Indonesian President, Joko Widodo, mobbed by supporters outside the Badung Market, Bali, last week. Photo: Bryan Denton/New York Times.
Comrades,
If you think some crazy bat-shit went down in The Wide Brown Land last weekend, it's perhaps worth taking a passing interest in the brave beserking that's been shakin' with the Miracle of Democracy in other parts.
It was pleasing to see Jokowi re-elected to a second term as President of Indonesia. What's not to like about a youngish moderate technocrat with a penchant for heavy metal on the stereo? It's ironic that his victory was announced 21 years to the very day since mass pro-democracy protests toppled Suharto. There's been some argy-bargy on the streets of Jakarta with a bit of isolated rioting here and there, but the local cops say that's down to a paid rent-a-mob, and six violent deaths in a day is small beer in a town of well over ten million. In any case, it was, according to international observers, a "free and fair election", and with the Electoral Commission declaring Jokowi a comfortable winner over Prabowo Subianto [who was once married to Suharto's daughter] with about 85 million votes to his name, there's no room for any serious challenge to his authority.
To his credit, Jokowi's been on the education and social welfare case as well as pouring mountains of infrastructure cash into the provinces, and he's even started work on the decades overdue Jakarta Underground [and conveniently opened the first 16km of track just before the election], while talking ever-so wistfully of moving the capital out of Jakarta to a purpose built city. Yeah, right, mate. Never mind that the "very fast" train from Jakarta to Bandung will now be a "medium fast" train, after realising the scope and complexity of the project was beyond them, even with the injection of Chinese billions. Jokowi was sensible enough there not to set himself up to fail. He's on a mission to produce a thoroughly modern Indonesia and the world's 4th largest economy by 2030, and his push for the acceptance of cultural and religious diversity has of course seen him labelled as a "secret Christian". So, it was a very smart political move to pick the elderly and most revered Islamic cleric in the country, Ma'ruf Amin, as his Vice Presidential running-mate. All bases covered.
However, Jokowi has at least one thorn in his side that won't go away - West Papua, and his point blank refusal to do anything about it. The Free West Papua movement is not a sexy subject, but the UN Human Rights Commission and the UN Committee of 24 (Special Committee on Decolonisation) have finally lost patience. The Indonesians were taught very well in the ways of Imperialism by their former colonial masters, the Dutch. The occupation of East Timor was as plain as day for all to see, and Portugal and Australia were not only compliant, but complicit by default in it, and after 29 years of war, and 16 years of independence it still deeply haunts the joint. I have never been to an 'edgier' place in my life. The West Papuans, of course, haven't been as militant as Fretilin, as they know they've never been a match for the Indonesian military, so without intervention, they're snookered. Good luck to UN Secretary General António Guterres - who's just done a swing through the South Pacific Islands - telling the ni-Vanuatu he'd like to go visit their Melanesian brothers and sisters in West Papua and have a snoop around some day. The last outsider to do that was a Polish dude, Jakob Skrzypski, who snuck in there under the radar for a look-see last year, and is now doing five years in an Indonesian jailhouse. As it stands, West Papua is simply off limits to the outside world.
In India meantime, the Himalayan avalanche-style of a landslide re-election of Narendra Modi will be an terrible tragedy for the country, as hard-line Hindu nationalism will continue to be given a free ticket to ride, at the awful expense of the Muslim minority and the Untouchables. It will set the jewel of the East back decades, despite Modi bringing electricity to virtually every village in the country that wants it for the first time. There's votes in that. There are dire warnings that the unique Islamic Indian traditions and institutions will be destroyed and their history will be erased, as the mob shouts "if you don't love it here, fuck-off to Pakistan". There's even an anti-intellectual back-lash against the English speaking bureaucracy, and the highly educated classes of young professionals are leaving the country in droves as fast as they can, as they see no future for them at all in a Modi India. Don't get me started on their attitude towards women. Any dreams India ever had of being a significant player on the world stage are now gone, cactus. There's troubles ahead on the sub-continent.
meantime, up there in Japan, the Prime Minister has changed his name. From now on he is to be known as Abe Shinzo, not Shinzo Abe...restoring the Japanese tradition of putting the family name first. With a new monarch on the Chrysanthemum Throne, an emeritus Emperor, and a new name for the next Royal dynasty, you have to fear it's another continuation of the return to Japanese nationalism, that will make the country more insular than ever. They've got real demographic problems as time marches on, but they're in denial - no worries, a bit of myth and ancient magic will do the trick.
And over in the Ukraine, the TV comedian Volodymyr Zelenskiy, best known for his portrayal of a fictional President, is sworn in as the real President after campaigning on a platform of VOTE FOR THE FUNNY GUY! and some vague promises to rein in corruption, after winning in a veritable landslide at the polls. Populist politics gone mad. Good luck with that, son. Old mate Vlad The Impaler in the Kremlin will be as happy as Larry dealing with a feather light-weight, knowing that his annexation of the Crimea is now complete and unchallengable - speaking of imperialism.
Oh, and in late breaking news, it seems the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, Telfon Tessa, has been given the tap on the shoulder and told the game's up. How she survived this long is anyone's guess, as the British continue to get themselves tied up in untanglable knots over casting themselves adrift somewhere in the direction of Iceland. Isolationism at its finest. And who's next for No.10? The Turnip Man, Bonkers Boris?
So, in the grand scheme of things, the inevitable navel gazing and factional infighting in the ALP to find a new leader pales into insignificance and is both inane and utterly and totally predictable. DJ Albo will get the Opposition Leader's job for the time being. He can cast himself as a Miracle Victim, and get to work on the only hobby he lists in his Who's Who entry - "beating Tories". As much as I love Comrade Albo to bits - a seasoned veteran in the Dark Arts and a number cruncher par excellence - I am truly sorry, but that bobble head, that face, and especially that voice...oh dear...simply un-electable. That said, and in Albo's defence, the nation in its infinite wisdom has voted ScoMo back in, and his dial is very plainly less than attractive on the "fuckability" scale, his balding bonce actually benefits from a baseball cap and you have to shove a foaming frostie in his gob to stop him yabbering on in tongues. With the amount of grog he knocked back on the hustings, soon enough, Scotty will take a leaf out of the Albo Ale book and get his own Scomo's Sherbet Suds, with a flatttering portrait of him on the can. Albo'll take the Poisoned Chalice for the time being, because he might not get another chance, but he better watch his back - in fact he better be constantly pirouetting around in circles 24/7 looking over his shoulder for lurking danger, otherwise, ten months out from the next election he'll get knifed by Tanya. The Tories have set the precedent, and the Pinko's are just as brutal as that other mob, don't you worry about that.
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