George Orwell - Blog Posts

Black September (September Hitam)

I finished the reading challenge #BacaBukuSejarahBareng on September with 4 books: 1984 by George Orwell, Bumi Manusia by Pramoedya Ananta Toer, Berita Kehilangan from KontraS, and TEMPO's Investigation Report titled Pengakuan Algojo 1965.

Keep reading to find the review of each books.

1. 1984 by George Orwell — 5 stars

I wasn't a fan of George Orwell until this year, so I haven't had time to delve deep into his political ideology. My very first introduction to his work was when I read Animal Farm. That book's genius enchanted me so badly that the next day I immediately ordered "Homage to Catalonia" and "1984". Despite having both of them since April, only 1984 screamed loudly to me when September came. As an Indonesian who loves history, September was an important month. Although in 1984, Indonesia was mentioned only once, the political satire from this book is actually relatable to what happened in Indonesia in 1965.

If my ego as a politics student speaks, then this book is a good satire toward totalitarianism and not only that, but also to my country's current political situation (as of 10/10/2024).

There is one thing that we as humans do almost all the time, and it is incorrect: separating politics and culture. I wasn't going to talk much about Newspeak and how its grammar can help people to become dull and unintelligent, but I'm going to highlight the brilliance of Big Brother (if he is even real and not a fictive figure made by The Party) and The Party in using politics to redefine cultures, and by saying cultures, it also means the change from Oldspeak (Standard English) to Newspeak. The culture reset The Party was trying to do can determine every aspect of everyone's life.

The Party knows tremendously well the importance of controlling and remaking the culture as they like with their political power. And this narrative that Orwell brought is so genius as to even touch the surface of the most fundamental thing in everyone's life: language. Changing the language can change habits and perspectives. And The Party wasn't even finished with language as the main tool of control. It also uses psychological manipulation and brainwashing. I mean, how many times did we see that Oceania (the country where The Party resides) changed its war enemy from Eurasia to Eastasia? And how fast can the news be changed so that no one can trace that there was an error made by The Party?

I was foolish to think that Orwell would go easy on this book, by giving the reader a slight romance and sweet forbidden love. I was also naïve to think that Winston and Julia would go hand in hand, meeting the Brotherhood and- Jesus, I really was naïve. But of course, it is really Orwell's book when he won't give the wonderful and happy ending closure to the reader.

2. Bumi Manusia (This Earth of Mankind) by Pramoedya Ananta Toer — 5 stars

In these times, it is an enviable privilege when someone possesses the Buru Quartet series by Pramoedya Ananta Toer. Those who have read 'This Earth of Mankind,' the first book of the aforementioned series, should rejoice for being able to enjoy this magnificent novel in its original language. We should also be proud that our nation's dark history was still willingly written with such skill by Pramoedya Ananta Toer, who was continually oppressed by the state through imprisonment and marginalization.

'This Earth of Mankind' is an excellent opening book for the Buru Quartet, providing a solid foundation for understanding Indonesia's journey through this historical fiction. Set in the late 19th century, this book tells the story of Minke, a native Javanese youth (inlander) born into the aristocratic class (priyayi). From the beginning, Minke's character is left mysterious and unclear in origin, though said to come from a priyayi family background. Thus, readers are made curious about Minke, and this curiosity grows along with Minke's journey as a student at HBS or Hogere Burger School.

A spotlight often shone on Minke is how he, as a native, was able to attend HBS and achieve excellent rankings at the school. This was an extraordinary achievement for a native because HBS was mostly filled with totok or pure Dutch and Indo or mixed Dutch. Not only that, Minke was also praised by many for his fluency in Dutch, like a native speaker. This fluency even made his own mother doubt his Javanese-ness.

The main conflict of the novel begins when Minke meets Nyai Ontosoroh, a concubine who, according to Minke, is unlike typical concubines. Nyai Ontosoroh has a very strong character, supported by her proficiency in Dutch and her ability to read Dutch magazines. Minke had never known a Nyai or concubine capable of speaking and (seemingly) being as educated as Nyai Ontosoroh. Minke's heart is also stirred by the beauty of Nyai Ontosoroh's daughter, Annelies Mellema. The meeting of these three is an unusual one, causing all mouths in their town to gossip about them.

'This Earth of Mankind' itself was inspired by Tirto Adhi Soerjo, the Father of Indonesian Press. He was a journalist, writer, and nationalist who lived from 1880 to 1918. Tirto Adhi Soerjo also founded several newspapers such as Medan Prijaji, which in its time became the first newspaper operated by natives in the Dutch East Indies.

This novel writes a scathing critique of Dutch colonialism that occurred in Indonesia, as well as the complexities of racism and classism during Dutch colonialism. Not only that, Javanese traditionalism is also challenged by the modernity brought by Dutch knowledge, making this book not simply place one party in the black camp and the other in the white. In fact, some argue that the Dutch East Indies Government and the Javanese Priyayi who held positions in the Dutch East Indies government were two giant pillars that suppressed the lives of people without positions and noble blood.

Minke's own morality can be questioned. On one hand, he is greatly advantaged by the noble blood flowing within him, allowing him to attend a good school, but on the other hand, he is also disgusted by and curses Javanese aristocracy which he feels greatly demeans other humans. From Dutch school, he learns about individual rights and freedom of thought and opinion, but at the same school, he realizes that no matter how free a person is, they cannot be freer than the colonizers who come to colonize.

Buru Quartet, series which Pramoedya Ananta Toer narrated during his exile on Buru Island, has been praised for many years yet the availability of these books remain limited. It is why I am hoping that may the rumors regarding of Pramoedya’s works’ reprinting in 2025, truly happen. Because it is such a shame for everyone in Indonesia to not knowing this great roman.

3. Berita Kehilangan from various writers compiled by KontraS and Ultimus — 4.5 Stars

Inside of the reading communities spread across X (formerly Twitter), many have agreed to give September a moniker: Black September. This is done to commemorate the enforced disappearances and killings that occurred in September-October 1965 and many that followed during Orde Baru (New Order) Regime. There's also hashtag going online titled #BacaBukuSejarahBareng which then motivated me to pick up history-themed books available on the bookshelf in my room.

I've owned "Berita Kehilangan" since 2021, but as per my usual habit, I waited for this book to "call out" to me to be read. At the right moment, last September, I finally decided to break the seal of this book to enjoy its contents.

But how could I enjoy what I read, if it contains an anthology of heart-wrenching short stories inspired by enforced disappearances to cruel murders? Throughout all the short stories, the main perpetrator consistently points to the government. The government through its racist policies, through its brutal and cruel military apparatus, and through the cultures of enforced disappearances deliberately perpetuated to create an atmosphere of terror, so that society remains submissive and obedient to the government.

This anthology of short stories originated from the "Berita Kehilangan" short story writing competition held during the Week of Enforced Disappearances 2021 (held by KontraS) and participated by 280 writers. There are 15 selected short stories from 15 writers through the competition and 5 short stories from 5 guest writers, that fill this book. All of them stem from real events and experiences of people who witnessed or became victims or were affected or also those who studied the dark history of this nation.

One of the short stories in this book that made me pause for quite a while is the fact that there were forced relocations/abductions of underage children from East Timor during the conflict with Indonesia from 1975-1999. These children were taken by military personnel to Indonesia. Many children then lived in neglect and grew up in poverty, and not a few experienced sexual abuse and forced religious conversion.

There's also a story inspired by the true story of a young Chinese activist, who was found murdered in her home. Ita Martadinata Haryono was a key witness who was to testify at a UN hearing in New York in October 1998. Ita was about to testify about the mass rape of Chinese Women after the 1998 reformation.

4. Pengakuan Algojo 1965 — 4.5 stars

"That ideology (Communism, Marxism, and Leninism) has long been bankrupt. The Soviet Union is in shambles, China is now as capitalist as America. The idea of a classless society is an outdated and futile utopia... In other words, face communism with relaxation. Because that ideology is actually quite ordinary."

This book contains 10 pages dedicated to a "disclaimer" stating that Tempo's investigative report is intended for a higher purpose and not merely to "corner" certain groups or perpetrators of violence. This report is published and compiled to inspire national reconciliation for the victims and families of the 1965 Incident. The book also provides historical facts that many Indonesians have almost forgotten about how military personnel, religious organizations, and thuggish actions could unite to kill hundreds or even millions of people.

This institution was called the Operational Command for the Restoration of Security and Order (Kopkamtib), established on October 2, 1965, to crush the PKI and restore state order that had just been hit by the September 30th Movement. The National Commission on Human Rights, through its investigation, found that Kopkamtib was the main perpetrator of gross human rights violations in the 1965-1966 events.

The format of this book is quite interesting, as it provides a series of interview results and investigations of people who were once involved in the killing of party members and PKI sympathizers, and also highlights the experiences of people who directly witnessed these events. Not only that, several articles from historians and researchers are also included to add insight into the events that occurred 59 years ago.

Nevertheless, this book does not focus too much on cases that befell women at that time. Most of those interviewed as victims were only men (there is only one article with a female source).

This week obsession: 1984 by George Orwell.

"When I joined the militia I had promised myself to kill one Fascist - after all, if each of us killed one they would soon be extinct."

-George Orwell (Homage to Catalonia, 1970)

My god my girlies

MY GIRLIES. I am still crying, I am still crying about this. Every day I cry about this.

You bitched so hard about being forced to read 1984 in school when it’s so problematic (tm)

Maybe you should have actually paid attention when you read it

Because all these AI fics

You are LITERALLY MAKING THE GARBAGE NOVELS FROM 1984 that are written by machines

You have literally recreated the worthless soulless machine-made books

Literally,

Literally. Every once in a while it hits me in a fresh wave of disbelief and anger. You have literally created the dystopian book from the dystopian story about why dystopia is bad, and you are passing it around like it’s this amazing thing. I’m crying, I’m crying.

literally 1984

Yet each man kills the thing he loves,

By each let this be heard: Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word, The coward does it with a kiss, The brave man with a sword! Some kill their love when they are young, And some when they are old; Some strangle with the hands of Gold: The kindest use a knife, because The dead so soon grow cold. Some love too little, some too long, Some sell and others buy; Some do the deed with many tears, And some without a sigh: For each man kills the thing he loves, Yet each man does not die.

Oscar Wilde

The Samaritans and their conflict with the Jews

Who Are the Samaritans?

The Samaritans are a small religious minority living in the occupied Palestinian territories, specifically on Mount Gerizim in Nablus, and in the city of Holon in Israel. They consider themselves the true descendants of the Israelites who remained in the Holy Land when the Jews were exiled to Babylon in the 6th century BCE. They believe that they never deviated from the original faith, unlike the Jews who, according to their view, altered the religion after their return from the Babylonian exile.

Samaritan Religious Beliefs

The Samaritans only follow the Samaritan Torah, which differs from the Jewish Torah in several points, and they reject the Talmud, the main source of Jewish law after the Torah. For Samaritans, Mount Gerizim in Nablus is the holiest site, and they believe it is the true place of worship for God, not the Temple Mount in Jerusalem as the Jews believe. They view the Jews as having strayed from the true path when they chose Jerusalem as the center of their worship, leading to a deep religious divide between the two communities.

The Roots of the Hostility Between the Samaritans and Jews

The conflict between the Jews and Samaritans dates back thousands of years. Jews believe that the Samaritans are not pure Israelites but a mix of the remnants of the ancient Israelites and pagan peoples who settled in the area after the Assyrian conquest. In contrast, the Samaritans believe that they are the true Israelites, and the Jews have distorted the religion and introduced incorrect teachings. This hostility became so intense that the Jews in ancient times considered Samaritan food impure and rejected intermarriage and interaction with them.

The Conflict in Ancient Times

During the Persian period, the Jews tried to impose their control over the Samaritans and prevent them from building their temple on Mount Gerizim, leading to fierce conflicts between the two groups. During the reign of Alexander the Great, the Samaritans gained some privileges, but with the arrival of the Hasmoneans, the Jews persecuted them, and their temple on Mount Gerizim was destroyed.

The Samaritan Situation in the Roman and Islamic Periods

Under Roman rule, the Samaritans faced great persecution, especially after their failed revolts against the Roman Empire, which led to the killing and displacement of many of them. With the rise of Christianity, they became further marginalized, as the Christians did not consider them Jews, nor did they regard them as part of their faith. During the Islamic era, the Samaritans were granted some protection as "People of the Book," but they remained a minority community.

The Samaritans Today... Between Challenge and Survival

Today, the number of Samaritans is around 800 people, making them one of the smallest religious communities in the world. Some hold Israeli citizenship, while others live in the West Bank under Palestinian authority. Despite their small number, they continue to hold onto their traditions, language, and celebrate their unique holidays, such as the Samaritan Passover, according to their distinct calendar.

The Samaritans are a living testament to the religious and political history of the region, carrying an ancient legacy of conflict and isolation, yet striving to preserve their identity despite the political and religious transformations that have taken place in the Holy Land. Do you think the hostility between the Samaritans and Jews still persists today?

@Hayahbook

We are accused of terrorism

We are accused of terrorism If we dare to write about the remains of a homeland That is scattered in pieces and in decay In decadence and disarray About a homeland that is searching for a place And about a nation that no longer has a face

About a homeland that has nothing left of its great ancient verse But that of wailing and eulogy

About a homeland that has nothing in its horizons Of freedoms of different types and ideology

About a homeland that forbids us from buying a newspaper Or listen to anything About a homeland where all birds are always not allowed to sing About a homeland that out of horror, its writers are using invisible ink

About a homeland that resembles poetry in our country Improvised, imported, loose and of no boundaries Of foreign tongue and soul Detached from Man and Land, ignoring their plight as a whole

About a homeland to the negotiating table moves Without a dignity or shoes

About a homeland That no more has steadfast men With only women therein

Bitterness is in our mouthsin our talkin our eyes Will draught also plague our souls as a legacy passed to us from ancient times?

Our nation has nobody left, even the less glorified No one to say "NO" in the face of those who gave up our homebread and butter Turning our colorful history into a circus

We have not a single honest poem That has not lost its virginity in a ruler's Harem

We grew accustomed to humiliation Then what is left of Man If he is comfortable with that?

I search the books of history For men of greatness to deliver us from darkness To save our women from fires' brutality

I search for men of yesterday But all I find is frightened cats Fearing for their souls From the authority of rats

Are we hit by national blindness Or are we suffering from color blindness

We are accused of terrorism If we refuse to perish Under Israeli tyranny That is hampering our unity Our history Our Bible and our Quran Our prophets' land If that is our sin and crime Then terrorism is fine

We are accused of terrorism If we refuse to be wiped out By barbarians, the Mongols or the Jews If we choose to stone the fragile security council Which was sacked by the king of caesuras

We are accused of terrorism If we refuse to negotiate the wolf And reach out for a whore

America is fighting the cultures of Man Because it lacks one And against the civilizations because it needs one It is a gigantic structure but without a wall

We are accused of terrorism If we refuse current times Where America  the arrogant the mighty the rich Became a sworn interpreter of Hebrew.

-Nizar Qabbani

Qana

The face of Qana Pale, like that of Jesus and the sea breeze of April… Rains of blood.. and tears.. They entered Qana stepping on our charred bodies Raising a Nazi flag in the lands of the South and rehearsing its stormy chapters   Hitler cremated them in the gas chambers   and they came after him to burn us Hitler kicked them out of Eastern Europe and they kicked us out of our lands They entered Qana Like hungry wolves Putting to fire the house of the Messiah Stepping on the dress of Hussain and the dear land of the South We saw the tears in Ali's eyes We heard his voice as he prayed under the rain of bloody skies Qana unveiled what was hidden We saw America Wearing the old coat of a Jewish Rabbi Leading the slaughter Blasting our children for no reason Blasting our wives for no reason Blasting our trees for no reason Blasting our thoughts for no reason Has it been decreed in her constitution, She, America, mistress of the world, In Hebrew .. that she should humble us al-Arabs? Has it been decreed that each time a ruler in America wants to win the presidency that he should kill us... We al Arabs?

-Nizar Qabbani

Jerusalem

I wept until my tears were dry I prayed until the candles flickered I knelt until the floor creaked I asked about Mohammed and Christ Oh Jerusalem, the fragrance of prophets The shortest path between earth and sky Oh Jerusalem, the citadel of laws A beautiful child with fingers charred and downcast eyes You are the shady oasis passed by the Prophet Your streets are melancholy Your minarets are mourning You, the young maiden dressed in black Oh Jerusalem, the city of sorrow A big tear wandering in the eye Who will halt the aggression On you, the pearl of religions? Who will wash your bloody walls? Who will safeguard the Bible? Who will rescue the Quran? Who will save Christ? Who will save man? Oh Jerusalem my town Oh Jerusalem my love Tomorrow the lemon trees will blossom And the olive trees will rejoice Your eyes will dance The migrant pigeons will return To your sacred roofs And your children will play again And fathers and sons will meet On your rosy hills My town The town of peace and olives.

-Nizar Qabbani

Granada

At the entrance of Alhambra was our meeting, How sweet is a rendezvous not thought of before. Two soft black eyes in perfect frames enticing, Generating after-effects from the past ages afore. Are you a Spaniard? I asked her enquiring, She said: Granada is the city where I was born. Granada! Seven centuries awoke from slumbering, In her eyes, after the clothing of sleep they wore. And Umayyad, with flags lifted high, flying, Their horses streaming by, unnumbered they pour. How strange is history, how is it to me returning? A beautiful granddaughter, from my pedigree of yore. With a Damascene face, through it I was seeing, The eyelids of Sheba and the neck of Suad once more. I saw a room in our old house with a clearing, Where mother used to spread my cushions on the floor. And the Jasmine inlaid in its stars were shining, With the golden singing pool, a picture of splendor. Damascus, where is it? I said: you will be seeing It in your flowing hair, a river of golden black ore. In your Arab face, in your mouth still storing The suns of my country from the days of Arab lore. In the perfume of Generalife with waters gleaming, Its Arabian Jasmine, its sweet basil and citron odour. She came with me and her hair behind her flowing, Like luscious ears of grain in an unharvested meadow. The long earrings on her neck were glittering, Like Christmas Eve candles that sparkle and glow. Behind her like a child I walked, she was guiding, And behind me, history, piles of ashes row after row. The decoration of Alhambra I almost hear pulsing, And the ornaments on the roof, I hear their call grow. She said: Alhambra! Pride of my ancestors glowing, Read on its walls my glories that shine and show. Her glory! I anointed an open wound festering, And in my heart anointed another that refused to go. If only my lovely granddaughter had a way of knowing, The ones she meant were my ancestors of long, long ago. When I bid her adieu, when I knew I was going, I embraced in her Ṭāriq ibn Ziyād, that Arab hero.

-Nizar Qabbani

We used to meet at dusk Sitting on the old bridge While fog surrounds the hills It covers the road past our sight

No one knows where we are Only the sky and the autumn leafs When you said "I love you" The miserable clouds disappeared

-Al Rahbani Brothers

I tell my neighbor: Come and spend the night with me, I have figs, and almonds, and sugar. We sing, because you are lonely, And singing will ease your longing. I have a home, and a small area of land, So I am safe now. The land of my country is land from heaven, And on it sleeps the painful time. I tell our house: If I am alone, And snow and cold blows, My house is as fire to me, And the winter passes, friendly as a field of roses.

-Al Rahbani Brothers

Self-taught

The failed echo will help me And the tyrannical secrets inspire me! Times of resounding anxiety And a storm hugs me tightly Here the cities of contradiction contain me The countryside of art precedes it I am drawn to the current by self-taught people My heart is steadfast in the war alone

And despite the hatred I prepare for the feverish blindness!

Sakina Al-Sharif

Runaway

She started sifting and refining her pronunciation.. And she floats around her orbit as a constellation, There's a world that tries to assassinate her! Wandering among its ruins, tossing and turning A devastating rhetorical war is brewing She will be crucified with her blood and soil! My article remained free in a collapsing world. The universe is computerized! How they tried to drag me into their den An addiction where originality is undermined They deny their identity... I will not be molded by similar patterns! My art is listening to the voice of nature And my limbs are hidden from those who fall My soul fights alone in the dark

-Sakina Al-Sharif

Does the world escape me like a void?

Have I given up on illusions? Heavy nights train me And the rain of melodies were epics I became aware of war after war The sound of the sword inspired and inspired me! I search my halls and call out To me, to me, O formulated dream

-Sakaina Al-sharif

Kabil

Kabil şimdi şistten yapılmış bir kuşla atıyor Yeryüzüne iner ve onu muazzam ateş yağmurlarıyla yağdırır. Onun ıssızlığından önce kuleler ve evler çöküyor Ölüler toprağın kucağından yukarılara kaçar Cain şimdi tankında dolaşıyor Koyunlar dehşete kapıldı Kabil ahırının duvarını yıkıyor Köyde gece sabaha döndüğü için ahırı uyumaya uygun değil Aşağıya inen ışığın yaydığı Bir ejderhanın dili gibi Kasırga dünyanın yüzünü harap etti

Cain

Cain now beats with a bird made of shale He descends to the earth and showers it- with tremendous rains of fire. Towers and houses collapse before its desolation The dead escape from the embrace of the earth upwards Cain is now floating around in his tank The sheep were terrified Cain is tearing down the wall of his barn Since night turns to morning in the village, the barn is not suitable for sleeping. Emitted by the light coming down Like a dragon's tongue Hurricane ravaged the face of the earth

by: Mohammad Al-Buraiki

The Rain

By sea...towards another space, shaking off my dust. Forgetting my name, the names of plants, and the history of trees.. Escaping from this sun that flogs me with its boredom... Fleeing from cities that slept for centuries under the feet of the moon.. Leaving behind me eyes made of glass and a sky made of stone. I will not go back to the sun... for I now belong to the rainstorms.

by: Nizar Qabbani