of his rantau power into the Alam. Concurrent Indonesian political developments had to be the decisive, successful Revolution. Thus, his second return was, in his view, the point at which the trajectory of Indonesian history and the course of his own life would intersect and join in the ultimate thrust of Madilog values into Alam—the thrust which would bring the epochal struggle for a Free and Socialist Indonesia to its victorious conclusion. (p. 38)
Throughout Tan Malaka’s writings, in spite of the Marxist-Leninist terminology used, it is the power of ideas to stimulate social progress that is repeatedly stressed, rather than the dynamic force of the class struggle. (p. 18)
Mrázek’s discussion of the persistence of traditional thought patterns and values in Tan Malaka’s Weltanschauung is indeed valuable, and would be an important section of a rounded biography of this “political personality.” But, in my view, it is a distortion to dismiss the Marxist-Leninist terminology Tan Malaka chooses to use in interpreting the world around him and presenting his Weltanschauung, but to accept every example of idealist imagery as representing the “real” Tan Malaka. Mrázek is extremely selective in choosing which parts of Tan Malaka’s “structure of experience” determined his “political personality”—heavily emphasizing Tan Malaka’s life as a teenager in Minangkabau while downplaying the effect of the years spent as a communist and political activist. Mrázek ends up doing precisely what he cautions against: in a somewhat Orientalist and patronizing approach he presents Tan Malaka as quaint, full of contradictions, in short, a “hybrid” or “marginal man.”
In 1973, Suharsono Isnomo submitted a sarjana ilmu politik (B.A. thesis in politics) to the University of Indonesia on Tan Malaka’s political struggle—a most unusual topic for New Order Indonesia. Isnomo’s particular theme was to trace back to Tan Malaka the idea of unity of various political currents as advocated by Sukarno and implemented in the concept of Nasakom (nationalism, religion, and communism). Isnomo sees Tan Malaka as the progenitor of this idea in Indonesian politics since 1921 when he advocated unity between the PKI and Sarekat Islam, and as its principal advocate through the 1945 period when he argued against a proliferation of parties and founded the Persatuan Perjuangan as a united front to forge unity among the disparate parties, groups, and militias.
I disagree with Isnomo’s view of Tan Malaka and Sukarno as having one and the same perspective on unity and on the one-party state. Although the desire for unity was most certainly a dominant strand in the thought of both leaders, there is an important distinction between the permanent unity across conflicting class lines advocated by Sukarno, and the unity of forces in the struggle for independence (united front) of Tan Malaka. I discuss the idea of unity of forces below in the context of Tan Malaka’s concept of murba and its distinction from Sukarno’s marhaen.72
Isnomo ascribes Tan Malaka’s failure principally to his underestimation of the popularity of Sukarno-Hatta, and consequent overconfidence in challenging them, and to a lack of tactical flexibility in presenting his “hard” Minimum Program without any stages. He adds that the Minimum Program of 1946 was essentially that which Tan Malaka developed in 1924, that it resembled Mao Tse Tung’s 1937 program for the Chinese Communist party. In attempting to apply it in Indonesia, Tan Malaka ignored his own theories of the need for revolutionaries to work first from their own local conditions (p. 159). It is unfortunate that Isnomo did not go on to elaborate further as to how the Minimum Program was inappropriate to Indonesian conditions in 1946, and to be more specific on the analogy with the 1937 CCP program.73
While Isnomo perpetuates many of the biases originated by George Kahin, upon whom he relies as a primary source for the revolutionary period, his presentation is exceptional in its portrayal of Tan Malaka as a serious and committed revolutionary whose ideas deserve study and scrutiny. In particular, his assessment of PARI as “a connecting link and a renewal of the struggle to overthrow Dutch colonial oppression” (p. 43) breaks away from the usual dismissal of PARI’s significance and assertion of Tan Malaka’s sabotage of the 1926 uprising.
Isnomo’s concern to rehabilitate Tan Malaka and the Partai Murba of necessity leads him to overemphasize similarities with Sukarno’s ideas, and at the same time to raise questions as to Tan Malaka’s commitment to certain aspects of Marxism (in particular, historical materialism and atheism). He concludes that the Partai Murba was “not a dangerous Marxist Party like the PKI” (p. 163).
In this way Isnomo echoes others, erstwhile Tan Malaka supporters, who choose to define him as a nationalist.74 The rationale for so doing is clear: it is difficult to speak well of a Marxist, of a communist, or even of a socialist under today’s New Order ideology. It is therefore advisable to redefine an individual in noncommunist, if not anticommunist, terms if one wishes to continue expressing support for that person or the person’s ideas, or to admit having done so in the past. Tan Malaka’s ardent and undisputed nationalism, so clearly revealed throughout the text of his autobiography, as well as the life it relates, in his long struggle for “100 percent merdeka,” gives ample scope for such an interpretation. It is given added weight by President Sukarno’s investiture of Tan Malaka as “Hero of National Independence” in 1963.75 “Nationalist” is, however, an inadequate label, leaving aside Tan Malaka’s equally strong commitment to socialism.
Harry Poeze’s book was presented in 1976 for his doctoral dissertation at the University of Amsterdam. It is, in fact, the only work of substance to focus exclusively on Tan Malaka, and its 605 pages present a wealth of hitherto unavailable data, principally from the Dutch archives. Meticulously researched, it is valuable also for the appendixes containing Tan Malaka’s early writings and excerpts from the archives. It is chronologically arranged and, as the title indicates, follows Tan Malaka’s life up to 1945 with Indonesia’s proclamation of independence. Poeze has succeeded most notably in illuminating the period 1927-1933, where he reconstructs the activities of PARI. Poeze even succeeded in deciphering the code used by PARI that baffled Dutch intelligence.
The book serves more as a compendium of every known fact on Tan Malaka for this period—the classic Dutch bronnenpublicatie—than as an analytic biography. Poeze does not begin to draw an assessment of Tan Malaka’s place in history, nor to place him in political perspective. Weighed down by details, even the quotations from From Jail to Jail seem to lose their vibrancy and color. The detached academic observer gives no clue as to his own feelings or political judgment on the subject of his biography, and the decision to stop in 1945 makes an overall picture impossible to achieve.
Alfian’s “quiet revolutionary” comes closest to my perspective on Tan Malaka. His essay was written as one of a series of biographical sketches of Indonesian political leaders published in Prisma in 1977 and later in a book entitled Manusia dalam kemelut sejarah (1978). Alfian relies greatly on Poeze, Mrázek, and Anderson for information, but presents his own assessment, in which Tan Malaka is seen as an independent and creative thinker, political activist, and theoretician—above all “his own master.”
In essence Tan Malaka’s ideas and struggle were directed towards the objective of freeing his nation, while at the same time totally and drastically restructuring it—politically, economically, socially, and culturally. (p. 151)
His admission that he accepted bolshevism in theory, and did not reject the possibility of using physical force to achieve independence can perhaps be seen as a consistent and responsible position, given his view of Marxism as a guide to revolution, not as a dogma. If one may conclude, then, Tan Malaka was in the true sense of the word consistent as a revolutionary. A revolutionary who accepted Marxism as a guide, but held nationalism even deeper in his heart. (p. 155)
Alfian argues strongly that Tan Malaka was not guilty of involvement or masterminding either the Sjahrir kidnapping or the 3 July Affair, even though those who acted “may well have been stimulated by Tan Malaka’s vision” (p. 169). As to his death, Alfian cries out,
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