When the regent of this coastal rice-growing region on the island of Java first toured China as part of an official delegation, his eyes went wide. Here was the future, he thought: skyscrapers and humming factories and grand highways.
Now, the regent, Masfuk, has begun trying to move his Indonesian region toward that future: he has mandated that all the schools in Lamongan, population 1.5 million, teach Mandarin to prepare the youth for doing business with China.
In classrooms here, girls in white head scarves and boys in button-down shirts are haltingly reciting from Chinese textbooks and scrawling characters on blackboards. The local government has held Mandarin speech contests the past two years.
“It’s like watching kung fu movies,” Masfuk said of the wonder of hearing students speaking Mandarin during the contests. Like many Indonesians, he uses just one name.
The policy goes against decades of anti-Chinese hostility in Indonesia, the world’s most populous Muslim country. But things are changing, and the Chinese government is sending hundreds of teachers to Indonesia, including one who has taught in Lamongan.
As China’s economic power grows, the study of Mandarin is surging around the world. Its rise in Indonesia may be one of the most telling examples of how China’s influence is overflowing even the steepest of barriers.
Leaders here accused China of supporting a failed Communist coup attempt in 1965, and former president Suharto banned the teaching of Chinese and all expressions of Chinese culture during his authoritarian rule, from 1967 to 1998. One Javanese man who now teaches Chinese in Lamongan had to study the language secretly in a church group in 1997.
Suharto’s policies contributed to tensions between various Indonesian ethnic groups and Chinese Indonesians, who make up less than 4 percent of the population but are a powerful presence in the economy. In 1998, populist rioting over economic grievances led to the killings of about 1,000 Chinese.
The riots resulted in Suharto’s resignation, and the ban on Chinese culture was lifted. The teaching of the language has gained momentum in recent years. One example: The State University of Surabaya, in Indonesia’s second largest city, will start offering Mandarin this year.
Many Indonesian students of Mandarin are ethnic Chinese eager to reconnect with their culture. But there are also students of other ethnicities, like those in Lamongan, who want to capitalize on growing economic ties between Indonesia and China. The two countries did US$28.4 billion of trade last year, and a free trade zone that took effect this year between China and Southeast Asian countries has already led to a huge trade surge, according to the Chinese Ministry of Commerce.
“I think Chinese is important for me to learn because I’ve heard of the free trade between China and Indonesia,” said a student in Lamongan, Andresya Bargiyyatul, 16. “So I think there must be Chinese businesspeople coming to Indonesia, and I want to communicate with them.”
That attitude is exactly what China has been seeking to cultivate by aggressively supporting the expansion of Mandarin programs here and in many other countries. President Hu Jintao (胡錦濤) has publicly called for China to exercise greater global influence through the spread of culture and diplomacy, or “soft power.” The Ministry of Education is one instrument in that campaign — last year, it sent 4,800 teachers to about 110 countries.
Last December, the Chinese Ministry of Education opened a Confucius Institute to teach Chinese in Jakarta, the Indonesian capital. The ministry operates 554 Confucius programs — what it calls institutes and classrooms — in 90 countries and regions. The US has the most, with 68.
The ministry sent about 380
teachers to Indonesia between 2004 and 2009, most on three-year contracts. But perhaps because of the recent anti-Chinese history, China prefers to play down any soft-power influence. In Jakarta, the Confucius Institute has done little to advertise itself, and it refused to grant this reporter an interview.
Among Indonesian officials, attitudes toward China’s growth are complicated. Indonesia has had a trade deficit with China in recent years, and some officials fear China’s colossal economic might. Then there are optimists like Masfuk.
“I’m looking at trade and investment between Lamongan and China, which has fantastic prospects for the future,” said Masfuk, grinning broadly in his office.
Masfuk began mandating the teaching of Chinese in 2007, two years after his trip to China. The policy has become much more entrenched this school year, which began in July of last year. Education officials here say about half of the hundreds of elementary, junior high and senior high schools in Lamongan now offer at least an extracurricular Chinese class. Many of the 148 junior and senior high schools, public and private, have mandatory classes. The main limitation on the policy is a lack of qualified teachers and Chinese textbooks, school officials say.
The policy has won Masfuk some national fame — he was interviewed by a popular Indonesian news network and has spoken to the minister of education.
“It’s a brave policy,” said Mu’ad, a local education department official. “No other regency has this policy. It’s a first for Indonesia.”
“We hope five to 10 years from now, there will be working-age students who will be able to speak Chinese,” he added. “If Chinese businesspeople or investors come to Lamongan, we hope our students will be able to explain Lamongan to them.”
Lamongan’s economy grew 5.8 percent last year. Lamongan is one of the top sources of rice, fish, corn, tobacco and soybeans in East Java. Some of those products could be exported to China, officials here say, and Lamongan could build factories for Chinese companies.
“Ever since we put in place this policy, there are more investors from China coming here to talk to me,” Masfuk said. He declined to give more details.
At Negeri 2, a senior high school with more than 1,000 students, Chinese became mandatory for all three grades starting this school year. On a recent morning, 30 students dressed in uniforms repeated after a teacher as he recited a phrase in Mandarin: “Every day, Monday through Friday, I attend school.”
The teacher, Achmad Tontowi, has a good command of grammar and written Chinese but struggles with pronunciation. He moved here three years ago, when Masfuk first put out a call for Chinese teachers. Tontowi began studying Chinese in 1997 after learning Japanese in college. The teaching of Chinese was still banned then, and Tontowi took part in secret classes at a church in Surabaya whose congregation was mostly ethnic Chinese.
“There were about 30 to 40 students,” he said. “Only four were ethnic Javanese; the rest were second- or third-generation Chinese.”
One sign of how far the Indonesian government has come is its willingness to post Chinese teachers across Indonesia. Officials in Lamongan asked the central government in Jakarta to send native speakers, and in November 2008 Wang Kairui arrived from China. He stayed for eight months before moving on to Aceh Province, and he has a continuing three-year contract with the Chinese Ministry of Education to teach in Indonesia.
“I think this is a really great decree,” Wang, 29, said of Masfuk’s policy in a telephone interview. “But they definitely have some difficulties ahead of them. They just don’t have enough teachers. They don’t have enough textbooks. These are all problems. It really depends on how serious they are.”
During the Japanese colonial era, remote mountain villages were almost exclusively populated by indigenous residents. Deep in the mountains of Chiayi County, however, was a settlement of Hakka families who braved the harsh living conditions and relative isolation to eke out a living processing camphor. As the industry declined, the village’s homes and offices were abandoned one by one, leaving us with a glimpse of a lifestyle that no longer exists. Even today, it takes between four and six hours to walk in to Baisyue Village (白雪村), and the village is so far up in the Chiayi mountains that it’s actually
The Taipei Times reported last week that housing transactions fell 15.3 percent last month, to under 20,000 units. However, the market boomed for the first eight months of the year, and observers expect it to show growth for the year as a whole. The fall was due to Central Bank intervention. “The negative impact of credit controls grew evident for the third straight month,” said Sinyi Realty Inc (信義房屋) research manager Tseng Ching-ter (曾敬德), according to the report. Central Bank Governor Yang Chin-long (楊金龍) in October said that the Central Bank implemented selective credit controls in September to cool the housing
These days, CJ Chen (陳崇仁) can be found driving a taxi in and around Hualien. As a way to earn a living, it’s not his first choice. He’d rather be taking tourists to the region’s attractions, but after a 7.4-magnitude earthquake struck the region on April 3, demand for driver-guides collapsed. In the eight months since the quake, the number of overseas tourists visiting Hualien has declined by “at least 90 percent, because most of them come for Taroko Gorge, not for the east coast or the East Longitudinal Valley,” he says. Chen estimates the drop in domestic sightseers after the
It’s a discombobulating experience, after a Lord of the Rings trilogy that was built, down to every frame and hobbit hair, for the big screen, to see something so comparatively minor, small-scaled and TV-sized as The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim. The film, set 183 years before the events of The Hobbit, is a return to Middle-earth that, despite some very earnest storytelling, never supplies much of an answer as to why, exactly, it exists. Rohirrim, which sounds a little like the sound an orc might make sneezing, is perhaps best understood as a placeholder for further cinematic