Читать книгу From Jail to Jail - Tan Malaka - Страница 11

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Tan Malaka concluded From Jail to Jail in March 1948. It seems strange that, although he developed a detailed analysis of the Renville Agreement, signed in January 1948, he virtually ignored the February 1948 change of government in which Hatta replaced Amir Sjarifuddin as prime minister.¹

Some observers have characterized this change of government as a Putsch and as the first step in the demolition of the PKI that culminated eight months later in Madiun.² From Tan Malaka’s perspective, however, the overriding question was still 100 percent merdeka and the means to obtain it. The fact that Amir negotiated Renville, and that Hatta continued to defend it, meant for Tan Malaka that the two governments were of similar character according to his fundamental criterion of perjuangan versus diplomasi. And so it would appear: the PKI, having thrown in its lot with diplomasi, would have little to call on in terms of trust and popular confidence when its partners in diplomasi turned against it.³

In early 1948 several ex-leaders of the Persatuan Perjuangan who were pro-Tan Malaka established the Gerakan Revolusi Rakyat (People’s Revolutionary Movement—GRR) as a front of parties opposing the Renville Agreement.⁴ One of the precipitating factors in the establishment of this front was the PKI’s shift in line during 1948 from all-out support of Renville and the Amir Sjarifuddin government that had brought it about to opposition to the Hatta government that was implementing it.⁵ Long-time supporters of perjuangan wanted to foil the PKI’s attempt to present itself as the leader of opposition to an agreement that was ever more clearly being revealed as a blow to the republic.

Some considerable shifting in the relationship between the PKI and the GRR was to take place during the month of August and up to the Madiun uprising in mid-September. Muso, former PKI leader from the 1920s, unexpectedly returned to Indonesia from Moscow in early August and immediately began to accentuate this leftward turn taken by the PKI against Renville and towards a policy of perjuangan.

The GRR’s main newspaper, Moerba, appeared on 14 August 1948 with a banner headline reading “Welcome Comrade Muso!” and maintained that Muso’s new fighting policy for the PKI proved that Tan Malaka and the GRR were following the correct communist line, as opposed to the soft, traitorous, and even “Trotskyist” line of the PKI. Whether they really expected Muso to join forces with themselves or whether it was a propaganda ploy is hard to say, but Muso had no such course of action in mind. He denounced Tan Malaka as a traitor and a Trotskyist since 1926,⁶ and he evidently tried to pry supporters away from the GRR, for as late as mid-September he was reported as meeting with Ibnu Parna of AKOMA (Angkatan Komunis Muda—Young Communist League), one of the GRR constituents.⁷

In an apparent attempt to fend off the growing influence of the PKI as dissatisfaction with Renville mounted and Muso’s popularity grew, the government released most of the 3 July detainees on 17 August; Tan Malaka was finally released on 16 September. Evidently the government was interested in developing an alternate left-wing pole to undermine the PKI. But polarization between the government and the PKI had gone too far, and armed clashes broke out in Solo and then Madiun.

On 19 September, Sukarno made a fiery radio address, attacking the PKI for “attempting to seize our beloved Indonesia” and asking the people to choose between him and Muso. Muso replied in kind, saying, “Sukarno-Hatta slaves of the Japanese and America! Traitors must die!”⁸

The PKI did not receive the support of the people. Quickly the Madiun uprising was isolated and then routed, the leaders escaping to the hills with troops in hot pursuit. Skirmishes continued until the Dutch attack in December, but the rebellion was crushed within days and a generalized anti-left sentiment dominated the government.

Tan Malaka’s autobiography ends before Madiun, but he introduces Volume III with a postscript concentrating on the affair. Characterizing it as a “repeat of the Prambanan Putsch of 1926,” Tan Malaka outlines the multiple errors made by the PKI in taking such an action. But while opposing the PKI, he also states his refusal “to be used as an instrument to crush Muso’s PKI by this government, which for two and a half years had let us rot in all kinds of jails” (Volume III, p. 13). He appears to accept unquestioningly the government’s view of Madiun as a conscious Putsch by the PKI and does not entertain the possibility of provocation or of precipitate action by second-echelon leaders.

The GRR and many of Tan Malaka’s followers were not so reluctant to take up arms against the PKI and were widely reported as participating in the fighting. Major Sabaruddin in particular, with whom Tan Malaka was later to become closely involved, led one of the principal assaults on the city of Madiun and pursued the fleeing PKI leaders into the mountain areas of East Java.⁹

After the government had recaptured Madiun and wiped out the PKI, Tan Malaka proceeded once again to voice his criticism of the government’s policies.¹⁰ His position had a certain attraction at that time, for a second Dutch attack on the republic was indeed becoming more likely as the Renville Agreement proved ever more unworkable. During October and November, the government’s antagonism to the growing strength of the anti-diplomasi forces was manifested in a swing from specific anti-PKI moves to a general opposition to leftists of any stripe. As early as 5 October the leadership council of the GRR issued a statement demanding the least possible curtailment of democratic rights in the anti-Madiun actions, more care in making arrests, and a reaffirmation of the right to existence of all ideologies based on democracy.¹¹

The following statement made by a republican representative in Jakarta reveals the government’s continued suspicion of Tan Malaka and the GRR: “These parties are supporting the government in its battle against the Muso communists. Their programme, however, is against the government. . . . These parties are against any form of negotiations with the Dutch.”¹²

Possibilities for Tan Malaka making a political comeback in this period were generated not only by the objective situation of increasing Dutch pressures, but also by a subjective factor: the elimination of his principal political opponents, those in the PKI. A large section of the PKI-dominated Front Demokrasi Rakyat (not to mention a number of PKI members themselves) had opposed the Madiun uprising and were probably quite open to joining a strong party oriented to pursuing the politics of perjuangan within a left-wing framework. On the other hand, it is obvious that the post-Madiun atmosphere was scarcely conducive to the construction of a left alternative to the republican leadership, and the vehemence of the PKI opposition and slander regarding Tan Malaka must have made it impossible for many former PKI members to consider joining forces with him under any circumstances.

On 3 October 1948 plans were announced for fusion of the principal parties constituting the GRR. The new party would include the Partai Rakyat (People’s Party), the largest element in the GRR and led by Maruto Nitimihardjo; the Partai Rakyat Jelata (Poor People’s Party), made up mainly of former militia fighters from West Java; and the Partai Buruh Merdeka (Merdeka Workers Party), recently established by Sjamsu Harya Udaya as a counter to the pro-PKI Partai Buruh Indonesia. In addition, AKOMA (Young Communist League), led by Ibnu Parna, and Partai Wanita Rakyat (People’s Women’s Party), led by Nyonya Sri Sulandari Mangunsarkoro, expressed their intention to join the new party provided their special status as sectional representatives could be maintained.¹³

Discussions on the nature and structure of the new party were held through the month of October. It was stressed that, while the party aimed to carry out the goals of the old Persatuan Perjuangan, the GRR would continue to exist as a broader front of parties, organizations, and militias within which the new party was to function as a disciplined element.¹⁴

The fusion took place on 7 November, the anniversary of the Russian revolution. The new party, announced as “anti-fascist, anticapitalist and anti-imperialist,” was called Partai Murba. Its office bearers were General Chairperson Sukarno, First Deputy Maruto Nitimihardjo, Second Deputy Sutan Dewanis, and Secretary-General Sjamsu Harya Udaya. Tan Malaka and Rustam Effendi (who had represented the Communist party of the Netherlands in the prewar Dutch parliament) were elected by the congress as “promoters” of the party, but were not given any official position within it.¹⁵

Partai Murba had both a minimum and maximum program. The Minimum Program followed that of the old Persatuan Perjuangan, with a few amendments to conform to current conditions. The Maximum Program was a completely new feature and charted a course towards construction of a socialist Indonesia. In structure, Partai Murba was to be democratic-centralist.¹⁶

There is some uncertainty about Tan Malaka’s precise role in the formation of Partai Murba. Most observers, at the time and subsequently, regarded it as “his” party, assuming that it was formed on his initiative.¹⁷ One of his close followers, Hasan Sastraatmadja, with whom he was staying after his release from prison, considers that Tan Malaka played a more passive role.¹⁸ Whether the party was formed on his initiative or not, the fact is that Tan Malaka strongly supported its formation, as can be seen from his articles of the time, which included a long explanation and defense of the Maximum Program.¹⁹

The Partai Murba did attract considerable support. On its formation it was estimated to have eighty thousand members, most of whom were originally members of Partai Rakyat.²⁰ Two newspapers, Moerba and Massa, were considered to be official organs of the party, while Kedaulatan Rakyat (the largest paper in Yogyakarta) and Merdeka (from Solo) were regarded as pro-Partai Murba publications.²¹

The first mass action staged by the Partai Murba was planned for 15 November, the second anniversary of the Sjahrir-Amir government’s announcement that the Linggajati Agreement had been installed, to be commemorated as a “day of shame.” All party branches were instructed to hold meetings and, if possible, mass demonstrations. The provisional military governors of Solo, Madiun, Semarang, and Pati refused to allow mass demonstrations but did permit meetings, to be attended only by invited guests. However, even these were prevented at the last minute. In Yogyakarta a mass meeting was held with AKOMA leader Ibnu Parna as one of the main speakers, but he was arrested on 21 November as a result of that speech.²²

Tensions between supporters of diplomasi and perjuangan rose as a result of reports that the republican government was prepared to “surrender key powers to the Dutch . . . during an interim period”²³ and specifically that the republic would agree that the Dutch had the right to dispatch troops to an area that they unilaterally decided was becoming unstable—a right that the republic had previously adamantly opposed conceding.

The perjuangan forces were outraged by this ominous development and called for a political front against negotiations. Principal parties to this development were the left wing of the PNI, the Partai Murba, and the Partai Sosialis Islam Indonesia (PSII-the Indonesian Islamic Socialist Party). The formation was known as the Kongres Rakyat Indonesia (Indonesian People’s Congress), and on 14 December it issued a call for a national congress to be held in Solo 24-26 December 1948.²⁴

In early December the news agency Aneta reported mounting unrest and commented on the circulation of leaflets predicting that the revolution would break forth in greater intensity on 1 January 1949. Specifically it reported, “2 km from Probolinggo a field police went into action against the notorious Patjar Merah gang on Monday evening. . . .”²⁵

The seriousness with which this challenge to the government was regarded in mid-December can be gauged by the following quotation from a liberal Dutch newspaper. Commenting on the fact that foreign countries had supported Hatta because he had proved he could hold his own against communism, Algemeen Handelsblad added, “They forget, however, that Hatta is under the domination of Tan Malaka’s Trotskyist radical front, which is but communism under a different name.”²⁶

Throughout October and November, Tan Malaka and the Partai Murba had stressed the likelihood that the Dutch would launch a second attack, expected around 20 November.²⁷ The government was criticized for maintaining a position of absolute confidence in the Dutch, believing that they would not attack while negotiations were in progress.

Tan Malaka was not the only person to articulate these views. In particular, a number of army commanders had long dissociated themselves from the various governments’ policies of diplomasi, arguing, especially in the 1945-1946 period, for more reliance on perjuangan and popular resistance. Indeed, as shown in Volume III of the autobiography, even Supreme Commander General Sudirman had been a militant supporter of the Persatuan Perjuangan. (Colonel A. H. Nasution provides considerable information on the perjuangan perspectives of the army high command in his history of the revolution, Sekitar perang Kemerdekaan Indonesia.)

While continuing the negotiations right up until the end, the government did make some preparations for the contingency of a second Dutch attack. In November, Minister of Finance Sjafruddin Prawiranegara was dispatched to Bukit Tinggi, West Sumatra, carrying with him the authority to head the republican government from there, should the president and vice president be unable to function.²⁸ (Although the surat warisan [testament] had not formally been revoked, no one regarded it as still in effect in 1948.)²⁹ Further, several days before the actual attack, the republican representative in Washington, Dr. Sumitro Djojohadikusumo, was quoted by the Dutch newspaper Algemeen Handelsblad as saying that the republic was prepared to establish a government-in-exile in the event of an attack.³⁰

Tan Malaka decided to leave Yogyakarta, both in the interest of self-defense and of following his own prescription to build up a resistance and an infrastructure outside the capital. He had been pressed, ever since he had been released from jail in September, to retreat to the security of West Java under the protection of the Lasykar Rakyat Jawa Barat (West Java People’s Militia), which had long been one of the strongest supporters of his policies of perjuangan.³¹ Pressures came from many sides, however, and eventually he decided to go to East Java—to the Solo River Valley, which he had identified in 1924 as the center of the revolution, necessary for its survival.³² On 12 November he left Tugu station, Yogyakarta, bound for Kediri. He was accompanied by thirty-five guerrilla fighters—twenty from the Lasykar Rakyat Jawa Barat and fifteen from the Barisan Banteng (Wild Buffalo Force).³³ The group was escorted by his old PARI comrade, Djamaluddin Tamim, and Abdul Muluk Djalil from West Java, who had been close to him since September 1945. The group’s military commander was Captain Dimin, from Serang, West Java. They set up headquarters in Kediri and began discussing coordination of regular and irregular troops sympathetic to their politics.³⁴

This small group, which considered itself a personal bodyguard for Tan Malaka, was attached to Battalion 38/Sabaruddin, which had on 25 October 1948 been made part of the Kediri-based Brigade S/Surachmad of the East Java Brawijaya Division.³⁵ Evidently, it was this offer of protection by a part of the regular military forces that swayed Tan Malaka in deciding exactly where to go on leaving Yogyakarta. Sabaruddin, an Acehnese who had grown up in East Java, had a reputation for ferocity, some say brutality. Known as “the lion of Sidoarjo” in the early days of the revolution, he was dismissed from the military police in early 1946 for insubordination. He was readmitted, together with his militia, into the regular army only after “proving himself” in the rout of Madiun.³⁶ One source has it that he met Tan Malaka in 1946 in Wirogunan jail, Yogyakarta,³⁷ while others say they met only in the period leading up to the foundation congress of Partai Murba.³⁸ In any event, Sabaruddin apparently admired Tan Malaka, agreed with his politics of perjuangan, and offered him protection. On Tan Malaka’s part, while association with such a man may not have been politically advantageous, after the experience of the 1946 arrests and in the certainty of a Dutch attack, one can imagine that he would have given military security a high priority. Ironically, it may well have been this association with Sabaruddin that brought about his death.

On Tan Malaka’s initiative, a conference was held on 14 December in Blitar, East Java, in which leaders of the various pro-perjuangan militias discussed coordination of resistance to the anticipated Dutch attack and established a body known as the GPP (Gabungan Pembela Proklamasi-Group in Defense of the Proclamation; after the Dutch attack it was renamed Gerilya Pembela Proklamasi—Guerrillas in Defense of the Proclamation).³⁹ A number of militias were involved, including “Sabaruddin’s battalion, Isman’s TRIP, Warouw’s 16th Brigade, Abdullah’s TLRI. Tan Malaka was the GPP’s nominal leader, and others involved included Abidin Effendi, Sjamsu Harya Udaya, and Djokosutopo.”⁴⁰ A sympathetic biographical sketch of Tan Malaka describes the GPP as “the strongest and best organised resistance force facing the Dutch in East Java. At that time the GPP had possession of a radio transmitter, but this instrument was later sabotaged and destroyed by another armed group.”⁴¹

Djamaluddin Tamim relates that he was dispatched by the conference to seek parts for a printing press that the GPP was to set up in Blitar. On 18 December he was making his way to Yogyakarta by train. Along the route the train was stopped by streams of refugees heading out of Yogyakarta—the Dutch had attacked.⁴²

The Dutch concentrated their initial attack on the airport, starting at about 5:30 A.M. Almost the entire government leadership was taken into custody when the troops entered the city proper and occupied the palace in the midafternoon. The government’s disarray and unpreparedness are described most graphically in the first-hand report of Deputy Chief-of-Staff T. B. Simatupang.⁴³ The ministers gathered at the palace at about 10:00 A.M. to draft speeches to the population urging resistance, but they did not manage to broadcast these addresses before the radio station was seized by the advancing Dutch.⁴⁴ The government did send a message to Sjafruddin Prawiranegara in Bukit Tinggi, formally handing over governmental power, but this message was apparently never received. Sjafruddin established the emergency government on his own initiative when he heard of the Dutch seizure of the main government.⁴⁵ Simatupang states that government leaders did discuss the possibility of fleeing Yogyakarta with the army, but that Sukarno adamantly opposed such a move, convinced they could not hold out for long and would soon be captured. He held the view, which he defended also after the event, that a president under Dutch arrest was of greater propaganda value than a guerrilla leader in the jungle.⁴⁶ Whatever the merits of this strategy, it did not preclude the proper organization of the rest of the government to carry on in his absence and under occupation of the capital.

Five ministers did decide to join the guerrilla troops, and they managed to hold out and establish the rudiments of a civil administration, which functioned throughout the occupation in the immediate vicinity of Yogyakarta. At first they considered themselves to be the emergency government but, on hearing of Sjafruddin’s government and the decisions of the final cabinet meeting, they abandoned that role and settled on functioning as the regional commissariat when finally, in May 1949, they established contact with Sjafruddin.⁴⁷

Even the military evacuation of the capital was conducted in a haphazard and ad hoc manner. Simatupang, who was at the negotiation site of Kaliurang at the time of the attack, did not know where army headquarters had moved themselves and was not able to establish contact with the army command until 12 January. No radio link was made with the emergency government on Sumatra until the end of January.⁴⁸

It was under such circumstances, with a virtual collapse of the republican government in the face of the long-expected Dutch attack, that Tan Malaka made a speech on Radio Kediri on 21 December 1948. While the alleged contents of the speech were used, both at the time and subsequently, by his opponents as another example of his attempting to seize power,⁴⁹ most of the evidence suggests otherwise. Prorepublican newspapers are scarce from this period when the capital was occupied and the Dutch led forays into other republican-held territory, and I have found no contemporary report of the speech from the republican side. However, the U.S. consul, Charles A. Livengood, quoted a press statement from the republican delegation in Jakarta in a report transmitted to Washington on 23 December 1948:

Tan Malaka strongly condemned the policy of negotiations pursued respectively by Sjahrir—resulting in the conclusion of the Linggardjati Agreement which eventually led to colonial war I which started on July 21, 1947; by Sjarifuddin—of which the outcome was the Renville Agreement—and by Hatta who continued Amir’s inheritance and the ultimate result of which was colonial war II.

He further urged the Indonesian people always to keep in mind the Independence Proclamation of August 17, 1945, and the sacrifices of lives and properties given by the Indonesian people for that purpose. “For that reason, we must carry on the struggle,” thus said Tan Malaka.

In conclusion, Tan Malaka gave the following advices [sic]:

(1) To annul all inventions as Linggardjati, Renville and Hatta’s aide memoire.

(2) To root out all puppet states created by the Dutch with the help of their henchmen.

(3) To recapture every patch of ground occupied by the enemy’s troops.

(4) To seize all foreign property.

(5) To restore self-confidence and annihilate all fifth columnists.

(6) To ignore all truce regulations.

(7) To reject any negotiations if not based on complete independence as proclaimed on August 17, 1945.

(8) To unify all parties and fighting organizations and maintain the people’s army.⁵⁰

According to Moh. Padang, of Sabaruddin’s Battalion 38, who was apparently there at the time, Rustam Effendi proposed the declaration of a Socialist Republic of Indonesia with Tan Malaka as president, but Tan Malaka refused, holding to the political line of unity around basic perjuangan demands until independence was truly won.⁵¹

Even after this second Dutch attack, the diplomasi line still prevailed among official republican representatives, who hoped that international pressure and intervention of the United Nations would push back the Dutch. It seems, however, that the Dutch, the federalists, and the republican representatives outside Indonesia alike regarded the diplomasi position as vulnerable to the militant perjuangan line advanced by someone like Tan Malaka.

Sin Po reported that the internment of the republican leaders had resulted in a decline of support for the conservatives and in increased support for leftists who opposed negotiations.⁵² And the pro-federalist newspaper Warta Indonesia editorialized as follows:

recalling the fact that Tan Malaka has proclaimed himself leader of the Indonesian people, and that the communists are now paramount in the Republic, is this the right moment to call for a cease-fire? To obey this order would mean to give a new opportunity to the destructive elements who have always threatened all attempts to come to an understanding with the Netherlands. It means not only backing Tan Malaka and his communist following, but preparing most effectively for the undoing of Indonesia.⁵³

And Soedjatmoko, deputy leader of the republican mission to the United Nations, was reported as saying on 14 January 1949 that “failure of a speedy settlement of the Indonesian problem would open possibilities for Trotzky to the Indonesian Tan Malaka ‘to exploit once again the fundamental longings of the Indonesian peoples for freedom.’”⁵⁴

Through the early months of the Dutch occupation of the republic, regular military reports referred to continuing action by “terrorists” and “armed groups” in Central and especially East Java, specifying which areas and roads were still “unsafe.”

Besides these military reports of activity around Kediri, which could possibly have referred to Tan Malaka and his followers, there is little contemporary documentation of his activities after the Dutch attack. A reconstruction of his movements after leaving Yogyakarta on 12 November up until his death comes, of necessity, mainly from later recollection of the participants.

The Dutch occupied Kediri on Christmas Day, 1948.⁵⁵ Tan Malaka and Sabaruddin, together with many other republican militias, retreated to the jungles and remote areas, from which they intended to stage assaults on Dutch positions. Sabaruddin’s headquarters were, evidently, maintained at Blimbing in the Kediri district, although parts of the battalion were frequently on the move in the area on operations.⁵⁶

Though reports of guerrilla actions led by Tan Malaka continued to appear at least up to the end of 1949, during February such reports were counterbalanced by rumors that he had been killed. While some have it that he was the victim of Dutch bullets, and even that he was killed by remnants of the PKI seeking revenge for his position on Madiun, the evidence overwhelmingly suggests that he was killed by republican troops.⁵⁷

The precise date and place of his death and the exact identity of his killers vary in these reports, but their general thrust is fairly consistent. In the period after the Dutch advance into East Java, Tan Malaka and his followers antagonized authorities within the East Java Brawijaya Division of the army by their continued attacks on the policies pursued by all previous republican governments and by their attempts to gain support for these ideas within the ranks of the armed forces. Accordingly, an attack was mounted by official or semi-official troops on the headquarters of Sabaruddin’s Battalion 38.⁵⁸ In the melee or at some later date, Tan Malaka and Sabaruddin managed to escape, but Tan Malaka was recaptured and executed.

Reports of this nature began to reach Djamaluddin Tamim in March 1949. Three members of the Barisan Banteng who had gone with Djamaluddin and Tan Malaka to Kediri in November 1948 met Djamaluddin in East Java at the end of March 1949 and reported on the attack on Sabaruddin’s headquarters and their subsequent escape.⁵⁹ Further investigations in the area brought word from both Sjamsu Harya Udaya and from Sabaruddin himself that Tan Malaka had not been seen since the attack.⁶⁰ In May 1949 the Partai Murba’s leadership council discussed the question and decided to send Sudijono Djojoprajitno to travel through the area and find out what he could concerning the attack and Tan Malaka’s fate.⁶¹

At the same time that the Partai Murba was starting to investigate the possibility of Tan Malaka’s death, reports started appearing in the press to the effect that he had been killed. On 14 May the Malang Post is reported to have said that he was killed some ten days previously in the area of Nganjuk (East Java).⁶² On 7 June the head of republican intelligence, Lieutenant General Z. Loebis, reporting on the overall situation in Java and Sumatra, included a summary of reports on Tan Malaka’s death. His report identifies Surachmad, commander of the Kediri Sub-Territorium Militer (STM), as the executioner.⁶³

Also on 7 June 1949, the Indonesia Merdeka (Independent Indonesia) radio transmitter in North Sumatra is reported as having relayed news from the New Delhi Information Office of the Republic that General Sungkono (commander of the Brawijaya Division) had verified newspaper reports that Tan Malaka had been shot on his orders in the Blitar area of East Java on 16 April.⁶⁴ Roeslan Abdulgani, secretary-general of the Information Ministry, on 24 June repeated the report that Tan Malaka had been shot on Sungkono’s orders.⁶⁵

Through June and July other reports emerged substantiating this version of events, although the exact date and place vary, and Brigade Commander Jonosewojo and the Kediri Military Police Mobile Brigade are also said to have been the executioners.

According to Djamaluddin Tamim, an interview with General Sungkono was published on 9 September 1949 in the Yogyakarta newspaper Kedaulatan Rakyat.⁶⁶ Sungkono is quoted as saying, “Yes, the leader Tan Malaka was shot, but I wasn’t the one who ordered his execution.” Djamaluddin tried to pursue the matter with Sungkono but, after being briefed by Sukarno, the general refused comment. Djamaluddin states that the journalist Samawi was asked by the regional governor to retract the article, but he stood by his story.

In 1972 I attempted to follow up these stories of Tan Malaka’s death. Paramita Abdurrachman recalled a discussion she had in 1949 with an intelligence officer from the Siliwangi (West Java) Division, who said that Tan Malaka was shot by Brigade 16 (led by Surachmad) of the Brawijaya Division on orders from above.⁶⁷ Sungkono, now retired, denied knowing anything at all about Tan Malaka’s death.⁶⁸ It is impossible to imagine that the commander of the Brawijaya Division would not have at least received a report on the incident, even if he were not personally involved, and so his blanket denial is no real counter to the other evidence, both contemporary and in retrospect. In 1972 Mohammad Hatta gave the following account: “The Dutch attacked . . . and . . . Tan Malaka was fighting on his own principles, not joining in, not opposing the Dutch but rather creating confusion. This was the explanation from Sungkono, the commander for East Java. Because of this, he said, he ordered Tan Malaka to be shot.”⁶⁹

The most detailed account of the events surrounding Tan Malaka’s death did not emerge until 1959, when Sukatma, who had been part of Tan Malaka’s bodyguard in Blimbing, came to Djamaluddin’s house in Jakarta and narrated his recollection. This account substantiated the bare details uncovered in the Partai Murba investigation of 1949 and has been accepted by the party as accurate.⁷⁰ Sukatma was in the group captured at Blimbing, but he managed to escape. Following the events, he changed his name and rejoined the army. I was able to find him in Jakarta in 1972 and to tape an interview with him, which corresponds to the story related by Djamaluddin following the meeting with Sukatma in 1959.⁷¹

I conclude this biographical sketch with Sukatma’s story. Some of its details conflict with other accounts, but this is the most detailed, and is purportedly from an eyewitness to the events. I have no hard evidence that the Sukatma I spoke to in 1972 is the same individual who came to see Djamaluddin Tamim in 1959, nor that he was the survivor of the 1949 killings. But his story tallies with that reported by Djamaluddin of the 1959 meeting, and also with other accounts of the attack. Further, he was recognized by people who had been present at the Sabaruddin headquarters in the days preceding the attack. I have no reason to suspect that the story is a fabrication.

Sukatma did not see Tan Malaka killed. But there are no confirmed reports of his appearance after he was taken away from Sukatma and the other guards. One can only agree with Sabaruddin’s brother: “If they killed the guards, how much more likely are they to have killed the one being guarded.”⁷²

Sukatma was a Sundanese from Banten, West Java, who had fought in the Lasykar Rakyat Jawa Barat. In 1946 he moved to East Java and joined the Terpedo Berjiwa militia under the leadership of Captain Hanafi, based in Kepanjen.⁷³ Sukatma reports that after the confusion surrounding the Dutch attack, he fled to Kediri and there met up with Captain Dimin, who had been his section commander in the Terpedo Berjiwa. Dimin pressed Sukatma into joining his force again and, after a week or so in and around Kediri, took him to Blimbing.⁷⁴ He was asked to take the assignment of bodyguard to the Oud Heer (Old Man) Tan Malaka.

The first night in Blimbing, Sukatma accompanied Tan Malaka to a wayang kulit (shadow play) performance in a neighboring village, and they returned to Blimbing at about 4:00 A.M. The following day nothing of particular interest took place, and Sukatma familiarized himself with the headquarters and the people there. About twenty people were on duty at the headquarters, and at night they were billeted in the houses of the village, two or four per house. Sukatma remained in a house with Tan Malaka.

He was awakened about 4:30 A.M. to find himself surrounded by bayonet-bearing soldiers wearing the emblem of the Macan Kerah (fighting tiger).⁷⁵ They had apparently overcome the guards and appropriated weapons from the headquarters. Sukatma was ordered to squat on the floor, and it was then that he saw they had seized Tan Malaka from the back room and were guarding him closely. Some twenty people were rounded up and disarmed and then marched out of Blimbing at about 6:30 A.M.

Unaccountably, the Macan Kerah troops abandoned them at a certain crossroads about two kilometers from Blimbing. Shortly afterwards Sabaruddin arrived on the scene, dishevelled and disarmed; he too had been routed by the Macan Kerah while on operations. They decided to flee up towards the mountains, fearing to return to the headquarters. At about 10:30 A.M. they were resting and cooking corn when they heard shots and people shouting. In the confusion and in mists that were hanging heavy about them, the group split up. Sukatma made it his duty to stay close by Tan Malaka, and they ended up with three others of the guard: Teguh, Pak Ali, and Captain Dimin. Ironically, it appears that the people coming after them through the jungle were remnants of Sabaruddin’s own battalion, and not the Macan Kerah.

The group of five walked through the mountainous jungle for two days and nights. Tan Malaka, of long-standing poor health, found the going rough and developed a limp in his right leg. They moved down from the jungle to the rice fields below. At about four o’clock one afternoon they saw a main road and a food stand about a kilometer and a half away. Sukatma was ordered to go and buy some food. Initially he refused, fearing to arouse suspicion. Their torn and dirty cotton trousers made it obvious that they were on the run. However, remembering his duty as a soldier, he obeyed orders and headed for the food stand, bringing back six pieces of fried banana. Captain Dimin ordered him to return for more. On doing so, Sukatma was accosted by a group claiming to be from the Macan Kerah.

“Where are your friends?” they asked. I had no choice; they had guns on me. I showed them the way, and they took all five of us back to the food stand and then to a house in Parangan where we were held for the moment. They asked us not a single question. At about 7:15 P.M. Tan Malaka asked me to find him a masseur, as his right leg was in pain.

Around eleven or twelve o’clock a platoon or so of soldiers arrived at the house. Four of them entered, behaving respectfully as if to their superiors. “Bapak, we have been ordered to take you away tonight.”⁷⁶ And I heard Tan Malaka reply, “If you’re going to take me away and kill me, get an authorization or ask permission from President Sukarno,” and I saw his hands shaking. “We’re only following orders,” they replied, and they took him outside, where they had a litter prepared for him, for they knew that we had carried him through the rice fields. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” said Tan Malaka. I tried to see which way they were taking him, but I was pushed away from the door. I don’t know where they took him; whether they killed him and, if so, what they used to do it with; whether they jailed him and, if so, where. I know nothing more after we were parted that night.

The next morning the four remaining members of the group were taken to Bogem. At dawn the following day they were moved again, this time to a small village alongside the Brantas River about a kilometer away from Bogem. They were placed together in a house, and then three of them—Captain Dimin, Pak Ali, and Sukatma—were moved to another house, leaving Teguh behind. Sukatma had just sat down on a bamboo cot when he heard the noise of a Johnson machine gun. All three were afraid it might be enemy (Dutch) troops about to capture them.

But someone said, “Don’t be afraid. It’s normal here. That’s the Dutch firing on the other side of the river.” I was calm again. About five minutes later someone came and took all three of us back to the other house. Teguh was no longer there. From outside we heard the order: “One of you come out.” Just like that. The one that went was Captain Dimin. We heard him cry out for help, begging for mercy. Then we heard words of abuse and the sounds of stabbing—tjok, tjok, tjok—dragging, then no more voices, only moans—aduh, aduh. . . . And then there was the sound of gunfire again. They came back. “One of you come out.” This time it was Pak Ali. He didn’t resist at all. They walked away, and then . . . more gunfire. Now I was the only one left. I remember it was about 5:15 or 5:30 in the morning.

There were people with ropes, clubs, hoes. I thought to myself, “If they tie me up I shall surely die. Just let them not tie me.” Again I heard the order, “One of you come out.” I didn’t want to die. I prayed to God not to let me die. Not because I had faith, but in the hope that God wouldn’t let me die just like that. “Move along.” “Yes, I’m coming. I don’t have to be shoved. I give in. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” I was taken to the edge of the river. I looked around. Yes, it was indeed a Johnson. It was braced against a small coconut palm so as not to shift. “Kneel,” they ordered. And with that I jumped into the river. I jumped as though I had been thrown, three-quarters of the way across the river. As I jumped I was hit—by two bullets in the back of my head and three in my bottom. I felt my head. It was not slippery. That meant there was no blood. Only a small wound. I was not going to die. I went underwater again. As I did so, I noticed they were coming after me in boats. I don’t know how many of them there were. But the first boat overturned, and the second had to help them. So I managed to get away. I was near a village, and I hid amongst the sago palms.