Underage women in the commercial sex trade
Teguh P Nugroho and Jeff Herbert
It’s humid on Jalan Latuharhary in Jakarta. Just minutes down the
road from the President’s house, the smell of reheated cooking fat
hangs in the air, interfused with clove cigarettes and benzene. When
it’s this hot it can be hard to think, hard to notice, hard to see
what’s happening.
There’s a group of motorcycle taxis at the red light and the beggar
woman clutching her belongings in a rolled up sarong. Just across the
road from the offices of the Indonesian National Human Rights
Commission and the National Commission Against Violence to Women, some
guys are setting up a blue marquee metres from the railway track. The
seductively intertwined disco-Arabic beats of dangdut crank up from
over-pumped homemade speakers.
It would be easy to miss them in the grimey twilight, but the two
women waiting for the traffic to pass stand out from the huddled groups
of homeward bound staff from the nearby government offices. They could
be mother and daughter – one forty the other nudging fifteen. But maybe
not. It is hard to know on this street at this time. There’s too much
make-up, too much perfume, too much polyester and big hair. Too much
fear and uncertainty in the eyes of the younger woman, too much
insistence and intent in the eyes of the older.
Jalan Latuharhary is a seemingly unremarkable street running
literally metres from one of Jakarta’s busy train lines. At night under
the cover of tarpaulin marquees, however, young girls are being bought
and sold. Customers come and place an order with a middleman. Several
weeks later, when a girl has been found, the customer will return to
the marquees.
And so it goes, across the Indonesian archipelago, night after night, the story repeating itself over and over.
The practice of ‘ijon’
According to recent data from the Indonesian Ministry of Social
Affairs, forty thousand children are exploited through commercial sex
work in Indonesia. Accurate numbers are hard to quantify, but anecdotal
evidence suggests that this figure is the statistical tip of a
mountainous iceberg.
UNICEF’s End Child Exploitation campaign also estimates that
children comprise around 30 per cent of people working in commercial
sex work in Indonesia. Indonesia is also a major source of trafficked
children, particularly to Malaysia, Singapore, Taiwan and Japan.
Like the children ‘employed’ as street beggars in Jakarta, or the
underage workers in Bandung clothing factories, the journey of
exploitation usually begins in their home village with a highly
structured practice known as ‘ijon’.
A broker will approach a poor family and offer a ‘loan’ of up to two
million rupiah (A$ 260). The family then repays the debt by bonding one
of their children (usually a school age daughter) for a period of two
years or more. Most families believe their child will be taken to the
city for training as a domestic aide, handicraft worker, or even as a
movie star. The reality couldn’t be further from the dream.
Families rarely hear from their child again, and if they do, it is
usually only after the two-year bonded period is served. The brokers
colloquially refer to children acquired through ijon as ‘ayam potong’.
While literally meaning ‘chopped chicken’, conceptually this term
translates as a new prostitute (ayam), carved off (potong) from her
family.
A downward spiral
Once the initial transaction between the broker and the family is
completed, the child is then temporarily moved to a holding house in a
city such as Indramayu in North Java. She is given a new wardrobe,
taught make-up and dancing, and is then deemed ready to be moved to the
point of sale.
On the island of Batam, visiting tourists from Singapore, Malaysia
and Western countries can buy a child for between two and five million
rupiah. The act of forcibly taking a young girl’s virginity fetches the
highest price. Many buyers believe it will give them longevity and
strength, or even cure diseases such as HIV.
The child is then passed on among the pimp network in an
incrementally downwards spiral through the countless nightclubs,
karaoke bars, spas and massage joints in the major cities and tourist
hot-spots of Indonesia, such as Batam, Bali and Pontianak. It ends at
the lowest rungs of the sex industry – maybe again in the blue marquees
along the Jalan Latuharhary railway tracks. Here the price can be
cheaper and time spent with the girl longer. Up to a month, if the
buyer provides the accommodation.
Should they manage to evade HIV, serious physical injury from
continuous abuse, or not fall foul of some disgruntled pimp along the
way, girls are ‘free’ to return to their village and families after the
two-year bonded period. Most instead opt to continue on as freelance
sex workers or become part of an organised street outfit.
The shame they feel about their experience and the lack of
employment opportunities back in the village render family
reunification seemingly untenable. Almost as untenable as the
protections promised to vulnerable children when Indonesia ratified the
Convention on the Rights of Child (CRC) in 1990.
Supply and demand
Institutionalised paedophilia and child prostitution in Indonesia
stem from a highly complex equation of supply and demand. Supply is fed
by low incomes, endemic poverty, limited work opportunities for women,
discrimination, inadequate education and an overall lack of community
awareness.
Demand is sustained by the vast resources of organised crime, lax or
corrupt law enforcement, bureaucratic indifference, and beliefs that
diminish the status of women and tacitly condone violence against them.
To be effective, any response to the problem must comprise a
coordinated and well resourced array of separate initiatives addressing
all factors in the supply and demand equation. Key players must include
governments at the highest levels, regional neighbours, civil society,
the police, educators, international donors, human rights bodies,
community leaders and provincial welfare programs.
There are already some innovative programs in place including those
backed by international donors such as UNICEF, the International
Organization for Migration, Save the Children, AusAID and the
International Catholic Migration Commission.
A highly committed network of Indonesian NGOs does its best to
provide on-the-ground responses ranging from education, awareness
raising and advocacy, to emergency accommodation, rehabilitation and
community development approaches. Some of the key organisations
include: Care Foundation Indonesia (Bandungwangi), Star Children
(ALIT), the Foundation for Indonesian Children’s Welfare (YKAI), the
Indonesian Institute for Children’s Advocacy (LAAI), the Child Advocacy
Network (JARAK), the Centre for the Study and Protection of Children
(PKPA), the Indonesian Women’s Association for Justice (LBH-APIK), and
Friends of the Children of Indonesia (PRAI). Their responses, however, can only ever be as effective as the finite limits of their funding.
On the demand side, there are renewed efforts between regional
governments, donor nations and police to enhance domestic and
cross-border cooperation in monitoring, detecting and deterring (if not
prosecuting) perpetrators and their collaborators. But again, limited
resourcing and effort is spread widely across other equally significant
priorities such as counter-terrorism, illegal immigration, HIV
education and prevention, responses to devastating natural disasters,
governance reform, and economic development.
Efforts in these areas will certainly have spin-off benefits for the
fight against child trafficking and prostitution, but the issue itself
must remain a distinct priority on all government and donor action
agendas.
New laws
In 2003, the Indonesian government took an important step in
tackling this issue by passing new child protection legislation which
articulates the basic rights of children to liberty, identity,
education, health, recreation and protection from economic and sexual
exploitation. The law provides specific sanctions against violators of
children’s rights.
Following on from this legislation, in 2003 the National Commission for the Protection of Children (Komnas Perlindungan Anak) was established by presidential
decree. The commission was set up to monitor Indonesia’s implementation
of the CRC (particularly as reflected in the new domestic legislation)
and to conduct research into the protection of children’s rights in
Indonesia.
Yet the scope of the commission’s work is restricted by inadequate
levels of funding for staff and infrastructure from the annual state
budget. Similarly, despite the provision of sanctions in the new laws
for those who violate the rights of children, in reality, few cases
have made it to the courts. There are also inconsistencies in
enforcement of the law by regional police. The US State Department
cites instances of government officials, police and soldiers operating
or protecting brothels that employ underage sex workers, and of corrupt
civil servants falsifying identity documents to facilitate the entry of
underage girls into the sex trade.
Indonesian police have recently demonstrated enormous capability in
clamping down on illicit drug use in nightclubs across Indonesia.
Likewise, corrupt and complicit police are more than ever under the
scrutiny of public accountability. Is it too unrealistic to expect that
the same capabilities be targeted to the protection of children and the
prosecution of those who abuse them?
An international issue
Crowded boatloads of men travel each weekend to ‘play’ in the
islands of the Riau archipelago. Yet over the course of a decade,
Singapore successfully engineered one of the lowest smoking rates per
capita in the world.
To what extent could the same ingenuity and effort be applied to
re-socialising attitudes that degrade the status of women, challenging
destructive sexual beliefs, and increasing the public shame factor for
the forceful theft and abuse of a child’s dignity and future?
It is also too easy to escape from confronting child exploitation in
South East Asia and to dismiss it as a symptomatic problem that won’t
go away until other social and economic anomalies are addressed.
A lesson can be learnt from the dangdut that blares out in the
evenings along the Lathuharhary railway tracks. Play it loud enough and
the rhythm can be heard from miles away. The volume needs to be
increased in the protection of vulnerable Indonesian children and in
confronting an entrenched pattern of crime that destroys lives as much
as any single act of terrorism or sale of narcotics.
Teguh P Nugroho (teguh@komnasham.go.id) is an Indonesian human rights activist and investigator based in Jakarta.
Jeff Herbert (jeff.herbert@ekit.com)
is an adviser who has worked with the Indonesian National Human Rights
Commission, the Indonesian Ministry of Justice and Human Rights as well
as civil society groups.
Inside Indonesia 85: Jan-Mar 2006
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