Serikat Tahanan, is an anti-authoritarian prisoners association,
organising both inside and outside of eleven different prisons acrossIndonesia.They have worked to reach out to fellow convictedanti-authoritarian activists to advocate and educate the public aboutprison conditions in Indonesia. "By organizing in Serikat Tahanan, weare constantly reminded why we started our fight. Our long term agendais to abolish prison." The comrades have decided to collect theirwritings in a publication and have launched a firefund campaign to coverexpenses. In solidarity and support, we share one piece from the comingpublication.Untill All Are Free.------------------------------We know that throughout history, various prisons around the world haveexperienced riots and uprisings. But this is an almost rare occurrence.Prisoners had to live for years in the same gloomy room and were thusconsidered passive subjects. How do we define a resistance where we canalmost only rely on ourselves, in a space that is almost isolated andfull of pressure, which offers almost no opportunity to organize, suchas a prison?Walls are just walls, and humans are only humans. Even prisons and theirguards have weaknesses, and prisoners do their best to exploit thoseweaknesses whenever the opportunity arises. In Indonesia, smuggling andbribery of corrupt wardens is common. The existence of prohibitedobjects in prisons in Indonesia has been well documented in many massmedia reports. These range from drugs, cell phones, sharp weapons, andeven firearms! I've also heard of prisoners paying to take women in oreven out of jail for a while.But all the examples above are privileges (usually corruption prisonersconsist of politicians and government officials) that most otherconvicts do not have. To overcome various limitations and powerlessness,rule violations and sabotage also often occur. Failing to control thespread of cellphones, jammers were occasionally installed, but prisonerscontinued to destroy them secretly. This also includes destroying CCTV,stealing cooking utensils and office equipment, shoplifting food fromthe kitchen and then reselling it, to manipulating daily inspection.Clichés like, "rules are made only to be broken," hold true here.Article 4 of Permenkumham 6/2013 describes 22 prohibitions for eachconvict or detainee. Such as: having financial relationships with otherprisoners or wardens; commit immoral and homosexual acts; make an escapeattempt; keeping money illegally; equip residential rooms withelectronic equipment; installing electrical installations; have means ofcommunication; storing weapons and tools that can cause fire; etc.Throughout my experience, none (except the spread of hereticalteachings) of the 22 points of the prohibition that has never beenviolated. Defiance persists all the time and compromises are oftenmaintained by wardens based on their own interests.Resistance also occurs in a form that is not at all confrontational, orin a very passive way. This is for example by pretending not to hearcalls or orders, or pretending not to see officers present. Prison lifeis, in places, like a cat and mouse hide and seek. There are those whogamble, get tattoos, take drugs, use cellphones, all of these needprotection so there are always inmates assigned as spies to raise analarm if a guard approaches. In the police cell where we were locked upthe whole time, we used a mirror to see through the bars. We took turnsmonitoring using mirrors, and the prisoners on duty we called "spies".At regular inspections, we several times presented rhymes (in Indonesiawe call it "pantun") as a more creative and fun way to criticize, conveyaspirations and complaints, or simply as a statement so that detaineesmust be in solidarity with one another. One of the rhymes that I wrotecriticized extortion. One time, the food provided by the family was notdelivered to the detainee in question. The food (something of value!),was only handed over if we paid the police. Therefore, in front of thepolice at the assembly, I read a short rhyme:Tulang iga tulang rusuk / Kiriman kita dilarang masuk[Rib ribs / Ourshipment is prohibited from entering]Or, there has also been a rhyme to honor prisoners assistant (tamping):Makan emping di empang / Tanpa tamping kami timpang[Eating emping in apond / Without tamping we are lame]Sometimes, the rhyme that I convey is just an outpouring of the heart:Batuk-batuk, makan gorengan / Aku berdoa untuk, dia yangkurindukan[Coughing, eating fried food / I pray for him, the one I miss]The prisoners (including the police) loved to listen to me. They oftenask if I have prepared rhymes beforehand. And sometimes the police alsoreply to our rhymes, because I'm not the only one who composes rhymes. From police custody, I was transferred to a detention center. There, wehad to spend 12 days in quarantine in very dirty cells, full of garbage,clogged toilets, full of worms, centipedes, cockroaches and otherinsects, without lights and water. One night, it rained. I woke up andrealized that our cell had become a pool, my body soaked in the flood.To be able to move to a bigger and cleaner room, we have to pay aroundIDR 500 thousand. If on the last day we don't pay, then we will be movedto the solitary confinement which is meant for punishment. This isblackmail!Therefore, I invited dozens of inmates in five other quarantine cells tojoin the pay strike. I wrote a letter for a senior inmate to read. I wrote:Please read this letter in each cell and take turns until quarantinecell number 6. Make sure all detainees know the contents of this letter.We propose that we all go on strike to pay the relocation fee. It's notour obligation, but illegal fees from employees. We received news thatthe relocation money was IDR 500,000. If we don't pay, we will be movedto the solitary confinement next door. We have a friend next door, whohas been in a solitary confinement for a month because he can't affordto pay the bills. If we all went on strike, the wardens would beconfused, whether we were immediately kicked out without paying orwhether we were moved to a solitary confinement. It's possible we're allbeing held in quarantine cells. We have to endure three more days here,until new prisoners are transferred here. Because the transfer ofprisoners takes place every two weeks. This will make the wardenconfused to decide whether we are all put in the cell straps or stackedwith new prisoners. If we are united, we will all be expelled withouthaving to pay. Remember, our families outside are working hard to makemoney. Later in the room, we also have to pay the head of the room, thedown payment, not to mention his living expenses. If we still don't getkicked out without paying, at least, we demand that the relocation feebe reduced. Remember, ants don't bite ants. Ant just bite anyone whosteps on them. Ants bite rollicking. Arrive at cell 6, please burn thisletter. Don't let any prisoner be accused of being a provocateur. Forthose who agree, let's discuss it tonight.The senior prisoner agreed, though he said he'd rather be here than bemoved to the big room. I don't know why. But the letter was not read andhe told me to keep the letter. He himself loudly incited prisoners fromother cells to strike. Many agreed, but on the twelfth day, it turnedout that many prisoners had already paid because they could not standthe suffering in the quarantine cells. Unbeknownst to me, my lawyer hadpaid the warden money to get us out of the quarantine cell. I am soashamed. Imagine, I was the one calling the strike but instead I was getout. My name was called, and I could only watch as the other haplessprisoners, including the senior inmate who couldn't afford to pay, hadto stay in that damned cell a little longer. Later, I can understand whyhe prefers to stay in quarantine: residential rooms are no less terribleand corrupt. Although the quarantine cells are terrible, at least thereis no need to pay!When I was transferred to prison, I opened a food stall. I sell coffee,cigarettes, bread, instant noodles, and many other staples in the room.One day, all the inmates who were selling were gathered by the warden.They asked that all stalls be closed, except for those who were willingto pay a deposit of IDR 5 million to the "prison cooperative". Even so,the inmates are asked to pay an upfront fee of IDR 500 thousand, not tomention a monthly fee of IDR 250 thousand.In the past, before there were cooperatives, inmates could receive largequantities of staple goods (eg instant noodles). As a result, the prisonin my place is said to be like a bustling market, because many prisonersresell their family's goods. Currently, the number of family goods islimited, so prisoner must buy from the cooperative at a higher price.One day, the warden intercepted a prisoner who was caught sellingrepackaged side dishes sent by the family, because the wardens areinvolved in the business of selling food and trying to maintain amonopoly by the cooperative.I resisted such extortion and kept selling secretly. I camouflaged thestall by scattering items into different lockers. If during a raid theseitems are found, then the locker owners just have to admit the items astheir own. This is a black market strategy to oppose monopoly bycooperatives and wardens. A few weeks after the we were called, thewardens also diligently raided the rooms and confiscated several of theshop's items, such as bread. At that time I swore an oath in front ofthe other inmates, that I would fight back if my shop's goods wereconfiscated (Luckily, that didn't happen).If this sounds trivial, I need to remind you that instant noodles can bea luxury item in prison. Especially if the side dishes we receive arehalf-cooked rice, sandy and rocky, fish with a pungent fishy smell, andvegetables accompanied by caterpillars. Trust me, I've eaten all of thatbefore and I'm not exaggerating. But from that experience, there is alesson that I can learn, or rather, contemplation about our conditiontoday. If instant noodles traded by a confiscated convict provokedoutrage, I can't imagine what would happen if I became a farmer and myland was confiscated. In fact, that is what is happening today in allcorners of Indonesia. I was even in the same cell with a farmer who wascriminalized in a conflict against a plantation company. He was deeplymoved when I handed him the memoirs of Nirbaya prison by Indonesianjournalist Mochtar Lubis, because when he read it, he felt the samesentiments as the author who was being imprisoned by Indonesia'sauthoritarian New Order regime.Our imagination of resistance invariably leads to spectacular anddramatic forms of popular confrontation, often on a massive scale,whether spontaneous or organized. I suggest that we also see resistancefrom the very bottom of our being. In a place where isolation andcommunication restrictions are enforced, staying connected to theoutside world is a struggle. Facing institutions of discipline,obedience and supposedly the creators of this deterrent effect, justbeing yourself is resistance. In a gloomy situation that drags you intoa slump, maintaining vitality and being an example is resistance. In theend, I realized that if the prison was basically trying to negate myexistence, asserting that I "existed" was simply resistance. Ifeverything is forbidden, then everything becomes resistance.I know what I'm telling you sounds heroic. Of course. But I also don'tcare and don't try to act big. I want to share my story and hope thiswill inspire more people to realize his capacity for resistance in thecontext of their own struggles. Don't mistake me for a staunch and fieryrebel either. Actually I'm not brave. It would be more accurate to callme reckless. Reckless means knowing he is weak, afraid and will not win,but decides to keep going. I mustered up the courage with difficulty.Apart from that, I also tend to be introverted, quiet, and limit myrelationships with other inmates. Most of the time, I was obedient andsmiled broadly at the wardens. I never put on a defiant face.If at any time I have to act, it must be an important and urgentsituation. In something worth fighting for, I'm ready to rebel againstthe warden. Don't worry, I've set limits. I'm also not going to go toofar, taking unnecessary risks. I've repeatedly made fatal mistakes, soI'm more careful. I always keep Alexander Brener's message in mind:I promise to be sober and cunning, agile and dangerous. I promise to actin such a way that you can neither drown me nor surround me withsilence. I promise to fight you intelligently and vigilantly, carefullyand calmly, so as to strike you gently and forcefully, wherever I can,as long as I have enough strength, even if there is no future in it.Written with all my heartAugust 1, 2023Jungkir MarutaJungkir is an anarchist writer and independent researcher. Interested inanthropological studies of stateless society and the history of theanti-colonialism movement in Indonesia. Still committed to writingdespite being sentenced to 15 years in prison for possession of marijuana.Contibute to the fundraiser here: www.firefund.net/serikattahananwritingsThis initiative, driven by the currently convicted, was started as asimple form of solidarity among us-to nurture hope-so we don't feel leftout or come out of jail as a more damaged human beings. By organizing inSerikat Tahanan, we are constantly reminded why we started our fight.Our long term agenda is to abolish prison.We have been writing, or at least learning to write, our own experiencesand thoughts inside the prison. We want to publish these writings but,of course, we don't have money. Indonesia's corrupt prison systemprovides inadequate food rations and forces prisoners to pay for itthemselves. All these time we have been living off solidarity fromcomrades outside prison as it's almost impossible for us to work. Lackof funds and bribe-ridden prison conditions worsen our lives and hamperour writing project. We will use the proceeds from book sales to run theprogram that has been determined and run by the prisoners themselves.The book we publish will consist of about a dozen writings by prisonersand ex-prisoners convicted of arsoning, destruction of property,incitement to riots and drug use. This paper will contain socialcriticism of the structure of Indonesian society, reflections of action,survival in prison, and a wealth of lessons that are useful foraudiences and social movement actors. We will also allocate a portion ofthe free published books for collectives and libraries.Therefore we ask the international anti-authoritarian activists,anarchists, anti-fascists and abolitionist network to stand insolidarity in our efforts to publish our writings. We have budgetedaround IDR 5.5 million (327 euros) for the cost of communicating acrossprison, sneaking writing tools, editing, printing and distributing thebooks. Help us publish our writings within Indonesia's corrupt prisonsystem and support prisoners' campaigns!"serikattahanan@riseup.nethttps://organisemagazine.org.uk/2023/08/25/a-wall-is-just-a-wall-it-can-be-destroyed-international/_________________________________________A - I N F O S N E W S S E R V I C EBy, For, and About AnarchistsSend news reports to A-infos-en mailing listA-infos-en@ainfos.ca
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