Sophia Hornbacher-Schönleber, University of Cambridge
COVID-19 is wreaking havoc in Indonesia. The government ignored the crisis for too long, relying on a dubious religious discourse of divine protection. When it finally reacted, its response was unsystematic and favored economic stability over health and welfare measures. Although the government has neither imposed a strict lockdown nor the state of emergency, it is clamping down on critics during the crisis.
Early on, there was widespread suspicion. Why were there no cases of Covid-19 in Indonesia, vigilant observers asked in February. Did the hot and humid climate slow the spread of the virus down, as some speculated? Or was one to be more skeptical like the WHO, urging the Indonesian government to make sure that no cases go undetected? In any case, Joko Widodo’s government firmly insisted that the virus had not yet reached the archipelago. Vice President Ma’ruf Amin, a leading figure of the influential Sufi organization Nahdlatul Ulama, in late February even ascribed the absence of cases to the “blessing of the prayers and supplications of all the kyai [religious leaders].” Other politicians assessed the situation similarly, suggesting that Indonesians were ‘stronger’ physically and spiritually than other nations and would therefore be spared.
Ignoring the Crisis Away
It seems that President Jokowi’s government wanted the idea of an invincible Indonesia to be true at all cost, despite the high-risk factors of both, international tourism and the strong interconnection with other Asian countries through labor migration. Hence, when the first cases were reported in Jakarta in early March, the government continued its laissez-faire attitude.
Eventually, the real scope of the outbreak in Jakarta became clear through the extreme excess mortality, measured in burials, and the excess cases of pneumonia. In March alone, the number of burials in the capital increased sharply by 57% (1600 cases) of the average, while only 84 deaths were confirmed as COVID-19 cases in the same period. Jakarta is particularly hard hit and to this day almost half of the recorded cases are located there, but the virus has long travelled to other regions on Java and more remote islands, where healthcare is much less widely available.
In mid-March, Jokowi finally admitted that he had deliberately held back data from the public so that the people would not panic. Residents of the Greater Jakarta area who I spoke to on the phone were outraged to hear this news, telling me how many of their neighbors, family, and friends were not taking the threat seriously and largely continuing their social activities as usual. It was not a question of panic, but one of public information and taking the appropriate steps, they said.
Indonesia has now 12,071 confirmed cases of COVID-19 (as of 05/05/2020). But the extraordinarily high ratio of confirmed deaths (872, i.e. 7.2% of all confirmed cases) suggests severe undertesting. Nonetheless, coordinating minister Luhut Pandjaitan insisted in mid-April that Indonesia was doing well, only facing a comparatively low number of cases in relation to its 270 million inhabitants, a position that has been sharply criticized by liberal and leftist activists who speak of disinformation and a voluntary misinterpretation of available statistical data.
Community Norms instead of Economic Policy?
As the reaction by the central government was slow, provincial governors as well as regents and mayors took action themselves. Due to their PSBB measures (large-scale social restrictions), primarily in Greater Jakarta, as well as the reduced consumption and the decreasing demand for manufactured goods of foreign enterprises, many formal and informal workers are now deprived of their main sources of income. During the first few weeks of the outbreak, president Joko Widodo did little to address the population’s urgent material needs, such as stocking up on medical equipment and introducing welfare programs. Instead, he relied on symbol politics, calling on people to “stay patient and optimistic” and further the spirit of gotong royong (mutual assistance), a supposedly traditional value that had been invoked by many a political predecessor. Under the authoritarian New Order government of president Suharto (1967-1998), this Javanese notion became particularly central, yet at the same time fossilized and stripped of the ideas it originally referred to: communal effort and generalized reciprocity in rural Javanese society.
But many Indonesians are far from patient and optimistic. Like during the New Order, Jokowi’s appeal to gotong royong largely seems to divert the responsibility from his government to the people. In the meantime, the President has finally succumbed to the public and political pressure and introduced some aid programs. Just in time before the beginning of the fasting month Ramadan, Jokowi furthermore took the drastic measure to ban mudik (returning to one’s family home), which he was long reluctant to do. Observers have mainly ascribed this to his fear of alienating Islamic gatekeepers – and by extension their mass followership. Mudik during Ramadan and especially just before Idul Fitri, its celebratory end, annually causes large numbers of Indonesians to travel to their places of home, around 20 million alone from the Greater Jakarta region. The ban came late, however, with 7% of the population already having left for mudik.
Erratic Support, Lack of Protection
Among other programs, 2.6 million families in Jakarta and 1.6 million more in the Greater Jakarta region are now eligible for packages of staple food worth 600,000 IDR per month and 9 million residents in other regions for the equivalent in cash. Some aid packages were primarily distributed to drivers of online motorbike taxis (Ojol), who today make up a large number of the informal labor force in Jakarta. This has sparked criticism by other economically vulnerable groups who regard this as favoritism of an influential group. Labor activist Jumisih points out that many people are not eligible for the government’s aid because they are not officially registered in Jakarta or its satellite cities. She also reports that workers have not received help, despite having registered with their neighborhood head. Activists are now concerned that this could evoke social envy among the poor population.
Furthermore, the example of Ojol drivers shows how unsystematic the government has approached the situation, for it still allows drivers to carry customers despite social distancing measures. Similarly, large-scale religious events (by Islamic and Christian groups) were still held after the outbreak of the virus, some involving international participants. They are feared to have contributed to the spread of the virus significantly. Even the national council of Islamic scholars MUI allowed precious time to pass before they finally announced that prayers at mosques should be stopped and held at home instead.
Certainly, Jokowi’s government is in a difficult situation. The crisis unveils and exacerbates many pre-existing problems that are brought to the fore by this crisis. The president’s reluctance to implement a full lockdown is understandable from an economic perspective as such a measure would also hit the most precarious social groups the hardest. This is particularly true in Jakarta and other big cities, where their options to grow additional food themselves or access it through kinship ties are low.
Activist Responses
Nonetheless, the irresponsiveness of the government and its prioritization of the national economy has infuriated social justice activists. They criticize the lack of support for the poorer segments of society, many of whom are not only losing their jobs, but also cannot afford their rent anymore. “It’s a matter of priority! The money is there”, an activist sarcastically remarked during a video call, “but Jokowi would rather give influencers 72 billion Rupiah (4.3 million Euro) than investing it in people’s needs”. Indeed, in late February, the president decided to pay influencers this sum to promote Indonesia as a tourist destination when numbers of international travel, especially from China, went down. This was part of a larger additional package of about 18 million Euro, poured into the tourism sector. In comparison, the overall food aid budget for 4.2 million residents of Jakarta and its satellite cities over the course of three months is 3.2 billion Rupiah (190.000 Euro) and the total budget the government has allocated for health care, social protection, tax incentives, business credits, and the recovery of the economy adds up to 405 billion Rupiah (26.8 million Euro).
Various civil society groups, including religious organizations have started aid campaigns, such as distributing food to the urban poor or financing shelters for them to help fulfil the most urgent needs. Furthermore, there have been efforts by labor unions and federations, such as FBLP (Federation of Workers across Factories), to organize mutual aid networks, but because the mass layoffs affect so many workers, the majority cannot afford to support others.
A Deeper Crisis
Pointing out the limits of mutual aid, many leftist activists in Indonesia argue that now is the time to go beyond satisfying the essential material needs, and to mainstream a critical perspective on the government and capitalism more generally. Many activist groups are organizing online seminars and discussions on the COVID19-crisis as well as other pressing political issues. One of the leading activists in leftist Muslim circles, a respected young kyai, in mid-April published a widely shared statement on Facebook in which he expresses concern about the withdrawal to the private realm. On the one hand, he acknowledges the necessity to reduce physical social interactions to get the virus under control. On the other hand, he claims it may lead to ‘social ghettoization’ and a lack of care for social groups most affected. He further worries:
“Indonesia has the potential to fall into ‘chaos’ at the moment. This ‘chaos’ is sparked by the frustration felt by the urban poor, of the workers whose contracts are now terminated, of whom there are now more than a million and also by those citizens who are not covered by the ‘social’ help scheme of the government.”
In the midst of this chaos, the government flexes its muscle by cracking down on leftist and pro-democracy activists. In Malang, East Java, three student activists were arrested and accused of vandalism and ‘public incitement’ against capitalism, an offence punishable by up to 10 years. The activists were regular participants in the nation-wide silent Kamisan vigils demanding a state response to human rights abuses, held every Thursday night. In addition, they supported peasants in nearby Tegalrejo in their land conflict with a corporation as well as peasants and fisherfolk in Banyuwangi against a gold mining company.. Similarly, Ravio Patra an independent researcher and activist for democracy and transparency, was suddenly arrested on charges of spreading hate speech on 23rd of April. He had previously suspected that his WhatsApp account had been hacked and his accommodation staked out. Ravio has been released since, but there are still investigations against him as an alleged provocateur calling for protests against a so-called Omnibus bill. The draft has been met with resistance by civil society actors since its release months ago for weakening environmental standards as well as labor rights. In both cases, no arrest warrant was presented. In another instance, plain-clothes police officers intimidated the ‘Food Solidarity’ (Solidaritas Pangan) welfare kitchen run by long-standing activist and researcher Ita Fatia Nadia in Yogyakarta to support those enduring hardship during the pandemic.
Crises produce conflicts and polarizations. The pandemic brings existing problems of social injustice and welfare to light and demonstrates that the government’s populist and ostentatiously Islamic rhetoric, paired with neo-liberal policy is not providing a substantial response to them. COVID-19, thus, has the potential to re-politicize the Indonesian public and expose the government’s unbridled extractivist capitalism (e.g. Bello 2020). However, the crisis could also lead to the opposite outcome, as it provides the government with an excuse to curb democratic rights and repress critical voices ever more vehemently.
Sophia Hornbacher-Schönleber is a PhD candidate in Social Anthropology at the University of Cambridge. She is writing up her thesis about leftist Muslim activists in Indonesia, who engage Islamic theology in favor of social justice and sovereignty over natural resources. Prior to that she studied Social and Cultural Anthropology and Philosophy in Freiburg and Frankfurt.
Bibliography
Bello, Walden 2020. ‘Never Let a Good Crisis Go to Waste’: The Covid-19 Pandemic and the Opportunity for Food Sovereignty. Amsterdam/Bangkok: Transnational Institute.
Cite as: Hornbacher-Schönleber, Sophia. 2020. “‘A Matter of Priority’: The Covid-19 Crisis in Indonesia.” FocaalBlog, 11 May. http://www.focaalblog.com/2020/05/11/sophia-hornbacher-schonleber-a-matter-of-priority-the-covid-19-crisis-in-indonesia/