11 Kopassus Members Admit to Attacking Sleman Prison
Jakarta - Head of the TNI Army Investigation team for the Sleman Prison attack, Brigadier General Unggul Yudhoyono said that 11 members of the Special Forces Command (Kopassus) have admitted their involvement in the attack of Cebongan Penitentiary in Sleman and the killing of the four "thugs", in the first day of the investigation.
"The members felt they were indebted to Santoso because he assisted them during operation," Unggul said on Thursday, April 4. "They were very responsive and responsible, admitting their actions on the first day of the investigation," he added.
Of the 11 personnel, one man with the initials U acted as the instigator. Eight other personnel supported the plan while the remaining two tried to prevent their colleagues.
On Saturday morning two weeks ago, Cebongan Penitentiary in Sleman, Yogyakarta, was raided by dozens of men armed with rifles, pistols, and grenades. They broke through the prison gates, took guards as hostages and shot four inmates dead.
The inmates were suspects of a scuffle at Hugo's Cafe, which resulted in the death of First Sergeant Santoso, a Kopassus member.
What actually happened in Cebongan prison?
On Good Friday, March 29, Army chief of staff Gen. Pramono Edhie Wibowo gave a rare press conference at the historic Army headquarters, which is located on the corner of Jl. Medan Merdeka Utara and Jl. Segara. Up until the mid-1950s, it was the Dutch army headquarters where the two general offensives against the Republic of Indonesia were prepared.
Pramono convened the meeting on the public holiday in order to underline the urgency of the matter to be discussed: the commando-style raid on a prison in Cebongan, Sleman regency, Yogyakarta. Four detainees were killed execution-style: Johanes Juan Manbait, Gamaliel Yeremianto Rohi Riwu, Adrianus Candra Galaja and Hendrik Angel Sahetapy, alias Deki. The raid occurred on Saturday morning, March 23. The four detainees had been accused of killing Sgt. Heru Santoso, a former Army’s Special Forces (Kopassus) member in a fight at Hugo’s cafe in the Sleman area.
Police observers reported that 17 persons took part in the raid, all wearing masks except for two persons — one who knocked at the entrance gate and another who held a stopwatch to monitor the duration of the raid. The entire operation was completed within 15 minutes.
The weapons carried by the assailants were identified as possibly being AK-47s, FN pistols and hand grenades.
This latest blatant violation of the law by what seemed to be military-trained men was a crowning event of a series of recent clashes involving military and police personnel. These incidents have created a sense of instability and lawlessness. No wonder President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono made a forthright statement through spokesperson Daniel Sparringa three days after the raid.
The President rightly considered the execution-style killings as a direct attack on the state’s authority. In his instructions to National Police chief Gen. Timur Pradopo, Yudhoyono ordered a thorough investigation, the arrest and the legal prosecution of the perpetrators.
This is such a tough presidential instruction given the rife speculation that it was highly probable that the assailants were military personnel given the precision displayed. Diponegoro Military Commander Maj. Gen. Hardiono Saroso overseeing Central Java and Yogyakarta strongly denied the speculation. In a statement, he guaranteed that no military personnel under his command could possibly have taken part in the Sleman raid. He also stated that AK-47s were no longer used by the military.
One can only guess whether the general was dallying in double-talk, considering the rife speculation that commandos, dressed in civilian clothing, were most likely involved. It is well-known that a Kopassus forward base (Group II) is located in Kartasura, near Surakarta, less than a two-hour drive from Sleman.
Technically Hardiono was not lying, since operationally special commandos are not directly under his command, but receive operational instructions from the Kopassus headquarters in Cijantung, south of Jakarta. And the Kopassus commander reports directly to the Army chief. That’s why Pramono in his Good Friday press conference defended the Central Java regional commander by saying that based on incomplete information at that time, Hardiono had to issue a clear statement in order to ensure regional order and security.
As is the case with special commandos in a number of countries, the Indonesian red berets have a colorful history. Pramono’s late father, Lt. Gen. Sarwo Edhie Wibowo, was commander of the red berets in 1965 and 1966 and a popular figure among the anti-communist student movement. Gen. Soeharto used Sarwo Edhie’s red berets as an effective instrument in neutralizing remnants of the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) after their clumsy grab for power in early October 1965.
The commando unit was established in mid-1952 by the illustrious Col. Alex Kawilarang, commander of the West Java Siliwangi division. (He came from a family steeped in military tradition. His father, Maj. Kawilarang, was one of the few Indonesians who reached that rank in the Dutch East Indies Army, KNIL). Alex himself graduated from the Royal Military Academy in Bandung on the eve of the Japanese invasion in February 1942.
In order to establish security and order in West Java and overcome the increasing vicious attacks by the Darul Islam movement, which was determined to establish an Islamic state, Col. Kawilarang decided to establish a commando unit specializing in anti-guerilla operations. Given its long history and significant role during crucial moments of Indonesian modern politico-military history (to mention just two events: the daring airborne operation in Pekanbaru, Riau, to neutralize the proclaimed counter government in West Sumatra, the PRRI, in February 1958; and the 1965/1966 operations to neutralize the PKI) and Pramono’s personal attachment as a former Kopassus commander, obviously he had to perform a balancing act during the Good Friday press conference. We would like to compliment him for his skillful performance.
On the one hand, he stated forthrightly that the Republic of Indonesia is a law-based state. “Everybody has to respect the law”. “Trust us. Scrutinize us. We will be transparent. I pledge, whoever is proven guilty will be punished — whoever is clearly innocent will be defended. Now is the time to be transparent.” Such strong words from the Army chief. Now we are waiting to see whether all those lofty words will be acted upon.
Everywhere, including in democratic countries, gaps are always noticeable between strong and clear statements delivered by their leaders and concrete actions implementing those statements.
However, it is saddening to observe, in the closing years of President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono’s administration, how that gap is noticeably becoming ever wider. “Trust”, which Gen. Pramono Edhie Wibowo so keenly expected from the public, is indeed becoming a rare commodity.
The formation of an Army investigative panel announced during the Good Friday press conference already creates doubts on its efficacy. It is headed by the deputy commander of the military police, with the eight other members representing the Diponegoro Military Command, the subregional command, the local sectorial command, and last but certainly not least, the Army’s Special Forces (Kopassus). Initial responses from various civil society organizations have been quite positive, but one also notices among the public the keenness to see a concrete result in a short time.
Indeed, Yudhoyono in a Cabinet meeting on Monday again expressed his clear stance that the investigative efforts regarding the prison raid at Cebongan should be “transparent” and “accountable”. He said he would support the separate investigations by the Yogyakarta provincial police and by the Army headquarters.
And herein lies the problem. There are now at least three investigations going on. Besides the two mentioned, the National Commission on Human Rights (Komnas HAM) is conducting its own investigation. Its chairperson, Siti Noor Laila, is quite ambitious in outlining the commission’s working agenda.
She said she intended to summon the Diponegoro Military Commander, the subregional commander and others. “We will not visit the officials related to this case individually. We will call them to appear before the commission.”
Pramono has diplomatically welcomed the rights commission’s investigative efforts. “However, there are established procedures that should be followed before a military officer is allowed to appear before the commissioner,” the general stated in his Good Friday press conference. One can sense that efforts are in the pipeline, in case, for instance, the commission summon the commander of the Kopassus’ Group II. It’s only logical that the commission would like to find out what sort of movement was recorded on March 13.
Frankly, we are skeptical whether all these investigations will produce the results expected by an anxious public despite the lofty pledges by the President and the Army chief. Differing goals, as pursued by at least the three investigations, will hamper thorough efforts to tackle the roots of the problem.
The Army headquarters’ investigative panel is too incestuous in its make up in which at the end of the day rank will be a determining factor. Let us assume, for discussion sake, that commandos were involved based on records and evidence. Will the Army headquarters’ investigative panel recommend the demotion of the Kartasura-based commander? Or will it “sacrifice” a mere sergeant to protect the reputation of the red berets, especially after prominent former Kopassus commanders appealed to Pramono that he should never forget his red beret roots. The pseudo-tribal culture tends to be pervasive among elite military units.
And the police? As a matter of fact, the Yogyakarta provincial police have plenty of relevant material related to the Cebongan raid, but for obvious reasons — weakened after recent revelations of mind-boggling corruption cases — are reluctant to be “transparent” and “accountable” as instructed by the President to whom the National
Police are accountable. After becoming aware of relevant materials circulating in the social media, the police are apparently conducting a sort of psychological warfare by indirectly releasing some of the data available to shape public opinion to their advantage.
The lame duck in this Cebongan drama is the National Commission on Human Rights. It does seem courageous its intention to summon military officials to be intensely interviewed regarding the facts surrounding the Cebongan prison raid. Alas, due to recent internal bickering, the commission has lost considerable weight and prestige. It is not so difficult to predict that its efforts will be stonewalled by all sorts of bureaucratic red-tape.
Most probably, the commission will then publicly complain that the military and the police are being uncooperative and do not respect the basic right of the Indonesian people to learn what actually happen that made blatant cold-blooded murder possible. Consequently, the overall relations between the ruling elite and the public will sour. The “trust” that Pramono is so anxious to seek will remain elusive.
What then needs to be done? The President should set up a national commission on law enforcement related to the Cebongan case. A presidential decree should be issued outlining its mandate and specific tasks. Prominent civil society leaders should be asked to serve, such as Adnan Buyung Nasution (former member of the Presidential Advisory Body), Todung Mulya Lubis (a prominent human rights lawyer), Azyumardi Azra (Muslim scholar from Syarif Hidayatullah Islamic State University) and Mahfud MD (former chief of the Constitutional Court). In order to ensure a level of linkage to the center of power, probably it would be tactical to appoint the coordinating political, legal and security affairs minister and Air chief Marshall (ret.) Djoko Suyanto as the panel chairpersons.
The three existing bodies should complete their investigative tasks. The national commission on law enforcement related to the Cebongan case could benefit from their findings. But it would have to submit its own recommendations.
What is at stake here is safeguarding public trust in state governance in order to prevent social anarchy. That’s why a piecemeal approach in tackling the Cebongan case is so woefully inadequate.
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Selasa, 09 April 2013
Minggu, 07 April 2013
The World's Most Hardest Way To Go To School
Students hold on to the side steel bars of a collapsed bridge as they cross a river to get to school at Sanghiang Tanjung village in Lebak regency, Indonesia's Banten village January 19, 2012. Flooding from the Ciberang river broke a pillar supporting the suspension bridge, which was built in 2001, on Monday according to Epi Sopian the head of Sanghiang Tanjung village. Sofiah, a student crossing the bridge, says she will need to walk for an extra 30 minutes if she were to take a detour through another bridge.
Elementary school boys carry their shoes and bags after crossing a river to go to school in the village of Nagari Koto Nan Tigo in Indonesia's West Sumatra province November 14, 2012. School children from around 46 families in the village are forced to cross the river every day because there is no bridge, villagers said.
Students cycle through the haze-blanketed town of Sampit, in Indonesia's Central Kalimantan province September 28, 2012. The haze that blanketed Sampit is believed to have originated from forest fires and land clearing for plantation use by residents, local media reported.
Elementary school girls cross a river to go to school in the village of Nagari Koto Nan Tigo in Indonesia's West Sumatra province November 14, 2012. School children from around 46 families in the village are forced to cross the river every day because there is no bridge, villagers said.
Elementary school boys carry their shoes and bags after crossing a river to go to school in the village of Nagari Koto Nan Tigo in Indonesia's West Sumatra province November 14, 2012. School children from around 46 families in the village are forced to cross the river every day because there is no bridge, villagers said.
Students cycle through the haze-blanketed town of Sampit, in Indonesia's Central Kalimantan province September 28, 2012. The haze that blanketed Sampit is believed to have originated from forest fires and land clearing for plantation use by residents, local media reported.
Elementary school girls cross a river to go to school in the village of Nagari Koto Nan Tigo in Indonesia's West Sumatra province November 14, 2012. School children from around 46 families in the village are forced to cross the river every day because there is no bridge, villagers said.
By:
Unknown
On 23.02
Senin, 18 Maret 2013
The Angel from Central Java
Lo Siaw Ging: Doctoring to the rich and poor
Lo Siaw Ging, usually called Doctor Lo, is a physician of Chinese descent in Surakarta, Central Java.
The 78-year-old man is popular not only for his correct diagnoses and effective medicine, but also for requiring no fixed fees.
Every day except Sunday, dozens of patients pack his waiting room. They come from all walks of life: pedicab drivers, sidewalk vendors, factory workers, private employees, civil servants and businesspeople. They also include patients from surrounding towns.
Dr. Lo is special for making no distinction between treating the rich and the poor. He is even annoyed if a patient insists on paying if under financial constraints.
Lo also helps the poor pay for the medicine he prescribes by asking the relevant pharmacy to collect his bills monthly.
He does the same for inpatients at the hospital where he works, Kasih Ibu Hospital. Consequently, Lo has to pay bills worth Rp 8 million (US$860) to 10 million monthly. If the cost of treatment is large enough, like in the case of surgery, he seeks donors who are prepared to contribute anonymously.
“Fortunately many people still trust me,” he said. In the eyes of disadvantaged citizens, Lo is indeed seen as an angel of rescue. He defies the logic of medical charges going beyond the financial capacity of the poor. What he’s doing seems to challenge the current witticism, “The poor must not get sick.”
“I know which patients can afford to pay and which ones can’t. Why should they pay for doctor’s fees only to be unable to buy rice later? Their children should be pitied if they get underfed,” he pointed out.
Speaking in a firm and exacting tone, Lo frequently admonishes his patients for trivializing their complaints. Once, he became angry at a housewife who took her child to him after running a temperature for four days.
“So far many people have retained such an attitude. Illness can’t be relieved without cure so one has to see the doctor immediately. Self-diagnosis should be avoided,” he said.
Yet Lo is loved by many and remains a top medical reference of the have-nots. On the other hand, the graduate of Surabaya’s Airlangga University feels what he has been doing is nothing special and thus needs no exaggeration.
“It’s the duty of physicians to help their patients recover by whatever means. I’m only helping people in need of medical assistance. There’s nothing unusual about that,” noted the doctor, who practices at his residence in Kampung Jagalan, Solo.
Born in Magelang on Aug. 16, 1934, Lo was brought up by a family in the tobacco business. His parents, Lo Ban Tjiang and Liem Hwat Nio, allowed their children freedom to choose what they wanted to be. So Lo attended high school in Semarang, for the same school in Magelang was considered inferior.
After high school, he revealed his interest in studying medicine, to which his father responded by advising him that becoming a doctor and doing business wouldn’t go together well. Lo interpreted the advice to mean that a doctor shouldn’t merely pursue material gain because of the main duty to help people in need.
“Whoever comes here, poor or rich, deserves proper service. Helping people should never show discrimination and the entire work should be done with sincerity. The medical profession helps the sick instead of selling drugs,” he said.
A doctor since 1963, Lo started his career at a polyclinic, Tsi Sheng Yuan, owned by Dr. Oen Boen Ing (1903-1982), a famous physician in Solo. During the New Order, the polyclinic became Panti Kosala Hospital, which is now Dr. Oen Hospital.
Besides his father’s guidance, Lo said he learned a lot from Dr. Oen while working with the man for 15 years. “He wasn’t just a brilliant doctor but also had a high sense of modesty and charity,” recalled the former director of Kasih Ibu Hospital.
His principle of helping people in need was also proven during a critical time. When the anti-
Chinese riots of May 1998 broke out, Lo continued his practice despite his neighbors’ warning of the dangerous situation, particularly for citizens of Chinese descent, prompting them to watch over the doctor’s home.
“Lots of people needed help, including riot victims, how could I reject them? If all physicians had stopped practicing, who would have treated the patients?” asked Lo,.
Until the rioting ended and the situation returned to normal, Lo’s residence remained undisturbed. In fact, many of the houses in the vicinity had been looted and burned down by rioters.
Now nearing the age of 80, Lo still practices daily from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m. at home, and sees his patients from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. at Kasih Ibu. After a two-hour pause, he again opens his home practice until 8 p.m.
“As long as I’m strong enough, I’m not thinking of retiring yet. A doctor will only retire when nothing can be done. My service gives me satisfaction that no money can buy,” said the physician, who has for the last few years used a walking stick.
According to Lo, his wife has had a major role in boosting his career. Without her encouragement, said Lo, he wouldn’t have been able to succeed the way he has. “She is a wonderful woman. I’m lucky to be her spouse,” said Lo about the woman he married in 1968.
In the profession for decades, once even directing a big hospital, Lo has continued to live a modest life with his wife in an old house that is relatively the same as when it was built, except for some new paint. It’s not an imposing and storied mansion like most doctors’ residences either.
“This house is big enough for us both. If I earn more, let it be shared with those in dire need. We just want to live properly. I’m very grateful to be able to reach my age, meaning more opportunity to help others,” added Lo, whose 43-year marriage to Gan May Kwee has been childless.
With expensive drugs, frequently unsatisfactory hospital service and mostly materialistic doctors, the presence of Lo is indeed like refreshing dewdrops. Only a few physicians like Dr. Lo can be found today.
Lo Siaw Ging, usually called Doctor Lo, is a physician of Chinese descent in Surakarta, Central Java.
The 78-year-old man is popular not only for his correct diagnoses and effective medicine, but also for requiring no fixed fees.
Every day except Sunday, dozens of patients pack his waiting room. They come from all walks of life: pedicab drivers, sidewalk vendors, factory workers, private employees, civil servants and businesspeople. They also include patients from surrounding towns.
Dr. Lo is special for making no distinction between treating the rich and the poor. He is even annoyed if a patient insists on paying if under financial constraints.
Lo also helps the poor pay for the medicine he prescribes by asking the relevant pharmacy to collect his bills monthly.
He does the same for inpatients at the hospital where he works, Kasih Ibu Hospital. Consequently, Lo has to pay bills worth Rp 8 million (US$860) to 10 million monthly. If the cost of treatment is large enough, like in the case of surgery, he seeks donors who are prepared to contribute anonymously.
“Fortunately many people still trust me,” he said. In the eyes of disadvantaged citizens, Lo is indeed seen as an angel of rescue. He defies the logic of medical charges going beyond the financial capacity of the poor. What he’s doing seems to challenge the current witticism, “The poor must not get sick.”
“I know which patients can afford to pay and which ones can’t. Why should they pay for doctor’s fees only to be unable to buy rice later? Their children should be pitied if they get underfed,” he pointed out.
Speaking in a firm and exacting tone, Lo frequently admonishes his patients for trivializing their complaints. Once, he became angry at a housewife who took her child to him after running a temperature for four days.
“So far many people have retained such an attitude. Illness can’t be relieved without cure so one has to see the doctor immediately. Self-diagnosis should be avoided,” he said.
Yet Lo is loved by many and remains a top medical reference of the have-nots. On the other hand, the graduate of Surabaya’s Airlangga University feels what he has been doing is nothing special and thus needs no exaggeration.
“It’s the duty of physicians to help their patients recover by whatever means. I’m only helping people in need of medical assistance. There’s nothing unusual about that,” noted the doctor, who practices at his residence in Kampung Jagalan, Solo.
Born in Magelang on Aug. 16, 1934, Lo was brought up by a family in the tobacco business. His parents, Lo Ban Tjiang and Liem Hwat Nio, allowed their children freedom to choose what they wanted to be. So Lo attended high school in Semarang, for the same school in Magelang was considered inferior.
After high school, he revealed his interest in studying medicine, to which his father responded by advising him that becoming a doctor and doing business wouldn’t go together well. Lo interpreted the advice to mean that a doctor shouldn’t merely pursue material gain because of the main duty to help people in need.
“Whoever comes here, poor or rich, deserves proper service. Helping people should never show discrimination and the entire work should be done with sincerity. The medical profession helps the sick instead of selling drugs,” he said.
A doctor since 1963, Lo started his career at a polyclinic, Tsi Sheng Yuan, owned by Dr. Oen Boen Ing (1903-1982), a famous physician in Solo. During the New Order, the polyclinic became Panti Kosala Hospital, which is now Dr. Oen Hospital.
Besides his father’s guidance, Lo said he learned a lot from Dr. Oen while working with the man for 15 years. “He wasn’t just a brilliant doctor but also had a high sense of modesty and charity,” recalled the former director of Kasih Ibu Hospital.
His principle of helping people in need was also proven during a critical time. When the anti-
Chinese riots of May 1998 broke out, Lo continued his practice despite his neighbors’ warning of the dangerous situation, particularly for citizens of Chinese descent, prompting them to watch over the doctor’s home.
“Lots of people needed help, including riot victims, how could I reject them? If all physicians had stopped practicing, who would have treated the patients?” asked Lo,.
Until the rioting ended and the situation returned to normal, Lo’s residence remained undisturbed. In fact, many of the houses in the vicinity had been looted and burned down by rioters.
Now nearing the age of 80, Lo still practices daily from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m. at home, and sees his patients from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. at Kasih Ibu. After a two-hour pause, he again opens his home practice until 8 p.m.
“As long as I’m strong enough, I’m not thinking of retiring yet. A doctor will only retire when nothing can be done. My service gives me satisfaction that no money can buy,” said the physician, who has for the last few years used a walking stick.
According to Lo, his wife has had a major role in boosting his career. Without her encouragement, said Lo, he wouldn’t have been able to succeed the way he has. “She is a wonderful woman. I’m lucky to be her spouse,” said Lo about the woman he married in 1968.
In the profession for decades, once even directing a big hospital, Lo has continued to live a modest life with his wife in an old house that is relatively the same as when it was built, except for some new paint. It’s not an imposing and storied mansion like most doctors’ residences either.
“This house is big enough for us both. If I earn more, let it be shared with those in dire need. We just want to live properly. I’m very grateful to be able to reach my age, meaning more opportunity to help others,” added Lo, whose 43-year marriage to Gan May Kwee has been childless.
With expensive drugs, frequently unsatisfactory hospital service and mostly materialistic doctors, the presence of Lo is indeed like refreshing dewdrops. Only a few physicians like Dr. Lo can be found today.
By:
Unknown
On 21.03
Learn The Business from The Djarum Group Indonesia
The Hartonos Run The Djarum Group on Sound Principles
The Hartonos (Chinese-Indonesian) Run The Djarum Group on Sound Principles
Victor Hartono (Chinese-Indonesian) got to know PT Djarum’s business at a young age.
THE cigarette lighted by Victor Hartono looks like a sparkling flambeau, all the more so because of the kretek, the crackling sound it makes. The Djarum brand, like most Indonesian cigarettes, crackles when puffed. Victor wears the Djarum Group’s uniform with the Djarum logo, just like any other employee, even though he is the chief operating officer and the empire was founded by his grandfather.
His perfect English is a rarity in a country where English is a second language. That’s because his father Budi Hartono studied in a Dutch school where English was mandatory and wanted his children to master the language, which was hardly taught in local schools those days. Budi would make his children read English books and magazines aloud to give them a good grounding.
Budi knew he would have to rely on his children to run his group of companies one day. So, he sent them to the best schools in Indonesia and abroad. Victor went to the University of California to study mechanical engineering. After a few years, he took up business administration at the Kellogg School of Management, Northwestern University.
Being the eldest son, Victor got to know PT Djarum’s business at a very young age. “It came naturally to me, something that we talked about every day. I would go to the office often and play with the charts, which were like Lego blocks.” He was barely 12 when he used go to the then small office, one block away from where he sits today. “Many employees whom I had seen when I was small are still here.”
Victor comes from a line of well-to-do ancestors. His grandfather Oei Wie Gwan started his conglomerate selling firecrackers called Cap Leo. He ran a factory which made firecrackers in Rembang in central Java in 1925 and made sure he left a legacy for his future generations.
“My great-grandfather and grandfather were together in the business which was their main source of income. When the Japanese took over Indonesia, they closed down all the firecracker manufacturing companies because of the usage of gunpowder,” adds Victor. “Till today, there is no company which legally produces firecrackers in Indonesia.”
After World War II was over, Victor’s grandfather moved to Kudus city in central Java in 1951. The city is known as the home of kretek cigarette manufacturing. Victor’s grandfather started his empire from here, producing cigarettes enjoyed by Indonesians nationwide.
In the 1960s, when Indonesia suffered a food crisis and people had to queue up for food, Victor remembers his father and uncle Bambang enjoying a comfortable lifestyle with no dearth.
When Oei died, the company was handled by Budi and Bambang, who ran it together since 1963. The warm relationship between the two brothers has made PT Djarum worth an estimated US$2bil. “Ever since I can remember, our company has been one of the largest producers of cigarettes in Indonesia.”
Decision-makers
Though Victor’s father and uncle are not involved in the daily operations of the company now, they are still the major decision-makers.
“I have learned a lot of things from them,” Victor says. “Like there should be a lot of give and take – communication and clarifications – to avoid misunderstandings. My father and uncle do not rely on soothsayers, feng shui or black magic. Everything is based on rational decision-making.”
Though tycoons, Budi and Bambang are known to live a life of simplicity. Both enjoy eating the famous Indonesian dish soto (soup) on the roadside. They keep a low profile, dress simply and maintain good rapport with their employees. Most of the employees have been loyal and stayed on with the company, some for nearly 40 years.
“My dad and uncle are simple men who are not flamboyant. They do not seek fame and love to work. They are quiet men who persevere when a problem is thrown at them. I hope I can be like them one day.”
Although Victor is given the responsibility of running PT Djarum, his two brothers and four cousins are stakeholders in the group. “We want a common bright future together, the stakeholders and employees. The focus is on enlarging the pie.”
A bachelor at the age of 40, Victor spends most of his time on the business and the group’s charitable foundation. He is the president director of the Djarum Foundation, having taken over from his father. The foundation is PT Djarum’s corporate social responsibility arm, seeking to foster “excellence through community, sport, environmental conservation, educational and cultural expression programmes”.
It has sponsored plays and musicals depicting the Indonesian culture – and free cataract operations for the needy. Millions of trees have been planted to support the go-green environment policy. Over 500 scholarships are handed to students annually in 83 schools. Since November 1984, a total of 7,777 scholarships were awarded in 98 universities. Funds are also allocated for the construction of school buildings.
Victor shares his father’s passion for badminton. In 1969, his father established the Djarum Badminton Club which Victor runs now. It was while watching the 1984 Thomas Cup tournament that he developed a love for the game. Indonesia won the cup and seven out of the eight players were from the Djarum Badminton Club. Watching the players from his company’s club inspired Victor to make badminton a sport for life.
“Badminton is the only sport where Indonesia has reached world class (status). We have competed sustainably for a long time.”
However, he rues that things have been changing over the years with electronic gadgets ruling people’s lives. The upsurge of television soaps in the early 90s diverted the attention of the younger crowd. This was followed by the birth of the social media in early 2000. The lack of motivation has slowed the achievement level of the badminton players.
Victor says that in the past, an estimated 40 million Indonesians were active players. “It was easy to select (a team) from 40 million players. But if there are only five million players, then we have a problem,” he chuckles. Despite Indonesia’s declining badminton triumph, the Djarum Foundation intends to continue producing champions.
“We want to help Indonesia to fulfill its promise as a well-rounded super power. It is to fulfill the destiny Indonesia should have,” he says. “Our country shouldn’t be only a good supplier of coal, gas, energy and oil. We should also excel in sports, education and (protecting) our environment.”
“The nature of our programme is based on giving a chance to talented people regardless of their background. Even if they are rich kids, (if they) are good (at) playing badminton, we will help them to become world champions. We train kids from the age of 11-19 for free.
“We are biased towards the talented.”
The Djarum Foundation’s future project will focus on providing clean water with investment in facilities to purify water. “Clean water is still a major issue in this country despite its independence 67 years ago,” Victor says.
Victor’s convictions behind running the company and the foundation are based on ancient Confucian teachings. He says: “Your goal in life is not going to heaven but creating a better world by bringing peace on earth. You can achieve this by helping yourself, your family, your surroundings, and your country. (By doing so) you help the world.
“I am a de facto Confucian follower.”
The Hartonos (Chinese-Indonesian) Run The Djarum Group on Sound Principles
Victor Hartono (Chinese-Indonesian) got to know PT Djarum’s business at a young age.
THE cigarette lighted by Victor Hartono looks like a sparkling flambeau, all the more so because of the kretek, the crackling sound it makes. The Djarum brand, like most Indonesian cigarettes, crackles when puffed. Victor wears the Djarum Group’s uniform with the Djarum logo, just like any other employee, even though he is the chief operating officer and the empire was founded by his grandfather.
His perfect English is a rarity in a country where English is a second language. That’s because his father Budi Hartono studied in a Dutch school where English was mandatory and wanted his children to master the language, which was hardly taught in local schools those days. Budi would make his children read English books and magazines aloud to give them a good grounding.
Budi knew he would have to rely on his children to run his group of companies one day. So, he sent them to the best schools in Indonesia and abroad. Victor went to the University of California to study mechanical engineering. After a few years, he took up business administration at the Kellogg School of Management, Northwestern University.
Being the eldest son, Victor got to know PT Djarum’s business at a very young age. “It came naturally to me, something that we talked about every day. I would go to the office often and play with the charts, which were like Lego blocks.” He was barely 12 when he used go to the then small office, one block away from where he sits today. “Many employees whom I had seen when I was small are still here.”
Victor comes from a line of well-to-do ancestors. His grandfather Oei Wie Gwan started his conglomerate selling firecrackers called Cap Leo. He ran a factory which made firecrackers in Rembang in central Java in 1925 and made sure he left a legacy for his future generations.
“My great-grandfather and grandfather were together in the business which was their main source of income. When the Japanese took over Indonesia, they closed down all the firecracker manufacturing companies because of the usage of gunpowder,” adds Victor. “Till today, there is no company which legally produces firecrackers in Indonesia.”
After World War II was over, Victor’s grandfather moved to Kudus city in central Java in 1951. The city is known as the home of kretek cigarette manufacturing. Victor’s grandfather started his empire from here, producing cigarettes enjoyed by Indonesians nationwide.
In the 1960s, when Indonesia suffered a food crisis and people had to queue up for food, Victor remembers his father and uncle Bambang enjoying a comfortable lifestyle with no dearth.
When Oei died, the company was handled by Budi and Bambang, who ran it together since 1963. The warm relationship between the two brothers has made PT Djarum worth an estimated US$2bil. “Ever since I can remember, our company has been one of the largest producers of cigarettes in Indonesia.”
Decision-makers
Though Victor’s father and uncle are not involved in the daily operations of the company now, they are still the major decision-makers.
“I have learned a lot of things from them,” Victor says. “Like there should be a lot of give and take – communication and clarifications – to avoid misunderstandings. My father and uncle do not rely on soothsayers, feng shui or black magic. Everything is based on rational decision-making.”
Though tycoons, Budi and Bambang are known to live a life of simplicity. Both enjoy eating the famous Indonesian dish soto (soup) on the roadside. They keep a low profile, dress simply and maintain good rapport with their employees. Most of the employees have been loyal and stayed on with the company, some for nearly 40 years.
“My dad and uncle are simple men who are not flamboyant. They do not seek fame and love to work. They are quiet men who persevere when a problem is thrown at them. I hope I can be like them one day.”
Although Victor is given the responsibility of running PT Djarum, his two brothers and four cousins are stakeholders in the group. “We want a common bright future together, the stakeholders and employees. The focus is on enlarging the pie.”
A bachelor at the age of 40, Victor spends most of his time on the business and the group’s charitable foundation. He is the president director of the Djarum Foundation, having taken over from his father. The foundation is PT Djarum’s corporate social responsibility arm, seeking to foster “excellence through community, sport, environmental conservation, educational and cultural expression programmes”.
It has sponsored plays and musicals depicting the Indonesian culture – and free cataract operations for the needy. Millions of trees have been planted to support the go-green environment policy. Over 500 scholarships are handed to students annually in 83 schools. Since November 1984, a total of 7,777 scholarships were awarded in 98 universities. Funds are also allocated for the construction of school buildings.
Victor shares his father’s passion for badminton. In 1969, his father established the Djarum Badminton Club which Victor runs now. It was while watching the 1984 Thomas Cup tournament that he developed a love for the game. Indonesia won the cup and seven out of the eight players were from the Djarum Badminton Club. Watching the players from his company’s club inspired Victor to make badminton a sport for life.
“Badminton is the only sport where Indonesia has reached world class (status). We have competed sustainably for a long time.”
However, he rues that things have been changing over the years with electronic gadgets ruling people’s lives. The upsurge of television soaps in the early 90s diverted the attention of the younger crowd. This was followed by the birth of the social media in early 2000. The lack of motivation has slowed the achievement level of the badminton players.
Victor says that in the past, an estimated 40 million Indonesians were active players. “It was easy to select (a team) from 40 million players. But if there are only five million players, then we have a problem,” he chuckles. Despite Indonesia’s declining badminton triumph, the Djarum Foundation intends to continue producing champions.
“We want to help Indonesia to fulfill its promise as a well-rounded super power. It is to fulfill the destiny Indonesia should have,” he says. “Our country shouldn’t be only a good supplier of coal, gas, energy and oil. We should also excel in sports, education and (protecting) our environment.”
“The nature of our programme is based on giving a chance to talented people regardless of their background. Even if they are rich kids, (if they) are good (at) playing badminton, we will help them to become world champions. We train kids from the age of 11-19 for free.
“We are biased towards the talented.”
The Djarum Foundation’s future project will focus on providing clean water with investment in facilities to purify water. “Clean water is still a major issue in this country despite its independence 67 years ago,” Victor says.
Victor’s convictions behind running the company and the foundation are based on ancient Confucian teachings. He says: “Your goal in life is not going to heaven but creating a better world by bringing peace on earth. You can achieve this by helping yourself, your family, your surroundings, and your country. (By doing so) you help the world.
“I am a de facto Confucian follower.”
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Unknown
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