The Changing World of Bali

Religion, Society and Tourism

Leo Howe

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2006
• ISBN:
  9781134217809
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Anthropology
• Index: Social Sciences

The glossy guide book image of Bali is of a timeless paradise whose people are devoutly religious and artistically gifted. However, a hundred years of colonialism, war and Indonesian independence, and tourism have produced both modernizing changes and created an image of Bali as 'traditional'.

Incorporating up-to-date ethnographic field work the book investigates the myriad of ways in which the Balinese has responded to the influx of outside influence. The book focuses on the fascinating interrelationship between tourism, economy, culture and religion in Bali, painting a twenty-first century picture of the Balinese. In documenting these diverse changes Howe critically assesses some of the work of Bali's most famous ethnographer, Clifford Geertz and demonstrates the importance of a historically grounded and broadly contextualized approach to the analysis of a complex society.

1 Introduction

The Kuta bomb and Balinese culture

On the night of 12 October 2002 a bomb exploded outside the Sari Club in the tourist village of Kuta on Bali’s south coast, eventually killing over two hundred people. Within hours news of the tragedy had reached most areas of Bali and was being reported by the media throughout the world. In the first few days after the bomb there were many theories as to who the terrorists were. In the West, for example, it was widely assumed to be the act of an al Qa’ida terrorist cell, while among many Muslims in Indonesia it was believed to be the American CIA trying to discredit Islam. On the island, many blamed fanatical Muslims for trying to extend the communal violence in Ambon, Kalimantan, Lombok and other areas of Indonesia by inciting religious and ethnic violence in Hindu Bali, ultimately with a view to securing an Islamic state by destabilising the fragile incumbent one. However, though I am introducing the book in this way I am less interested in who the actual culprits were than in using the event to sketch some social and cultural themes that will later receive more detailed treatment.

There have been Balinese Muslims, especially in north Bali, for hundreds of years, but it was more recent migrants, mostly Muslims from Java and elsewhere in Indonesia working and living in the tourist areas and towns of south Bali, who quickly became targets for retaliation by Balinese Hindus. For several decades these migrant workers have been blamed for most of the crime, drug abuse, prostitution and other social ills besetting modern Bali. Ask many Balinese about these issues and the stereotypical reply is that ‘Balinese people do not do such things, it must be “orang jawa”’ – other Indonesians, though not necessarily Javanese. On occasion such migrants, when discovered in villages at night, have been killed by massed gangs of villagers on the assumption that they had commited or were about to commit a robbery.

An important issue lurks behind such killings. This is the idea, voiced both by some Balinese and by outside observers, that Balinese culture is being ‘sold’ for tourist dollars, thus debasing it and reducing it to a commodity. Over the years Balinese have displayed their artistic accomplishments – particularly music, dance and drama, often in truncated and impoverished forms – for the delight of tourists. They also willingly invite tourists into their homes and temples to witness a variety of colourful ceremonies such as cremations, weddings and tooth-filings. Most Balinese accept that it is this rich and sumptuous spectacle which brings tourists, both foreigners and other Indonesians, to Bali. People come to see Balinese culture, and therefore it must be accessible and tailored to tourist requirements. This orientation to tourist desires, which goes back to late colonial Bali, has encouraged Balinese to develop what to anthropologists appears a rather narrow concept of culture (kebudayaan, Ind.), consisting solely of these artistic and material productions. While many performances are part of everyday life and would be enacted whether or not tourists were present, others are specifically designed for an exclusive tourist audience, performed in special arenas – often hotels, have no religious significance, and are organised by entrepreneurs, businessmen and state tourist agencies for profit. This has fostered the notion that kebudayaan is a kind of object which Balinese possess but over which they no longer have sole control, because it is being shaped partly to suit the interests of the market and foreign investors. Balinese are the authors of this culture and are proud that others are willing to pay to experience it, but by putting it into the market place sole effective control is relinquished. If this culture has to some extent become a commodity, it implies it can be bought and sold, and even that it can be stolen. The purchase of precious agricultural land for tourist development – golf courses, theme parks, statues and hotels – mostly by non-Balinese, who turn a profit by utilising Balinese cultural themes to adorn and advertise their products, creates among Balinese a sense that they are being exploited and robbed, and that their culture is being contaminated. This leads to misgivings about the place of culture in tourism, and dilemmas about how to sustain tourism without debasing and losing Balinese culture.

Whatever the guidebooks say, it is important to guard against the view that in the past Bali was an isolated society enjoying an unchanging tradition free from outside interference, but which is now irretrievably breaking down under the onslaught of external and modernising influences. Bali has always been part of larger changing political and economic structures, and beset by internal conflict throughout its history. Though Bali is regularly described as a timeless and traditional paradise, it is essential to be aware of the very modern reasons – to keep the tourists coming for example – that such partial images are maintained and perpetuated. Once the image of unchanging tradition became influential, it proved hard for Balinese to resist its seductiveness and, as a result, to become concerned about the uncertain future of their society. The irony, as will become evident in later chapters, is that the attempt to maintain an ostensibly unchanging and ‘authentic’ culture itself creates change. Thus what is in fact novel may be interpreted by Balinese as the rediscovery and reinstatement of something old, and in this way the new becomes ‘traditionalised’. As Vickers (1996: 31) notes: ‘One can see more “traditional” rites and dances on Bali now than could have been observed in the nineteenth century.’ A hundred years of colonialism, war, Indonesian independence and tourism have certainly produced modernising change, but have also generated images of Bali as ‘traditional’.

As we shall see, the notion that Balinese possess a unique culture which is exclusively theirs and which needs to be kept intact, authentic and protected emerged during the colonial period. More recent incidents, however, help us recognise just how far this process has gone. Balinese tend to understand their social life as predicated on the central importance of certain kinds of material objects – sacred relics, masks, magically powerful daggers, ritual paraphernalia and other valuables – mostly kept in temples, and because there is occasional theft of such objects it has been common for a few men to keep watch overnight (makemit) within the temple precincts. Following some highly publicised temple thefts during the 1990s, and rumours of many more, all allegedly committed by non-Balinese, this form of security has been dramatically extended. Many villages now have a kind of civilian vigilante force (pacalangan), members of which gruffly patrol the village, act as guards at temples and ritual events, direct traffic, and so forth.

Temple thefts were always reprehensible and entailed much work – the specialist labour to replace the stolen objects and elaborate rituals to sacralise them – but they did not have wider repercussions. Now, however, they have assumed a more sinister undertone. Temple theft has become symbolic of stealing from, violating, and polluting not just a specific temple site, but Balinese culture as a whole (Santikarma 2001). Previously an isolated event, temple theft has come to be seen as a manifestation of a much wider process – the alienation of Balinese ‘culture’. Since it is difficult to blame foreign capitalists or tourists for these thefts, it has been the highly visible, poor and defenceless migrant Indonesians who have borne the brunt of Balinese violence. Given this increasingly exclusivistic notion of their threatened culture, Balinese have begun to draw the boundary between themselves and others much more tightly, their culture and religion becoming an ever more significant marker of ethnic identity and ethnic pride. After the bomb exploded, therefore, it was no surprise when Balinese – and many Westerners living in Bali – predicted that mobs of angry Balinese would soon begin attacking these Muslim outsiders.

In the event the anticipated retribution never happened. Almost immediately after the bombing Balinese politicians, religious and community leaders, and members of the middle class intelligentsia came out to plead that Balinese should not react with communal and ethnic inspired violence. However, such apparently altruistic calls for peace and moderation should not necessarily be taken at face value. Tourists – and with them their tourist dollars – had already embarked on a mass exodus. Kuta, Legian, Sanur, Nusa Dua, Ubud and other tourist areas in south Bali fell quiet as planes left the airport full but arrived empty. Since tourism accounts for about half the island’s economy, communal rioting, it was widely agreed, could only make this disastrous economic situation even worse. Such exhortations were clearly motivated by the recognition that a tolerant and peaceful response would facilitate a quick resumption of tourism and the money it earns.

Such a response, however, cannot just have been about vulgar economic interests. If one set of forces has created insecurity concerning the relation between Balinese and their culture, requiring violent retaliation against outsiders seen as the cause of social disorder, another set has painted a picture of Balinese people as deeply religious, tolerant, peaceful, and with a dislike of confrontation. These two images, created and internalised by Balinese and outsiders alike over a long period of time, are both partial. While many Balinese voice concerns over the effects of mass tourism, those off the tourist routes rack their brains to think of ways to bring the tourists in so that they too can enjoy some of the benefits. Thus instead of automatically blaming foreigners for the Kuta bombing, an alternative response for many Balinese was to turn inwards and consider their own culpability. Part of this response meant resorting to forms of action that they would usually use in such circumstances – ritual and the pacification of spirits thought to have engendered the crisis in the first place. And here we see Balinese living up to the images others have been partly responsible for creating. How else should Balinese behave when it is their ritual and religious life that has been put on a pedestal for everyone to admire (Couteau 2003)?

Thus, in direct contrast to those who blamed terrorists and outsiders for this monstrous crime, there were others who began to articulate a rather different discourse, in which they blamed themselves for the tragedy. In setting out ritually to cleanse and purify the bomb site, and indeed the whole of the island, Balinese asked themselves why this terrible catastrophe had chosen to benight them. Events on such a scale – earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, war, plagues of pests – are often explained as the anger of the gods and ancestors who have been neglected or insulted in some way. Even if it was an Islamic terrorist group which exploded the bomb, the perpetrators could be seen as merely the instruments of the unseen supernatural power of Balinese ancestors who wished to punish their living descendants and shock them into an appreciation of what was wrong with their society.

But what had the Balinese done to deserve this? According to Professor Suryani, a noted Balinese psychiatrist, many Balinese had forgotten a fundamental axiom of modern Balinese religious belief, the idea that there should be a harmonious balance between man and god, between man and nature, and between men, a balance known as Tri Hita Karana. Tempted by the tourist economy into becoming ever more greedy and materialistic, they had turned a blind eye to the commodification of their culture, the ecological degradation precipitated by tourism, and the unsavoury behaviour of some visitors. They had thus become responsible for morally unbalancing the cosmos, leaving the gods no alternative but to act as they did. An alternative explanation was that because of the increasing violence in Indonesia, and the lax moral attitudes of the Balinese in their own island, the gods had fled Bali, leaving the area unprotected and thus vulnerable to malign influences. In either case the Balinese had only themselves to blame, and the solution was a return to their religious roots and a thorough overhaul of how the tourist economy is managed. Consequently, many Balinese have argued that Kuta must not be allowed to revert to its previous ways. The bombing has created confusion for many Balinese – some blame outsiders, some blame themselves. Whoever was responsible, there is no doubt that the resulting upheaval has created massive unemployment, and led to a turning inwards as people cope with economic hardship and try to come to terms with a shocking event.

This picture of Balinese as both violent and tolerant, kind-hearted and cruel, religious and materialistic, inclusive and exclusive, is thus far more complex and ambivalent than the usual glossy images found in the guidebooks, which for the most part present the Balinese as a peace-loving, spiritually-developed people who assiduously perform their colourful religious ceremonies, make beautiful music, mount vivid dramatic performances, and care lovingly for their famed rice terraces. Almost relentlessly, tourists are told that Bali is the ‘last paradise’, the ‘land of a thousand temples’, and that ‘every Balinese is an artist’. Such images are myths, and like most myths they tell only a partial truth. Most visitors to Bali witness a cremation or a temple ceremony, and hear a gamelan orchestra or see the legong dance. But this aspect of Bali, without doubt alluring and seductive, belies the strains and tensions in the underbelly of Balinese society.

The truth is that Balinese are often in dispute with their relatives and neighbours, sometimes violently; men may beat their wives and squander money at cockfights; priests may be accused of exploiting their clients; rising expectations cannot be satisfied by the economy, thus leaving many young people unemployed, frustrated and marginalised; the commodification of Balinese culture leads to accusations of immorality and cosmic imbalance; and the smiling face is often a mask hiding turbulent emotions (Wikan 1990). If the guidebooks portray Bali as peaceful, harmonious and highly religious, this is only achieved by ignoring the riots which swept Bali in 1999 when Megawati Sukarnoputri was denied the presidency of the republic after winning most votes in the national elections, and by passing over in silence the slaughter of some 50,000 Balinese alleged to be communists during 1965–6 after the downfall of Sukarno and the rise to power of General Suharto, these killings themselves being the culmination of years of chaos and violence across Indonesia. Such a romantic myth is only possible if Bali’s wartorn precolonial history is ignored.

The image of Bali as a paradise, and of the Balinese as practising a colourful version of Hinduism in a sea of austere Islam, was generated in colonial times. It supplanted other earlier and different images, both theirs and ours (Vickers 1989), so it is important to explore how such a representation was produced, and what effects it has had. It is clear that portraying Bali in this particular way has enhanced its appeal as a destination for mass tourism. What is less clear are the myriad ways in which the Balinese have responded to such an image (Picard 1996), and to the waves of outside influence breaking on the shores of their island society. Conceiving of themselves more and more as Hindus, and thus distancing themselves increasingly from Muslims, has triggered struggles of ethnic identity leading to communal tensions. It has involved constructions of ‘otherness’ which have implications for cultural purity and boundedness at a time when anthropologists are at pains to point out that the notions of ‘a people’ and ‘a culture’ are to a large extent figments of the imagination. The progressive Hinduising of Bali over the last hundred years has produced massive and complex religious change, which has had ramifications throughout Balinese society. Moreover, if the advent of mass tourism has produced new ideas about what culture is for the Balinese and how it may be marketed, advertised and displayed, it has also had an enormous economic, political and environmental impact as the infrastructure creaks under the weight of traffic, water runs out, agricultural land is converted to hotels, art shops, golf courses and theme parks, plastic rubbish overlays lush countryside, inequality grows, and resistance movements targetting Jakartan and other foreign capitalists get into gear. The complex relationship between tourism, economy, culture and religion has become one of Bali’s most fascinating issues.

An interesting phenomenon emerged in connection with the many rituals which were performed subsequent to the Kuta bombing. Because the bomb killed many foreign tourists, especially from Australia, the relatives of the deceased were invited to attend the ceremonies. These rituals were of various kinds. Some were dedicated to the gods and ancestors to ask for peace, forgiveness, safety and prosperity. They were what might be called ecumenical, in the sense that Balinese Hindus asked those of other religious persuasions, primarily Muslims and Christians but also Jews, Buddhists and others, to pray together to help both the worshippers and the souls of the dead. These ceremonies of common worship served several purposes – healing the psychological wounds of the bereaved, reestablishing trusting relationships with westerners in the hope that tourism could be renewed more quickly, and demonstrating the tolerance of the Balinese towards those thought to be the perpetrators so that communal rioting and violence could be avoided. These were ceremonies in which friends and relatives could participate, and which they could appreciate and understand. Other rituals however, purificatory ceremonies known in Bali as caru, involved the sacrifice of animals – chickens, ducks, dogs, goats and even water buffalo. Some of these animals had their throats slit – the usual manner of sacrificial slaughter – and were then thrown in the sea. Others were turned into disembowelled carcasses; a live water buffalo with its legs bound was heaved into the ocean to drown. The bereaved and other visitors were invited to these ceremonies, but apparently were not given much explanation as to what was going on, and it has been reported that some were shocked and disgusted that innocent animal life could be sacrificed to atone for human death. While the Balinese probably understood what was going on, it must have been hard for the outsiders to come to terms with such apparent barbarism.

Reflections on these purificatory rituals were aired in an online discussion forum, The Bali Arts and Cultural Newsletter (see Darling 2003 for a summary). An initial message from Garrett Kam suggested that the bombing could be a springboard for further reform of ritual practice in Bali. Some Balinese already find the sacrificial slaughter of animals distasteful, believing it to be morally wrong and an affront to the deity, while others complain that such rituals are too expensive. Kam reported that an influential Brahmana priest, concerned about the killing of endangered turtles for ritual purposes, had proposed that it would be appropriate to use a drawing as a substitute for the real turtle. Similar solutions were suggested – using a part of an animal, its fur for example, to represent the whole animal. Such alternative procedures are endorsed by Balinese who have joined new Hindu movements of a devotionalist nature – Sathya Sai Baba, for example – which denounce cockfighting and the ritual slaughter of animals, and encourage vegetarianism. There followed further messages for and against the initial suggestion, and the discussion turned into one about cultural relativism. The debate was ended by the only contribution from a Balinese, Dégung Santikarma, who noted that the ‘ritual in Kuta may have been watched by a...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Illustrations
• Acknowledgements
• 1 Introduction
• 2 Colonialism, caste and the beginnings of tourism
• 3 Balinese character assassination?
• 4 The efficacy of ritual action and the transformation of religion
• 5 New religions of Bali
• 6 Controversies about Balinese hierarchy
• 7 Tourism, culture and identity
• References