In the aftermath of the 2004 tsunami, Indonesian graphic designers joined together and emerged as activists for social and political change. I became involved in the Indonesian Graphic Design Forum (FDGI) in July 2005, an organization that spearheaded some notable design events to raise awareness and aid in recovery efforts for victims of the tsunami.

TSUNAMI: A CATALYST TO CHANGE
The 29-year armed conflict in Aceh between the Free Aceh Movement (GAM) and the Indonesian government—which victimized thousands of civilians—was suspended on Dec. 26, 2004, when the tsunami devastated the region. The Aceh earthquake sent its tsunami waves across nations, sweeping away certain coasts of Thailand, India, Sri Lanka, and Africa, killing hundreds of thousands and uprooting the lives of millions. Ironically this was the catalyst to the road to peace between the two opposing parties.

Opening its doors to international aid, visual communications initially played a crucial role in the recovery efforts in Indonesia by exposing the crisis through mass media to the world with vivid images of human tragedy to increase awareness, sympathy, and ultimately raise funds. “The broadcasts were heartbreaking. But seeing this repeated every day for months was enough! It’s about the people of Aceh. Their tragedy is being exploited,” confided Paulus, a local architect.

The Rehabilitation and Reconstruction Board for Aceh and Nias (BRR) was formed by the government and participating national and international organizations on April 16, 2005. It was a unified effort to channel collected funds to the victims, rebuild infrastructure and housing, and help revive the regional economy by generating trade and commerce.

Local designers and artists did their own part to support Aceh’s recovery. One of the most exceptional events was a poster exhibition organized by FDGI, called Light of Hope for Indonesia, which took place Sept. 7–11, 2005. Its purpose was to encourage and motivate hope among the victims of the tragedy by communicating positive messages. Most critics recognize propaganda as a negative or more aggressively manipulative form of communication that persuades or influences large masses into acting according to the intended agenda of the communicator. According to Lucy Lippard in Propaganda for Propaganda, however, propaganda can be positive by being socially and aesthetically aware, provoking a new way of seeing and thinking about what goes on around us. “In presenting the suffering caused by the tsunami so far, the mass media has played on our bloodlust,” Alex Supartono explains in The Faces of Survivors.

Light of Hope avoided using gruesome visuals because it intended to heal instead of frighten or prolong trauma. This “new way of seeing” proliferated hope and motivation as a spiritual therapy. The exhibition was also a relevant example of how visual communication can independently advocate socially and politically by collaborating with private and international sources for a regional cause. The FDGI benefited as well from that campaign, acquiring recognition and support for furthering its organizational agenda. Of course, it makes one wonder what was being propagated—the posters, the designers, the messages, the organization, or all of the above?

IN THE MARGINS: REACTIVE VISUAL ARTS IN INDONESIA
Contemporary Indonesian art arose from the desire to defend against aggression. From 1945–1949 poster and mural artists initiated resistance against recolonization. (The Dutch colonized Indonesia for 350 years until 1942, losing it to Japan. The Japanese surrendered Indonesia to Allied Forces in 1945). In guerilla fashion, the artists encouraged activism using poetic images of contemplation as well as illustrating patriotism, heroism, and perseverance. After the “independence revolution,” the arts and the government began a love-hate relationship. The Indonesian government found the arts to be instrumental for political campaigns, but when social realism reached its zenith in the mid 1960s, the newly installed dictatorial government of Soeharto (aka Suharto) began censoring the arts. It violently shut down and muted many “reactionary” artistic movements, like the socialist LEKRA movement. Despite heavy monitoring and censorship, the 1970s and ’80s “Gerakan Seni Rupa Baru”—the New Art Movement—reintroduced the arts into social and political experiences. Social reflective art blossomed after Soeharto resigned in 1998.

Indonesian artists and designers, many of whom were once social and political activists, survived by going commercial. Over time some even established celebrity status. Some critics argued that this was a good thing. It enabled the artist to flexibly move around the system. From the perspective of visual engagement in social activist causes, this notion would have been more encouraging if all artists had been socially conscious. But there has not been a significant social campaign through the arts in Indonesia in the last decade, and now artists have been challenged with censorship and pornography laws—for example, public demonstrations against the release of Playboy magazine in Indonesia and the “Pinkswing Park” fine art installation piece—adding a new urgency to questions about the functions of art and design in politics and culture.