‘The Act of Killing’ and Indonesia’s Dark Past Nobody Talks About

ARCHIVES 2013

By admin-s On Jan 24, 2013

In the gangsters’ role as the political bosses of North Sumatra (a province of 14 million people) they have continued to celebrate themselves as heroes, reminding the public of their role in the massacres, while continuing to threaten the survivors – and they have done so even as governors, senators, members of parliament, and, in the case of one prominent veteran of the 1965-66 genocide, as the perversely named, “Deputy Minister of Law and Human Rights”.

DIRECTOR’S STATEMENT

By Joshua Oppenheimer

http://theactofkilling.com/?page_id=52

Beginnings

In February 2004, I filmed a former death squad leader demonstrate how, in less than three months, he and his fellow killers slaughtered 10,500 alleged ‘communists’ in a single clearing by a river in North Sumatra. When he was finished with his explanation, he asked my sound recordist to take some snapshots of us together by the riverbank. He smiled broadly, gave a thumbs up in one photo, a victory sign in the next.

Two months later, other photos, this time of American soldiers smiling and giving the thumbs up while torturing and humiliating Iraqi prisoners, appeared in the news (Errol Morris later revealed these photographs to be more complex than they at first appear). The most unsettling thing about these images is not the violence they document, but rather what they suggest to us about how their participants wanted, in that moment, to be seen. And how they thought, in that moment, they would want to remember themselves. Moreover, performing, acting, posing appear to be part of the procedures of humiliation.

These photographs betray not so much the physical situation of abuse, but rather forensic evidence of the imagination involved in persecution. And they were very much in my mind when, one year later, I met Anwar Congo and the other leaders of Indonesia’s Pancasila Youth paramilitary movement.

Far away or close to home?

The differences between the situations I was filming in Indonesia and other situations of mass persecution may at first seem obvious. Unlike in Rwanda, South Africa or Germany, in Indonesia there have been no truth and reconciliation commissions, no trials, no memorials for victims. Instead, ever since committing their atrocities, the perpetrators and their protégés have run the country, insisting they be honoured as national heroes by a docile (and often terrified) public. But is this situation really so exceptional? At home (in the USA), the champions of torture, disappearance, and indefinite detention were in the highest positions of political power and, at the same time, busily tending to their legacy as the heroic saviours of western civilisation. That such narratives would be believed (despite all evidence to the contrary) suggests a failure of our collective imagination, while simultaneously revealing the power of storytelling in shaping how we see.

And that Anwar and his friends so admired American movies, American music, American clothing – all of this made the echoes more difficult to ignore, transforming what I was filming into a nightmarish allegory.

Filming with survivors

When I began developing The Act of Killing in 2005, I had already been filming for three years with survivors of the 1965-66 massacres. I had lived for a year in a village of survivors in the plantation belt outside Medan. I had become very close to several of the families there. During that time, Christine Cynn and I collaborated with a fledgling plantation workers’ union to make The Globalization Tapes, and began production on a forthcoming film about a family of survivors that begins to confront (with tremendous dignity and patience) the killers who murdered their son. Our efforts to record the survivors’ experiences – never before expressed publicly – took place in the shadow of their torturers, as well as the executioners who murdered their relatives – men who, like Anwar Congo, would boast about what they did.

Ironically, we faced the greatest danger when filming survivors. We’d encounter obstacle after obstacle. For instance, when we tried to film a scene in which former political prisoners rehearsed a Javanese ballad about their time in the concentration camps (describing how they provided forced labour for a British-owned plantation, and how every night some of their friends would be handed over to the death squads to be killed), we were interrupted by police seeking to arrest us. At other times, the management of London-Sumatra plantations interrupted the film’s shooting, “honouring” us by “inviting” us to a meeting at plantation headquarters. Or the village mayor would arrive with a military escort to tell us we didn’t have permission to film. Or an “NGO” focused on “rehabilitation for the victims of the 1965-66 killings” would turn up and declare that “this is our turf – the villagers here have paid us to protect them.” (When we later visited the NGO’s office, we discovered that the head of the NGO was none other than the area’s leading killer – and a friend of Anwar Congo’s – and the NGO’s staff seemed to be military intelligence officers.)

Not only did we feel unsafe filming the survivors, we worried for their safety. And the survivors couldn’t answer the question of how the killings were perpetrated.

Boastful killers

But the killers were more than willing to help and, when we filmed them boastfully describing their crimes against humanity, we met no resistance whatsoever. All doors were open. Local police would offer to escort us to sites of mass killing, saluting or engaging the killers in jocular banter, depending on their relationship and the killer’s rank. Military officers would even task soldiers with keeping curious onlookers at a distance, so that our sound recording wouldn’t be disturbed.

This bizarre situation was my second starting point for making The Act of Killing. And the question in mind was this: what does it mean to live in, and be governed by, a regime whose power rests on the performance of mass murder and its boastful public recounting, even as it intimidates survivors into silence. Again, there seemed to be a profound failure of the imagination.

Within Indonesia more generally, such openness about the killings might be exceptional. But in North Sumatra, it is standard operating procedure. For there, the army recruited its death squads from the ranks of gangsters. Gangsters’ power derives from being feared, and so the thugs ruling North Sumatra have trumpeted their role in the genocide ever since, framing it as heroic struggle, while all the time taking care to include grisly details that inspire a constant and undiminished disquiet, unease, even terror of possible recurrence. (In East Java and in Bali, the death squads were recruited from religious groups, while in Central Java and elsewhere they were members of the Indonesian special forces. Unlike gangsters, those groups’ power is not necessarily based on their being feared.)

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‘The Act of Killing’ and Indonesia’s Dark Past Nobody Talks About

I was 10 minutes late when I quietly sneaked in to a room crammed with people sitting tightly to their chairs. Their eyes fixed to the screen. I have been to many independent film screenings, but this one was not like any other.

There was no sign whatsoever to indicate that there’s a film screening inside. It was meant to be clandestine due to the nature of the film, entitled “The Act of Killing,” an award-winning documentary by British-based American filmmaker Joshua Oppenheimer.

From the invitation I received, it clearly said the screening is a closed event and not to be passed around. Prior to the screening, the attendees were asked not to spread the word on social media to avoid unwanted difficulties. “The Act of Killing” contains materials that are prone to disturb viewers, not to mention the historical facts that are still hard to accept to some people in Indonesia.

“The Act of Killing” follows the life of Anwar Congo, who unashamedly claimed himself as a fearsome executor in Medan, North Sumatera, following the alleged abortive coup by the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI).

As written in the history — or unwritten — the failed coup resulted in the witch-hunt against PKI members and alleged sympathizers. Many of them were captured, tortured and killed without legal trial. Once these alleged communists were detained, they would soon be handed to Anwar and his accomplices who would perform some of the gruesome executions ever imagined by mankind.

I’m not an expert in cinematography, but what is so interesting about “The Act of Killing,” apart from the obvious topic which remains untouched for a long time, is the way Anwar’s story being told.

Instead of the orthodox way of making documentary by combining interviews and footage, Oppenheimer creatively re-enacted what Anwar did in the past and shot them in the film. Anwar starred and acted in a film where he re-enacted all his mischievous deeds. It’s like making a documentary about Adolf Hitler and asked Der Fuhrer to act as himself in a staged scene.