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Hybridity 2
Hybridity 2
Hybridity 2
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South East Asia Research
Robert Shepherd
Proposing paradise
Bali, the 'Isles of Temples and Dances', one of the more frequently used meta
phors, until now potentially undiscovered, is destined to be awakened and
integrated into the network of curiosities on a tourist-agent's travelog. (Inter
national Tourism Consultants, 1969:2)
The Malay word seni translates as both 'fine' and 'art'; patung refers to stonework
and sculpture, pahat to a chisel, used in this context to refer to both wood carving
and metalwork. Kesenian translates as 'the science of art', asli as 'original'. The
term kesenian asli ('the original science of art') refers here to dance, music, and
wayang kulit. While kerajinan [root rajin, 'industrious'] rakyat is usually translated
as 'handicrafts'; it refers specifically to crafts produced by a specific ethnic group or
people [rakyat]. It is used quite differently from the term kerajinan tangan (literally
'hand'), also translated as 'handicrafts', but used to refer to crafts not tied to a spe
cific people. The difference in these terms rests on who can do what: anyone can
learn to make kerajinan tangan, but only authentic people [rakyat] are deemed able
to make kerajinan rakyat.
in 1969 and recommended in its 1971 report simply confirmed the star
assumptions of this project as set out in the Indonesian governm
initial terms of reference - in particular, that a supra-organizatio
Bali Tourism Development Authority) could manage the developm
of tourism on the island and regulate Balinese culture so as to pro
from degradation.
mind the stated desire to protect Balinese culture from contact with tour
ism, where should those 9,500 first-class hotel rooms be built, and what
infrastructure would be needed to support this accommodation (1:11)? Of
interest here are questions that go unasked in this study. Were Balinese
residents receptive to tourism? Did residents feel a need to protect their
culture from tourism? Were they open to a massive hotel construction
project on their island in a restricted spatial zone?
What stands out in the formulation of the guiding question for SCETO
consultants - how to accommodate large numbers of foreign visitors
while protecting Balinese from cultural harm - is the circular logic
used to arrive at this question. SCETO consultants were able to calculate
that 9,500 hotel rooms would be needed by 1985 only by first assuming
that these hotel rooms would, indeed, be built before 1985, thereby
creating a need to market them to potential tourists. In other words,
demand was first imagined, thereby justifying supply. Thus, the key
question in this case - the stated need to provide for large numbers of
foreign tourists while simultaneously protecting Balinese from cultural
harm - preceded the construction of economic projections that appeared
to lead to the question.
Having reached the conclusion that a large-scale construction project
would be necessary to accommodate projected visitors, the consultants
then turned to the question of cultural protection. A 'civilization', they
stated, was 'a living entity which exists and develops according to certain
organic laws peculiar to itself' (1:8). These laws, they asserted, were
based on 'culture' and 'environment' (ibid). They argued that the
introduction of large-scale tourism would interfere with these laws in
three ways. First, by initiating contacts between Balinese and the out
side world, tourism 'will make them [the Balinese] aware of a certain
alienation or estrangement'. In addition, by providing wage employ
ment for local residents, tourism would introduce salaries and individual
incomes into what the consultants portrayed as a communal, agrarian
society, thereby accelerating 'the formation of a consumer class'. Finally,
the introduction of 'specific infrastructures adapted to the Western way
of life' would pressure Balinese 'to comply with Western models',
particularly in regard to transportation and housing (1:9). Returning to
this concern in volume II of their study, SCETO consultants character
ized Bali as 'a society in which tensions dissolve, a society that is in
full possession of its equilibrium'; any disruption of this equilibrium
would, from a marketing perspective, negatively affect Bali's key asset,
its unique culture and society (11:10). This is because, the authors went
SCETO proposed building 6,950 hotel rooms at Nusa Dua. The remaining 2,550
rooms envisaged in their plan would be distributed between Denpasar, the island's
capital, and the existing tourist beach resorts of Sanur and Kuta.
The measures designed to attempt to introduce the excursion routes into the
delicate mechanisms of Balinese life are intended to bring the two communities,
the Balinese and the visitors, into contact with one another in previously chosen
areas and in an especially prepared context. What will happen if one of the two
Balinese society, like that of Java, is organized around the desa, or village. On Bali,
each desa consists of anywhere from one or two to as many as nine banjar, a type of
neighbourhood cooperative organization ranging in size from one hundred to five
hundred members. All married men and/or male heads of households are obliged to
join their local banjar, while all other residents are affiliated with the banjar of the
head of their household. The chief purpose of a banjar is to provide assistance for
weddings, local festivals, and cremations. Each banjar has a meeting hall, temple,
gamelan orchestra, and dance costumes. Members have certain financial and labour
obligations; in return, they receive the help of their banjar during emergencies, as
well as for weddings and especially cremations. In addition, all farming families are
affiliated, via their heads of household, with a subak, a type of cooperative irrigation
organization. There are approximately 1,200 such subak on the island, averaging
two hundred members each. Members maintain the dams and canals that provide for
their water needs. A kepala subak (chairman) assigns duties, arranges irrigation sched
ules, and makes sure the subak's temple receives regular offerings. As with the banjar,
attendance at subak meetings and participation in activities is mandatory. In recent
years, some banjars have begun to accept cash payments by members unable (or
unwilling) to participate in its activities.
rejects the other? Tourists are generally naive and somewhat bothersome
their cameras and good intentions, and the actual economic benefits of the op
will go to too small a minority to compensate for the social nuisances cau
the project. (1:17)
(including Bali) over the preceding decade. Instead, the unnamed aut
noted the 'remarkable recovery of the Indonesian economy since t
mid-1960s', the continued dominance of the agricultural sector
the development potentials of tourism (1-3).6 Turning to Bali, the r
painted a glowing picture of a harmonious and static society rich
tourism potential:
Bali continues to evoke in the tourist's mind the ideal of a tropical parad
Bali's chief tourist assets are the natural and scenic attractions of the island
more importantly, its people and their culture. This culture, held in equilib
by a communal society and the Hindu heritage, permeates all facets of Bal
existence and expresses itself in a profusion of art, dance, music and sculp
(IBRD, 1974:4)
The authors, without any mention of the events of 1965-66, simply state: 'Despite
its remarkable cultural and scenic attractions, Indonesia received relatively little
tourism traffic before 1967.' (2)
argued seven decades ago, the claim that the absence of a central
results in the absence of planning ignores the countless plans of
actors that are always in existence. It is therefore a fallacy to asser
without a master plan anarchy and chaos will reign. Instead,
innumerable plans of social actors engaging with each other and
existing social regulatory mechanisms invariably lead to the eme
of social order, one which better serves social actors than a plan
order constructed and imposed by planning experts.
From these planning assumptions by SCETO consultants and
planners flowed a series of related conclusions, all based on the gu
idea that only through central government control could Balinese
and the island's environment be protected from the disruptive e
of tourism while ensuring the continued growth of the tourism indus
In their analysis of the social effects of tourism, the World
experts listed three potential drawbacks to unregulated tour
connected to aesthetics, religion, and economic equity. First, they
that artists and performers who lived near tourist areas spent thei
producing and performing diluted versions of their products for
discerning foreign audience, while those in non-tourist areas main
'classical art forms' but received no patronage. Implied is a fear
classic, pure forms would eventually disappear in favour of com
cialized, corrupted forms. In addition, they noted local worries a
the disruptive behaviour of tour groups in temples. Finally, they
attention to the need to distribute the economic benefits of tourism
equitably so as to maintain local support for tourism policies (IBRD,
1974: 25-26; also see annex XII).
The Bali Tourism Development Corporation (BTDC) was charged
with responsibility for solving these social issues. It would do so by
maximizing the use of local labour at the Nusa Dua construction site,
drawing artists, dancers, and musicians from as many villages as possible,
and, through a state-funded hotel training school, make certain that
Balinese workers were 'suitably prepared for the job opportunities
generated by the resort investments' (27).
Once again, a form of blind logic is at work here. Indeed, it is ironic
to read of the planners' worries about a fair distribution of economic
benefits, in view of the fact that their planning policies would produce
an inequitable distribution by channelling tourism spending into central
government coffers and the pockets of foreign investors. Moreover, a
focus on producing trained hotel and restaurant workers to serve foreign
tourists in the Nusa Dua complex ignored the current realities of tourist—
What these researchers do not explain is that, following the 1965 military tak
by Suharto and the massacre of suspected communists and other assorted leftis
followed, membership of any organization that appeared to be related to the p
left was banned. Moreover, any hint of leftist activity could, in effect, black
person. Indeed, both the Indonesian Communist (PKI) and Socialist Parties
were outlawed and former-President Sukarno's left-leaning Indonesian Nati
Party (PNI) broken. In addition, labour organizations were amalgamated into a
national organization controlled by the central government (persatuan, transl
'society', 'association', or 'union'). In these circumstances, the yayasan becam
safest vehicle for non-governmental activity. Because of its ambiguity, the co
of yayasan could accommodate a wide variety of organizations. These would
tually range from the sorts of micro-groups noted in this research report
were, in effect, micro-unions or guilds - to President Suharto himself, who all
used his personal yayasan as a conduit for the channelling of tens of millio
dollars to family and friends. Today, while most Indonesian groups engaged in
activities describe themselves with the term lembaga swadaya masyarakat
munity self-help organizations'), others are organized as yayasans ('foundat
For both these groups, the sense of mutual cooperation implied in the way the ter
used in this report has been replaced by a individualized sense of conflict
governmental authorities.
Other dangers arise with the development of cultural tourism seen by the scholars
and researchers of Udayana University as endowed with positive aspects and
consistently presented as preferable to mass tourism. While this comes naturally
enough to academics it is to be feared that they are deluded by the greater under
standing that cultural tourists show in their priorities, misled by their surer taste,
deceived by their discrimination in the search for authentic antiques, their questions
about the purposes and types of ritual, their more overt wishes to participate in
true home life than the casual 'homestayer' for whom stereotype smile
communication is enough. .. .Yet the attitudes of cultural tourists consist not of
contacts but of penetrations, encroachments and interactions which must, in
every way, have greater impact than the four-day visit of the guided tourist. The
cultural tourist inserts himself deeper into the core of his object of interest, thus
disturbing it much more than would the superficial observer. (Ibid., 751, emphasis
added).
for Bali to restrict its 'tourist intake' to 'travelers who are espec
interested in what it has to offer and who might be particu
appreciative of the more intimate atmosphere which the abse
crowds of foreigners would preserve' (ibid.). In other words, Len
revived the pre-war Dutch colonial desire to maintain Bali as a li
museum for discriminating travellers.10
What both Francillon and Lengyel ignored in their arguments
the political context within which the Udayana researchers had m
their recommendations for a provincial tourism policy. In essenc
academic researchers were faced with a dilemma: on the one hand, a
central government plan to transform Bali into the tourist centre of
Indonesia and, on the other, their own concerns and worries about the
effects uncontrolled foreign tourism would have on Balinese society.
The Bali provincial government responded to this dilemma by
officially adopting a policy favouring cultural tourism [pariwisata
budaya] in 1974. Under this policy, proclaimed as Perda number 3
[Peratuan Daerah, or regional regulation], 'cultural objects' [objek
objek budaya] were identified as resources for the development of
tourism, with the resulting revenues to be used for the development of
culture. That is to say, cultural tourism, it was claimed, would support
and revitalize Balinese culture; in the words of the regulation, 'Cultural
What eventually emerged by the mid-1980s, as the standard World Bank and United
Nations position on tourism as a development tool, was a combination of the Francillon
and Lengyel arguments. This can be seen in UNDP- and World Bank-funded tourism
projects in such places as Tibet and Bhutan. In both, planning focused on cultivating
a select group of discriminating foreign travellers willing to pay greatly for the right
to tour a place essentially off-limits to mass tourism. In other words, by restricting
both visas to enter a country and the ability to travel freely within that country,
planners sought to tap a select demand, thereby making tourism profitable while
preventing cultural contact between local residents and foreign tourists. While aimed
at preserving what were claimed to be threatened cultures, these restrictive policies
also had the paradoxical effect of supporting oppressive regimes by giving them
access to new sources of foreign exchange. Moreover, these policies also worked to
ensure that the economic benefits of foreign tourism would remain in state hands,
thereby reducing local residents to the status of 'local colour'. In Bhutan, a small,
isolated mountain kingdom ruled by an all-powerful king, this policy has been suc
cessful, in the sense of reaching its goals: few foreign tourists are allowed into the
kingdom, and those few pay a premium for the right. However, in the case of Tibet,
cracks have appeared in the plans as local residents have sought to gain benefits
from the tourist presence, albeit not on the scale of those in Bali. In Lhasa, small
homestays, shops, and restaurants have appeared, catering to the tastes of backpackers
and other low-budget travellers who enter Tibet overland from Nepal or from the
adjacent Chinese province of Qinghai, or by air via Chengdu in 'paper' travel groups.
Cited in Geriya, 1996, at p. 116. The translation is my own; in the original Indone
sian, the regulation proclaimed, Pariwisata Budaya adalah salah satu jenis pariwisata
yang dalam pengembangannya ditunjang oleh faktor kebudayaan. Kebudayaan yang
dimaksud adalah kebudayaan Bali yang dijiwai oleh agama Hindu. The position
that cultural tourism would stimulate a revival of local culture was also argued by
American anthropologist Philip McKean. However, this position rested on the
assumption that local social actors could unproblematically separate what was 'sacred'
(and not open to tourism) from what was profane (and hence open to commodification)
in terms of culture. McKean conducted fieldwork in Bali in 1971 for his 1973 disser
tation for Brown University ('Cultural involution: tourists, Balinese, and the process
of modernization in an anthropological perspective'). A revised portion of this work
later appeared as 'Towards a theoretical analysis of tourism: economic dualism and
cultural evolution in Bali', in Smith, 1989.
Theirs is a living, dynamic society which has for hundreds of years adapted
remarkable flexibility to the forces of change. Tourism development repr
only one such force. (IBRD, 1974: 25; emphasis added.)
Indonesian uses the term losmen and the English word 'homestay' to describe a
small-scale pension with basic facilities. The word 'hotel' describes Western-style
accommodation; a hotel bintang is a starred hotel (usually with such amenities as hot
water and air conditioning), while a hotel melati is a hotel that, while a step above a
'homestay', is quite basic and small.
subjects.13 In short, both Balinese (from Ubud and elsewhere) and foreign
visitors now recognize the cultural 'aura' of Ubud - that is, the reality
of the fantasy of a timeless artists' community (Picard, 1996:89).
Both Kuta and Ubud, as well as other unplanned tourist areas on Bali
such as Candi Dasa, Batur, and Lovina, have thrived outside the master
plan because of a combination of high demand, low capital investment
requirements, and high local linkages (Picard, 1993:81). Just as
importantly, they have been able to develop because of the building
restrictions imposed by the master plan on areas outside Nusa Dua,
Sanur, Kuta, and Denpasar. That is to say, one unintended consequence
of the planning effort to assure the authenticity of Balinese culture by
prohibiting hotel expansion across the entire island was to stimulate
the development of a locally owned accommodation sector in these
'authentic' areas. Today, 100% of the 4,500 rooms at the Nusa Dua
enclave and 76% of the 3,200 rooms at Sanur are starred hotels. In
contrast, 37% of the Kuta area's 17,000 rooms and 95% of Ubud's
2,200 rooms are non-starred (van der Giessen et al., 1999:54).
Moreover, one of the crucial differences between these areas and the
planned tourist enclave of Nusa Dua is their pre-tourist existence as
communities, places existing within an evolving social web of mean
ing and community (as opposed to bureaucratic) regulation. Official
discourse in Bali (since 1974) and in Indonesia as a whole (since 1977)
has proclaimed tourism, when crafted and controlled by the state, to be
a tool by which traditional culture could be maintained while the state
implemented modernization. Yet the role played by tourism in places
such as Kuta and Ubud suggests that, while tradition, both in the sense
of culture and social structure, has continued to flourish outside the
In this sense, Spies and his school of painting is similar to the 'Wyeth School' described
by John Dorst in his study of Chadd's Ford, Pennsylvania. Dorst examined Chadd's
Ford as a site in two senses - spatially (as a fixed locale on a map) and 'as an idea, an
image, a matrix of ideological discourses' - arguing that the 'Others' who inhabit
this site/Site are produced within it (Dorst, 1983:11). An example is his discussion
of Andrew Wyeth's famous paintings of the barn and fields of a local farmer named
Karl Kuerner. By painting this site, Wyeth framed this setting and its inhabitants; it/
they became a Site. This (Wyeth-framed) site could then be experienced by tourists
who sought out the (real) spatial site of Wyeth's paintings as a means of authenticat
ing his (painted) site. This site would eventually 're-cite' (reproduce itself) in the
person of Karl Kuemer's grandson, who became a 'Wyeth School' painter, reproducing
Wyeth images of his own family property (Dorst, 1983:58). Similarly, local artists
practising the 'Ubud School' of painting now produce images that reproduce Spies's
representations of Ubud. (See Dorst, 1983.)
Backpackers, for example, tend to travel through several countries on a single journey
and hence tend to enter Indonesia either through Jakarta by air or Sumatra by ship.
When arriving in Bali by ship or plane from another Indonesian province, there are
no counting mechanisms.
These new zones were Ubud, Kintamani, Nusa Penida, Ujung, Lovina, Candidasa,
Candi Kusuma, Bedugal, Tanah Lot, Medewi, Gliimanuk, Teluk Terima, Kedonganan,
and Jimbaron.
As Certeau put this, a strategy 'postulates a place that can be delimited as it own and
serve as the base from which relations with an exteriority composed of targets as
threats . . . can be managed' (Certeau, 1984:36).
For further discussion of metis, see Scott, 1998. Certeau notes that this concept has
been discussed in depth by Marcel Detienne and Jean-Pierre Vernant (1974).
of the island. In Ubud, art galleries, craft shops and espresso bars compe
for business with French and Italian restaurants and bookshops stoc
the New York Times, while in Kuta, surf shops and all-you-can-dr
night clubs compete with pizzerias and the Hard Rock Cafe for
cash of drunken Australians and rebel Japanese (they get tanned). Sa
once the home of expatriate artists, has become a playground of t
international scene; Mick Jagger chose it for his latest wedding, w
Ronald Reagan loved it for its golf course. The former homes of m
pre-war Western expatriates have become hotels and tourist attract
in their own right, as have the tourists themselves: Kuta Beach is
regular stop on bus tours for domestic tourists, who wander the b
at sunset, staring at sunbathing foreigners.
Of crucial importance here is the place of everyday social relatio
ships in this process, in particular the place of personal identity in relat
to culture. As Michel Picard has argued, the main goal of planned
ism development in New Order Indonesia was the transformatio
culture into cultural display as a means of increasing state control o
the social relations that make up culture (cf. Picard, 1997:198).
just as tourism does not destroy an authentic, holistic culture, nor
a holistic culture so easily and neatly respond to state policies in t
ways in which policy makers desire. Instead, tourism marks a s
where local inhabitants (those who are toured) are able to reflect b
on who they are and how they relate as both self and community
world beyond this space (cf. Abram et al., 1997:10). That is to s
clear-cut dichotomy between international tourism as a tool of
development and as a site of cultural degradation does not hold up in
practice. Instead, such tourism is both a form of Westernization and a
stimulus to indigenous culture. In Derridean terms, local cultural
practices are constituted as local only in opposition to other practices
that can be defined as not local (foreign). What it might mean to be
Balinese only has meaning via contact with something and someone
not Balinese.
References
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with People and Places. Oxford: Berg Publishers.
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in Sulawesi, Indonesia', in Wood and M. Picard (ed.), Tourism, Ethnicity and the
State in Asian and Pacific Societies. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 155-180.
Anderson, B. and R. McVey. 1971. A Preliminary Analysis of the October 1, 1965 Coup
in Indonesia. Ithaca: Cornell University Modern Indonesia Project.
Badan Perencanaan Pembangunan Nasional (Bappenas). 2001. Pokok-pokok Reformasi
Pariwisata. Jakarta: National Planning Development Agency.
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Certeau, M. de. 1984. The Practice of Everyday Life. Berkeley: University of California
Press.
—. 1986. Heterologies: Discourse on the Other (translated by Brian Massum).
Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
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guesthouses: doing business in low-budget accomodation sectors in Kuta and Ubud,
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Cognizant Communications Corporation, 52-66.
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Paul.
Indeed, some anthropologists on Bali, put off by the presence of mass tourism, have
come fuli circle, shifting their attention to the relatively untouristed north of the
island - the 'impure' and degraded Bali from which the expatriates and anthropolo
gists of the 1930s fled on the grounds that it had been longest under Dutch control
and therefore was already contaminated by the West. In the scramble for an ethno
graphical stake on an island already over-written, some anthropologists now use the
impure merits of the north as justification for further fieldwork. One example is
Fredrik Barth's most recent work, Balinese Worlds, in which he argues that Bali has
'shrunk' to a trapezoid bounded by Bayung Gede, Tabanan, Sanur, and Klungkung
(Barth, 1993). This reinforces a fixed image of 'a benign tropical islet occupied by a
multitude of replicating villages with a rich, but essentially homogeneous, culture'
(10). Thus, by looking at North Bali and its eclectic population of Muslims, Chinese,
Bali-Hindu, and Bali-Agra, he seeks to complicate the picture of what 'Bali' is.