I was on my way to Betawi to continue my schooling. After I graduated I would become a government doctor, curing the sick employees of the state. They must be able to carry on their work for the government. And the government, in its turn, would ensure the health of the capital. Is that all that will become of me in the future? An insignificant expender of energy in the interests of capital?
I had not finished with my thoughts. The writing still stood on the paper, gaping open-mouthed. I had not closed it with a full stop when he came to my cabin. He invited me to eat with him.
On leaving the cabin I realized it was already night.
Dinner in the second-class dining room was all European. My appetite died. Ter Haar, on the other hand, ate happily and lustily.
“You don’t like European food very much,” he said. “Yes, food is a matter of habit. I still to this day prefer pears to bananas.”
Back up on the deck, however, it was I who began: “Mr. Ter Haar, why did Mr. Nijman and his paper treat Khouw Ah Soe as an enemy?”
“You mean the Chinese immigrant murdered at the Red Bridge?”
He didn’t know what had happened, so I told him.
“Mr. Minke,” he began, “the situation is now safe, calm, and orderly for big capital. People can get on with their work without any significant disturbances. Khouw Ah Soe and his Young Generation might have influenced the Chinese in the Indies, might have had some influence generally. If society is disturbed, then trade will most surely be disturbed as well, and prices too.”
“But there are always disturbances.” I told him about the troubles of the peasant farmers in Tulangan, about which he already knew.
“Peasant rebellion is meaningless, Mr. Minke.”
“But the situation is disturbed too.”
“Such small upsets are already calculated as part of general production costs.” Now he seemed to try very hard not to lecture. “What kind of power do those peasants without capital have?
How much damage can they do? It won’t cost the companies more than twenty sacks of sugar to put things back in order.” He laughed. “What’s twenty sacks compared to five thousand? The peasants will be put down. It takes a week at the most. Then they return to their original state. But, Mr. Tollenaar, if the people themselves change…things will never be the same. The conditions of life will begin to change also, slowly moving further and further away from the original situation.”
“But it wouldn’t be the farmers, but the Chinese that changed, that is, if Khouw Ah Soe had indeed succeeded in his efforts.”
“It’s not as simple as that. All kinds of people influence one another—even into their kitchens. Perhaps you yourself are already a lover of bean curd, and noodles without ever feeling you have been influenced by another race. And not just the Natives of the Indies, but the peoples of Europe too. People use spoons and forks, eat spaghetti and macaroni—all influences from China. Everything that gives pleasure to mankind, everything that does away with mankind’s suffering and boredom, everything that lessens his fatigue, will, in these times, be copied by the whole world. That young sinkeh too. He and his friends were only trying to copy the United States and France. In the end so too will the Natives of the Indies. And if the Natives started on that path, then soon there would be no more comfortable place for big capital in the Indies.”
This last exposition of his was easier for me to follow and helped explain what had been said earlier. A spot of light appeared to expose the way ahead so I could travel it without the aid of others.
Before us, the island of Java was swallowed up by the darkness. Here and there were lights like yellow-reddish fireflies. There was life there, the greater family of my people. They were not allowed to copy America or France, either directly or through the influence of others; they have to stay in their present state forever.
“They are the source of earnings for big capital,” Ter Haar went on. “Everything must be turned into a source of profit. From every inch of thread that is sewn into a torn garment, from every stride that makes itself felt on the earth. And in the towns of Europe and America, from every mouthful of water. Maybe in the
future they will take profits too from each cubic inch of air we breathe.”
Abruptly the tone of his voice changed. Stingingly: “Do you know anything about the Indies’ close neighbor, the Philippines?”
“A little. They rebelled against the Spanish colonization, then against America.”
“Where did you hear that? It has never been reported here in the newspapers.”
“Just by coincidence, Mr. Ter Haar,” I answered. I could not say anything else, not because of the subject itself but because my source was Khouw Ah Soe. I still had his letter in my suitcase.
“News from the Philippines is very scarce. It seems the government feels it has to restrict such reports.” Ter Haar’s words came forth more and more quickly, more enthusiastically; he seemed now to be expounding his own beliefs: “The government is afraid that if the Indies Natives find out a lot about what’s happening, about how far the Filipino Natives have progressed under Spanish rule, they would be ashamed.
“Many Filipinos are educated, really educated,” he went on. “Already some are graduates. And the Indies Natives? Just a handful sit on the benches of universities in Holland. There is still not one graduate in all of the Indies. Public schools are not even three-quarters of a century old. In the Philippines, they have been going for almost three hundred years. In the Indies ninety-nine percent of Natives are illiterate. In the Philippines it is ten percent less than that.”
Such progress. The Filipino natives were closer to European science and learning, closer to understanding the power that rested with the European peoples, to knowing how to use that power, and so they rebelled. They had changed as human beings because of European education. They could never return to being the Natives of earlier times. And the government of the Netherlands Indies was worried that the educated Natives of the Indies would find out that the Filipino rebellion against the Spanish was led by educated Filipinos and was no mere peasant disturbance like that in Tulangan.
Before the rebellion itself took place, he went on, the port workers in the Philippines harbors refused to work. Coolies refusing to work! I thought, amazed. In a flash I remembered something
like that being reported in the newspapers here, something they gave the name of “work desertion” and in Holland “striking.”
“The Filipinos have already carried out strikes,” said Ter Haar. “But their rebellion is even more interesting; it rocked all of Europe, including Holland, Mr. Minke.” He hurriedly lit another cigarette. “They’re all busy studying why it happened so they can make sure nothing similar occurs in their own colonies. A friend of mine knew one of the Native leaders there, someone called Dr. José Rizal. My friend met him in Prague. Rizal was a poet, very brilliant, and a fiery lover also. The Spanish caught him in the end. A great pity—someone as outstanding as that. His faith wasn’t strong enough. A pity.” He smacked his lips. “Of course there can be no doubt now about his fate: The death sentence ended his life story. Someone as cultivated as that, writing poems in Spanish, just as you write in Dutch. A doctor, Mr. Tollenaar, and you too intend to become a doctor. Perhaps that is no coincidence.”
“Somebody educated, a doctor, a poet…rebelling…”
“Maybe the Dutch are cleverer than the Spanish. There has never been any rebellion by educated Natives against the Dutch here. Here the educated Natives always follow the Dutch. The Indies is not the Philippines, Holland isn’t Spain.”
“And he was sentenced to death?” I was reminded of Khouw Ah Soe.
“That’s right. The Spanish military are famed for their viciousness.”
An educated person had rebelled against his own teachers—indeed there had never been anything like that in the Indies.
“And then even when isolated from his comrades, José Rizal did not stand alone. So many, so very many people loved him, because with all his knowledge and learning, he loved his own people so much. Many prominent people, clever people in Europe pleaded with the Spanish government to pardon that brilliant, educated Filipino.”
“What did he want to achieve with this rebellion?”
“You don’t know? He wanted his people not to be ruled by the Spanish. He wanted them to rule themselves. A pity”—he made noises with his lips again—“that inexperienced people in the end became the victims of an alliance between Spain and America.”
“I don’t really understand, Mr. Ter Haar. How could they rule themselves? You mean the educated Natives would replace the Spanish and the Americans to govern their own people?”
“Of course, that’s what they wanted. National independence.”
I conjured up in my imagination the kings and bupatis of Java, mad with their lust for power, making people bow down and crawl before them, give obeisance to them, do their pleasure. And no guarantee that they would be better educated than those they ordered about. I shook my head. Even to imagine the Filipinos governing without white people was beyond me. And here, on my own earth to think of such a thing! To make any sense of it at all was impossible. Without the power of the whites the kings of Java would soon be mobilizing every single inhabitant in the effort to annihilate each other, each trying to emerge the sole triumphant ruler. Wasn’t that our history for centuries?
“What’s the matter?” Ter Haar reacted to my brief silence.
“And what would happen if the Native kings held power again? Imagine how the educated groups would suffer, Mr. Ter Haar.”
“No. The Filipinos intend to govern along American and French lines: a republic—that is, if they won. In such a great awakening as that there were of course many leaders whose thinking was European, and a modern organization also. Not like the peasants of Tulangan. There was an organization that was the engine of opposition.”
“A modern organization?”
“So you are not familiar with the idea of a modern organization?” Now it was he who shook his head.
I couldn’t see his face clearly. The evening darkness provided him with a good disguise. Perhaps he was pitying me, a graduate who didn’t know about modern organizations! Probably Nyai Ontosoroh would have understood and been able to explain it clearly. But truly, I didn’t understand. I stayed silent, no more questions; shame and embarrassment enveloped me now.
The drumming of the ship’s motor shook everything inside my body, even my thoughts.
“In the end,” Ter Haar went on, “the more European science and learning Natives obtain, whatever their race or nation, the more it is certain they will follow in the footsteps of the Filipino
Natives, trying to free themselves from European rule. The Filipino Natives wanted to stand up themselves as a free nation, as Japan does now, acknowledged by all the civilized nations of the world.”
“And you include the Indies in this prediction?”
“Of course, though who knows when? And to prevent such a thing from occurring, or at least to postpone it, the government here is especially miserly in handing out European education. Science and learning are sold at the highest price. But there can be no doubt that the Netherlands Indies will arrive at that point one day, as the numbers of educated grow. That day will arrive, perhaps as predicted by Sentot. You know that name?”
“You mean Multatuli’s friend?”
“Yes. Let’s walk. Standing here is not healthy, especially for a smoker like me.”
Perhaps he thought I wasn’t following him; he moved on to another subject, but then turned back: “One day when you have read and studied more, you will understand better than you do now.”
“The Indies, Mr. Ter Haar,” I said, because I didn’t feel comfortable just listening and never contributing any words, “has been confronted with the rifles and cannons of the Dutch army for three centuries and has always been defeated.” All of a sudden I remembered the story of Untung Surapati, who had won. “Only a few times have we won, but then only momentarily.”
He laughed affably. “Naturally, because those Natives were still back in the Middle Ages, or perhaps even earlier—maybe you could say the Stone Age. But if the Indies Natives—just one percent—could master European science and learning—even less than one percent, one tenth of one percent—those changed human beings could start changing their society; then their whole people would change. Especially if they had some capital as well. The rifles and cannons of the army do not have the power to hold back change, Mr. Tollenaar. Even if their numbers are small, if one class rises in rebellion, even the smallest nation will rise up along with them. You remember the Eighty Years’ War, don’t you? What was Holland compared with Spain at that time? But once Holland had risen, even Spain had to admit defeat. Do you know about Mexico?”
“No.”
“The first conquered people to defeat their masters, the Spanish. What was the significance of the Mexican Natives compared to Spain then? But once a group rises up, once a nation rises up, its power cannot be dammed up any longer. It cannot, Mr. Minke.”
“You seem to believe the same thing will happen in the Indies too.”
“I’m not talking to you like this without reason.”
“Such a thing won’t make the Dutch nation happy, including yourself,” I said.
“I believe in the French Revolution, Mr. Tollenaar: Liberty, Equality, Fraternity—not just for ourselves, as is now the case on the European continent and in America, but for everyone, for all nations upon this earth. The true liberal point of view, Mr. Minke.”
“But France herself has colonies in Africa and Asia and the Americas.”
“That is France’s, and Europe’s, wrongdoing. But the shout of the revolution remains as grand as always. It was created from French blood, tears, and pain, and French lives.”
“You amaze me, Mr. Ter Haar.”
“I’m proud to be a liberal, Mr. Minke, a liberal who sees things through. Yes, others call this sort of view ‘extreme liberal.’ Not just disliking being oppressed, but also disliking oppressing. And, indeed, more than that: disliking oppression anywhere.”
It was far into the evening when I returned to my cabin. I noted down only the main points Ter Haar had discussed, including those I didn’t yet fully understand. Totally exhausted, I laid myself down on the upper berth. The others in my cabin had long been asleep. And I was absolutely sure that in a moment I too would be blessed with a health-giving sleep.