Javanese Influence: Unpacking Yogyakarta’s Cultural Hegemony

Recently I was on Yogyakarta. And between winding my ways through the alley ways, and past the museums and other cultural icons of the kota, or town, something odd occurred to me. Yogyakarta struck me as being among the most monocultural places I’ve ever been to.

Walking down the main tourist area of Yogyakarta, Malioboro street, I couldn’t help but notice an entrance to the local Chinatown that was, let’s say, underwhelming. I decided to take a quick detour down the street and found it to be derelict. Aside from a handful of street vendors, the street was in almost total disuse. Which, given it’s close proximity to a tourist hotspot, seemed unusual.

The street vendors that I did find, were all selling the usual Bakso, Soto and other standard Javanese cuisine. Not the standard fare of what you might expect to find in a local Chinatown. I continued walking down the street to come across another traditional Chinese Paifang. However this one was boarded up, almost barricaded, complete with barbed wire. I peered over the top of a nearby fence to see what was behind and found a traditional Chinese temple. It looked as though it had not been in use for a good many years.

The rest of the ‘Chinatown’, if you could call it that, was conspicuous in it’s emptiness. No business. No shops. And pertinently, no Chinese.

On my way back to my hotel, I stopped by some local becak and andong drivers (local modes of transport) to have a quick chat about my discovery. They casually informed me that the Chinese were not really welcome in Yogayakarta, and that, to reinforce this, the Chinese were not permitted to own land in the city. I tried probing a bit more about further details but the topic seemed to be a bit sensitive. So I didn’t press the point.

What I then began to notice in the town was a total absence of almost any other cultural influences. The overwhelming majority of food outlets were geared towards local culinary preferences. Which, you might say is natural/normal given that the city is more of a local tourist destination than an international one. However, this brought me to my second epiphany about Indonesia – Indonesia is far more than just Javanese.

Indonesia is actually quite culturally diverse. With significant Christian populations in the east of the archipelago, a very well known Hindu settlement near the middle, and various unique ethnic and tribal communities across the entirety of the country. Yet in my entire time in Jogja (as Yogyakarta is locally known), I didn’t come across any of these people. Nor did they seem to be represented in any of the official histories I encountered in the various museums and places of historical importance.

Jogja was the the capital of the newly formed Indonesian republic in the mid 20th century. An area long known for it’s ardent support for a collective Indonesian state, it was well regarded as a place of nationalist zeal. The people in Jogja are a very proud people. And they’re very eager to show it. There is no shortage of locals offering to share their understanding of the history, or even give impromptu guided tours of the area. The people Jogja, much like the rest of the Indonesian archipelago, are hospitable, friendly and kind. And a lot of it, I believe, has to do with nationalism. Javanese nationalism.

Naturally, the Javanese are very pleased with the creation of their state. They fought hard for it, and are justifiably proud of their victory. There is nothing wrong with that. But as I walked around the streets of Javanese cultural icon that is Yogyakarta, I started to get the sense that maybe what I’m observing is the artefacts of unresolved social issues in the country.

The denial of Chinese to be able to own land in the city reflects this best. The local Chinese Indonesians have lived in the archipelago for almost a thousand years. A good many of them are not ‘new arrivals’ and know nothing of their ethnic homeland thousands of kilometres to the north. They know only the island of Java. But their presence, in what seems to be the cultural heartland of the Javanese people, Yogyakarta, does not appear to be welcomed.

I know there have been race relation issues in the country in the past. But what I noticed in Jogja seems to extend beyond that. It seems to be a place of pilgrimage. A spiritual homeland, and maybe even a power based for the local Javanese people. Very much a an opportunity for ‘top down’ dissemination of the Javanese culture.

It got me thinking about how far and wide the Javanese had spread across the region. They are by far the most populous demographic. But have spread beyond the boundaries of their island. Across and into Sumatra, Kalimantan, Riau Islands and into Bali, to name a few. The view among many non-Javanese Indonesians I have encountered in my travels throughout Indonesia, I have found, is that the Javanese are ‘spreading’ out across the country. Usually noted with a sort of bemused disdain. Of resigned indignance.

It brought to mind, what seemed like a fairly innocuous incident I witnessed in Bali many years ago. A group of Javanese Muslims were walking down a street when broached by a seemingly happy dog. The tourists began to fret, stress and shriek at the dog. Trying to put as much space between themselves the dog as possible. It seemed an unnatural reaction given the disposition and demeanour of the animal. Who did not display any sign of aggression or hostility whatsoever.

However what struck me most about this experience was the reaction of a local Balinese man I was standing next to. He laughed, and shook his head. Now, it could be that the Balinese man found the over the top reaction of some visitors amusing, which is quite possible. However I tend to think it goes a little deeper. As anyone who has visited Bali would know, are fairly ubiquitous around Bali. They’re everywhere. As part of the animal kingdom, to the Hindu’s, they’re worthy of respect. However in stark contrast, dogs, in the Muslim context, are filthy animals that should be avoided if possible.

It got me wondering – do the Balinese allow the local dog population to run rampant and free, in part, as a way of keeping the Javanese out of their island? As a small way by which the Balinese attempt to keep Bali for the Balinese? To resist the Javanese? The dog example was just one, and maybe I’m reading too much into it. Or maybe I’m not.


The insecurity around the Chinese in Yogyakarta, it seems, stems from a need or desire to actively suppress any sort of cultural, economic or social challengers to the might and expanse of the Javanese people. And my experience in other parts of Indonesia seems to suggest that the relationship between the Javanese and other ethnic, and cultural groups around the country are, oftentimes, tense. The Indonesians broadly, across all cultures and ethnicities, are a very social, and kind people, and are disinclined to discuss these issues outwardly. But it something I will look more into in the future.

Suffice to say, I learned a lot from my experience in Yogyakarta. I learned that Indonesia, as the world knows it, is largely Java, and the Javanese people. The physical boundaries of the country of Indonesia, is probably more accurately the remit of the Javanese ‘sphere of influence’. And perhaps rightly so. It has a multitude of social and economic benefits, not to mention beneficial implications for regional security.

But its not hard to see how these social issues may, and probably will, burble in the future.

Mark











And I make the important distinction here of ‘Javanese’, not ‘Indonesian’. Because the ‘kota’, or town, appears to be so heavily geared towards Javanese culture in terms of clothing, custom and culinary tastes. It would be hard to make the point that the ‘target market’ for the city is anyone but the Javanese.

But there is an odd if not sensitive topic.