927 it distributed a memorandum to its officials in which it noted that insofar as Communist sympathies were found among Kuomintang supporters, Mthen the highest interests of our authority are naturally immediately involved, and propaganda for these principles-whether or not in connection with the native Communist movementmust be considered impermissible." Ooor:lcht 1926, Chapter V, p. 2; and see also pp. 12-13. The fear of Kuomintang revolutionary influence persisted even after the final ropture between the KMT and CCP; see Ong, Chinen.en in Neder'landsch-Indii!, pp. 257-258. 138. Thus Sin Po published an article on June 11, 1925, stating at some length that the only white men who had supported the Chinese struggle were the Reds, and especially the Russians. Apl reprinted and praised the essay, though it expressed the hope that Sin Po did not mean to include the socialists in the MRed" group. Api, June 15, 1925, in IPO, no. 26, 1925, pp. 555-557. 139. One of the principal PKI efforts during 1925 was to secure Chinese worlcers in its various unions. Pramudya Ananta Toer, Hoa Klau di lndonula (Overseas Chinese in Indonesia) (Djakarta, 1960), pp. 94-95, lists a number of PKI-sponsored unions in which Chinese were said to participate, but their numbers must have been small. Chinese were not noted by government reports as having participated to any extent in the PKI-sponsored Surabafa and Semarang labor protests of 1925. An Indies C1iinese, Tan Ping T'Jiat, was appointed to the executive of the SPPL (Seamen's and Dockers' Union), which was formed at

448

Notes, pp. 229-232 the end of 1924; this was probably because it was hoped Chinese sailors in the archipelago would enter it. "Communisme," p. 536, b; Toer, Hoa Kiau, p. 94. 140. Politieke nota PKI, pp. 7-8; Neutraliseering, p. 10; and see M. M., "De Partai Kommunis Indonesia, de stem van Moskou" ( The Communist Party of Indonesia, the Voice of Moscow), lntematlooole Spectator, May 16, 1951, p. 6. 141. Rene Onraet, Singapore: A PoUce Background (London, n.d.), pp. 106, 110-112. 142. Hanrahan, The Communist Struggle in Malaya (New York, 1956), p. 6, cites wartime Japanese military intelligence documents to the effect that Alimin, stopping in Singapore in the early spring of 1924 on his way to the Pan-Pacific Labor Conference [sic; Paciflc Transport Workers' Conference], seems to have carried out limited recruitment among radical elements there. He evidently made a full report on his activities to the Comintern at the conference, this account continues, for early in 1925 Tan Malalca persuaded C'CP leaders in Canton to infiltrate left-wing groups in Singapore; accordingly, a special CCP representative, reportedly named Fu Ta-ching, was sent to Malaya to effect a liaison with resident Chinese and Indonesian revolutionaries. If Alimin did take up contacts with Malayan radical~ in 1924, it seems more likely that he did it on his earlier visit ( where he reportedly met with Tan Malaka, who gave him the theses presented at the June 1924 PKI congress) than on the way to Canton: what we know of his schedule indicates that he spent very little time in Singapore on the second journey. Since it also appears that Tan Malaka spent some time in Singapore before the Canton conference and that he found Canton inconvenient as a base, we may well wonder whether he and not Alimin initiated the idea for activity in Malaya. Neither Malalca nor Alimin mention playing such a role in their autobiographies, and I have found no corroborating evidence for it, although ( given the patchy and unreliable nature of the available reports) this is not to say something of the sort might not have taken place. 143. Darsono, interviews with the author in 1959 and with George McT. Kahin in 1955. 144. Semaun, interviews, 1959. 145. Just when Subalcat arrived in Singapore is not certain. According to Darsono (interview with G. McT. Kahin, 1955), he had been planning to leave at the time of the December 1924 PKI congress, since proceedings for his internment were already under way. A possible clue is an article published in Api by "Exter" (Externeerd, Exiled?), datelined Johore and apparently written before May Day, which said that its writer had been in Pontianak, Borneo, had !'toyed there about a month, and had then traveled to the Riouw Islands, Singapore, and Johore. On the way he had med to recruit seamen for the SPPL but without much success; he also noted that although there were many workers in Singapore, it 1oolced as if they would be hard to organize. Apl, May 22, 1925. 146. Organisation et activlle de l'lntemationale Communil'te ( Organization and Activity of the Communist International) (Paris, n.d.), pp. 15-16. The parties oE the "semicolonialH lands, to which no specl8c metropolis could he assigned (China, Korea, Mongolia, Turkey, Persia, Egypt, Syria, and Palestine), were assigned to the eleventh section. This secretariat arrangement was distinct from that of the Comintem Eastern Section, which was subdivided into Near, Middle, and Far East groups and was concerned primarily with supplying the Comintem with information on the Communist movements in these areas and with overseeing the execution of ECCi decisions in the Asian eotmbies. See Berlcht der Erekutioe 15. Dezember 1922-15. Mai 1923, p. 9.

449

Notes, pp. 232-235 147. Jane Degras, ed., The Communist International 1919-1943, Document& (London, 1956), I, 327, quoting an ECCi resolution of Mar. 4, 1922; Losowslty, "Vor dem dritten Kongress der R.GJ." ( Before the Third Congress of the Pro&ntem), RGI, June 1924, p. 335; "Theses on Tactics," Inprecxm, Aug. 29, 1924, p. 652; "Resolution on the Question of the Relations of the Comintem with the International Peasants Council," Inprecorr, Sept. 5, 1924, p. 686. 148. Van Ravesteyn, De wording van het Communume In Nederland, 19071925, p. 140. 149. "Jaarvergadering lndische S.O.A.P.," p. 1174; Handellngen .2B Kamer, 1918-1919; pp. 2044-2045 (speech by Albarda). 150. HandeUngen .2B Kamer, 1921-1922, pp. 270-274. In the Volksraad the autonomy action leaders Van Hinloopen Labberton (NIVB), Cramer (ISOP), and Vreede (ISOP) had urged the adoption of Indonesie, the Dutch-language equivalent of Indonesia. Van Ravesteyn declared in the Dutch parliamentary debate that this was not going far enough; only the completely Indonesian version would do. The SOAP spokesman Albarda maintained, however, that lndonesla/lndonesie, like the earlier sobriquet Insulinde, was a "fad cl the moment" and that it was only necessary to remove the possessive Netherlands from the colony's title. 151. Van Ravesteyn, De wording, p. 202. 152. Van Ravesteyn, De wording, p. 202; HandeUngen .2B Kamer, 1918-1919, pp. 2022, 2027. Van Ravesteyn also called for a halt to further development of a commercial economy in the Indies, on the grounds that only through improving peasant agriculture could the population be fed. The SOAP, we will remember, favored the development of indigenously run industry in the colony, and the Socialist spokesman Albarda denounced the CPH position as reactionary and aimed at preserving Indonesia as a preindustrial area; Handelmgen .2B Kamer, 1918-1919, pp. 2047-2048. The Communists may have realized how unfavorably the argument could be construed, for they did not make a point of It again. 153. "Het tiende jaarcongres van de comm~he partij" ( The Tenth Annual Congress of the Communist Party), HVW, Aug. 23, 1919, p. 414-415; Van Ravesteyn, De wording, p. 202; vBr., "Sneevliet Slamatl" (Hurrah for Sneevlletl), HVW, Aug. 23, 1919, p. 409. The last article notes that the Indies Communists had expected the Dutch party to give Sneevliet an important post immediately on his return; they had been puzzled by its failure to do so, but apparently its leaders had wanted to wait until the party congress. It had also been proposed that Sneevliet join the editorial staff of De Tribune, the article continued; that position would probably have been more to Sneevliet's liking, but the CPH leadership seemed to prefer him in the role of propagandlstadministrator. 154. HVW, Feb. 21 and 28, 1920, pp. 161-163, 171-172. Van Ravesteyn appealed to the Minister of Colonies to review the case and introduced parliamentary motions to abolish extraordinary rights and abrogate the decision enemfng Sneevliet; the 6rst was defeated 19 to 36, the second 20 to 26. HVW, Jan. 10, 1920, p. 1. 155. HVW, Oct. 20, 1920, p. 1. 156. H. Roland Holst, "Het Amsterdamsch bureau der Communfstfsche Internationale" (The Amsterdam Bureau of the Commtmist International), HVW, Feb. 28, 1920, p. 170. 157. "De intemationale communistische conferentie te Amsterdam" (The International Communist Conference in Amsterdam), De Tribune, Mar. 20, 1920,

450

Notes, pp. 235-241 supplement, p. l; De Tribune, July 8, 1920; Theodore Draper, The Roots of American Communllm (New York, 1957), pp. 233-234. 158. De Tribune, Nov. 14, 16, and 18, 1921; Gerald Vanter, "The Congress of the Dutch Communist Party," lnprecorr, Dec. 13, 1921, p. 134. 159. The resolution as translated in Gerald Vanter, "Dutch Imperialism in the East Indies," lnprccorT, Jan. 6, 1922, p. 11; emphasis in the text. For the Dutch text, see De Tribune, Nov. 18, 1921. 160. Tan Malaka, Toendoek, pp. 32-33; ]a008che Courant, Aug. 16, 1923; 0. Tribune, June 22, 1922, supplement, p. 1. 161. Malaka, Toendoek, p. 98. 162. De Tribune, Apr. 29, May 2, 3, and 11, 1924; MalaJca, Toendoek, p. 98; Malaka, DP I, p. 92. 163. Malaka, Toendoek, p. 98. 164. Handelmgen !Je Kamer, 1921-1922, pp. 2756, 2762-2765, 2772. Wijnkoop also protested the persecution of the Temate PKI leaders, the action taken against the SI leaders Abdul Muis and Relcsodiputro as a result of the pawn• shop striJce, and the general restrictions on freedom of speech and press. His motion was defeated, 60 to 23. 165. De Trim.me, May 11, 1922 (from the announcement of Tan Malaka's candidacy). 166. For information on Malaka's campaign, see MalaJca, DP I, pp. 92-93; Malaka, Toendoek, pp. 98-99; De Tribune, June 22, 1922, supplement; Soeat0 Ra'fat, Sept. 1, 1922, in IPO, no. 39, 1922, p. 491; Gerard Vanter, "Die Situation in Holland" (The Situation in Holland), lnprekorT, Nov. 9, 1922, p. 1514. The CPH vote in the 1922 elections was WijnJcoop, 44,054; Van Ravesteyn, 1,709; Tan Mnlalca, 5,211; Knrit, 577; De Visser, 1,006; plus five minor candidates. 167. P. B., "Het eenheidsfront in lndonesie" (The United Front in Indonesia), De Tribune, Sept. 8, 1922. 168. P. B., "Het eenheidsfront in Indonesie," emphasis in the text. 169. Letter from Bergsma in FraneJcer, Holland, to Semaun in Semarang, Feb. 20, 1923. 170. Semaun, interview, 1959. 171. Sinor Hlndla, Sept. 27, 1923, in IPO, no. 41, 1923, p. 56. 172. Sinor Hindia, Sept. 26, 1923, in IPO, no. 41, 1923, p. 56; Sina, Hindia, Nov. 1, 1923, in IPO, no. 46, 1923, p. 305 (letter from Semaun); Goenawan, Semaoen, pp. 17-18. 173. On Dec. 16, 1924, the government claimed, Semaun wrote the PKI executive a letter describing his efforts among the students and opining that he seemed to be getting good results; Neutraliseering, p. 10. Semaun stated ( interview, 1959) that he found it easy to work among the students; this was not particularly because of their attraction to Communism, though a few did become party members, others sympathized strongly with the movement but did not join it, and still others were Marxists but not pro-Communist. Nationalist emotions were, he declared, the real drawing card. 174. "Communistische invloeden in bet Oosten" (Communist InBuences in the East), Gedenlcboek 1908-1923. lndonesische Vereenigmg (n.p., n.d.), pp. 118-

119. 175. See Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, July 27 and Sept. 3 and 23, 1930; Neutra&eering, p. 10; "Communisme," pp. 536, col. a; Java Bode, Nov. 21, 1924. 176. Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, Sept. 3, 1929 and June 30 and July 27, 1930; Rapport over de S.K.B.l. ( Repart on the SKBI) ( typescript repart by the

451

Notes, pp. 241-246 Indies socialist party [ISDP] to the Dutch socialist party, [SOAP], n.d. ), pp. 2, 7. Which of the universities is not apparent; according to Semaun (interview, 1959), it was the Lenin School, but the Nleuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, July 27, 1930, reporting the government's charges, refers to it as the "Eastern University," thus perhaps the KUTY. 177. From the original English as quoted in Neutralueering, p. 13. 178. Semaoen, Hoe het Holland.sche imperlali&me het btvlne mllUonem:iolk aanzet tot een mauamord op Europeanen m Indonesia, p. 30; announcement by the CPH executive following the text of a pamphlet written by Semaun shortJy after his arrival in Holland. 179. "Onze taak" (Our Task), Pandoe Merah, I, 1 [May, 1924], p. 1. 180. Induche Courant, Sept. 18, 1924. From the summaries of Pandoe Merah contents in the Indonesian press survey, this would seem a quite accurate remarlc. See IPO, no. 34, 1924, pp. 407-408; no. 37, 1924, p. 564; no. 46, 1924, p. 339. 181. Semaun, interview, 1959. The 6rst government action against the importation of Pandoe Merah and other Communist material from Holland was a raid on the incoming passenger ship Imulinde; the police conBscated a suitcase full of letters and publications brought in by a cabin boy who was the "consul" for the SPLI on that ship. Apl, Oct. 1 and 2, 1924, in IPO, no. 41, 1924, pp. 52--53. And see Java Bode, Sept 30, 1924. 182. "l>Jscussion of the Report of Comrade Zinoviev," Inprecorr, Mar. 10, 1926, p. 278. 183. Semaun and Darsono, interviews, 1959. 184. In May 1920 the SOP/CPH had boasted between 3,000 and 4,000 members. Wijn]coop, ''Ueber die holliindische kommunistische Bewegung" ( On the Dutch Communist Movement), in Berichts zum zweiten Kongreu de, Kommunlstuchen Intematlonale, p. 250. At the beginning of 1923 it was noted that membership had shrunk to 1,480; Berlcht de, E:rekutlve 15. Deurmbe, 1922-15, Mal 1923, p. 47. It was thus about the same size as the PKI in the mid-1920s. 185. See Lee,boek ooor de arbeldersbeweglng (Textbook for the Workers' Movement) (Amsterdam, 1953), p. 142 (a history of the Dutch Communist movement from the Stalinist viewpoint), and Otchet Ispolkoma Komlntema (apref 1925g.-4an00f'' 1926g.) (Report of the Executive Committee of the Comintem, April 192.>-January 1926) (Moscow/Leningrad, 1926), pp. 26-27. According to the latter source, 518 of the 1,526 members of the CPH had voted for the "rightist" (Wijn)coop-Van Ravesteyn) group when the party split. At the beginning of 1926, when the report was written, the dust was still settling from the feud, and the Communist Party was really functioning only in Am-

sterdam. 186. Semaun, interview, 1959; and see the text of the Sneevliet-Dekker letter below. Semaun's appointment had certain publicity advantages for Indonesia; it was noted enthusiastically, for example, in the Budi Utomo organ Sedlo Tomo, June 8, 1925, in IPO, no. 25, 1925, p. 534. 187. Lee,boek ooo, de 0Tbeider1bewegmg, pp. 111-112. 188. Semaun and Darsono, interviews, 1959. 189. From the Fourth to the Fifth World Congn,,, p. 71. 190. Inprecorr, July 23, 1924, p. 488. 191. "The V. World Congress of the Communist International; Continuation of the Discussion of the Report of the Executive," Inprecorr, July 24, 1924, pp. ~ l . Semaun's own account of his dispute with the CPH at the 8fth

452

Notes, pp. 246-258 Comlntem congress can be found in Semaun, Rapotoo, pp. 15-16. There he added that the European Communist parties should "begin now to really help our movement in the colonies and stop simply tallcing big while doing nothing." 192. "The V. World Congress of the C,ommunist International: Continuation of the Discussion of the Report of the Executive," p. 504. 193. "Discussion of the Report of Comrade Zinoviev," lnpreCOtT, Mar. 10, 1926, p. 278; lnprecorr, Mar. 13, 1926, p. 304; and see Boersner, BoWieollc.,, pp. 198-199. 194. Letter to Semaun from Aliarcham, dated July 20, 1924, appended to Semaun, Report to the Eastem Sections of the Comintem and Profintem ( typescript, dated Moscow, Nov. 15, 1924), hereafter cited as Eastern. Semaun translated the letter into English; I have made some grammatical changes for the sake of readability. 195. Semaun and Rustam Effendi, interviews, 1959. 196. At this juncture Semaun appended the letter by Aliarcham quoted above; presumably, therefore, Sneevliet had been instrumental in pushing the creation of a Dutch section of the PKI ( though it had first been proposed before his return to the Netherlands) and had done so at least in part to counter Semaun's position as the PKI's sole European representative. 197. Semaun, Eastern, pp. 1-5. The original of this report is in English; since Semaun's grammar in that language was rather shaky, I have made changes in the interest of readability while attempting to preserve his imagery. Emphasis is as in the original. Presumably the quarrel over printing materials on a nonCPH press referred to Pandoe Merah, which was put out by a private Amsterdam firm. 198. Neutraliseerlng, p. 13. 199. Polltieke nota PKI, p. 8; from the original English as quoted by this source. 200. Letter from Sneevliet and Dekker to Tan Malalca and Sugono, dated June 1925. The Comintem denunciation of Semaun's policies to which the letter refers Is in all likelihood the April 192.5 ECCi session, where the PKI leftist deviation and the party's relation to the Sarelcat Ralcjat were denounced. The articles in De Tribune are Semaun's "Brieven over den strijd in het Oosten" ( Letters on the Struggle in the East), in which he reported the ECCi decisions and, although admitting his error in placing the Sarekat Rakfat under the PKI, made the most of his role as chairman of the Indonesian party. 201. Polltieke nota PKI, p. 8. 202. Both Semaun and Darsono emphasized in interviews in 1959 that the Comintern bad little knowledge of or interest in the Indonesian movement

CHAPTER X 1. Biflage Semarang, p. 8; "Communisme," pp. 534, col. b and 535, col. a. 2. Sinor Hlndia, July 8-29, 1924, in lPO, no. 31, 1924, p. 230. It was also asked that requests be made in writing, apparently to avoid later denial that the propagandist had been sent on the branch's initiative. 3. Apl. Dec. 1~17, 1924, in lPO, no. 52, 1924, p. 603. 4. The PKI executive reported that from May through September 1924 it received a monthly average of /28 in entrance fees, f650 in contributions and dues from the party, f20 in contributions and dues from the SR, f35 from the sale of pamphlets and /210 from the press; expenses were about f800 a month.

453

Notes, pp. 258-259 This would indicate the executive was able to Jceep its head above water; but whereas the party had a ba1anoe of fl59.22 in May 1924, it reported ibeH fll7.49 in debt at the end of September; Soeanz &'fat, Oct. 10/20, 1924, In IPO, no. 50, 1924, p. 541. In contrast, the VSTP had reported that in the prestrilce month of December 1922 ft had received f2831.80 (in January 1923, /2757.08) in conbihutfons, /449.62 (f248.20) in entry fees, and had a total of /1797.15 in its press fund; Si Tetap, December, January/February 1923, in IPO, nos. 8 and 12, 1923, pp. 387 and 635. Semaun, although he was chairman of both the PKI and the VSTP, drew salmy only from the union, which paid him the Europeanscale wage of f250 a month. 5. For expressions of Foclc's attitude, see the government reply to Volksraad demands, following the expulsion of Tan Malalca and Bergsma, that all Communist and revolutionary socialist activity be prohibited; Handelingen Volkaraad, 1922, First Session, Bijlagen, Onderwerp l, Afd. I, Stulc 8, pp. S--9. See also its reply to demands that the Dutch PKI member G. van Munster be removed from his position as head of a government school; Onderwerp 1, Afd. V, Stulc

8, P· 2.

6. These laws, popularly called the hate-sowing articles ( haauaai-artilceLm), made liable to punishment those who made public "a writing or illustration, in which feellngs of hostility, hate, or contempt toward the Government of the Netherlands or of the Netherlands Indies are awakened or encouraged" ( Article 155) and those who "intentionally awaken or encourage feelings of hostility, hate, or contempt among or toward groups of the population of the Netherlands Indies" ( Article 156). Both laws were much objected to by the Indonesian opposition, particularJy the latter provision, which was not employed against Indies Dutch journalists, though the government itself complained of the derogatory manner in which the Dutch-language press tended to refer to the native population. In 1923 the Attorney General urged the addition of a temporary censorship in times of tension and the expansion of the hate-sowing articles with a prohibition on sowing class hatred, "which would provide a simple weapon, in the opinion of its proponent, especially against the Native press"; Kem, Overzlcht Rendentencor,feTentle, p. 37. 7. During the 1920s numerous complaints were addressed to the government in the Volksraad and Dutch parliament about preventive detention for political purposes; however, the governmt>Ilt was generally reluctant to furnish information on the subject. It did state In the 1923 Volksraad budget debate that at the end of 1921 there were 12,346 persons in preventive detention but that It could not specify which were held on political grounds; Harwlelfngen Volkaraad, 1922, First Session, Bijlagen, Ond. 1, Afd. II, StuJc 7, p. 3. It was similarly disinclined to furnish information on the number of prosecutions for breaches of the speech and press laws: in the 1927 parliamentary Indies budget debate the Minister of Colonies replied to long-standing demands for the number of such arrests for 1923 and 1924 by saying that he had not yet received word from the Indies on the subject; Begrooting 1927, p. 224. 8. After the arrests the party newspaper requested the PKI branches to be patient about replies from the executive, for the imprisonment of Aliarcham and Budisutjitro, who had charge of its correspondence, publications, and &nancial matters, had thrown its affairs into confusion; Sina, Hlndia, Oct. 22, 1923, in IPO, no. 43, 19-23, p. 149. Presumably this also affected foreign communications, since Aliarcham and Budisutjitro handled contact with Tan Malalca. 9. For a summary of the main measures taken during 1923-1924, see De

454

Notes, p. 259 lndlsche Guu, XLVII, 1925, 163-169; and further, XLV, 1923, 632-633, 736738; XLVII, 1925, 243-244, ~264. 354-357; Over:icht 1924, pp. 11-12; Begrooting 1924, pp. 181-182, 196; Begroottng 1925, pp. 197-198, 214-216; Api, July 9, 1925, in IPO, no. 29, 1925, pp. 103-105. The restrictions on travel and residence were chiefly aimed at preventing the spread of political activity from Java to the Outer Islands. The Attorney General had originally suggested the tightening of the 1918 travel regulation in November 1922, and the response was such that an even· more restrictive measure was drafted, giving to the Residents the power to keep persons out of their territory or to admit them only under special conditions. The Adviser for Native Affairs strongly opposed this, asserting that the Residents could not really be expected to know who was currently dangerous and who not among Javenese political leaders, especially the minor ones, and that as the Residents were inclined against taking chances this would mean "that the outer territories will be closed for political persons from Java. . . . In point of fact nothing remains of the 1918 regulation; as the General Secretariat's note states, a 'silent burial' is being prepared for it"; R. Kem, letter to the Governor General, dated Weltevreden, July 4, 1923, no. E/194, classified, p. 3. He pointed out that the Residents had expressed considerable satisfaction with recent security conditions in the Outer Islands, whereas in the years preceding the 1918 regulations the government had had to quell unrest by force of arms in Celebes (1911, 1913, 1914, 1915, 1916), Amboina (1911), Bali and Lombok (1911, 1914), Sumatra's West Coast (1912, 1915), Tapanuli ( 1912, 1914, 1916), West Borneo ( 1912, 1913, 1914, 1915), Ben1culen (1914), Temate ( 1914), Palembang (1915, 1916), Djambi (1916), South and East Borneo (1917) (p. 6). Why, he asked, should it be necessary to tighten regulations now when it had been thought possible to relax them then? (p. 6). His argument was unsuccessful for, as Kem himself certainly realized. what had changed since the 1918 regulations was the government's whole attitude toward the spreading of modem political concepts and organizations among the Indonesian population. 10. De Standaard, Sept. 12, 1923, quoted in Brouwer, De hooding, p. 92. The article was probably written by H. Colijn, the eminence grlse of Dutch colonial policy during De Graaff's ministry; he was chief political editor of De Standaard, the organ of the Anti-Revolutionary Party. 11. Minister of Colonies de GraafF, memorandum of reply to the lower house of parliament in the debate on the 1925 budget; Begroottng 1925, p. 214. To give an example of the ease with which deviations from the customary were ascribed to Communism, especially by Binnenlands Bestuur officials outside Java. A local religious controversy arose in Celebes. Its source appeared to be one Ibrahim Mulla, a trader in batl1cs and religious books from Makassar, who was a disciple of Sheik Ahmad Surkati, an Arab leader of the Al lrsjad religious school system in Java. The district contr6leur, on investigating the dispute, reported with alarm that "this Mulla is also a proponent of rather Communist tendencies In religion, maintaining for example that all men are equal, that powerful men must take no alms, and in short that he wishes more equality in religion. Where the Mohammedan religion in its old-fashioned form is a force opposing Communism, it would seem appropriate to view with reserve every effort and tendency toward modernization and democratization of the religion, which will indirectly further Communism even though it is aimed at another goal. I therefore thought it necessary to report this to Your Excellency, the more so because Hadji Ibrahim alias Guru Nandi and some others, who

455

Notes, pp. 259-260 seem to sympathim with the new line of Ibrahim Mulla, are said to belong to the PKI, although they let nothing be observed of this outwardly." Letter from H. T. Lanting. Contraleur of Sidenreng-Rappang. to the Assistant Resident of Pare-pare, dated Aug. 24, 1924, no. 24, classified, n.p. The Assistant Resident agreed with his concern and passed the report on to the Governor of Celebes, who pointed- out that Islamic modernism did not necessarily lead to Communism. Letters from the Assistant Resident of Pare-pare, De Wilde de Ligny, to the Governor of Celebes, Aug. 29, 1924, no. 24/classi6ed; from the Governor to the Adviser for Native Affairs, Kem, Sept. 8, 1924, DO. LXIV /classified; and from Kem to the Governor, Dec. 18, 1924, no. 1367. In this case more enlightened opinion won out, but it was not always so, nor were the liberals themselves always a force for tolerance. The Ethid had a very deep sense of personal involvement in the Indonesian movement They were likely to be most tolerant of opposition by Indonesians whose educational and cultural background was not European and who therefore could not be expected to appreciate fully their efforts on the population's behalf. They tended to be deeply aggrieved when members of the Western-educated elite, with whom they had had personal contact, did not evidence complete faith in them. Thus Kem opposed the proposed banishing of Hadji Misbach for his part In the 1919 antlcorvee movement, but urged it for Tjipto Mangun)rusumo; Tjipto, he argued, had been decorated for his service as a physician dnring the Malang plague, only to throw away both income and honor for the sake of irresponsible political activities. He had become, Kem asserted, sly, hardened, and careful not to lay himself open to legal prosecution; Kem, letters to the Governor General, Weltevreden, Aug. 18, 1921, DO. 166, classi&ed, pp. 6-7. Similarly, Kem was unenthusiastic about the internment of Hadji Batuah and Zainuddln but approved the January 1924 proposal by the Resident of Sumatra's West Coast to banish Abdul Muis from that area. He rejected the Resident's opinion that Muis had been responsible for the Toli-toli incident and the pawnshop workers' strike; moreover, Muis, the only anti-Communist political leader of any stahue in West Sumatra, was the chosen spokesman of the Karapatan Mlnangkabau, and Kem was currently arguing that only a strong, locally led anti-Communist movement would checlc the spread of PKI fn8uence In the area. However, he found Muis guilty of "dishonesty and bad faith" and a general laclc of franlcness and concluded that expulsion would teach him a good lesson; Kern, letter to the Governor General, dated Weltevreden, July 9, 1923, DO. E/203, classified, pp. 3-5. Something of the extent of this personal feeling was conveyed to me in an interview in 1960 with Professor G. F. Pljper, who had worked in the office of the Adviser for Native Affairs since the 1920s and later became Adviser for Islamic Affairs. Di.qcussing Hnzcu's career as Adviser, he remarked that Hazeu's associates had thought he placed too much trust in the Indonesians and that they considered it the most telling mark of ingratitude that Alimin, whom he had raised in his own home, became a Communist. I mentioned that I had visited Alimin some months before, and he had taken me about his house, showing me the pictures on the walls and lecturing me on their significance for him. They were all of Marx, Lenin, or Stalin except for the first, a photograph which hung above his desk and which showed him in the midst of the Hazeu family, for which he expressed great affection. Professor Pijper seemed most surprised and gratified to hear this and stated that he would tell the story to some of his acquaintances who still felt indignation at the Indonesian betrayal of Hazeu. 12. Sedlo Torno, Oct. 21-25, 1924, in IPO, no. 44, 1924, p. 223.

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Notes, pp. 260--263 13. Apf, Aug. 2l>-30, 1924, in IPO, no. 36, 1924, pp. 461-471; Soeara Ra'fat, Oct. 10/20, 1924, In IPO, no. 50, 1924, p. 541. 14. The government was considering prohibiting both public and closed Communist meetings, which would in effect have made the movement illegal; Ooenlcht 1924, p. 15. 15. Sinor Hindia, Mar. 3, 1924, in IPO, no. 16, 1924, p. 123. 16. Soeara Ra'fat, Sept. 10, 1924, in IPO, no. 39, pp. 65~. 17. Ouerucht 1924, p. 10. The Resident of Semarang reported a great Increase In the number of SR meetings in that region as a result of the new tactics: 1,003 gatherings were recorded for 1924. The chief subjects discussed were ( 1) the poverty of the people; ( 2) the aims of Communism; ( 3) the importance of joining the SR; ( 4) protests against the antistrike law and extraordinary rights; (5) the need for women to support their husbands in the anticapitalist struggle; (6) the importance of sending children to the SR schools; (7) homage to imprisoned and banished leaders and assurances that the struggle would continue in spite of persecution; ( 8) government efforts to Increase Indies defense expenditures; (9) the necessity of paying entrance fees and dues promptly; (IO) the coming Pacific war; ( 11) unequal justice for European and Indonesian inhabitants of the Indies. Biflage Semarang, pp. 2, 5. 18. Apf, Sept. 4 and 6, 15-20 and Oct. 13-18 and 24, 1924, In IPO, nos. 37, 39, 43, and 44, 1924, pp. 512-513, 615-619, 160, 203-204, 1924; and Soeara Ra'fat, Sept. 10, 1924, in IPO, no. 39, 1924, pp. 65~. 19. Ooenlcht 1924, p. 16. 20. Bi/lage Semarang, p. 11. In August, Darsono married the daughter of a retired Indonesian government official and thereafter spent much of his time at her parents' home in Sa1atign. 21. Over:dcht 1924, p. 16. 22. Apf, Dec. 16--17, 1924, in IPO, no. 52, 1924, p. 600; Mataram, Dec. 22, 1924; Aid.it, Sedfarah, p. 56. According to the last-named source, Alimin chaired the meeting. 23. Alimin, Rlwafat Hidup, p. 47. According to Semaun (interview, 1959), Aliarcham had opposed his concept of a mass revolutionary movement led by a small Communist elite-the idea behind the Sarekat Rakjat. DjamaJuddin Tamm ( interview, 1959) asserted that Aliarcham had spoken agaimt the SR to the party leadership at the June 1924 congress; at that time his views were rejected, for the other PKI leaders were still too enthusiastic over SR growth to consider it. Aliarcham is virtually the only PKI leader of the 1920s to be viewed favorably by both the present-day PKI and Murba ( Tan MaJaka faction) histories of the period; both groups claim him as their own martyr because of his refusal to compromise in any way with the authorities during his internment in spite of disastrously poor health. See Sudijono, P.K.1.-SlBAR Contra Tan Malaka, for the Murba view and Pemberontakan November 1928 for that of the present PKI. 24. This account of the executive recommendation is drawn from the descriptions In Apf, Dec. 16 and 17, 1924, In IPO, no. 52, 1924, pp. 600--604; Soeara Ra'fat, Dec. 17, 1924, in lPO, no. 52, 1924, pp. 604-607; Semaun, "Brieven," June IO and 11, 1925; "Communisme," pp. 535, col. a-536, col a; Schrielre, Political Section, pp. 105-106; Blumberger, Communist, pp. 45-46; Dingley, Peasants' Movement, p. 43; Cuber, "Natsional'no-osvoboditel'noe dvizhenie v Indonezil," 1933, pp. 192-193; Polltielce Nata PK.I, pp. 1-3; Afdit, Sedfarah, pp. 5657. 25. "The Governor General's Report of January 1927," pp. 4-5; "Com-

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Notes, pp. 263-269 munisme," p. 536, col. a; Rapport oan hel hoofd van hel Kantoor oan orb.id over de arbeidstoestanden In de metaalindustrle te Soerabafa ( Report of the Head of the Labor Office on Labor Conditions in the Surabaja Metal Industry) ( Netherlands Indies government, Weltevreden, 1926), p. 96, hereafter cited as Rapport oan het hoofd; "De Partai Kommunis Indonesia, de stem van Moslcou," (Tbe Partai Komunis Indonesia, the Voice of Moscow), Internationale Spectator, May 16, 1951, p. 6. 26. Interviews, 1959. ~- G. Voitinslcy, "First Conference of the Transport Workers of the PaciBc," lnpreco", Sept. 11, 1924, p. 705. For Heller's comment, see L. Heller, "Die Pazifilc-Konferenz," p. 53. 28. The conference manifesto, as quoted in Voitinslcy, "First Conference," pp. 705-706. 29. '"The Governor General's Report of January 1927," p. 4. 30. "The Governor General's Report of January 19~," p. 4. 31. G. Zinoviev, "The Fifth Congnm of the Communist International: Circu1ar of G. Zlnoviev to all the Sections of the Comintem," Inpreccm, Apr. 17, 1924, p. 231. Emphasis in the text. 32. Inpreco", July 25, 1924, pp. 518-519. 33. "Resolutions on the Report of the Executive Committee of the Communist International," Inpreco", Aug. 29, 1924, p. 646; see also "Theses on Tactics," lnpreco", Aug. 29, 1924, p. 652. 34. Fifth Congreu of the Communist International: Abridged Report of Meetfrags Held at Moscow June 17th to July 8th 1924 (London, n.d.), p. 188. 35. Fifth Congre8S . . . lntematlonal, p. 188. 36. According to his account, Semaun traveled to Moscow from Holland in May 1924: he returned to Am.c;terdam in the middle of August, after attending a Profintern-sponsored conference of Communist labor unions in Hamburg; Semaun, Rapotan, p. 15. At the Comintem meeting, he represented Java on the committee that discussed the national and colonial question; PlatU kongru, Kommunlstlcheskogo lntematslonala ( Fifth Congress of the Communist International) (Moscow, 1924), p. 252. According to the Comintem account of the 8fth congress, Semaun was not the ooly Indies representative. Tbe other delegate is referred to in the Comintem report as "Joseph.,; PlatU Kongress, pp. 252, 296. He was the former V.STP leader Harry Deklcer, who, we will remember, had left the Indies in 1922. Apparently he did not speak at the meeting. and he is not mentioned in other accounts, including Semaun's. 37. Semaun, Rapotan, pp. 30, 32. 38. Semaun, Rapotan, p. 32. The ECCi had asserted at the meeting that, "in addition to winning the support of the peasant masses and of the oppressed national minorities, the Executive Committee, in its instructions, always emphasiud the necessity for winning over the revolutionary movements for the emancipation of the colonial peoples and for all peoples of the East so as to maJce them the allies of the revolutionary proletariat in the capitalist countries"; "Resolutions on the Report of the Executive Committee of the Communist International," p. 642. 39. Semaun, Rapotan, p. 34. 40. Actually, the Comintem's original decision on the reorganization of the colonial parties had provided that the Intemational's Eastern Bureau and Organization Bureau were to cooperate in drafting model statutes for Asian parties. These statutes were first published by the Comintem on Jan. 29, 1925, and

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Notes, pp. 269-272 were presented to the ECCi for approval in its session of March and April, 1925. 41. Semaun, Rapatan, p. 38. Emphasis in the text. 42. Semaun, Rapatan, pp. 45-46. 43. Bataviaasch Nieuwablad, July 21, 1924. In August, Alimin was reported as giving an extensive description of his Canton bip to an SR meeting in Tasilcmalaja; Apl, Aug. 12-18, 1924, in IPO, no. 34, 1924, p. 370. 44. Pandoe Merah, no. 5, 1924, as reported in Politieke nota PKl, p. 2; Neutrallseering, p. 10; Blumbcrger, Communist, p. 56. Reports on the fifth congress had been published earlier in Pandoe Merah, no. 3, July 15, 1924, in IPO, no. 37, 1924, p. 564. In August 1924 the PKI theoretical journal published a translation of Zinoviev's speech to the congress, accompanied by an editorial asserting that the speech disproved opposition claims that the Communist position was unreasonably far to the left; Soeara Ra';at, July 30/ Aug. 10, 1924, in IPO, no. 35, 1924, p. 437. 45. It appeared in the Api issues of Feb. 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, and 19, 1925. 46. Petlr, Dec. 20, 1924, and Jan. 10, 1925, in IPO, no. 4, 1924, pp. 208-209. 47. Apl, Dec. 16 and 17, 1924, in lPO, no. 52, 1924, p. 602. 48. Dingley, Peasants' Movement, p. 43; Darsono, interview, 1959; Djamaluddin Tamin, interview, 1959; Rappart oon liet hoofd, p. 96; Semaun, "Brieven over den strijd in het Oosten," June 10, 1925. 49. Dingley, Peasants' Mooement, p. 43; Cuber, "Natsional'no-osvoboditel'noe dvizhenie v Indonezii," 1933, p. 193; Cuber, Indonezila, Sotslal'no-ekonomfchukie ocherl..i, pp. 314--315. 50. This account of the opposition arguments is derived from Api, Dec. 16 and 17, 1924, in IPO, no. 52, 1924, pp. 601-604; "Communisme," p. 536, col a; Semaun, "Brieven," June 10, 1925; Dingley, Peasants' Movemenf, p. 43; Cuber, "Natsional'no-osvoboditel'noe dvizhenie v Indonezii," 1933, p. 193; Rutgers, "De Indonesische nationale beweging," p. 159; Aidit, Sedfarah, pp. 56-57; Schrieke, "Political Section," pp. 105-106. 51. Politleke nota PKl, p. 24; Report of the Assistant Demang X Koto, Sutan Bandaharo, to the Demang First Class at Padang Pandjang ( typescript, dated Padang Pandjang, Feb. 15, 1925, pp. 3-4; hereafter Report of the Asst. Demang. According to the latter source, the December conference listed the requirements for graduation from SR to PKI membership as ( 1) payment of dues; ( 2) preparedness to act as a propagandist; ( 3) possession of a revolutionary spirit; ( 4) respect for party discipline; ( 5) extension of knowledge through attending open meetings and party courses and by reading PKI literature. 52. According to the Repart of the Asst. Demang, p. 4, it was decided to divide the PKI sections into four classes ba'ied on ~ize: the first-class sections, of which there were five (Surabaja, Batavia, Bandung, Semarang, and West Sumatra), were to aim at achieving 250 members each; the ten second-class divisions were to have 75 members apiece, twenty-five third-class sections were to have 25 members, and thirty fourth-class sections were to have 10 members each, for a total of 2,925 members. 53. Dingley, Peasants' Movement, p. 43. Criticisms of the PKI decision from the international Communist viewpoint continued even after the post-1927 Comintem turn to the left; see Cuber, "Natsional'no-osvoboditel'noe dvizhenie v Indonezii," 1933, pp. 192-193; Rutgers, "De Indonesische nationale beweging," pp. 159-160. 54. E. Cohee, untitled report to the Governor General, dated Mar. 13, 1923,

459

Notes, pp. 272-275 no. E. 61 ( typescript account of the March 1923 PKI/Red SI congress by the Acting Adviser for Native Affairs, classified), p. 5. According to DarS(>nO ( interview, 1959), Sardjono was not the flrst choice for the post: it was first proposed that Darsono become party chairman, but since he expected to be arrested and did not wish to hasten the evil hour, he declined; the second choice was Subalcat, and when he refused for similar reasons, the honor fell to Sardjono. For the election of the executive, see Api, Dec. 20, 1924, in IPO, no. 52, 1924, p. 607; Java Bode, Jan. 2, 1925; Report of the Atst. Demang, Feb. 15, 1925, p. 3. In addition to Sardjono, the new executive consisted of Budisutjitro (secretary), A. Winanta (treasurer), Aliarcham and Alimin (commissioners); executive members outside party headquarters were Mardjohan (Semarang), Abdu1karim ( Atjeh and East Sumatra), Sutan Said Ali (West Sumatra), S. H. Assor (Ternate), Suwamo ( Surakarta), Kusno (Bandung), Prawirosardjono ( Surabaja), and Sulcirno ( Tjilatjap). 55. Report of the Am. Demang, Feb. 15, 1925, p. 3; "Verslag S.I. Merah dan S.R. Semarang Tahoen 1924," p. 1. Soeara Ra'jat had required a subsidy of f50 a month from the party; PKI executive announcements would henceforth be conveyed by communique or through Api and the Batavia PKI paper N;ala. CORP had not been used by PKI units outside the Semarang area, and this may have prompted the party to drop it; Bi;lage Semarang, p. 5. Responsibility for publishing PKI literature was given to the Commission on Reading Materials ( Komisi Batjaan) of the Semarang PKI ( the VSTP press, the only one owned by the Communists, was in Semarang). 56. Report of the Asst. Demang, Feb. 15, 1925, pp. 3-4; Mataram, Dec. 22, 1924. SR dues were raised from f0.75 a year to f0.10 a month. A monthly basis may have been chosen to malce payment easier and to weed out those who did not show sufficient interest to pay regularly. 57. Text of the resolution, as given in Mataram, Dec. 22, 1924; see also Soeara Ra'/at, Dec. 17, Hr24, in IPO, no. 52, 1924, pp. 606-607. 58. Apl, Dec. 16, 1924, in IPO, no. 52, 1924, p. 600. 59. Soeara Ra'fat, Dec. 17, 1924, in IPO, no. 52, 1924, pp. 604-605. 60. PolUleke nota PKI, pp. 1-2; Rapport van het hoofd, p. 98; Report of the As.st. Demang, Feb. 15, 1925, p. 3; "Communisme," pp. 536, col. b and 952, col. a. It is possible this concept was patterned on the "Ten-Man Leagues," one of the illegal fonn.s of Kuomintang organization in the Indies. 61. B. F. 0. Schrielce, Notes on the Java Uprisings ( untitled manuscript. Schrielce Collection, University of Leiden), p. l; hereafter cited as Note•; referring to a statement made by the PKI leader Marsudi to the police in 1927. 62. Politlek oorslag over 1926 in het gewest Semarang (Political Report for 1926 in the Semarang Region) ( Netherlands Indies government, typescript, signed by the Resident of Semarang. dated February 1927), p. 12. 63. Api, Dec. 17, 1924, in IPO, no. 52, 1924, p. 604. 64. Nieuwe Rottemaffl8che Courant, Feb. 22, 1926 ( report by Mayor de Jongh to the Semarang town council), and June 29, 1926 (report by the government committee investigating the Surabaja strilces of 1925). 65. See "Communisme," p. 537, col. a; Bergsma, "The Sharpening of the Class War in Indonesia," Inpreco", Mar. 5, 1925, p. 261; ]aoa Bode, Jan. 19, 1925; Politleke nota PKI, pp. 4-5; Rapport van het hoofd, p. 98; Pemberontalcan Nooember 1926, p. 44. Fifteen hundred people were present at the meeting's one public session; they included representatives of the VSTP, PPPB, Inlandse Douanebond ( customs officials' union), Sarelcat Buruh Tjeta1c: ( printers' union),

460

Notes, pp. 275-277 Chauffeursbond Indonesia ( drivers' union), eleven branches of the several harbor worlcers' unions, the PKI, SR, and Madureezenbond (Madurese League). 66. Apl, Jan. 6, 1925, editorial. rn. Die Internationale Gewerkachaft,bewegung in den Jahren 1924-1927 (The International Trade Union Movement in the Years 1924-1927) (Berlin, n.d.), p. 'JRT; Tan Malaka, DP I, p. 112; Apl. Feb. 24, 1925; "Communisme," p. 537, col. a; Jaoa Bode, Jan. 19, 1925; Ooerzicht 1924, p. 6; Pemberontal:an Nooembet 1926, p. 44. 68. See Apl, Feb. 24 and 25, 1925. 69. Die Internationale Gewerkacha/tsbewegung in den Jahren 1924-1927, p. 2rn. 70. Rapport van het hoofd, p. 100; Politleke nota PKI, p. 6. 71. Apl, Feb. 24, 1925; Rapport van het hoofd, p. 96; PoUtieke nota PKI, pp. 4-5; AJdit, Sedfarah, pp. 58-59; Pemberontalcan November 1926, p. 44. The SPPL was formed from the Sarekat Kaum Buruh Pelabuhan ( Dockworlcers' Union) of Surabaja, the Perserlkatan Buruh Pelabuhan dan Lautan (PBPL, Harbor and Seamen's ~tion) of Batavia, and the Serllagu (Serikat Laut dan Gudang. Seamen's and Dockers' Union) of Semarang. The last-named 1mion had been formed in Augwt 1924 after a strike by harbor coolies in Semarang; Apf, Aug. 9 and 12-18, 1924, in IPO, nos. 33 and 34, 1924, pp. 324-325, 369-370. The first SPPL executive included R. M. Gondojuwono (chairman), Tan Ping Tjlat, and Sundah; "Communisme," p. 536, col. b. Gondojuwono was arrested almost immediately after his appointment to the chairmanship of the new union; Bergsma, "The Sharpening of the Class War in Indonesia," p. 261. Sjamsuddin then became chairman; Ooerzlcht van den PolUleken toestand ter Sumatra', We,tkwt aanslultend op het ooerzicht ddD. 6 April 1927 (Survey of the Political Situation on Sumatra's West Coast, Continuing the Survey Dated Apr. 6, 1927) (Netherlands Indies government, mimeographed, signed by the head of the regional police and the Resident of Sumatra's West Coast, dated Padang, May 10, 1927), p. 7, hereafter cited as Over.::icht SWK. 72. For the Serilagu appeal, see Apf, Sept. 22-30, 1924; for the declaration of the PKBP, see Api, Oct. 1-4, 1924, in IPO, nos. 40-41, 1924, pp. 14, 53--54. A description of the SPPL organization and the statutes adopted at its founding congress of Dec. 20, 1924, is given in Dfankar, January 1925, in IPO, no. 9, 1925, pp. 442-443. It was stated in this account that the union faced considerable organizational difficulties because its executive members were located in widely separated cities; it was also having financial troubles because member units were not paying their dues. Although the headquarters of the SPPL were ofBclally in Surabaja, its journal was printed in Semarang, which seems to have been its effective center during the first haH of 1925. 73. Apf, Feb. 24, 1925. 74. At the beginning of 1923 the PKI began to organize the sugar workers In the Surabaja and Kediri areas, but it ran into too much resistance from the authorities and plantation owners to have much success; Musso, Prlnuditel'nyl trud v Indone:ii (Forced Labor in Indonesia) (Moscow, 1929), p. 17. In 1924 the party promoted an Association for Workers on Sugar Estates (Perkumpulan Untulc Kaum-Buruh Onderneming Gula), which, however, proved very weak; Ovenicht 1924, p. 31. In the new effort among the sugar worlcen, the name of the union was changed to Sarekat Buruh Gula (SBG, Sugar Workers' Union); Mu.~so was one of its driving spirits. At the beginning of 1924 the party had also founded the Sarekat Kaum Buruh Ondernemlng ( SKBO, Plantation Workers'

461

Notes, pp. 277-282 Union), to organize workers on all types of plantations except the sugar estates. The two unions were kept separate because the sugar plantations were in low, thickly settled parts of the rountry and the other estates were generally in hilly, sparsely populated areas. Withm a year, according to Musso, the SKBO claimed 12,000 members in West Java, but in East and Central Java government pressure was too great for the organizers. When the PKI was made illegal in early 1926, the SKBO leaders were thrown in jail and the union came to an end; Musso, rrtnudltefnyi trod, pp. 17-19. 75. Apl, June 8, 1925; Blflage 1925, pp. 7-8. Government reaction to the sbiJce wave that broke out just after the union was established prevented it from gaining much substance, and it is doubtful if it actually took steps to establish international ties. 76. Semaun, letter of Dec. 25, 1924, quoted in Neutralheerlng, p. 10. 77. Neutralheerlng, p. 10. · 78. Apl, Feb. 27, 1925. Api began publishing "Soeloeh Communisme" on Feb. 24; the articles were later issued by the party in Semarang as a pamphlet, under that title. 79. Eucutlf Elargl de l'lnternationale Communlste. Compte rendu analytique de la 868rion du 21 mars au 8 avrll 1925 (Enlarged Executive of the Communist International: Abridged Report of the Session of Mar. 21 to Apr. 6, 1925) ( Paris, 1925), p. 270, hereafter cited as Eucutlf. The PKI history Pemberontakan November 1926, p. 123, says Tan Malaka made a pro-Trotskyist speech at this meeting. He did not attend; probably this is an erroneous reference to Semaun's report to the session, which was said to have been criticized. 80. Executlf, p. 286, and see also Bukharin's speech on the peasant question, pp. 133-152. Bolmeoolng the Communist International ( London, n.d.), pp. 7173, 157-159, 169-180. 81. Semaun, "Brieven," June 10, 1925. At the ECCi meeting, Semaun sat on the Peasant Commission, the Trade Union Unity Commission, the Dutch Commission, and the Colonial Commission; Inpreco", June 4, 1925, pp. 350-351; Bolshevislng the Communl&t International, pp. 12, 14, 15. 82. ECCi letter, quoted in Neutraliseerlng, p. 12; emphasis in the text. The letter, addressed to the PKI on May 4, 1925, is partially reproduced in the original English in the above-cited government report; the full text in Dutch is contained in Semaun, "Brieven over den strijd in bet Oosten," June 19, 1925. For other references to the ECCi opinion, see Inpreco", Apr. 28, 1925, p. 513; Dingley, Peasants' Movement, p. 58; Cuber, "Natsional'no-osvoboditel'noe dvizhenie v Indonezii," 1933, p. 193; Rutgers, "De lndonesische nationale beweging," pp. 159-160; Aidit, Sedjarah, p. 57. 83. Semaun, "Brieven," June 12, 1925; emphasis in the text. 84. Semaun, "Brieven," June 17 and 18, 1925. 85. Neutrallseering, p. 12; Politieke nota PKI, p. 18; Schrielce, "Political Section," p. 138. The original letter was found by the police in a raid on PKI headquarters late in 1926. The date ( a month after ECCi session had concluded) leads one to think that discussion of the Indonesian question continued after the regular plenary sessions had closed. We know, for example, that Semaun remained in Moscow for over a month after the ECCi meeting had officially ended, for he attended a Comintem Information Conference there on May 6, 1925; Inprecc", May 6, 1925, p. 532. During his absence from Holland, Bergsma was in charge of the PKI office there; Api, Feb. 24, 1925. 86. ECCi letter of May 4, 1925, as quoted in Neutralueering, pp. 12, 64. The program was also given in Semaun's report.

462

Notes, pp. 282-287 flt. Dingley, Peasants' Movement, p. 44. 88. Stalin, Mam.rm and the National and Colonial Quutlon (London, 1936), p. 220; from a speech to the Communist University of the Toilers of the East, May 8, 1925. 89. Abdul Muis, series of articles in Kaoem Kita, Oct. 27-Nov. 10, 1924, in IPO, no. 46, 1924, pp. 307-308. Muis' suggestions brought no immediate official response from the PKI, but they seem to have been favorably received by some party leaders; see, for example, the enthusiastic comments by A. C. Salhn in Haliltntar Hindia, Nov. 26, 1924, in IPO, no. 50, 1924, pp. 543-544. 90. Kemadjoean Hindu,, Feb. 12, 1925, in IPO, no. 10, 1925, p. 471. 91. Apl, Mar. 30, 1925; emphasis in the text. See further Kemad;oean Hindia, Mar. 10, 1925, and Soeara Perdamaian, Mar. 12, 1925 ( reply of the CSI), in IPO, no. 12, 1925, pp. 569, Stn--588; and Sutardjo, "Tingkat Baroe dari Pergeralcan Kebangsa'an" (A New Step by the Nationalist Movement), Api, Mar. 12, 1925. 92. Darsono, "Salim Pendoesta" ( Salim the Liar), Api, May 13, 1925. 93. Api, Mar. 30, 1925. 94. For example, on Nov. 3, 1925, the PKI executive wrote the East Java party leader Sugiman that "some sections [in your book]-in the light of the tactics to be adopted by our Party vis-d-vis the Indonesian nationalists, such as the B.U. and also the former N.I.P.. [Sarekat Hindia] at the present timecreate a rather spiteful impression; we are therefore changing the passages, so as not to give offense to the nationalists whom we have hopes of winning over to cooperation with us"; quoted in Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 142, note 97. The publication in question was probably Sugiman, Bankroetn;a Partal Kebang,aan di Hindoestan ( The Bankruptcy of the National Party in Hindustan) ( Malang, 1926). It denounced the Indian National Congress and affirmed that only Communists were consistently anticolonial. 95. Apl, Jan. 2, 1926, reviewing events in 1925. Emphasis in the text. 96. P. Bergsma, "The Revolutionary Movement in Java," Inpreco", Oct. 8, 1925, p. 1088. Semaun declared that "our party is working for the creation of a national anti-imperialist bloc, and Muhammadijah, the Sarekat Ambon, and other national organizations are CUITCntly making progress in the revolutionizing of their spirit and the number of their members, though not so quickly as our party and the Sarekat Rakjat organization, which is under the influence of the Communists." Semaun, "Der Internationale Imperialismus und die Kommunistische Partei Indonesiens," p. 59. 91. TilHgkeitsbericht der Erekutlve der Kommunistischen Internationale 19251926 (Report of the Executive of the Communist International 1925-1926) (Hamburg. 1926), p. 362; "Resolution on the Chinese Question," Inpreco", May 13, 1926, p. 649; "The World Economic and Political Situation," lnpreco", Jan. 22, 1926, p. 104; Semaun, '"Der Internationale lmperinlismus und die Kommunistische Partei Indonesiens," p. 58; IV sessila Tsentrarnogo sooota Krasnogo lnternatsionala profsieuzoo, p. 4; Bergsma, "Progress of the Revolutionary Movement in Indonesia," Inpreco", Dec. 31, 1925, p. 1366; Bergsma, "Labour Sbuggles in the East Indies," Inpreco", Oct. 15, 1925, p. 1106; Darsono, "Die Lage der Volksbewegung Indonesiens" (The Situation of the Indonesian Popular Movement), Die Kommunistische Internationale, Nov. 9, 1926, pp. 415, 419. 98. Aidit, Sedfarah, p. 57. 99. Semaun, "Der intemationale Imperialismus und die Kommunistische Partel Indonesiens," p. 60. 100. "Discussion of the Report of Comrade Zinovicv," Inpreco", Mar. 10, 1926, p. 278.

463

Notes, pp. 287-292 101. Scmaun, "Professional'noe dvfzhenle v Indonezil" (The Trade Unfon Movement in Indonesia), Kramyf lntffllatllonal Prof,oluZOfJ, March 1926, p. 356. Semaun also urged at the Profintern meeting that the PICI form cells via labor unions in as many enterprises as possible; it should unite lb unions in a Central Committee of Trade Unions and should put forward slogans for the Indonesian independence movement such as °'Indonesia for the Indonesians," "A Federal Government Structure," and •A Central People's Assembly..; pp. 350, 356. 102. She8toi msshirenyl plenum upollcoma Komlnlema (17 feorall,a-15 mana 1926g.) ( Sixth Enlarged Plenum of the Executive Omunittee of the Comintmn, Feb. 17-Mar. 15, 1926) (Moscow/Leningrad, 1927), p. 7. Other Asian members of the ECCi presidium at this time were listed as Sen Katayama (Japan), Roy (India), and Su-fan (China). 103. Tiitigkellsberlcht de, Exekutive der Kommunls&chen Internationale 19251926, pp. 362-364. 104. Schrielce, "Political Section," p. 145.

CHAPTER XI 1. Soerabaftueh Handelablad, Aug. 10, 1925; according to this account, the system was used principally among urban workers. 2. Blflage algemeen verslag: Politlek ooerzlcht 1925 ( Appendi% to the General Report: Polltical Survey 1925) (Typescript, signed by the Resident of Semarang. dated Semarang. February 1926), pp. 1-3, hereafter cited as Blflage 1925; Nleuwe llotterdamsche Courant, Sept. 8, 1925; Polt&k Vnalag 1926, pp. 2-5. During 1925 only one open meeting was held by the PKI and SR in Semarang. as against two executive and nineteen membership meetings of the PKI and four executive and fifty-five membership meetings of the SR. In the regency of Solatiga 188 meetings were held in all, in Kudus 140, and in Pati 33-an Illustration of the tactic of holding numerous small gatherings; Blflage 1925, p. 2, and see De Telegraaf, Jan. l, 1926. In Bandung alone, the PKI held 50 separate meetings on Jan. 1, 1925; Api, Jan. 2, 1925. 3. Rapport oon het hoofd, p. 99, footnote l; Ooerzicht Pall, p. 15, outlinmg a meeting of the Semarang PKI in October 1925, at which the reorganization was set down for that area; and De Telegraaf, Feb. l, 1926. In actual practice there seems to have been no universally adhered-to system, however; in early 1926 the organizational pattern reported to be In general use in the Semarang region had each party subsection run by five members ( chairman, secretary, treasurer, and two commissioners); these were aided by twelve directors, who were given the ranlc of sergeant. Under each of these directors was a cadre, and each cadre had charge of ten ordinary members, or soldiers; Polltiek verslag 1926,

P· 8.

4. Politieke nota PKl, p. 7. 5. For Sanusi's trip to Canton, see Apl, Mar. 13 and Apr. 7, 1925; Jaoa Bode, Apr. 24, 1925. Djamaluddin Tamin (interview, 1959) claimed AUmin visited Tan Malaka in early 1925 and was Informed of his ideas on party strategy; Malalca mentions in his autobiography that Allmin visited him twice while In exile before his journey to the Philippines In 1925; DP I, p. 143. Malalca's pamphlet, Naar de 'Republiek-Indonula' (Toward the Indonesian Republlc), was written at the end of 1924 and was first published In Canton In April 1925; It ls further described below.

464

Notes, pp. 292-296 6. Apl, Apr. 27, 28, and 29, 1925. 1. Blflage 1925, p. 3. 8. Apl, July 12-17, 1925, In IPO, no. 30, 1925, pp. 154-155; Mowo, Dec. 7, 1925, in IPO, no. 51, 1925, p. 614; De lndische Gid.,, XLVII ( 1926), 456-457; PoUtiek Venlag 1926, p. 16. According to the last account, the OPI, with headquarters in Semarang, was a pet project of Darsono's. Its headquarters and leaders' homes were raided in early 1926, and it thereupon expired. 9. Overzlcht 1924, p. 10, describing the situation at the end of 1924. 10. See "Nadere beantwoording van bij de behandeling der begrooting en der suppletoire begrooting van Nederlandsch-Indie voor bet dienstjaar 1926 gestelde vragen" ( Further Reply to Questions Submitted During the Discussion of the Budget and Supplementary Budget of the Netherlands Indies for 1926), in Begrooting 1927, p. 244, hereafter cited as Nadere 1927. The case was that of Woro Ati, who had made the statement at a public· SR meeting in 1925; she was sentenced by the Malang district court in January 1926. 11. Schrielce, "Communism on the West Coast of Sumatra." pp. 14S-147. Such pressure was considered to have been used with success in Atjeh, the Lampung districts, and Palembang, however; Verslag 1926, pp. 11, 14-15; Verslag 1927, p. 21. 12. De CraaH, memorandum of reply to parliament in the debate on the 1925 Indies budget; Begrooting 1925, p. 214. 13. Apl, Sept. 1, 2, and 3, 1924, in IPO, no. 37, 1924, pp. 508--510, 511-512; Apl. Feb. 16, 1925; SoerabafMch Handelsblad, Sept. 2, 1924; Ooerzicht 1924, pp. 8, 16. 14. R. Kem, Oprichting oon contra-vereenlgingen tegen het communLmie ( Establishment of Counterassociations Against Communism) ( typescript report by the Adviser for Native AHairs to the Governor General, dated Weltevreden, June 15, 1925, no. G/189, classified), pp. 1-3. 15. Kem, Oprichting oan contra-ooreenigingen, p. 7. The turning In of cards had a particular force, as Kem notes, because of the great weight Indonesians gave to symbols. To hand In a card was regarded as a true sign that its owner had brolcen with Communism, and those who did so often became enthusiastically and violently anti-PK!. 16. Apl reported roaming bands in the Priangan who asked people whether they were "White" or "Red" and beat those who answered "Red"; Feb. 20-23, Mar. 2-7, 1925, in IPO, nos. 9 and 11, pp. 412, 503. The stated goals of the Sarelcat Hidjau were to cherish and protect religion, prince, government, teachers, father, and race; Soerapati, June 8, 1925, in lPO, no. 28, 1925, p. 385. The purpose of Anti-Communisme was said to have been to Sght Commun.Ism, promote religion, and keep an eye on Indonesian political movements in general; Hindia Baroe, Feb. 15, 1925, in IPO, no. 9, 1925, p. 420. The Kaum Pamitran, which was centered in Bandjaran, had been founded several years before as an amateur theatrical group, with the broader purpose of strengthening ties between the pn;a;i and the people; in 1924 it turned into an anti-PKI mutual aid association in response to local SR activity. The Communists did not accuse the SI of being involved in any of the Sarelcat-Hidjau type of organization. 17. Kem, Oprichting van conlra-ooreenlglngen, p. 4. Two other reports in the Kem collection deny vehemently any government connection with the Sarelcat Hidjau groups, which are described as purely spontaneous associations of respectable and orderly Indonesians defending themselves against Sarelcat Islam and SR aggressiveness; letter from Attorney General Wolterbeek Muller to the

465

Notes, pp. 296-299 Governor General, dated Weltevrcden, May 28, 1925, no. 1978 A.P., classified, and report from Resident of Priangan Eijken to the Attorney General. dated Bandung, May 19, 1925, W. 180/25/Z.G., classified. Apparently these were composed to mollify Volksraad deputies who had charged the government with collusion in Sarekat Hidjau violence and demanded an inquiry. For Salim's articles against the Sarekat Hidjau, see Hindia Baroe, Feb. 19 and 26, 1925, in lPO, nos. 9 and 10, 1925, pp. 416--418, 463-464, and in Kaoem Kita, Feb. 9-19, 1925, in ]PO, no. 9, 1925, p. 420. For other statements condemning the Sarekat Hidjau and similar organizations in the non-Communist opposition press, see Hfndia Baroe, Feb. 15 and 18, 1925, Balatentara lJam, Feb. 14-21, 1925, and Panggoegah, Feb. 18, 1925, in IPO, no. 9, 1925, pp. 418, 420, 431, 434-435; Sn Dfofobofo, Feb. 14, 1925, in IPO, no. 10, 1925, p. 484; Danna Kondo, Mar. 4-7, 1925, Hlndia Baroe, Mar. 5-11, 1925, Kaoem Kita, Mar. 2-9, 1925, Kemadfoean Hlndia, Feb. 28, 1925, in IPO, no. 11, 1925, pp. 508--509, 511-514, 516--519, 522; Hindla Baroe, Mar. 12-18, 1925, Kaoem KUa, Mar. 11-16, 1925, Kemadjoean Hlndla, Mar. 9-14, 1925, Sedio Oetomo, Mar. 10, 1925, in IPO, no. 12, 1925, pp. 560-563, 567, 574-575. 18. Hindu, Baroe, Mar. 5-11, 12-18, Kaoem Moeda, Mar. 3, Kaoem Kita, Mar. 11-16, 1925, in IPO, nos. 11 and 12, 1925, pp. 511-514, 519, 560-568. 19. The first report of the League, in an enthusiastic letter by "Meroh," was published on the first page of Api, Mar. 25, 1925. However, the editors commented that the writer should investigate more closely before he committed himsell to the organization. It seemed to be composed of heterogeneous class elements ( the letter had mentioned not only PKI followers but also members of the Chinese, Arabs, and Dutch [Eurasian?] minority groups who felt themselves threatened by the Sarekat Hidjau), and the party therefore must warn against It. See also Api, Mar. 31, 1925. One of the government reports on the Sarekat Hidjau refers to the League as having both SR and SI members; Eijken to the Attorney General, p. 3. Dingley, Peasants' l\looement, p. 44, speaks of the leagues as endorsed by the party, however. According to "The Governor General's Report," p. 10, they were recruited from strong-arm elements and existed in Batavia, Pekalongan, Jogjakarta, Surakarta, Kediri, and Tjiandur In the Prlangan. 20. Sarekat-Islam Congres (3e natlonaal congre.,), pp. 6-7, describes the discussion of this point at the 1918 SI congress; see also ''The Bantam Report," p. 47. 21. Api, Mar. 24, 1925; the appeal, written in Sundanese by the Bandung Communist leader Gunawan, was spread about the area in leaflet form by the PKI. See also Api, Feb. 26 and Mar. 25, 1925, for similar appeals. 22. Api, editorial of Feb. 15, 1925. For a similar analysis of the problem confronting the PKI, see the editorial in Panggoegah (Suwardi Surjanlngrat's paper), Feb. 18, 1925, in IPO, no. 9, 1925, pp. 434-435. 23. Api, editorial of Jan. 6, 1925. 24. This was claimed by some rebel leaders to have been their calculation, according to Over.dcht van den inwendigen politieken toestand (Februari 1926Maart 1927) ( Survey of the Internal Political Situation, February 1926-March 1927) ( Netherlands Indies government, typescript, cla.ffl6ed), p. 24. 25. Samln [Darsono], ''The Situation In Indonesia," Inprecorr Oct. 4, 1928, p. 1246 ( coreport on the revolutionary movement in the colonies, presented to the sixth Comintern congress). 26. Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 122, quoting Instruction No. 2 issued by PKI headquarters on Mar. 24, 1925. The reference to proletarian dictatorship here Is one of the relatively rare instances In which It was stated that there

466

Notes, pp. 299-303 would be any prelude to the achievement of Communism after the revolution. 27. Schrieke, "Political Section," pp. 122-123, citing Instruction No. 2. Mar. 24, 192.5. 28. 'i"he Governor General's Report," p. 3. 29. Alirnin, Louteren wii ons! p. 85. 30. D. H. Meijer, "Over bet bendewezen op Java" (Concerning Gangs on Java), lndonesie, III, September 1949, p. 188, suggests that the reason not much note was taken of these groups during the colonial period was that they operated only among the Indonesian part of the population, that local officials were either afraid to complain or in league with them, and that the regents did not like to bring these groups to the notice of the Dutch, who would only accuse them of being unable to keep order. For an explanation of the. phenomenon in psychological terms, see P. M. van Wulfften Palthe, Over het bendewezen op Java (Concerning Gangs on Java) (Amsterdam, 1948?). 31. "The Bantam Report," p. 23. 32. Special areas for outlawry have been cited as North Bantam, the Priangan, Batavia, Bogor, Tjirebon, Indramaju, and Krawang in West Java; Surakarta, Jogjakarta, and the north coast of Central Java; and Madiun, South Kediri, Patjitan, Bodjonegoro, Ngawi, Gresik, Puger, and Kralcsaan in East Java; Meijer, "Over het bendewezen op Java," p. 179; D. H. Meijer, Japan unm den oorlog: Documenten over Java (Japan Wins the War: Documents on Java) (Maastricht, 1946), pp. 26, 96. The Communist units that most sbongly urged rebellion during 1926, or engaged in the uprising, were from North Bantam, the Priangan, Batavia, and Tjirebon in West Java and Surakarta and the north coast of Central Java. Anti-Communist fighting groups were from the Priangan, Bogor, Tjirebon, Kediri, Ngawi, Madiun, and Djepara, and Anti-Ruffian Leagues were in the Priangan, Batavia. Pekalongan, Joroalcarta, Surakarta, and Kediri. 33. Othen included the SI-Anjar (Sukabumi), Sarekat Sedjati (Semarang), Sarekat Abangan ( Klaten), and Sarekat Setya Warga ( Southeast Borneo); SI V, p. 374, col. a. Similarly, such groups in West Java took advantage of the Dutch collapse at the. time of the Japanese invasion to extract contributions from the population in the name of the advancing Japanese (who were portrayed as bringing the promised utopia) and to present themselves to the incoming forces as the effective local leaders; Meijcr, "Over het bendewezen op Java," pp. 182-193, citing Slamet Sudibio, "Perampokan" (Banditry), series of articles in Aria Raya, 1942. 34. SRJDin, "The Situation in Indonesia," p. 1247. 35. 'i"he Bantam Report," pp. 42-43. For a similar description of propaganda in the Minangkabau area, see Schricke, ..The Causes and Effects of Communism on the West Coast of Sumatra," p. 161. 36. Vemaf!. 1925, pp. 9--33; Verslae 1926, pp. 8-33; Overzicht SWK, p. 8. 37. Kemadfoean Hindia, Dec. 5, 1923, in IPO, no. 50, 19"....3, pp. 513-514. An earlier action of the Sernng SI may have been the reason for one of the more curious charges in the Jogjakarta-Semarang feud that followed Darsono's attack on Tjokroamlnoto. At the time (late 1920 and early 1921) participation in the second Volksraad was debated in the SI: the left generally urged noncooperation and the right wanted to accept a seat. Serang supported the candidacy of F. van Lith, S.J., a well-lmown West Java missionary who outspokenly supported toleration of the Indonesian national movement; see H. G. Heijting, Java's onrust (Java's Unrest) (Amsterdam, 1927), pp. 10-12. Presumably it did so not for reason of religious sympathy ( Serang was a center of Islamic orthodoxy), but

4f!l

Notes, pp. 303-305 because it thought his presence in the Volksraad would provide the Indonesian opposition with a defender who, being European and Christian, could not be considered a representative of the SI itself. Serang's initiative also received some backing from the pro-Semarang Bandung SI. Their sympathy for the Jesuit's candidacy seems the most likely reason why Jogjakarta, accusing the Communists of being Christian agents, declared them tools of the Catholic Church. For Hasan Djajadiningrat's entrance into politics, see A. Djajadiningrat, HeriBneringen van Pangeran Arla Achmad Dfafadiningrat ( Memoirs of Prince Aria Achmad Djajadiningrat; Amsterdam and Batavia, 1936), pp. 286-287. 38. For a discussion of the source of PKI support in Bantam, see "The Bantam Report," pp. 40-47; Pemberonlalcan, November 1926, pp. 58-62. 39. Arguments presented at a PKI meeting in Sawah Lunto, July 1926, in Reports of the Resident of Sumatra's West Coast to the Attorney General of the Netherlands Indies on the Extremist Organizations in the Sawah Lunto Area ( untitled, mimeographed, transmitted by the Attorney General to the Governor General with the date Jan. 10, 1927, no. 39/A.P., classified), no. 1227, pp. 3-7; hereafter cited as Reports of the Realdenl. The story of Lenin, the Tsar, and the Tsar's ashes seems to have been widely popular In West Sumatra; it was reported going the rounds in the Silungkang area at the time of the rebellion. De Locomoffef, Feb. 4, 1927. 40. Schrieke, "The Causes and Effects of Communism on Sumatra's West Coast," p. 148; Reports of the Resident, no. 1229, p. 5; "The Bantam Report," p. 43; Verslag butuu, 1926, p. 30. An Indonesian official assigned to study the development of the movement in West Sumatra reported that Hadji Abdullah Ahmad, a well-known anti-Communist religious teacher from the Minangkabau, had told him that, "Before I left for Batavia a short time ago, my mother asked me: 'Will the Hadjl stay long in Batavia?' I answered: 'No. But why do you ask that, Mother?' She replied: 1 have just heard that it will not be much longer before the people of Kota Lawns and Pandai Sikat will go to war with the Hollanders. Therefore I asked the question, for I fear the report is true.' " It was the Hadji's opinion that three-quarters of the men, women, and children in Kota Lawas were Communists. ( L. dt. Toemenggoeng, Geheime nota ooor den Admeur ooor lnlandsche zaken over het communisme ter Westku.st van Sumatra, p. 8). 41. Nleuwe Rotterdam,che Courant, Oct. 19, Nov. 2 and 7, 1926. Apt, July 7-11, 1925, in IPO, no. 29, 1925, p. f¥7, reprinted an article from Musso's Surabaja paper, Proletar, which suggested that Communist girls should no longer demand that their husbands merely join the party; they should also have made propaganda for the movement and brought at least 500 members into the Sarelcat Raltjat. Either the ladies of the PKI were seen as being extremely choosy or It was easy to get people to buy SR cards. 42. "The Bantam Report," p. 40. On Sumatra's East Coast, it was estimated that about 1,200 persons entered the party within a few months in 1925; Verslag butuur 1926, pp. 11, 14. 43. Nieuwe Rotterdam,che Courant, Sept. 25, 1925. How much of the locally collected money reached the center is hard to say; it seems, however, to have been a relatively small proportion. According to a government investigation of the movement on the West Coast of Sumatra, only 30 per cent of contributions and dues was sent on to the section treasury by the local units; some of this was then transferred to the main executive, but the report does not note how much; Overzlc11t SWK, p. 10. From the way in which the revolutionary prepara-

468

Notes, pp. 305-308 tions developed it would not appear that the center had any financial preponderance over the major party units; there is no indication that possession of money or amu by the center in8uenced the arguments whether or not to heed its decisions when the party split In 1926 over staging the revolt. 44. Sarelcat Tani groups were most important in West Sumatra, but they also existed in Java and Celebes. The name varied: sometimes they were referred to as Sarelcat Kawn Tani, Sarelcat Tani Indonesia or ( in Java) Perkumpulan Kaum Buruh dan Tani ( apparently an attempt to resurrect the movement founded earlier by Baars). 45. ''The Bantam Report," p. 46; Schrieke, "Political Section," pp. 106-107. 46. "Communisme," p. 537, col. a. The strike first broke out among the printers at the end of July and spread to the hospital employees and doclcworkers; in addition, unrest was noted on plantations in the Semarang area. The various strikes were met with extensive police measures; Nieuwe Rotterdam,che Courant, July 28 and 31, Aug. 1, 2, and 5, 1925; Bljlage 1925, p. 6. 47. Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 114, citing Instruction no. 8, dated Aug. 5, 1925. 48. Politieke nota PKI, p. 5; Biilage 1925, pp. 6-7. The VSTP indicated that it would not be prepared for a general strike before May 1926. Reportedly, the PKI executive assigned Winanta to visit the VSTP sections in West Java in order to win them over to the idea of a general strike; he was only able to confer with the section in Batavia, however, and was told there by the union executive that the VSTP would only participate in such an action if it were so well prepared as to be guaranteed to spread over all Java and receive general popular support. 49. PoUtieke nota PKI, p. 6, note 5. 50. Bataoltuuch Nieuwsblad, July 22, 1925; Soerabajaasch Handeublad, Aug. 8, 1925. Those present at the conference included the members of the Council of the Indies ( Raad van lndie), the director of the Civil Service, the Attorney General, the government spokesman to the Volksraad, the advisor for Chinese aff'airs, and the Governor General. 51. Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, Aug. 6 and 9, 1925; Bljlage 1925, pp. 6 and 8. 52. Blflage 1925, p. 8. 53. Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, July 31 and Aug. 20, 1925; Batavlaascl1 Nieuwsblad, Dec. 29, 1925; Alimin, Riwafat Hidup, pp. 15-20. Kem, the Adviser for Native Affairs, strongly opposed both the government's uncompromising attitude. on the strikes and the proposal to banish the PKI leaders. He argued that such policies, unaccompanied by reforms, merely 1ru1de martyrs of the Communists, attracting more half-baked youngsters to their ranks and giving them the impression that the government was afraid of the PKI. ''The Attorney General now proposes to banish four rather arbitrarily selected Communists," he remarked. "of whom the only thing that can be said is that they are prominent Communists. I fear that their banishment will perhaps result in a brief decline in Communist activity, but that it will swiftly recover. Others stand ready to take their place; they too can be banished, will find replacements, and where is the end?" R. Kem, letter to the Governor Genera1, dated Weltevreden, Sept. 25, 1925, no. G/234, classified, p. 3; for his remarks on the sbilce countermeasures, see Kem, letter to the Governor General, Aug. 13, 1925, no. G/2ld, pp. 1-3. 54. Biflage 1925, pp. 3, 10; De Telegraaf, Dec. 29, 1925; Overziclit Pati, p. 10. 55. Report of the Aut. Demang, (no. 51, classified), Oct. 9, 1925, p. I.

469

Notes, pp. 308-310 Similar alarm was expressed at a meeting of Sumatran PKI heads in Padang Pandjang on Oct. 16; Arif Fadillah, a major Sumatran PKI leader, was accused of anarchist activity and of ignoring the party executive's instructions not to provoke government reprisals unnecessarily. In view of his importance it was decided, however, to warn rather than expel him; Report of the Aul. Demong (no. 52/G, classified), Oct. 21, 1925, pp. 1-2; and see Schrieke, "Political Section," pp. 114-115. · 56. Bljlage 1925, p. 7. Sugono had argued at the beginning of 1925 that the workers should accept a grim immediate future and realize that organization was the only hope; Si Tetap, Jan. 31, 1925, in IPO, no. 9, 1925, p. 444. The rapporteur of the December 1925 VSTP congress, apparently re8ecting general concern over irresponsible radicalism in the union. appended to his notes a list of thirty-two VSTP /PKI leaders whom he considered to display dangerous anarchist tendencies; Minutes of the VSTP Meeting, Dec. 25/26, 1925, Hotel Pasar-Pon, Suralc:arta (untitled typescript, in Indonesian) pp. 6-7, hereafter cited as Minute•. 57. In Batavia, the hospital employees and customs officials went on strilce in August 1925; in Belawan Deli, the port of Medan, harbor worlc:ers wallced out In early October. There were also minor strilces at Padang and Malc:assar. 58. For a detailed description of the strilce, see Rapport van het hoofd, pp. 77-102; this was the report of a government inquiry into the strilc:e, drawn up at the request of the Governor General. See also Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, Nov. 3 and Dec. 28, 1925, and Jan. 12, 19, and 31, 1926. 59. Koch, Batig Slot, pp. 31-32; Verantwoording, pp. 137-139. A difference of opinion between the central and local authorities also seems to have occurred in the Semarang strikes: Mayor de Jongh of Semarang complained that the government had prohibited assembly in that city ( to which he objected) without explanation to the local officials; Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, Feb. 22, 1926. Government measures against political and labor unrest aroused considerable complaint in parliament. See the Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, Apr. 26, 1926; Begrooting 1926, pp. 199 and (the Minister of Colonies' reply) 218; Van der l.ee, De S.D.A.P. en lndonene, pp. 91-94. Resenbnent over its action was the immediate reason for Budi Utomo's noncooperation decision at its April 1926 congress; "Boedi Oetomo," p. 942, col. b. 60. Api, Jan. 16, 1920, appealing to units of the sugar worlc:ers', postal worlc:ers', printers', and sailors' and dockers' unions. 61. Geheim Ver.rlag dari Conferentle Verspreide Lid Hoofdbestuur Partlf Communist lndonena pada tanggal 13 Januari 1926 ( Secret Report of the Conference of the non-Batavia Members of the Main Executive of the Communist Party of Indonesia on Jan. 13, 1926) ( typescript, drawn up by a PKI rapporteur), p. 1, hereafter cited as Geheim verslag. In spite of Sutigno's assurance that he would replace the cash in good time, the party expelled him at this conference. 62. Koch, Batig Slot, p. 32; Api, Jan. 13, 1926. Among those kept on in jail were Prawirosardjono and Sulc:endar. 63. Rapport van het hoofd, pp. 87-88. 64. Alimin is said to have encouraged concentration on Surabaja in letters sent from Canton after his escape from the Indies; De Courant, Jan. 21, 1926. According to this source, which claims to be based on letters written by Alimin to the party on Java and apprehended by the police, Alimin obtained funds In Canton to support the Surabaja strike effort, but he was unable to send them to the PKI because of the dose police check kept on him.

,no

Notes, pp. 310-311 65. Mauawar [Musso], report to the sixth Comintem congress, lnprecorr, Oct. 17, 1928, pp. 1324-1325. Musso was viewed by the government as the architect of the Surabaja sbikes; Rapport oon het hoofd, p. 86. He could not have been directly responsible for their outbreak, however, as he was in prison from August to mid-October. 66. Rapport oan het hoofd, pp. 86, 100; Politieke nota PKI, pp. 5-6. 67. The prohibition of the right of assembly was imposed for the PKI, SR, sugar workers' union ( SBC ) , and union of machinists and electrical workers (SBBE) by government decision of Nov. 28, 1925; on Dec. 15 this was extended to include the SPPL, VSTP, and the naval station employees' union, SBME. "Communisme," p. 538, col. a. 68. Geheim venlag, p. 1. 69. Mowo, Dec. 7, 1925, in IPO, no. 51, 1925, p. 614. Among the party leaders listed as having arrived were Sardjono, Winanta, Aliarcham, Sutan Said Ali. Kusnogunoko, Hadji Umar, Samsuri, Wirasuharta, Abna.surnarta, Marco, and Sastrowidjono. 70. The exact date of this gathering is uncertain, although most likely it was Dec. 25. Schrieke, "Political Section," pp. 115-116, mentions a letter written on Dec. 16 on behoH of the PKI executive reporting the meeting. However, according to Djamaluddin Tamin (interview, 1959, and written statement, dated Apr. 2, 1962, in Sudijono, P.K.1.-SIBAR Contra Tan Malaka, p. 24), the date was Dec. 25, the same day the VSTP congress convened in Suralcarta. This date is also given in the PKI account Pemberontakan Nooember 1926, p. 51. Both these recent accounts give the place of the meeting as the Prambanan shrine itseH, which is possible, as it is customary for people in the general area to visit the major monuments of Borobudur and Prambanan on holidays, and a small group would have had an ostensibly legitimate purpose in going there and could be inconspicuous in the general crowd. That the Surakarta and Prambanan meetings were essentially two parts of the same discussion is indicated in the PKI con6dential report of a conference it held shortly thereafter; Geheim venlag, p. 5. December 25 is also the date referred to in an account by Tan Malalca; Malalca, Thesis, p. 38. At any rate, all the existing reports ( see, in addition, Politieke nota PKJ, p. 11; C. J. van Munster, "The Background and History of the Insurrection on Java," lnprecorr, Dec. 16, 1926, p. 1499; Djoehana, "History of the Indonesian Nationalist Movement," no. 15, p. 9) agree on December u the month of the Prambanan meeting, except for Musso's report to the sixth Comintem congress (Mauawar, report in lnpreco", Oct. 17, 1928, p. 1324). Either by a slip of the tongue or for reasons of his own, Musso said the conference had taken place in October 1925. 71. According to Djamaluddin Tamin (interview, 1959 and written statement dated Apr. 2, 1962, in Sudijono, P.K.1.-SIBAR Contra Tan Malaka, p. 19), the group consisted of eleven persons, five of whom were members of the PKI central executive; they included Sardjono, Alimin, Musso, Budisutjitro (mentioned in interview) and Winanta ( mentioned in statement). Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 116, also lists eleven participants: Alimin (in charge of the meeting), Sutan Said Ali ( representing the West Sumatran PKI), Budisutjitro, J ahja, Aliarcham, Sugono, Surat Hardjomartojo, Jatim, Sulcimo, Suwamo, and Kusno (-gunolco). If Alimin attended the meeting, he must have slipped back to Java secretly. There is no further evidence that he did, and he claims (interview, 1959, and Alimin, Riwafat Hldup, p. 20) that he met with the other PKI leaders only after they arrived in Singapore. The PKI account of the rebelllon lists

471

Notes, pp. 311-315 "among others" Sardjono, Buclisutjitro, Sugono, Suprodjo, Kusnogunoko, Najoan, Herujuwono, Winanta, Gondojuwono, Sutan Said Ali, AbduJmuntalib, and Marro; Pemberontakan NOfJember 1926, p. 52. The VSTP leader Ongko D also gave the number of participants in the meeting as eleven; written statement, dated Apr. 14, 1962, in Sudijono, P.K.1.-SIBAR Contra Tan Mala/ca, p. 64. 72. Pemberontakan November 1926, p. 52. 73. Darsono, interview, 1959; Reports of the Resident, pp. 3-4, referring to statements made by Sutan Said Ali and Dahlan on their return from the conference. 74. June 18, 1926, was the date given by Tan Malaka (Thesis, p. 38), by Damaluddin Tamin ( interview, 1959, and statement dated Apr. 2, 1962, in Sudijono, P.K.I.-SIBAR contra Tan Malaka, pp. 19, 24), and by Nurut (statement dated Apr. 19, 1962, in Sudijono, P.K.1.-SIBAR contra Tan Mala/ca, p. 86); Pemberontakan November 1926 also gives June (p. 53). 75. Mauawar (Musso), in Inpreco", Oct. 17, 19-28, pp. 1324-1325; "Communisme," p. 951, col b; Schrieke "Political Section," p. 116, citing a letter sent the PKI branches on Dec. 16, 1925, signed by Sardjono, Winanta, and Budisutjitro on behalf of the party executive and calling on the Communists to be ready to revolt in July 1926. 76. Geheim oerslag, pp. ~77. Bi;lage 1925, pp. 7-8. See also Politek oerslag 1926, p. 2; Api, Dec. 21-25, 1925, in IPO, no. 1, 1926, p. 5. 78. Minutes, pp. 1-2. That all eighty-two representatives were at this meeting seems unlikely, unless the hotel were run dormitory style; but the minutes of the conference do not indicate that it was a smaller group. 79. Minutes, pp. 1-7; and see Gelieim verslag, pp. 1, 5. The Dec. 22 party meeting had called for a referendum of PKI units. 80. Politieke nota PKI, p. 11, citing a letter written by Subakat in Singapore lo the PKI executive on Java on June 12, 1926; and see Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 116. 81. Geheim oerslag, p. l; Musso, "The White TeJTOr in Indonesia," lnprecon, Mar. 8, 1929, p. 13; Blumberger Communist, p. 59. The initials were taken from its Dutch name ( Dubbele or Dictatoriale Organisatie); its Indonesian name, rarely used, was P.K.I. ke-Dua (Second PKI), which was reminiscent of the Indonesian-language name of the Section B ( S.I. ke-Dua). 82. Semaun, Rapotan, pp. 35-36. 83. Semaun, "Brleven," June 8, 1925; see also the issue of June 6, 1925. 84. Api, Nov. 16, 1925. The text of the resolution, which was dated Oct. 26, 1925, is given in "Doloi teJTOr v Indonezil" (Down with the Terror in Indonesia), Krasnyi Internauional Profsoluzov, December 1925, pp. 122-123. See also "The Struggle of the Indonesian Proletariat," Inpreco", Nov. 12, 1925, pp. 1214-1215. 85. Api, Mar. 9, 1925. The cablegram was datelined Amsterdam, Mar. 8, and signed by Bergsma; it seems to have been an outgrowth of a major protest rally sponsored by the Dutch Communists in Amsterdam on Feb. 26, 1925, which adopted resolutions against the government's Indonesia policy and supported independenre; De Tribune, Feb. 27, 1925. The parenthetical information seems to have been supplied by Api; I have no more idea than the newspaper what BKST stood for. 86. Tiitigkeltsbarlcht der Erekutive der Kommunistischen Internationale 19251926 (Report on the Activity of the Executive of the Communist International 1925-1926) (Hamburg, 1926), p. 362; see also Scmaun, "Der Internationale

472

Notes, pp. 315-316 lmperialismus und die Kommunistische Partei Indonesiens," p. 58; P. Bergmia, ..Labour Struggles in the East Indies," p. 1106; P. Bergsma, "Progress of the Revolutionary Movement in Indonesia," p. 1366. trl. Darsono, "Die Lage der Volksbewegung Indonesiens," p. 418. 88. Minutes, p. 3. 89. For example, see the Report of the Assistant Resident of Pati, Ranneft, to the Resident of Semarang ( untitled typescript, dated Nov. 25, 1926, no. 9741/ 68) p. 2, hereafter cited as Report of the Assistant, Pati; "The Bantam Report," p. 43; Ovenicl1t Pati, p. 27; Politiek verslag 1928, pp. 8-9; Nieuwe Rotterdam.ache Courant, Mar. 10, 1925, and July 13, 1926. 90. According to Djamaluddin Tamin (interview, 1059), this solution to the arms procurement problem was proposed by Alimin in discussing the Prambanan decision with Tan Malalca in early 1926; Semaun ( interview, 1959) stated that it was suggested to him by Alimin and Musso when they arrived in Moscow a few months later.

91. Schrielce, "Political Section," pp. 115-118, citing the report on the Prambanan conference issued by the PKI executive on Dec. 16, 1925; and see Minutes, p. 4. 92. According to Tan Malaka, the main purpose of the PKI emissaries' trip to Moscow was to seek Comintem authorization; Malaka, Thesis, p. 38. This was also stressed by Darsono (interview with G. McT. Kahin, 1955). Musso declared that the PKI chie8y hoped for Cornintem aid in preparing a program that would appeal to the broad national revolutionary forces of Indonesia ( Inprecorr, Oct. 17, 1928, pp. 1324-1325), but his statement was probably tailored to what the Cornintem actually decided to do about the Indonesian proposal. At the Pasar Pon meeting, Sugono discussed "secret business of the VSTP which will also be taken up with Soviet Russia via a secret route; when this has eventually been worked out, it will be possible to carry on a very violent resistance." He also read passages from n confidential letter sent by the Perhimpunan Indonesia from Airu,1erdam in October 1925, which, he declared, promised ~-trong support if the VSTP undertook resistance and assured that aid would also come from "other Red countries"; Minutes, pp. 4-5. How much Sugono was reading into the PI expression of sympathy, it is difficult to say; the part of the letter quoted directly in the minutes of the meeting simply expressed general anti-Dutch and prorevolutionary nationalist feelings. Djamaluddin Tamin ( interview, 1959) said he had visited PKI headquarters on Java just after the December conferences and was informed then of the decision to revolt. The party leaders explained that pressure from below was such that action could no longer be delayed, and since they could not finance a rebellion, they had decided to appeal to Moscow for aid. 93. Politiek vcrslag 1926, pp. 1-2; Apl, Jan. 18 and 22, 1926. Darsono sailed for Singapore on Jan. 29, 1926, and proceeded from there under police escort to Shanghai, where he stayed a short time before continuing to Vladivostok and Moscow; Darsono, interview, 1959. 94. Batavlaasch Nieuwsblad, Jan. 13, 1926; Apl, Jan. 12 and Feb. 1, 19~; Java Bode, Feb. 5, 1926. 95. Alimin, Rlwafat Hidup, pp. 20, 22; and see Tan Malalca, DP, I, p. 143. According to Semaun (interview, 1959), the PKI leaders first wanted Semaun to come to Singapore to discu.'iS the situation with them, since as a member of the ECCi presidium he was the top Comintem representative for Indonesia ( and because they knew Tnn Malaka disapproved the Prambanan proposal5?).

473

Notes, p. 316 However, the Comintem rejected his going to Singapore, and the party leaders then decided to appeal to Malalca. The PKI history oE the rebellion asserts that the party executive first sent Alimin and later Musso to contact one of the ECCi representatives in the Far East in order to get an opinion on the Prambanan decision. They heard nothing from this mission for some time, and so Sardjono and Budisut;tro were sent as envoys to Singapore to meet with Tan Malalca. Malaka refused to leave the Philippines, and so Alimin was sent to see him in Manila; Pemberontalcan November 1926, pp. 53-54. It does not seem likely to me that the PKI contacted either Semaun or other ECCi representatives in the time between the Prambanan conference and Alimin's visit to Tan Malaka, in view of the distance and difficulty of communication. What is possible is that the party had made earlier efforts to arrange a meeting with Semaun ( we will remember that there were attempts to bring him to Singapore during 1925) and that Alimin tried to press this or to get in touch with International representatives in the Far East during his visit to Canton in about August 1925. However, Alimin does not mention such efforts in his autobiography or his polemic with Tan Malaka. Musso is recorded as attending the Prambanan conference in one of the three lists of participants, and the Dutch-language press reported only that the police had missed him since early January 1926. He could not have left Indonesia much before the Prambanan conference, as he was In the country in late November. I have seen no further evidence for a mission by Musso at this time. Nor does it seem likely that Sardjono and Budisutjftro left Indonesia simply as emis.'illries. They were not the only ones to depart after the December meetings; virtually the whole of the top party leadership appears to have left Indonesia betwet"n January and early April 1926. It seems to me most probable that the entire executive expected to be arrested and its members sought to avoid this by decamping to Singapore, where they could more easily contact Comintem representatives and where they could safely wait out any further repercussions of the Surabaja strikes. 96. Tan Malaka, Thesis, p. 38, says he met with Alimin at the end of March 1926; Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 163, places their meeting In February; and Djamaluddin Tamin, in a statement dated Apr. 2, 1962, in Sudijono, P.K.1.SIBAR Contra Tan Ma/aka, pp. 24, 30, said that AIJmin left Singapore for the Philippines early in January, was persuaded by Malaka's viewpoint after a week or two of arguing, and then spent more time discussing the theses Malaka was drawing up and making arrangements for communications between ManiJa and Singapore. He left Manila on Feb. 15, having been about a month in the Philippines. A January or February meeting would seem likely if Sugono attended the second Singapore conference, which it seems probable he did. Other references to the Malaka-Alimin meeting may be found in PembeTontakan November 1926, p. 54; Politieke nota PKI, p. 12, which cites as the source of its information a letter written by Subakat in Singapore, dated June 12, 1926, to PKI headquarters on Java; and also "Dibelakang Lajar Komoenis" (Behind the Communist Veil), Santapan Rakfat, Sept. 18, 1948, p. l; Kahin, Nationallml, p. 82; Dimyati, Sed;arah, p. 24. 97. Alimin, Analysis, p. 14. 98. Tan Malaka said he had received weekly reports on PKI developments from Aliarcham when the latter was party chairman. Malab had heard from him of the decision to abolish the SR and had written him protesting the decision; but Aliarcham was jailed while they were still debating the point; Malaka, Them, p. 47. In addition, Malaka is said to have taken up the December conference

474

Notes, pp. 316-321 program with Alimin on when he visited the Philippines in 1925; Djamaluddin Tamin, interview, 1959. 99. According to Tan Malaka, he wrote this pamphlet in China in the last days of 1924; Malalca, DP I, p. 113. It was published 6rst in Canton in April 1925 and then in Tokyo in December of the same year. The Dutch Communist paper received a copy of the China edition and reviewed it very favorably; De Tribune, July 24, 1925. 100. T. Malaka, Nam de "Republiek-lndonesia" (Canton, April 1925), pp. 26, 36-37; see also Tan Malab, Semangat Moeda (The Youthful Spirit) (Tokyo, January 1926), pp. 58-65, 73-74. 101. Versions of the program are given in Naar de "Republiek-lndonesia," pp. 21-23; Semangat Maeda, pp. 59--6.5; Tan Malalca, Masaa Actie (Mass Action) (Djakarta, 1947), pp. 69-75. 102. Naar de "Republiek-lndonesia," p. 27; Semangat Moeda, pp. 72-73. 103. Naar de "Republiek-lndonesia," p. 26; and see Massa Actie, pp. 48, 51. 104. Naar de "Republiek-lndonuia," pp. 18--19. 105. Naar de "Republiek-Indonesia," p. 47. For Malaka's comments on the Pacific war, see pp. 41-43, and on revolutionary strategy, pp. 34-36. 106. Malaka, Semangat Maeda (Tokyo, 1926), p. 86. For the comments on revolutionary strategy, see pp. 73-75. 107. Malalca, DP I, pp. 143-145. Elsewhere, however (Thesis, p. 43), Malaka stated that he had heard of the decision only when Alimin returned from Singapore. Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 135, stated that Malalca 6rst learned of it through "the written report of Aliarcham and Budisutjitro"; but it is unli1tely that AlJarcham helped write such a report, as he had 'been in jail since Dec. 5. 108. Malaka, Thesis, p. 38. Emphasis in the text. 109. Malaka, Thesis, p. 38; Schrieke, "Political Section," pp. 153-154. 110. Malalca, Massa Actie, p. 48. This pamphlet was first published in Singapore in 1926. 111. Malaka, Mas,a Actie, p. 56, note l; and see pp. 47-50 on legal activities, p. 51 on party democracy, pp. 55--56 on the national front, and pp. 62-63 on terrorism. 112. Malaka, Massa Actie, p. 61. 113. Malaka, Thesis, p. 38; Schrieke, ''Political Section," p. 154; Politieke nota PK.I, p. 11, citing the Subakat letter of June 12., 1926; Kahin, NationalLnn,

P· 82. 114. Malaka, Thesis, p. 40. 115. Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 154; Politieke nota PK.I, p. 11, citing the Subabt letter of June 12, 1926. Kahin, Nationalism, p. 82, and Djamaluddin Tamin, in Sudijono, P.K.1.-SIBAR contra Tan Malaka, p. 27, claim, however, that Alimin did not indicate Tan Malaka's opposition. The PKI history Pemberontakan November 1926 does not mention the theses as such, but states that Alimfn presented Malaka's opinion, which did not agree with the Prambanan decision (p. 54). The second Singapore meeting took place in April 1926, according to Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 154, and Politieke rwta PKI, p. 25. Djamaluddin Tamin, however, gives it as Mar. 11, 1926; interview, 1959. H Sugono took part, It Is likely It was held in March, as he was arrested when he returned to Indonesia, on April 7; Politiek oerslag 1926, p. 11. The meeting was attended by Sugono, Budisutjitro, Winanta, Musso, Subakat, Suprodjo and Alimin, according to Djamaluddin Tamin; interview, 1959, and statement in Sudijono, P.K.1.-SIBAR contra Tan Malaka, p. 25. Pemberontakan Nooember 1926, p. 54, mentions Sard-

DS

Notes, p. 321 jono and Sugono as present in Singapore throughout this period. Tan Malaka mentions Sugono's participation in the second meeting; Them, p. 38. However, Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 154, and Polffleke nota PKI, p. 25, note as participants all the above except Suprodjo and Sugono; and Alimin, Riwafat Hldup, p. 22, mentions only three conferees-Musso, Subalcat, and himself. 116. Polffleke nota PKI, p. 25, states that Musso played the major role In urging adherence to the Prambanan decision; Pemberontakan Nooember 1928, p. 54, claims that party chairman Sardjono denounced Malaka's position and gave the orders for the Musso-Alimin expedition and the return of the other party leaders to Indonesia. Both Musso and Sardjono were subsequently prominent in preventing any retreat from the Prambanan position. 117. Semaun, interview, 1959. According to Semaun, Musso knew the code that was to relay the message from Moscow, but Alimln did not. 118. Malalca claimed he did not hear from Alimin for nearly two months after his departure from Manila; Mataka, DP I, p. 146. The most probable dates are those given by Djamaluddin Tamin, and they place Alhnin's departure from Manila on Feb. 15 and his letter from Singapore on Mar. 16, a lapse of a month. Possibly the letter was sent by a clrcuftous route and took several weeks to arrive; if so, it would provide a reason other than illness for the delay in Malalca's departure from Manila. 119. Malalca, DP I, p. 146. However, according to Malalca's disciple, Djamaluddin Tamin ( statement dated Apr. 2, 1962, In Sudijono, P.K.1.-SlBAR contnJ Tan Malaka, pp. 27-28), Alimin sent a Jetter to Tan Malalca on Mar. 16, 1926, the day he and Musso departed for Moscow. The Jetter stated that the party executive had refused to acoept Malalca's views and had decided to send Allmin and Musso to Moscow. Malalca felt that the PKI leadership would not have rejected his theses unless there had been foul play on Alfmin's part, and so he made every effort to get to Singapore as soon as he was able. The PKI account Pemberontol:on Nooember 1928, p. 54, states that Musso and AlJmin were flrst to go to Canton to contact a representative of the Comintem Eastern Section and then to Moscow to confer with the ECCi. Politieke nota PKI, p. 11, says that A1imln and Musso Intended either to confer in Canton with Borodin or to ~o to Moscow and taJJc to Comintem leaders there ( the latter alternative would presumably have been In case Borodin was unwilling or unable to approve the project himself). A1imln, Rlwafat Hldup, p. 22, mentions that he and Musso went to Rus.m by way of Canton and Shanghai. It Is most likely that they did get in touch with Soviet or Comintem representatives while In China, if only to arrange for travel to Russia. No awareness of their impending visit was shown by the head of the ECCi Eastern Section, M. N. Roy, in a letter written to Sneevliet on June 12, 1926; however, this may have been due to faulty communications. The length of time involved In their bip ( nenrly three months, if we take Mar. 16 as the date of their departure) is plausible considering their illegal status, inadequate funds, and laclc of prior Soviet permission for the trip. We have no indication what discussions, if any, Alimln and Musso had with Comintem representatives in China; however, one bit of Information may provide a clue. Budisutjitro was arrested in Temate on his way back from the Singapore meetings; it was reported that he had gone from Singapore to Hong Kong and Shanghai, returning through Hong Kong and Manila to Temate, where he was captured; Nleuwe Rotterdanuche Courant, June 15, 1926. This indirect itinerary su~ests that he might have accompanied Allmln and Musso on the 8rst leg of their journey; I can think of no other obvious reason why he would

"16

Notes, p. 322 have gone as far afield as Shanghai. His Manila visit might have been simply to make connections for Indonesia, or he might have intended to inform Tan Mala1ca of what had been done. Apparently he did not meet with Malaka.; very likely he arrived after Malalca had left for Singapore. Nurut the then vice-chairman of the Makassar PKI, has recounted that Budisutjltro unexpectedly appeared in Makassar in May 1926; written statement dated Apr. 19, 1962, in Sudijono, P.K.l.-SIBAR contra Tan Malaka, pp. 84-85. He was using a false passport and, disguised as a trader, was trying to avoid the police. Nurut, who had known him earlier, met with him in a brief and furtive conference. Budisutjitro told him that at the beginning of 1926 he had secretly left Batavia for Singapore and had received a mandate from the party executive for a mission abroad. He had been forced to return in roundabout fashion, via Makassar to Surabaja. He did not mention the Prambanan conference ( about which, according to Nurut, the Makassar branch had still received no news) and said only that the PKI had been forced to dissolve as a legal organization, that unexpected events might take place, and that the Communists must guard against provocation. The next day, according to Nurut, he left for Surabaja. Ternate is hardly on the way from Makassar to Surabaja, but Budisutjitro may have had what he thought was safe passage aboard a vessel making the trip through the eastern islands and then around to Java. If Nurut's story is true, it is strange that Budisutjitro would not have informed the Malcassar party branch of the Prambanan decision, for it was certainly never intended to keep the revolt plans secret from the outlying PKI sections. The only likely reason seems that, either because of his own sober second thought or because of his knowledge of the reaction the Alimin-Musso expedition received in China, he had come to doubt that the plan would in fact go through. Accounts differ as to Budisutjitro's attitude when he left prison, but he ended up on the antirebellion side. 120. Malaka, Tliesis, pp. 36, 38--39; Pemberontakan November 1926, p. 54; Djamaluddin Tamin, in Sudijono, P.K.1.-SIBAR contra Tan Malaka, p. 28. According to Malalca, he arrived in Singapore on May 6. See also Dimyati, Sedfarah, p. 24; Djamaluddin Tamin, in Sudijono, P.K.l.-SIBAR contra Tan Ma/aka, p. 28. He was spotted aboard a Japanese ship headed from the Philippines for Malaya on Apr. 30, according to a Report of the Attorney General to the Resident of Swnatra's West Coast (untitled, mimeograph, dated Weltevreden, Sept. ~. 1926, classified), p. 2. Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 155, gives the date of his arrival as early June. This seems unlikely unless Suprodjo's journey ( see below) was unusually hasty. 121. Politieke nota PKI, p. 11, citing letters from Singapore to the Java executive; Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 155. Djamaluddin Tamin, in Sudijono, P.KJ.SIBAR contra Tan Malaka, p. 29, states that Malaka wrote the first of a series of letters to the Java party on May 6, the day of his arrival in Singapore, calling on all members of the executive to come to that city in order to learn from him the truth of what Alimin had done and to rescind the Prambanan decision. He also requested them to send comrades representing the outlying party sections, in order that he might explain the situation to them and give instructions for launching local activities that would culminate in a national mass action. According to this account, the first reaction received from Java was a letter from Sardjono stating that the Prambana.n decision was not subject to discussion and that further correspondence on the question was not desired. 122. Djamaluddin Tamin, in Sudijono, P.K.1.-SIBAR contra Tan Malaka, p. 30.

477

Notes, pp. 322-325 For Suprodjo's visit, see also Malalca, Thesis, p. 39; Dimyati, Sedfarah, pp. 24-25, 35; Schrielce, "Political Section," p. 155. According to Pemberontalcan N006f1lber 1928, p. 54, Sugono as well as Suprodjo came to Singapore at Malaka's request, and Sugono was arrested when he arrived bade In Indonesia. This does not seem lilcely: Sugono was captured on returning from Singapore, but on Apr. 7, thus presumably after the Singapore executive meetings and before Malaka arrived. This account is also the only one to plare Suprodjo among the group in Singapore from January through March. Dimyati's hMory states that Suprodjo arrived in Singapore on June 15, 1926, and spoke In Bandung. after his return, on June 29. DjamaluddJn Tamin's account says that he arrived in Singapore about the end of June and was back in Bandung at the beginning of July. Schriekc's account states that he returned to Bandung. then PKI headquarters, at the end of June, having traveled there via Bandjermasin and Surabaja. If he had returned by late June or early July ( which seem probable both because of the agreement of the accounts and the subsequent chain of events) it is not possible that he arrived in Singapore at the end of June and unlikely that he came as late as June 15 if be took the circuitous route described by Schrieke.

CHAPTER XII 1. Central executive representatives were Sardjono, Winanta, Osman gelar

Sutan Keadilan, and Dawud. There were four representatives from the most important (class I) sections: Sutigno (Surabaja), Sugono (Semarang), Sardjono (Batavia), and Sutan Djenain (Bandung). From the class II branches were Samyarata (Jogjakarta), Marco (Suralcarta), Sosroabnodjo (Madiun), Tarmudji (Kediri), Muchsin (Tjirebon), Salimun (Pelcalongan), S. Prapto (Tegal), Englcu Djamaluddin Ra.sad ( West Sumatra), Abdullcarim ( Atjeh), A. C. Salim ( Malcassar ), Samsjudin (Medan), and 0. Najoan (Temate); Geheim verslag, p. 1. 2. Geheim oer,lag. p. 2. 3. Geheim oerslag, pp. 2-3. 4. Geheim oerslag, p. 2. 5. Ge1urlm oorslag, p. 3. 6. Article by Sugono in SI Tetap, Dec. 31, 1925, in JPO, no. 6, 1926, p. 300. 7. Malaka, Thesis, p. 38; Polltiek veTslag 1926, p. 11. Sugono's opposition may explain why the PKI history Pemberontakan November 1928, p. 54, claimed that he had met with Tan Mala1ca in Singapore. The government version of Sugono's death was that he committed suicide in prison six weeks after his anest; the Communists claim he died under questioning and that the polire therefore allowed only his immediate family to prepare his body for burial; Pemberontakan November 1928, pp. 54--55. 8. Mowo, editorial of Dec. 18, 1925, In JPO, no. 1, 1926, pp. 35-36. 9. Beginning with the issue of Jan. 2, 1926, Api published quotations from Bakunin on the character of revolutionary action. They were printed In italics on the first page; nothing similar was done at the time for statements by any other political thinker. The editor in chief of Api was then Herujuwono, one of the most active proponents of a resort to arms. 10. Schrielce, "Political Section," p. 119, quoting PKI executive letter no. 59, Feb. 1, 1926. 11. Schrieke, "Polltical Section," p. 120, quoting circulars sent to PKI sections for distribution to subsections, dated Jan. 23, 1926. However, it was later decided, at least in the case of West Sumatra, that only regular dues should

478

Notes, pp . .325-327 be sent on to the center. Gifts ( uang derma) were retained by the section for use at its own discretion; Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 120, citing a letter from PKI headquarters to the Padang section, dated Mar. 11, 1926. The West Sumatran group decided that the proper use for its money was to buy arms and arranged to buy guns abroad; Hadji Mohammad Nur Ibrahim seems to have been the chief figure in the anm procurement effort and to have negotiated with Alimin and Musso to secure guns from across the Straits; p. 120. 12. In the western Priangan, plans for a May revolution were popularly assigned to the Asror movement, a secret society whose members belonged to the . SI and which taught the secret of invuloerability; Nadere 1927, p. 244. In Atjeh, people were told by PKI leaders that the uprising would commence in June; Verslag bestuur 1927, p. 8; Nleuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, Sept. 9, 1926. 13. Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 151, referring to the situation in West Sumatra. 14. A. J., "Indische chroniek" (Indies Chronicle), De Opbouw, June 15, 1926, p. 50; Nleuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, May 25 and 31, 1926; De Telegraaf, June 3, 1926. 15. Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 153, quoting Instruction no. 5 of Apr. 13, 1925. In the Semarang area, party leaders were reported to have been busy during April visiting their followers and instructing them that the section executive had decided against any May Day celebration that year; Politlek oerslag 1926, p. 8. The vice-chairman of the Makassar section reported that in May a communique from the party executive was received; it bitterly criticized the government measures, which it admitted had severed the center's connections with the outlying branches. It advised all local leaders to continue their worlc as best they could and above all to avoid responding to provocations. Nurut, written statement In Sudijono, P.K.1.-SIBAR contra Tan Malaka, p. 85. This may have been the executive's Apr. 13 instruction, which could well have arrived late in Makassar. 16. Nleuwe Rotterdam.sche Courant, May 3, 11, and 18, 1926; Dingley, Peasants' Movement, p. 49. 17. BatiJc cloths with the hammer and siclcle or star and crescent (the SR emblem) were favored by Mu'alimin adherents; manufactured by the Surakarta batik industry, the subversive sarongs also found a good market on the West Coast of Sumatra. It was forbidden to sell or wear them; Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, Nov. 2 and 8, 1926. 18. PolUiek oerslag 1926, pp. 9-11, 16-17. The VSTP had had 66 branches and 9,000 members at the beginning of 1926 but sank to 6 locals and several hundred active members during the course of the year. Communist union activity in the Semarang area was halted, according to this report, partly because so many suspected leftists were fired from their jobs that the workers were afraid to have anything to do with the revolutionary unions. 19. Nleuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, Dec. 28, 1926; "Communisme," p. 952, col. a; Verslag bestuur 1927, pp. ~9. 19. 20. The Indies government belief in the ineffectiveness of the PICT in 1926, and its lack of knowledge concerning the real state of affairs In the areas where the movement was becoming a serious threat, was stressed to the writer by Professor G. F. Pijper (interview, 1960), who in 1926 was assistant to the Adviser for Native Affairs. 21. For complications in the West Sumatra leadership, see Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 116; for the Semarang area, see Politiek oerslag 1926, p. 8. The laclc of contact with outlying sections is illustrated by a letter sent by the central

D9

Notes, pp. 327-329 executive to the West Sumatra PKI on June 7, in which data on the number

of PKI members, candidates, and SR and union members was requested, with the e.tplaDat1on that ~our activities are being reudered increas1ngly more difllcult; now we are no longer allowed to publish a paper carrying Information concern•

mg the overall situation of the movement. We therefore very &incerely hope that you, comrade, will send us a detaJled and clear report concerning all move-

mcnts in your Section. In this report you are urged not to omit a description of popular sentiment vis-d-vfs our movement ..."; quoted in Schrieke, ''Political

Section," p. 155, note 1Z5. 22. Api, editorial of Jan. 13, 1926; Schrielce, "Political Section," p. 153, citing a communication from the central committee to the Padang party section. 23. On June 9 the executive issued an insbuction providing that "representatives of the Central Committee have to be in possession of an authorization from us, written on the haclc of their personal photographs. The authorizations will also be provided with a rubber stamp from the C,entral Committee, and with the signatures of the Central Committee chairman and secretary or their alternates. Persons unable to produce photographs and authorizations as explained above are not to be accepted as our representatives"; quoted in Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 153. 24. Politiek verslag 1928, p. 12. The VSTP also, according to this report, acquired a Double Organization, under the chairmanship of Saleh, a Semarang union leader of notably rebellious inclinations. The Batavia branch suggested that the union also organize itself in sections and subsections in the manner of the PIO, hut Kadarisman, chairman of the union and of the Semarang PKI, refused on the grounds that he doubted the party structure was sound. 25. Brouwer, De houding, pp. 116-118; Koch, Batig Slot, pp. 35-39. 26. Djamaluddin Tamin, interview, 1959. It was perhaps this meeting which Musso refened to in his report to the sixth Comintem congres., as the PKl's third conference on the revolution, at which it was decided to postpone the date of the revolt; Inpre~, Oct. 17, 1928, p. 1325. According to Djamaluddin Tamin, who represented South Sumatra at the meeting. he opposed the decision to go through with the rebellion after the other units indicated the degree of their UDpreparedness. However, no one else shared this view, and he was persuaded to change his mind. ~- Dimyati, Sedfarah, p. 35. According to this source, the meeting took place on June 29. See also Pemberontakan Nooember 1926, p. 55; Djamaluddin Tamin, in Sudijono, P.KJ.-SIBAR contra Tan Malalca, p. 30. 28. Djamaluddin Tamin, interview, 1959; Schrlelce, "Political Section," pp. 15.>-156; Malalca, The.ri8, p. 39; Kahin, Natlonallnn, pp. 82-83; Pemberontakan Nooember 1926, p. 125. The last two sources claim Djamaluddin Tamin returned to Java to propagandize the party; he denies it. According to his account and that given by Malaka, none of the three Singapore leaders attempted to return to Indonesia in this period. The reason for this, outside of fear of being arrested, appears to have been that Malalca hoped that If he could get the PKI uecutive to convene with him In Singapore he could persuade it to stay in that city. Malalca and Subalcat bad urged this in letters to the party In Indonesia, declaring that if the drain of leaders through internment continued the party would not recover for another decade; Schrielce, "Political Section," p. 155. Some ol the correspondence between the Singapore and Bandung groups was found in a police raid on Suprodjo's house; according to the Nfeuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, Feb. 20, 1927, the argument was framed In theoretical concepts concerning the

480

Notes, pp. 329-330 party program and its plans for revolt; the two groups seemed to misunderstand each other completely. 29. Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 156; Schrieke, Notes, referring to a police report of Sept. 25, 1926. 30. Schrieke, "Political Section," pp. 156-157, note 128; Schrieke, Notu, citing a statement to the police by the PKI leader Marsudi. See also Allin [Alimin?]'s comment in "The Terror In Indonesia," lnpreC01T, Mar. 24, 1927, p. 429, that the progressive promise of the new governor general weakened the Indonesian revolutionary spirit. 31. Schrieke, Notes, citing Marsudi's statement to the police. According to Marsudi, a poll was taken in which Bantam, Batavia, Tjirebon, Pekalongan, Tega), Makassar, and all the Sumatran sections supported the proposal; Semarang, Kediri, Surabaja, the Priangan, and Magelang opposed it, Tjilatjap and Surakarta were undecided; and Banjumas, Jogjakarta, Rembang, Pasuruan, Besuki, and Madiun did not vote. The executive opposed the proposal on the grounds that it was still waiting for reports from Alimin, Musso, and Tan Malaka. 32. Schrielce, "Political Section," p. 156, citing a letter from Sardjono to Tan Malaka, dated Aug. 13, 1926. The PKI may actually have revised its plans. In June, it was reported, the original Prambanan strategy of a feint in Sumatra followed up by a major action in Java was abandoned, and Herujuwono was sent to visit the various PKI sections to work out a new plan of action with them; Nleuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, Dec. 28, 1926. 33. Schrielce, "Political · Section," p. 156. This may be the letter from Tan Mataka which Schrieke elsewhere refers to as having been dated Aug. 17, 1926; Schrieke, Reconmvctle oan de op.Ytand.,7ilannen In Augwtw-September le Cherlbon-Pekalongan-Tegal (Reconstruction of the Uprising Plans in AugustSeptember at Tjirebon-Pekalongan-Tegal) ( manuscript notes), p. l, hereafter cited as Recon.,tructie. 34. RePort of the Attorney General to the Resident of Sumatra's West Coast, Sept. 27, 1926, pp. 2-3, hereafter cited as RePort of the Attorney General, transmitting reports from a spy for the Netherlands Indies government who was hiE,!hly placed in the Singapore party councils. According to this source, Alimin and Musso had ordered the weapons; Tan Malaka had said there were 2,000 pistols In Singapore, 200 of them destined for Medan, 300 for Atjeh, and the rest for Surabaja; in Manila there were 2,000 pistols on order for Padang. Whether Malaka refused primarily on principle or because he could not pay for the weapons wa~ not stated. See also Ooerzicht SWK, p. 10. 35. Schrielce, Reconstructie, pp. 1-2; "Political Section," pp. 156-157. 36. Report of the Attorney General, p. 2. See also Schrieke, Notes and "Political Section," p. 157. This appeal was contained In a letter brought to Singapore on Sept. 10, 1926. According to Pemberontakan November 1928, pp. 75-76, .a committee to organize the West Sumatra revolt had been formed under the leadership of Mangkudun Sati. He approached the German assistant administrator of the Sawah Lunto coal mines about acquiring arms and found him ready to help supply revolvers and carbines. Lilcewise, the manager of a gun shop and the director of a firm In Medan, both Dutchmen, were willing to procure small arms. Other weapons were homemade; grenades were concocted with gunpowder purchased from Batavia and Surabaja. By the end of 1926, according to this account, over one thousand carbines, revolvers, ri8es, and homemade guns had been collected in West Sumatra, in addition to grenades, sharp weapons, and four automobiles.

481

Notes, pp. 331-332 37. Report of the Attorney General, p. 2; according to this account, MalaJca was then in Batu Pahat, Malaya. The meeting was attended by the Dutch spy in the Singapore PKI. The chairman of the "trading association" was Babusanah, treasurer Jusuf, secretary the Dutch spy, commissioners Salem and Marah, and propagandists Abdul Murad and Narbi. It was decided that Tan Malaka, Megas, Abdulkarim, and Suprodjo would be stationed at the Penang headquarters; Musso, Subalcat, and the spy would be in Singapore; Alimin, Budisutjltro, Ongko D, and Zainul Abidin would be in Johore; Umar and Bukera would be in Kota Tinggi; and Djamaluddin Tamin would be stationed either in Penang or Singa-

pore. 38. Report of the Attorney General, p. 2. According to the spy, Snprodjo (Bandung), Ong)co D (Surabaja), and Djamaluddin Tamin (Padang; he had gone to the Malay peninsula at the time the spy's report was written) were supposed to arrive in Singapore in a few days; also expected shortly were A. C. Salim ( Padang Pandjang) and Abdulkarim ( Atjeh). We know that Djamaluddin Tamin did return, but there is no sign that the others appeared or that the conference was ever held. A. C. Salim, who had been hiding from the law since Sept. 13, was arrested in Medan on Oct. 12; Schrieke, Note$. He may have been trying to make his way to Singapore. PKI leaders reported visiting Singapore in October were Murrad gelar Sutan Maharadja, Mahmud Sitjintjin ( Mohammad Jusuf), and Afandi; Schrieke, Note$. 39. Nleuwe Rotterdam«:he Courant, Dec. 28, 1926; Gehelme acffe de-r commrmutuche leide,$ ( Secret Action of the Comnnmlst Leaders) ( report of the local administration of Pelcalongan to the Resident of Pelcalongan, no. 1048/G, dated Pelcalongan. Oct. 27, 1928, typescript, classified), p. 2, hereafter dted as Gehelme acffe; letter from the Resident of Pelcalongan to the Attorney General in Weltevreden ( typescript, dated Pekalongan, Sept. 28, 1926, no. 1074, classified), pp. 1-2. Because the authorities had not exercised sufficient supervision, a great bac1clog in tu payment built up between 1921 and 1925. This was discovered by the internal revenue inspection in the middle of 1925, and payment was then demanded but generally not received. Forcible collections of all unpaid taxes were therefore begun in 1926, as a result of which there was considerable unrest. According to Pemberontakan Nooember 1926, pp. 69-70, Tegal, Tjirebon, and Pekalongan were linked by a regional commissariat headed by Abdulmuntalib. 40. Gehefme actfe, p. 2. According to this source, Tegal first conferred with the Tjfrebon section on this plan; Tjirebon advised Tegal to take the matter up with Bandung before proceeding further. See also Niet,we Rotterdanucht, Courant, Dec. 28, 1926. 41. Schrielce, Recorutructfe, p. l; Geheime actie, p. 2. 42. Schrielce, Reconstructie, p. l; Gehelme actie, p. 3. 43. Schrieke, Heconatrucffe, p. 2; Gehelme actie, pp. 3-4. Abdulmuntalib, who took Tegal's view, visited Batavia and Bantam and presumably also consulted with his own section in Tjirebon; Salimun went to Semarang (Sept. 7-8), Temanggung (Sept. 8-9), Jogjalcarta (Sept. 9-11, where he also oonsulted with a representative of Magelang), Suralwta (Sept. 11-13), and Madiun (Sept. 13-15). 44. Schrielce, Recondn,ctfe, p. 2; Gehelme aclie, pp. 4, 9; Nleuwe Rottef'daffl$che Courant, Dec. 28, 1926. 45. Gehelme actie, p. 4; Schrlelce, Reconatrucffe, p. 2. Winanta, the PKI treasurer and first DO leader, had been arrested In connection with the Batavia bomb incidents of August 1926; he was banished to New Guinea at the

482

Notes, pp. 333-3.34 beginning of September; Nleuwe Rotterdamsche Courant, Dec. 20, 1926. Herojuwono also used the names Herujono, Heromuljono, and Heropranoto. He had been- active in the party in Semarang and was editor-in-chief of Api when it took to admiring Bakunin; he had also been chairman of the PKI section in Pelcalongan and propagandist in Tegal. 46. Geheime actie, pp. 4, 9; Schrieke, Reconstructie, p. 2. 47. Geheime actie, pp. 4-5. It has been claimed that this plan had been entertained by Tegal ever since the end of August; Nleuwe Rotterdamsclie Courant, Dec. 28, 1006. On August 25, the authorities heard of an SR meeting in Tegal that had decided in favor of terrorist action; a few houses were burnt, but none of those responsible could be found; Letter from the Resident of Pelcalongan to the Attorney General, Sept. 28, 1926, p. 1. 48. Schrieke, Notes, from Sulcrawanata's statement to the police, Jan. 18, 1927; Schrieke, Recomlnlctie, p. l; Ongko D, statement dated Apr. 14, 1962, in Sudijcmo, P.Kl.-SIBAR contra Tan Malaka, pp. 65-66. A similar backlash appears to have been responsible for some of the violence involved in the Sarebt Hidjau the year before. In some areas of the Priangan, it was reported, people were led to expect that the revolution-the day wben the new order would begin, the land would be equally divided, and one would no longer have to pay taxes-would take place on Feb. 1, 1925; when nothing happened, they tumed on the local Communists. R. Kem, Oprichting van contra-vereemgingen tegen hee communisme, p. 7. The Batavia violence was called the Credit A~on ( Credit Alesi) by its sponsors, according to Ongko D's account; it was carried out chie8y by dfuar0-1 from the Kampung Karet neighborhood, and the Bandung executive apparently did not know of the decision to set it off. Party members who asked the Bandung leaders about the incident were told that it had no significance and that they should continue working as before. Ongko D, a Surabaja PKI leader, claimed that on the urging of that branch party secretary Ku.snogunoko was sent to Batavia to discuss the affair with the section leaders there, only to report back that local leaders refused to meet with him. 49. Schrieke, Notes, remarks that Sukrawinata told the authorities ho was quite aware that his view was in conBict with Malalca's analysis. According to Schrieke, "Political Section," p. 185, Sukrawinata declared that "it is not necessary that all the Netherlands Indies take part; it will be enough if Batavia acts, for it is the center of the government." Schrieke further says, R e ~ , p. 2, that Herojuwono was appointed as this committee's chief propagandist. The title is given in Dutch as Comite van de Revolutie and sometimes as Uitvoerende Comitc van de Revolutie ( Executive Committee of the Revolution) in documents of that time. It is possible that the latter refers to the Batavia group as head of the revolutionary committees set up by various other party branches on its urging. I have seen the Indonesian name Comite Pemberontak ( Rebellion Committee) used only in the recent PKI account Pemberontakan November 1926 and in the pro-Mataka reply by Sudijono, P.Kl.-SIBAR contra Tan Malaka. Neither of these histories (except for Onglco D's account given in the preceding footnote) imply that the revolutionary committees acted outside the approval of the Bandung executive; in fact, the PKI account states that Kusnogunolco was assigned to form them; Pemberontakan November 1926, p. 52. The PKI history asserts that the committees were set up to implement the Prambanan decision and, although it gives no date, implies that they were founded soon after that conference. However, all the activities referred to that I have been able to checlc took place just before the rebellion, so that it does not seem probable the

483

Notes, pp. 334-335 committees were founded before the dates given here or that they were the same as the 00. Both the PKI and pro-Malaka accounts have reasons for wishing to identify the committees with the regular party leadership: the PKI version because it wishes to stress party sponsorship of an important rebellion against the Dutch and because it seelcs to emphasize the enormity of Tan Mala1ca's opposition to the Prambanan decision; the pro-Mala1ca rejoinder because it wishes to underline the foolishness of those who would not listen to reason as revealed by Tan Malalca. What we know of events from accounts coutemporary to the rebellion makes it seem most unlikely that the Bandung executive as such sponsored or approved of the Batavia committee. However, the executive was not united; as we shall see, an attempt was made just before the Java revolt to replace Sardjono as chairman by the moderate vice-chairman Suprodjo. If the Bandung executive's retreat from rebellion reflected not a change of heart on Sardjono's part but a weakening of his power in that body (as seems probable, given his diehard adherence to the Prambanan project in earlier arguments), then an interesting alternative possibility arises. It is not inconceivable that Kusnogunoko, who is described in both PKI and pro-Mala1ca accounts as a principal ally of Sar