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From: John MacDougall <johnmacdougall@
Date: Jul 25, 2007 5:03 AM
Subject: [i-s] Dress and Ethnic Identity in Irian Jaya
To: indonesian-studies@
Dress and Ethnic Identity in Irian Jaya
Journal article by Michael C. Howard; SOJOURN: Journal of Social
Issues in Southeast Asia, Vol. 15, 2000
Dress and Ethnic Identity in Irian Jaya
by Michael C. HOWARD
After decades of neglect, studies of dress have come back into vogue
among academics in recent years. While past (largely pre-World War II)
studies were largely concerned with technical aspects of textiles
(sometimes in relation to evolutionary or diffusionist questions),
current studies are more interested in the cultural context of dress,
especially in relation to rapid change and the contemporary forces of
globalization. Most of the recent literature on dress, however, has
been decidedly inward-looking, relating dress to such things as
hierarchy and gender within particular societies. To the extent that a
broader context is addressed, this has tended to entail a look at
perceived negative aspects of globalization on local fashions.
While contemporary writings on dress frequently associate certain
styles of dress with some ethnic group, as noted by Eicher (1995b, p.
1), there has been a marked neglect of analysis of this relationship
between dress and ethnic identity among academics. Thus, although it
is possible to point to a handful of recent case studies concerning
dress and ethnic identity,(1) virtually the only general post-war work
on ethnicity to discuss the role of dress as an ethnic marker is
Manning Nash's The Cauldron of Ethnicity in the Modern World (1989).
Nash categorizes dress as one of the "surface pointers" which "make
recognition at a distance, or a fleeting instance, possible, and as
such are in themselves often barriers to more intimate contact" (p.
11). He then remarks that these surface pointers are significant only
when linked to "core features of group differences" (p. 12). The
latter, he states, include: kinship ("presumed biological and descent
unity"), commensality ("the propriety of eating together"), and common
cult ("a value system beyond time and empirical circumstance") (pp.
10-11).
While Nash approaches the question of dress and identity largely from
the perspective of the group with an emphasis on continuity, it has
become increasingly popular in recent years to examine identity in a
more dynamic way with attention to the various identities that an
individual may have in different contexts and the choices that people
must make. Although not specifically concerned with questions of
ethnic identity, Emma Tarlo's (1996) work on dress in India adopts
such an approach. Tarlo focuses on the choices that a person makes in
selecting what to wear in a variety of contexts -- the clothing
dilemmas that people face -- in a rapidly changing world. Tarlo points
to the multiple nature of people's identities in modern India and the
often conflicting choices that they must make in deciding what to
wear. While perhaps less relevant to the more closed and
tradition-bound communities of the past, personal choice of dress as
it relates to ethnic and other forms of identity is certainly of
considerable relevance to all societies today.
Such works as those by Nash and Tarlo present us with a starting point
by which to explore the interrelationship between dress and ethnic
identity in both general and particular contexts. The particular
context of the present article is the Indonesian province of Irian
Jaya. The discussion that follows begins with a brief survey of
writing on dress and ethnic identity in Southeast Asia, with a focus
on Indonesia. This is followed by an overview of Irianese societies
and dress prior to the advent of sustained external influence during
the latter part of the nineteenth and into the mid-twentieth
centuries. Next is an examination of acculturative influences during
the period of Dutch rule and under Indonesian rule until the past few
years. Finally, there will be a look at developments over the past few
years in regard to acculturative pressures and the contemporary use of
items of dress associated with Irianese identity.
Dress and Ethnic Identity in Southeast Asia
One particularly striking feature of the purportedly more theoretical
writing on dress in recent years is the virtual absence of Southeast
Asian material from the discussion. This is despite the fact that few
other regions of the world have been the subject of so much
descriptive writing on dress as Southeast Asia (see Howard 1994) and
that throughout Southeast Asia patterns of dress have long played an
important role as markers of ethnic identity.(2)
Looking at Southeast Asian academic studies in general, it is striking
how little attention is paid to dress in the post-World War II
literature on ethnicity in the region. Leach, in his classic 1954
study of Kachin state in northern Myanmar, which for many is the
starting point of modern studies of ethnicity in Southeast Asia (and
more generally), mentions dress only briefly. He remarks that "apart
from speech, the most obvious cultural variable in different parts of
the Kachin Hills is dress" (1954, p. 55), but it is apparent that the
topic holds little interest for him. He views dress as essentially a
random symbolic expression of underlying structural differences
(ibid., p. 16) reflecting ethnicity as well as status. Despite the
lack of elaboration in Leach's study, he does point to a couple of
themes that remain important to the study of dress and ethnic
identity: the need to take into account regional variations in dress
within an ethnic group and, in particular, the differences in patterns
of dress between highlanders and lowlanders (ibid., pp. 20, 55).(3)
Dress does not play much of a role in subsequent ethnographic writing
on Southeast Asia in the 1960s and 1970s, which focuses on other
social aspects of ethnic relations. This is exemplified in
Kunstadter's 1967 two-volume survey, Southeast Asian Tribes,
Minorities; and Nations. While some of the themes discussed in the
book in relation to ethnic identity, such as the maintenance of
cultural boundaries and the process of assimilation, potentially could
have included attention to dress, the topic is almost completely ignored.
Since the 1980s there has been a marked growth in academic writing on
textiles and dress in Southeast Asia, especially in Indonesia. Among
the earliest of these works on Indonesia, especially important in
relation to the study of dress and ethnicity is Sandra Niessen's study
of Toba Batak textiles (1985). Niessen's analysis draws on J.P.B de
Josselin de Jong's "Field of Ethnological Study" notion that focuses
on the study of
certain areas of the earth's surface with a population whose
culture
appears to be sufficiently homogeneous and unique to form a
separate object
of ethnological study, and which at the same time reveals
sufficient local
shades of differences to make internal comparative research
worthwhile.
(1977, pp. 167-68)
She suggests that the Indonesian archipelago is such a field, with
many differences, but a structural core. While Josselin de Jong
focuses attention on kinship in defining these core elements, Niessen
sought to use the idea in relation to textiles, arguing that the
concept is useful primarily for its implication that intercultural
comparisons made within such a field of study will not be random,
and will
be likely to reveal variations in common themes. (p. 3)
In terms of common themes specifically relating to textiles,
Niessen turns to the work of Jager Gerlings and his comparative study
(1952) of the textiles of the Dayak of Borneo, Toraja of Sulawesi, and
the people of the islands of Sangir and Talaud in which he draws
attention specifically to the symbolic role of textiles as female
goods in these different settings. Niessen's initial study focuses on
one group of Batak. In subsequent studies (see Niessen 1993) she has
sought to place Batak textiles and dress in the larger regional and
global context and in so doing has touched upon the relationship of
dress to differences among Batak and between Batak and non-Batak.
Thus, in a discussion relating to anti-Dutch and anti-Malay feelings
of the Karo Batak around the time of the Karo rebellion in 1872 she notes:
Karo clothing co-operated with those feelings as a badge, and an
expression, of their difference from their neighbors. The simple
and sober
indigo blue cloths of the Karo reflected the egalitarian nature of
their
social structure (ibid., p. 64)
and that "the clothing of the Karo did not co-operate with the
principles of authority and hierarchy endorsed by the Malay and
colonial establishment" (ibid., pp. 64-65). The use of indigo dye
allowed the Karo to transform even cloth purchased from others into
something that identified it as distinctly Karo. Later, when "the Karo
switched their political direction, they switched both their clothing
styles and colours" (ibid., p. 69). Their cloth became more European
and Malay in colour and style (for example, as red and gold replaced
indigo). Other recent academic studies of textiles in Indonesia have
tended to focus on the traditional symbolic role of textiles within
particular societies or related groups of societies rather than
questions of cross-cultural ethnic identity (see Barnes 1989; McKinnon
1991; Geirnaert 1992). Thus, despite considerable growth in the amount
of academic writing on textiles in Indonesia, as elsewhere in
Southeast Asia, attention to the relationship between ethnic identity
and dress remains underdeveloped.
The present paper focuses on the easternmost part of the Indonesian
archipelago. Irian Jaya is marginal to the Indonesian Field of
Ethnological Study, while at the same time it is at the western
extreme of what might be called the Melanesian Field of Ethnological
Study. In some respects, both in the past and today, Irian Jaya is a
transitional zone between these two fields.
Traditional Irianese Societies and Dress
Irian Jaya's population today is around two million. The population is
concentrated around the northern towns of Jayapura, Biak, and
Manokwari, and in the highlands around Wamena (see the map on the next
page). Elsewhere, population densities tend to be very low. Indigenous
people constitute some 90 per cent of this population, the rest being
comprised of migrants from other parts of Indonesia. Most of the
indigenous peoples of Irian Jaya are Papuans who have inhabited the
island of New Guinea for tens of thousands of years. In addition,
there is a much smaller group of Austronesian speakers along the coast
and on the offshore islands of north and west Irian Jaya, who first
arrived in this area about 4,000 years ago. The indigenous inhabitants
of Irian Jaya are relatively diverse linguistically as well as in
other aspects of their cultures. The Summer Institute of Linguistics
(Grimes 1992, pp. 565-85) lists 248 indigenous languages for Irian
Jaya. Only twenty-four of these languages are spoken by more than
10,000 people, while the other 224 languages are spoken by fewer than
10,000 (in many instances by fewer than 1,000 people).(4) The most
widely spoken languages are Dani and Yali in the Baliem Valley and
vicinity, Ekari (or Me) of the western central highlands, Moni to the
northeast of the Ekari, the Asmat languages of the southern coastal
region, Biak (the main Austronesian language) in Cenderawasih Bay, and
Sentani on the north coast around Lake Sentani.
In terms of economic adaptation, the indigenous population of Irian
Jaya can be divided roughly into three traditional primary "regional
agroecological variations and associated land resource tenure regimes"
(Lavalin and Hasfarm Dian 1987). First are swampy coastal and riverine
areas where people rely on sago palms and fishing. The Asmat, Marind,
and Komoro (or Mimika) of southern Irian Jaya provide examples of this
adaptation. Second are the highlands with gardening of sweet potatoes
and pig raising. The Dani, Yali, Ekari, and Moni provide examples of
this adaptational strategy. Third are the foothills, small valleys,
and non-swampy coastal areas where people employ strategies involving
a mixture of gardening, sago extraction, fishing, hunting, and pig
raising. The Moi, who live on Salawti Island and on the mainland near
Sorong in the Bird's Head Peninsula, and the Kemtuik, who live west of
Lake Sentani, provide examples of this adaptation.
Mansoben and Walker (1990) and Godschalk (1992) discuss general types
of leadership patterns in Irian Jaya. Essentially there are three
types. The first is one in which leadership is assigned to elders.
These are the senior members of unilineal descent groups. This type of
leadership is found where such descent groups are especially
important, such as among the Ekari. The second type is associated with
bigmen. Such leadership is obtained by the accumulation of wealth and
influence through gift-giving and trade. The Dani provide an example
of this type of leadership. There is evidence that the bigman system
has become more prominent in recent years as a result of individuals
taking advantage of new opportunities resulting from greater exposure
to the outside world. The third type is chieftanship. There are two
main varieties of chief. The first is the ondoafi or kepala suku of
the northern coastal region from Sarmi to the east. Their position is
associated with a chiefly clan and, in general, such chiefs held power
over only one or two villages. This type of leadership may be
associated with the influence of Austronesian migrants to the north
coast. The second type of chief is the raja. This type of chief is
found in western Irian Jaya around the Raja Ampat Islands, Fak Fak,
and Kaimana. This type of leadership was adopted from the sultanate
system of Tidore, Ternate, and Jailolo in the sixteenth century (see
Kamma 1947-49; Andaya 1993).
Social and economic relations among and sometimes even within
ethnolinguistic groups tended to be limited in the past. The rugged
and often inhospitable environment played a role in keeping people
apart. There were social factors as well. Members of other groups
generally were considered to be potentially dangerous or potential
victims of aggression. Communities, even small ones, were economically
self-sufficient for the most part. Trade was mainly limited to a few
prestige goods and did not involve long-distance travel. These
societies were not completely isolated from external contact, but such
contact was infrequent and usually indirect and innovations resulting
from external influences were rare.
The traditional clothing of Irian Jaya can be divided roughly into
five categories (Direktorat Sejarah dan Nilah Tradisional 1986):
barkcloth, shell-ornamented cloth, tassel, and fringe fibre clothing,
coconut fibre cloth, and gourd penis coverings. Oversimplifying
somewhat, it is possible to divide traditional patterns of dress in
Irian Jaya into two main zones occupying distinct regions associated
with two of these types of clothing: the interior koteka zone and the
north and west coastal barkcloth zone.
Koteka is an Ekari word referring to a phalocrypt or penis covering
made from a gourd. While other groups have their own names for such a
penis covering (such as holim in Dani), the term koteka has come to be
widely used throughout Irian Jaya. The koteka zone encompasses
virtually all of the highland areas of Irian Jaya (excluding the
Bird's Head Peninsula) and some of the adjacent foothill regions.
Koteka, of course, refers only to male dress. Women in this zone also
tend to have one item of distinguishing dress in common: a string bag
(commonly referred to as a noken, or su in Dani) that they hang down
their backs and that serves as an item of adornment as well as being
used to carry food, children, pigs, and the like.
Dani dress is by far the best documented within the koteka zone. Dani
men wear only the penis covering and a few items of adornment
(including a walimo, a bib or tie, and a hat-like wig) and women wear
a skirt and a string bag. Boys and girls start wearing clothing at
about age four. Upon marriage, a young woman changes the loose hanging
grass skirt that is the standard costume for unmarried women for a
braided cord skirt made of up to thirty metres of plant fibre cord
that hangs very low on the hips and is sewn on before the marriage
ceremony (see Sargent 1972, pp. 221-32). Heider (1979, p. 56; and see
Heider 1969) considers Dani clothing to be "mainly ornamental",
serving primarily to protect a person's modesty, as well as having a
supernatural function as protection from ghosts that might otherwise
try to enter a person's body through the base of the neck or anus. The
latter is one function of the string bag that women hang down their
backs. In addition to modesty, of course, clothing also serves to make
fashion statements. Heider (1979, p. 56) notes that differences in
status among men are generally known to those around them and are not
reflected in dress. Rather, differences in dress are more a matter of
personal preference. This is reflected in penis coverings. Men will
usually have a wide variety of shapes and sizes of these as well as
plain and decorated ones.(5)
The basic items of adornment of the Dani -- penis sheath, string bag,
grass skirt, and braided cord skirt -- are to be found throughout much
of the koteka zone. Within this zone there are in some instances
differences in styles and additional items that distinguish the
members of one ethnolinguistic group from another. Wealthy Moni men,
for example, wear a "cushion on the loin made of plaited string and
covered in grass husks" (Van Nunen 1973, pp. 15-16) that is not found
among many other groups in the koteka zone.(6) Yali men can sometimes
be distinguished from their Dani neighbours by the series of rattan
rings that they wrap around the middle of their bodies (with a long
penis sheath sticking out from underneath).
One feature of the clothing associated with the koteka zone is the
absence of motifs adorning the costumes. The koteka themselves
generally are plain with only a small piece of twine wrapped around
them mainly for support rather than for decoration. The noken often
have geometric patterns made by dyeing the twine different colours or
by employing strands of coloured twine made from orchids, but these
patterns do not form particular motifs.(7)
The basic men's costume in the barkcloth zone is some kind of
loincloth along with various decorative items and the women's costume
consists of either a barkcloth or grass skirt. The coastal barkcloth
zone might better be referred to as the non-koteka zone since there
is, in fact, considerable variation in dress in this zone. It could
also be referred to as a zone of Austronesian influence. In a recent
survey of barkcloth in Irian Jaya, Howard (1996, p. 114) comments that
the distribution of barkcloth in Irian Jaya appears to reflect the
influence of Austronesian-
have been developed independently. Barkcloth was worn by people along
the coast of Irian Jaya from the Papua New Guinea border in the
northeast and around the western end of the province to the area
occupied by the Kamoro (Mimika) on the southern coast.(8)
Not only are there many differences in the barkcloth found within this
zone, but there are numerous other variations in dress as well (a
sense of the variety of dress can be gained from the photos in Howard
1996). Such differences sometimes serve to distinguish one
ethnolinguistic group from another, but often they are more regional
in character, reflecting patterns of trade or cultural links among
neighbouring groups. One particularly distinctive form of dress is
made of cloth woven from nibung palm leaf fibre known as terfo (see
Howard and Sanggenafa 1999). This woven cloth is associated solely
with the Austronesian-
coastal town of Sarmi who appear to have brought the knowledge of how
to make such cloth with them when they settled along the coast a few
thousand years ago and represents perhaps the earliest type of weaving
found among the Austronesian-
wearing of this cloth virtually ceased in the early twentieth century
(although recently it has been revived). Such cloth was worn in
addition to barkcloth and was generally part of a costume worn for
dances and ceremonial occasions. Men, for example, tended to wear a
loincloth made of barkcloth with a girdle of the woven cloth, while
women wore skirts made of pieces of woven cloth hanging from the back
and front.
Within the barkcloth zone it is possible only to speculate on how
particular patterns of dress spread between Austronesian to
non-Austronesian peoples. Such diffusion is likely to be associated
with trade along the coast and the exchange of items of adornment for
trade and social purposes. Often particular items of clothing would be
made in only one or two communities and then traded to other
communities. In his description of women's barkcloth dresses around
the Jayapura-Sentani area, Van der Sande (1907) refers to trade in
barkcloth as well as to local differences in the type of barkcloth and
the style of dresses fashioned from it. Elmberg (1968, p. 165) briefly
discusses trade in barkcloth in the Bird's Head Peninsula, noting that
in some areas high quality barkcloth "was used as the basic unit of
exchange". The beaded skirts known as sireu found on Yapen Island and
neighbouring areas of Cenderawasih Bay, which serve as important items
for bridewealth exchange, appear to be made in only one or two
communities (mainly Ambai) which specialize in this craft (Howard, in
press; and see Greub 1992, pp. 50-51).
Early accounts by Europeans also indicate that clothing fashions
sometimes changed in terms of design and the use of motifs. Such
changes indicate a more dynamic situation than found in the interior
koteka zone that possibly reflects the different character of these
coastal societies with their greater exposure to one another and to
the outside world over the past few centuries.
The koteka and barkcloth zones are not rigidly bounded. Transitional
zones are to be found in the regions located between the interior
highlands and the coast. The upper reaches of the Memberamo River, in
particular, form such a transitional zone in which costumes sometimes
incorporate elements from both zones.
As noted earlier, Irian Jaya can be viewed as belonging to both the
Indonesian Field of Ethnological Study and the Melanesian Field of
Ethnological Study. In the case of traditional dress as described
above, there are parallels with dress patterns in neighbouring Papua
New Guinea and, by and large, the cultural context of such dress is
rooted in the Melanesian rather than the Indonesian Field of
Ethnological Study. In the case of lowland New Guinea, some dress
patterns are associated with very early material culture traditions of
the Austronesian peoples and thus can be distantly linked to the
Indonesian Field of Ethnological Study,9 while the dress patterns of
upland peoples are part of a much earlier tradition of dress that is
no longer particularly evident in the Indonesian archipelago to the west.
In her study of "flexible looped string bags" (or bilum in the
terminology used in Papua New Guinea) of the Telefol living on the
Papua New Guinea side of the border region adjacent to Indonesia,
MacKenzie (1991, p. 2) refers to the "bilum-dependent" cultures of the
mountain and hill regions of Papua New Guinea. These she distinguishes
(ibid., p. 3) from the largely Austronesian-
lowland and coastal regions and island archipelagos, where palm leaf
baskets are used. Thus, she makes a distinction in material culture
between the speakers of Austronesian and non-Austronesian languages.
Her distinction is essentially the same as mine between the koteka and
barkcloth zones, with an emphasis on different items of material
culture, and I would caution that it is important to note that
material culture of the Austronesian-
associated with neighbouring lowland-dwelling
non-Austronesian-
found throughout much of Southeast Asia in terms of distinctions
between the dress of highland and lowland peoples, with the dress of
lowland peoples commonly reflecting to a greater degree more recent
external influences.
Modern External Influences
Relevant modern external influences date back at least to the
sixteenth century and possibly a few hundred years earlier and are
associated initially with trade that took place under the auspices of
sultanates in northern Maluku such as Ternate and Tidore. A variety of
types of cloth and clothing were brought by traders to the coastal
areas of the Bird's Head Peninsula and adjacent islands as well as to
the islands of Cenderawasih Bay. The exchange of cloth often had
political implications as well as economic ones. Agents of the sultan
of Tidore, for example, presented locally influential men with special
clothing to indicate their loyalty to the sultan. Political and
economic links with Tidore helped to promote the raja system of
chieftainship and the raja were able to consolidate their power in
part through control over external trade relations.
The raja and other coastal leaders engaged in trade with interior
peoples and in this manner cloth from elsewhere in the Indonesian
archipelago made its way to the Bird's Head Peninsula, where it formed
the key element in a system of exchange and prestige. Such cloth is
generically referred to as kain timur.(10) Kain timur was not used as
clothing, but as a form of wealth that was accumulated by those
striving to achieve prestige and was a vital part of marriage
exchanges and fines imposed under traditional law. In this way, such
cloth was integrated into the systems of political leadership, dispute
settlement, economic exchange, and marriage of a cultural complex
associated with the Melanesian Field of Ethnological Study, although
it originated within the Indonesian Field of Ethnological Study, where
cloth also served important, but somewhat different, social and
cultural functions.
In recent years it has become common practice for people from
particular regions in Irian Jaya to be distinguished by the prevailing
type of bridewealth exchange practised in their region. In this way,
as people of the Bird's Head Peninsula have come into greater contact
with other Irianese, the kain timur complex has served as an important
marker of their identity to distinguish them from peoples in other
parts of Irian Jaya with different systems of bridewealth exchange.
The trade cloth from the north Maluku sultanates was used as clothing
to only a limited extent in part because of its scarcity. As external
trade along the north coast increased in the nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries with the advent of a growing Dutch presence in
eastern Indonesia (see Swadling 1996), peoples along the coast and on
the offshore islands began using imported cloth more widely for
clothing. People on the island of Biak -- long a centre of interaction
with outsiders -- were among the earliest ones to start wearing
loincloths and skirts made of such cloth. Dutch missionaries, who
established their first outpost in Irian Jaya in 1855, also served as
promoters of the use of imported commercial cloth for clothing.
Writing about the inhabitants of the northeastern coastal areas in the
1880s, De Clercq and Schmeltz (1893) describe pubic coverings made of
barkcloth, of strings of various plant fibres, as well as of imported
commercial cotton cloth. The increased Dutch presence in the Humboldt
Bay-Lake Sentani area after the arrival of a large military expedition
in 1909 resulted in more widespread use of commercial cotton cloth for
clothing and the decline of clothing made of more traditional
materials in this area.
The Dutch presence in Irian Jaya prior to World War II was limited to
a handful of settlements, Christian missions, and scattered
administrative outposts. Towns such as Serui, Manokwari, and Hollandia
(Jayapura) were small and largely inhabited by Europeans and other
migrants. Missionaries commonly insisted that people wear Western
clothing when attending church services. Around secular European
centres, imported cloth and European-influenced clothing also came
into more common use among local indigenous peoples. The Dutch,
however, converted, educated, or employed relatively few Irianese and
throughout Irian Jaya most people continued to wear more traditional
dress.
External influences on dress increased considerably after World War II
as the Dutch colonial government stepped up efforts to develop the
region and as Christian missionaries became more active. While
previously, Dutch Protestant missionaries in particular had viewed
promoting the wearing of Western-style clothing as an integral part of
their conversion efforts, the new American Protestant missionaries,
who began work especially in the highlands around Wamena in 1956,
focused on other issues and left the question of clothing alone.
Clothing re-emerged as an issue under the new Indonesian
administration, which launched Operasi Koteka in the Baliem Valley and
Wissel Lakes region in August 1971. The two main ethnolinguistic
groups who were the targets of the campaign were the Ekari (or Me) and
Dani. Although named after the penis sheath, Operasi Koteka was a
broad development effort initiated by the commander of the army in
Irian Jaya concerned with everything from animal husbandry to building
latrines. Nevertheless, getting the Dani and Ekari to switch from
their traditional dress, especially the koteka, to Western-style
clothing was an important aspect of the initiative.
Operasi Koteka met with a few modest successes in some areas, but
overall it fell far short of its goals and, in fact, met considerable
local resistance, especially in its attempt to change the clothing
styles of local people. Heider (1979, p. 57) remarked about koteka
wearing among the Dani that "there are no good reasons to give it up"
and noted that few Dani men expressed any interest in wearing pants at
the time. In the Paniai region, resistance to efforts to eliminate
traditional clothing also met strong resistance and the rejection of
modern clothing became a part of more general, and at times violent,
resistance against the government. Prior to the Ekari rebellion of
1969 in Enarotali and the surrounding area, in 1968 many Ekari began
abandoning their villages and gardens and moving into the forest in
preparation to fight against the Indonesian government. At the same
time, "the Me [Ekari] took off their clothes -- which were seen as a
symbol of ogais [non-Irianese foreigners] -- and men wore penis gourds
and women tree bark skirts" (Giay 1995, p. 232).
Kasiepo (1987, p. 92) notes the failure of these efforts to get the
highland peoples to replace koteka with trousers and comments that
missionaries and other critics of the campaign argued in particular
that the switch to pants represented a threat to health without other
changes which promoted the use of laundry soaps and created market
conditions to make such soap available. Thus, while the government,
like earlier missionaries, viewed the eradication of traditional dress
as an important goal, the achievement of which would symbolize its
overall success in its push for development, critics argued that the
clothing issue was incidental or even irrelevant to more fundamental
concerns relating to health and economic development. In fact, some
argued that government efforts to get people to change their clothing
habits made success in other areas even more difficult. The unintended
outcome of Operasi Koteka was to elevate the koteka to a symbol of
resistance to heavy-handed government initiatives and promote it as a
symbol of local identity.
While Operasi Koteka was failing to get highland men to wear pants,
throughout much of Irian Jaya during the 1970s and 1980s, gradual
economic development, more widespread schooling, and greater exposure
to the outside world was leading to dramatic changes in dress. By the
end of the 1980s, T-shirts and shorts for men and skirts and blouses,
dresses, and underwear of commercial cloth for women were being widely
adopted, even in many relatively remote areas. During the 1990s this
process intensified considerably, even in the Operasi Koteka
heartland. For example, while in 1990 it was still relatively common
in and around Wamena to see Dani men and women wearing traditional
dress, by the mid-1990s the only men wearing koteka were the elderly
and a few younger ones seeking to earn money by posing for tourist
photos and virtually all women were wearing non-traditional dress.
Recent Developments
Under former President Soeharto's New Order government in Indonesia,
nation-building entailed seeking national unity in a variety of
overlapping and in some ways contradictory manifestations. These
included the promotion of a globalized modernity, a Javanese-based
national culture, and the standardization of local cultures under the
guise of the slogan "unity in diversity". All three of these
sub-themes have been evident at various times in relation to
government policies towards dress in Irian Jaya. As was discussed
above, the theme of modernity emerged shortly after Irian Jaya was
incorporated into the Indonesian state through Operasi Koteka. One
manifestation of Javanese-based nation-building was the practice of
having civil servants don Javanese-style batik clothing on certain
occasions as a demonstration of their Indonesianness. The unity in
diversity theme emerged only recently through the government's
promotion of local batik styles and the search for standardized forms
of neo-traditional provincial dress. Such initiatives have been
pursued within the context of rapid socio-economic change that is
influencing dress styles as well.
Although commercial cloth and Western-style clothing is now in common
use throughout Irian Jaya, there are also developments taking place
promoting the continued presence of cloth and clothing that is
distinctly identifiable as Irianese. Interestingly, unlike many other
parts of the world, the tourist market has played only a minor role so
far in promoting traditional and neo-traditional cloth and clothing in
Irian Jaya -- reflecting the relatively small number of tourists who
visit the province. Three cases will be briefly examined below: the
emergence of new kain timur in the Bird's Head Peninsula, the
barkcloth revival in the Jayapura district, and batik Irian.
Both government officials and Christian missionaries have sought to
stop the use of kain timur in the Bird's Head Peninsula, largely on
the grounds that the relatively large amounts of money used to
purchase the cloth could be put to better use in promoting community
development.
against extravagant marriage and funeral ceremonies. Such arguments
and initiatives have made little headway in the Bird's Head Peninsula
and kain timur continues to be widely used. For young men, however,
the value of the cloth poses a problem since meeting the terms of his
marriage settlement in regard to the cash needed to purchase required
kain timur can be quite onerous.
Such young men thought that they had found a way around this economic
dilemma during the late 1980s, when migrants from Flores began
settling at transmigration sites in the Prafi area. The Flores women
were weavers and before long many of these women were producing new
versions of the old kain timur cloth. The prices they received for the
cloth were considerably higher than those they could obtain for their
own traditional cloth, but to the local young men awaiting marriage
these new pieces of cloth were a relative bargain. Before long there
was a virtual boom in the production of new kain timur. As with other
booms, it was not long before there was an oversupply and prices
dropped markedly. In addition, the old men who possessed most of the
older kain timur responded to this threat by changing the rules
concerning the kain timur needed for a marriage. They began to specify
not simply the categories of cloth (which could easily be copied from
old pieces), but also insisted that the payments include older pieces.
The boom went bust, but new kain timur continues to be produced and
has become an integral part of the kain timur system. In addition,
such cloth is now sometimes used for decorative purposes.
The use and production of barkcloth around the Jayapura-Sentani area
had pretty well died out by the time of World War II.(12) Even in more
isolated neighbouring areas its production and use in recent decades
has been rare. Prior to the war, barkcloth was used for two purposes:
for clothing and for paintings commonly known as maro paintings (see
Howard 1998a). There has been a revival in both of these uses over the
past few years. Maro paintings are based loosely on traditional
barkcloth clothing and use motifs from carving and other media
associated with particular peoples in the Jayapura-Sentani area, but
themselves are new commercial innovations.
Maro paintings emerged as an art form during the early part of the
century in a few localities in the Jayapura-Sentani area, primarily
the coastal village of Nafri and the island of Asei in Lake Sentani.
Staff of the anthropology museum at Cenderawasih University promoted a
revival of maro painting starting in 1992 with an exhibition at the
museum featuring the work of the most prominent older maro painter,
Seru Ongge, and by including another painter, John Ongge (one of
Seru's sons), in an exhibition of Sentani art in Jakarta.(13) Since
then, a museum staff member has emerged as a promoter of maro painting
by commissioning works, helping painters to obtain barkcloth, and
trying to sell their works through a variety of outlets. The tourist
shops in Jayapura's Hamadi market also sell inferior maro paintings.
As a result of these developments, there are now a number of local
maro painters, especially on Asei Island which now boasts over two
dozen men who identify themselves as maro painters.
The revival of barkcloth for use as dance costumes in the Jayapura
district began in 1992 with a traditional dance competition sponsored
by the kabupaten of Jayapura.(14) This competition has now become an
annual event that includes a large number of coastal and inland
communities. As many as a few dozen dancers may perform from a single
village and considerable effort goes into preparing costumes for the
dances. The result has been a major revival of making traditional or
at least traditional looking clothing in many areas. This includes
making costumes of barkcloth as well as other fibres. Most of the
costumes used in these dances are used only for the competition and
then they are put away until needed for another dance if they are
still serviceable.
Interestingly, while in the past barkcloth was often plain or featured
only fairly simple decorations which were generally not associated
with a particular ethnic group, the newer pieces are usually
decorated, commonly using acrylic paint. In some instances these
motifs are felt to identify the ethnicity of the wearer. Thus,
barkcloth from communities on the coast around Tanah Merah Bay are
often painted with motifs particular to that area derived from carving
decorations for canoes and houses that in the past served as markers
of ethnic, community, and dan identity using a different medium (see
Howard 1998b).
This revival of traditional costumes exists alongside of the continued
spread of Western-style clothing rather than serving as an
alternative. There is, of course, a tradition in the region for
special dance costumes that differ from everyday clothing. The dance
teams for the dance competition are presented by community and the
costumes therefore serve to identify members of particular communities
and to differentiate them from others. In contrast, in terms of
everyday dress, throughout much of this region today, people wear
Western-style clothing that is devoid of any form of local
identification. The situation is similar to that of many who perform
folk dances in more developed countries. In Irian Jaya, however, with
its recent history of highly charged views about loyalties to the
state, the promotion of local costumes and dances has added
significance, representing what may be viewed as a more liberal
attitude on the part of the authorities to expressions of local culture.
Similar issues have emerged in regard to batik clothing in Irian Jaya.
Batik clothing has assumed an interesting role in recent years through
efforts to promote national and regional identities within Indonesia.
Essentially a Javanese-style of clothing, batik shirts and dresses are
widely viewed in Indonesia as symbols of national identity (see Dijk
1997, p. 73). As part of nation-building efforts, batik dresses and
shirts are worn by government officials on certain days and on special
occasions in many parts of the country.(15) While women in Irian Jaya
have for many years worn cheap sarongs made with batik prints for
everyday wear, few men could be seen wearing batik shirts and
government efforts to promote the special wearing of batik until
recently have not proven overly popular. Among Irianese Christians,
ideas of special or formal dress more often follow European and North
American notions as a result of missionary influence -- white shirts
and dark trousers for men. The first time that I wore a batik shirt at
a formal function in Irian Jaya, one of my Irianese colleagues
commented that I was dressed like a Javanese.
Pieces of batik cloth are also to be found in Irian Jaya's Bird's Head
Peninsula, where they are used as kain timur. As kain timur, such
batik assumes a very localized meaning that does not identify it
broadly with the nation as a whole. Even its Javanese origin in this
context has little or no meaning to the local people, who generally
are not concerned with the actual place of origin of kain timur.
Initial efforts in the 1980s and 1990s to promote a local batik
industry in the Jayapura area and Wamena were not very successful.
Little cloth was sold and most of what was bought was purchased by
tourists or resident expatriates. The most important initiative in
this regard was Proyek Batik, established in Waena (near Jayapura) in
1983 by Yayasan Kerjasama Untuk Pembangunan Irian Jaya (Irian Jaya
Joint Development Foundation), a joint activity between the United
Nations Development Program and the Government of Indonesia. Proyek
Batik produces stencilled as well as batik tulis (batik featuring
hand-drawn rather than stamped patterns) and makes men's shirts and
women's skirts, dresses, and blouses, as well as table cloths and
other decorative items.
For the first ten years or so of its existence, Proyek Batik did not
do very well. Then in 1995 the provincial government issued a
statement urging government employees in Irian Jaya to wear batik
Irian at least on special occasions. This represented a marked change
in strategy. While batik was still being promoted as a national
symbol, rather than insisting on the use of batik with Javanese
motifs, recognition was given to Irianese motifs which were now to be
incorporated into this nation-building campaign -- unity in diversity
instead of Javanese culture for all. The strategy has worked in so far
as batik Irian has now become extremely popular with Irianese civil
servants. In fact, batik Irian shirts and dresses are increasingly
worn not just for special occasions but for everyday office wear and
away from work as well. Whether such popularity mirrors growing
support for the Indonesian government, however, is less apparent and
difficult to assess.
The motifs chosen for batik Irian are inspired by the three best known
carving traditions in Irian Jaya: those of the Asmat, the people of
Lake Sentani, and the people of the north coast around Tanah Merah
Bay. Such motifs are sometimes mixed in batik designs. The actual
design work is done by artists from Lake Sentani. One of the men
primarily responsible for creating these designs argues that his use
of motifs from other parts of Irian Jaya is justified because, so he
believes, the people of Lake Sentani were the original people of Irian
Jaya and, thus, ultimately Lake Sentani art is the basis for all other
Irianese art.(16) This is not a belief that is widely shared by
non-Sentani peoples, but it has helped to allow Lake Sentani
batik-makers to transcend local ethnolinguistic boundaries in their
creations and to produce clothing that is more generically Irianese.
Selection of clothing among batik Irian consumers appears to be
primarily a matter of personal taste and not of loyalty to the motifs
of a particular group or region. From the batik Irian that I have seen
worn on various occasions, this appears to be the case both with those
from ethnolinguistic groups whose motifs are not found on batik Irian
as well as those from groups whose motifs are found on batik Irian.
Thus, someone from Tanah Merah Bay is as likely to wear clothing
sporting Asmat motifs as motifs from Tanah Merah Bay, even though the
option is available to wear clothing with motifs identified
specifically with their own ethnolinguistic group. To a degree,
therefore, one can see the emergence of a pan-Irian-style of batik, at
least among the province's emerging local middle class and elite, that
draws on a variety of more localized traditions and reflects the
layered identities of the wearers.
The government of Indonesia has encouraged the emergence of batik
Irian and barkcloth in kabupaten Jayapura in a way that has allowed
them to assume characteristics associated with local ideas and
desires. Government concern with order in the case of the barkcloth is
seen primarily in efforts to keep the dance competitors and their
audiences from becoming too exuberant. But the styles of the costumes
are pretty much left up to local communities. Likewise, the motifs
found on batik Irian cloth have been relatively free of government
interference. Government desire to ensure an orderly manifestation of
local cultural expression-- under the unity in diversity theme-- has
expressed itself more noticeably in a recent effort to promote a set
of standardized neo-traditional costumes for Irian Jaya. Such
standardized costumes have been created and officially recognized
elsewhere in Indonesia and now it appears that it is Irian Jaya's turn.
These standardized neo-traditional costumes are used mainly to
illustrate supposedly local dress at official functions and in an
assortment of government publications. Their association with actual
traditional costumes varies from relatively faithful contemporary
renditions of former types of dress to the completely fanciful. For
the purpose of creating such costumes for Irian Jaya, a team of seven
individuals was selected by the government and it presented its report
to a seminar in February 1997 (Dinas Kebudayaan 1997). A province like
Irian Jaya presents a particular problem for those wishing to create
such costumes since there really is not much by way of traditional
costumes that are suitable for contemporary representation.
Accordingly, the three male and three female costumes put forward for
consideration by the committee bear only a minimal link to actual
traditional costumes and rely more on seeking to capture the spirit of
traditional dress symbolically through the use of motifs, materials,
or styling that evoke an association with traditional costumes. Thus,
the costumes include motifs from Lake Sentani, Biak-Numfor, Waropen,
Asmat, the Bird's Head Peninsula, and so forth. While the costumes are
made largely out of commercial cloth, there are accessories associated
with traditional dress, such as a man's head-dress made of bird's
feathers and a woman's head-dress made of a stuffed Cenderawasih bird.
Conclusion
The societies of Irian Jaya evolved in relative isolation when
compared with many other parts in the world. Different patterns of
traditional dress developed in certain regions that facilitated
identification of the wearer at least in broad terms. By and large,
however, dress served only a limited role in demarcating members of
different communities or ethnolinguistic groups. This in part probably
reflects the limited nature of relations between communities and
groups. The role of clothing in identification changed, however, as
relations with the outside world became more pronounced and especially
as conscious efforts were made to incorporate Irianese into the Dutch
colonial state, Christian religions, and, finally, the Indonesian
state. The initial rather crude efforts by the Dutch and Indonesians
to assimilate the Irianese into their respective states included
attention to dress that assigned considerable symbolic importance to
what people wore. From the perspective of the individual Irianese, the
situation was one of increasing complexity as more choices became
available when deciding what to wear and as questions of identity
became more complex.
In recent years, missionaries and government officials have come to
place less importance on forcing people to change their dress at a
time when such changes have taken place as a result of informal
cultural and economic influences. Irianese continue to have a strong
sense of highly localized identity, while abandoning many of the
material trappings of such an identity. This is especially true of the
growing Irianese elite and middle class which have left behind the
lifestyle associated with such material culture, but retain important
social and emotional links with their ethnolinguistic group. It is to
this population that batik Irian has shown itself to have a particular
appeal. Its functional utility is enhanced by the fact that batik
Irian allows them safely to identify with the Indonesian state while
at the same time expressing their Irianese identity.
One thing that is especially striking about the traditional dance
competitions is the enthusiasm of the participants both back in the
village when getting ready and during the competition. This can partly
be explained by the fact that the event is exciting and a lot of fun.
But there may be more to it than this. There is a "bread and circuses"
aspect to the competition in that it certainly is a diversion from the
many difficulties faced by these communities in recent years because
of the political situation in Irian Jaya and the pressures of rapid
change. In the face of such difficulties, dressing up in traditional
costumes and going off for a big party promotes a sense of security
associated with positive aspects of life in the past as well as an
opportunity to enjoy oneself and forget one's troubles. The
traditional dress worn for these competitions seems to serve more as a
security blanket than as a form of resistance.
NOTES
This article is a revised version of a paper presented at the 1996
annual meeting of the American Anthropological Association, San
Francisco, California. Research for the article was conducted while
working as a short-term adviser for the Eastern Indonesia University
Development Project (EIUDP) between 1991 and 1997 funded by the
Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA). I would like to
thank Naffi Sanggenafa of Universitas Cenderawasih and John Moore of
EIUDP for their assistance with my research in Irian Jaya and Robyn
Roper for her comments on the original paper.
(1.) See, for example, Hendrickson (1995) and various chapters in
Schevil, Blum, and Dwyer (1996). Both works note how, despite many
changes, dress remains an important marker of ethnic and geographical
identity among ethnic minorities in Latin America.
(2.) The re-introduction of dress into anthropological writing is
commonly associated with the publication of Cloth and the Human
Experience (edited by Weiner and Schneider) in 1989. The focus of the
book is on gender and status, although chapters by Bernard Cohn on
clothing in colonial India and Louise Allison Cort on traditional
Okinawan textiles do discuss aspects of ethnic identity. Southeast
Asia is ignored for the most part in the book. Eicher's Dress and
Ethnicity (1995a), which offers a number of case studies focusing on
dress in a variety of settings, contains only one essay relating to
Southeast Asia: a chapter by Annette Lynch on Hmong in the United States.
(3.) For a contemporary discussion concerning dress of ethnic
minorities in Kachin state, see Howard (1999).
(4.) Grimes (1992) lists the following languages as having 10,000 or
more speakers: Central and Yaosakor Asmat (53,000); Awyu (18,000);
Biak (100,000); Damal (14,000, including Amungme); Lower Grand Valley,
Mid-Grand Valley, and Western Dani (300,000); Ekari (100,000, also
known as Kapauku); Hatam (12,000); Kaeti (10,000); Northern and
Southern Kati (12,000); Mai Brat (20,000); Mantion (12,000); Meah
10,000; Moni (25,000); Nduga (10,000); Ngalum (10,000); Sentani
(25,000); Wolani (10,000); Angguruk and Ninia Yali (50,000); Taqay
(10,000); and Yonggom (17,000).
(5.) MacKenzie (1991, p. 193) remarks about the Telefol, that "men
grow their own penis gourds using stones to train the gourds to the
desired shape. Much like western clothes the forms of these gourds can
be seen to reflect personality".
(6.) Van Nunen's account of Moni male costume (1973, pp. 15-16) makes
several references to differences in dress that reflect relative
status or wealth such as the loin cushion and a wig adorned with
rodent bones.
(7.) MacKenzie (1991, pp. 34-35, 137, 139) provides a survey of the
distribution of string bag types among the Mountain Ok people of Papua
New Guinea. Unfortunately, such a survey that would allow analysis of
the relationship between string bag styles of ethnolinguistic identity
in Irian Jaya has yet to be conducted.
(8.) Kooijman (1963, pp. 119, 121-22) devotes only a few pages to
Irian Jaya in his survey of Indonesian barkcloth. Elmberg (1968, pp.
163-69) describes and illustrates barkcloth from the Bird's Head
Peninsula, while Kooijman (1984, pp. 94-100) describes and illustrates
Kamoro barkcloth.
(9.) It is possible to view the dress and textile traditions of the
Austronesian peoples of New Guinea (and the Pacific islands to the
east) as part of a very early Austronesian tradition reflecting the
earliest voyages into the region, while the dress and textile
traditions to the west in Indonesia are part of a later tradition
associated with trade and cultural links between the islands and a
Tai-based Dongson culture in northern Vietnam.
(10.) Kain timur comes from many parts of Indonesia and includes batik
from Java as well as woven cloth from many of the eastern islands. I
review kain timur in Howard (1995). See also Elmberg (1968), Haenen
(1991), Miedema (1984), Pouwer (1957), Sanggenafa (1984, 1990), and
Schoorl (1979).
(11.) The discussion of new kain timur is based on Howard (1995); and
see Poli, Manalip, and Wenehen (1997).
(12.) The account of the barkcloth revival is drawn largely from
Howard (1996).
(13.) The Gereja Kristen Injil de Irian Jaya (Evangelical Christian
Church of Irian Jaya) runs the Pusat Pengembangan dan Penbinan Wanita
(Centre for Women's Development) or "P3W" which sells a variety of
handicrafts from Ambai, Sentani, around Jayapura, and other locales.
P3W has also played a minor role in promoting barkcloth painting. It
has sold cards with barkcloth on front featuring stencilled Irian
designs since the early 1990s and in 1996 began selling larger maro
paintings.
(14.) Rutherford (1996, p. 592) discusses recent yospan competitions
on Biak, in which dancers must wear tradition-oriented costumes and
remarks that, although the dancers are from Biak-Numfor, inspiration
for the costumes often comes from elsewhere in Irian Jaya.
(15.) In many parts of eastern Indonesia where there is a tradition of
warp ikatweaving, in recent years neo-traditional clothing made from
warp ikat patterned cloth has come to be worn by civil servants
instead of batik patterned cloth (Molnar 1998, pp. 48, 50).
(16.) The links between the Sentani and Asmat peoples are explored
briefly by Voorhoeve (1969), who argues that "some sort of historical
connection is strongly suggested" (p. 466) on the basis of the
dualistic structure of their society, the recitation of
wailing-weeping sacred songs, public recitations of the heroic deeds
of great men at their deaths, some apparently common myths, their
highly developed art of woodcarving featuring certain seemingly common
elements, and linguistic association within the Central and South New
Guinea Phylum of languages. Such a heritage, of course, does not imply
that the Sentani speakers were the ancestors of the Asmat, only that
they share a common past.
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Michael C. Howard is Professor in the Department of Sociology and
Anthropology at Simon Fraser University, Canada.
--
E-mail: papuandiary@
Blogs : http://papuandiary.
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