Category: Thoughts

A collection of my thoughts on various things

Salihara Street Photography Course 2017

I took Salihara Street Photography course in 2017. I got the information from Instagram’s  sponsored ad. It was a rare moment when Instagram ad algorithms actually pushes something that add value to my life.

 

The course was coached by Erik Prasetya. I did not know him before, despite he is one of Asia’s most influential photographers. I just learned the fact only after I did my research on the course.

 

I browsed his portfolios first before reading about his background. I loved his works immediately, even before I learned that he’s a big name in street photography. I am always wary of awards and titles. While they are indicative on the quality works, awards and titles have the tendency to turn anything into a competitive sport. As in any competition, you can win because you are that good or simply your competitors are that bad.

 

I am not saying that awards and titles as well as competitions have no merit at all. They are useful for filtering information overload, to narrow down choices. But we need to keep in mind they are ‘tools’ of institutions. Their reliability is dependent on the legitimacy of the institutions which provide them. And in a less developed country (i.e. Indonesia), there is a high chance that institutions are not matured enough to be consistent in quality standards.

 

I have seen photographers who advertised his or her credentials when making a photography course. Winner of photo competitions, a high end camera brand ambassador, a magazine’s photographer of the year, etc. However, when I look at their portfolios, they are technically stunning but, I think, bland.

 

But Erik’s pictures are different. He can capture the beauty of middle-class and Jakarta, two banal subjects which loosely represent the worst of capitalism and consumerism. His works are not just pleasing to the eyes and indulging senses, but captures and touches our ‘soul’.

 

I have limited references on Indonesian photographers. Therefore, it was a rare chance to learn photography in Jakarta from a photographer with such depth. So I decided to make the investment in enrolling.

 

I do not have the ambition to become professional photographer. However, I want evolve as a photographer. I want to grow beyond taking ‘instagrammable’ pictures, beyond banal platitudes of getting ‘likes’ and surface level photographic beauty.

 

The course consisted of classes of instructions and discussions, photo hunting sessions, and creating photo essays.

 

Instructions and Discussions

 

In the classes, Erik explained the theoretical formula for street photography (facial expression, juxtaposition and metaphor). Apparently street photography is more than just ‘on the street photography’. To have all the three elements in one frame requires skill and luck.

 

He also spoke and discussed about his perspective and sensitive observations. The thinking process behind his art—coined as ‘Banal Aesthetics’—is captivating.

 

Street photography, unlike photojournalism, does not rely on capturing highly charged subjects such as war, famine, or political unrest. Therefore, the ethical issues mostly revolve around the privacy of the subjects. Street photography often requires discreetness to acquire the candidness of the moment. Nevertheless, when the shutter has clicked, the subjects are likely to notice the photographer. It is important to make the subjects feel comfortable, for ethical  and artistic (even legal) reasons. Erik has a good tip for photographer: be stylish and good looking so people are more welcoming.[1]

 

Well, we can learn to be stylish. But not everybody is good looking. Maybe good looking can be substituted by being charming?

 

The case studies on ethics in photography that we discussed, among others, was Kevin Carter’s Pulitzer winning photograph of a starving Sudanese child waited by a vulture. The photograph helped in drawing more international attention to the crisis in Sudan. Nevertheless, when a photographer photograph something, he or she made a decision not to intervene. Therefore, arguably, photographing is a passive form of endorsement. Carter committed suicide in 1994, the film ‘Bang Bang Club’ portrayed that he felt guilty and became depressed for not helping the child.

 

Erik did not photograph the 212 Protest, because he is not willing to passively endorse a regression in liberal values.

 

Photo hunting sessions

 

In street photography, we need to go beyond ‘exoticism’. I am mostly a travel photographer. Therefore, it is difficult for me to move away from acquisitive mindset towards novel and unfamiliar subjects/objects—which are a plenty when I am travelling.

 

On the other hand, street photography is, well, photography. I think the foundation of photography is to capture subjects that stimulate the interests of the photographer. Even if the subjects are neither novel nor unfamiliar, as long as they arouse the curiosity to observe deeper, I believe the photographer can produce a captivating image.

 

We are naturally defined by our interests. That is why photography projects a strong sense of individuality. For me, photography even produces a feeling of connection with the photographer. When I look at a photograph, I feel as if I am relating with and interpreting the photographer’s perspective of the world. Just like reading a writer’s words.

 

The photo hunting ground was Jakarta. We went to Kota Tua (Jakarta’s old town district) and Jakarta Mod event in Senayan. Just because I live in a city for most of my life, does not mean I can’t find anything novel, unfamiliar and interesting.

 

Kota Tua

 

The last time I visited Kota Tua was in 2010. It has always been a popular photo hunting spot in Jakarta because it has the highest concentration of the Dutch colonial buildings. At that time, however, most (if not all) of the Dutch colonial buildings were in such a sorry state. They were all crumbling. The city government does not seem to have any preservation programme of the historic site (or the programme was simply not implemented effectively). If you want to go inside of any of the buildings, you have to pay unofficial entry and photography fee to the local thugs. In my memory, the associated smell of Kota Tua circa 2010 is of urine.

 

2017 Kota Tua is revamped. I can see the city government led by Governor Ahok has done better job in implementing the preservation programme. The colonial buildings are refurbished and became fancy new restaurants, cafes and exhibition galleries. The main square is more family friendly—which means more middle class Jakartans are coming in.

 

I am all in for preservation of historical sites. However, at least in this case, the preservation also means gentrification. I am wary of the hipsters, but I am much more wary of the blandness of the middle class. 2017 Kota Tua is like London’s Leicester Square. Kota Tua square is now filled with costumed mimes, floating trick artists and caricature illustrators. Onthel (vintage bicycles) rent businesses have been there for as long as I can remember, but now they are multiplying and the bikes are brightly painted with pastel colours. This is to create high contrast with the grey old buildings. The ultimate purpose: selfies or selective colour photography trick—which everyone seems to be doing there.

 

Kota Tua square is also a reminder of how homogenic Jakarta is. Although Indonesia is ethnically diverse and Jakarta is the melting pot for Indonesians, it is difficult to spot the physical difference between ethnic groups—except for the East Indonesians and the Chinese Indonesians. Trying to differentiate the Javanese and the Bataks physically is like comparing the English and the Scandinavians.

 

The homogeneity of Jakarta extends to style. As a conservative society with limited references, Jakartans have low tolerance to non-mainstream individual style expressions. Therefore, there is little variety in terms of fashion. It is typically easy to spot which socio-economic group a Jakartan belong from the way they dress and where they hang out.

 

The sights of 2017 Kota Tua were new and unfamiliar for me. Nevertheless, it did not stimulate my curiosity. Thus, I cannot use the exoticism perspective.

 

2010 Kota Tua, I think, was charming in a raw derelict way. Anak kampung (children from nearby poor neighbourhoods) were playing football, indie band members were doing photoshoots for their album and couples their prewedding photography, punks and gangsters congregated with their comrades. It was my early day of learning photography—I still used a point and shoot. My references on photography was much more limited compared to now, but I can be sure that I would have been more interested in 2010 Kota Tua even now.

 

This confirms that I still hold on so much to the exoticism perspective. I still rely on my voyeuristic impulse in photography. I am interested in ‘lower class’ 2010 Kota Tua, because I am not a member of such class.

2017 Kota Tua

 

Senayan

 

The Jakarta Mod event was more interesting. Maybe because the subjects are segmented.

 

The interesting thing about Jakarta mods are not their obsession with Vespa mopeds, but their zeal in adopting the fashion style—which are geared for London weather. I saw many Jakarta mods proudly wore their vintage overcoat and jacket in 35 centigrade/80% humidity weather. I was sweating in plain t-shirt and shorts, so I imagine how wet they were inside.

 

It was a hot and humid day.

On obtaining juxtaposition, Jakarta is a random city. Based on my experience living here for more than 30 years, juxtapositions are almost everywhere. In fact, some juxtapositions are so common here they are perceived as the norm. I had to live abroad to be able to see Jakarta’s peculiarities.

 

Nevertheless, encountering juxtaposition and capturing it with a camera in a split second is the photographic skill that separates the professionals from the amateurs, the trained talent and the rookie. Great photographers are borderline clairvoyant in anticipating moments. Their years of experience seem to allow them to intuitively position themselves at the right place and at the right time. They have mastered the art of waiting and thinking.

 

I did encounter many juxtaposed moments both in Kota Tua and Senayan, but I failed to capture them.

 

Needless to say, I fell behind during the photo hunting session. I want to blame Jakarta for this failure. After all, Brandon Stanton of Humans of New York also failed in photographing Jakarta.[2] But some of the photographers in my class succeeded.

 

Erik consoled me that photography requires the elements of luck and patience. We only had half day. It took him  at least 5 years to photograph Jakarta and published them on his newest book Women on Street.

 

The experience made me insecure. Nevertheless, I was venturing beyond my comfort zone. I took the required path to evolve.

 

Additionally, I reconfirmed that I do not love Jakarta. Erik can photograph Jakarta well because he is in love with the Big Durian. He migrated from Sumatra. Despite Jakarta is a third world city, it is still the capital. Compared to Sumatra, Jakarta (and Java) is much more developed. Maybe as a born and bred Jakartan, I am unable to appreciate that fact.

 

Of course, I do not mean to be condescending to Erik or other Indonesian urbanisation migrants (commonly referred to as ‘utusan daerah’—region’s delegate[3]). There is more to Jakarta that attracts Erik than the bright lights and the Indonesian dream.[4] Jakarta is a peculiar city, an acquired taste. The city can be artistically stimulating if you can cope with its randomness. Also, Erik is not just an artist, he is a political activist. He participated in many protests against Soeharto’s dictatorial New Order regime. What better place to do political activism than the capital.

 

In fact, it may be me who is shallow for not being able to better appreciate Jakarta despite I can live relatively comfortably here.

Photography and Literature

 

Erik and the other 2017 class participants are also interesting individuals. We discussed topics beyond photography. From politics, literature, films, social and anthropological issues to personal life stories. Every class was enriching. I gained many references from them. I read books recommended by Erik (and a book about him), i.e.:

 

  • Mythologies by Roland Barthes;
  • Camera Lucida by Roland Barthes;
  • On Photography by Susan Sontag;
  • Estetika Banal & Spiritualisme Kritis by Erik Prasetya and Ayu Utami; and
  • Cerita Cinta Enrico by Ayu Utami

 

From the discussions and the books, I finally understood what makes certain photographers, such as Erik, able to create a depth, to give ‘soul,’ in their pictures: their taste. Technical skills of photography will make beautiful pictures. Depth or ‘soul’ is achieved with the sophistication of the photographers’ mind. As Erik pointed out, a photographer is a craftsman if he or she can create beautiful pictures. However, it takes an artist to create art.

 

I notice that one thing that indicates sophistication of the photographer’s mind is the ability to articulate their ‘art’ in words. The photographers I look up to are also writers. They have published good (even great) books or at least run quality blog.

 

I learned that ‘a picture worth a thousand words’ adage does not exempt a photographer in articulating their thoughts. It is true that words are more limited in describing a matter since they are only representation of it. However, words give form to enable better understanding on a matter. The more complex our linguistic skills, the better we are in articulating our thoughts. Subsequently, we become better in expressing and sharing them. And art is about expression and sharing.

 

The ability to articulate thoughts is also essential for the development of photography. Photography, as any work of the mind, is an intuitive process. Nevertheless, if such intuitive process can be translated—albeit only to certain extent—into a reasoning explanation, the next generation can benefit from precedents and a more methodical approach in learning photography.

 

Erik’s opined that Indonesian street photography scene is not living up to its potential. He believes that it is not because of the economy. Sri Lanka street photography scene is lively and it is also a less developed country. Erik believes the main factor in such lethargy is the lack of precedents. Many senior photographers do not produce sufficient books on photography. Precedents allow aspiring and new generation photographers to shorten their learning curves and they do not need to develop the established practices from ground zero over and over again.

 

As someone with ‘standing on the shoulders of giants’ image tattooed on my forearms, I agree with Erik.

 

Erik is a lecturer in Institut Kesenian Jakarta. He is invested in developing the street photography genre in Indonesia. He mentors his students well. Patient, approachable and encouraging, even towards difficult and entitled individuals. I am writing this entry as a testimony on how this course has added value to my life and I would recommend next courses for anyone interested in the art of observation.

 

I don’t think I have succeeded in becoming a street photographer at the end of the course. Nevertheless, it is my deficiencies that I need to fix by investing more time on my photography skills. The effort I undertake in the course itself is rewarding. I believe I have learned much and improved as a photographer in general.

 

Erik holds regular meetups for Street Photography Course alumni (2016 and 2017 classes) and created a Whatsapp group. On a critical note, I decided not to participate because there are more noises than productive discussions in the Whatsapp group. I hope this alumni group can be better curated and moderated.

‘How to take better wefies’ is a part of the curriculum. Not. Photograph by Danny Ardiono.

[1] Erik is in his 60s but you can tell that he is fit from his built (he is a wall climber). He always wear fedora hat and scarf as his signature style. He said it helps to make him look less threatening so subjects are more welcoming to him.

[2] Erik Prasetya held a group discussion at Komunitas Salihara on why Stanton failed in photographing Jakarta. Unfortunately, I did not attend.

[3] Indonesians often refers Jakarta as the capital (ibukota), while the rest of Indonesia is the regions (daerah).

[4] I think the contemporary Indonesian dream can be summed up by these external material symbols: big house, domestic helpers and baby sitter, fancy cars with chauffeurs, Western or Japanese restaurants, fast fashion, shopping malls, the newest smartphones and travel pictures abroad on Instagram.

September 27, 2018

White Rabbit Red Rabbit, Jakarta

Dear Mr Nassim Soleimanpour,

 

May I call you Nassim? After all, we have shared a journey that transcended space and time.

 

I am one of your red rabbits. I took notes as instructed, along with few others, the evening we met.

 

I believe by knowing your email address and writing this letter, I have established my credentials (as a red rabbit). But I will go further than that. I will recite your personal information:

 

Based on Gregorian calendar, you were born on [redacted] (I did not catch the Islamic calendar date, sorry). I forgot whether your eyes are green or blue. But I do remember that you are hairy. Your blood type is [redacted].

 

You wrote the script, the medium of our meeting, on [redacted] in Shiraz. You were unable to travel abroad because you refused to serve in the national service therefore denied of the rights to hold Iranian passport.

 

Now, allow me to introduce myself.

 

My name is Suar Sanubari. I was born on [redacted]. I have brown skin, very little hair on my body—almost like a dolphin. My eyes and hairs are black. My blood type is also [redacted].

 

I am an Indonesian. I too am neither upset or proud with my nationality.

 

We met in Jakarta, at Teater Salihara, on Sunday, 26 August 2018 at 16:15 (GMT +7). Your medium, the actress, was Ms Sita Nursanti. You were speaking in Indonesian when we met. There were around 140 people (or rabbits, if you prefer) at that time. You were given front row seat, lesehan (sit on the floor, pillow seat provided).

 

I never heard about you or White Rabbit Red Rabbit until Saturday, 25 August 2018. A friend posted the script’s performance on that day on her Instastory. It was her second time meeting you. The first time she met you was in Edinburgh Fringe Festival.

 

I checked Salihara’s website and googled about the script. The only information I got is that White Rabbit Red Rabbit is an experimental theatrics where the solo actor perform your script impromptu. The props are limited to a vial of substance, two glasses and a ladder. That caught my interests.

 

I also read that big names such as Whoopi Goldberg and Stephen Fry have become your medium. That’s when I know your low fidelity self-expressions have made you big.

 

It was or is—the tenses are confusing with time transcended, especially for Indonesian native speaker (Indonesian grammar structures are very simple: no tenses)—ingenious of you to devise a medium of thought as a mean to escape your constraints. Indonesia is the 50th country you have travelled to.

 

Since I plan to make this an open letter, I don’t want to deny your future audience’s the profound experience in meeting you for the first time (don’t worry, I will also redact our personal information for the public version).

 

I will only say this about your play:

 

Thank you for creating it, to meet us, rabbits, and stimulate our mind with your thoughts. Your art, your means of escapism, convinced me again that the longest way to die, i.e. to live a little longer is still the best way to die—the one you call the 18th way of suicide,.

 

Your 2010 self decided to create White Rabbit Red Rabbit to channel your frustration in life situation. To express your thoughts on politics, societal norms and nature of our existence. To break your mind from the constraints that was imposed on your physical body. You could have chosen not to bother, not to deal with the hardships of life. But you did not, you decided to endure and create.

 

I hope you find the freedom that your 2010 self was yearning in Berlin. I hope we all have the courage to choose the 18th way of suicide time and time again. We can spend the time we endured well, if we keep reminding ourselves that life is not constant. That life changes, for the better and the worse.

 

Every time I am in the worse part of life, I remind myself the transiency of the circumstances and look back to the better days that have been, such as watching—no, being with you at your play.

 

Thank you. Again.

 

Suar

Teater Salihara

 

September 23, 2018

On Developing and Keeping Regular Exercise Habit

Scientific facts confirm the short and long term benefits of regular exercise. The practical question is how do you make time for it? This is my take on addressing that question.

 

I have been exercising regularly since 2009. Exercise has become a habit, a necessity. I enjoy exercising in a sense I enjoy my work—not always excited about it, but feels rewarded when I got to finish it. However, I still find keeping up with the commitment to exercise at least 4 times a week a struggle.

 

Yes, it is easier after I have developed the habit. Now I only need to tread the fine line between justifiable and bullshit excuses. ‘No excuse’ or ‘beast mode’ mentality may sound like winners’ mentality. However, those motivational jargons cannot be applied without context.

Know yourself, understand your interests

 

Fitness is an investment. As in any investment, there are costs in making it. No matter how much ‘willpower’ I have, my inner forces have limitations to the external forces. I have to constantly manage my resources (especially time and money), making concessions and trade off, for fitness. How I negotiate with the said external forces (i.e. life’s unique circumstances) is a personal choice. I can only invest what I can afford and proportionate to my goal.

 

A key principle in negotiation is to identify and focus on your ‘interests’. Do not focus on what the other party gets or does. Therefore, the first thing I need to understand is my ‘why I decide to commit to exercise regularly?’ My generic answer is to be healthy. I asked another why, ‘why do I want to be healthy?’ Then I came up with: because I want to enjoy life. I want to travel further, I want to play harder, I want to fuck, I want to eat good food, I want to learn more, I want to read more, I want to be productive and create, I want to be attractive, I want to feel good about myself.

 

In sum, my fitness goal is to have the confidence that fitness can give at work or at play.

 

Therefore, while I take fitness as priority, I do not make it the purpose of my life. I take fitness as a foundation to build a better life and to pursue my interests (which are diverse since I am a dilettante of many subjects). How much I want to commit my resources for fitness is influenced by my ‘fitness goal’. There are others who make fitness as their purpose, such as professional trainers, athletes, emergency responders, and warriors. Their fitness regime and diet will naturally be harder and stricter than me.

 

Knowing my fitness goal is essential to know what are my ‘principles’—the non-negotiable things. That way I can design the rules that support my fitness commitment and know when I can make exceptions.

 

I am an average urban professional. I still have to work in the office, attend meetings, reply emails etc. It is not feasible to compare my training regime and schedule with the fitness professionals. Their trainings are big part of their job. I simply cannot train as hard as them. Therefore, my training schedule is not as frequent and intense as them.

 

Helpful nudges

 

Yes, motivating myself to exercise regularly requires will power. However, I can lessen the burden on my will power by ‘buying’ nudges. I bought nice fitness attires, fancy gym membership, professional trainer sessions, group training classes, healthier food that taste good. Anything that can make fitness less a hassle. I found it easier for me to keep up with fitness commitment now than when I was 21, simply because I have more money now. I said easier, not easy. Money can’t buy everything.

 

I think the best nudge investment I made was hiring a professional trainer when starting. I needed to know how to do the moves in correct form as to avoid injury. It was expensive, especially with my income at that time, but worth in the long term. I was more motivated to keep my gym schedule since I would lose a lot of money if I slack off (those sessions have expiration date!). However, the return was fitness independence. After understanding the basics from the sessions and consultations, I can train with or without trainer. I can research and apply fitness programmes because I have understood the basic principles. This allows me to be flexible in my training schedule.

 

We are all bound by space and time. Therefore, location is always a significant factor in developing and maintaining fitness as a habit. I don’t live in the city centre, so I need to weigh in commute time whenever I schedule my exercise (especially with Jakarta’s traffic). I normally go to the gym after work, therefore I tend to come home late after exercising. Fortunately, I don’t have children. That’s a huge burden lifted on my schedule.

 

Big chain gyms are not my favourite place to exercise. They are expensive and often overcrowded. However, I found them the most convenient and, therefore, justify the cost for me. They have multiple locations and accessible anytime they are open. I need such flexibility. I found it is easier to bring myself to the gym when they are walking distance from the work place or home.

 

Atmosphere also an important nudge. I have a TRX suspension trainer and built a workout station for bar trainings. I can train at home, but I still prefer to train at gym—just like I prefer to work at the office although I can work from home. When I am already at the gym, I will be less likely to call off the training session simply because I have made the trip there. And seeing other people exercising motivates me to exercise. At home, I can easily find excuses to procrastinate.

 

I think the best place to exercise is local independent gym with group training sessions. Usually the members inorganically evolve into a community. This kind of gym provides a healthy dose of competitive motivation as well as the sense of belonging which make training sessions pleasant. We are ultrasocial animals after all.

 

I am a regular to Moving Body Culture’s Master Boot Camp sessions. Every Saturday at 0600, we ‘congregate’ in sweat and swear. I like the friendly, mild-mannered and non-intimidating way the trainings are delivered (no ‘Beast Mode On!’ type yelling here). The coaches are helpful and great source of fitness references. Training sessions are often intense but we joke around a lot.

 

Experiment and adapt

 

I experimented on how my body will take the fitness regime. I notice that I often fell ill if I exercise in a row for three days. Therefore, I need to have a rest day after two consecutive days of training. I prefer free style trainings, but once a while I take weight training to develop muscles and Yoga to train my flexibility. I need cardio, but I don’t like running, so I take up boxing. I try new training methods and participate in fitness events. These experiments not only allow me to discover which fitness regime that I like in order to develop a sustainable regular exercise schedule (it’s easier to stay committed to what we like, obviously). They are also good to ward off boredom from routine.

 

In life, something will always come up. Situations such as ‘I need to meet a deadline’, ‘A friend invites me to hang out’, ‘I need to leave home now if I don’t want to get stuck in traffic’ are inevitable dynamics. I have to decide whether to let go my fitness schedule or just adopt a ‘no excuse’ attitude. When treading the fine line between justifiable and bull shit excuses, I need to look into my own values to decide. For example, I ask myself ‘Is it a professional manner not to meet a deadline? No.’ Then I apply adaptability to the situation: ‘Can I negotiate the deadline?’ or, alternatively, ‘Can I reschedule the training to meet my fitness commitments.’

 

I do not want to choose a job that prohibits me to have time to exercise regularly despite the pay is alluring. I need money—I even spent a good portion of my budget for fitness. Nevertheless, we all know that health is the most important asset. We only have one body for our entire life, at least until there is a breakthrough in life science that allows us to have an indestructible or substitute body. We need to take care of our body. There is no point in wearing and tearing it to the extreme just for generating external wealth.

 

Performance based fitness and aestheticism

 

Coach Carlo Tamba[1] of Moving Body Culture introduced me to the term ‘performance based fitness.’ The philosophy is simple: focus on improving fitness performance, not mere aesthetics. This approach does not emphasise on before/after selfies. Improvement is measured in the improvement of how our body perform better in terms of endurance, strength, power, speed, agility, coordination, flexibility, balance, etc. I am a subscriber to this philosophy. I think by focusing on incremental improvements, rather than aesthetic results, makes the process more enjoyable. Of course, improvement on fitness performance directly translate on the improvement of bodily aesthetic. However, I will not be frustrated or intimidated if I don’t have a male model/swimmer body within 3 months as advertised by those fitness magazines.

 

I do want six pack abs. Nevertheless, not as much as I love good food. I like to drink and party sometimes. I am not one of those guys who are genetically blessed with default athletic body (who can get to six pack abs just by training). On the other hand, I do want to look good. I may be superficial: I link my self-esteem with my outer appearance. While there are more to a person than meets the eyes, I think how I look represents how I want to be viewed and view everyone: beautiful. I read that preservation of self-image is good for emotional well-being.[2] Therefore, I need to strike a balance between enjoying myself and not to look like a pig.

 

Fortunately, it’s not that difficult to strike a balance between good life and fitness. I found that good food is slow food. Not gorengan, instant noodles or chain restaurants’ fried chicken and cheeseburgers. I like my coffee black, my chocolate dark. I hate soda and love water. I am not a dessert person, I am a main course person. Although I still indulge in wine, whisky and other liquors, I do not drink simply to get drunk like when I was younger.

 

I was not born this way, I liked junk food and excess sugar in my past life. However, my taste developed as my fitness habit.

 

By exercising regularly, I need more energy. I can feel it when my food is not producing sufficient energy. I learned the different between satiated and full. Junk food has little or zero nutrients. It can make us full, but not satiated. While good food I enjoy has certain level of nutrients to satiate me (of course, there are still less healthy elements otherwise they would not be fun). Satiation energise.

 

Therefore, I have to choose food that energise me and let go of the junk food. When we live without something for long enough, we adapt and forget about it. This also applies the junk food we crave. Thus begin the benevolent cycle of well-being.

 

I found that exercising regularly made me a better person. I do not treat my body as a mere transport vessel for my head anymore. Physical training is also mental training. When my body is strong, I feel strong. Strong feels good. Good feels happy. After all, happiness and pleasures are simply neurochemical reactions. And this is the real reward.

Preserving my self-image.

[1] Carlo also runs a blog. Don’t let his religiosity put you off, he’s a decent guy. Take it from me, an irreligious person.

[2] D Goleman, Emotional Intelligence: Why it can matter more than IQ (Bantam, 2006).

August 12, 2018

31 Days of FOMO

I took a month off from personal social networking sites. I did not check or post anything on Instagram, Facebook, Path and Twitter during July 2018. Now I am back online.

 

Social media is revolutionary. They changed the way we communicate. We chat, express ourselves, share, learn, travel, create art (or its generic imitation of it).[1] We have heard of stories on how social media is instrumental to positive changes, from finding lost child, crowdfunding a good cause, innovation in social enterprise, to toppling authoritarian regime or simply maintaining our relationships.

 

However, they have negative side effects—intended or intended. Privacy invasion, fake news/hoaxes that ignited public violence, the filter bubble that creates extreme political polarisation, promotion of fake it to make it culture and shallow relationships are among the dark side of social media.[2]

 

My deliberate decision to take a month of absence from social media is related to personal well-being. Nothing heroic. It is not a symbol of resistance to the invasion of my privacy or a protest against the saturation of labour rights in the ‘sharing economy’. It’s not an effort to be ‘enlightened’ either. Well, I need to do better than denouncing social media to achieve nirvana.

 

Social media is a distraction. Have you ever mindlessly scrolling through the feed and suddenly realised hours have passed? Then you feel bloated, guilty and anxious—just like after you gulped that salted chips or mediocre cheesecake, i.e. junk food.

 

I have friend who deactivated her Instagram account because she feels depressed whenever she check Instagram. She’s in a rough time, and seeing pictures from her wonderful past travels makes her wondering when she can travel again. In that way, Instagram becomes toxic for her.

 

No, I have no mental issues (at least, I don’t think so) associated with social media use. When I’m having a difficult time, seeing pictures from my past travel or life’s highlights on my Instagram, Path or Facebook account actually motivates me. It always make grateful for the privileges I enjoyed, and hopeful for better days to come.

 

Plus ever since I first took up annual reading challenge in 2016, I have become much less attached to social media. I prefer to read books, the equivalent of consuming slow food as opposed to junk food. But I still use social media because they are fun and help me connect with my friends who live in different cities all around the world. Most importantly, social media serves as my personal digital journals.

 

I am ruthless in controlling the flow of information on my social media feed. If any of my online ‘friends’ post anything that has negative effect to my feeling, I will remove him or her. This apply to any post that is outright negative such as any post containing sarcasm (no, it does not project intellect) or even ‘toxic positivity’—those carefully engineered picture typically captioned with empty, often irrelevant, motivational jargons begging for ‘likes’.

 

Nevertheless, I have never tried not to use Facebook, Path and Instagram for an extended period of time. Taking a time off from the personal social networking sites gave me a chance to review and experiment whether I still have control on my social media use. I want to make sure that I still have a healthy habit using social media.

 

After 31 days offline, I conclude that I still find value or joy in using Facebook, Instagram and Path. I don’t need to take a drastic measure of deactivating accounts. I just need to keep minimising by curating my social media feeds.

 

And stay away from the Explore page of Instagram.

 

I recorded significant thoughts during the 31 days of FOMO. These are the redacted and edited transcripts:[3]

 

Day 1

Made through the first day. I just realised I already have the itch to check my phone and tap to check social media app whenever I am idle and bored. A sign of addiction, or at least embedded habit.

 

There were times when I peeked into a friend’s phone for his/her social media app. However, when I did this, I was deliberate. We were discussion something and I wanted to show something. In a way, the social media enhanced our face to face interactions.

 

One thing I regret is scrolling a Whatsapp group before going to bed. I was added to this group without my prior consent. I took a photography course last year and our class decided to create a group. Our class’ group was good, everyone knows and understands the social media etiquette. Then, the administrator decided to merge our group to 2016’s class. That’s when the group became mostly irrelevant to me.

 

There is this one guy, a 2016 class participant, who set up and promoted his photography course. He is preachy and continuously displays his credentials: published photobooks, awards and exhibitions, but whenever I look at or into his works I found them bland—even lack of taste. His photography course promotion even uses the wrong font: Comic Sans.

 

I tried to google him just to recheck the legitimacy of his credentials. I have not been able to confirm whether his awards are legitimate or not. If the awards for real, maybe it’s me that has a bad taste in ‘art’. Of course, that is alarming.

 

Then it came to me: this is social media toxicity. Why do I even bother to invest my attention, my time, a portion of my life for something that fuels my negativity? Even instant messaging can be toxic, particularly the group chat.

 

I need to exit groups that are irrelevant for me. Stop worrying that I will offend anyone. To expect I don’t have the option to opt out from consuming annoying chat is simply offensive and anti-social.

 

Day 4

Exited the Whatsapp group. What a relief! I hope the photography course instructor does not take it personally. I respect him and admire his works as photographer and writer (of course, I would not signed up for the course if I don’t). Well, anyway, he’s old school. He started using Whatsapp only after the course, and he does not check Whatsapp so often.

 

Instagram sent an email. Updating me on the new likes and followers. Nudging me to give back the attention I am withholding them from now.

 

I just realised I substituted Instagram, Facebook and Path with reading email newsletters now. The good thing: I subscribed to good newsletters e.g. medium.com. So the articles I read add values to my life.

 

I think one of the biggest challenge to minimise distraction and maximise value in using Instagram or Facebook is the sponsored posts. I wonder whether the EU GDPR has prompted social media companies to offer opt-out mechanism for sponsored posts?

 

Day 10

Unfortunately, I still have the itch to look and play with my smartphone when idle. I checked emails, podcast, text message. The smartphone is my tic box. It has become an extension of my body.

 

I think the habit is deeper than the social network site. We have been attached to our mobile phones since they became mainstream. First, we anticipate calls. Then SMS (I remember how excited I was receiving SMS text from my crush in high school).[4] When push email technology arrived, that’s when the real pandemic started.

 

Day 12

I am beginning to feel the withdrawal symptom. I want to check my Instagram. I think it’s because I’m anxious about my future. I am worried about money, despite it’s not a problem (at least not yet).

 

Those dark thoughts make me crave for a distraction. Personal social network sites provide easy distraction. I do not have to decide what to consume. With books or Netflix, I have to at least make a choice.

 

Day 19

I am still battling my anxiety, but  I have become indifferent to social media and reduced them to utilitarian value. I visited my own Instagram feed just as reference when writing.

 

Day 20

Social media can be non-toxic.

 

A friend who lives in the US was diagnosed with cancer. She has been documenting her struggle on Instagram. She once posted ‘in case I don’t make it.’

 

My partner saw her Instagram post this morning. She has been declared cancer free. I feel the empathetic joy for her. I imagine how ecstatic she is now.

 

I was feeling down and anxious these days due to the financial uncertainties. I often zoned out and forget things or unable to listen.

 

I have a lot of free time on my hand now. I try to be as productive as possible. Mostly, I read and write. But writing is harder than I expected. It’s one thing to write anything that flashes in my mind. Editing them into a coherent essay is the difficult part. It requires deep thinking. It made me neglect chores and it is exhausting. I always sleep early now.

 

My cancer survivor friend’s post made me elated. My struggle is pedestrian compared to hers. If she can be strong, I should be too.

 

Day 31

It’s a month already. I must prepare my take on this 31 days of FOMO.

Tweet Box, an artwork by a convict exhibited in Southbank Winter Festival 2015 (London)

 

[1] Social media is a loose term. It is not limited to social network sites (SNS) such as Facebook or Path. The scientific definition of ‘social media’ was first coined by two business professors Andreas Kaplan and Michael Heinlin as ‘a group of Internet-based applications that build on the ideological and technological foundations of Web 2.0 that allow the creation and exchange of User Generated Content’. Social media rely on mobile and web-based technologies to create interactive platforms where users become part of communities and share, co-create, discuss and modify the content. Check my academic article ‘Arbitrator’s Conduct on Social Media’ for complete references. A pdf copy download link is also available from my previous post here.

[2] See J Silverman, Terms of Service: Social Media and the Price of Constant Connection (Harper Collins, 2015). The book provides critical analysis on the negative effects of social media.

[3] I need to protect the privacy and/or the feelings of relevant individuals.

[4] Yes, I am an #eldermillenials

August 1, 2018

Fitness Independence

It’s the second day after Lebaran[1] and a few days after Indonesia’s National Day, I just finished TRX Suspension Training session at home. Yesterday I did a Short Circuit Gym Free Cardiovascular Training session using a Men’s Health article as a reference,[2] also at home. Suddenly I realized that I have achieved fitness independence.

 

What is fitness independence? In my personal term, it is a state when we can do fitness virtually anywhere. A state incorporated as a core value and name by the company which invented TRX training. To stay healthy is a lifetime priority and exercising regularly to implement such priority.  Fitness independence is the only way to maintain regular exercises despite any change of circumstances.

 

In the age of functioning portable fitness equipment (not that TV shopping craps), we—urban people—should not limit our exercises within the gym. No, I am not advocating anti-gym attitude. I just think we should stop making excuses for not exercising due to unavailability of access to gym and/or fitness equipment. Sure, the TRX Suspension Trainers are, in my opinion, the best fitness equipment/training system ever invented so far. It is one of the major tools in achieving fitness independence for me, like Indonesia gained her independence due to revolutionary technology of the atomic bomb. But of course, my struggle for fitness independence started when I decided to take regular exercises seriously in 2009, long before I was introduced to TRX Suspension Trainers.

 

I wanted to exercise regularly and seriously ever since I was in junior high school. Later in high school I joined a local small gym. I didn’t get the result so I quit. In retrospect, I failed to maintain regular exercise because: (i) I was a feeble minded teenager who wanted result but lacked discipline and motivation; and (ii) limited information and education on proper fitness training but lacked the resourcefulness to acquire them.

 

It took a couple of years since I entered productive age (a fancy way to say having a job) to decide and try committing myself to regular exercise again. I joined an international chain gym and hired a personal trainer Alvin. This time I was successful in maintaining my schedule discipline and motivation. However I was attached to the gym and the PT. It is not a bad thing to be attached to things that make we healthier, but there are times when we just can’t go to the gym and/or the PT is absent. And they are not free, not even cheap.

 

In 2010, I managed—or more likely, forced—to detach myself from PT as I was assigned abroad. I could use my international membership to access gyms under the same franchise, nevertheless PT sessions cost much more in Singapore. So I had to exercise by myself, armed with knowledge to execute correct moves and programs from Alvin. And I was one step closer to fitness independence.

 

When I returned to Jakarta, I can manage my exercise without PT. I just need to be provided with the training programs. First I rely on Alvin to help me supplying the programs, then I began to do the research myself (thanks to Google, it is not hard to find free information on fitness programs. Or, if we want to pay up a bit, many good publications on fitness are available in bookstores and magazine stands). Yet still, I was attached to the gym.

 

One day in 2011, Alvin asked me to try Master Boot Camp (MBC)—his side gig with some fellow trainers.[3] No membership fee, no strings attached. We only pay as we train, Rp. 100.000,- per session. During and after  the training, we can ask anything about fitness. Gratis. The fitness information overflowing in MBC is updated and helpful. When we mix certified professional trainers and a community of fitness enthusiasts, it is natural that after session discussions topic always develop around health and fitness. Fitness programs, movements, method of training, diets, equipment, clothing, shoes etc.[4] MBC is a good place to educate myself in the field of fitness. And to be independent, we have to educate ourselves. After almost a year regularly attending MBC sessions, I achieved fitness independence.

 

Does MBC is the only way to achieve independence? Of course not, it will be contrary to the basic concept of fitness independence itself, which is the freedom to do fitness regardless of the unavailability of certain venue or training methods. In an MBC session I met Wulan who believes that going to the gym is a waste of time and money. She also doesn’t want to spend too much on fitness equipment. Therefore, she regularly exercises by herself at home. At that time she was employing Insanity training regiments (an intense body weight training program—just  Google it for more information). Nevertheless, MBC can provide us with two of the most important factors in achieving fitness independence: education and motivation (as for self-discipline and resourcefulness, we’ve got to acquire it ourselves).

 

We can purchase the TRX Suspension Trainer, Rip Trainer, ViPR or any other fitness equipment, but without knowing how to properly use them we will not achieve result, even counterproductively injure ourselves. The certified professional trainers/instructors of MBC will provide instructions on proper execution of fitness movements in every session. Prior to the exercise, they will ask for our medical history to know past injuries and certain medical conditions that need special attention during exercise. We will not be instructed to train harder than we can. They are also open for consultations, even outside MBC sessions.

 

The training menus are variable. There has been no repetition of exercise menu in MBC sessions. Each session is always different to make training boring-proof. Funny friendly participants will support and compete with we keep we motivated.

 

In my closing words, MBC is a way to achieve fitness independence. I educate and motivate myself by attending MBC sessions. Ultimately, the foundations of fitness independence are our own self-discipline, motivation and resourcefulness. The more disciplined we are, the less we’ll make excuses to skip exercises and the more we will find ways to motivate and educate ourselves. I can’t say I’ve committed myself to fitness magazines’ male models level of self-discipline, but I’m improving my standards and expanding my limits. Therefore, I’d like to testify:

 

“Dulu saya tidak bisa latihan sendiri di luar gym, setelah berlatih di Master Boot Camp saya bisa berlatih sendiri di manapun. Terima kasih Master Boot Camp….” (imagine me saying this like in a Tong Fang commercial)

 

Post workout note, 21 August 2012.

[1] Ied.

[2] Short Circuit Gym Free Cardiovascular Training is a fat burning circuit program which consists of (i) press-up to burpees; (ii) the plank; (iii) box jump; (iv) static squat; and (v) chin-ups. Each move is performed for 1 minute. Do 3 sets with no rest.

[3] Master Boot Camp is now organized under Moving Body Culture. Still with same schedule since its first session 2011: Saturday, 0600. The venue has moved to Kementrian Pemuda dan Olahraga (Kemenpora) ’s basketball court and there has been adjustment to the fees.

[4] The discussions also extend beyond fitness. Many members develop genuine close friendships and even gained business opportunities from this community.

July 23, 2018

On Minimalism

 

Hoarder’s Gene

 

I came from a family of hoarders. My parents’ house are filled with things: dilapidated second hand furniture, stacks of old newspapers and magazines, scattered books, cardboard boxes, computer scraps, etc. It’s always messy, ugly and dirty, and full of mosquitos. I never took my friends home because I felt embarrassed.

 

Ibu (mother) always told me it’s because we are poor. We can’t afford to buy beautiful things to decorate our home. I believed her. I spent most of my life believing that life’s problems can be solved by money. I fell in to the consumerist adage: more is better.

 

When I started working in my early twenties, I suddenly have disposable income. My salary was not bad for an entry level job, but I lived from paycheck to paycheck. I was in a phase of experimental consumptions. Trying to buy my happiness with things.

 

Fortunately, I did not have a credit card at that time and I have a relatively expensive hobby: airsoft. These two prevented me to be tangled in a debt. I only spent the money I have, albeit not always wisely, and I focused my major spending on things that related to the hobby I actually love. Many of my peers spent most their money on superfluous items: brand new cellphones, new car, or branded clothing which are often purchased with loans. The relatively wise entered into home ownership mortgage. Therefore, I never got into financial difficulties despite the experimental consumptions years.

 

Nevertheless, I realised that I accumulated so much items to the extent I was sleeping in piles of things that I never use. I knew I have to create and apply a rule to stop the creeping expropriation to my physical space by the things I own. So I made a mental image that I am ripping money bills when I buy things and failed to use it for reasonable period of time. This helped me to be wiser when acquiring new things because of the potential guilt in the future. The rule is particularly effective against compulsive consumptions on cheap trinkets.

 

However, I still find my space cluttered. I often buy things on the pretext of ‘I may need it in the future.’ When I realised that I never used or only used once the just-in-case items, I could not let them go. The mental image of ripping money bills daunted me. I justified the reluctance to let go of the items by clinging to the idea that one day I will use it or, at least, sell it to remedy my error in purchase.

 

It came to me then, I am a hoarder just like my parent. Hoarding is a scarcity mentality. Instead of focusing your resources to have items that really matters,  you take in anything on the pretext of  anticipated future use. I thought it is the opposite of the compulsive consumerist mentality, the ‘I-want-that’ mentality. It is not. It’s just the other side of the coin. The ‘I may need it in the future’ mentality accumulates material things based on the illusion of need. Similar with the wanting that masks as needing.

 

Enter Minimalism

 

I read the term  ‘minimalist living’ as a philosophy for the first time in a Men’s Health article ‘Why Guys with Less Stuff are Happier.’ Before, I thought that ‘minimalism’ or ‘minimalist’ is a term limited for architecture or interior design.

 

In the said article, one of the most memorable stories is about Mark Divine, an author and a Navy SEALS Commander. He lived for months in a mission deployment only with things inside his rucksack. He never felt so clear of purpose.

 

I understand the point: that compulsive consumption and hoarding of material possessions distract us. That there are hidden costs of owning things such as storage space and mental clutters.

 

I can relate to the story despite I never served in the military.

 

I have made travelling my hobby, even borderline life’s purpose. When we travel, we will be forced to minimise. We can’t carry everything we want. Therefore, we must consciously take the effort to sort our things: what we need and what we don’t.  I do not believe in delegating when packing since what we need is often a very personal choice. If we do the packing right and left with items that are just right for us, we can focus on the experience.

 

I was happy with less in London. Yes, the city is much nicer than Jakarta. But I had much less disposable income. I had to think a lot when buying things, not just because of financial constraints but also of space and time. Our flat was only a studio and obviously we needed to make time exploring and living the greatest city in the world.

 

Divine gave a tip to how to reduce consumptions: the two weeks test. Whenever you want to buy a thing, withhold the purchase. If you forget about it or can live without it for two weeks, then you don’t buy it. It is a good rule. Now I have a methodical approach in making a purchase. The rule significantly reduces my ineffective consumption. I slowed down the accumulation of things.

 

However, I missed  Divine’s most important point: to view material possessions based on their utilitarian value, i.e. as mere tools. When they serve no purpose, get rid of them. I did not comprehend the importance of letting go.

 

Then I remember one of my closest friends mentioned that she’s organising her closet with the KonMari method. I read the Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo[1]

and learned that the method is not limited to organising closet, but the individual’s entire living space. Marie Kondo’s principle in tidying-up is only keep things that you need and spark joy to your life. She elaborates the step by step instructions on minimising in that book.

 

The first step is always discarding. Kondo’s simple explanation on the not-so-hidden costs of storage directly addresses my inability to let go. I realised that the ripping money bill cannot stand alone as it only focuses on the acquisition costs.

 

Subsequently, I learned to let go the I-may-need-it-in-the-future items and to accept the fact that I have made mistakes of making bad purchases. In a way, it is like forgiving myself. I got rid of unused things and useless items: donated clothes and books, discarded cables and miscellaneous trinkets.

 

I felt freer.

 

How much is too much?

 

Kondo and Divine are consistent in the benefits of having less things. However, does Divine suggest that we can only keep things that have practical value? How about mementos or a comfortable sofa? We can survive without them, but they are nice. Does minimalist is essentially a pauper by choice?

 

I believe the answer is ‘it depends.’ While Divine insist on a ‘practical value’, from what I read, Frogmen do not travel light. They carry what they need, but their battle gears are pretty heavy. Many of them bring mementos or trinkets to keep their morale up. In that sense, those mementos serve a practical value despite they have no direct utility value to the mission. This is the equivalent to Kondo’s spark joy principle. The Minimalists, Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus, also came up with equivalent terms: things that add value to your life.

 

Millburn and Nicodemus further provides useful categorisation of things: essentials, non-essentials, and junk. Essentials are things we need that we cannot live without. Non-essentials are things we can live without, but can augment our life experience. Junk items are the one we need to discard. It’s relatively easy to determine which of our items are essentials, the trickier part is to classify non-essentials and junk. It is a personal choice. The key is experimenting how much is too much for you.[2]

 

If one is content living in as a homeless by choice, then yes that pauper is a minimalist. However, if one owns a sports car because he truly enjoys driving it and can afford it—with no intention to impress—he is a minimalist (although I believe it would be difficult to satisfy the last criterion).

 

This is the minimalism I understand and subscribe to.

 

Minimalism as an ‘-ism’

 

While minimalism in a way is a counter consumerist philosophy, I do not believe it can address the systemic inequality in capitalist-consumerist societies. It is a personal development/self-help/spirituality kind of ‘-ism.’ The modern secular version of asceticism spirituality such as the Ancient Greek’s Stoicism, Buddhism’s Zen, Hinduism’s Samana, Islam’s Zuhud, and Christianity’s Jesuit.

 

Consumerism always finds a way to commercialise anything that has become a popular culture. Like Yoga or even Che Guevara, minimalism is no exception. Consequently, there are minimalists—people who are genuinely trying to live a better life by having less—and there are…hipsters with minimalists style—people who are simply obsessed with minimalist design (those simple, sleek, light and often expensive things). If one thinks that definition, label and/or look represent the exact actual matter, it may be difficult to see which one is which.

 

Maybe minimalism is reactionary and nothing revolutionary. But I won’t call it so far as ‘a quasi-religious anti-poor bullshit’.

 

I am applying minimalism to my life simply because they seem to be working for me.[3] I have less clutter, zero debt. I can walk away from a job that I hate. And there is a power in it. When I shun over people who lost their civility in Black Friday, that does not mean I am anti-poor. I am just distressed to see how consumerism can effectively nudge us as individuals. And we need a counter measure—even it is only reactionary and works at individual level.

 

YWCA Colombo: Jesuit minimalism architecture and interior design.

[1] Marie Kondo, ‘The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying-Up: the Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing’ (Ten Speed Press: 2014).

[2] I found the Konmari method provides the most structured guidelines to ‘decluttering and organizing’, such as sorting by category not location, to discard instead adding storages, how to decide what items to discard (and how to discard with no hesitation), how to arrange our items, how to fold our clothes, etc. However, the Minimalists’ blog and podcasts are great source for many life hacks.

[3] Despite my conscious effort to minimise, I am reluctant to call myself a ‘minimalist’. The term is often misunderstood because of the close association of the word ‘minimalist’ with ‘austerity’. This gross labelling give rise to many criticisms against minimalism which are based on the misunderstood premise that minimalism prohibits you to own things other than the essentials.

July 16, 2018

Meet Your Common Scholar

When my scholarship application was successful, Bapak (dad) gave me a book: ‘Pengalaman Belajar di Amerika Serikat’ by Arief Budiman. The book was first published in 1991. It’s the author’s memoir of his struggles when studying in the Harvard University as a scholarship student.

 

The book is inspiring and moving. The typical feel good story of the happiness of pursuit, against all odds and of the underdog. A story of scholar from a less developed country overcoming not just academic challenges and financial limitations, but also language barrier and cultural shock, in pursuing education in a Western more developed country.

 

Then Bapak told me that I should write a book on my studies in London. Well, not that I don’t want to. I have so much stories from my London year, but they do not have the dramatic flair of Arief Budiman’s stories (or Andrea Hirata’s, if you prefer the newer version of struggling Indonesian scholar). While  I had to be smart with money, we never had to huddle together in bulky winter clothes to keep ourselves warm to save on heating during winter time.

 

The ‘study abroad’ narratives that ‘sell’ to Indonesians fall within these two ‘extremes’: the struggling scholar or the trust fund baby. The stereotype of struggling scholars are diligent students with stellar academic performance from their elementary school, devoted to his/her parents who invested a lot on their child’s education despite their poverty, and religious. The trust fund babies are represented by members of a tycoon family or political dynasty and ideally religious too e.g. Mas Boy of Catatan Si Boy or (god forbid) London Love Story.[1] The struggling scholars must live in a cheap suburban accommodations, the trust fund babies live in luxury house or condo in a prime area (purchased, not rented) with luxury cars at their disposal. However, both seem to hang out exclusively or mostly with fellow Indonesians due to cultural and economic gaps. The struggling scholars tend to shun and cannot afford ‘hedonistic’ (I prefer the term, epicurean) lifestyle of common Western students. While the trust fund babies find themselves unable to relate with other students who are (mostly) proletarians.

 

Now, I do not fit in to both stereotypes. I am a scholarship recipient, but I am not a struggling scholar. My LPDP scholarships award was generous, not excessive but sufficient. They covered at cost visa application and return tickets, full tuition fee, fixed living costs and book allowance, capped dissertation allowance and partial dependent support. I got additional stipends from Lubis, Santosa & Maramis, the law firm I worked for. I could afford to live in a private studio flat in WC1 area with my partner, travelled to some parts of Britain and Continental Europe as well as Morocco, eat out, socialising and engaging in epicurean lifestyle and even got a tattoo from London’s premium parlour. But of course I could not bask in luxury. I bought my clothes at charity shops (tip: browse the charity shops in rich area).[2] When my smartphone broke, I did not buy the newest iPhone but a Nokia.

 

I was far from diligent student profile. I flunked in mathematics, physics, chemistry (the “Mafia” subjects—matematika, fisika, kimia— dreaded by most students during high school who are weak with numbers) in high school. Joined the school’s gang. I was an okay undergraduate student. I compensated my academic performance with professional experience to get the scholarship. Spiritually, I am deeply irreligious. Socially, most of my friends in London are not Indonesians.[3]

 

But perhaps that exactly I need to take my part in filling the narratives gap for the common scholars. I think most Indonesian scholars of my generation are like me. After all, we live in an age of smartphones where the entire human knowledge is accessible one click away, international university applications are submitted online, and cheap air travels. Of course, I am not inferring that inequality has been addressed. To the contrary, inequality is the main reason why international students typically come from rich or middle class family. One of my fellow LPDP scholars is from a remote village with no electricity, and it has been an almost insurmountable handicap for him to study abroad.

 

Maybe some people find that the trust fund babies narratives are too superficial. While the struggling scholars narratives tend to entertain the Jesus Complex mentality—the notion that the more one suffers, the more virtuous one must be.[4] But the common scholar (i.e. my) narratives will be like this:

 

  • I have to take the Underground and the Routemaster bus to get around London (last time I check, even Kit Harrington also uses them so hardly count as a struggle—except the Central Line during summer);[5]
  • I have to do farmers’ walk i.e. lugging the baskets of groceries from Waitrose Brunswick (yes, I am a supermarket snob who shops at Waitrose);[6]
  • We also need to shop for our monthly meat, poultry and fish supplies at Brixton Market—which is lovely and so full of life, we always share pleasantries with the shopkeepers who are as diverse as London can get: English butchers, Afghani fishmongers, Caribbean grocers.
  • I learned to become a handyman to fix the wall tiles from YouTube and some tips from a local hardware supplies store owner; and
  • I studied hard—hardest in my entire life, battling anxiety, minor depression, infatuation, sense of inadequacy, the dread of returning to Jakarta, relationship strains, and many other form of insecurities. All of them are common human experience. But they are mine.

 

 

Well, are they inspiring enough?

 

Our flat building in spring

[1] I did not watch the movie. My snap judgment on the trailer tells me that it would ruin my London memories.

[2] It’s not just about the saving money. I can get good value items compared to cheap retailers, reduce environmental footprints and contribute to good causes.

[3] Just to be clear, I do have Indonesian friends in London. We were even adopted by our host family who are Indonesian-Italian. However, I did make the conscious effort to make friends with people from all around the world simply because I was in London. I don’t want to miss the opportunity to sample the diversity and multiculturality just because I’m afraid of cultural gaps and minor language barrier (last time I check, we all need to achieve certain level of fluency in English to be admitted). This is a chance to shrug off the ‘inlader’ mentality that is so pervasive in my Indonesian psyche.

[4] Alain de Botton, Essays in Love (Picador: 2015).

[5] In fact, not having to drive everywhere was extremely convenient for someone who grew up in the seventh hell of traffic: Jakarta.

[6] My motto was ‘In reduced, we trust’. In fact, Waitrose is the most frequented place by us in London. We went there at least once a day.

July 10, 2018

Arbitrator’s Conduct on Social Media

My LLM dissertation “Arbitrator’s Conduct on Social Media” has been published in Journal of International Dispute Settlement (JIDS). The target audience is academic and practitioners in the field of arbitration. However, I tried to write it to be understood by general public to the extent an academic article could possibly be written in layman terms.

 

I did not record how many hours I spent working in this article. As an LLM student, there was no requirement for me to fill in timesheet. In retrospect, maybe I should have recorded the time spent ‘working’ on LLM my studies. That way I could have quantified (albeit not exact or perfect) the amount of hours converted to money I am investing in my academic and professional development.

 

I remember the hardest part of writing was finding the topic. One winter early morning (that’s 3am), I woke up and started writing a concept for dissertation topic. It was about comparative private international laws in South East Asia. I worked on that concept for hours. However, in the end, I jettisoned the concept when I found that nobody has ever written about Arbitrator’s Conduct on Social Media.

 

When writing the article, I tried to make it as regular as work. I started coming to the library at 10am and finished at 5pm, no matter how little I wrote that day. Of course, there are “overtimes” when I got the inspiration. I even worked to 3am, missing the only morning London was covered in snow during my LLM year, before a meeting with my supervisor to ensure it will be an effective one.

 

I got a distinction for the dissertation. However, when I sent it to JIDS, they request “major” revision. The request was given with comments and suggestions from high calibre academics that did not sugarcoat anything, pointing every deficiency in my writing. I admit my heart sank and I was distressed that the distinction grade does not guarantee publication. Nevertheless, those comments and suggestions are the constructive criticisms I needed.

 

I submitted the first draft manuscript on October 2015, after much revisions I finally got the unconditional offer of publication on December 2016. Therefore, I spent more than two years on this article.

 

I would like to say that this is another gift from London. However, I realised it is not. It is a reward, but I earned it. I paid for it in full.

 

You can read the full text article here. Alternatively, you can download the pdf copy JIDS-2017-Sanubari-idw026

 

Your comments and criticisms are highly appreciated.

 

I am happy that I contributed something to the development of law. I received so much and it feels good to give back something. To create something that will be a precedent. I stood on the shoulders of giants. And it feels good knowing someone will stand on my shoulders.

 

P.S. I still regret that I did not wake up to see the snow (see picture, taken by @adindaaditha). Come to think of it, I should have been okay if I was sleep deprived for one day.

Snow in Tavistock Court

Originally posted on Instagram on 19 January 2017.

January 19, 2017