Ignoring Indonesia

A typical New England drizzle had me running along Oxford Street before I set foot inside the labyrinthine Museum of Comparative Zoology. The museum is quite a world unto itself, with its desolate corridors, dusty books, and distressing posters of magnified frogs. Wandering, I soon found the Professor of Icthyology, who bid me into his office, where I was to sit my Indonesian language placement exam.

Despite blustering worldly pretensions, Harvard University does not teach the language nor culture of the world’s fourth most populous nation: Indonesia. Search the Faculty of Arts and Sciences Courses of Instruction and you emerge with three courses marginally related to the country—and not even one for the Indonesian language. We teach Bretton and Sumerian, Old Church Slavonic, and Pali— but have omitted Bengali, Javanese, Telugu, and Indonesian—which combined, are spoken by a total of 480 million people around the world. Though it’s true that Indonesia is an archipelago, we’re in trouble if the only Indonesian-speaking professor at this University is one whose specialty is fish.

This argument travels well beyond Cambridge. Since Sept. 11, it is fair to say that many Americans have appreciated their crisis in eastern-literacy—hence the national enrollment spike in Arab language courses. But note that this upsurge only stood at 11,000 students as of 2002, and crucially, such interest does not seem to have extended to other substantial areas of the Muslim world, such as Pakistan and Indonesia.

Which is a pity, because Indonesia has four characteristics that make it one of a kind: it is a secular and moderate democracy, as well as the largest Muslim country on earth. All this should make it America’s new best friend in our color-coded terror era, for the country stands on America’s side of the church-state divide, and is a prime example of Islam’s potential to adapt to the 21st century. A stronger relationship with Indonesia would send the most powerful message yet to the silent, global, Muslim majority that America has distinguished between Islam and Islamism, and stands in solidarity behind the former. This ought to be a small step towards the long-term goal of alleviating rampant anti-Americanism across the globe.

But this is all stargazing unless there is increased scholastic activity within the United States itself. Currently, there are only three universities in America that teach Indonesian literature—and Harvard is not among them. Of over 3,500 American universities, there are fewer than 20 that teach the Indonesian language. Increased diplomatic contact does not arise in a vacuum—it requires strong domestic advocates. This already exists in Indonesia—a better relationship with the last superpower has obvious, tangible benefits. In America, such contact can most easily start in our universities, with their significant base of curiosity and knowledge of the outside world. To this end, Harvard’s East Asian Languages and Civilizations Department, or even the Sanskrit and Indian Studies Department at the Faculty of Arts and Sciences ought to hire a preceptor to teach Indonesian—just one. That is all it takes; cultural understanding can arise when we begin to speak the same language.

The vast resources of this University have not extended to disseminating the culture of a nation of 240 million people—a nation quite nearly the size of the United States. This is unfortunate, and also unnecessary, considering how much we stand to benefit. But mostly, this is just shameful, since such a program exists at a certain other contemptible university—in New Haven.

Sahil K. Mahtani ’08, a Crimson editorial editor, lives in Lionel Hall.