Professional Documents
Culture Documents
ARTICLE
j Joseph C. Manzella
Southern Connecticut State University
ABSTRACT
Introduction
people performed work was measured against what they said of the work. For
example, I was particularly concerned about the relationship between editor
and reporter. It appeared that reporters’ stories were heavily edited. Indeed,
reporting from bright young Indonesian journalists tended to be at times
careless because of a lack of substantive training. Heavy editing was par-
ticularly true of the English-language press, which often employed foreign
nationals to translate into English. In fact journalistic training, though avail-
able, was not widespread (Epworth, 1988: 42).
In addition to newsroom observation, I used key informants for back-
ground on specific newspapers and to discuss the validity of my observations.
Informants included journalists who were active in the Sukarno and Suharto
eras, journalism students and observers associated with the foreign press. For
much of the information on the Jakarta press after my fieldwork period there,
I also relied on key informants. These included Jakarta newspaper editors and
reporters with whom I maintained contact and foreign journalists such as
members of the Associated Press bureau in Jakarta.
There was also content analysis of newspaper stories during the field-
work period and through 1999. Newspapers analyzed included Kompas, Suara
Pembaruan, Suara Merdeka, The Jakarta Post and The Indonesian Observer. These
were compared with foreign press reports from The New York Times, the
Associated Press and Time magazine. Most of the Indonesian newspapers
chosen could be considered part of the nation’s ‘elite’ press as defined by other
researchers (Cooper, 1984: 106; Merrill and Fisher, 1980: 10). These would be
publications that are considered reliable and influential and that are taken
seriously both within and without the country. Journalists were also ques-
tioned about the content of news stories.
I did not spend any time at radio or television stations, although I did
observe television and used informants for background on TV news vis-a-vis
print media. Television news in Indonesia seems to lack the breadth and
history of print journalism and is functionally different. From the western
perspective broadcast news is widespread in Indonesia but is not a significant
source of hard news for the general public. Johnston (1999: 225) noted that
about 87 percent of Indonesian households had television in 1993, but she
questioned the content of the programming.
During the Suharto era, broadcast stations were required to run state-
generated news, and to an extent, informants said, the practice continued into
2000, not by state mandate so much as the need to fill airtime. Although radio
broadcasting was widespread under Suharto, the state owned the nation’s
principal radio network and private radio stations were prohibited from
broadcasting their own news (Merrill, 1995: 298). In 2000, informants said,
both TV and radio broadcasting still had a way to go before they were able to
generate regular western-style news coverage.
From the spring of 1997 to the spring of 1998 Indonesia underwent a critical,
though shaky, transition from near dictatorship to near democracy. In 1997,
cracks began to appear in the reign of Suharto, an authoritarian ruler whose
government was little different than the man he replaced in 1967, the nation’s
founder President Sukarno.
According to local informants and foreign press reports – including The
New York Times and the Associated Press – the Suharto regime was particularly
affected by the pan-Asian economic crisis that still curses the Indonesian
economy. In May 1998, his government weak, Suharto was replaced by
B.J. Habibie and press restrictions were either lifted or ignored. An era of
western-style free press appeared to be underway. In October 1999, the nation
held democratic elections which, though marred by violence, elected moder-
ate Muslim cleric Abdurrahman Wahid, considered a political bridge builder,
as the nation’s fourth president. His chief opposition, the popular Megawati
Sukarnoputri, became vice president. The eldest daughter of Sukarno,
Megawati, was regarded by the foreign press as a symbol of democratic change
(Spencer, 1999).
So far, political change has boded well for the news media, which accord-
ing to local informants still wrestled in late 1999 with the shadows of the past.
Indeed, press constraints have had a long history in Java. This history includes
19th century Dutch laws designed to clamp down on government criticism
(Hagen, 1997). The history of Indonesian censorship includes the presidencies
of both Sukarno and Suharto, both of whom linked the interests of the news
media with that of the central government and national identity. This linkage
has historical roots. The news media facilitated the spread of bahasa Indonesia,
the national language of government, business and education that became a
tool of the central government to unite the diverse nation (Anderson, 1983:
121). Also, the press can take some credit for the rapid spread of Indonesian
nationalism under Sukarno (Hagen, 1997).
In the roller coaster Sukarno era, journalism was chaotic and undis-
ciplined. Added to that, according to a former Jakarta reporter and long-time
media observer, there was a love–hate relationship between journalists and
Sukarno that did not carry over to his successor. In the late 20th century, the
Suharto regime employed a number of tools to control the press, including
shutting down a newspaper by revoking its license. Behind this kind of action
was a 1982 government regulation that said the duties of the press were to
strengthen ‘national unity and cohesion’ (Frederick and Worden, 1993). The
tie between the press and nationalism was particularly strong during the
tenure of the nation’s founder Sukarno. Still revered by many and demonized
by others, Sukarno left a mixed legacy that shadows every aspect of con-
temporary Indonesian politics. Part of that legacy was press censorship.
Current press restrictions are an outgrowth of Sukarno’s nationalism, and
during the Sukarno era and shortly thereafter, those restrictions were quite
severe. Constraints on the press were institutionalized in 1966, about the time
that Suharto was engineering the downfall of Sukarno. A presidential act
stated that the press was to be ‘an instrument of the revolution’ and a defender
of the Republic’s five principles, known as ‘Pancasila’ or ‘Panca Sila’ (Nam,
1983: 311).
A blueprint for national identity first articulated by Sukarno, five ideas
or principles may sum up Pancasila (or ‘the five ways’): nationalism;
humanitarianism; popular sovereignty or democracy; social justice; and mono-
theism (Errington, 1998: 57). Since 1966, the government has been unwaver-
ing in linking the duties of the press with Pancasila. In 1997, editors at elite
newspapers in Jakarta said they saw the mission of journalism as coinciding
with the five principles in much the same way that American newspeople
show reverence for the First Amendment. However, there appeared to be a
significant contradiction in the interpretation of the relationship between the
press and the national mission. During and since the Sukarno era, national
leaders have relegated the press to a servant of Pancasila, which has been
equated with the goals of those in authority (Nam, 1983: 311). In the late
1990s, however, journalists have downplayed the link between the interests of
the central government and the five principles. Instead they have held that the
press is the guardian of Pancasila against the abuses of the central authority.
It is something of an understatement to say that political democracy in
Indonesia is a complex notion. Even in the Suharto era, there were several
conflicting power centers representing the interests of the Suharto regime, the
middle class, the Islamic party and other political parties, the intellectuals and
a legion of ethnic and religious minorities within and outside the island of
Java. Complicating the political scene has been the force of modernism,
pembanguanan, that has colored social and political discourse (Errington,
1998: 58).
During the Suharto era, Jakarta journalists said, the constraints on the
practices of newsgathering were more characteristic of totalitarian political
systems than democracies. In other words, press censorship was as vigorous as
it was under Sukarno. Although the nation maintained a democratic shell even
before 1998, the Suharto-era government set strict guidelines for the press.
According to a Kompas editor, they essentially boiled down to: ‘Write whatever
you like, but don’t criticize the president’s family or the military.’ In the past,
the government acted severely to unfavorable news, but to incur the govern-
ment’s wrath had been a mark of a job well done to some Jakarta newspeople.
For example, an editor of The Indonesian Observer noted that media crackdowns
had become somewhat routine for him, adding, ‘We want truth.’1
Indeed, the Ministry of Information, the government gatekeeper and the
agency that still regulates the nation’s news organizations, vigorously enforced
press guidelines during the Suharto years. The Ministry’s task was considerable
in an extraordinarily diverse country with more than 50 daily newspapers with
a combined circulation in excess of two million. These dailies tended to be
highly political; some had religious affiliations and most had been established
after the fall of the Sukarno regime in the 1960s (Merrill, 1995). After Suharto’s
resignation, the government became less intrusive, allowing a semblance of a
free and freewheeling press, culminating in US-style coverage of the June 1999
elections, the first free elections in Indonesia in four decades.
Deeper structures
Since 1998, both Indonesian and foreign journalists say, the Ministry of
Information has backed off and the news media have enjoyed relative freedom
of expression. The change from a muzzled press to an unrestrained press was
virtually ‘overnight’, according to one informant, Associated Press’s Jakarta
Bureau Chief Geoff Spencer. He added that almost immediately after Suharto
resigned, the Indonesian press ‘savagely’ attacked the former president, depict-
ing him in editorial cartoons as a bandit. Then within a week after the election
of Abdurrahman Wahid in 1999, the Ministry of Information was shut down,
Spencer said. But even before the dramatic changes of 1998 and 1999 and
despite institutionalized press censorship, there may have been meaningful
similarities in the deeper structures of journalism in Indonesia and the west.
In societies where there is a notion of a free press there may be a loosely
knit culture of journalism that extends beyond national boundaries. This
does not mean that a free press exists – or has existed – in those societies that
share a common culture of journalism. I do mean to suggest, however, that
Indonesian journalists before and after 1998 shared with their counterparts
in, for example, the United States the idea that news media should not be
encumbered by the political system. These similarities, of course, are mediated
and refracted by political and other social forces in the larger culture and
manifested as practices that may show local variations. On the surface, this
claim seems to ignore the propagandistic form of journalism apparently
include a belief system that members of the group recognize and the values
that arise from those beliefs whether or not they are manifested in story
content. When referring to an ideological system, I will include it as part of
the aforementioned broader concept of cultural schema. I will argue that the
practices of newswork in different societies – particularly those with sup-
posedly democratic or faux democratic political systems – are manifestations
of this global cultural schema mediated by the interaction of the press and the
local sociopolitical system. The differences in the occupational behaviors of
the press in each country, therefore, are the results of the strategies newspapers
have developed to deal with the political system or other systems of social
control.
A schema of news
Briefly then, the clusters of values and beliefs that appear to be components
of the western cultural schema of news that are also found in Indonesia
include:
1 Belief in the press as society’s watchdog. This implies both a distrust of and
attraction to those in authority. The watchdog press reinforces the dominant
political structure by validating its existence even as it subverts it by critiquing it.
The distrust of those in authority has often led to a certain cynical view of
society. As Breed (1955) noted, American newspeople, particularly reporters, hold
to a cynical view of life perhaps because they see themselves as being close to and
aware of the ‘stark reality’ of the ills of society. By extension, reporters are all too
aware of the people who caused those ills. On the other hand, newspeople tend
to be drawn to centers of power and to the powerful even as they strive to ‘take
them down’. To an extent, one’s status as a journalist is determined in part by
whom one can ‘get to’ for an interview or ‘bring down’ in a story.
2 Belief in the power of writing, or the word, to affect positive social change. This means
that journalists act upon the notion that the processes of newsgathering and the
act of writing are instruments of ritualistic power. To them, words have power
and the act of writing may have quasi-religious overtones. Writing is considered
a sacred thing, and the act of writing is closely tied to social activism. In the
United States the idea of the power of the press to affect social change has been
an undercurrent but not an overarching concern of mainstream news pro-
duction. In other words, social activism is secondary to other factors in
motivating journalists (Weaver and Wilhoit, 1986, 1992).3 However, social activ-
ism obviously is strong among alternative or advocacy journalists, and it appears
in pockets in the mainstream press. Elsewhere, particularly in developing coun-
tries, social activism in the press tends to be much stronger. For example, during
fieldwork in the late 1990s, I found that in Venezuela the idea of social activism
is strongly engrained in that nation’s culture of news, and that in post-apartheid
South Africa press social activism is still strong.
3 Belief in the idea of balance. A few decades ago, the term objectivity could be used
here. Indeed, for much of the 20th century, objectivity was a core component of
American journalistic ideology and identity. In recent years, however, the notion
that news can be objective has been downplayed by some American newspeople.
In western Europe too, the idea of fairness or balance, rather than objectivity,
currently is used by some newspeople to describe their newsgathering and
reporting practices.4 Although the idea of balance may be replacing the earlier
notion of objectivity in western journalism, it is a signifier of the professionalism
that Indonesian journalists strive to emulate.
They too tend to replace the notion of objectivity with the idea of balance.
They argue that events may be objective, but the reporting of events is always
subjective. At Kompas, Indonesia’s largest newspaper, for example, reporters have
been urged to ‘cover both sides, listen to the other side. There may be other
possibilities’.5
4 Recognition of an egalitarian tradition. The western egalitarian convention of
journalism views the press as an instrument of democracy, and therefore news-
people are part of a community that permits those in the middle and lower
classes who become newspeople ‘to mix it up’ with the powerful. Egalitarianism
is expressed in the idea of the press as an equalizing social force, a watchdog on
the powerful. It is evoked in such oft-repeated phrases as ‘the public’s right to
know’ and a frequently used definition of the press as a tool to ‘comfort th’
afflicted, afflict th’ comfortable’.6 As mentioned earlier, a variation of this phrase
is the motto of Kompas. This egalitarian convention reaches extremes in places
such as the Netherlands where media organization statutes protect reporters from
the interference of publishers and high-ranking editors. The Indonesian press
also functions as a class leveler in that for the lower socioeconomic levels
journalism is considered a route to power.
Schematic flows
(a) Institutional transfer. By this Golding means that the methods of news produc-
tion are transferred from Europe and North America through colonization. For
example, Indonesia’s print media in form at least is a stepchild of harsh Dutch
colonialism. It was under the Dutch colonial state in the late 19th century that
the impetus for a national language grew (Errington, 1998: 53–4). The emerging
press in the early 20th century helped spread the idea of a national language and
both became linked eventually with the concept of nationalism (Hagen, 1997).
(b) Education and training. Golding suggests that large numbers of Third World
students have received training, including journalistic training, in industrialized
nations. The physical form and ideology of news in sub-Saharan Africa, for
example, has been largely imported from Europe and North America (Hachten,
1993: 14).
(c) Occupational ideologies. Golding links professionalism in the Third World with the
notion of objective journalism. Golding notes, however, that professionalism is
difficult in developing countries because the market and work situations com-
promise neutrality and are wedded to social and political processes.
There are also other, non-diffusional forces at work that have helped
create a common journalistic schema between the Indonesian and the western
press. Tuchman (1978: 160) notes that occupational ideologies may be mani-
fested in certain newsgathering techniques that in turn create a journalistic
‘web of facticity’. The reverse may also be true. The day-to-day activities of
newsgathering such as observation and questioning tend to reinforce or alter
the prevailing ideology of news just as the values and beliefs of newspeople
may be reified in their patterns of work. For example, daily contact with public
officials for the purpose of holding them accountable for their actions re-
inforces the reporter’s cynical view of life. Likewise, the routine production of
critical stories about the actions of public officials reinforces the notion that
those in authority need to be held accountable for their acts.
Thus the strategies of reporting pattern daily work routines and also affect
ideology, specifically the belief that the purpose of reporting is to question
authority. In other words, reporters’ routines, which are structural, both
validate and inform, and sometimes alter, what reporters believe are the
purposes of their jobs. Routines are the expressions of the ideology, intentions
and goals of a group, that is, the cultural schema of a group, and in that such
routinized actions attempt to achieve schematic goals they also tend to affect
the evolution of ideology.
Structures, therefore, are generated by (and are reciprocally influenced by)
cultural schema, that is, the realm of values, beliefs and goals (Giddens, 1976,
1979, 1984). Cultural schemas are manifested in social structures, a term that
will be used in reference to social practices or social patterns of behavior.
Sewell (1992) defines cultural schema, or schematic ‘fields’, as the abstract
cultural domains where paradigms are formulated, established and contradict
other schemas. It is the domain of ideology. Rules that are established by
such schemas constrain and enable collective patterns of behavior or social
structure.
A notion of freedom
For print journalists in Jakarta, the Kompas mission statement on the role of
the press – ‘to console the poor, to remind the established’ – expresses a
contradiction in the journalistic life in the nation’s capital on the island of
Java. There journalists have had to balance the official notion of news as a
positive force for progress in partnership with the government against the
notion of the newspaper journalist as a watchdog of central authority. The pre-
1998 constraints on daily print journalism, however, beg the question: Did
Suharto-era Indonesia ever have a free press? There is no simple answer. On the
ideological level the press was free because the cultural schema of news
embraced the notion of freedom. However, in terms of the political system and
its interaction with the day-to-day routines of newswork, the press was clearly
not free in the western sense. On the other hand, Indonesian journalists
developed strategies to sustain some of the practices of a free press in the face
of severe government constraints. The application of these strategies to daily
journalism constituted a kind of sociocultural negotiation or bridge action. These
bridge action negotiations were devices by which a journalist could affect the
political system by using and disguising ideological elements from a contra-
dictory ideological system, i.e. the culture of news. Contradiction is defined
here as an irreconcilable set of circumstances. Therefore to comprehend the
interactions of a government and the news media is to comprehend the role of
journalists as mediators between, and negotiators of, contradictory realms of
cultural schemas and the expressions of those schemas in social practices.
The ‘between the lines’ writing styles that journalists used during the
Suharto era constitute such bridge actions. They may have been an outgrowth
of Javanese cultural strategies inherited from the Dutch colonial era. Today,
this Javanese culture overlays much of the cultural bedrock of Indonesia’s
urban elite, which is not exclusively Javanese (Errington, 1998: 2). An element
in that Javanese colonial culture was an elaboration of the rules of social
conduct – what Pemberton (1994: 56) calls a logic of orderliness. An expression
of that logic may be found in the modern era in the elaborate sociopolitical
constraints on media, which culminated in the strict press censorship of the
Sukarno and Suharto eras. In this context, the writing strategies of Indonesian
journalists in the Suharto era may be seen as ways that the news media have
coped with, or negotiated, dangerous sociopolitical terrain.
Although the Suharto-era Ministry of Information harshly carried out
enforcement of press censorship, crackdowns occurred only when newspapers
clearly attacked certain elements of government. As a newspaper editor
explained in 1997, there is an unstated hard rule that a journalist must keep
his or her ‘hands off the president’s family and military’. For their part, the
news media carefully picked their battles. Consequently, reporters and editors
devised uniquely Indonesian strategies – or negotiations with the government
– to maintain their identity as journalists. Among these bridge actions was a
certain indirectness when criticizing taboo subjects such as the military. This
indirectness was expressed in writing that forced the reader to understand the
subtext to catch the criticism.
In the past four years leading up to Suharto’s resignation, press criticism of
off-limit subjects has been more overt and less ‘polite and indirect’. This has
led to more confrontations with the Suharto government. The reason for this
may have been that cracks were beginning to appear in the Suharto regime,
lessening – though not eliminating – the need for bridge action strategies. Each
confrontation with government censors appeared to encourage some journal-
ists to new levels of boldness. In late 1995, for example, the Indonesian press
celebrated the first anniversary of the Alliance of Independent Journalists
(Aliansi Jurnalis Independen or AJI). The previous year was marked by a wave
of government suppression of some news journals followed by important
court victories for the press. These victories temporarily weakened the hand of
the then Information Minister Harmoko, who had been practicing strong-arm
tactics against news organizations critical of him and of the government
(Feinstein, 1995). Among those tactics was the banning of three weekly news
magazines and the jailing of an editor, Ahmad Taufik, an advocate of press
freedom and one of the AJI’s organizers (Shuster, 1995: 3).
In 1997, Harmoko, who was minister for 14 years, was replaced by a
former general, R. Hartono, who told the Jakarta press he would look into the
possibility of revising or ending the Ministry’s power to revoke the licenses of
news organizations (see story ‘Minister Hartono’ in the next section). This
occurred shortly after the tumultuous re-election of Suharto as the nation’s
leader. To an extent, much of the press at that time had reverted to the
traditional polite critique of government policies. I found Indonesian editors
and reporters in Jakarta at the time to be particularly cautious, willing to speak
privately about government control of the press but reluctant to go on the
record.
An editor of Kompas, who wished to remain anonymous, explained the
notion of politeness and indirectness in news coverage:
In the western press, because of the tradition of democracy and law, everything is
black and white. Here criticism is accomplished between the lines. It is not
possible to say to somebody [a public figure] that you are wrong. Probably [if I
was in the west] I would say ‘you have a white shirt but change it to black’; but
here I would say ‘you have a nice white shirt, but it would be better to change it
to black’.
Here [critical news] is unobtrusive. This is hard for a foreigner to understand. If
they [the government] read between the lines, they accept it. We know they are
accepting [the criticism] through the speeches of the president.
The following 13 June 1997 story from the English-language paper The
Indonesian Observer is another example of polite criticism of the government.
This example is interesting in that it also contains an indirect government
swipe at the press.
Minister Hartono backs press freedom
JAKARTA (IO) – The new Minister of Information yesterday pledged that the
government will support the independence of the press as long as it is responsible.
‘As long as your coverage is reasonable, I will always support you,’ Minister
Hartono told reporters after the hand-over ceremony at the information ministry
office yesterday.
Minister Hartono said that reporters have to define the meaning of responsible
reporting. ‘Let’s discuss the exact meaning of responsible reporting, since we
have different opinions,’ he said.
With use of the word ‘caveat’ the story unfurls a red flag, an indirect and
very polite attack on the military. Mild by American standards, it nevertheless
begins the process of setting an oppositional tone. The story continues:
‘The function of the information ministry is to inform society on the govern-
ment’s policies in all sectors. It is hoped that society will then submit corrections
and inputs to all of those policies,’ he added.
‘In this activity, the press has a significant role because it is the liaison between
the government and the society,’ he said.
‘The press informs society of the government’s policies, and its position is
relatively autonomous. So the press is a kind of counterpart to the government,’
he explained.
According to Oetama, the success of the Information Minister will be measured
by the extent of the people’s ability to obtain information and respond to
government policies through the mass media.
Here The Observer uses the words of Jakob Oetama, the editor of another
newspaper, to critique the military and the Information Ministry. The story,
which appeared on page 1, appeared calculated to warn the new minister that
the Jakarta news media saw its role as oppositional and not as simply a
promoter of government policies. It should be noted that the choice of the
influential Oetama as the interviewee for this story was significant. It is also
interesting because The Observer was considered the boldest English-language
paper in the late 1980s (Epworth, 1988), but by the late 1990s, it was thought
to be friendly to Suharto and not as bold as The Jakarta Post, then the more
influential English-language paper.
By asserting the oppositional, or watchdog, nature of the story toward the
end, the writer ultimately certifies the notion of balance. The story, therefore,
asserts that it is the role of the press to balance the interests of the government
with the interests of the public, but the writer initially does not strive for
balance. The story does not overtly present the ‘other side’ until deep into the
text. This bridge action, or negotiation with government censors, initially
masks and only later reveals the underlying ideological frame – striking, so to
speak, at the polite moment. If the criticism was too blatant, the Ministry
would strike back, therefore measuring the timing and appropriateness of
criticism was a continually evolving process of social interaction.
Commenting on the events explained in the preceding story, a high-level
editor of Kompas noted: ‘They [the Suharto regime] need someone [the new
information minister] to control the press. Personally he is very nice . . . but
we don’t know yet about his policy. The new information minister said that if
the press does something wrong, he would rather have individual journalists
taken to court than ban the press.’ In this example, from 20 May 1998, Kompas
also shows some restraint and politeness by ‘backing into’ the bad news.
BI Governor:
Jakarta
This was disclosed by Sjahril to the press after attending the Cabinet’s coordinat-
ing meeting of the ministers on economy, in Jakarta Tuesday (19/5). According to
Sjahril, the indication of the strengthened rupiah can be seen in the market
mechanism . . . the reformation steps, like the forming of the reformation
committee and reformation cabinet, . . . will also influence the rupiah exchange
value and have a positive impact on the stock market.
The first two paragraphs are essentially ‘puff’, while the bad news, the real
point of the story, appears in paragraph five:
The rush on the Bank Central Asia branch offices became more serious. If on the
former day the BCA branch offices still served their clients till 12.00 WIT (West
Indonesia Time), Tuesday (19/5) yesterday the BCA branch offices at Blora and
Cepu (Central Java) already stopped serving clients at 09.30 WIT.
Under guard of a number of security officials, at 09.30 WIT the offices stopped all
services for the clients, either in form of deposits, withdrawals or transfer of
money. While since it was open at 08.00 WIT, collecting of money for all kinds of
accounts, either in form of savings, clearings or liquidating of all forms of bank
papers were [sic] limited to maximum of Rp 5 million.
In the week before the resignation of Suharto, Kompas ran stories liberally
quoting both the government and student factions engaged in protesting
against the current regime. Like other Jakarta newspapers, Kompas professed a
western ideology of news, while expressing that ideology through ‘balanced’
news stories filtered through Javanese bridge action strategies such as polite-
ness and indirectness. In its mission statement, which embraces humanism,
democracy and populism, Kompas noted: ‘Differences of opinion, while pro-
viding the substance for consultations toward consensus, also serve to stimu-
late creativity.’ This statement constitutes a call for reportorial balance that
was routinely reflected in the reporting of the 1998 political crisis.
Among Jakarta newspeople balanced stories were considered an altern-
ative to western concepts of objectivity. A high-ranking Kompas editor noted
that Jakarta journalists aimed for fairness and balance rather than objectivity
because newsreporting was affected by the framework of the newspaper’s
values, even though news events may of themselves be objective. Such
thinking mirrors the views of an increasing number of US print journalists. In
both countries the more realistic notion of balance, or fairness, is gradually
replacing the notion of objective journalism as a signifier of professionalism.
Professionalism among Jakarta newspeople has been sustained and en-
abled by the presence of foreign news organizations such as the Associated
Press. This was particularly evident during much of the late 1990s when the
combination of the Asian economic crisis, Indonesia’s political crises and the
crisis in East Timor drew considerable attention to Indonesia from world news
organizations. During these major news events foreign press reports offered
models of professional practice clearly embedded in the idea of balance.
Indonesian informants said that the economic crisis had a significant impact
The Post story anticipated the post-Suharto era after the political and
economic processes had broken down and when the underlying western
cultural schema of news began to express itself overtly rather than through
the Javanese strategies of indirectness and politeness. In contrast to more
restrained and constrained times, the political crisis of 1998 appeared to
liberate newspapers in Jakarta. Thus papers such as Suara Pembaruan and Suara
Merdeka freely ran stories criticizing President Habibie and the nation’s
political institutions. By May 1998, emboldened by the economically driven
crisis that eventually led to the downfall of Suharto the press was clearly more
combative and the era of negotiating the news appeared to be over. This
example of an editorial from the small circulation paper The Observer on 30
May 1998 demonstrates the more aggressive, more direct approach.
A question of trust10
In a very narrow sense, the current turmoil besetting the country is about one
thing: public trust, or more specifically the lack thereof, in the government.
Now that President Suharto has come up with concrete measures (holding new
elections, reshuffling the cabinet, setting up a reform council) to address the
issue, the question is, how long must we wait before concept becomes reality?
While we cannot realistically expect them to happen fast, we are entitled to know
how they will come into being and, more importantly, when.
One thing is sure, however, is that elections will be held this year and that, as
Environment Minister Juwono Sudarsono said, ‘We will have a new president by
the end of the year.’
If that statement, or pledge if you will, fails to satisfy reformists’ lust for drastic
change, one wonders what will.
On the other hand, we must also give them the benefit of the doubt. They have
put much trust in the government in the past, only to find out that it has been
breached.
Conclusion
The production of news evolves and changes because the culture of journal-
ism, wherever it is found, is a living thing. In that context, Indonesian
journalism is relatively young, a child of colonialism, Javanese traditions
and contemporary social, political and economic forces. During the Suharto
regime, the press in Indonesia drew from western notions of a free press and
from Javanese strategies of dealing with those in authority. Therefore, print
media writing strategies were methods of negotiating and mediating the
perilous political system of a relatively new nation. These bridge action
strategies involved writing that was indirect and polite, a necessary and very
Javanese means of negotiating the opposing cultural schemas of news and
government. Although subject to the changing political winds, Indonesian
writing strategies allowed newspeople to hold off the Ministry of Information
while maintaining their sense of occupational identity.
The contradictions and resultant conflicts between the Suharto-era govern-
ment and the press represented a contest between western and Indonesian
notions of the duty of the press, although conflicts were fought on a Javanese
battleground, often with Javanese strategies. The dramatic and rapid changes
in Indonesian politics in 1998, however, allowed the press to more clearly
manifest a global schema of news that had been fueling journalism in Jakarta
even before the 1998 crisis. Thus the more direct and overtly critical stories
that appeared during the Suharto crises and thereafter demonstrated how
powerfully the underlying western schema had been entrenched. In addition,
the emergence of western writing strategies was enabled by an upwardly
mobile, cosmopolitan middle class that constituted the primary audience
for the news media and whose economic interests conflicted with those of
the Suharto government. The presence of western news organization during
political and economic crises and during the crisis in East Timor also added
to the incentive to drop bridge action strategies in favor of western writing
styles.
Consequently, by openly manifesting a western schema of news during
the 1997–8 crises, Indonesian journalists created intense pressures upon the
government, whose system of values and beliefs vis-a-vis the role of the press
in society was at odds with many of the nation’s newspeople. It logically
followed that the weaker the government, the bolder the press.
The post-Suharto press, however, still must contend with a complex
political system that includes diverse factions and socioeconomic interests.
Furthermore the development of the news media in Indonesia has been
challenged to a degree by newsroom disorganization and the inexperience of
many journalists. Despite this, a tentative era of free press has come to Jakarta.
Notes
1 The Observer is one of the major English-language newspapers in Jakarta, the other
being the influential Jakarta Post. The Indonesia Times appears to have less clout.
2 Research on the beliefs and values of American journalists are diverse but may be
grouped under the broad category ‘gatekeeper’ studies. Notable examples in the last
half century include White (1950), Lewin (1951), Janowitz (1952, 1960), Bass (1969),
Tunstall (1971), Sigelman (1973), Roshco (1975), Schudson (1978), Gitlin (1980),
Breed (1955, 1980), Ericson et al. (1987), Donohue et al. (1972, 1989), Shoemaker
(1983, 1991) and Johnstone et al. (1976). Weaver and Wilhoit (1986, 1992) provide
extensive quantitative data on the background, training and attitudes of journalists.
Although all of these studies address ideological concerns, none quite spell out the
precise constitution of journalistic ideology as does Gans (1979). However, Fishman
(1980), Schiller (1981) and Tuchman (1972, 1973, 1978), all social construction of
reality theorists, make important connections between ideology and work routines.
3 In Indonesia, specifically in Jakarta, journalists say that self-expression is a strong
motive for becoming a newsperson. Others add that journalism also is an intellectual
exercise. Still others are attracted to newsgathering because it allows for travel, that is,
it is a cosmopolitan occupation. For others journalism supplants what used to be a
common occupational aspiration and route to power – becoming a government
official.
4 Unlike their American counterparts, western European journalists probably never had
a core belief in the idea that objective reporting was possible. European journalism is
‘wedded to the ideology that objective or even neutral accounts of reality are not
possible’ (Donsbach and Klett, 1993: 57).
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Biographical note