Indonesian language in Australia: Does it really matter?

Donard Games, Perth, australia | Opinion | Sat, October 27 2012, 9:27 AM

Paper Edition | Page: 6

A survey conducted by Australia-Indonesia Youth Association (AIYA) earlier this year identified that 40 percent of employers in Australia did not value Indonesian studies.

Indonesian literacy is also less appreciated by employers. In fact, some Australian universities have also ended their Indonesian language studies because of a lack of students.

Curtin, Griffith and Queensland University of Technology have all closed courses and it will not be surprising if other universities will follow suit. Why does it happen? We want to know whether they think Indonesian courses are not important nowadays. Is that really the issue? If yes, what can be done to overcome this problem?

Some years ago, I asked one of my Australian friends who studied Indonesian history for her master’s degree at The University of Queensland, “Why did you choose to study Indonesian?” she answered, “I love languages, and I have studied the Indonesian language together with other languages. I see Indonesia as an important country, so, why not?”

She emphasized two key points — language and Indonesia’s strategic position. In terms of the number of people who speak and understand the language, we can courageously say that Indonesian is a major language in the world.

Australia is Indonesia’s largest neighboring country that has western backgrounds. As such, the existence of Indonesian studies can be seen as representative of the Australian’s acceptance to the importance of Indonesia.

Indonesian Students Association in Australia (PPIA) Western Australia organized the Indonesian Speech Contest 2012 that invited Australian students from high schools and universities as participants.

Some of the students said one of main reasons why Australian students are reluctant to study Indonesian is simply about a lack of job and business opportunities compared to those offered to graduates who master German and Spanish.

Is it really a problem?

I believe that the Indonesian language should be enthusiastically promoted to the world because we want to share our culture and knowledge. Hence, we also need to learn other languages.

However, I also believe that we Indonesians need to work harder to prove that we have something to share. It is good to deliver the message that we have a rich culture as well as a history of being a peaceful and tolerant country. However, we do need to prove that we can be a center of growth as well as a peaceful country nowadays.

The Youth Pledge of 1928 has given us a valuable lesson to learn even today. In my perspective, to declare that Indonesia, even before its proclamation of independence, should have a uniting language is a great achievement.

The language unites us as a nation and I am always proud to see that from Aceh to Papua, people speak and understand this language.

We do, however, need to evaluate ourselves first. Have we used our language correctly and do we see it as part of our national identity?

I have to explain our language to my Australian friends who are confused with ubiquitous Indonesian slang used on Indonesian television. In a broader view, we also need to build our own confidence in our language.

From a long-term perspective, we need to reach an objective to become a center of economic growth. Many foreign researchers are optimistic about the future of Indonesia, while we have less confidence in that regard. This may be related to the fact that we fail to see the bigger picture in our routine experiences.

In the short term, we need to enhance our diplomatic skills. Here we are inferior. For example, sometimes we are too naive to focus on economic issues, while we know that other issues can have a significant impact on both countries. We witness the Australian government, indeed, sacrificing their economy in response to violation of animal rights in Indonesia’s abattoirs.

There are many Indonesian students in Australia (around 18,000 students), but we do not know the number of Australian students in Indonesia. There are some well-known scholarships awarded by the Australian government for Indonesian students every year, but many of us do not know how many Australian students decide to go to Indonesia every year.

I look forward to seeing my dream; that many young Australian lecturers choose to spend some time in Indonesian universities to teach or for publishing joint research, come true.

In addition, I believe that we can lure more Australians to learn the Indonesian language. For example, Indonesian diplomats can work together with Indonesian students. An initiative from PPIA Western Australia is a good example.

Despite their busy schedules, Indonesian students help campaign the language, which is therefore an asset to the promotion of Indonesia and its culture.

Another alternative is to simply ignore the phenomenon of the decline of Australian students who choose to study the Indonesian language. In a free market, the demand will be high if Indonesia’s economy grows.

Let us contemplate our gratitude to Australia for its quick response to the Aceh and Sumatra earthquakes, as well as our condolences to victims of the tragedy in Bali 10 years ago, we simply have a mutual need to develop a stronger relationship in the near future. In line with this viewpoint, language, indeed, does matter.

The writer, a doctoral candidate at UWA Business School in Perth, Australia, is a lecturer in the school of management at Andalas University, Padang.

Cutting a foreign tongue?

Setiono Sugiharto, Jakarta | Opinion | Sat, October 20 2012, 11:37 AM

Paper Edition | Page: 6

The reasoning for the scrapping of English initially articulated by Deputy Education and Culture Minister for Education Musliar Kasim has brought out more cons than pros. As part of the curriculum revamp, the hasty decision to exclude English lessons — currently a mandatory subject in primary schools — has been vermently opposed by many, as evidenced in the readers’ forum of this newspaper (see Oct. 16 and 17 issues).

This strong reaction against the abolition of English in primary schools is quite understandable. English language teaching (ELT) has enjoyed a long history in this country, dating back to the Dutch colonial period, and the values of the language have seeped into almost every domain of people’s life. Education is no exception.

Omission of English from the curriculum is as harmful for our relationships with developed countries which value English over other foreign languages — Australia, the United States, India to name but three. Opposing English is tantamount to opposing globalization and modernity.

It is not surprising to see that most, if not all, the comments in The Jakarta Post’s readers’ forum are very pro-English and full of well-worn labels such as “lingua franca”, “the window of the world”, “world language” and “the language of wider communication”.

These positive attitudes to English demonstrate people’s awareness of the importance of the language of global access. They also show that people don’t want to be excluded and isolated from the advancement of science and technology dominated by the English language.

Conversely, and somewhat paradoxically, these attitudes show people’s (perhaps unconscious) willingness to allow the hegemony of English to dominate their thinking.

Musliar Kasim’s contention that the omission of English provides an opportunity to master the Indonesian language (The Jakarta Post, Oct. 12) seems, at first sight, to hit the nail on the head, if linguistic hegemony is to be resisted.

The deputy minister’s argument implies the promotion of monolingualism through increased exposure to the Indonesian language at school.

There seems to be resistance to linguistic hegemony behind the call to scratch English from the school curriculum and declare it haram.

If enacted, the policy could backfire, promulgating a new form of hegemony in multilingual, multiracial Indonesian society.

Indonesia is replete with vernacular varieties. History shows that the plummet in use of local languages was down to the zealous imposition of the Indonesian language, primarily through schooling. Clearly, proscribing the use of English in schools and even declaring it haram is an extreme form of resistance, and what lesson does it give to school children?

The case of the English language resistance in Malaysia through the promotion of the “Malay-Only” policy should serve as a lesson for us. Despite calls for using Malay as the national language — a symbol of national unity — and for banning the use of English particularly in education, most Malaysian scholars found the policy counter-productive, not only because it impairs Malaysians intellectually, but also because it has the potential to marginalize other locally spoken languages such as Tamil and Chinese.

In essence, the Malay monolingualist policy is incompatible with the spirit of modernity and tolerance of language groups in the country.

It is clear then that scrapping English from the school curriculum raises more problems than it solves. English lessons are still needed for young students, but with a new goal. This goal is only feasible if we admit that language teaching is political, not neutral or value-free, and that classroom is a manifestation of “cultural politics”.

Rather than simply glorifying the values of English and telling students that learning English offers massive benefits to their future lives, it is far more urgent to help them challenge language by exploiting and appropriating it by virtue of their identities, cultural norms and values, and tradition.

This may sound like a lofty ideal, but with a high commitment to boosting the quality of language education in the country our efforts are more likely to yield fruitful results.

The writer is an associate professor at Atma Jaya Catholic University, Jakarta.

Campus and violence, a reflection

Khairil Azhar, Jakarta | Opinion | Sat, October 20 2012, 10:26 AM

Paper Edition | Page: 6

Amid the bad news of violence on several Indonesian campuses, as we nowadays frequently see on TV or read in the newspaper, there are surely best practices at many other educational institutions that have been more successful in both academic and socio-ethical achievements as well as in dispensing with the students’ outbursts.

We therefore have to take a better look at the schools or universities that we may have thus far overlooked. They might be next to our houses, in the remote provinces of Indonesia or they might even be our own campuses from the past.

In my first days at a state university in 1994, for instance, I had an amazing experience with initiation activities that was different from the bad stories from other campuses at that time. All new students certainly had fears that there would be both physical and verbal abuse, but those fears never materialized.

Physical activities were limited to early morning workouts. For the next five or six hours of each day that week, we had to attend seminars, conduct small group discussions, write papers and defend them in front of a plenary session. The seniors, many with long hair, skinny bodies and rumpled clothes, seemed to show off how “intellectual” they were and encouraged us to follow the same course.

For example, my friends and I once were stopped at a “checkpoint” in front of the office of the students’ association. Instead of asking us to do push-ups or crawl around, one of the seniors showed us a book with a blue cover, entitled Islam Ditinjau Dari Berbagai Aspeknya (Islam viewed from its diverse aspects), written by the late Prof. Harun Nasution, an Indonesian Muslim reformist.

The skinny senior asked, “Have you read this book?” He then questioned us about “heavyweight” problems for about 10 minutes before letting us go. Later, I knew, the book had been seen for many years taken as the “holy book” among the students and open-minded lecturers of the university. It encourages readers not to understand Islam monolithically but to use a number of possible perspectives.

My encounter with violence on campus started with my joining the student regiment (Menwa) the same year. The semi-military unit of the university introduced both verbal and physical violence. We learned how to abide by instructions and to make others act upon ours.

We were disciplined mentally and physically, and through this discipline we were controlled by the higher ranks of the military unit, even up to the level of state military forces. We were deployed to informing one another about what we heard and saw, and to channel the information to our seniors.

As new students, we were persuaded off campus, before, along and after initiation camp, to decide which voluntary organization we would join. As it was an Islamic state-owned campus, there were three main choices: the Muslim Students Association (HMI), the Muhammadiyah Students Association (IMM) or the Indonesian Muslim Students Movement (PMII).

If we really involved ourselves in one of these groups, as happened with many of my friends, there was relatively no time or energy left to even think of abusing others physically. Instead, due to the intellectual and political nature of the organizations, we seemed to be drilled with reading, analyzing and reasoning in making decisions individually or organizationally as well as how to implement them.

Our conflicts were then related to what we called “ideological” problems. Our contestations were about how to recruit as many new members as possible for our “ideological” organization and to win the majority of seats and chairmanships in any of the campus organizations. Besides the oratory abilities we honed in meetings and lobbying, having one’s writing capabilities proven with the publication of an article in a national newspapers was a highly appreciated thing.

Moreover, if we were really interested with the world of ideas and intellectual activism, there were small but influential discussion groups available at that time.

We could join the Ciputat Students Forum (Formaci), Flamboyant Shelter or Piramida Circle. In these “serious” groups we could enjoy the great ideas of the Greek thinkers, past and present notable Muslim scholars, the intellectual quandaries of Karl Marx or Foucault or the incomparable works of Leo Tolstoy.

We could say that we were busy activating our minds and looking at the world we live in from different perspectives. If there were thoughts to “attack” others, they were in intellectual corridors and with scientific drives and vehicles.

Physical brawls inside the campus were often strangely associated with the activities of the Student Regiment (Menwa). We labeled them “senseless” and “norak” (tasteless).

Also associated with the tastelessness was the tendency of the “student politicians” to deploy rhetoric and unintellectual political statements in their campaigns and academic discussions.

Nowadays, pragmatism seems to have taken over everywhere, and the students are technocratically prepared more to be “machine men” instead of “freely thinking humans”. This might be a deliberate choice by the state as “the old student activism” might be thought of as dangerous or useless.

However, this begs the question as to whether there are enough outlets and efforts to channel the potential dynamics of the university students to useful ends. What has been done so far by the Education and Culture Ministry, for instance, other than the de-politicization of students’ lives and privatization of state universities?

The writer is a researcher at Paramadina Foundation and Ciputat School for Democratic Islam.