I still remember the children’s first performance, held for an audience of Sarekat Islam members. One or two of the fourteen-year-old pupils had enlisted the aid of some parents and pushed their friends into a project organized by the pupils. They staged a performance: wearing red trousers, the pupils marched out and lined up in front of the audience and sang the Internationale . . . for the first time among the Indonesian people.29 They carried it all off without a hitch and I awaited the crowd’s response. But there was no sound. I saw that several of the spectators had tears of admiration trickling down their faces. Were they sad or happy?
They felt both of these emotions: sadness because they were conscious of their own and their children’s fate, as well as the shortcomings of the school and its equipment; happiness because their children were being educated not to become lackeys of colonialism but to raise their own class, the oppressed, exploited, and humiliated masses. They felt that they saw before them the heroes of the future. Only after several minutes did we hear faint clapping, immediately followed by wild applause and cheering.
Pupils continued to stream into our school until we had over two hundred. Letters from people wanting to become teachers in our school arrived from everywhere; there were those who wanted to give up well-paid jobs to work in our school for nothing. In the afternoons I held my own classes to instruct pupils of the fifth grade who wanted to become teachers, and to help existing teachers orient to the people.30
[72] Misfortune and good luck came from all directions, for the requests to set up schools all over the country had both fortunate and unfortunate aspects: unfortunate because our personnel was still limited and even the center in Semarang was not yet strong, and fortunate because such national interest would ensure that the program would later extend throughout Indonesia and that we could count on support from the whole population. With the interest and assistance of at least a large part of the poorest people, we could hope for a good climate and fertile soil for the introduction of middle schools. After graduating from agricultural schools, pupils could head up people’s cooperatives in the villages; those from the trade schools could direct cooperatives for various trades, while those from commercial schools could set up different types of trade cooperatives. In this way, if the schools could work together with the trade unions and the political organizations, the nationalist movement would gain people having all sorts of skills—strongly forged cadres.
We could not restrain Bandung any longer. A fine school building with a large garden and playing area had been provided by a wealthy member of Sarekat Islam. We had to mobilize all our teachers to set up the second Sekolah Rakyat, with between two and three hundred pupils, in Bandung.31
I was not able personally to witness the progress made. But according to reports I received after I was exiled, Sekolah Rakyat sprang up like mushrooms in the rainy season. (When Sarekat Islam Semarang became Sarekat Rakyat, the schools also changed their names.)32 Wherever the Semarang pupils attended mass meetings a school would be established on the Semarang model. The pupils with their red trousers and their Internationale were like the pied piper of Hamelin, whose pipe attracted all animals to follow him wherever he went. There were even pupils from Surabaya who followed their friends without asking permission of their parents.
An echo of our educational movement can be found in the Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch Oost [sic] Indie VI (supplement), p. 534:
Everywhere Sekolah Rakyat were established on Tan Malaka’s model; and the youth work also included the formation of youth militias (Barisan Muda, Serikat Pemuda, Kepanduan)-all this being in accordance with the Comintern system. Wherever possible crash courses to train active propagandists were held. These people would form the warga rumekso (cadres) of the organization, initially in open meetings, and later in membership or restricted meetings. The (government) regulation on inspection of private native schools (Ind. Stsb 1923, No. 136 jo 374) was clearly incapable of eradicating this sort of propagandistic education. (See “Government Statement on Several Matters in the Public Interest, April 1924,” Appendix A, Koloniaal Verslag.)33
[73] And in an interview given during the recent 1947 May Day celebration Alimin, who has seen revolutionary schools all over the world, felt obliged to acknowledge the Sekolah Rakyat, expressing his high regard for them.34
I recall a conversation with the late Haji Busro, who was prominent in Sarekat Islam Semarang and was a resolute supporter of the educational movement.35 He said to me: “Don’t speak at public meetings. Let other people do that for the time being. It’s best if you devote all your energies to education. After three or four years there will be people who can take your place if you get involved in politics and get exiled.” As usual he concluded the sentence with his characteristic “jo, rak?”36
This is what I did at first. Indeed it was sound advice. But because there was a real shortage of people in all fields, I was forced to immerse myself in public meetings. Several friends urged me to go to Surabaya for a Sarekat Islam meeting.37 The political atmosphere was still dominated by the conflict between Sarekat Islam and Semarang-ism (Islamism versus communism) that had caused the split. After some time among my friends in the struggle, I felt that the conflict was not based on concrete and precise economic and political differences. Furthermore, the manner in which the dispute was being carried on was only giving rise to mutual hatred. The result would obviously be to cripple both sides. Before I began to speak in Surabaya, the chairman warned me not to present any communist propaganda. When I referred to the alliance between Turkey and the Soviet Union against imperialism, I got another warning from the chair. However, the audience appeared not to have any objection to my continuing my speech on the importance in Indonesia of unity between Islam and communism against our common enemy. I had been given only five minutes in which to speak, but with five minutes of Semaun’s time and another five from another PKI comrade, I was able to squeeze out fifteen minutes.38
The visit to Surabaya was very rewarding. Several Islamic leaders agreed to attend the PKI congress to be held in Semarang, at which we were again to discuss the question of cooperation between the Semarangists and Sarekat Islam.
[74] Now I was stepping onto the slippery ground of politics, and once your foot is on it, it is hard to pull back. One day, with no preliminaries, Semaun said suddenly: “I hope you’ll go to Cepu next Sunday. I have just returned from setting up the Serikat Buruh Pelikan Indonesia [Indonesian Miners Union]. I proposed that you should be the vice chairman, and they agreed.”39
This was the beginning of my entry into the trade-union movement. There was such a shortage of people in all fields that even Busro could not deny it. After rumors here and there, suddenly and secretly Darsono left for Moscow. Not long after, following similar rumors, Semaun left for Moscow.40 Our inadequate forces were even further depleted.
In such a situation of insufficient forces in all areas even our reserves had to be mobilized. It was not surprising that at the PKI congress in December 1921 (?) the leadership managed to bombardeer me into becoming the supplier of all the speeches.41 But what really did amaze me was that at the closed membership meeting which followed the public meeting, they were able again to bombardeer me into accepting the PKI chairmanship. I objected, but I was powerless in the face of unanimity and discipline. I had not only stepped onto the slippery field of politics; I was now sliding toward a ravine.
I recall that my most important speech at that congress was an analysis of the effect of divisions in our ranks, that is, between the Muslims and Communists, and how this related to the “divide and rule” policy of Dutch imperialism. Our past divisions, exploited through the ‘divide et Impera’ policy, had led us to the vale of colonization. Our present position as a colonized people resulted from divisions between Raja and Rakyat and among the Rajas themselves.42 If we deepened and accentuated the divisions between Islam and communism, we would only give our ever-watchful enemies the opportunity to exploit our internal hostilities and weaken the Indonesian nationalist movement. We should stress what we have in common and apply those common positions to concrete political and economic problems. Such was the thrust of my speech.
[75]