But if Indonesia isn’t the most racist country on earth, it’s certainly a place where the idea of “political correctness” hasn’t yet had much impact. Caucasians are routinely referred to using the slang racial designation bule, and people merrily make comments about the “frizzy hair” of Africans and the “slitty eyes” of Northeast Asians. There’s also a high degree of color-consciousness. As in many other Asian countries—as, indeed, in just about every country until comparatively recently—there’s an insidious connection between skin color and social status. Basically, if you’ve got darker skin it suggests that you’re poor. In Indonesia having a suntan doesn’t mean that you’ve just been on holiday; it suggests you’ve just been working in the fields.
Indonesia also has plenty of internal ethnic prejudices. People from the far east of the country, where dark-skinned, curly-haired Melanesian ethnicities dominate, are often subjected to condescending prejudice in western Indonesia, and the famously hard-working economic migrants from the island of Madura are routinely slandered as violent, foul-mouthed thugs—much as Irish migrant laborers were once viewed in Britain.
The single biggest racial issue in Indonesia, however, centers on the Chinese. Indonesia has been home to significant numbers of people of Chinese origin for centuries—and for centuries Chinese-Indonesians have been subjected to prejudice and sporadic hostility. Under the Suharto government during the last three decades of the 20th century, Chinese language, script, and cultural celebrations were officially banned, and Chinese-Indonesians were pushed to adopt “Indonesian”-sounding names.
Two versions of the intercultural encounter: Local kids watching with amusement as a tourist “roasts” herself on a Lombok beach and an Australian trainee teacher lending a hand in an Indonesian classroom.
There’s no getting away from the uncomfortable fact that, even today, Chinese-Indonesians are a disproportionately wealthy group compared to their pribumi counterparts (pribumi is itself a very loaded word, technically meaning “indigenous”, but to all intents and purposes meaning “non-Chinese”), so it’s inevitable that a certain amount of grumbling prejudice continues. But legal restrictions on Chinese language and culture are long gone; Chinese New Year is now a national holiday; and many educated Indonesians are now careful to use the term Tionghoa for Chinese-Indonesians, instead of the cruder Cina—a first step on the road to political correctness, perhaps.
Protesters in Jakarta getting hot and bothered over an international trade agreement.
Is “Bule” a Racist Word?
If you’re a Caucasian foreigner and you spend any time in Indonesia you’ll hear it: bule. It’s just two simple syllables (the pronunciation is “boo-lay”), but it’s a word powerfully primed for controversy. Bule originally meant “albino”, but in its modern colloquial sense it’s generally used for Caucasian foreigners. As far as I’m concerned the most accurate translation is simply “whitey”. So bule is unquestionably a racial designation, and some Caucasian expats get very upset by it. But is it actually a racist word?
Very few Indonesians are even aware of the idea that bule might be a contentious term. And if they do hear expats complaining they are usually defensive: “We don’t use it as an insult,” they protest; “It’s just a word for white people!” The response to this from those determined to be offended is that in 1900s Mississippi, in its average daily usage, the “N-word” wasn’t consciously used as an insult either; it was “just a word for black people”.
For what it’s worth, my personal take is that bule is not, of itself, a racist word. It’s almost never used with insulting intent. If Indonesia had a higher degree of “political correctness”, then it might justifiably be judged as problematic, but for the moment being called bule doesn’t bother me one bit, and I use the word myself. It all comes down to the fact that to be happy as a foreigner living or traveling in Indonesia, you need to remember that you are a foreigner, that you do look different. Keeping this all in perspective can be hard if you spend your time in tourist or expat hotspots. But I know that when I’m riding my motorbike through the hinterlands of Java and I spot another incongruous foreigner, even I find myself staring. In fact, I sometimes have to fight the urge to shout out as I pass — “Hello mister! Hello bule!”
THE OTHER SIDE: IDEAS ABOUT BULES
Some prejudices are just downright funny. The one that makes me laugh most comes in the form of a common question: “Tim, why do you bule guys prefer black girls?” When Indonesians say “black” here, they don’t mean people of African heritage; they mean Indonesian girls with darker complexions. There’s this idea—borne of the clichéd image of aging expats hooking up with youthful bargirls, who, as far as many Indonesians are concerned, look like they should be working in the rice fields—that all Western men actually have a preference for women with darker skin. For many middle class Indonesian girls—who spend a fortune on skin-whitening beauty products—it’s an utterly inexplicable notion. I always do my best to take the assertion in good humor, and to counter it by pointing out that it’s not that your average Western guy—or girl for that matter—has a preference for darker partners; it’s just that they don’t care about what color you are. I don’t think anyone ever believes me when I tell them this.
Speaking of forthright and inappropriate questions, they’re something you have to get used to as a foreigner in Indonesia. It’s not unusual, within five minutes of meeting someone for the first time, for them to have asked your age, your religion, and your monthly income—which in my country, Britain, are precisely the three questions you should never ask anyone! Ever! Maybe not even if you’re in a romantic relationship with them! There’s no point getting annoyed by this—they’re questions Indonesians are always asking each other. I usually try laughing, and good-naturedly explaining what terrible taboos those subjects are where I come from. People usually express very sincere interest in this piece of information. Then they ask me the three questions again…
Senior Indonesian and US military officers getting on fine during an international naval exercise.
A NATION OF LINGUISTS
Indonesia might be home to hundreds of different languages, but you only need to speak one of them to talk to people from the tip of Sumatra to the borders of Papua New Guinea: Bahasa Indonesia, otherwise known simply as “Indonesian”. But what is this language so many foreigners insist on calling “Bahasa”? Is it easy? And do Indonesians speak English?
Bahasa Indonesia means “Indonesian Language”. Bahasa just means “language”, so when, as so often happens, someone asks “do you speak Bahasa?” the logical response is “which one?” You can call it Bahasa Indonesia or you can call it Indonesian; but you shouldn’t call it “Bahasa”. Good to have that cleared up!
Indonesian was originally known as “Malay”, the native language of parts of Sumatra and what is now mainland Malaysia, but used as a lingua franca throughout the region for hundreds of years. During Indonesia’s struggle for independence from the Netherlands it was chosen as the national language and given its new name. Indonesian is part of the vast Austronesian language family, which spans the globe from Easter Island to Madagascar. It is gloriously acquisitive, having sucked up bits and pieces from Sanskrit, Arabic, Chinese, Portuguese, Dutch,