History lives on in shades of grey

Brian YS Wong January 09, 2025 22:10

I had the pleasure of perusing ‘Revolusi’ – an exceptional work by David Van Reybrouck – over the Christmas and New Year holidays.

The book proved to be a riveting tour de force, taking its readers through the millennia worth of Indonesian history, from the Paleolithic and Neolithic Periods, through to the “Empire of Water” Majapahit Kingdom and the Hindu-Buddhist cultures that blossomed in the first millennium; from the insidious and multi-century process of Dutch colonisation (featuring a brief interregnum of French, then British takeover), through to World War 2, and – finally – its independence, followed by the seminal Bandung Conference.

The independence of contemporary Indonesia was built on the backs of nationalists, Islamist activists, and communist fighters, but also Dutch East Indies natives who had collaborated with the Japanese invaders during the War or who sympathised with the Dutch colonial rule, as well as efforts by British, American, Dutch, and even Japanese politicians who viewed Indonesian independence as aligned with their respective geopolitical or normative agendas.

To draw upon the author’s emphatic words here, not only did Indonesian history change the world – it also embodied the fundamentally complex, paradoxical, and deeply morally convoluted nature of world history.

History comes in shades of grey.

Whilst collaboration history has become an ignominious subject of taboo in contemporary discourse, many residing in the then-occupied Dutch East Indies had viewed the Japanese invaders in World War Two as liberators of sorts. This was for numerous reasons – long-standing ties between the indigenous population (especially the downtrodden and the subjugated, whom Van Reybrouck dubbed the “Deck 3” passengers on the metaphorical Indonesian steamship) and Japanese traders in the region, who had been frequent visitors since the founding days of Batavia in 1619 (now Jakarta); the sympathies of many in the ethnic Chinese, Javanese, Sudanese populations for the “Pan-Asian” imperialist ultranationalism, masqueraded as purported anti-colonialist sentiments, “To Hell with the Dutch colonisers”, and, of course, the cold-blooded cynicism in “The enemy of my enemy is my friend”.

Such ideological and pragmatically motivated undercurrents were so prevalent, that even some of the most renowned revolutionary heroes in the country’s modern history, were amongst the most embraced and embedded elements within the Japanese collaborationist regime – lending their voices, support, and perceived legitimacy to the invading forces. Van Reybrouck spoke of the Japanese’s victory and vanquishing of pro-Dutch forces as implicitly abetted by many, who had long felt the yoke of the Dutch overlords and saw the Japanese as less invaders and more friends from yore returning to a site of fraternisation. Such sentiments, even if not ubiquitous and widespread across the board, were deeply revealing and indicative of the atrocities the Dutch had committed during their three and a half centuries of pillaging, raids and sacking, beatings and murders in the region.

Make no mistake. I am not here to romanticise or gloss over the deeply abhorrent violence and abuse the Japanese committed, in name of their very own militarist and imperialist objectives during the War. Nor am I here to discuss exclusively the intricacies of Indonesian history. The broader point I hope to make, is that across the world, history lives on today – in shades of grey.

In our everyday discourse, we are driven to conceptualise and characterise the ethical standing of actors on the world stage through lenses of black and white. Militants agitating for independence are either venerated as “freedom fighters” or castigated as “terrorists”. Military officers authorising strikes against terrorists are either “peacekeepers” or “neo-colonialists”. Countries are grouped under umbrella categories of “benign” and “evil”, “constructive” or “destructive”, as if the murky centre is neither tenable nor feasible.

Yet the truth is fundamentally murky. Morality is frustratingly and fascinatingly ambiguous. Whilst Winston Churchill was doubtlessly a war hero whose acumen and tenacity brought peace to Britain – and contributed towards the end to the Nazi regime in Germany – to some extent, he also held deeply bizarre and unjust views on race and the colonial system. Whilst Lyndon B Johnson saw through some of the most mesmerising enfranchising and emancipatory changes to civil rights in America, he was also viewed by many to be a chronic liar and defier of rules (especially in his earlier days, during his Senate primary race in Texas) in securing political dividends and career advancements. Daw Aung San Suu Kyi stood up to the Tatmadaw and the junta rule, led Myanmar into a window of fragile democracy, yet was ensnared and mired in controversy over her handling of the Rohingya question.

As we look back at history, we should come to realise that to cast binary judgments on the ethics, moral justification, and defensibility of individuals’ decisions and actions, would often be ill-advised. More importantly, in interpreting and recounting history, we should recognise that we are ourselves co-creators in the very process. Much of the ‘grayness’ of history stems from the apparent and enduring incompatibilities in values, perspectives, and judgments between the past, present, and future. Only upon realising the normative indeterminacies and quagmires confronting many an individual in the non-linear trajectory of time and history, can we come to see history for what it is – a rich, chaotic, and cacophonous tapestry that defies classification and essentialisation.
History lives on.

Brian YS Wong

Assistant Professor, HKU