Manfred Zaumseil, Mechthild von Vacano and Silke Schwarz
Our book argues that research on coping with disaster should be grounded in a local setting, integrating a local sociocultural, political, and historical context and making use of any ethnographic literature available. In Part II–IV of our book, we base our theoretical argument for a cultural psychology of coping with disaster on a particular case study of the 2006 Java earthquake. This chapter introduces readers to the sociocultural research setting of Java and the specific earthquake event. It can also be read as an example of how to account for the local context in cultural psychological research on disaster coping.
Ethnographic literature of Java is rich and diverse, and reviewing this literature requires critical reading. Much has been written about Java, and academics have debated about representations of “culture” and the reproduction of power structures in research. A brief review of the available literature on Java would offer both a backdrop for getting acquainted with the research site and a meta-reflection on dealing with culture. At the same time, any endeavor to write a single chapter on the sociocultural context of Java is inevitably selective and cannot account for the complexity and historical depth of many dynamics.
Our empirical study is based on a case study of three villages in the Bantul District of the Special Province of Yogyakarta that, together with Klaten (in the neighboring Province of Central Java), was most severely affected by the 2006 earthquake. In the following sections, we contextualize the sociopolitical setting of our research and introduce the readers to the broader scenario of the 2006 earthquake in Java. We
M. Zaumseil ()· S. Schwarz
International Academy for Innovative Pedagogy, Psychology and Economics gGmbH at Freie Universität Berlin, Malteserstr 74-100, 12249 Berlin, Germany
e-mail: zaumseil@zedat.fu-berlin.de M. von Vacano
Institute for Social and Cultural Anthropology
Freie Universität Berlin, Landoltweg 9-11, 14195 Berlin, Germany e-mail: m.vacano@fu-berlin.de
S. Schwarz
e-mail: silke.schwarz@fu-berlin.de; silgnschwarz@yahoo.de
M. Zaumseil et al. (eds.), Cultural Psychology of Coping with Disasters, 105 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-9354-9_4, © Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2014
then reflect on the selection criteria of our research sites (Mulya Sari, Sendang, and Sido Kabul) and characterize these rural communities in regard to socioeconomic structures and the damage caused by the 2006 earthquake.
4.1 Introduction to the Ethnographic Setting
Cultural representations of “Java” and “Javaneseness” are a highly politicized field, which needs to be interpreted against a postcolonial backdrop of regional, national, and global (power) dynamics. Contemporary self-representations of the Javanese culture fall into a contested arena, where multiple actors compete to define their particular normative understanding of being Javanese. Ethnographic literature has tended toward orientalist representations of Java as a refined, mystical “other” in comparison to an (implicit) image of “rational” Europe. In classical ethnographic writings, the “Javanese” have been over-generalized and -typified, as in the interpre-tative approach of Clifford Geertz (1973) and many of his followers. This approach excludes cultural dynamics, inner diversity, and external influences from the scien-tific endeavor. Reflecting on postcolonial critiques on the concept of culture, authors such as Pemberton (1994), Boellstorff (2002), and Antlöv and Hellman (2005) have rejected the monolithic and seemingly timeless representations of the Javanese cul-ture. They point out the risk such a research poses in reproducing the cultural images of state propaganda in favor of the ruling elites, for example, in regard to the notions of social harmony and acceptance. In a third wave of criticism, Bråten (2005) and Stange (1991) accused the discussion about the hidden purposes behind the construc-tion of “Java” and the “Javanese” of being too academic and “Western.” They call for a focus on the real experience of life and human engagement in Java, based on a dialog between those who live “Javanese” lives (including scholars and nonscholars) and outside researchers (Bråten2005). Our research project follows the suggestion of conducting careful empirical work in a transcultural research dialog without the ambition of painting a clear-cut picture of Java or “the Javanese self.” Nevertheless, for theoretical sensitization (in the framework of grounded theory), it is important to be familiar with the existing ideas and representations of “Java” and the “Javanese.”
4.1.1 A Glimpse into Indonesia’s National History
As is the case in many postcolonial states, the territory that is today referred to as
“Indonesia” is a product of anticolonial struggle, in Indonesia’s case against Dutch rule. Given the vast extent of the islands and the plurality of ethnic identities and languages they encompass, cultural plurality and national unity form a dynamic ten-sion, as expressed in the national slogan of “Unity in Diversity.” Since the early formation of Indonesian nationalism at the beginning of the twentieth century, Java and the Javanese culture have occupied a privileged position within the multicul-tural state and have been construed as a superior culmulticul-tural resource (see Woodward 2011; Li2000). Key concepts of national ideology and political rule drew heavily
from Javanese cosmologies. For example, Indonesia’s first president and national hero, Sukarno (1945–1967), was frequently referred to as a just king (ratu adil), a common cultural image of a promised ruler to bring prosperity and peace (see Antlöv 2005). Later, during president Suharto’s authoritarian New Order regime (1967–1998), these Javanized concepts of a harmonious nationhood were spread systematically through political indoctrination in school education and obligatory training courses for university students and civil servants (see Antlöv2005).
During this period, the political elites of the New Order defined Indonesia as a pancasila democracy1as opposed to a Western democracy. Their version of democ-racy emphasized the harmonious interaction between different societal groups, which was protectively guarded by the military and ruled by a wise and caring president as “father” of the nation (see Antlöv2005). The cynicism of this idyllic vision of political life becomes obvious when considering the fact that the New Order regime was based on the massacre of between 200,000 and 1 million people in 1965–1966 (historians disagree on the exact numbers) (Cribb2002). The outburst of violence was directed against everyone presumed to be a “communist,” including members of the ethnic Chinese minority and “godless” kejawen Muslims (see later). During the New Order regime itself, the ideology of “harmony” was enforced through sub-stantial limitations of political freedom and violent repressive measures against any opposition to the system. The regime restricted political life to three political parties, and village residents were forbidden to engage in any political activity, as they were construed as dangerous “floating masses.” This systematic depolitization of “the masses” was legitimized by anticommunist propaganda and the stereotype of rural populations being especially vulnerable to (communist) political manipulation, thus not capable of being political subjects. Political Islam was perceived as another threat to national peace and the militarist political rule and therefore forced into a minor role during the New Order regime. Capitalist economic development was instilled as a key national value; however, the developmental benefits concentrated on Java, especially the capital Jakarta, while other regions were reduced to the role of sup-pliers, primarily of natural resources and export products. Thus, Java was privileged not only culturally, but also economically.
In 1998, after nationwide demonstrations, President Suharto resigned and the New Order regime came to an end, followed by a process of democratization and decentralization. Soon after, a myriad of social and political groups, embracing their newly gained political freedom, began publicly articulating their interests. These groups included secular human rights groups, indigenous people’s movements, tra-ditionalist revivalists, orthodox political Islamic groups, and seemingly everything in between. Public controversies on the core values of Indonesian society increased. At the same time, violent conflicts in various regions of Indonesia broke out (see Henley
1Having its etymological origins in an old Javanese language, pancasila stands for the na-tional formula of five principles upon which the Indonesian Constitution is based: belief in the one and only God; just and civilized humanity; unity of the nation; democracy “guided by the inner wisdom in the unanimity arising out of deliberations amongst representatives”;
and social justice (unofficial translation of the 1945 Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia, see http://www.embassyofindonesia.org/about/pdf/IndonesianConstitution.pdf. Accessed 30 June 2013).
and Davidson2008). Despite the changes and formal democratization, the end of the New Order was only a partial regime change, because many personnel continued in various levels of the military and bureaucracy (Heryanto2004). Decades of depoliti-zation and the recent disappointments with post-New Order democracy (corruption, persistent economic hardship, and violent conflicts) have left their marks on many Indonesian citizens in relation to “politics.” Many still share a deep-rooted skepti-cism against any overt political activism. This, however, does not mean that they lack strong (political) opinions on the state of society. If researchers want to gain an understanding of current village dynamics, they must consider these historical effects and the multidirectional processes of the post-Suharto era.
4.1.2 Characteristics of Religious Life
Religion (agama) was a key component of the developmentalist New Order ide-ology. Every citizen needed to affiliate with one of the five recognized religions:
Islam, Protestant Christianity, Roman Catholic Christianity, Hinduism, and Bud-dhism (Woodward2011). Anyone one who did not at least nominally affiliate with one of these religions was officially marked as “not having a religion yet” (belum beragama). As this wording indicates, having a proper religion was construed as progressive and modern. In contrast, alternative religions were associated with back-wardness and atheism (or any suspicion thereof), with the enemy stereotype of
“godless communism.” Woodward (2011) argues that the official criteria against which religions were to be measured were implicitly Islamic. The criteria included
“an all-encompassing way of life governed by fixed statutes, belief in the oneness or unity of God, a Holy Book, and a prophet to whom knowledge of the above was revealed” (p. 7). While Protestantism and Catholicism fulfill these normative criteria, creative interpretation was required in order to encompass Hinduism and Buddhism.2 But the definition successfully discredited a myriad of regional religions, including the mystic Javanism or kejawen (Henley and Davidson2008).3
According to the 2010 national census, 95 % of the population in Java adhere to Islam and a minority 3 % to Christianity (BPS2011). Thus, official statistics suggest an almost mono-religious composition and fail to capture the various, and potentially conflicting, ways of interpreting and living Islam in Java. Anthropologi-cal scholarship has generated elaborate debates on classificatory schemes grasping these varieties of Islam in Java,4mainly agreeing with regard to one major distinc-tion, which is the relative importance of kejawen elements within Muslim practice.
2For an exemplarily account on how Balinese Hinduism was reshaped to come close to these criteria see Howe (2005).
3These narrow categories of agama persist; however, Confucianism has been included into the list as part of slow steps toward recognizing the ethnic Chinese minority in Indonesia in post-Suharto Indonesia (see Schlehe2011).
4Clifford Geertz popularized the distinction between orthodox Muslims (santri) and nominal Mus-lims, who only formally acknowledge Islam while adhering to older Javanese religious and ancestral
The term kejawen, or Javanism, refers to cosmologies and practices that are articu-lated as “real” Javanese tradition. For a long time they have been characterized as pre-Islamic, Hindu, and Buddhist inspired, though Woodward (1989, 2011) chal-lenged this notion by revealing Sufi Islamic elements in kejawen. While clear-cut classifications of religious varieties in Java (for example, Geertz1960) have proven insupportable, it seems productive to understand orthodox Islam and kejawen Islam as two referential resources for Muslim life in Java, where some people rely more on the former and other people more on the latter. Ricklefs (1979) has argued for multiple shades of grey between the polar ends and Beatty (1999) suggested a great variety within “Javanism” and “practical Islam” in the countryside, with fluent tran-sition in between. He further emphasized the dynamic interplay between these two poles as the particular characteristic of religion in Javanese rural life.
When orthodox Islam and kejawen are contrasted, the former is generally charac-terized by an emphasis on religious obligations, regular prayer and the submission of the believers to Allah as a higher, distant omnipotent God (see Beatty 1999).
Another key element is the merit logic of potential reward for good believers in this life or afterlife. With regard to life conduct and guiding ethical principles, the orthodox Islamic scheme is characterized by religious rules classifying actions as
“recommended, neutral, disapproved and forbidden” (Beatty1999, p. 182, refer-ring to Levy 1969). These rules and distinct guiding principles can be derived from religious sources of the Quran or its interpretations by religious leaders.
Kejawen, on the other hand, is portrayed as the complete opposite of orthodox Islam. Kejawen followers locate God in the heart of humans, as humans are “fun-damentally part of the Divine essence” (Mulder1983, p. 11). Accordingly, formal prayer, such as the five daily prayers, and mosque attendance play a subordinate role, because religious experience and practice is inherent in any aspect of life. The human existence itself is seen as a religious experience. Kejawen morality and codes of conduct are not guided by external authorities, such as God or religious lead-ers. Wisdom and guidance is found in self-reflection and insight into the ultimate (divine) oneness of life. There are no external criteria to judge human actions or for judging other people’s behavior (Anderson1990/1972). Beatty (1999) highlights that Javanists value “internally motivated acts” over obligations: “What comes from oneself and is freely given is superior to what is done to order” (p. 182). Within kejawen, Islam further integrates the belief in a world animated by spirits (Schlehe 2006) which are addressed in various rituals–a practice which orthodox Muslims would refuse as idolatry.
The difference between orthodox Islam and kejawen, as commonly portrayed in ethnographic literatures, can be summarized in the following way:
traditions (abangan). As a third category he identified the religious practices of the urban gentry elites (priyayi) as a noble version of kejawen (Islam). Koentjaraningrat (1985) differentiates be-tween a “syncretistic variant of Javanese Islam, in which pre-Hinduistic, Hinduistic and Islamic elements are combined into one integrated system” (the agami Jawi Islam) and a “more puritan variant of Javanese Islam” (p. 316).
Where Islam promises heaven through ritual compliance and devotion to the Koran, Javanism (kejawen) takes the everyday world as its key text and the body as its holy book. (Beatty 1999, p. 158)
This binary of orthodox Islam and kejawen, however, should be seen as a con-tinuum rather than opposites. In his study on the village of Banyuwangi in Eastern Java, Beatty has shown that most people fall somewhere between the poles. Other authors have pointed to the need to further differentiate the two categories.5
According to official state policy, kejawen Islam is not recognized as an official religion (agama), but can formally be practiced as culture (kebudayaan) (Woodward 2011). From a research perspective, it is important not to reproduce such normative and exclusive definitions of religion. Therefore, we refer to a broad anthropological understanding of religion as “the ways in which people link up with, or even feel touched by, a meta-empirical sphere that may be glossed as supernatural, sacred, divine or transcendental" (Meyer2006, p. 6). This definition allows an inclusive understanding of religion, crucial for an open qualitative approach.