Barker BeyondBandungDevelopmental 2008
Barker BeyondBandungDevelopmental 2008
Barker BeyondBandungDevelopmental 2008
Indonesia
Author(s): Joshua Barker
Source: Third World Quarterly , 2008, Vol. 29, No. 3, Developmental and Cultural
Nationalisms (2008), pp. 521-540
Published by: Taylor & Francis, Ltd.
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Third World Quarterly
But what harm is in diversity, when there is unity in desire? This Conference is
not to oppose each other, it is a conference of brotherhood. It is not an Islam
Conference, nor a Christian Conference, nor a Buddhist Conference. It is not a
meeting of Malayans, nor one of Arabs, nor one of Indo-Aryan stock... Rather
it is a body of enlightened, tolerant opinion which seeks to impress on the world
that all men and all countries have their place under the sun to impress upon
the world that it is possible to live together, meet together, speak to each other,
without losing one's individual identity, and yet to contribute to the general
understanding of matters of common concern, and to develop a true
consciousness of the interdependence of men and nations for their wellbeing
and survival on earth. (President Soekarno, speaking at the Bandung
Conference, 1955)1
Joshua Barker is in the Department of Anthropology, University of Toronto, 19 Russell Street, Toronto,
Ontario MSS 2S2, Canada. Email: j.barker@utoronto.ca
Events in Indonesia over the past decade could lead one to conclude that forms
of authoritarian and exclusionary cultural nationalism are on the rise. In Java
in the late 1990s there were numerous riots targeting Indonesia's Chinese and
Christian minorities. In the Moluccas and in central Sulawesi between 1999
and 2001 thousands of people were killed in violence between Christians and
Muslims. In East Timor, Aceh and Papua, longstanding separatist struggles
achieved a new prominence and enjoyed varying degrees of success. On several
occasions since 2002 small groups of jihadists in Indonesia have attracted
international attention with their spectacular and deadly bombings of
nightclubs, restaurants, embassies and hotels. Furthermore, some analysts
have pointed to new laws and public order statutes as evidence of a 'creeping
sharia-tisation' of the legal system.2 All these developments could be used as
the basis for arguing that since the mid-1990s Indonesia has been witnessing a
shift away from a relatively civic and forward-looking form of developmental
nationalism to more chauvinistic forms of nationalism based on reified
understandings of ethnic and religious identities.
On the other hand, other events of the past decade could lead to quite the
opposite conclusion. In the field of electoral politics, for example, parties with
sectarian agendas have been repeatedly trounced at the ballot box; despite a
lengthy economic crisis and the weakening of the authoritarian state,
Indonesians have consistently elected leaders running on platforms that
highlight the importance of ethnic and religious tolerance and inclusiveness.
In addition, since the late 1990s, successive governments in Jakarta have
sought to provide greater legal protection to minority groups, most notably
the ethnic Chinese who have long been subject to discrimination, despite the
economic power of many among them.3 Furthermore, most observers would
probably agree that the force of Java-centrism, which had gradually
permeated the Indonesian bureaucracy during the New Order period,4 has
been significantly diminished. All these facts would seem to indicate that
Indonesia is not witnessing a comprehensive shift from more inclusive to
more chauvinistic forms of nationalism.
This article argues that the Indonesian case is characterised by at least two
important variations on the thesis of a transition from developmental to
cultural nationalism. First, the transition took place with the establishment in
1966 of Soeharto's New Order, much earlier than in most other countries,
and was associated less with neoliberal policies than with a pronounced
capitalist bias which could be combined either with statist or economically
liberal policies. Second, the variants of cultural nationalism that have been
most openly adopted by Indonesia's postcolonial state have been multi
cultural rather than exclusionary in orientation.5 This is only apparently
paradoxical. In Indonesia, as elsewhere, cultural strands of nationalist
ideologies have evolved over a long period of time and, whether ethnic,
religious or philosophical, have been based on appeals either to highly
exclusionary claims of cultural homogeneity or to some form of multi
culturalism. To date, however, only the latter have become hegemonic at the
level of the nation-state as a whole. As I explain below, the real shift between
the classical but short-lived developmental nationalism of Soekarno and
522
523
524
less developed countries of Asia and Africa'; and although they came from
different political persuasions, 'they shared a common abhorrence of
imperialism' and 'a common hope and desire for economic development
110
and social progress'.
The kind of 'development' and progress Soekarno envisaged, both for
Indonesia and for the Third World as a whole, was evident not just in his
speeches but in the staging of the conference itself. The conference was held
in Bandung, a city designed by the Dutch to function as a shining example of
what a modern colonial city could be. Although it had been the site of many
battles and a terrible fire during the war of independence, the remarkable
modernist architecture there, which included examples of Tropical Art Deco
and Art Nouveau buildings, some with roofs and accents inspired by
Minang, Javanese and Sundanese architectural styles, was still very much
apparent. The conference building was an example of this colonial modern
style. Built by Dutch architects as a simple structure in 1895, and then rebuilt
in 1920 and 1928, the building had a Romanesque fa,ade and a decorative
interior that included marble and lamps imported from Europe. The building
was used first as a gathering place for European plantation owners and later
as an elite social club whose members included not only wealthy planters but
also government officials and representatives of an emerging urban
bourgeoisie. Known as the Societeit Concordia, this club was the source of
much resentment during colonial times because all 'natives' other than those
serving European guests were banned from entering there.
For the Third World nationalists gathered there the conference building
acted as a stark reminder of how colonial regimes had buttressed, and in
many cases still were buttressing, economic inequalities with racial apartheid.
President Soekarno was particularly aware of this history. Not only had he
rubbed shoulders with members of the European elite while studying for his
engineering degree at Bandung's Technical School, he had been imprisoned
for his political activism at a jail there. Holding the Asia -Africa conference
in the Societeit, which he renamed the Freedom Building during a pre
conference inspection of the site, was a powerful symbol of the strength of
Third World nationalism and its capacity to defeat colonialism. It also
signified Soekarno's wish to create what he referred to in his opening address
as 'a New Asia and a New Africa'.11
The Bandung conference symbolised the subordination of more restricted
identity-based claims to a broader and higher anti-imperialist solidarity.
Domestically, Soekarno's ambition to promote such solidarity had emerged
in part as a means to address religious, ethnic and ideological divisions
among early anti-colonial groups.12 A sense of the diversity and fault lines of
anti-colonial politics before the Indonesian revolution is provided by the
history of the Sarikat Islam (SI), one of the earliest 'nationalist' movements.13
The Si was an offshoot of an organisation originally established in 1911 as a
racially mixed association for the protection of Islamic and Chinese traders
against bandits in Surakarta. 14 Breaking off from the original organisation to
focus on protecting the interests of the emerging indigenous (pribumi)
bourgeoisie against both Chinese and European competitors, SI quickly
525
526
527
529
Much of the symbol-mongering that went on under the Soekarno regime... .was a
half-deliberate attempt to close the cultural gulf between the state and society
that, if not altogether created by colonial rule, had been enormously widened by
it. The great crescendo of slogans, movements, monuments, and demonstrations
which reached a pitch of almost hysterical intensity in the early sixties was, in part
anyway, designed to make the nation-state seem indigenous.38
530
532
Indonesian) family, where respect for the father (Bapak) was paramount, and
the other based in apolitical developmentalism. The ideological effect of this
fusion was profound: '[By coupling] developmentalism with the idea that the
state and society were part of the same 'big family' [the government was able]
to constitute opposition to itself or its development programs as not only
disloyal, but also an affront to Indonesian cultural norms'.53
In practice the political economy underpinning New Order cultural
nationalism took the very distinctive form of what were known as
development 'projects' (proyek). The vast majority of development projects
were implemented or overseen by the state. The overarching goals for these
projects were laid out in the Five-Year Development Plans produced by the
National Development Planning Board in consultation with relevant
government departments. The realisation of these goals was achieved
through the provision of a budget for a long list of development projects
whose implementation was planned on an annual basis. Since project funding
was distributed independently of the operational budgets that provided for
the day-to-day needs of the salaried bureaucracy, the allocation of projects
became an important mechanism for the distribution of political patronage,
largesse and opportunities for corruption. For officials the successful
implementation of projects was also an important source of prestige and
could lead to promotion through the bureaucratic ranks.
The prominent involvement of state officials in development projects meant
that projects became identified not only with nation-building but also with
state-building. Every new development, from the paving of a village road to
the construction of a new airport, would involve elaborate ground-breaking
and inauguration ceremonies in which officials overseeing the project would
be given centre-stage. There was also a consistent strategy on the part of the
New Order regime to establish a further identification of development projects
with its own political leadership of the government. This identification was
implicit in the patronage system used to distribute projects, which strongly
favoured individuals and groups affiliated with Golkar, the ruling party. It
was also manifest in the fact that, in the months preceding each, largely
ceremonial, general election, the bureaucracy kicked into gear to implement a
flurry of development projects. Suddenly officials rushed to make sure that
villages and urban neighbourhoods were serviced by electricity, telephone
connections, or perhaps an asphalt road. Not all were given this treatment,
however; popular wisdom suggested that only those that had supported
Golkar in the previous election would see a return for their support. So
powerful was this system that, by the end of the New Order, the term proyek,
with its connotations of corruption, regime patronage and money, had
entered the lexicon, used by ordinary people to describe the easiest (and
morally suspect) way of gaining wealth and political influence.
Overall New Order cultural nationalism presented an image of Indonesia
as a superficially diverse but basically unified nation-state on its way to a
richer and more modern future, not through egalitarian economic develop
ment but through capitalism in its 'trickle-down' form. Given that the
majority of the population did not stand to benefit from this new political
535
economy, it was not surprising that the regime was also constructed on a
foundation of fear and hatred. The kinds of hatred and fear that circulated
beneath the surface were diverse and included, among many others, the
hatred and resentment of 'the Chinese' for their apparent wealth, animosity
between Christians and Muslims, the hatred of Javanese migrants in the
outer islands, fear of the army's violence, fear of the 'latent danger' (bahaya
laten) of communism and other 'movements to disturb security' (Gerakan
Pengacau Keamanan), fear of thuggery (premanisme), and fear of radical
Islam. Diverse as these fears were, members of the oligarchy and the rest of
the politico-bureaucratic elite could make use of them to threaten and
intimidate their political opponents and economic challengers. Thus, for
instance, anti-Chinese riots could be used to remind Chinese businesspeople
how much they depended on the army for their security; a growing appeal to
Islamic identity within the government could be used to undermine the power
of nationalists within the armed forces. More generally both the suggestion of
underlying conflict and real eruptions of violence could be used to justify the
regime's continuing repressive policies.
536
have met with negligible success. Similarly, attempts by the IMF and other
lenders to impose neoliberal reforms on the Indonesian economy have not
yielded any fundamental changes in elite power (although they have helped
to make it much more acceptable for politicians to publicly embrace liberal
economic policies).55 The oligarchy has loosened up somewhat, since the
most prominent oligarchs of the New Order have been pushed off centre
stage, but the basic structure of the national elite has remained largely
intact.56 What has changed is the relation of this elite to its less powerful
counterparts in the regions. One of the centrepieces of governmental reforms
has been a programme of decentralisation in which a good deal of
administrative and budgetary authority is devolved onto district and
municipal governments. As a result of this reform, local elites have gained
a greater autonomy from Jakarta and have started to establish local versions
of the alliances that underpin the authority of the politico-bureaucratic elite.
The competitive nature of this process may partly explain the mushrooming
of social and political organisations that define themselves in ethnic, religious
or regional terms: they are there to serve the more particularistic political and
ideological needs of increasingly powerful local politico-bureaucratic elites.57
The national elite may be less unified than it was in the past but it remains
extremely powerful. Consequently, it is more than likely that improvements
in the Indonesian economy will be accompanied by a return to the ideologies
of cultural nationalism with which this elite is most familiar: pribumi
nationalism, Javanism, moderate (and fragmented) Islamism, and multi
culturalism. While the need for ideological renewal may lead some politicians
to invoke the rhetoric of a more populist developmental nationalism, the
interests of the politico-bureaucratic elite will undoubtedly dictate national
development policies in the last instance.
At the regional level the dynamics are more complex. As Jacques Bertrand
has shown, elite compromises over the definition of the nation have led over
the past half-century to a situation in which many groups feel they have been
kept out or left out of the Indonesian nation and its 'development'. 58 Over the
past several years, as economic and administrative power has been devolved
and regional politics has become more highly contested, appeals to more
exclusionary forms of cultural nationalism have thus emerged at the local
level. Even in Bandung, where overt ethnic politics were largely absent for
four decades, political organisations appealing to Sundanese ethnic identity
have started to appear. However, it would be easy to overstate the significance
of this kind of development. Although the rise of regional elites could go some
way to re-politicising multicultural nationalism, the entrenched power of the
national elite will make it difficult for exclusionary forms of social
mobilisation to gain any sustained traction beyond the local level.
Notes
I would like to thank Radhika Desai and the two anonymous readers for this Special Issue for their
insights, comments and criticisms on previous drafts of this article. I am also grateful to Michael Bodden
and to all the other participants in the Asian Nationalisms Project for their help in shaping the arguments
537
presented here. Support for the research and writing of this article was provided by the Social Sciences and
Humanities Research Council of Canada.
1 Quoted in GM Kahin, The Asian-African Conference, Bandung, Indonesia, April, 1955, Ithaca, NY:
Cornell University Press, 1956, p 48.
2 J Olle, 'Islamic "heresy", the Majelis Ulama Indonesia, and the privatisation of the state', paper
presented at State Authority Workshop Two, kitlv Royal Netherlands Institute of Southeast Asian
and Caribbean Studies, Leiden, 14-15 December 2005.
3 S Turner, 'Speaking out: Chinese Indonesians after Suharto', Asian Ethnicity, 4 (3), 2003, pp 337-352.
4 MT Berger, 'Old state and new empire in Indonesia: debating the rise and decline of Suharto's New
Order', Third World Quarterly, 18 (2), 2004, pp 321-362; and J Pemberton, On the Subject of 'Java',
Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1994.
5 D Henley, 'Ethnogeographic integration and exclusion in anticolonial nationalism: Indonesia and
Indochina', Comparative Studies in Society and History, 37, 1995, pp 286-324.
6 R Desai, 'Nation against democracy: the rise of cultural nationalism in Asia', in F Quadir & J Lele
(eds), Democracy and Civil Society in Asia, Vol 1, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004, pp 96-97.
7 A Heryanto, 'The development of development', Indonesia, 46, 1988, pp 1-24.
8 I Chalmers & VR Hadiz (eds), The Politics of Economic Development in Indonesia: Contenting
Perspectives, London: Routledge, 1997.
9 In those days the Third World referred not to poor or underdeveloped countries but to the bloc of
countries that had chosen to chart a 'third way' between capitalism and communism and had refused
to align themselves with either side in the Cold War.
10 CP Romulo, The Meaning of Bandung, Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1956, p 3.
11 Kahin, The Asian-African Conference, p 50.
12 A similar concern marked early developmental nationalism in India. As Zachariah has noted, 'The
vision of India to which Nehru remained publicly committed depended upon the disarming of sectarian
tendencies through the delivery of economic progress for everyone, "irrespective of caste, creed,
religion or sex" as the phrase went'. B Zachariah, Nehru, London: Routledge, 2004, p 151.
13 On the history of Islamic nationalism in colonial Indonesia, see MF Laffan, Islamic Nationhood and
Colonial Indonesia: The Umma Below the Winds, London: Routledge, 2003.
14 T Shiraishi, 'Anti-Sinicism in Java's New Order', in D Chirot & A Reid (eds), Essential Outsiders:
Chinese and Jews in the Modern Transformation of Southeast Asia and Central Europe, Seattle, WA:
University of Washington Press, 1997, p 191.
15 Ibid, pp 190-194.
16 C van Dijk, 'Communist Muslims in the Dutch East Indies', in C van Dijk & AH de Groot (eds), State
and Islam, Leiden: Research school CNWS, 1996, pp 77-95. With a great deal of support from abangan
Muslims, and despite severe repression from colonial authorities, the PKI grew over the next three
decades to become the largest communist party in the world outside China and the USSR.
17 H Feith & L Castles (eds), Indonesian Political Thinking, 1945-1965, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press, 1970, p 201.
18 Soekarno, Nationalism, Islam, and Marxism, trans KH Warouw & PD Weldon, Ithaca, NY: Cornell
University, Modern Indonesia Project, 1970.
19 In their analysis of Indonesian political thinking between 1945 and 1965, Feith and Castles add two
more streams to this typology, namely Javanese traditionalism and democratic socialism. Feith &
Castles, Indonesian Political Thinking, pp 12-16.
20 RT McVey, 'Introduction', in Soekarno, Nationalism, Islam, and Marxism, pp 1-34; and C Geertz,
The Religion of Java, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1960.
21 Feith & Castles, Indonesian Political Thinking, p 1.
22 J Barker, 'Engineers and political dreams: Indonesia in the satellite age', Current Anthropology, 46 (5),
2005, pp 703-727.
23 Modernisation theory, which gained currency in government and academic circles in the USA during
the 1950s, also emphasised the importance of technological advancement; it envisioned development as
following a unilinear path from a traditional agrarian stage to a modern, urban industrial stage, with
new technology, capital investments and technical know-how providing the means for economic 'take
off from one stage to the next. For a discussion of the differences between modernisation theory and
Soekarno's type of developmental nationalism in the domain of policies regarding agricultural
development, see SM Moon, 'Takeoff or self-sufficiency? Ideologies of development in Indonesia,
1957-1961', Technology and Culture, April 1998, pp 187-212.
24 R Robison, 'Authoritarian states, capital-owning classes, and the politics of newly industrializing
countries: the case of Indonesia', World Politics, 41 (1), 1988, p 59.
25 Soekarno's embrace of an ideology of autonomous national development became all the more
pronounced as a result of cold war politics. Policy makers and bureaucrats in the US government,
many of whom were haunted by their failure to prevent China from 'falling' to communism, viewed
538
Soekarno with suspicion since he did not repudiate communism. As a result, during the 1950s and
1960s, the US government took a number of steps aimed at subverting Soekarno's rule and stoking
regional rebellions. See GM Kahin & AR Kahin, Subversion as Foreign Policy: The Secret Eisenhower
and Dulles Debacle in Indonesia, New York: New Press, 1995. These efforts had the ironic effect of
cementing Soekarno's conviction that the only way to overcome neo-colonial interventions was by
achieving autonomous national development.
26 JM van der Kroef, 'Soekarno, the ideologue', Pacific Affairs, 41 (2), 1968, p 246.
27 Nasution, cited in D Ramage, Politics in Indonesia: Democracy, Islam and Ideology of Tolerance,
London: Routledge, 1995, p 18.
28 Ramage, Politics in Indonesia, p 14.
29 C van Dijk, 'Islam, nationalism, and decolonization in Indonesia', paper presented at 'D?colonisations
compar?es, Colloque International', Institut D'Histoire des Pays D'Outre-Mer, University of
Provence, Aix-en-Provence, 30 September-3 October 1993.
30 H Horikoshi, 'The Dar'ul Islam movement in West Java (1948-62): an experience in the historical
process', Indonesia, 20, 1975, pp 58-86.
31 S Jones, 'The changing nature of Jemaah Islamiyah', Australian Journal of International Affairs, 59 (2),
2005, pp 169-178.
32 S Soemardjan, 'Some social and cultural implications of Indonesia's unplanned and planned
development', Review of Politics, January 1963, pp 64-90.
33 H Geertz, 'Indonesian cultures and communities', in R McVey (ed), Indonesia, New Haven:
HRAF Press, 1963, pp 33-38; and McVey 'Introduction' in Soekarno, Nationalism, Islam and
Marxism.
34 H Sutherland, The Making of a Bureaucratic Elite: The Colonial Transformation of the Javanese
Priyayi, Singapore: Heinemann Educational Books, published for the Asian Studies Association of
Australia, 1979.
35 As Tom Nairn put it some time ago, 'the new middle-class intelligentsia of nationalism had to invite the
masses into history: and the invitation-card had to be written in a language they understood'. Nairn,
The Break-Up of Britain, London: New Left Books, 1977, p 340.
36 Soemardjan, 'Some social and cultural implications of Indonesia's unplanned and planned
development', pp 80-81.
37 Ibid, p 68.
38 C Geertz, 'The politics of meaning', in Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures, New York: Basic Books,
1973, p 318.
39 R Robison, Indonesia: The Rise of Capital, Sydney: Asian Studies Association of Australia, 1986, p 80.
40 Ibid, p 98.
41 I Chalmers & VR Hadiz (eds), The Politics of Economic Development in Indonesia: Contending
Perspectives, London: Routledge, 1997.
42 See Robison 'Authoritarian states, capital-owning classes, and the politics of newly industrializing
countries'; and JA Winters, Power in Motion: Capital Mobility and the Indonesian State, Ithaca, NY:
Cornell University Press, 1996.
43 Chalmers & Hadiz, The Politics of Economic Development in Indonesia, pp 141-143.
44 The pariah status of the Chinese has a long history dating back to colonial times, but Soeharto-era
policies singled out Chinese Indonesians for discrimination by banning Chinese holidays, Chinese
language schools, and anything written in Chinese characters. See RW Hefner 'Shariah formalism or
democratic communitarianism? The Islamic resurgence and political theory', in CB Huat (ed),
Communitarian Politics in Asia, London: Routledge, 2004, p 138.
45 RW Hefner, Tslamization and democratization in Indonesia', in RW Hefner & P Horvatich (eds),
Islam in an Era of Nation-States: Politics and Religious Renewal in Muslim Southeast Asia, Honolulu,
HI: University of Hawai'i Press, pp 95-97.
46 The New Order sought to gain control over Islamic politics by incorporating both traditionalists and
modernists into one political party and by bureaucratising religion. The latter policy was particularly
effective with modernists, who were more susceptible to bureaucratic manipulation. It was less
successful with traditionalists, who remained marginalised, and emerged as some of the most vocal
critics of the regime. See R McVey, 'Faith as the outsider: Islam in Indonesian polities', in JP Piscatori
(ed), Islam in Political Process, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983, p 206. On the role
played by the marginalisation of Islam in fomenting anti-Chinese unrest, see JT Sidel, Riots, Pogroms,
Jihad: Religious Violence in Indonesia, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2006, pp 50-56.
47 KG George, 'Designs on Indonesia's Muslim communities', Journal of Asian Studies, 57 (3), 1998, pp
698-701.
48 See, for example, GJ Aditjondro, 'Suharto's fires', Inside Indonesia, January-March 2001, at http://
serve.com/inside/edit65/aditijondro.htm, accessed 30 March 2007.
49 Kroef, 'Soekarno, the ideologue', p 260.
539
50 Even as a dogma Pancasila provided a means for various political groupings to distinguish themselves
from one another. As Ramage has noted, the core political groupings within the New Order regime,
which included modernist Muslims, traditionalist Muslims, nationalists, and the army, distinguished
themselves by ordering the principles in different ways. Ramage, Politics in Indonesia.
51 See Pemberton, On the Subject of 'Java', p 156; JT Siegel, Fetish, Recognition, Revolution, Princeton,
NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997, p 4; and B Simon & J Barker, 'Imagining the New Order nation:
materiality and hyperreality in Indonesia', Culture, Theory & Critique, 43 (2), 2000, p 143.
52 D Bourchier & VR Hadiz, 'Introduction', in D Bourchier & VR Hadiz (eds), Indonesian Politics and
Society: A Reader, London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003, p 9.
53 Ibid.
54 VR Hadiz, 'The failure of state ideology in Indonesia: the rise and demise of Pancasila', in Huat,
Communitarian Politics in Asia, London: Routledge, 2004, p 158.
55 VR Hadiz & R Robison, 'Neo-liberal reforms and illiberal consolidations: the Indonesian paradox',
Journal of Development Studies, 41 (2), 2005, pp 220-241.
56 R Robison, G Rodan & K Hewison, 'Transplanting the neoliberal state in Southeast Asia', in R Boyd
& T-W Ngo (eds), Asian States: Beyond the Developmental Perspective, London: Routledge, 2005,
p 191.
57 To some extent, the 'regional autonomy' policy is a response to longstanding grievances about centre
periphery inequalities. Local elites and ordinary people, particularly in resource-rich areas, have
become much more vocal about these grievances since the end of the New Order. See, for example, M
Malley 'Class, region and culture: the sources of social conflict in Indonesia', in VA Keiles et al (eds),
Social Cohesion and Conflict in Asia: Managing Diversity through Development, Washington, DC:
World Bank, 2001, pp 357-358.
58 J Bertrand, Nationalism and Ethnic Conflict in Indonesia, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2004.
540