From Jail to Jail. Tan Malaka

along the following lines:

      1. General strike with economic demands;

      2. Strikes and demonstrations with economic and political demands;

      3. General strike and demonstrations employing arms to oppose provocation;

      4. General strike and demonstrations demanding the transfer of power;

      5. Establishment of a National Assembly;

      6. Proclamation of independence and the establishment of a provisional government;

      7. Drawing up of a constitution;

      8. Ratification of the government, ratification or alteration of the constitution, and establishment of the outlines of political policy;

      9. Establishment of a popular legislature to make laws. (Of course in practice the course taken may vary from this pattern.)

      From the general strike to the establishment of the popular legislature many different demands have to be posed and actions staged. Only when it is clear that every single demand has been achieved by the murba can the final blow be struck.

      Is it not clear that all this requires a superior and disciplined party with members in sufficient quantity and quality to give leadership to the seventy million people who are scattered throughout hundreds of islands and who will be opposed by the three largest imperialist powers in the region? Is it not demonstrable that in 1926 the Indonesian workers and peasants were not even ready to stage a general strike? How many of the PKI leaders in 1926 really understood the meaning of the demands and program to be put forward at each stage of the struggle waged by a real proletarian party?⁷⁶

      Of course in 1926, and even in 1917, I was ready to welcome the Indonesian revolution.⁷⁷ The question is, were the masses and proletariat of Indonesia also ready? This is the most crucial question. Where they are not yet ready, the only course open to a courageous leader responsible to him- or herself and to the masses is to prepare them for mass action. If it cannot be done openly, then the underground road must be taken. When the people are ready, it is the mass action course that a Communist party must take.

      [146] If there are other parties, or members of other parties who follow another course, certainly I have no objections. But I, feeling responsible to the PKI, to the people of Indonesia, and to the International, could not approve the Prambanan decision: neither back then in 1926 nor here and now in 1947. No. Even now I will not diverge from my analysis laid out in the books mentioned above, which I had outlined prior to the [proposed] Singapore conference and which was agreed to, typed up, and taken by Alimin from Manila to Singapore at the beginning of 1926.

      For over a month in Manila I awaited the cable that Alimin was to send with the results of the discussions. Not even a letter came, let alone a cable. Then I began to wonder if my proposal had been presented. Only then did I send to the Comintern a report of the Prambanan decision and my attitude opposing it. From a reliable source I later heard that my position was approved in its entirety and that the Comintern later proposed a program to the PKI that did not differ from my own.⁷⁸

      After Alimin had been gone nearly two months, a letter finally arrived. In it he reported that the discussion could not be held in Singapore. Perhaps he would join the group going to Moscow, if there were sufficient money. He said he could not write any further since there was always a comrade at his side (whose name I cannot yet disclose).⁷⁹ Apparently Alimin did not trust this comrade. Only then did I begin to be aware of what sort of honesty he had shown me. I had always thought of him as honest and respected him, but now he would no longer be a comrade-in-arms for me. If he did not trust his lifelong friend in Singapore, how could he trust me, whom he had known barely a year? This feeling was strengthened when I recalled Alimin’s testimony against his former leader Tjokroaminoto in the Afdeling B case.⁸⁰ Since this affair, I have continued to regard Alimin as a friend but as a comrade-in-arms I have doubted his honesty.

      [147] When I later arrived in Singapore, Subakat came across a sealed letter that had never been opened. Inside it were my analysis and proposals. The late Subakat and the late Sugono had heard nothing of either my analysis or my proposals brought by Alimin. Alimin had already left Singapore. Sugono, then head of the VSTP, said to Subakat that the VSTP itself was not even ready for a general strike, let alone the two or three million unorganized factory, mine, and plantation workers. So it seems that if Subakat and Sugono, who were both old Communists together with Darsono and Semaun (while Alimin had only recently joined the PKI), had had the opportunity to read my opinion they would certainly have agreed.

      So much for an explanation of Alimin’s attitude towards me at a time when the party was endangered. To Alimin, who had admitted my “weaknesses” in his book Analysis, I address the following question: Can a revolutionary party survive if its members are not honest with each other?

      As I have stated, then, it was the interests of the Indonesian movement, and specifically Alimin’s attitude towards me, that forced me to leave for Singapore in a great rush. I was forced to leave in a state of poor health, and for this reason I needed something that I have needed more than once on my travels. Previously this was a secret, but with the elimination of the office of the governor general in the Philippines and the takeover of the office by the Filipino people themselves, the secret has been let out. In brief, what I needed was a passport, but it had to be a good false passport: good in the sense that the paper and stamps were authentic, but false because the bearer would not really be a Filipino. What else could I do? In opposing imperialism, which is not based on honesty, one cannot always use honest methods, particularly when aiming to destroy that imperialism.

      It was not easy to get a passport at the governor general’s office. One needed all kinds of testimony and assurances and trickery to thwart the screening. In the end I got one, after a high-ranking Filipino official gave his surety.⁸¹

      [148] So finally a German ship that docked in Singapore in early 1926 had as a passenger one Hasan Gozali, who came from Mindanao in the Philippines. Unfortunately, or, rather, amusingly, the English passport inspector and his Malay assistant were the same ones who had not long before examined the documents of one Estahislau Rivera.⁸² Hasan Gozali and Estahislau Rivera were one and the same person. However, the similarity of the person and the difference in names did not seem to catch the attention of these officials. It was not only on these two occasions that such a discrepancy escaped the notice of the passport inspectors. In fact, the regulation of passports had many weaknesses. For someone who was calm and patient, not easily prone to give up hope and not easily taken off guard, the passport regulations were by no means insurmountable. In any event, Hasan Gozali, this writer himself, arrived safely at his destination.⁸³

Chapter 13

       ARREST AND DEPORTATION

      [149] Seen in close-up, the painting of even a skilled artist may seem unclear and unintelligible. All we see are intersecting lines and dabs of color. Only when we stand at some distance do the content, pattern, and aim of the painting become evident.

      History, enacted by human beings, has much in common with the work of an artist. When we are involved in it, being buffeted by the varied objectives of the different classes, parties, and leaders, it is hard to see the broad outlines that will ultimately define the struggle. Only when we have advanced a little and are far enough removed can we really understand the historical period we have lived through.

      I shall present some notes here which compare the atmosphere of the 1926-1927 period with that of 1946-1947. It is my hope that they will provide some pointers for those who wish to examine certain events closely from all angles. Although twenty years of peace do not usually bring many changes, the two decades during which Indonesian society experienced the Second World War and the revolution manifested major transformations.

      [150] While in 1926-1927 we were at a high point of the economic cycle, in 1946-1947 we are caught in the coils of the Dutch blockade and in the midst of the greatest world economic crisis ever seen.¹ While all the factories, workshops, plantations, transport facilities, and machines were intact and sound in 1926-1927,