From Subandar to Tridharma: Transformations and interactions of Chinese communities in Bali

Between Harmony and Discrimination

Negotiating Religious Identities within Majority-Minority Relationships in Bali and Lombok

Edited by

Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin David D. Harnish

LEIDEN | BOSTON

This is a digital offprint for restricted use only | © 2014 Koninklijke Brill NV

Contents

Acknowledgements viiList of Illustrations viiiNotes on Contributors xi xvi

Introduction: Negotiating Religious Identities within Majority-Minority Relationships in Bali and Lombok 1

Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and David D. Harnish

PART 1Sacred Sites and the Differentiation of Belonging 33

1 Changing Spiritual Landscapes and Religious Politics on Lombok 35Kari Telle

2 Balinese and Sasak Religious Trajectories in LombokInteractions, Tensions, and Performing Arts at the Lingsar Temple Festival 61

David D. Harnish3 From Subandar to Tridharma: Transformations and Interactions of

Chinese Communities in Bali 84Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin

4 From Wali Songo to Wali Pitu: The Travelling of Islamic Saint Veneration to Bali 112

Martin Slama5 The Purification Movement in Bayan, North Lombok

Orthodox Islam vis-à-vis Religious Syncretism 144Erni Budiwanti

PART 2Living Together – Developing Differing Identities 163

6 Keeping the Peace: Interdependence and Narratives of Tolerance in Hindu-Muslim Relationships in Eastern Bali 165

Lene Pedersen7 “We are one Unit”: Configurations of Citizenship in a Historical Hindu-

Muslim Balinese Setting 197Meike Rieger

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2014 | doi 10.1163/9789004271494_001


vi contents

8 Performing Christian Kebalian: Balinese Music and Dance as Interreli-gious Drama 221

Dustin Wiebe9 United in Culture – Separate Ways in Religion?

The Relationship between Hindu and Christian Balinese 244I Nyoman Dhana

10 Interreligious Relationships between Chinese and Hindu Balinese in Three Villages in Bali 258

Ni Luh Sutjiati Beratha and I Wayan Ardika11 Respecting the Lakes: Arguments about a Tourism Project between

Environmentalism and Agama 275Sophie Strauss

PART 3Everyday Practices and the Search for Commonalities 301

12 Ethnicity, Religion and the Economic Imperative Some Case Studies from the Fringes of West Bali 303

Mary Ida Bagus13 Puja Mandala: An Invented Icon of Bali’s Religious Tolerance? 330

I Nyoman Darma Putra14 Chess and an Indonesian Microcosm: A Glimpse of a Nation’s Social

Dream? 354Leo Howe

Index 375385

ContentsContents vAcknowledgements viiList of Illustrations viiiNotes on Contributors xiHauser-Schäublin and Harnish 1Introduction 1Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and David D. Harnish 1Chapter 1 35Changing Spiritual Landscapes and Religious Politics on Lombok 35Kari Telle 35Chapter 2 61Balinese and Sasak Religious Trajectories in Lombok 61David D. Harnish 61Chapter 3 84From Subandar to Tridharma: Transformations and Interactions of Chinese Communities in Bali 84Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin 84Chapter 4 112From Wali Songo to Wali Pitu: The Travelling of Islamic Saint Veneration to Bali 112Martin Slama 112Chapter 5 144The Purification Movement in Bayan, North Lombok 144Erni Budiwanti 144Chapter 6 165Keeping the Peace: Interdependence and Narratives of Tolerance in Hindu-Muslim Relationships in Eastern Bali 165Lene Pedersen 165Chapter 7 197“We are one Unit”: Configurations of Citizenship in a Historical Hindu-Muslim Balinese Setting 197Meike Rieger 197Chapter 8 221Performing Christian Kebalian: Balinese Music and Dance as Interreligious Drama 221Dustin Wiebe 221Chapter 9 244United in Culture – Separate Ways in Religion? 244I Nyoman Dhana 244Chapter 10 258Interreligious Relationships between Chinese and Hindu Balinese in Three Villages in Bali 258Ni Luh Sutjiati Beratha and I Wayan Ardika Beratha and Ardika 258Chapter 11 275Respecting the Lakes: Arguments about a Tourism Project between Environmentalism and Agama 275Sophie Strauss 275Chapter 12 303Ethnicity, Religion and the Economic Imperative 303Mary Ida Bagus 303Chapter 13 330Puja Mandala: An Invented Icon of Bali’s Religious Tolerance? 330I Nyoman Darma Putra 330Chapter 14 354Chess and an Indonesian Microcosm: A Glimpse of a Nation’s Social Dream? 354Leo Howe 354Index 375Index 375


84 hauser-schäublin

Chapter 3

From Subandar to Tridharma: Transformations and Interactions of Chinese Communities in Bali

Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin

Introduction

During my fieldwork in the coastal villages of Julah and Sembiran in North Bali, I continuously encountered traces of religious practices that local people at-tributed to “newcomers” who, in a distant past (some time before the colonial era), had come to their villages for many different reasons.1 Some immigrants, who were involved in networks with royal courts of lords, left traces in oral histories, temples, and ritual practices. Among the most prominent were “ethnic Chinese” (Suryadinata 2007a), who brought along their own particular religious practices, and others who were already Muslim before they came to Indonesia or Bali.2

One of the ongoing questions about the “ethnic Chinese” or Tionghoa3 in Indonesia debated among anthropologists, historians, and political scientists deals with the issue of why they did not (and still do not) assimilate as readily as they did in other countries, such as Thailand or the Philippines (Skinner 2008; Reid 2001). Both Skinner and Reid came to the conclusion that the specific historical circumstances during the colonial era either favoured (in Thailand and the Philippines) or hindered (in Indonesia) assimilation. The way in which the Dutch colonial administration identified minorities and subjected them to

1 For a detailed description and analysis of the relationships between the villagers and the high-standing newcomers (probably some time in the 18th century) who insisted on their own ritual practices diverging from those of their hosts, see Hauser-Schäublin 2004a. My research in Bali between 1997 and 2011 was financed by the German Research Foundation (DFG). I am grateful for the support I received from the DFG and my Indonesian counterparts, LIPI and Universitas Udayana (Prof. I Gusti Ngurah Bagus and Prof. Dr. I Wayan Ardika).

2 For a critical evaluation of the concepts “Chineseness” and “the Chinese” as a homogenous bounded entity, see Abalahin 2005: 122; Reid 2001: 81-82; and McKeown 2008.

3 One of my interlocutors pointed out to me that the correct term is not “orang Cina” or “orang dari keturunan Cina” but “Tionghoa”, since the term “Cina” was used for various discrimina-tions during the New Order; for Bali, I shall use Tionghoa Balinese in analogy to Hindu Balinese.

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85from subandar to tridharma

particular bans and rules are considered to be one of the main reasons for what is only a partial assimilation of the Chinese in Indonesia.

However, I am going to argue that Chinese people were already living to-gether as separate communities in early colonial and even in pre-colonial times. They stuck to a particular Chinese lifestyle, though all of them also spoke the local language. Nevertheless, religious practices were only marginally constitu-tive for their “Chineseness” as perceived by non-Chinese in a rather essential-izing way. It was their economic function and, accordingly, their social standing, which I suggest was deeply rooted in their leading role in trade, mainly the control over the import and export of goods. It was the preeminent position of a subandar (harbour or trade master) around which Chinese communities evolved. The singularity of the social standing of these Chinese subandar lay in the fact that they had managed to establish or to engage in a kind of patron-client relationship with the Balinese lords and kings.4 Thus, it was a superordi-nate authority that permitted the economically important Chinese communities to keep a cultural distinctiveness to some extent. Nevertheless, no clear-cut boundaries existed between the local Balinese communities and the immi-grants. As a result of everyday interactions and intermarriage (Beratha, Ardika and Dhana 2010, see the chapter by Beratha and Ardika in this volume), the parties borrowed many elements from each other and adapted and modified them; they also shared many sites and practices. These processes resulted in the “hybridisation” of both.

According to my research on temples in Bali over the past 20 years, there are some communities of different faiths who still practice rituals in shared sites. However, as Harnish has noted for the Lingsar temple in Lombok, over the past decades the ritual communities – Hindu Balinese and Muslim Sasak – have started to increasingly distance themselves from each other (2006; see also the chapter by Harnish in this volume). I did not come across the same competitive and even aggressive rivalry between different religious communities in Bali that had been using the same site of worship for decades or perhaps even centuries, as described by Harnish and Telle for Lombok in this volume. However, in to-day’s Bali several sites are no longer visited by different religious communities. In some other cases, the original practitioners of different faiths have merged (probably through intermarriage) and no longer remember to what distinct community their ancestors once belonged (Hauser-Schäublin 2008: 62). Yet,

4 There is little evidence of what these Chinese were called in early Bali or what they called themselves. Such names as “Cina,” “Tionghoa” or any other terms referring to ethnicity are apparently lacking in early inscriptions, though Chinese must have visited or lived in Bali at that time (I Wayan Ardika, personal communication, July 2011).



there are religious communities, such as the Tionghoa, who still regularly visit the temple of Pura Ulun Danu Batur, Kintamani (henceforth called Batur tem-ple), one of the most important Hindu temples in Bali. To my surprise, I came across a public performance of a Chinese barong say (lion dance) in the inner-most part of this temple for the first time in 2007 (Figure 3.1). This temple con-stitutes not only the ritual centre of the water management for irrigation agriculture of large parts of the island, but, in former times, it was also a centre with regard to royal houses and their particular hierarchical relationship de-pending on the particular historical circumstances. Thus, the shrines dedicated to the most important Hindu deities are (still) “serviced” by the respective noble houses. It is this temple that has contained a shrine for a Chinese deity, called I Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar, since time immemorial (see Nieuwenkamp 1922:

Figure 3.1 Tionghoa communities now regularly visit the temple Pura Ulun Danu Batur and pay homage to a Chinese deity Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar/Cong Po Kong and to Hindu deities as well. Here, a group performs a naga or snake dance for the deities, 2011. Photo by Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin



158; Salmon and Sidharta 2000b; Gottowik 2005).5 However, this shrine and the Chinese deities it houses have experienced a changeful history, mostly depend-ing on the broader political situation of the particular time.The main focus of this chapter will rest on the changing relationship between the Tionghoa Balinese and the Hindu Balinese, and the way “Chineseness” has been constituted accordingly (Hoon 2008). In the past two decades, national and transnational networks with a religious background have provided the Chi-nese with a similar, though completely different, set of social relations that have re-strengthened their position after they lost the patron-client ties with ruling houses with the onset of the Dutch Indies as a colony, and the subsequent po-litical marginalisation and discrimination they suffered in the post-colonial state, especially during the New Order regime (1966-98).

In contrast to the Tionghoa who have become Christian or Muslim, the net-works of Buddhist-Confucian Tionghoa reach as far as Thailand, Cambodia, Sri Lanka, and China. Over the past two decades, China has become their home-land also with regard to their ritual life. The Tionghoa form a particular kind of diaspora, one in which the relationship with Bali and Indonesia, the homeland, and the national and transnational networks play an important role (Reid 2008).

Harbourmasters and Patronage

As has already been briefly mentioned, the emphasis of distinction between the “ethnic Chinese” and the rest of Bali’s inhabitants was apparently rooted in the social division of labour and social standing. In pre-colonial and early co-lonial times, many Chinese – at least those who retained this status – fulfilled important functions in trade and business in Bali and Lombok (Liefrinck 1915), as well as in other parts of the archipelago (see also Lombard and Salmon 1994; van Eck 1880; Bloemen Waanders 1859; Nieuwenkamp 1922; Geertz 1980: 38–39, 94-97; Schulte Nordholt 1996: 281-283; Eiseman 1990: 114-128). Van Eck notes that Chinese were living in all the harbours in North Bali (1880: 5). The report of Chinkak (himself of Chinese origin), the master of a Siamese merchant junk that called at the port of Buleleng in 1848, documents that the harbourmaster, Pandad by name (in the translated text called “captain”), had privileged access to the king’s palace and apparently enjoyed the full confidence of the king (Graves and Kasetsiri 1969). The kings entrusted the Chinese subandar as

5 This temple was first described by Chinkak (Graves and Kasetsiri 1969; see Salmon and Sidharta 2000b).



tenants with the control over the harbour and, therefore, over the import and export of goods and the levying of taxes (Liefrinck 1915; Bloemen Waanders 1859: 182-187; Geertz 1980: 94-97). Lombard and Salmon even speak of “mer-chant-government official” to characterise the outstanding position of the syah-bandar (subandar) in 17th century Java (1994: 118). The subandar paid an annual fee or, as mentioned by Medhurst as early as in 1829 (Journal 1830), a fixed percentage of the duty on all imports and exports of goods, as well as on the fees for groundage to the king. Additionally, he provided the king with all kinds of goods and presents, such as imported silk or a Chinese wife (puteri Cina, see Somers Heidhues 2010). In service, the subandar was liable for oversee-ing and managing the harbour, the warehouses and the trade with merchants from all points of Southeast Asia.6 Geertz even speaks of a “syndicate” with foreign traders that a successful subandar was able to establish (1980: 39). More-over, the subandar had a great number of staff, agents, and coolies who were working on his behalf and his far-reaching bonds created a kind of trade realm, kebandaran (Geertz 1980: 202). Conversely, the harbour stood under the protec-tion of the king or paramount lord, since this was an important source of in-come (Schulte Nordholt 1996: 282, 126). Furthermore, the subandar was allowed to lead a lifestyle (also by being married to several Balinese women) that docu-mented his wealth and his high social standing. Van Eck’s description of Bule-leng clearly shows that the Chinese engaged in supervising the harbour and the trade; they lived together in their own settlements. He writes: “On the northern side of the market place [pasar] stands a long row of houses which are exclu-sively inhabited by the Chinese” (1980: 25), and he adds that, apart from their house shrines, they have conjointly built a temple. Just on the other side of the river, which delineates the harbour, lives the “kapitan Tjina”, “head of the Chi-nese”, who had come to Bali 15 years earlier and since made his career here (ibidem). Early colonial reports document that other non-Balinese settlements also existed near the harbours, such as Buginese, Javanese and Sundanese com-munities. Members of these communities mostly worked in the seafaring and shipping businesses under the command of the subandar and merchants or captains. What distinguished them from the Chinese was that they were not

6 Medhurst, the missionary who visited Bali in 1829, reported that ten vessels loaded with nut-meg, tortoiseshell, masoodji bark, and a red dye (kasumba) came from Ceram annually and called at the port of Buleleng. Furthermore, there were about ten Chinese perahu transporting goods continuously between Java and Bali; about 12 Buginese perahu came from Sumbawa, 20 from Celebes (Sulawesi) and 20 from Singapore (with opium). Other boats headed for Padang and Badung, as well as for Makassar. Medhurst also mentions “Arab” vessels transpor-ting opium (Journal 1830: 30). The list is, of course, far from complete.



directly or in the same way tied to the courts, and were thus lacking the presti-gious social relations such as the patron-client relationship of the Chinese. Reid has commented on this patron-client relationship as follows: “The Indonesian Chinese symbiosis is certainly much older than the Dutch, between an ‘insider’ elite whose political power is expected to bring economic benefits, and an ‘out-sider’ minority who are denied access to political power and therefore autho-rised and required to act entrepreneurially” (2001: 69).

We can conclude that it was not only the important economic function (har-bour and trade master) the Chinese had in 19th century Bali that determined their singular standing, but also their social relations, which bound them to the courts – and vice versa.

As is well known, the subandar lost the outstanding economic or commercial function for Balinese rulers due to a radical change in the political and eco-nomic structure of Balinese society when the Dutch began to rule Bali (Schulte Nordholt 1996: 281). Buleleng was declared a free port in 1861, which meant that no import and export taxes were levied (Schulte Nordholt 1996: 169), thus result-ing in a disempowerment of the subandar. Over time, subandar were no longer titles of living beings. Instead, the term subandar became a term for deified Chinese ancestors – such as I Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar – worshipped in particular sites and temples.

“Foreign Orientals”, “Non-pribumi”, and the Abolition of Discrimination

As is well known, according to the Dutch colonial policy, “natives” were catego-rised as different entities from Europeans and Chinese (as well as Arabs). The Dutch policy also produced sharp divisions among the indigenous groups them-selves by identifying diverging local customs (Schulte Nordholt and van Klink-en 2007: 21).

According to Anderson, census, mapping, and museum constituted the tech-nology, or, rather, grammar, of colonial political power (whether British or Dutch or any other “white” imperial power) in order to establish control (1991: 163-185). Indeed, one of the first things Bloemen Waanders, the Assistant Resi-dent in North Bali in the mid-19th century, did was to establish a first overview of the composition of the population and its heterogeneity. He was astonished to learn that none of the regional lords or punggawa had ever tried to set up a census before. Bloemen Waanders identified different groups of foreigners, “vreemdelingen”, when he set up the first census of the population of Buleleng. In his census, Bloemen Waanders listed 6,434 household heads in Buleleng;



among them 40 Chinese, 3 Arabs and 150 Buginese and Madurese (1859: 140).7 It is evident that through establishing such categories and classifying people accordingly, an increasing process of “othering” took place.8 Such categorisa-tions produced bounded ethnic groups. Additionally, the Chinese were distin-guished from other ethnic groups within Indonesia when they became assigned to the division of “Foreign Orientals” or “Oriental Foreigners”, which the Dutch had set up in 1854; the other divisions were “Europeans” and “Natives” (Coppel 2001: 34; see also Coppel 1999; Lombard and Salmon 1994: 128). The Chinese were further differentiated into the peranakan, those who were born in Indo-nesia, and the totok, the community of the non-Indonesian-born Chinese that was continuously growing due to further immigration. Both discriminations were taken over by the post-colonial state – the Indonesian government (Cop-pel 2001; Abalahin 2005; Suryadinata 2007a; Godley and Lloyd 2001). The Chi-nese were conceived of as a particular, exclusive ethnic group that practiced rituals emphasizing their “Chineseness” (Coppel 1999; Hoon 2008). The “pure” Indonesians became “pribumi” and the Chinese “non-pribumi” – an identifica-tion that was accompanied by increasing ethnic tensions. As is well known, by 1959 the Chinese (subsumed under “foreigners”, “yang bersifat asing”) were al-ready no longer allowed to carry on trade and small business.9 They were forced to close offices down by 1960;10 most of the shopkeepers at that time were Chi-nese (Tempo online, 13.08.2007, accessed June 23, 2011). Moreover, the Chinese were perceived as a class of entrepreneurs or businessmen whose success was at the expense of non-Chinese employees (Coppel 2001). Under the New Order regime with its assimilation policy, the Chinese had to change their names to Indonesian names in 1967, and to give up all religious practices and customs that distinguished them from those who were “pribumi” (Coppel 2001; see

7 Half of the population (household heads) – 6,434 families – consisted of what Bloemen-Waanders categorised as “slaves” (ibidem).

8 Somers Heidhues raises the question whether an “othering” of the Chinese might have already existed in pre-colonial time. She examines Malay-Indonesian narratives and sta-tes that Chinese are largely absent in these texts. Finally, she comes to the conclusion that the Malay histories were part of court lore and “determined to display the Islamic creden-tials of the reign” (2010: 77); the Chinese apparently have no place in this type of texts, though they do appear in other literature.

9 As early as in 1956, the Chinese were characterised as an “exclusive and monopolistic group” by Indonesian politicians (Kuhn 2008:289).

10 “Perusahaan-perusahaan perdagangan ketjil dan etjeran jang bersifat asing jang terkena larangan berdasarkan Surat Keputusan Menteri Perdagangan tanggal 14 Mei 1959 No. 2933/M sudah harus tutup selambat-lambatnja pada tanggal 1 Djanuari 1960 […]” (Per-aturan Presiden Republik Indonesia Nomor 10 Tahun 1959).



Heryanto 1998; Tan 1991). All Chinese schools had to close down and publica-tions using Chinese characters and language were forbidden (Keputusan Pre-sidium Kabinet No. 127/U/Kep/12/1966 and Instruksi Presiden No. 14/1967). The public performance of religious dances, such as barong say, were also prohib-ited since they were seen as “cultural” rather than religious (Coppel 2001; Ab-alahin 2005).

The systematic discrimination against the Chinese clearly followed an “eth-nic,” or rather a racist, pattern. However, this ethnic category was complement-ed by a further categorisation – that of religion – which reinforced the separation from the Muslim majority, on the one hand, and gradually split up the Chinese among themselves according to the religion with which they aligned them-selves, on the other hand. Religion – a Western or rather Christian concept in-troduced to Indonesia also by the colonial power – served as a further “classificatory device” (Picard 2011: 3) and created new realities. It even sepa-rated those practices and beliefs from each other, which those who performed them had not considered as fundamentally distinct. Goris’ publication (1931) reveals that a surprising diversity of religious practices, apart from what West-ern scholars understood by then as “Hinduism,” “Buddhism,” or “Islam,” existed in pre-colonial and early colonial Bali.11 In his efforts to shed light onto appar-ently puzzling varieties of practices, he identified and classified them as “sects” – that is, minor “sidelines” of orthodox or straightforward “religions.” As a result, the creation of religion as a category and sects as subcategories produced an-other set of majorities and minorities.

Religion as a category was taken over, modified, and narrowed down by the Indonesian state by acknowledging only five world religions as agama for its citizens.12 The struggle of the Balinese majority to gain the recognition of their religion, “Hinduism”, by the Indonesian state produced the development of a shared identity that encompassed individual villages (Picard 1999, 2011b). Since then, not least under the influence of Parisada Hindu Dharma, the Hindu reli-gion organisation, a process of gradual constriction and standardisation of

11 “Hinduism” and “Buddhism” were introduced to Bali as labels of religions only in the 19th century (Picard 2011:20, n.8).

12 Agama, as defined by the Indonesian state, has to fulfil the following criteria: 1) It must “constitute a way of life for its adherents”; 2) it must “teach belief in the existence of The One Supreme God”; 3) it must “have a holy book [kitab suci]”; and 4) it must “be led by a prophet [nabi]” (Abalahin 2005: 121). The officially recognised agama are: Islam, Protes-tantism, Catholicism, Hinduism and Buddhism. All other beliefs and religious practices are called kepercayaan, “beliefs.”



Balinese Hinduism has taken place13 and with it, an ethnicity that excludes all those who are not “Hindu” (see chapter by Meike Rieger in this volume).

It was only in 1999, after some of the worst anti-Chinese riots Indonesia had ever experienced and the subsequent fall of the New Order regime, when Pres-ident Habibie abolished the discrimination against the Chinese and the distinc-tion between “pribumi” and “non-pribumi” (Instruksi Presiden Republik Indonesia Nomor 26 Tahun 1998). All Indonesians were to be considered as “warga Negara Indonesia” and any discrimination according to ethnic group (suku), religion, or race was unlawful (Danandjaja 2000). Finally, in 2001, Presi-dent Abdurrahman Wahid declared the Chinese New Year an officially recog-nised holiday. He also lifted the ban on the use of Chinese characters and names, as well as on the import of publications in Chinese letters (ibidem).14 With the new Citizenship Law that President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono endorsed in 2006, “asli [original] Indonesian” included all citizens who had never assumed foreign citizenship of their free will. With regard to citizenship, all distinction according to origin, race, or religion was thereby officially lifted (Hoon 2008: 180).

These discriminations and their subsequent abolishment naturally affected the Chinese in Bali as well. During or after the “communist” cleansing or mas-sacre in 1965, in which time many Chinese were killed, the shrine of I Ratu Ngurah Subandar in the Batur temple was moved out of the jeroan (inner court-yard) of the temple and taken to the jaba tengah (“middle” outer courtyard).15 Many disasters happened immediately afterwards, which the inhabitants of Batur attributed to the removal of the shrine. As a consequence, the shrine was relocated back into the jeroan again.

13 But see Howe for varieties of Hinduism (2001: 138-162).14 The famous case of the marriage between Budi and Lany, a couple who wanted to have

their marriage acknowledged as Confucian, finally ended in an official approval. However, this has not yet led to the recognition of a legal status of Confucianism as agama (see Suryadinata 2007b: 265-282; also see Ramstedt 2004: 18 and Picard 2011: 20, ftn.17). The presidential decree of 1967 (Instruksi Presiden Nomor 14 Tahun 1967 tentang Agama, Kepecercayaan, dan Adat Istiadat Cina) that had banned all cultural and religious prac-tices of ethnic Chinese during the new order regime was annulled by Presiedent Abdur-rahman Wahid on January 17, 2000. Thereby the Penetapan Presiden Republik Indonesia Nomor 1 Tahun 1965 tentang Pencegahan Penyalahgunaan dan/atau Penodaan Agama (Kepres no1/Pn.Ps/1965) as formulated by Sukarno become valid again; there, “khong Cu (Confucius)” is explicitly recognised as agama. I am grateful to Sutjiati Beratha for this information.

15 Eisenman (1990) and Gottowik (2005) give different dates for the removal of the shrine.



Trade and Representations of Foreigners in a Hindu Temple

The abolishment of the suppression of the “ethnic Chinese” and their culture led to a revival of Chinese cultural practices after the fall of the New Order re-gime and an increased visibility of the Chinese in public life.

The coming into being of Agama Hindu in Bali through the processes just briefly described is, at least from a political standpoint, a success story. With regard to those Balinese who are neither Hindu, Muslim nor Christian, the as-signment of their ritual practices and their deities to distinct categories, such as Buddhism, Confucianism (called Kong Hu Chu or Konghucu) and Taoism, or rather a merging of all of them into Tridharma, is still an ongoing process. How-ever, Buddhism is recognised by the state as agama while the others are not. Several Buddhist organisations, which also have European and non-Chinese Indonesian members, are independent from Tridharma (see Brown 2004; Sury-adinata 2007b: 265-282), though relations exist between them.

It would have indeed been difficult, for example, in the late-19th and early-20th centuries, to identify any of their localised practices as belonging unequiv-ocally to a single one of these religions. Geertz wrote: “[…] grand ceremonies in the curious syncretistic style (part Sino-Buddhist, part Bali-Hindu) [are] still characteristic of the island’s Chinese” (1980: 94) (Figure 3.2). To my knowledge, there are only a few temples left that are used for rituals by communities of different faiths and practices. The political pressure for a modern Indonesian citizen to “have” an agama, rather than just kepercayaan, increasingly results in people’s alignments to standardised religions and their delineations. However, one of the senior elders of Batur village called the shrine of I Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar and the deities associated with it in the temple of Pura Ulun Danu Batu, “Siwa-Buda,” thereby alluding to the fact that no clear-cut boundaries ex-ist between Hinduism and Buddhism with regard to this deity.

The Batur temple in Kintamani, where the barong say performance (briefly mentioned above) took place, is one of the few Hindu temples where sites for non-Hindu deities still exist. These non-Hindu deities or ancestors are all related to trade and former kebandaran. The participation of the Tionghoa Balinese and the Batur village community in the veneration of I Ratu Ngu rah Subandar has changed over time. The temple has a long, though twist-ed, genealogy (Wälty 1997; Reuter 2002; Hauser-Schäublin 2005, 2011).16 Nieu-wenkamp mentioned a “Chineesche temple” he had seen as part of the Batur temple complex in 1904 (1922: 158). He also mentioned a Chinese community

16 The last substantial change took place when the temple was moved from the bottom of the Batur crater in the 1930s to the top of the Batur caldera where it is located today.



in Penelokan that was involved in trade.17 The Batur temple had been a royal temple in so far as it was a ritual centre to which villages from regions that constituted the domain of a lord or king had to bring annual tributes mostly in kind (from agriculture, animal husbandry, fishing, hunting, handicraft, and im-ported products from inter-maritime trade) (Hauser-Schäublin 2005). The rice fields of the domain benefited, in return, from the irrigation water (and addi-tionally sanctified water) that was (and still is) considered a gift of the female

17 In 1917, Niewenkamp noted that the Chinese had moved to Kintamani; there were no longer any traces left of them in Penelokan (1922: 158,173). An important interregional market is still located in Kintamani. There are Balinese of Chinese descent living in Kin-tamani, more or less beside Hindu Balinese and Muslims. However, as far as I could make out, they have no klenteng established there, only sites of ancestor worship in the indi-vidual houses. One of the most important ritual centres of the Tionghoa in the Kintamani area is the village of Kumbangsari on the main road down to Singaraja.

Figure 3.2 The amalgamation of a kongco or Chinese site of worship (Tempat Ibadat Tridharma) with a Balinese temple, Griya Kongco Dwipayana, in Tanah Kilap, Denpasar, 2011. Photo by Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin



deity Dewi Danu and ritually administered by temple priests at the Batur tem-ple (Lansing 1991). The earliest kings or dynasties obviously had their palaces in the mountainous region (between today’s Pura Penulisan, Kintamani, Pura Dalem Balingkang, near Pingan village, and the Batur Lake) (Reuter 2002; Haus-er-Schäublin 2004b). All these sites are near the old trading routes that led from the north coast across the mountains to the south.18 There were several har-bours along the north coast, as Ardika’s archaeological investigations have shown (2008), and each harbour was more or less directly linked with these north-south trading routes and the interregional markets – probably predeces-sors of today’s Kintamani market – already mentioned in the 11th century in-scriptions (Hauser-Schäublin and Ardika 2008:229-294).

Thus, the subandar, their relations with the court, and their trade clearly extended to Batur and beyond. The shrine in the jeroan of the Batur temple documents the influence and importance of this figure up to the present day. Many stories about Ratu Subander and his relationship to the king in Dalem Balingkang have evolved (Gottowik 2005; Salmon and Sidharta 2000b). The villagers of Batur associate the deified ancestor I Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar with the famous harbourmaster in the service of king Jayapangus, who ruled between the saka year 1099 and 1103 (1177-1188 CE). His palace was possibly lo-cated at Balingkang.19 I Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar was allegedly the subandar of the harbour at Pekonjongan (near Sembirenteng), which was the most im-portant port of entry for this kingdom.20

Today, Ratu Subandar is not the only “foreigner” of different faith represent-ed in the temple of Pura Ulun Danu Batur, though the location of his shrine documents his prominence. Shrines for other respectable “foreigners” are lo-cated in the adjacent Pura Bale Agung.21 They represent: I Ratu Dalem Majapahit/I Ratu Dalem Madura (eastern Java), I Ratu Dalem Layar (symbol-izing boatmen and merchants from India), I Ratu Dalem Mekah (symbolizing Arab traders), and I Ratu Dalem Mesium (symbolizing boatmen and traders from Siam). 22 All of them are regarded as symbols or representations of Muslim

18 There are still several mule tracks leading up from the north coast to the Batur area. The most prominent are the tracks from harbours that were located near today’s Sembiren-teng or Pura Pekonjongan, Tejakula and Pura Ponjok Batu (near Pacung/Julah).

19 There are 43 pieces of inscriptions issued by Jayapangus still extant today; see Budiastra 1976/77. Jayapangus’ edicts mainly concern a village named Daya (which is clearly in the Batur area).

20 Today, the sea temple of Pekonjongan is visited by Batur villagers for purification rituals.21 Pura Bale Agung are temples in which one or two long halls stand; they serve as the

assembly halls of the village association.22 These five defied ancestors are subsumed under “Dalem Pemosan”.



traders who came on annual trading missions to Batur in earlier times. Accord-ing to the festival calendar, the deities arrive on sasih Kepitu (Seventh Balinese month) in Batur and they stay for a month in Pura Jaba Kuta (“Temple Outside of the Village Enclosure”). On sasih Keulu (Eighth Balinese month), the dignitar-ies of Batur village meet them there and present them with special black offer-ings, called banten slem (slem implying “Muslim” or “Islam”), that is, offerings and “meals” which are free of pork (pork is otherwise highly esteemed by Hin-du Balinese deities). On this occasion, the villagers of Batur kill a calf to honour these guests.23 The representatives of Batur then escort these visitor-deities to the area where today three Pura Dalem are located. One of these temples is called Pura (Dalem) Pemosan (mosan – move, B.I. pindah). There are shrines for them and they reside there for a couple of months. On sasih Kasa (First Balinese month), they are escorted to the Pura Bale Agung and seated on the high Bale Pesamuan, right in the centre of this temple. This is one of the most honorary places, where, probably in former times, the king in power received deputies of the villagers and held an audience. Today, no humans (except priests for the purpose of depositing offerings there) are allowed to climb up this bale.

These guests from far-off countries stay there for a whole month until the last day of the festival of sasih Kedasa (Tenth Balinese month). The last ritual act, carried out by senior members of the balirama (village association), con-stitutes the farewell to these honoured guests (bakti petetani) by presenting them with gifts typical for Batur (small portions of various fish from the Batur lake) to take on their long journey back home.

These Muslim deities stand for respected visitors who regularly came to the Batur area on an acknowledged mission and apparently also had some special authority.24 We can even say that they were part of the network of the keban-daran of the subandar and his or their patron, the king. I Ratu Ngurah Subandar is said to have brought his daughter/the daughter of a Chinese trader/a Chinese princess to Bali where she became the (first) wife of Jayapangus (see also Ban-dem 2011: 92-94; Gottowik 2005). Thus, it is the story of the Chinese “wife-giver” – which is widespread in Indonesia (Somers Heidhues 2010) – who provided the king with the most precious gift, a woman. This Chinese princess, who re-mained childless, is venerated as I Ratu Ayu Subandar in a shrine in the Pura Dalem Balingkang (near Pinggan village); there, also the tonan – the cremation

23 The members of Batur village who join the meal have to cleanse themselves afterwards with tirtha (holy water) before they are allowed to enter a temple again since the cow is a sacred animal in Hinduism.

24 They are said to have always inquired in a ritual manner about the situation in Batur in earlier times when they resided in their estate at Dalem Pemosan.



or burial site – of Jayapangus is said to be located (see also Sulistyawati 2011). In any case, the legendary subandar was linked in many ways to the most powerful lord at that time. His shrine in the innermost temple courtyard of the Batur temple documents his high social standing and the corresponding support and esteem he received from the ruling house. The establishment of such shrines for “foreigners”, their physical and spiritual maintenance, and their integration into the ritual cycles of the local population was, I suggest, only possible with the backing of the paramount lord or king, who was interested in good relations between these merchants and the villagers and the temple authorities.

No members of Muslim communities officially participate any longer in any of the festivities for the deities from the Arab world, India, Siam/Thailand, and Java/Madura. Nevertheless, their shrines are well-kept and the rituals for them are painstakingly carried out by the temple priest and the balirama. The shape and style of the shrines cannot be distinguished from any other Hindu Balinese shrine.

Political Backing of Tionghoa Performances in Public

The shrine of I Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar has grown in size over the past 15 years and its shape has gradually shifted – through “renovations” – from a Hindu Balinese shrine to a building resembling more and more a Chinese tem-ple, but still with a distinct Hindu Balinese character. The decorations have become increasingly “Chinese” too: The red colour has become predominant and red lanterns with Chinese characters are displayed along the eaves of the building during ceremonies. This can be taken as a sign of the reawakened as-sertiveness of the Balinese Chinese community and an effort on behalf of the temple leaders to bring “Siwa-Buda” rituals together again.

While the Hindu Balinese speak of the shrine of I Ratu Ngurah Gede Suban-dar, the Tionghoa Balinese call it klenteng or kongce, that is, a Chinese temple. Instead of using the name or title of Subandar, the Tionghoa refer to the most important divinity as Cong Po Kong.25 The priest, as well as the members of the

25 See Salmon and Sidharta (2000b) for a detailed analysis of the Cong Po Kong. Cong Po Kong, mostly described as “cook”, is associated with the famous Ming admiral Zhen He (1371-1433). Chinese cooks were apparently highly appreciated at royal courts for the deli-cious dishes they were able to prepare. The story of Cong Po was recorded by the Sino-Thai merchant Chinkak in the 1840s. The Con Po Kong legend has many traits in common with the story told about the harbourmaster (I Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar) whose daughter was married to Jayapangus. It was the cook’s daughter who is said to have mar-ried a Balinese king (see Salmon and Sidharta 2000b).



organizing committee (panitia), is of Chinese descent and not a member of the Batur village community. He lives in Kumbangsari, a village on the main road to Singaraja that is well known for its many Tionghoa inhabitants. Nevertheless, the leading temple priest of the Batur temple, Jero Gede Duuran, also enters the shrine and it is he who is acknowledged to have the ultimate authority over the shrine.

The increased prominence the kongco has gained in the Batur temple can be traced back to important meetings in which the Tionghoa became acknowl-edged as a party in their own right. In January 2005, a meeting took place be-tween representatives of the Tionghoa organisation, Paguyuban Sosial Marga Tionghoa Indonesia (PSMTI, Indonesian Tionghoa Social Association), and the leaders of the Batur temple and Batur village (Sukadia 2011).26 They agreed to look after the shrine conjointly and to carry out rituals according to both Tion-ghoa and Hindu Balinese practices. The dress of the worshippers should follow Hindu Balinese rules. The Chinese representatives then handed over 400 kepeng coins to seal the agreement.27 The two parties promised to meet every year, each time at a different (predominantly Hindu Balinese) temple on a rotating basis: Pura Dalem Balingkang, Pura Penulisan or Pura Ulun Danu Batur (Sukadia 2011: 15), thus, all temples formerly related to the kebandaran and the social relations between king and subandar.28 On February 27, 2005, President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, accompanied by the Minister for Culture and Tourism (a native of Batur village), held a meeting with leaders from Batur village in the Pura Ulun Danu Batur. Among those who addressed the President was a Chinese who, on behalf of the PSMTI, appealed to the President to prevent any new discrimina-tion against the Chinese minority, and to allow them to live in peace. The Pres-ident assured the Chinese that they, like other minorities, will no longer suffer any discrimination but should be able to live in harmony with other communi-ties.

It was certainly this political backing by the President – another form of patronage – that strengthened the position of the Tionghoa community and

26 The non-religious organisation was founded in 1998 by Brigjen (Purn) Tedy Jusuf, who is Chinese and who had made a career in the army. This organisation is close to the govern-ment and views the Chinese as an important part of the Indonesian people, supporting the goals of the state: “Suku Tionghoa Warga Negara Kesatuan Republik Indonesia bersama komponen Bangsa Indonesia seluruhnya mempunyai hak dan kewajiban mem-bangun Negara Kesatuan Republik Indonesia menuju masyarakat adil dan makmur.” (http://psmti-pusat.org/id/visi-misi/, accessed January 19, 2012).

27 “Sebagai tanda bukti persahabatan warga Tionghoa dengan Desa Pakraman Batur” (Suka-dia 2011:16).

28 Each of these temples has a shrine dedicated to Chinese ancestors.



their endeavour to make the kongco part of their ritual life in a more pronounced way.

Since these meetings in 2005, the cooperation between the two ritual com-munities has intensified.29 Many renowned representatives of the Chinese com-munity pay respect to the Hindu Balinese rituals by participating in the major Hindu ritual of the 10th month at the Batur temple; they also make donations to the temple. Since they dress like Hindu Balinese and join their prayers, they cannot be distinguished from other worshippers.

The revival of Tionghoa culture and its visibility in public in Indonesia in general, as well as in Bali in particular, was heralded by the performance of barong say. The first barong say performance after Suharto’s 1967 decree and the severe anti-Chinese riots in May 1998, took place on November 7, 1998 at Semarang, Central Java. Two thousand people, including both Chinese and non-Chinese Indonesians, watched the barong say dance and the way it performed the misfortune-dispelling ritual. Again on November 19, the barong say took to the streets of Solo (Surakarta). Even the (Islamic) National Mandate Party com-missioned the barong say troupe on several occasions for the inauguration of their local branches. Barong say performances also took place at the first Imlek (Chinese New Year) celebration after the end of the New Order in Semarang; this day was the last day of Ramadan and everybody feared that some outbreak of violence would take place, but everything went smoothly (Abalahin 2005: 138-139).

Characteristically, the first barong say performance in the Batur temple fol-lowed the first official meeting between the Tionghoa Balinese community and the authorities of the Batur temple (Sukadia 2011: 16). The barong say dance had existed before in Bali, too30 but according to my interlocutors, it had been com-pletely abandoned in the late-1960s as a consequence of the anti-Chinese regu-lations.31 For the revival of the barong say in Bali, Tionghoa experts from Manado were invited to teach the dance and the design of the costumes.

29 Immediately after the President had left, one of the statues (Dewi Kwan Im, which is paralleled by the Hindu Balinese with Dewi Sri) in the kongco started to spout water, which was considered as sanctified water. The news spread over the whole island and many people (of different faiths) came to ask for some of this water. They brought along statues of Buddha to be located for some time near the kongco in order to benefit from Kwam Im’s emanations. One morning, when the priest entered the shrine, the statue had become broken (see also Sukadia 2011).

30 The barong say was an important figure in Bali in so far as this Chinese figure gave rise to what is considered the Balinese barong ket (see Belo 1949: 32-33 and Gottowik 2005).

31 Only in a few places in Indonesia were such dances performed during this time, however, behind closed doors.



Shared Worship of I Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar/Cong Po Kong

Nowadays, at least one barong say pair (a male with a black and a female with a red costume) and a huge naga (snake), brought from a klenteng in Badung or Buleleng to the temple, perform during the annual festival of the kongco shrine in the Batur temple. This anniversary takes place one month after Batur’s own huge temple festival of the 10th month (pujawali/ngusaba of sasih Kedasa). These sacred figures32 also pay homage to the Batur Hindu deities and are sanc-tified with holy water (tirtha). During their highly artistic performance, which is accompanied by a small Chinese orchestra, the barong say are also “fed” with Chinese paper money (hungpau, to beg for blessing) by the Tionghoa pilgrims. These barong say figures are seen as banning all evil and the naga as providing the site with positive energy. The major story one of the barong say pair dances in Batur is the well-known story about the marriage of king Jayapangus to a Chinese woman, the daughter of the commemorated harbourmaster, I Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar.33 Thus, the barong say dance especially created for Batur celebrates the unity between the Hindu Balinese and the Tionghoa Bali-nese.

Representatives of the Batur village association, balirama, participate in the ritual of the anniversary (the Tionghoa Balinese call it sejid, the Hindu-Balinese, odalan) of I Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar/Cong Po Kong. The balirama con-structs a sanggar with special offerings on it for this occasion and sets up a penjor (Balinese flag) beside it. A big offering containing an artistically deco-rated pig’s head (jatah) is one of the most important presents the inhabitants of Batur deposit in front of the shrine of I Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar.

Members of the desa pakraman (customary village) pray there, on the ground and in front of the offering table, which is covered with a red cloth with Chinese characters on it, in a Hindu Balinese manner. As one of my interlocutors point-ed out, the abode of Ratu Subandar is for them similar to a shrine (pelinggih) for the deity of the market, Dewi Melanting: their blessing is needed for suc-cessful commercial activities. Cong Po Kong is regarded by the Tionghoa as a deified ancestor who is worshipped as a progenitor, and his benevolence is also needed for economic success and happiness. Consequently, the Hindu Balinese

32 There are sacred barong say and profane ones; the latter are used for artistic performances not linked to ritual context. The barong say pair dancing at Batur belong to the former category.

33 As the story goes (or at least one version of it), Jayapangus and his Chinese wife are repre-sented in Barong Landung figures (a black male figure and his wife with a sweet white face, apparently a Chinese) (see also Gottowik 2005). According to his edicts, Jayapangus had two wives (Budiastra 1976/77: 16). The inscriptions also make clear that he promoted both Siwaism and Buddhism.



and the Tionghoa Balinese venerate the same figure and associate similar ben-efits, though imagining different origins and aspects of it.

The Tionghoa worshippers follow their own course of the ritual, which starts with the lighting of many incense sticks (the number chosen corresponds with the number of sites of deities/ancestors to be presented with these sticks) in front of the offering table. They then, with bare feet, climb up the kongco (as they always do when they enter a Chinese temple) and enter it. They follow the course of sacred sites where deities/ancestors are to be venerated individually. When they step down again, the last act of worship consists of the burning of Chinese paper money (hungpau) in the oven destined for this purpose next to the kongco. A ritual, the communal worship with a bebankit offering, directed by the assembly of the Hindu Balinese temple authorities, actually the very leaders of the temple, concludes the festival in the late afternoon.

The Agama-nisation of Chinese Ritual Practices

The outline of the shrine/kongco of I Ratu Ngurah Gede Subandar/Cong Po Kong and the main ritual associated with it illustrates how Tionghoa Balinese and Hindu Balinese concepts and practices have fused in the sense of hybridity (Hoon 2008: 22-26). It is indeed an example of what one of the Batur elders described as “Siwa-Buda,” and difficult to assign to any bounded religious cat-egory. Nevertheless, “religion” is important, especially for the Tionghoa com-munities, since the recognition of their religion can be carried out only by the state. Therefore, relations to established denominations are necessary, in par-ticular to the Buddhists.

It is through the Tionghoa Balinese community that Buddhist communities in general have become aware of Pura Ulun Danu Batur. Whereas there were individual Buddhist monks visiting the temple already in 2008, an official pil-grimage of the Theravada Buddhist organisation (Y.M. Bhikkhu Sri Pannyavaro Mahathera) came to the temple in 2010, as Sukadia writes, on a “Safari Dharma” (2011: 21).34

The political requirements of “world religions” and their definition as set for us by the Indonesian state have served, as the case of Hinduism has shown, as normative guidelines for “adjustments” of rather varied practices. A similar pro-cess takes place with regard to Buddhism; for example, the old klenteng – formerly also called kongco – in Blahbatu (Gianyar), which is located in the

34 The older of the two Jero Gede (that is, one of the highest ranking priests of the Batur temple), Jero Gede Alitan, said that he had been in this office for 52 years but had never seen Buddhist monks in this temple before (Sukadia 2011: 21).



gorge of the Petanu river, was formerly visited not only by Chinese but also by Hindu Balinese due to the sacredness of the site.35 It was “Dewa Bumi” who was worshipped there. A couple of years ago, the congregation decided to add a new building in which a Buddha statue should be located. In 2010, a colossal statue of Buddha and a huge Buddha footprint were bought in Thailand, trans-ported to Bali and set up near the riverbank at a short distance from the temple buildings. Consequently, the term kongco was changed into vihara and the temple was henceforth called Vihara Amurva Bhumi.36 New networks with other vihara in Bali (especially with the Sakyamuni monastery in Denpasar) and beyond were established and Buddhist monks were invited to officiate at rituals. The Vihara Sakyamuni is part of a pan-Indonesian organisation, Sangha Theravada Indonesia (http://www.samaggi-phala.or.id/sangha-theravada-indo-nesia/vihara-sti/, accessed January 19, 2012), which is closely associated with corresponding international organisations, the closest links being with Bud-dhist organisations in Thailand.37 At the same time, Theravada teachings pro-vide the spiritual guidelines for the reorientation of the community in Blahbatu. A long, photo-gallery of Buddhist monks, all clad in saffron-coloured robes and with shaved heads, documents the “agama-nisation” (Abalahin 2005: 122) – with a Southeast Asian Theravada orientation – that this site of worship and its congregation are undergoing.

In contrast to Balinese Hinduism, where (at least partly) an increasing ori-entation toward Indian Hinduism over the past few decades can be noticed (Ramstedt 2008), the Balinese-Chinese Confucianism or Konghucu ritual prac-tices and their denomination seem to follow a different way. Chinese associa-tions in Indonesia had already been founded in 1900, and an all-Indies federation, called Khong Kauw Tjong Hwee, united all local Chinese organisations between 1923 and 1926, and again from 1938 until the Japanese invasion in 1942. It is this latter organisation to which today’s organisation, Majelis Tinggi Agama

35 Klenteng is a Javanese expression. In Bali, my interlocutors said that the old expression for a Chinese temple in Bali is kongco. Only temples which house a gong or a big drum, such as Tridharma temples, are called klenteng, since klenteng is an onomatopoeic term refer-ring to the sound of the temple bell or drum.

36 Today, only those worship sites that house a Buddha statue are called vihara (monaster-ies).

37 The Sangha Theravada Indonesia was founded in 1976. Today, the organisation counts over 30 monks (bhikku) “of both Chinese and Malay ethnic origin” who live in about 25 vihara, most of them located in Java. The bhikku travel throughout Indonesia to teach. Sri Lankan monks contributed substantially to the revival of (Theravada) Buddhism in Indo-nesia. Of special importance was the symbolic act by a Sri Lankan monk who planted the sapling of a bodhi tree at Borobudur in 1934 (http://parami.org/duta/indonesi.htm, accessed January 19, 2012).


http://parami.org/duta/indonesi.htm

http://parami.org/duta/indonesi.htm


Konghucu Indonesia, owes a great deal (Abalahin 2005: 124). My ongoing re-search on the ritual practices of non-Christian and non–Muslim Chinese and their understanding of agama in Bali shows that the movement of what is called Majelis Tridharma Indonesia, including Confucianism, Buddhism and Taoism, is rapidly expanding. This organisation unites Chinese, regardless of their social standing, throughout Indonesia and especially their temples, or klenteng or bio. Thus, many of the Chinese temples nowadays display the symbols of Tridharma on their walls. Others, such as the new klenteng in Ubung/Denpasar, Cao Fuk Miao, present three inner compartments according to these three different ori-entations. However, in practice, the worshippers pay homage to all the deities represented there.38 The mutual support between the individual Tridharma klenteng is impressive. They not only communicate easily with each other but support each other whenever needed and generously donate money for the construction of a new klenteng. In Ubung, there is a list of 34 Tempat Ibadah Tridharma (Places of Worship of Tridharma), which, apart from private spon-sors, have contributed to the building. They range from locations in Bali and Lombok and other places in Nusa Tenggara Barat to many provinces in Java, Riau, Sumatra, Sulawesi, and even Kalimantan.

Nevertheless, this unification of different strands of Chinese religious prac-tices in Tridharma, regardless of the occupation or social standing of their mem-bers, is not new. It goes back to the Gabungan Sam Kauw Indonesia (The Three Religions Federation of Indonesia), which was constituted in 1934 (Brown 2004: 51, 1989: 107-108).39 This movement was founded by Sam Kauw to unify the Chinese against Christian proselytization.40

38 It is interesting to note that these three different religious orientations are represented only in a reduced or modified way in several of these klenteng: for example, a statue of Buddha is missing and the female deity Kwan Im is said to symbolise Buddhism. In 2012 a discussion arose between adherents of Confucianism and members of the Tridharma congregation. The former claimed that all temples called klenteng are agama Konghocu while the followers of Tridharma opposed to this interpretation. As a consequence, the latter no longer called their temples klenteng but tempat ibadah.

39 On the website of Tridharma, the following explanation is given: “Gabungan Tridharma Indonesia (GTI) yang kemudian menjadi Majelis Tridharma, PTITD (Perhimpunan Tem-pat Ibadaht Tridharma) dan MARTRISIA (Majelis Rohaniwan Tridharma Seluruh Indone-sia) secara organisatoris dan administratif berada dibawah pembinaan Departemen Agama RI up. Direktorat Jenderal Bimbingan Masyarakat Hindu & Buddha yang kemu-dian menjadi Direktorat Jenderal Bimbingan Masyarakat Buddha“ (website Tri Dharma Indonesia, http://www.tridharma.or.id/index.php?mid=144&lvl=1; accessed June 26, 2011.

40 One result of all these transformation processes since colonial times is the unification by religious practices of the Tionghoa in Tridharma regardless of their occupation and kin-ship. On the other hand, different religious practices seem to dissociate them from each


http://www.tridharma.or.id/index.php?mid=144&lvl=1


Apart from being members of national and transnational organisations, such as Tridharma and separate associations according to the particular religions (Buddhism, Confucianism and Taoism), many klenteng belong to networks of klenteng. The klenteng in Singaraja for example (Lin Gwan Kiong; Salmon and Sidharta give the names Gongzu [kongco] Miao and Lingyuan gong; 2000a: 9), belongs to a network of nine klenteng or vihara. What unites them is not the organisations mentioned, but rather the main divinity of the temple, often spo-ken of as tuan rumah, the landlord. His name is rendered as Tan Hu Cin Jin, Tan being the name of a marga or clan (Team Penulis n.d.; see Salmon and Sid-harta 2000a; Eisenman 1990: 120-122). According to a Malay narrative (written down some time in the 19th century, but probably dating back to the 18th or even 17th century), Tan Hu Cin Jin was the title of a Chinese whose name was Kongco (Salmon and Sidharta 2000a). He was firstly the captain of a sloop. Later – depending on the version of the narrative – he was asked by either the raja of Buleleng (Singaraja), Blambangan (East Java), or Mengwi to build a new palace or a new royal temple. He was able to complete this task in only three days thanks to his magical powers. Since people feared his powers, they wanted to kill him but he escaped to East Java. In Lateng, East Java, people erected the first sanctuary to the commemoration of Kongco. As Salmon and Sidharta point out, Kongco became the protecting ancestor of the Chinese in East Java and Bali, where the cult spread (Salmon und Sidharta 2000a). In fact, the Lin Gwan Kiong temple in Buleleng was formerly called kongco. Kongco seems to have become the local term for “ancestors” and at the same time for a certain type of Chinese temples, as the examples given above have shown. This term denoting the temple was apparently abandoned when the temple became a member of the Tridharma movement. The eight other klenteng/vihara are located in Rogo-jampi/Jatim (Java), Banyuwangi (Java), Negara (Bali), Probolinggo/Jatim (Java), Ampenan (Lombok), Kuta/Badung (Bali), Tabanan (Bali), and Besuki (Java). These nine temples have been photographed, provided with captions and ar-ranged into a framed picture displayed on the wall of the respective klenteng. The klenteng in Singaraja is linked – though rather loosely – to the shrine/kong-co of I Ratu Gede Ngurah Subandar in the Pura Ulun Danu Batur as well.

However, apart from these many intersecting links, individual Chinese of non-Christian and non-Muslim faith increasingly travel to China and revive kinship and religious ties to people and institutions there. As a consequence of this intensified relationship to China, the shape, style, and furnishings of new klenteng resemble more and more what really looks like Chinese temples.

other. However, these issues need further investigation to determine the consequences for contemporary “Chineseness”.



Sometimes influence in style from Thailand can be noted as well. The reason for this gradual adaptation of a “Chinese” style lies in the fact that those respon-sible for the construction and furnishings of such a temple – such as the head of the klenteng in Ubung – commission most of the furniture, including statues, in China and have it transported to Bali.41

Conclusion

The Chinese-isation or “resinicization” of the Tionghoa ritual practices and the Tionghoa themselves – as promoted, for example, by the Paguyuban Sosial Marga Tionghoa and the INTI, the Tionghoa Indonesian Association – is an ongoing process (Hoon 2008: 77-86). The Chinese-isation has not only become more and more visible in public life, as the barong say performances have shown, but has also become apparent on an individual or interpersonal level. The dignitaries, for example, who have the function of priest or rohaniwan in a klenteng recently started to wear long, “traditional” Chinese gowns while offici-ating at a ceremony, and other forms of “traditional” dress are often promoted (Figure 3.3). Even the way people greet each other has moved away from folding hands in the Hindu Balinese way to the traditional Chinese greeting hand ges-ture. Workshops and factories have opened within Indonesia that specialise in all kinds of products used for Tionghoa (mainly Tridharma) rituals. Chinese newspapers and magazines have been set up again, as well as teaching institu-tions in which Tionghoa children (and adults) are taught Chinese characters/writing and language (mostly Mandarin).

However, the Tionghoa Balinese understand themselves also as being both Indonesian and Balinese citizens. They do not even think of returning “forever” to China, but – especially in the case of some of their leaders who are well-off – enjoy travelling back and forth. The identities they have crafted are cosmo-politan and fit their understanding of modernity. Thus, it is indeed a diaspora the Tionghoa Balinese are forming by living in and between two countries: the – perhaps nostalgic – homeland of their ancestral origin, China, and both their and their children’s home in the actual lifeworld, Bali and Indonesia. Further-more, they are engaged in many different networks, national as well as trans-national (Tan 2007): the national associations of the Tionghoa, regardless of

41 In the courtyard of the klenteng in Ubung, there is also a Hindu Balinese shrine wrapped with black and white chequered cloth in the area of this Chinese temple. This shrine is dedicated to the “tuan tanah”, an acknowledgement that the Chinese temple is actually built on Hindu Balinese land.



Figure 3.3 A Chinese Balinese bridal couple visits the klenteng of Ubung (Denpasar) before marriage, 2011. Photo by Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin



religion (PSMT and INTI), national religious networks of the Tionghoa, such as Tridharma, and international ties to established religious organisations (main-ly Buddhism, which was recognised by the Indonesian state as agama) in dif-ferent countries. These manifold networks offer them a plurality of means of identification.

With their self-positioning in a web of networks, the non-Muslim and non-Christian Tionghoa show a new self-determined form of what they consider Chineseness. It is a Chineseness in terms of descent or origin combined with a specific cosmopolitan lifestyle – but “localised” in Indonesia in general, and Bali in particular.42 We can assume that different understandings and articulations of Chineseness exist as a special form of identity, also depending on the reli-gious assignments, the different positioning within the multiple modernities, as well on the particular social and political contexts. Chineseness is, therefore, something other than the essentialised category it was earlier conceived as and used as a political category of “othering”. However, this stereotyping and dis-criminating racist category still exists and is applied, as several of my interlocu-tors confirmed, especially in administrative contexts (state bureaucracy) run by non-Chinese Indonesians. They confirmed what one of Hoon’s interview partners also stated (2008: 79): “They treat us as economic animals; we are ig-nored and kept waiting, and we have to pay extra bribes to get what we actu-ally have a right to get”. Thus, the stereotypes and old categorisations are still at work – though unlawful and hidden beneath a pretended political correctness.

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From Subandar to Tridharma: Transformations and interactions of Chinese communities in Bali

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