"Let me explain, Grandfather began, "before the Dutch arrived, we, the people of this western part of Java, were perhaps more known as 'Sundanese' in the sense of 'inhabitants of the Sunda Kingdom' or 'residents of the vast Sunda land.' Or generally, we were all part of 'Nusantara,' a large archipelago. There were many communities with their own languages and customs, but the 'ethnic' consciousness as we know it now wasn't as strong."
"So, the term 'Sunda' itself becoming the name of an ethnic group as we know it today, that actually only became stronger and was deliberately emphasized when the Dutch arrived."
Grandfather took a breath. "Imagine, back then we might have felt united as part of 'Nusantara' or 'Javanese' in the general sense of being inhabitants of Java Island, or 'Malays' in Sumatra. But the Dutch, cunningly, began to compartmentalize us into different 'ethnic groups'." "They started creating categories," Grandfather continued, "there were Sundanese, Javanese, Betawi, Batak, Bugis, and so on. In reality, many of us actually had interconnected historical or cultural roots, or were just from different regions. But the Dutch deliberately highlighted those differences."
"This is one of their rotten strategies called devide et impera, Son," Grandfather emphasized. "Devide et impera is Latin, meaning 'divide and conquer' or 'the politics of pitting against each other'."
How Did the Dutch Do It?
Grandfather explained several examples of how the Dutch implemented devide et impera:
Creating New Identity Categories: They began to define and group communities based on local characteristics, language, or customs, then labeled them as 'ethnic groups'. In doing so, people felt more different from each other than they felt as one nation.
Aiding One Faction in Conflict: If there were two kingdoms or two groups in Nusantara at odds, the Dutch would not stand idly by. They would intervene, pretending to help one side. After the aided party won, they would demand large compensations, usually in the form of territory, exclusive trade rights, or recognition of their power. The most famous examples are in Java, where they interfered in the succession of the Mataram kingdom, and in Banten between Sultan Ageng Tirtayasa and his son, Sultan Haji.
Strengthening Differences, Not Similarities: They deliberately highlighted different customs, different languages, and sometimes even religious differences. They made us feel 'better' than other ethnic groups, or 'more righteous' than other groups. This created a chasm of separation and mutual suspicion.
Structuring Social Stratification: The Dutch also created social hierarchies based on race. Europeans were at the top, followed by Foreign Orientals (such as Chinese and Arabs), and then indigenous people at the lowest level. This was also their way to divide and conquer, by making some people feel inferior or superior to others.
"The point is," Grandfather concluded his explanation, "they wanted us to be busy fighting among ourselves, or busy feeling different, until we forgot that the real enemy was them. If we were divided, it would be easy for them to conquer and plunder our wealth."
I reflected on Grandfather's explanation. This was not just a historical story, but an important lesson on how identity can be manipulated and how unity can be destroyed. This knowledge further strengthened my determination to build Sundawani, not only as a business empire but also as a force that could unite, build, and restore the nation's self-esteem.
After Grandfather spoke about devide et impera and how the Dutch manipulated history, I felt this was the right moment to share some important knowledge I carried from the future. This knowledge could change Grandfather's perspective on several chapters of our history.
"Grandfather," I said one afternoon, as we were enjoying coffee on the terrace, "I want to tell you something you might not know, or even many people today don't know. This is from the future, Grandfather, about our history." Grandfather looked at me with interest. He was always enthusiastic to hear my stories that sometimes sounded illogical to him, but often proved true. "What story, Son? It must be interesting if it's from you."
"It's about the Anyer-Panarukan Road, Grandfather," I said. "We all know, and it's taught in schools, that it was a brutal forced labor project during the Dutch era, under Herman Willem Daendels. We know that many of our people died, victims of Dutch cruelty, right?"
Grandfather nodded, his expression turning serious. "That's right, Marlon. That is one of the dark stains in our history. Daendels' cruelty caused the people to suffer and many to perish due to forced labor."
"Well, in my future, around the 2020s, that history started to change a bit, Grandfather," I said, trying to explain as carefully as possible. "Some new evidence was found. It turns out, the facts are not that simple."
Grandfather frowned. "Change? Do you mean Daendels wasn't that cruel?" "Not exactly, Grandfather," I shook my head. "Daendels was still cruel in his own way. But, for this Anyer-Panarukan Road project, there was a surprising finding. It turns out, the Dutch actually paid our people who worked on the project."
Grandfather was silent for a moment, his eyes widening in shock. "Paid? How can that be? If they were paid, why was it called forced labor and why did so many die?"
"That's the problem, Grandfather," I explained. "The payment from the Dutch was, it turns out, held up by our own local leaders at that time. They were the priyayi (aristocrats), regents, or regional rulers appointed by the Dutch. The payment that should have reached the workers' hands, never did. Or if it did, it was very little."
I saw Grandfather processing my words. "So, the money was withheld, or corrupted by our own leaders?" he asked, his voice slightly raised, with a tone of disbelief and disappointment.
"Exactly, Grandfather," I nodded. "The money did not reach the workers, because along the way, it had 'disappeared' or was taken by corrupt individuals from our own nation. Now, because the workers did not receive payment, or very little, they felt it was forced labor, unpaid forced labor. They suffered, remained hungry, and many died from exhaustion and disease. Meanwhile, corruption had already occurred at that time, by our own people."
I saw Grandfather's expression change to a mixed one: shocked, sad, and a little angry. "So, all this time we only blamed the Dutch, when there was a role from our own people who contributed to that suffering?" Grandfather whispered, as if in disbelief.
"You could say that, Grandfather," I replied. "History is complex. There are many sides that haven't been revealed, or were intentionally not revealed. This shows that the problem of corruption didn't just appear now, but has been rooted for a very, very long time in our history. This was a betrayal from within."
Grandfather was silent for a long time, looking far ahead, as if reassembling pieces of history in his mind. This lesson was not just about new facts, but also about the moral complexity and responsibility in every era.
Grandfather was still silent, pondering my explanation about the corruption in the Anyer-Panarukan Road project. His face showed disappointment, but also new understanding. I knew this was the right moment to discuss a broader concept of history.
"Grandfather," I began again, my voice a little more serious. "This isn't just about the Anyer-Panarukan Road, Grandfather. In my future, there's a deeper understanding of how history is recorded."
Grandfather looked at me, gesturing for me to continue.
"There's a very famous proverb in the future, Grandfather," I said. "The proverb says, in English, 'History is written by the victors.' That means history is written by the winners. And this is always a problem."
I explained further. "What I mean is, Grandfather, if someone wins a war, or wins power, they will definitely write their own version of history. They will become the 'king,' and the defeated people, those who opposed them, will be labeled 'bandits' or rebels, or evil people."
"So," I continued, "in the history we read, there will never be a winner who says they were evil. They will always be a hero, a savior, or a bringer of good. In reality, that might not be what happened on the ground. The reality could be far different, full of cruelty or mistakes that were intentionally covered up."
Grandfather nodded slowly. "That's true. Like the Dutch, for example, right? They came, colonized, but then they wrote our history, as if they were bringing civilization."
"Exactly, Grandfather!" I affirmed. "That's why there's another very powerful quote, often spoken in my future. This quote originally came from an African writer named Chinua Achebe, but the essence is the same: 'Until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter'."
I repeated the quote in simpler language for Grandfather. "It means, Grandfather, before the lions can write their own history, the story of the hunt will always glorify the hunter."
"Meaning, if only the powerful, or the winners, write history, then the story is only their version, Grandfather," I explained. "We, the 'lions,' who might be the victims, or who have another version, have no voice. So, the history we read is sometimes only one side of the coin."
"That's why, Grandfather," I admitted, "honestly, I don't really like learning history in school. Not because I hate history, but because I know, sometimes history is just made for propaganda. To 'whitewash'—to clean and cover up—the mistakes made by the winners. We don't really know what truly happened in reality."
Grandfather was silent for a long time. He looked far ahead, as if processing all the information I had just given him. Perhaps his mind returned to the fragmented history of Talaga Manggung during the Dutch era, or the stories of ancestral struggles that may never have been recorded in official history books. There was a kind of burden and disappointment on his face, but also enlightenment.
"So, you want us to learn to always seek the truth from various sides, Son?" Grandfather asked, his voice soft.
"That's right, Grandfather," I answered firmly. "And I want us, with what we're building, to have the power to write our own history. A fair history, not just based on the winners' version."
Our discussion about history being written by the victors and corruption in the past made me think a lot. There was one question that had always bothered me, a question I hadn't had the chance to ask until now.
"Grandfather," I asked one afternoon, mustering my courage. "I want to ask, why did you leave Majalengka for Bandung back then? And why did you choose to become a media entrepreneur? From a royal lineage, why are you a newspaper businessman now?" I knew this might sound a bit offensive, but my curiosity was immense.
Grandfather smiled faintly, his eyes showing understanding. He knew I didn't mean to be disrespectful, just wanted to understand the roots of everything. "That's a good question, Marlon," he said, patting my shoulder.
"Look, Son," Grandfather began, his voice soft and meaningful. "Back then, there was indeed an era of kingdoms. There were kings, queens, palaces, and territories. But that is the past. Now, times have changed drastically. We no longer live in that era. Now, this is the country of Indonesia."
"This means," Grandfather continued, "everyone, no matter where they come from, whether they are descendants of kings or ordinary farmers, are all citizens of Indonesia. We have the same rights and obligations. The concept of 'royalty' is no longer relevant in this era."
Grandfather looked at me deeply. "We cannot keep living in the past, Marlon. We have to be realistic. In this modern country, we all have our respective roles. We must find our own positions within this country. What can we contribute? What can we build?"
"Well, coincidentally, Grandfather saw an opportunity back then," he continued, his eyes sparkling as he recalled his youth. "In Grandfather's time, information was very important. Media, like newspapers, was the most effective way to spread information, educate the public, and also monitor the government. That's why Grandfather chose to be one of the founders of a media company. It wasn't just a business, but also Grandfather's form of contribution to this newly independent country."
Grandfather then held my hand. "Marlon, Grandfather knows you are smart, you have a far-sighted vision. But, Grandfather also tells you to forget about the kingdoms, those past kingdoms."
"Why, Grandfather?" I asked, a little surprised. "Because that is the past, Son. We cannot constantly look back and hope for it to return. We live in the future, and we must build the future," Grandfather emphasized. "You have much greater capital than Grandfather did back then, you have extraordinary knowledge. Make use of it."
"Your focus now is just to run your business so it can become a business empire," Grandfather suggested, his smile widening. "Build your company, Sundawani, so that it becomes very large, strong, and beneficial for many people. That will be your new 'kingdom,' relevant in today's era. A kingdom that doesn't rule over territory, but rules over economics, innovation, and welfare."
Grandfather's words pierced my heart. He was not just an ordinary grandfather, but a wise teacher. He urged me to let go of the burdens of the past and focus on the potential of the future, transforming the ambition of a "kingdom" from a feudal context to a much more relevant modern context. It was a very clear direction from Grandfather, a visionary in his time.
Grandfather's advice about forgetting past kingdoms and focusing on building a "business empire" really resonated. However, there was one more thing bothering me, something important that Grandfather needed to know to save the future.
"Grandfather," I said, trying to choose the right words so as not to sound presumptuous. "I agree with you, we must move forward. But... there's something you need to know about your media company now."
Grandfather looked at me, his forehead slightly furrowed. "What is it, Marlon? The company is doing well."
"Not now, Grandfather," I explained. "But your company's structure is wrong, seen from the future."
Grandfather fell silent, waiting for my explanation.
"You have six friends who helped start this media business, right?" I asked. "And you all have equally large shares, equally distributed among seven people?"
Grandfather nodded. "That's right. There are eight of us, all with the same aspiration to build honest media. So we decided to divide the shares equally for fairness."
I sighed. "Well, in the future, that actually becomes a big problem, Grandfather. I see that if the company is managed as a family business with many equal shareholders, especially from eight different families, it will definitely be chaotic in the future."
"Why is that?" Grandfather asked, starting to look anxious.
"Because in my future, your company becomes a battleground for the children and grandchildren of the other six founders, Grandfather," I began to explain the bitter reality I had seen. "They all feel they have equal rights. Everyone wants to be a director, everyone wants to interfere. Even worse, some even fight over director positions, or fight to sell company assets for their personal gain. No longer for the benefit of the company, but for the benefit of their respective families."
"Back then, in my previous life," I continued, "our own family, we ourselves, chose not to interfere too much in that complicated office politics. We considered it unimportant or didn't want to get involved in dirty power struggles. As a result, your media company failed to innovate, failing to keep up with the times."
I saw Grandfather bowing his head, listening carefully. "You mean, we fell behind?"
"Yes, Grandfather," I answered softly. "When digital technology developed rapidly, your media company couldn't adapt precisely because of that internal conflict. Decisions were slow, budgets were ineffective, and innovation was hampered. To the point where, in 2020, your company was on the verge of bankruptcy, Grandfather."
Grandfather raised his head, his eyes reflecting disbelief and sadness. "That bad?"
"Fortunately, there were still many company assets, Grandfather," I added. "That's what kept the company afloat, even though it was on the brink of collapse. But its great potential was lost. That internal conflict destroyed it from within."
I looked at Grandfather, hoping he could understand how important this information was. This was a lesson from the future, a warning so he could take preventive measures now. Equal ownership among many families might sound fair at first, but in the future, it would become a ticking time bomb, triggering endless conflicts and hindering growth.
Grandfather remained silent for quite a while after hearing my story about how his media company would fall apart in the future. His face showed a mixture of disappointment and acceptance. He looked at me, sadness in his eyes, but also a kind of calmness.
"Alright, Marlon," Grandfather finally sighed deeply. "If that's its fate, if I planted the seeds of trouble from the beginning, then what can be done." There was a tone of resignation, but not surrender. "But, I ask one thing of you."
I looked at Grandfather, awaiting his instruction.
"Later, when you are grown, when you are very successful with your ventures," Grandfather continued, his voice soft but firm, "if there is an opportunity, you can buy this media company, Marlon."
I was surprised. Buy the media company Grandfather founded? This was a huge responsibility.
"It doesn't matter if it's profitable or not financially then," Grandfather emphasized his words. "What's important is, preserve this company that Grandfather founded. It is Grandfather's legacy, the struggle of Grandfather and his friends back then. Develop it in the future. Make that media company glorious again, as Grandfather's initial aspiration."
Hearing that instruction, my heart was moved. This was not just a business, but a legacy. I nodded, secretly promising to carry out that trust.
"Now, Grandfather," I continued, shifting to a more pressing issue that could be prevented now. "There's one more thing Grandfather can do for our own family, so that the same problem as the media company doesn't happen." Grandfather looked at me, interested. "What is it, Son?"
"If you're willing, Grandfather," I said carefully, "it would be better if Grandfather made a will now. To legally divide Grandfather's shares—I mean, Grandfather's assets—separately for Grandfather's children."
Grandfather was surprised. "You mean, divided equally, before Grandfather is gone?"
"Yes, Grandfather," I affirmed. "Because, you see, Grandfather. After you are gone, our own family conflicts will sharpen even more. Especially after Father and Uncle Dadan are gone..." I paused for a moment, holding back emotion as I mentioned Father's passing in the future. "...the grandchildren who don't have parents, or whose parents might not have strong influence, will have their rights unjustly taken by other family members."
Grandfather looked at me with wide eyes. "You mean, they might just take the rights of those orphans?"