‘Beyond Unsettled Past': Revisiting Indonesia's colonial legacies

Korea Herald

3 days ago

JAKARTA, Indonesia (Jakarta Post/ANN) -- Colonialism is a dark chapter in history that few wish to revisit. For former colonizers, it evokes shame over past cruelties and injustice; for the colonized, it stirs pain, and perhaps anger, at having been dominated and silenced. And yet, whether we acknowledge it or not, the impacts of colonialism still linger, like a ghost in the shadows.
Rather than keeping them hidden and hopefully forgotten, the Dutch cultural center Erasmus Huis has chosen to confront them. Until Nov. 1, its exhibition hall hosts "Beyond Unsettled Past." a powerful showcase that reckons with the enduring legacies of Dutch colonialism in Indonesia.
"The legacy of colonialism is not confined to history books," said Nicolaas de Regt, director of Erasmus Huis. "It lives in landscapes, institutions, language, power, identity and memories."
"For some people, it's a painful one," he continued. "For others, a responsibility. But I think, for all, it's unfinished."
The idea began when De Regt visited "Imprints." a 2024 exhibition at the Wereldmuseum in Amsterdam. Back in Jakarta, he partnered with historian and curator Sadiah Boonstra and assistant curator Sukiato Khurniawan to craft a similar project from an entirely Indonesian perspective.
They brought together six artists, namely Arahmaiani, Budi Agung Kuswara, Dita Gambiro, Eldwin Pradipta, Elia Nurvista and Maharani Mancanagara, to present works that reflect the lasting imprints of colonialism on Indonesian society.
Seeds of exploitation
The exhibition opens with "Long Hanging Fruits" (2023), an installation by Elia Nurvista. Miniature oil palm trees sprout from a tiered platform, each revealing a pair of booted feet at the roots, a haunting nod to the exploited labor that sustains this industry.
Indonesia is currently the world's largest producer of palm oil. Yet the industry also causes massive deforestation, displacement of indigenous communities and biodiversity loss.
"The plant is not native to Indonesia," said assistant curator Sukiato during the curatorial tour on July 19. "In 1848, the Dutch brought four oil palm seeds from Africa and cultivated them in Kebun Raya Bogor."
Established by the Dutch colonial government, the Bogor Botanical Gardens served as a living laboratory where foreign plants considered valuable for trade or medicine were acclimatized and propagated in Indonesia.
"At one point, the botanical garden was also used as a research site for cinchona by Junghuhn, in efforts to treat malaria," Sukiato added. "So, as you can see, colonialism had both its upsides and downsides."
Exoticized and dehumanized
Balinese artist Budi Agung Kuswara presents a visually arresting mixed-media painting titled "Anonymous Deities from the East" (2024). Towering at 200 by 145 centimeters, the work depicts a Balinese woman in an ornate ball gown, her head crowned with a traditional ceremonial headdress. She stands in what resembles a European royal parlor, adorned with gilded mirrors, candles, lace-draped curtains and fine china. A striking parrot perches just above her.
"Budi derived this woman's figure from archival photographs taken by Dutch anthropologists who came to Bali between the late 1800s and early 1900s," explained Sukiato.
At the time, many Balinese women were customarily topless, and that is how they appeared in the photographs, documented without names, ages or occupations. Treated as anonymous objects, they were exoticized and stripped of identity.
"So Budi breathes life into her," Sukiato added. "Through this painting, he gives her a kind of role reversal, imagining her as a rich European woman, rewriting the narrative."
Racial sentiments
Dita Gambiro and Eldwin Pradipto examine the racial segregation enforced by the Dutch colonial government beginning in 1740. This policy significantly shaped the physical layout and social fabric of many Indonesian cities, a legacy that remains visible today.
Eldwin's video installation "Wijkenstelsel" (2017) overlays a montage of global Chinatown imagery onto an archival map of 19th-century Bandung's Chinatown, printed on faux leather and sourced from Leiden.
"During the colonial era, people were separated by ethnicity and not allowed to leave their designated areas," Eldwin said. "As the population grew, these neighborhoods became overcrowded and riddled with crime and disease. But now, Chinatowns are celebrated as tourist and culinary hubs."
He explained that segregation had long fostered prejudice, often fueling racial violence.
"It may be necessary to dig into the past in order to mend the present and shape a more inclusive future," Eldwin said. "Chinese-Indonesians are also part of Indonesia."
Abimanyu, a visitor from Bandung, West Java, praised the installation.
"It's visually interesting and educational," he said. "Many people don't realize that the Chinese were made to seem exclusive on purpose. According to a book I read, the Dutch deliberately gave them unpopular roles, as in tax collecting and opium selling, to redirect public resentment away from the colonial rulers."
Dita Gambiro revisits the violence of 1998 through two installations and a charcoal painting. Her miniature shop-houses, crafted from plywood, iron wire and cement, are heavily trellised and barred, echoing post-riot architecture in Pasar Kebayoran Lama, South Jakarta.
"These works were inspired by my own personal experience," Dita said. "I live near Pasar Kebayoran Lama. After the riots, I noticed that people rebuilt, but with bars on every window. Some even bricked them up entirely."
Her charcoal drawing imagines life behind these barred shop-houses.
"I've never been inside one," she said. "But I imagine it must feel truly isolating. Like being in prison."
Assistant curator Sukiato, who grew up in a trellised Chinatown shop-house in Pekanbaru, related deeply.
"Sometimes there's tension," he said. "Neighbors think we keep to ourselves."
He recalled a relative witnessing a family trapped behind barred windows during a fire, burned alive, unable to escape.
"It's a painful reality," he said quietly. "But many still choose to live this way, because threats of violence against Chinese-Indonesians remain very real."
History written by victors
On the adjoining wall, Maharani Mancanagara presents "Allegory of Cornucopia" (2023), an acrylic painting on wood crafted to resemble a bas-relief. Drawing from Indonesia's sculptural traditions, the work celebrates natural abundance and daily life, a quiet contrast to European bas-reliefs, which often glorify war and conquest.
"It's their way of deciding who the hero is," said Sukiato.
Returning to local wisdom
In a poignant conclusion to the exhibition, renowned artist Arahmaiani presents "The Flag Project" (2006), an installation of 25 vibrant flags suspended from the ceiling. Each flag displays a word, such as Komunitas (Community), Love, Justice and many others, written in a variety of scripts and alphabets.
Launched in 2006 after a deadly earthquake struck Yogyakarta, the project began with community discussions about the values people held most dear. Women artisans then embroidered these words onto flags, which were carried through the streets as symbols of healing. Since then, the initiative has traveled across Asia, Australia and Europe, gradually evolving into a global collaboration.
"These core values are rooted in local wisdom, which existed long before colonialism arrived," said historian and curator Sadiah. "We believe they may hold the key to moving beyond the unsettled past."
Rahardjo Djali, sultan of the Kasepuhan Palace in Cirebon, West Java, attended the exhibition's opening night and commended it as "inspirational."
"The exhibition reminds us of colonialism's impact, not to stir resentment, but to remember," he said.
He acknowledged that Dutch rule left behind both beauty and pain. His palace still houses exquisite Delft tiles, including some depicting the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. More unsettling, however, is the legacy of Snouck Hurgronje, a Dutch scholar sent to infiltrate local resistance. After marrying a local woman, his grandson Alexander was controversially crowned Sultan Sepuh XII and ruled in the Kasepuhan Palace from 1942 to 1969.