2 Saving Batavia
Introduction: A Vision of Jakarta’s Past and Future
I
f you leave aside South Jakarta’s
business corridor, the high-priced
restaurants and the city’s many
shopping malls, what are you going
to do in a metropolis desperately
short of public spaces?
Where in Jakarta can you escape the
pollution, traffic and pressure for a stroll
through shaded streets, a coffee at
a sidewalk cafe, a visit to an art gallery
and a chance to enjoy the architectural
treasures of a forgotten time?
Nowhere, is the obvious answer.
At least not yet. But if the decaying
treasures of old Batavia, the
neighborhood now known as
Kota Tua, or Old Town, could be salvaged
from more than a half-century of neglect,
a gem would be revealed that could
become an oasis of calm for city
residents and a money-spinning tourist
attraction for visitors to Jakarta, most of
whom just hurry through their hours
here, anxious to change planes for Bali.
For now, of course, apart from the
partially restored splendor of Taman
There is life yet: skateboarding
by night off Fatahillah Square. 
JG Photo/Afriadi Hikmal
Jakarta  Globe Saturday/Sunday, April 4/5, 2009
CONTENTS Fatahillah and the old Dutch city hall,
Kota Tua is largely a mess. Historic
The Origins structures are falling down, trees grow
A city built on through collapsed roofs. There are seedy
blood and spice.......3-5 nightspots, traffic chaos and little in the
A graveyard way of economic vitality.
of Europeans................. 3
Old city hall’s We see it differently. Kota Tua is a
murderous past..........5
treasure, one of the largest stands of
original colonial-era architecture in Asia.
The Obstacles
Refurbished, rezoned and allowed to
Old Batavia is
bound by red tape...... 1 flourish in a public-private partnership —
the outlines of which are in a master plan
The Solution being considered by the Jakarta
Today’s master governor’s office — Kota Tua could, and
plan, with map..............8 we think should, take its place alongside
Bicycle tours................10 the other architectural marvels of Asia.
Asian cities that did
guard the past............ 12 That the 17th century Dutch had the
Cafe Batavia cuts power and the temerity to think they
a lonely path.................13 could recreate their vision of Europe in a
In Chinatown............... 15 tropical outpost rife with disease may be
Interview with looked upon now as imperial madness.
Jakarta Governor However, the fact that much of this early
Fauzi Bowo...................16 history remains standing, having evaded
destruction through war or a developer’s
bulldozer, is a reality that the current
Cover: JG Photo/ generation, separated from the bitterness
Afriadi Hikmal of the colonial legacy, can now reclaim.
As this special report shows, Kota Tua
is integral to Jakarta’s history, and can
be a big part of Jakarta’s future.
In its rush over five decades to expand
and modernize, Jakarta has largely
forgotten its past. Kota Tua is in trouble.
The exquisite historic buildings around
Taman Fatahillah are crumbling. The
grand old boulevard along the Kali Besar
canal reeks of stagnant water. The small
shop-houses, some providing refuge for
squatters, might as well be occupied by
ghosts, given how eerie they look after
sundown. Similar treasures in Chinatown
and the old Arab district bear the scars of
neglect. The whole place could fade to
little more than a memory.
But given aggressive leadership and a
vision of creative change, a city desperate
for beauty and calm amid the urban
sprawl could benefit immensely from a
revitalized and reborn Kota Tua.
We offer this selection of articles as a
starting point for debate, a celebration of
the past and a reminder of the treasure in
our midst. Let’s not let it fade to dust.
Saturday/Sunday, April 4/5, 2009 Jakarta  Globe
The Origins
A City Built on Blood and Spice
Building a vision of Holland in the tropics
was an act of often-deadly imperial hubris
Report Charles Anderson & Jennifer Blake
T
rees poke their way
through the
collapsed roofs of
colonial buildings,
pockets of sunlight
illuminate cracked
concrete and rotten
floorboards.
Hollow laughter echoes through
underwater prisons as children
swim in the dirty water, oblivious to
the cold walls that once bore witness
to torture and horrifying death.
This is old Batavia, for centuries
the heart of Dutch rule here and one
of the most complete groupings of
colonial-era architecture in Asia,
albeit now mostly in a state of decay,
save a few restored structures. The
crumbling facades in the district,
however, speak to the distant
memory of Holland’s Asian past,
reminders that this faded city was a
town of ghosts long before
Indonesian nationalism triumphed
over the colonizers. This was a city
bought at a cost. Thousands
perished on the treacherous journey
from Europe, hundreds died in its
defense and epidemics saw
thousands of its imported citizens
succumb to tropical diseases. In
Holland, schoolyard tales of the
fantastical colonial outpost gave
way to terrible tales of Batavia,
the “graveyard of the Europeans”
(see box at right).
With the departure of the Dutch
in 1949, the buildings, warehouses
and other remnants of old Batavia
were allowed to crumble thanks
to inaction by successive local
governments and an understandable
desire on behalf of the leaders of
independent Indonesia to forget the
colonial past and forge a new history.
For Ro King, chairwoman of the
Indonesian Heritage Society, a nation
moves forward by understanding the
disparate parts of its past. “There are
negative parts and there are positive
parts, but understanding it is part of
the whole mix,” she says.
And Batavia is a mix. Its creation
in the 17th century was due to a
fascination with spices: cloves,
pepper, nutmeg — the holy trinity of
the Asian spice trade — were the
treasure that drew Java’s Western
colonizers here and led the Dutch to
seize the archipelago. By the end of
A map of Batavia in 1887, from the collection of the Algemmen Rijksarchief,
The Hague.  Reprinted from “Batavia in Nineteenth Century Photographs”
1601, six years after the first
exploratory ship arrived from
Holland, another 65 vessels had
sailed to the East Indies.
The next year, the Dutch changed
the face of modern commerce by
establishing the Dutch East India
Company, or VOC, a monopoly with
enormous power. According to
historian Lilie Suratminto, “It was a
bit like a state. They made their own
money and recruited soldiers to
defend their empire.”
The fourth governor general of
the Dutch East Indies, Jan
Pieterszoon Coen, believed the
ideal spot for the capital of this
new empire was on the banks of a
slow-flowing river called the
Ciliwung, on Java’s north coast
opposite a village called Jayakarta.
Saving Batavia
Historian Andy Alexander
describes how the first settlers were
received by the people they came to
call Batavians, today the Betawi. “At
first, the Dutch were greeted as
friends. The Javanese believed they
were merchants.”
Before long, a great gathering of
Europeans made their way to what
would soon be named Batavia. Small
armies of Dutchmen worked as
merchants, traders, bankers,
surveyors, soldiers, farmers,
engineers and tax collectors. They
were dedicated to one mission:
making money. As the VOC
monopolized the coast, their
relationship with the Javanese
quickly changed for the worse.
Afraid of attacks by the local
population, the Dutch first created a
series of high wooden palisades
around their enclave, but after 30
years of mounting insecurity, the
governor general set aside funds to
enclose an area of about a square
mile behind a formidable stone wall.
“It said to the Javanese, ‘We have
built the wall — we are here but we
are not for you,’ ” says Serrano
Sianturi of the Sacred Bridge
Cultural Foundation.
Today, there is little to remind
anyone of the settlement those walls
once protected, but in 1628 they held
strong under fierce attack from the
sultan of Central Java.
One hundred thousand of the
sultan’s Mataram soldiers
descended on Batavia equipped
with nothing more than pikes and
an attitude of such determination
that Alexander says it transcended
reason. For two years they laid siege,
scaling the walls at night in the hope
of catching the VOC off guard. The
strategy failed, repeatedly.
“This was a system of battle
Crumbling which they did not know how to
fight. Walls were a European import.
facades are So they had nothing,” Alexander
says. The Mataram soldiers’ attempts
reminders were met with volleys of musket fire
and a long fall to their death.
that this faded Eventually the sultan’s troops
failed, and for that they would be
city was a punished. Seven hundred and
eighty-eight men were tied to trees
town of ghosts and systematically run through
with the same pikes they had used
long before in their failed attacks. Those that
were able to fled on foot into the
nationalism surrounding jungle.
Two years of battle with the
triumphed over sultan burned many bridges for the
Dutch settlers. According to Scott
the colonizers Merrillees, a history buff and
Continued overleaf
3
A Graveyard
Of Europeans
O
f the one million
people shipped to the
East Indies during the
two centuries that the
Dutch East India
Company, or Vereenigde
Oost-Indische Compagnie, ruled
Indonesia, only 320,000
returned home.
For many, a posting in
Holland’s supposed jewel city,
Batavia, was a long and slow
death sentence. The harsh climate
and unfamiliar ways of life took
their toll on many newcomers to
the Indies and diseases such as
cholera, dysentery and typhus
made no distinction between VOC
officials, soldiers and slaves.
In the early 17th century, the
sea voyage from Europe usually
lasted between nine months and
a year. During this time, sailors
slept outdoors at the mercy of the
elements. Sanitation was
rudimentary, even by the
standards of the day. In times of
hardship, sailors were forced to
eat rats to survive.
The early days of sea travel
were filled with pestilence and
risk. Galleons would leave
overstaffed with a crew of 200
and arrive in the Indies with less
than half of those who had set
out. Even as navigation and travel
times improved, at least 10
percent of travelers died at sea.
Upon arrival, many sailors died
unloading goods amid
treacherous waves and winds.
But it was the deadly scourge
of malaria that would really
decimate early Batavia. The
epidemics of the 1730s and 1740s
ravaged the old city. Shiploads of
settlers and officials were sent to
replace the thousands who were
dying, but the places could not
be filled fast enough.
Valuable cargo gathered
dust in warehouses, as vessels
destined to return to the
Netherlands floated idle in
Batavia’s harbor due to a lack
of crew. Batavia’s population
declined rapidly.
Many factors were to blame.
By the mid-1700s, the beachside
castle that the Dutch had built
upon arrival in the Indies lay more
than two kilometers inland. The
space in between had become a
deadly swamp in which
mosquitoes bred and disease
festered. Polluted canals, rotting
corpses in poorly maintained
graveyards and constant flooding
of various work projects all
played their part.
Wherever the blame lay, the
statistics are chilling. Before 1733,
only 500 VOC employees died
from disease each year, but the
death toll in each of the following
years topped 3,000 people.
Disease raged uncontrollably in
the old city, and in the 1730s
50 percent of new arrivals were
dead within their first six months
in Batavia.   Jennifer Blake
4 Saving Batavia
From previous page
collector of old Batavian images,
“Relations between the Dutch and
their Javanese subjects did not
improve for well over a century. It
forced the VOC to rely upon the
Chinese for labor, trade and even
negotiations between the many
groups living in the port city.”
By the 18th century, the
Europeans were outnumbered by
the Chinese sixfold and the Dutch
had unwittingly allowed the
Chinese to form the backbone of the
economy. As trading expanded to
include cotton, porcelain, tea and
Chinese goods, the cargoes of
visiting mainland Chinese junks
became increasingly valuable. Of
less value were the hundreds of
immigrants the ships brought with
them. “The Batavian economy could
not support so many newcomers,
and destined for unemployment and
starvation, many Chinese who
settled outside the walls turned to
thievery,” Alexander says.
In 1740, Governor General
Valckenier began to arrest the
unemployed Chinese and deport
them to the Dutch enclaves in
Ceylon, now Sri Lanka. Beyond the
city walls, however, rumors of a very
different nature were circulating.
“It was the belief of the Chinese
that these unfortunate immigrants
were actually being dumped at sea,
and these rumors, though
unfounded, spread quickly,”
according to Alexander.
Armed gangs soon formed outside
the city, attacking outposts and
protesting at the base of the walls. As
city dwellers panicked and Chinese
traders within the walls closed their
doors, Valckenier ordered all Chinese
homes searched for arms.
Fire broke out, and in the ensuing
confusion soldiers, sailors, slaves
and Dutch citizens rushed into the
streets, plundering Chinese houses
and murdering thousands.
According to historian Adolf
Heuken, Valckenier had no mercy,
giving orders to kill all Chinese
prisoners and patients in a local
Chinese hospital. Behind the Dutch
city hall, which today houses the
Jakarta History Museum, 500
Chinese prisoners were called one
by one into the courtyard and
executed. The canals were blocked
Jakarta  Globe Saturday/Sunday, April 4/5, 2009
with corpses and blood ran through From 1650 to today: two views of the Europeans.” The East Indies was constructed hospitals and filled in
the streets. An estimated 7,000 Kali Besar. At left, the thriving canal now the last resting place of many the festering canals of the old city.
homes were reduced to ashes, and at full of traders and walkers; at right the who had come seeking fortune but To do so, he used slave labor, and
least 5,000 Chinese were killed, modern canal, stinking with pollution found only disease and despair. thousands of Javanese conscripts
according to popular estimates. and soullessly devoid of people.  Daendels’ determination was perished under his guiding hand.
The true reach of the carnage — Illustration courtesy of Andy Alexander, matched only by his cruelty. He tore But in 1811, within three years of
an eerie foreshadowing of the tense JG Photo/Safir Makki down the indefensible walled city, his arrival, Daendels was to lose
racial relations that persist in and built new fortifications further Batavia to Great Britain during its
Indonesia — would be felt well beyond Below, from left: only small elements inland. In his short tenure he built time of empire-building in Asia.
that year. While Valckenier was in Kota Tua have retained their charm, roads that cut transport times by Dutch rule would be restored in
arrested for his role in the massacre, such as the fishing boats of Sunda days, facilitating trade at a rate never 1816, but its time of true colonial
the real price of the violence was Kelapa, the Maritime Museum and its before imagined. The 1,000km dominion was over, even if it would
paid by the city, because after the historic cannons, the statue of Hermes Great Post Road between Jakarta and hang on to the archipelago — more
Chinese fled beyond Batavia’s walls and the dome of Fatahillah Square’s Surabaya is still one of the most or less — for another 133 years.
the economy collapsed. old city hall.  JG Photos/ Afriadi Hikmal, important roads in northern Java, The rest of the 19th century saw
The incident was the beginning Yudhi Sukma Wijaya, Safir Makki now called Jalur Pantura. Daendels Dutch rulers seeking to expand
of the end for the VOC. Riddled with
corruption, and soon to be crippled
by debts, the company was gravely
wounded, and its empire in what is
now Malaysia, Sri Lanka and
Indonesia was fraying at the edges.
Deadly epidemics of malaria in
the 1730s became so severe that the
VOC could not fill the places of those
who died. The company was
weakened, and the British Empire
was ready to exploit that weakness.
By 1796 the British Navy had taken
control of the Dutch outer trading
posts, and frequently blockaded the
harbor that was the lifeblood of the
Dutch colony.
In an attempt to thwart the
British and protect Dutch assets in
the East, the king of Holland
absorbed the VOC into the crown at
the end of the 18th century. He sent
Marshal Herman Willem Daendels
from Holland to rebuild Batavia.
“The glory days were over,”
Merrillees says. “Daendels was sent
to ‘fix’ the city he had grown up
hearing grand tales of, but what he
arrived at was the Graveyard of the
Saturday/Sunday, April 4/5, 2009 Jakarta  Globe
their territory in Indonesia, and
consolidate control over islands
beyond Java. A 30-year-war in Aceh,
which did not come to an end until
1904, was particularly influential in
weakening the colonial power.
As the Dutch continued to
expand their influence in the early
20th century, conquering most of
the territory that now makes up the
Republic of Indonesia, Islam was
also expanding its influence. The
cohesive power of a shared religion,
coupled with the intellectual power
of a new, politically-motivated elite,
gave birth to Indonesia’s nationalist
movement, which would eventually,
following Japan’s occupation during
World War II, succeed in winning
independence for Indonesia.
When the Japanese surrendered,
the Dutch desperately tried to win
back control of their receding
empire. But as a visiting French
scholar observed in 1940, “Jakarta
was neither Europe nor the Orient; it
is a plot of ground on which for some
centuries the Dutch have pitched
their tents.” The time had come for
the Dutch to relinquish their
camping ground.
This was a physical turning point,
not just psychological: founding
President Sukarno moved the center
of the city out of Batavia and into
what is now Central Jakarta, and the
old city began to fall into disrepair.
For decades, the history of the city
was for the most part ignored as the
new nation’s leaders sought to play
down the Dutch colonial period.
But the story still has meaning,
even for the indigenous peoples of
Java — for those who welcomed the
initial traders and for those who
fought the Dutch in 1628.
The colonial encounter, bitter as it
was for so many, not only affected
Saving Batavia
Indonesia’s political heritage, but
vastly altered Javanese cultural
values. Sianturi of Sacred Bridge says,
“When the Europeans monopolized
the seas, our marine culture was
transformed into a land culture. We
changed from being a patient and
daring people on the seas to being
patient and caring on the land.”
The Dutch “froze” indigenous
culture, Sianturi argues.
“Now it is time to defrost our
history, to reclaim our culture,” he
says. “If we defrost it and really look
at it, only then can we preserve it
and learn from it better.” ■
‘It is time to
defrost our
history, to
reclaim our
culture. Only if
we defrost it
and really look
at it can we
preserve it and
learn from it.’
Serrano Sianturi,
Sacred Bridge
Cultural Foundation
5
Old City Hall’s
Grisly Past
T
hese days, the view from
the balcony of the old
Dutch city hall building
in Taman Fatahillah is
peaceful. Children climb
on cannons long silent, while
hawkers peddle their wares to the
handful of bewildered tourists.
No signs or artifacts recall the
brutality once common in this
square. It was from this same
balcony that Dutch East India
Company judges would watch
their brutal brand of justice be
dispensed to unfortunate subjects.
Punishments for a range of
crimes against the colonial
masters were swift and brutal.
Confessions were often extracted
under torture and sentences
passed without mercy. While petty
crimes were met with whips and
beatings, some would bear the
scars of stealing forever — their
shoulders branded with the coat
of arms of the Dutch East India
Company. Adulterers were jailed
or locked in stocks for days.
Perpetrators were usually sent
to death for more violent crimes.
Many were drawn and quartered,
their remains left for the carrion
birds that hovered on weekends
as the square ran red with blood.
Conspiracy against Dutch rule
bore the greatest punishment.
In 1771, Pieter Erberveld was
one of the richest men in Batavia
but was denied entry to the inner
circle of the elite because he was
the Eurasian son of a German
father and Burmese mother. When
he dared challenge the governor
general over a property matter, his
wealth could not protect him. He
was accused of conspiring to
murder the official and incite an
uprising along with a Javanese
prince, Raden Kartadria. Erberveld
confessed under torture.
Before a crowd in the sunny city
square, Erberveld was pinned to a
cross with meat cleavers. His chest
was torn open and his heart ripped
out, runs one account in the book
“Dari Stadhuis Sampai Museum”
(From City Hall to Museum) by
Hans Bonke and Anne Handojo.
His broken body was quartered
and his remains fed to the birds. A
warning was etched into stone for
anyone who might emulate
Erberveld’s alleged treachery. The
2-meter-high slab stands in the city
hall’s courtyard today as a
reminder of past wrongs.
Tourists who see the building’s
cramped cells might think the
shackles and concrete balls are just
window dressing. They would be
wrong. They might be shocked to
learn the manacles have a far more
recent history. Following the 1965
aborted coup in Jakarta, many
accused communist sympathizers
were also imprisoned there.
Modern political prisoners were
held in the same cells where
Chinese prisoners once stooped
and Erberveld was shackled to
await his death.  Jennifer Blake
6 Saving Batavia Jakarta  Globe Saturday/Sunday, April 4/5, 2009

The Obstacles
Old Batavia Is Wrapped in Red Tape
The botched renovation of Fatahillah Square is he told the Jakarta Globe in an
exclusive interview (see page 16).
30 years or more has sought his
advice consulted him on revitalizing

an example of the problems of bureaucracy “I think all Jakartans should be

proud to have this heritage. We
cannot leave it the way it is.
Report Hera Diani “All of us should have the
the rest of the historic district. He
has seen a lot of talk and he does not
expect miracles.
“Every governor is interested

S
itting in his office,
West Jakarta
Mayor Djoko
Ramadhan seemed
overwhelmed by the
charts and graphics
flashing before his
eyes on a projector
screen during a recent briefing on
historic preservation. Maybe he is a
glutton for punishment, but Djoko
chairs such sessions every two
weeks with his staff, urban
planners, conservation activists and
other stakeholders. The method
behind the marathon meetings is to
vet and approve the latest master
plan aimed at revitalizing Kota Tua.
During these meetings, dozens of
khaki-clad civil servants pack into a
conference room and answer
questions barked out by Djoko, a
laser pointer in his hand, who takes
a special interest because most of
the Kota district is under the
administration of West Jakarta.
Problems related to the latest
master plan from the Jakarta
Governor’s Office — the ninth
since 1991 — emerge one by one.
Staffers from the city transportation
office raise the issue of a lack of
parking spaces and the need to ease
traffic congestion in Kota Tua.
A subdistrict chief mentions the
difficulties in securing the area
from thugs, homeless people and
buskers. Local building owners
complain about land disputes,
pollution and crime.
Just when it seems everyone has
had enough for the day, a staffer
from the public works office stands
and reveals that her section, which
is undergoing an organizational
restructuring, has earmarked
Rp 66 billion ($5.5 million) in the
annual budget to clean up the
foul-smelling Kali Besar, the main
canal in the old quarter.
“What?! Who said anything
about cleaning up the river? Why
did no one tell me about it?” Djoko
asks, frowning. “Postpone it, please,
don’t waste any money. It’s not time
yet to clean the river.”
So when will it be the time? Not
just to clean the stagnant, foul-
smelling river, but to finally do
something to preserve and revitalize
old Batavia, a potential world-class
attraction and living historic
monument? Having been mayor
for only nine months, Djoko still has
the idealistic drive to resurrect Old
Town and its environs, whose
grand 18th century colonial-style
buildings, newer art deco structures,
a 16th century Chinese temple, old
mosques and Moorish houses are a
testament to Jakarta’s rich history.
But such visions have come and gone
with other city officials once they
see the magnitude of the task.
Still Standing
Once the center of Java’s economic
and political universe, successive
Indonesian administrations gave up
on Old Town more than a half
century ago, moving Jakarta’s
development south. In recent
decades, Kota has lagged behind as
the southern corridor sprouted tall
buildings, posh subdivisions and
lavish shopping malls.
While the former “Queen of the
East” is now plagued by air and
water pollution, traffic congestion,
and drainage problems, there is
some virtue to neglect. True, most of
the historic buildings are abandoned
and decaying, some inhabited by
squatters who live in fear of street
thugs, but they are standing. In other
cities in Asia, the wrecking ball has
long cleared away most historic
architecture. The struggle is how to
turn what is left of old Batavia to
modern Jakarta’s advantage.
Jakarta Governor Fauzi Bowo is
trying to be the first city leader since
the late Ali Sadikin in the 1970s to
make use of Jakarta’s past. He
carried the latest revitalization
master plan over from the last
administration, when he was deputy
governor, and activists say he’s
committed to pulling it off despite
continuing skepticism.
In reference to past efforts, Fauzi
is plain: “It seems like we got stuck,”
obligation and responsibility to
make this urban heritage our asset,
an interesting object to be visited.
Not only for tourism at large, but
those interested in the history of
Jakarta.”
Fauzi clearly has a convert in
Djoko, who is a kindred spirit of sorts.
“I think this time will be
different because both Djoko and
Fauzi are engineers,” whispered
one of Djoko’s subordinates during
the recent briefing. The two
officials should understand the task
— they have degrees in civil
engineering and urban planning,
respectively, and are now in a
position to make a real policy to
save Kota Tua.
Soedarmadji “Aji” Damais, a
museum and culture expert, was
the brains behind the successful
effort to save Taman Fatahillah
in the 1970s, and every city
administration during the past
“I would live here, but not with
this crazy traffic and pollution.”
Campaigner Ella Ubaidi bought a
run-down 19th century shophouse
with trees growing up through the
middle of it , but won’t renovate it
until the city government commits
to a coherent revialization plan.  come here anymore. Businesses also
JG Photos/Yudhi Sukma Wijaya
[in the revitalization]. They always
come to me and it becomes
repetitive,” he said. “There are
at least 10 master plans, but no
implementation.”
It all boils down to a planning
problem, Aji says, because Indonesia
lacks sufficient skills to get the job
done right.
“We did a great job in the 1970s
when we developed the Old Town
and built museums there,” he said
of the rehabilitation of the old
square at the heart of Kota Tua.
“But it was not enough to go on, as
human resources were lacking.
Nobody had a clue about how to
start building hotels, how to
manage traffic and so on.”
While the current plan envisions
Kota as a world-class tourist
attraction and local entertainment
center, Kota survived as an economic
hub in the 1980s and 1990s mainly
because of cheap electronic goods.
Marco Kusumawijaya, an urban
planner and chairman of the
Jakarta Arts Council, said in those
days people were willing to fight
the traffic all the way to Kota to
find good food and gadgets. That
lure is no longer sufficient to keep
the area going.
“Now, there are many competitors
in other parts of the city,” he said.
“And with the congestion and lack of
infrastructure, not that many people
moved to other areas.”
Saturday/Sunday, April 4/5, 2009 Jakarta  Globe
Translating Plans into Action
Another problem, said Ade Tinamei,
an urban designer from the Center
for Urban Design Studies in
Bandung, is that no one has been
able to translate the numerous
studies and master plans into an
actionable program. “There have
been no strategic steps, focus,
coordination … Basically, a lack of
good urban management,” she said.
In 2007, for example, a team
appointed by former Governor
Sutiyoso and led by Bank Indonesia
Deputy Governor Miranda Goeltom
started a renovation project in
Taman Fatahillah, the heart of the
district and the only area that has
undergone any serious restoration.
The square was closed to traffic;
jackhammers tore up the old
pavement, raised the height of the
square and installed aesthetically-
pleasing cobblestones, drainage
systems and ground lighting at a
cost of $5 million.
But motorcycles that illegally
drive through the square have since
smashed up some of the lights, and
the new pavement, which is
somewhat elevated, blocks the doors
of some historic buildings adjacent
to the square, making it impossible
for their owners and residents to get
inside. (The building owners are
considering filing a lawsuit against
the city administration.) Garbage
bins, signs and street art in the form
of stone balls surrounding the
square, installed with support from
local activists, were stolen one by
one, with only a few of these touches
remaining.
Building owners, in particular,
are upset about the failed makeover.
“The renovation team never
consulted us. They installed the
cobblestone until it touched up
against our buildings,” said
Jacky, chairman of the Old City
Building Owners Association.
“We have protested to both the
consultant of the project and the
city administration, but they ended
up blaming each other.”
When heavy rains come, water
seeps into the buildings due to the
elevated position of the street and
the fact that there are no gutters,
which has forced building owners to
install pumps to get the water out,
Jacky said.
“The team also planted coconut
trees, and they covered the
buildings so that the windows
cannot be opened,” said Ella Ubaidi,
a local building owner and co-
founder of Jakarta Old Town
Kotaku, a seven-member committee
that is pushing the government to
revive the area. “One company even
moved because of the passing traffic
and the mistakes in the renovation,”
she said, as she walked through the
square recently.
And those are only half the
problems. Local building owners
such as Ubaidi, who bought a
dilapidated, 19th century,
400-square meter shop house with
trees growing in the middle of it, are
refusing to renovate their properties
until the city administration publicly
commits to a comprehensive
revitalization program.
“To make this area lively again, I
think people should be lured to live
here,” she said. “I would live here,
but not with this crazy traffic and
pollution.”
Lacking Incentives
Bureaucratic red tape is also a major
obstacle to the conservation and
revitalization of Kota Tua, say owners
who have dealt with the system.
First, the owner must go to the
city planning office and inform
them about the particulars of their
historic building. The office then
determines whether the building is
Category A (cannot be touched),
Category B (the facade cannot be
changed) or Category C (the
structure can be rebuilt).
“The office decides what to do.
And then there is also the transfer of
development rights. The system is
not flexible,” Ubaidi said. “The laws
and the gubernatorial decree on the
area are also not detailed; they only
state that this is a preservation area.”
Kota Tua’s preservation status
has also sent land and development
prices in the area through the roof.
Renovating an historic home can
cost Rp 8 million ($696) per square
meter — four times higher than
building a new house — and even
more for larger buildings. There are
also no tax breaks for the owners of
heritage buildings, a key incentive of
many successful international
historic renovations.
“There are opportunities to reuse
the buildings for new activities. The
problems are, the government does
not have enough money, owners are
not given incentives, and regulations
are insufficient and contradictory,”
Kusumawijaya said. “The Kota area
needs investment, but who will
invest if the area is too chaotic?”
Numerous urban planners have
proposed changes to the area, he
said, but the city has never made it a
priority. In addition, there are 22
historic buildings owned by the
‘For the last 30 years, people have
been tinkering, but it will not go
far — stop the piecemeal projects’
Marco Kusumawijaya, urban planner
Saving Batavia 7
The 2007 renovations in
Fatahillah Square have drawn
anger, from coconut trees planted
so close to buildings that windows
cannot be opened, to obstructive
paving in the square and
decorative stone balls, many
of which have been stolen. 
JG Photos/Afriadi Hikmal
central government around
Taman Fatahillah that sit empty in a
potentially prime business location
because of government restrictions
on using them for commercial
purposes and limits on how long they
can be leased out to private investors.
“For the last 30 years, people have
been tinkering, but it will not go far
— stop the piecemeal projects,”
Kusumawijaya said. “There has to be
a special team with the authority
and capacity to make plans and
create a special law and regulations.
And this team should be overseen by
a board. We have to accept the reality
that this is a special area.”
The problem is that the city has
never seen Old Town as anything
different from other parts of Jakarta.
For example, the tax rate for building
renovation or construction in the
Kota Tua area is Rp 4 million per
square meter — the same as in the
Sudirman Central Business District.
However, Ro King, chairwoman
of the Indonesian Heritage Society,
said that simply blaming the city
administration — which has a
limited budget and numerous other
priorities like clean water, traffic
management and education — was a
cop-out. One solution, she said,
would be to have the central
government give tax breaks to
corporations and individuals who
make donations to conservation
projects, and to make it easier for
nongovernmental organizations to
accept them.
“There is no structure in place to
charge people or ask for donations,”
she said. “There aren’t many
precedents of giving to historic
preservation. With people still
nervous about giving money to a
foundation, there should be
professional managers to oversee
donations.”
While the right plans and
strategies are still being debated in
the halls of the West Jakarta
Mayor’s office, many
conservationists have warned that
the clock is ticking as buildings
decay further and people and
businesses flee the area.
At stake is the heart of a unique
old city. Get it right, and tourists and
locals will flock to admire the old
buildings, dine in renovated
surroundings and stay in nearby
hotels and apartments that would
spring up to support the interest in a
neighborhood like no other. But do
nothing — or, worse, get it wrong
— and Kota Tua could simply decay
to dust. That process is already
under way.
10 Saving Batavia Jakarta  Globe Saturday/Sunday, April 4/5, 2009

The Living City

I Want to Ride My Bicycle:
Tripping Through Time

R
iding against the flow
of fast-moving traffic,
zigzagging between
gigantic container
trucks, you and your
bicycle tour driver inhale car
exhaust fumes and dust as you
barrel through Old Town. It’s not
exactly a picture of ecotourism.
And it’s not for the fainthearted.
But as with most other things
in Jakarta, smooth and calm
give way to irregularity and
danger and the result proves to
have its own charms.
You can easily spot the
drivers and their bikes at Taman
Fatahillah, the core of the old
city, as well as the beautiful
nearby Bank Mandiri Museum.
Modified antique bikes, known
as sepeda onthel, are lined up
neatly and their drivers, wearing
blue vests, take turns handling
the passengers, or accompany
them while they ride a bike on
their own.
The tour will cost you from
Rp 20,000 to Rp 30,000 ($1.74
to $2.61) per hour and the route
follows Taman Fatahillah-Sunda
Kelapa Port-Maritime Museum-
Syah Bandar Tower-Kota Intan
Bridge and ends at the Red
Shop.
Every driver knows a thing or
two about the history of the area
and the grand old buildings, and
can give a running history
lesson while skillfully riding
around the area.
The most knowledgeable
driver is perhaps Tarmuji, 44,
‘I wish the
government
paid more
who has been working as a
bicycle taxi driver in the area for
the past 13 years.
“I’m interested in history and
these old buildings. I sneak
inside old city tours and take
notes on what the guides say
about this area and the
buildings,” Tarmuji says.
He will tell you about the
history behind the museums in
the area, the old water system
built by the Dutch and so on
during his tour.
“I’m not that well-informed,
not like tour guides. But at least I
can give basic information about
the history of this area and the
old buildings,” he said.
Tarmuji manages 67 bicycles
and about 40 drivers stationed
at Taman Fatahillah and the
Bank Mandiri Museum. They
don’t just cater to tourists, but in
fact mostly serve office workers
in the area.
“Foreign tourists rarely take
bicycle tours. Most of them
come here with a tour bus or
van,” says Tarmuji, who earns
between Rp 30,000 and
Rp 40,000 a day.
In 2006, Tarmuji formed a
drivers community and was
chosen as its coordinator. The
Jakarta History Museum and
the city tourism office often
coordinate with him on
tourism-related issues in Old
Town, or Kota Tua.
A junior high school
graduate, Tarmuji aspires to
learn English so he can become
a tour guide. He also wants to
see the area developed so locals
can earn more money.
“I wish the government paid
more attention to us, the bicycle
taxi drivers,” he says. Steps away from the polished paving of Taman Fatahillah, the seedier side of Kota Tua comes out, with discos, streetwalkers
“They promised us uniforms
but we never got them. These
and dark alleys. Right, bemo drivers and warungs still abound near the bright lights of Kota station.  JG Photos/Afriadi Hikmal

attention to us’ vests we wear are from our own

initiative and we paid for them
with our own money.”  Continued from previous page
Tarmuji, bicycle taxi driver Hera Diani
started in 1926 as a modest
conservation campaign to save
crumbling 18th century homes and
buildings by a local pastor and
business tycoon John D. Rockefeller
Jr. evolved into one of the state’s top
tourist destinations.
“To have sustainable heritage,
you’re going to have to find a way to
make money out of it,” King says.
“Williamsburg is a money-spinner.”
The cultural and economic
opportunities in Kota Tua, sadly,
were lost on countless city
government and tourism officials
over the years, who stood by while
buildings wasted away or were torn
down and replaced by shopping
malls, says Budi Lim, a Jakarta-
based architect and conservation
The bicycle taxi drivers of Kota Tua are well-versed in their Jakarta activist. “The government doesn’t
history and offer lessons on the go.   JG Photo/Afriadi Hikmal know anything about
conservation,” he says. “They
started a destruction process
instead of revitalization because
they didn’t know what to do.”
A way forward
There’s widespread agreement
among city officials and
conservationists that Taman
Fatahillah will remain the heart of
Kota Tua. Among the ideas being
floated to improve the square
include the introduction of
“creative” industries — arts,
traditional weaving, an outdoor
theater for cultural performances
and even a branch campus of the
Jakarta Arts Institute.
Other historical enclaves, such as
Chinatown temples, old mosques in
the Arab quarter and the ruins of the
Kasteel Batavia fort near Sunda
Kelapa, will be promoted, as well as
other cultural aspects of each zone.
The colonial buildings, streets and
neighborhoods surrounding Taman
Fatahillah, heading northwest
across the Kali Besar canal, and
south toward Chinatown, will be
devoted to a mixture of residential
housing, retail stores, restaurants,
markets and office space to ensure
the area is self-sustaining, according
to the current master plan.
Without an economic base,
activists warn, Kota Tua would
revert to being a ghost town at night
once the tour buses roll away, and its
current seedy after-dark reputation
would remain. According to
Candrian Attahiyyat, head of the
master plan’s technical
implementation team, city residents
currently have the impression that
the area is “crowded, congestion
everywhere, not safe, slum areas,
vehicle traffic just passing through.”
The ambitious new plan, which
has yet to be formally unveiled,
doesn’t yet have a price tag but the
costs undoubtedly would have to be
Saturday/Sunday, April 4/5, 2009 Jakarta  Globe
‘She Is 14! Just Arrived From Her Village!’
How Dreams of Glamour Come to Kota to Die
S
upendi gets ready to go
home after another long
day shuttling passengers
around North and West
Jakarta in his bemo
mini-taxi. “It doesn’t have
headlights, so it can’t run in the
dark,” he says, explaining why he
can’t take me around, as the setting
sun streaks the Jakarta sky orange
and red.
Supendi is one of 80 or so bemo
drivers based near the Old Town’s
historic Kota train station. The
headlights of his 40-year-old
three-wheeler broke years ago, but
he never got around to fixing them.
The rusty old bemos with fading
paint and broken parts seem to
mirror the tattered glory of the
decaying buildings of Kota Tua. For
the most part, no one has gotten
around to fixing them either.
As night fell in the Old Town on
the day I met Supendi, I began to
learn about this part of old Jakarta.
After living in Bali for years, I arrived
in the capital as one of the millions
seeking a chance at a new life. I was
looking for a new career, new
friends, adventure and, perhaps, a
not-so-demanding lover.
The newspaper that now
employs me bears the name of the
city, and as a newcomer and features
reporter, my homework was clear:
quickly learn about Jakarta.
During my visits to various cafes
and bars, I often overhear people
talking about their lives and
dreams. Some speak of relatives
who are senior-ranking officials.
Wannabe actors talk of upcoming
auditions, business-minded
people discuss potential billion-
rupiah projects and others brag
about new cars or plans to travel to
some exotic corner of the world.
The conversations seem to be
soaked in the glamour of the city.
These Jakartans, with their big
plans and important relatives, are
imbued with immediacy and the
borne by a partnership between
government and the private sector,
city planners say. A comprehensive
approach is clearly needed, one that
has the support of business leaders,
politicians and residents.
The physical makeover will only
be half the battle, however.
According to urban planners,
conservationists and property
developers, the city administration
must either rewrite or draft new
zoning and land use regulations for
the 845-hectare conservation area
so that local residents and investors
can renovate historic buildings for
use as stores, homes and
restaurants, and do so affordably.
“The idea is to make incentives
and remove disincentives to cultural
preservation,” says Ade Tinamei, a
senior urban designer at the design
studies center in Bandung.
Adds Danisworo, the center’s
chairman: “The master plan must
struggle to be important in the city,
right now.
Yet only the past seems to cling
to the old city, Kota Tua, with its
neglected buildings and ghost-
town ambience.
Siswanto, a driver of a push-bike
taxi, or ojek sepeda, from
Semarang, Central Java Province,
agreed to take me around. He is one
of a few dozen bicycle taxi drivers
operating in the area. Absorbing
their knowledge while relaxing on a
slow-moving bike is the perfect way
to enjoy Kota Tua.
Cars, trucks and motorbikes
zoom past. Siswanto and I move
slowly. I can see details of the
buildings, cracks in the walls, holes
in doors, wild plants crawling up the
sides of the structures.
The stench of the canals fills the
air. Siswanto shares everything he
knows: this is the corner where
cheap drunks meet street
prostitutes late at night, here is the
bridge where middle-aged
prostitutes offer their services.
The sound of violins fills the night
air and Siswanto explains that
musicians sometimes come here to
practice. Three people are playing
Mozart’s “Requiem” at Taman
Fatahillah. It is haunting: they are
playing this piece for the dead on
the same site where the Dutch
administration once executed
condemned prisoners.
“This place was formerly a slum;
nobody dared to come here at
night. After the street lamps were
installed, things got better,”
Siswanto says, explaining that the
square is better off than it once
was. “Young people now come
here on dates.”
After that trip with Siswanto, I
joined a late-night walking trek
around Kota Tua with almost 100
other people, mostly history and
architecture lovers. We saw a
group of photographers doing a
shoot with beautiful models,
‘The government
doesn’t know
anything about
conservation.
They started a
destruction
process instead
of revitalization
because they
didn’t know
what to do.’
Budi Lim, architect and
conservation activist
Saving Batavia 11
members of a scooter club parked
with their old bikes next to the
Wayang Museum and various
groups of people scattered around
the square.
“During the Dutch years, this
place was popular for its nightlife
and pleasure,” said Dirgantara
Wicaksono, my guide for the night
trek, as we strolled across the
bridge connecting two sides of Old
Town. The flickering street lamps
reflected off the coal-black river
water.
For some, Kota Tua remains a
place for nightlife.
“That girl is a nice one: pretty,
submissive, she’ll do whatever you
like,” says Lita, introducing herself
as the “mommy,” or mama-san, of a
bar located just off the square.
Private rooms are available on the
second floor, for those seeking a
“pleasure massage,” she explains.
Small groups of people are
seated around me talking, but no
one in this place is talking about
business or travel to important
cities. This place, at this time of
night, is a different Jakarta.
I give a little smile to Lita and say,
“No, thanks.”
But she is persistent. “If you need
a younger one, I will introduce you
to Nana,” she says, calling for
another woman, who is really just a
girl. “She is 14 years old! Just arrived
from her village! Even her parents
are still here. They need the money.”
“She is inexperienced,” Lita
hisses in my ear. “I will accompany
her to give you the best service.”
The teenage girl, whose body
is still developing, is offered for
Rp 400,000 (about $35) as her
parents sit nearby hoping for a taker.
I never thought I’d be confronted
with this here. It saddened me, and
that night any glamour there was
about Jakarta, capital of hope for
some and broken dreams for this
girl, crumbled before my eyes. 
Benito Lopulan 
have clear guidelines for investors to
come in. They have not drafted it yet.”
Administering Change
Given the skepticism that the city
there are no incentives for the
[building] owners.”
The city administration will have
to consider what kind of businesses
administration can handle such a
colossal project, some urban
Jakarta native Ella Ubaidi, who
owns a decaying, late 19-century
can set up shop in the five protected
zones, how many foreign companies
planners and activists are
suggesting the creation of an
shop-house just off Taman
Fatahillah, dreams of a district
will be invited in and how to ensure
that local shopkeepers are not
autonomous governing body for
the protected area’s five zones,
similar to the old town area of
Pasadena, California, where she
driven away by high rental prices.
While a revitalized Kota Tua would
which would be responsible for
services such as security,
used to live. “There are shops,
boutiques, young and old people,”
be an international tourist
attraction — like Georgetown in
sanitation and public works, as well
as approving development projects
says Ubaidi, a leading activist in
Kota Tua. “Is it possible to turn this
Penang, Malaysia — the majority of
visitors would nonetheless be
and building permits for owners
and investors. The body would
area into a live place instead of dead
buildings?”
Indonesians, and development must
suit their tastes first.
report directly to the governor,
bypassing government
Dead buildings. That’s another
can of worms, not to mention a
“Do [planners] want a Starbucks
in the middle of a historic town?”
bureaucracy and limiting
corruption opportunities.
potential deal-breaker. At least 22
historic buildings located in prime
asks Masanori Nagaoka, a program
specialist with the United Nations
“You cannot go through this the
normal way and time is running
commercial areas around Taman
Fatahillah are owned by various
Educational, Scientific and Cultural
Organization, or Unesco, office in
out,” says Marco Kusumawijaya, an
urban planner and chairman of the
state-owned companies, but
ultimately are the property of the
Jakarta. “If they think it will work, Jakarta Arts Council. “The Ministry of Finance. Current state
yes. It’s up to the people living government doesn’t have the money
there.” to go it alone, the laws are bad and Continued on page 14
Saturday/Sunday, April 4/5, 2009 Jakarta  Globe
‘In 1970, we
were the
pioneers —
Singapore
hadn’t done it
and Bangkok
had nothing.
Ten years later,
we were left
behind.’
Soedarmadji “Aji” Damais
Tua has the potential to be a popular
cultural, shopping and lifestyle
district — if it doesn’t turn to dust first.
Last year, Georgetown, the
historic capital of Penang, Malaysia,
and the city of Melaka, were awarded
World Heritage Site status by the
United Nations Education, Scientific
and Cultural Organization, or Unesco.
The sites were touted as “living
testimony to the multicultural
heritage and tradition of Asia and
European colonial influences …
expressed in the great variety of
religious buildings of different faiths,
ethnic quarters, the many languages,
worship and religious festivals,
dances, costumes, art and music,
food, and daily life.” The declaration
could almost describe Kota Tua.
Elizabeth Cardoza, executive
director of the Heritage of Malaysia
Trust, said preservation efforts in
Georgetown and other historic areas,
including the capital Kaula Lumpur,
were easier because they largely
weren’t threatened by real estate
booms and modernization.
“In Kuala Lumpur there was much
more land available. It didn’t grow to
the point of Singapore, for example,
which lost so much of that physical
[appearance],” she said. “If you’re
talking about Hong Kong and
Singapore, there are land
constraints.”
In Hong Kong, the vast majority of
historic buildings are gone, victims of
building booms and government-
sponsored urban redevelopment
during the past five decades. Both the
government and local land owners
supported it because they benefited
financially from the drive to maximize
land use, which is the way the Hong
Kong government largely raises its
tax revenues. It wasn’t until the 1970s
that a small movement sprung up to
preserve Kong Kong’s historic sites.
“That was the Heritage Hong
Kong group … their main fight was
the Hong Kong Club Building, which
they failed to maintain. The other was
the railway station — they appealed
to [Queen Elizabeth II]
unsuccessfully,” says Paul
Zimmerman, co-founder of
Designing Hong Kong, a nonprofit
that promotes quality of life issues.
Today, there are only a handful of
colonial-era buildings still visible in
central Hong Kong, and Chinese-
style structures are mostly gone.
“Then nothing happened in a long
time, and everything was constantly
demolished. There was little appetite
in the community for discussion,” he
says. “People were looking at the
1997 handover [to China]. The locals
were not at all focused on what was
happening to their city.”
That changed somewhat in the
years following the handover, as
overseas Chinese began returning to
Hong Kong, health and social values
changed in the wake of the Sars
outbreak in 2003, and in 2006 civil
servants were given more leisure
time, Zimmerman says.
In 2007, the government closed
the historic Queen’s Pier to carry out
land reclamation, followed by the
renovation of the nearby Star Ferry
Pier. Conservationists led fierce
protests, police were forced to evict
some from the pier area, and their
court challenges were struck down.
The pier was razed in February 2008.
“The majority of the people were
in agreement that the heritage was
lost,” Zimmerman says. “The
government really noticed through
their polling and surveys that … 75
percent of the community supported
putting the Queen’s Pier back in its
old place, as part of new central
waterfront.”
North Jakarta is fortunate in many
respects because property
developers never needed to target
Kota Tua — the city simply continued
to grow southward down Jalan
Sudirman and beyond. A casual stroll
along the Dutch-era canal on Jalan
Bali Besar Timor — if you can bear the
foul-smelling water — reveals block
after block of historic buildings that
remain largely intact, albeit in various
stages of decay. It is hard to imagine
another stretch like it in Asia.
Indonesia has numerous
historical sites across the archipelago
that face problems — Semarang,
Yogyakarta, Bali — not just Kota Tua.
The country has signed the Unesco
World Heritage Convention, and the
central government is planning to
nominate a Balinese Hindu temple
for site status, according to Masanori
Nogaoka, a culture program
specialist at Unesco’s Jakarta office.
While the government does not
plan to nominate Kota Tua currently,
having world heritage status would
give the area legal protection and
lead to Unesco support for meeting
international preservation standards.
“It’s just a certificate, but once it’s
listed, they get a lot of attention, and
lots of tourists come,” Nogaoka says.
“The government would also have
the right to ask for foreign donations
to preserve and safeguard sites.”  on it is still waiting for a neighborhood revival.   JG Photo/Afriadi Hikmal
Joe Cochrane
The Living City
Lonely Chic: An Art Deco Outpost
In Old Batavia Still Stands Apart
S
eventeen years ago,
when Australian Graham
James bought an empty
colonial building in
Taman Fatahillah, there
were no private commercial
enterprises in the area. And
17 years on, that has hardly
changed, save for a pool hall next
door, a low-end disco and street
vendors. That fact aside, the
building that James spent two
years converting into a restaurant
and bar has become a landmark
synonymous with the area and a
must-see for visitors to Jakarta
— Café Batavia
Sitting in one of his
establishment’s large leather
lounge chairs and surrounded by
the vaguely art-deco
appointments he hand-picked
himself, James, who lives in Bali
and only visits Jakarta every few
weeks, looks relaxed as he
discusses his establishment.
“After all that time, I’m the only
one doing business here and I
must say after that amount of
time, it does get a little lonely,” he
says, the walls around him
adorned with photographs of
everything and everyone from
Elle Macpherson to World War II
Spitfire fighter planes and vintage
European art photography.
It’s a 200-year-old building set
in about 1937. One can easily
imagine Humphrey Bogart and
Ingrid Bergman having a dry
martini at the upstairs bar. James
says he wanted the feeling of a
grand European café before
World War II. “You won’t find any
plastic in here, except for the
Café Batavia has been a Jakarta landmark since it opened in 1993, but years
Saving Batavia
reservation plates. There is
nothing here that you wouldn’t
find in the 1930s.”
As an electronic coffee grinder
behind the bar whirs into action,
James smiles. “I guess you just
caught me lying.”
When he found the building, he
says, it was falling down.
“Everybody thought I was
stupid for buying this run-down
property with nothing happening
around it.” But for James, Café
Batavia always was and still is a
“passion project.”
“I did expect when I opened
this place in 1993 there would be
more happening now. If I had six
bars close by, I would double my
income,” he says, adding that he
doesn’t mind so much anymore.
“I don’t need the money. I just
need something to keep my mind
busy,” he says. James does that
by, among other things, being the
honorary consul to the Czech
Republic in Bali (don’t ask).
It was a long road for James to
wealth and the Café B. After
arriving in Bali in 1971 at the age of
25, he soon ran out of money. He
came to Jakarta looking for work
and found a job as an English
teacher.
“The school fired me on the
first day because I didn’t turn up,
so I ended up starting my own,” he
says. Now he owns language
schools across the country.
When James acquired the
building that houses Café Batavia
in 1990, it was the only freehold
property in Taman Fatahillah, so
the process of purchasing and
renovating it was relatively simple.
13
“I fell in love with it, I love this
sort of architecture,” James says,
cradling a cigarette in one hand
and a glass of Australian Riesling
in the other.
After purchasing the building,
he had to decide what to do with
his crumbling museum piece. “A
restaurant seemed the logical
option, the only thing that would
do well here. But even two weeks
out from opening we weren’t sure
what type of food we were going
to serve. I’m not a restaurateur; I
just own it. Standing out front and
shaking people’s hands? I couldn’t
think of anything worse.”
Fifteen years on, James says
the restaurant is everything he
thought it would become. “It is the
most famous restaurant in town,”
he says of his place, which once
made Newsweek magazine’s list
of the world’s best bars for two
years running. “If you are going to
bring a business partner to
Jakarta, you come here.”
He has thought about
expanding his operation by
buying some of the small
buildings next door to the café to
convert into apartments, but he
was deterred by red tape.
“There has been some talk
about creating a one-stop shop
for investors and developers for
the area, which would be really
positive,” James says. “As it
stands, it can be quite a headache.
When I started up there was no
trouble, but now it would likely be
a different story.”
So how can Café Batavia get
some commercial company?
“The whole area needs to be
walking room. Get rid of all traffic
and get people coming here at
night,” James says. “Going to bars,
having an experience. There also
needs to be some incentive for
people to come into these
buildings and renovate.”
“Look at that,” he says,
pointing out the window to a
run-down building next door.
“Who wants to fix that? That’s a
huge job. So they need something
to help people out. We need
something like the Rocks in
Sydney, but that takes time,”
James says, referring to the
Australian city’s historic district.
He dismisses questions about
whether such an undertaking
— the Rocks has a string of 5-star
hotels, shopping and cultural
attractions — is too ambitious for
Jakarta.
“Absolutely not. The buildings
are here, they are not being used.
The government could just lease
them out for free or very little for
50 years,” James says. “At the end
of that, you hand them back and
they would have beautifully
restored buildings.” 
Charles Anderson
14 Saving Batavia Jakarta  Globe Saturday/Sunday, April 4/5, 2009

A contradiction in colors and

contours: so much of Kota Tua
is run-down, but shadows of its
elegant past exist. Far left, from
top: the Museum of Fine Arts near
Fatahillah Square, housed in the old
1870s Dutch Supreme Court; the
furniture in the square. But so much
of the Old Town has ended up as
derelict rows of go-downs and
houses; even the familar ochre
color of many houses can’t
disguise years of neglect.
Right: details often provide the
most arresting image on a stroll
around the Old Town. 
JG Photos/Afriadi Hikmal,
Safir Makki, Yudhi Sukma Wijaya

Continued from page 11

regulations severely restrict leasing

them out for commercial use.
“The problem starts with the
state-owned buildings,” Lim says.
“It’s crazy. At least 80,000 square
meters left empty.”
Adds Governor Fauzi: “If I can
only have the MOU [memorandum
of understanding] with the State
Ministry for State-Owned
Enterprises, and if they can only
give me the rights and the free hand
to develop it and preserve it, I think
there will be a lot of change in Kota
Tua.”
Sofyan Djalil, the minister for
state-owned enterprises, says he
supports any efforts by the city to
revitalize Old Town, but that the
ball is in Fauzi’s court to submit a
detailed MOU on the use of the
buildings.
“From our side, we don’t have
any problem if the local government
wants to buy or lease them,
especially the abandoned ones,”
Djalil says, adding that state-owned
trading company PT Perusahaan
Perdagangan Indonesia owns most
of the historic buildings and land in
the area.
Aji Damais, a retired city cultural
official who says he has been
consulted on 10 separate master
plans for Kota Tua, suggests some
radical thinking. In the crumbling
old town of Havana, Cuba, he says,
the city rented out historic buildings
for $1 a year, which enabled local
residents to keep living and working
there, but also brought in hordes of
new investors.
“That’s the way to do it; not
having a bureaucratic hassle,” he
says. “Imagine having state-owned
enterprises trying to open hotels.”
Experts say a public-private
partnership is the only feasible way
forward for the governor’s master
plan, with the city providing
incentives, easy regulations and new
infrastructure, and investors doing
the rest.

Public-private partnership
So far, the most successful example
in Jakarta of a public-private
partnership in conservation — in
fact the only example — occurred
with the National Archives Building,
Saturday/Sunday, April 4/5, 2009 Jakarta  Globe
or Gedung Arsip, near Glodok. The
building, which dates back to 1760,
was the country estate of the Dutch
governor-general of Batavia. By the
mid-1990s, it was in disrepair and
was rumored to be destined for the
wrecking ball in favor of a shopping
mall. The Dutch business
community raised $3 million to
restore it. Today it’s a museum and
events center managed by a private
foundation that raises money for
operations, upkeep and renovations.
It has hosted around 390 weddings,
and, last month, a dinner for US
Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.
“We have just started our 11th
year and we have not received a
single rupiah [from the
government],” says Tamalia
Alisjahbana, the foundation’s
executive director. “We are not tied
up by bureaucratic regulations.”
For now, anyway.
Inexplicably, the central
government has tried to change
that, and risks setting a disturbing
precedent. The National Archives
had tried to prevent their lease from
being renewed, until President
Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono
intervened. In 2005, the Ministry of
Finance demanded that all the
foundation’s proceeds be forwarded
to the Treasury, and that it submit a
yearly budget request through the
National Archives.
The foundation is fighting the
order, arguing it would “make us
bureaucrats,” Alisjahbana says.
Building owners, conservationists
and residents of Old Town are
hoping for friendlier policies from
the central and city governments for
leasing and restoring historic
buildings owned by the state.
“They must get together and
create a special regulation so they
can open up these buildings,”
Alisjahbana says.
Local historic building owners,
noting that restoration costs are
extremely high, say the ball is in the
government’s court. “Everyone is
waiting for a move by the
government to say it’s safe to put
your money in Kota,” Damais says.
The next move
Whether it’s optimism or wishful
thinking, such a move could happen
later this year. Fauzi must first
publicly endorse the project, which
would be followed by some small
infrastructure projects to get the
ball rolling, such as blocking the
streets leading into Taman
Fatahillah from the Bank Mandiri
Museum building and diverting the
traffic to the west.
“That is the biggest problem we
need to solve. We should exclude
Kota Tua from through traffic,
which means rerouting all the
traffic,” the governor says. “And we
can only do it, because this is a big
undertaking that needs a lot of
money, a lot of investment. I believe
that we can only do that if we can
work together with the private
sector.”
A second project could be
dredging the canals in Kota Tua and
ensuring a clean flow of water,
which the West Jakarta mayor’s
office estimated would cost Rp 60
billion.
But urban planners and activists
are warning against trying to put a
price tag on the entire revitalization,
which could take up to 20 years and
cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“It’s a process. It’s pointless to put
a price on it,” Lim says. “I believe in
the snowball effect.”
It’s an odd metaphor in an
equatorial city that rarely sees even
a cool breeze. But fair enough, all it
takes now is for someone to toss the
snowball before it melts. ■
The Living City
Chinatown: Reviving the Faded
Economic Pulse of the Old Days
I
t was a classic example of
what Jakarta’s Chinatown is
all about. Although that can
be, both literally and
figuratively, good, bad and
ugly at the same time.
Thousands of people
descended onto a blocked-off
street in Glodok on Feb. 9 for Cap
Go Meh, the annual celebration to
mark the end of the Chinese
Lunar New Year. The streets were
awash with red lanterns and
banners, dance troupes from as
far afield as West Java, martial
arts displays and dragon dancing.
But the colorful costumes,
banging drums and burning
incense weren’t the only sights,
sounds and smells on display.
Straight down the middle of Jalan
Pancoran, Ground Zero for the
festival, runs a canal that was
blocked by mounds of rotting
garbage emitting a noxious smell
of rancid water.
Just up the street, the blare of
car horns and rising clouds of
auto exhaust announced the
midday gridlock outside the
Glodok electronics center, a daily
phenomenon that seems to be
largely the result of police and
local parking attendants allowing
street vendors to peddle their
Chinatown retains the market’s bustle and fragrance of incense wafting
from temples, but is a shadow of its former self.  JG Photos/Afriadi Hikmal
Saving Batavia
wares on the sidewalks and in the
streets to customers in cars,
buses and bajaj stalled in the
middle of the main thoroughfare.
Then there’s the opportunistic
preman, or street thugs, lurking
about — one shady-looking
teenager wearing a jacket reading
“Punk Not Dead” stood watch
near the festival area. Run-down
hotels, sex spas offering their
services, potholed streets and
broken sidewalks complete a
picture of vibrant chaos.
But warts and all, Chinatown is
the sum of its parts, and according
to government officials, urban
planners and conservation
experts, Chinatown is the linchpin
to the successful revitalization of
the Old Town area.
“It’s the gateway to Kota Tua,”
says Wisnu Kusmin of the
Pancoran Chinatown Traders
Association, “and there’s still a lot
of the ‘old’ people around there
with their shops.”
Purists rightly say the “real”
Chinatown isn’t the modern
electronics and cellphone
centers, the new shopping malls
on the chaotic Hayam Wuruk and
Gajah Mada thoroughfares, or the
wide-open nightlife of Mangga
Besar. It is the labyrinth of narrow
15
side alleys that bustle with
traditional medicine stores, gold
shops, food stalls and art shops.
Then there are the traders, with
their warehouses appointed with
Chinese-style architectural details,
moving goods in and out of the
city on a daily basis. These
commercial hives have been the
backbone of economic activity in
Glodok for more than a century.
Urban planners say they remain
crucial to the area’s viability, and
they are calling on the government
to ensure it remains that way.
“The financial core of the
[entire] city used to be in
Chinatown, before it moved south
to Sudirman,” says Mohammad
Danisworo, the Center for Urban
Design Studies chairman and an
adviser to five Jakarta governors.
“Chinatown is the most
economically active area of Old
Town,” he says. “We have to make
it stronger … by providing
activities that sustain the district.
For me, conservation is second.
The most important thing is … how
to give life to the area.”
The city’s latest master plan to
rehabilitate Kota Tua calls for an
infrastructure development
scheme in Chinatown that would
clean up the fetid canals, build
parking areas outside a traffic-free
walking area, put retail shops
inside restored historic buildings
and construct a new park.
Conservationists are insisting that
the area’s architectural character
be maintained as much as
possible, with buildings being
restored in favor of new
structures. Also, the local vendors
and artisans who are part of
Chinatown’s informal economy
must be allowed to continue
working, though under more
regulation.
There are high hopes that an
economic resurgence in
Chinatown would also benefit the
area’s famous temples, Jin De
Yuan and Tao Se Baio, which
should see more visitors and
serve as an anchor for the area’s
rich cultural heritage.
It has now been more than 10
years since the May 1998
anti-Chinese riots burned down
parts of Glodok and sent
thousands of Chinese fleeing for
safety to Singapore and
elsewhere. Fortunately, the riots
ended quickly and one of the
byproducts of the country’s new
democracy installed since those
dark days has been a renewed
feeling of security and pride in the
Chinese-Indonesian community.
Perhaps, when Kota Tua is rebuilt
with Chinatown as its core
economic engine, the entire
nation will be proud of a
revitalized old town.  
Joe Cochrane