By Brett McNeil
Third of a three-part series.
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Part One: The blood of the Madurese tastes like cow.
Part Two: If we like beer, maybe we’d like some women?
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This is Indonesia writ small: Externally conservative but also wide open and available, especially behind closed doors. It’s corrupt and yet the corruption offers enough freedom of movement and wiggle room – rules meant to be broken, bribes that grease skids and line public servants’ pockets – that it works, for now, for enough of the country’s growing middle class and even the upper levels of the poor.
The rich already have their perks guarded and guaranteed by the government and police; it’s down here in the middle register, where the strictures of Muslim conservatism meet the licentiousness of street life and somehow meld, that the social and financial pressures of an expanding export and unmistakably import-consumerist economy are quietly, privately bled off.
I’m not saying that middle class Indonesians are all visiting massage parlors for rubdowns and quickies, or that they’re smuggling beer to dry towns and selling it for profit.
What I mean is that there’s enough slippage here built into the system – and it’s definitely a highly regimented, hierarchical, formalized system of government control of jobs and information and access to both, with millions of people either plugged into the system or trying desperately to get plugged in – that Indonesians are able to get what they want or need, more or less, regardless of what the rules say.
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Posted on February 24, 2011