The Java Spirit and the Handicapped

What is the current situation in Indonesia? The Jakarta Post contributor Duncan Graham reports from Malang, East Java.
When Dutch missionary Paul Janssen arrived in Kediri, East Java in 1951, he was shocked by the sight of so many disabled children.

Then 29, the Catholic priest from the Order of St. Vincent de Paul was no freshman, easily distressed by the squalor of Asia. He had already served two years in China before being expelled by the Communists, then four years in the Philippines.

But the lack of care available to the disabled in Indonesia struck a new low.

“The Dutch had left without doing practically anything,” he said. “They had very little contact with the local population. They were just interested in money.

“The priests and chaplains of the Dutch Catholic church were working with businesses and agricultural enterprises like the sugar factories. The handicapped were just lying about in the streets.”

There were many other problems, like malaria and a raft of other diseases. Infant mortality was high and many women were dying in labor.

The system of puskesmas (community health centers) had not been introduced. Doctors were few, particularly in rural areas.
Health care was left to those skilled in the use of traditional medicines – and paranormals.

Malaria has now been eradicated from Java, but not the outlying islands. Puskesmas are widespread, though not always well staffed or -equipped. Child mortality has tumbled, though it is still unacceptably high.

And paranormals continue to be consulted, even by the educated.

The maimed and disfigured are still visible in Indonesia, usually begging at traffic lights. But the numbers are small compared to half a century ago, according to Janssen.

Back in the early 1950s, he found his calling.

It’s tempting to write that he received a divine message. But hopes of embroidering this story with a sudden vision were dashed by the pragmatic priest, though he modified his denial by adding: “Not directly.”

The indirect influences came through the books of French Canadian philosopher Jean Vanier and founder of L’Arche (The Ark). L’Arche is an international organization that sets up communities where disabled people and their caregivers can live, work and learn together.

At the time, medical authorities in the West believed that institutional care was the best way to handle the handicapped, reasoning that this way, they would get access to top medical attention in controlled surroundings that could be well maintained.

It sounded good, particularly for doctors, but a couple of essentials were lacking: love and individual care.

Janssen noticed that, despite the problems and the pain, villagers in Java had “a very intense community spirit”. They cared for each other but didn’t have the resources.

While in the Philippines, Janssen undertook nursing training, along with a doctorate in theology and a Masters in social psychology. These were applied in Java, where he promoted the philosophy of community-based rehabilitation.

A community-based rehabilitation system means people must develop the energy, skills and knowledge to improve themselves, not wait for governments to come along and do the job. It also embraces empowerment, acquiring education and generating ideas, being able to read and write, believing in the human spirit and the right of the individual to enjoy their place in the world.
These ideas don’t always appeal to governments, particularly centralized and authoritarian regimes.

The village where Janssen lived was poor, but stable. Rice was cheap and the people survived. But those with handicapped kids were being broken by the huge burden of children who couldn’t look after themselves.

So Janssen proposed a separate house where the children would have continual careand be educated.

“The parents agreed. What could they say? Their situation was hopeless. We had about a dozen children in that first home. They didn’t care that I was a Catholic – their only concern was that their child would be loved,” he recalled.

“The model we established then is the same as the one we have today and the reverse of the Western institutional system – let us keep disabled children at home as long as possible.

“The love of your neighborhood is greater and more intense than the suffering you will endure through ill health,” Janssen stressed.
“Hospitals are for the sick, but the disabled are not sick. They made big mistakes in Europe, the U.S. and Australia by building institutions. These grand buildings are now empty because they’ve realized community care is more effective.”

To stop this tale from becoming a tome, it’s necessary to fast-forward through the next few decades. These include Janssen being shifted to Madiun (in western East Java) to develop Catholic tertiary education, a falling-out with his superiors who considered his interest in the disabled “a hobby”, and a move to Malang in 1959.

The move came about when his project was visited by a group of German doctors and journalists who were so impressed by his work that they offered big funding through a charity.

But European laws governing the separation of church and state meant money could not be given to an ecclesiastical organization. So Janssen quit his job and started a secular charity called Bhakti Luhur (supreme service).

Bhakti is a Sanskrit word that has its origins in a Buddhist movement in 6th-century India. It is also a Hindu devotion that believes when love is greater than bad things, then the bad are eliminated.

When challenged whether he should be upholding Catholic principles, Janssen replied: “Catholicism is very close to Buddhism. In the basic points we are the same.”

Expanding upon this premise, he said,should stop paying attention to the differences and look for the similarities. The problems of pain and suffering are identical, whatever your religion. I also believe in karma.”

But weren’t there government concerns that another agenda was being run behind the medical and social care, that there was a plot to Christianize the kids? As a Dutchman in post-Independence Indonesia, he must have been hated?

“I have never experienced hate,” he declared. “I’m not interested in conversiononly care. In my experience, the Dutch are not disliked.”

But they were soft targets, and in the early 1970s Janssen was accused of being a subversive by a minister in the Soeharto government. He was questioned by the army for a day, then placed under city arrest.

Even so, Janssen drove to Surabaya where he had good contacts that led straight to the president through his wife, Ibu Tien Soeharto. The allegation was dismissed as a “slip of the tongue”, but his community development training had to stop.

“Don’t ever expect to be accepted by governments,” Janssen told his supporters. “The poor have to be kept poor. The small fish have to be kept small so they can be eaten by the big fish.”

With all his energies now focused on the disabled, and with support from UNICEF and other international agencies, Bhakti Luhur expanded.

The charity organization now has 75 centers across the archipelago with more than 40 in Malang, which remains the national headquarters – and Bhakti Luhur is said to be Indonesia’s largest non-governmental organization caring for the disabled through community programs.

About 4,000 disabled kids are now receiving individualized care and education, usually in small units where the caregiver-child ratio is about 3 or 4 to one.

“But there are at least two million disabled kids across the republic who aren’t getting care,” Janssen said.
“They have a right to education in normal schools. Integration, not isolation. They have a right to employment in normal jobs. They’re not getting this. That’s a big problem.”