Taking the law into your own hands is now commonplace in urban areas in Indonesia
Danang Kukuh Wardoyo
In some situations, a ‘crowd’ is associated with uncontrollable,
aggressive or destructive behaviour. Crowds of English soccer fans may
suddenly act like hooligans and vandals and protestors in worker
demonstrations in various countries are often labelled disruptive. But
these sorts of crowds gather in special situations, or at particular
events. They don’t gather very often and they don’t usually kill people.
In Indonesia, it doesn’t take a special event for a terrifying crowd to
gather. All it takes is a scream of ‘Thief!’ in a public place. Once a
crowd appears, its behaviour is often so unpredictable that anyone may
fall victim.
‘Two policemen from Majalengka Police were beaten to death by a crowd
in Sindangpanji village, Cikijing District, Majalengka, West Java after
it was suspected that they intended to rip off an ojek (motor cycle taxi) driver. One of the two policemen was burnt alive.’
Incidents like this one, reported in Kompas in August 2002, are frequently referred to as ‘main hakim sendiri’
(taking the law into your own hands). The ‘trial’ of the alleged
criminal becomes a game for the crowd, which acts as a kind of ‘pengadilan jalanan’ (street court). Tragically, these ‘games’ often end in the death of the alleged criminal, regardless of guilt.
Since the fall of Suharto in May 1998, main hakim sendiri
has become commonplace in Indonesia. Between 1999 and May 2002, the
Greater Jakarta Metropolitan Police recorded 318 cases of suspected
criminals being beaten by crowds in the greater Jakarta area (Jakarta,
Bogor, Tangerang and Bekasi) and a few areas in West Java alone. A
survey of the Jakarta crime-oriented newspaper Pos Kota between 1997 and May 2002 revealed 566 reported cases. These extremely high numbers are a cause for real concern.
Although there is a long history of main hakim sendiri in
Indonesia, dating from the Indonesian revolution (1945-1949), an
alarming new trend has been the practice of burning suspected
criminals. Before 1999 crowds dispensing street justice usually beat
their victims to death and there were very few cases of the suspected
offenders being burned. Between January 1999 and May 2000, however, Kompas
reported that of 48 crowd-related fatalities recorded by the Greater
Jakarta Metropolitan Police, 18 were as a result of suspected criminals
being burned to death.
Indicative of this new trend is the admission made by several ojek
drivers in West Java that the formula ‘five parts to two’, meaning five
parts of kerosene mixed with two parts of petrol, is now well known.
This formula, which is poured onto the ‘thief’ and lit, is used by many
street courts in the region.
What is behind this new trend of meting out street justice to alleged
criminals? A commonly heard explanation is that this phenomenon
reflects Indonesia’s weak law enforcement. A legal system that is
inconsistent, open to bribes and lacking in authority often means that
even if criminals are caught and convicted they receive only light
sentences. Criminals may even get off scot-free if they provide a
generous enough bribe or are backed by powerful figures. The
frustration which local communities feel with this kind of system and
their own sense of powerlessness to change it may make them vulnerable
to this kind of aggressive crowd behaviour. While this so-called
‘frustration-aggression’ theory makes sense, it doesn’t explain why
crowds have recently chosen to burn criminals.
I have witnessed these street courts in action on several occasions. On
one occasion, I observed a crowd dispensing street justice to a
pickpocket in Pejompongan, Central Jakarta. As I stood there, a number
of those in the crowd called for the pickpocket to be burned: ‘If this
was Bekasi that pickpocket would be burned for sure!’, ‘Just burn him,
so he’ll learn his lesson!’, ‘In Tangerang there’d be no messing
around, he’d be burned for sure!’.
The crowd’s yells attempted to generalise a pattern of action: that all
thieves caught by crowds are burned. We can interpret this as an
association between stimulus and response, which is reinforced through
repetition. Thieves caught by crowds in urban kampung
(villages) are often burned. This strengthens the association between
‘thief’ (read: criminal) and ‘burn’. When another thief is caught, this
association is what people most easily recall from their memories.
Burning accused criminals
My research was based on two in-depth case studies of people involved
in burning accused criminals. I met with and interviewed a number of
the people involved in the burnings, including those responsible for
it.
The chain of events in the first case study began when a young man in
Indramayu borrowed a motorbike from his close friend. He then sold the
bike and disappeared. Angered by this behaviour, the youth’s older
brothers tracked the thief down. When they found him, they beat him and
tied him up. Then, on their own initiative, the thief’s four older
brothers handed him over to the owner of the motorbike, telling the
owner, ‘This is our younger brother, but we’re giving him to you. It’s
up to you whether you want to turn him red, green or black.’ They then
departed leaving their brother behind. Not long after this, neighbours
and ojek
drivers began milling around in front of the house of the bike’s owner.
Some of these people began calling for the thief to be burned.
Because the thief was a good friend, before going through the ritual of
burning him, the owner of the bike asked, ‘Before I burn you, is there
anything you want to ask for?’.
‘I want you to hold me,’ answered the thief.
‘No way! Ask for something else.’
‘Can I have a smoke?’ asked the thief. So, as the thief’s hands were
bound, his friend helped him to light a cigarette and put it between
his lips. While the crowd shepherded him towards the public cemetery,
the thief smoked his last cigarette. When they came to a path among
rice fields near the cemetery, the bike’s owner doused his friend’s
body with petrol. ‘Matches, who has matches?’, he called out to the
crowd. Someone in the crowd threw him a box of matches. ‘Then I lit a
match, and burned him!’ he recalled. The flames instantly spread over
the thief’s body. But the thief leapt into a muddy puddle at the edge
of the rice field and the flames died out. The bike’s owner then
dragged the scorched body of his friend back to the edge of the field.
He was still moving, and breathing with difficulty.
‘That just tipped me further over the edge. He’d already been burned
and he was still alive, so I poured more petrol on him and set him
alight again!’ he added in a furious tone while demonstrating how he
burned the helpless body. The thief was eventually burned to death.
The events of the second case study took place in Pancoran, Central
Jakarta. A youth known to be a frequent petty thief was caught
red-handed stealing shirts from his neighbour’s house. A crowd gathered
and soon they were beating him and calling for him to be burned. The
crowd took the youth to an open area of land and tied him to a
clothesline. Several people then doused his body with kerosene and lit
it. A few people in the crowd tried to stop the others from burning the
youth but by the time they had managed to put out the flames, most of
his skin was burnt. When the flames were out, the thief was ordered to
walk home. Hours later, at around 11am, the police collected the thief
from his house and took him to a police hospital to be treated and
questioned. By five o’clock that afternoon, he was dead.
On the surface these two cases seem absurd. Burning your own friend?
Burning your own neighbour? Everyone involved knew each other. How
could it happen?
When I asked the owner of the motorbike in Indramayu why he had burned
his friend, he confessed that by doing this the responsibility would be
shared among all the members of the crowd. After all, they had all
wanted the criminal to be burned. At least that’s what he had heard
people calling out from the crowd.
‘If I’d stabbed him, or cut his throat, legally it would have been me
alone who killed him. But if he was burned, well, the crowd also wanted
him to be burned. They said they wanted to make an example of him,’ he
recalled.
One of the people accused of burning the shirt thief in Pancoran gave a
similar response. ‘I don’t know why I did it, because the crowd told me
to, I doused the victim. Yeah, I doused him with what was at hand,’ he
admitted.
These two answers reveal an attempt to divert responsibility to the
crowd. An individual may act wildly in a crowd because of their
anonymity in a large group of people. But these two answers reveal
something else as well.
Theories of individual behaviour within a crowd suggest that there are
various groups, each with their own interests, who become involved. Any
one individual will tend to look for clues to indicate how their group
will behave, and try to conform. The urge to conform does not arise
from anonymity. In principle, it is stronger when an individual member
of the crowd’s identity is known, such as in the two cases above.
Another way of understanding crowd behaviour is to think of a crowd as
an opportunity to build self-esteem by seeking outside recognition.
Media reporting on the burning of thieves typically includes a degree
of sensationalism. For disempowered groups this media attention offers
them instant acknowledgment.
Yet there is also the reality that until 1998 Indonesians were living
under a repressive and corrupt regime which never delivered justice to
poor people. The dark side of the era of reformasi
is that the release of unexpressed frustrations has resulted in some
groups taking the law into their own hands, with often tragic results.
As long as the law remains weak and corrupt in Indonesia, main hakim sendiri will be a tolerated means of dispensing ‘justice’, even to close friends and neighbours.
Danang Kukuh Wardoyo [danang@radio68h.com] wrote his bachelor’s thesis at Atmajaya University, Jakarta, on the burning of thieves.
Cartoon reproduced with permission of the Friedrich Naumann Stiftung, Jakarta, www.fnfasia.org.
Inside Indonesia 79: Jul-Sep 2004
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