12

Decolonising a colonial fort? The case of Fort Rotterdam, Makassar

Ajeng Ayu Arainikasih

Introduction

Fort Rotterdam in Makassar, South Sulawesi, was first named Fort Ujung Pandang. It was built in 1545 by the Sultan of Gowa, I Manriwagau Daeng Bonto Karaeng Lakiung, who was widely known as Tunipalangga Ulaweng. The rectangular fort was Portuguese in style. Its outer wall was a mixture of stone and clay, and inside the fort were Makassar-style wooden houses.¹

In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the Kingdom of Gowa, affiliated with the Makassarese people—and located in present-day South Sulawesi—was a strong maritime power. Its capital, Makassar, was a free multicultural port city. However, this kingdom competed with another strong maritime power in the area, the Kingdom of Bone, of the Bugis people.² Therefore, to protect his kingdom, Tunipalangga Ulaweng decided to continue his father’s initiative to build several European-style forts throughout Gowa.³ In 1607, the Dutch East India Company (Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie, VOC), like many other foreign traders, obtained permission to establish a trading office in Makassar. The VOC understood that the location of the Kingdom of Gowa, particularly its capital, Makassar, was very strategic (for the spice trade). The intention of the VOC was to create a monopoly over this trade.⁴

From the sixteenth to the twentieth centuries, conflict and wars over the spice trade occurred between the VOC and the Kingdom of Gowa, including the Makassar War, which broke out in 1666–67. The VOC secured help from Arung Palakka, a Bone nobleman, as well as from other local kingdoms in Sulawesi and the Moluccas, such as Buton, Ternate and Ambon.⁵

In 1667, to end the war, Sultan Hasanuddin of Gowa (1631–70) signed the Treaty of Bongaya. The terms of the treaty were that all Gowa’s forts would be destroyed by the VOC except Fort Ujung Pandang, which would be seized and used by the Dutch for their own purposes. In 1673 the fort was redesigned into a modern European fortification: a turtle-shaped pentagonal fort with five bastions. The fort was renamed Fort Rotterdam to commemorate the birthplace of Cornelis Janszoon Speelman (1628–84), the Dutch commander (and the VOC Governor-General from 1680 to 1684) who oversaw the conquest of Gowa.⁶

According to Forts in Indonesia (2012) published by the Indonesian Ministry of Education and Culture, in 2010 Indonesia had approximately 400 ‘colonial forts’, ‘Nusantara forts’ and World War II defence structures. The authors categorise colonial forts as those built by former European colonisers to defend their trading posts and warehouses and for military purposes. Meanwhile, forts built by communities or local rulers of the Indonesian archipelago, including those built by Europeans by request of the locals, are defined as Nusantara forts.⁷

After Indonesia’s declaration of independence (in 1945), colonial forts were commonly regarded as undesirable heritage—representations of Indonesia’s dark past. Therefore, some believed that conserving and preserving colonial forts were unnecessary. Others argued that the forts symbolised Indonesian resistance against colonial power and their preservation was therefore important.⁸

Today, some forts, such as Fort Legok Jawa in West Java, are empty and in ruins. Some are still used for military purposes by the Indonesian Government—for example, Fort Kuto Besak in Palembang and Fort Victoria in Ambon. Others have been repurposed as government office buildings and/or museums, such as Fort Marlborough in Bengkulu, Fort Vredeburg in Yogyakarta and Fort Rotterdam in Makassar. These forts have become popular tourist destinations.

The book Forts in Indonesia declares Fort Rotterdam the most successful example of the repurposing of a colonial fort in Indonesia.⁹ Today the fort is a popular tourist destination for Makassar city locals, as well as other domestic and foreign tourists. Fort Rotterdam also plays an important role in the social and cultural life of the people of Makassar. It has become a public place for people to socialise and spend their spare time, attending cultural and/or community events or using the fort as background for photos and videos.¹⁰ The fort also houses the provincial museum of South Sulawesi, La Galigo Museum.¹¹

This chapter discusses the transformations of Fort Rotterdam across different political eras, from the colonial to the present. This chapter asks to what extent this fort was decolonised, and analyses to what extent, over time, La Galigo Museum’s permanent exhibitions have shown evidence of decolonisation.

As discussed in Chapter 1 of this book, decolonisation is not merely the removal of a colonial power when a local ruler reclaims power and creates a new nation. Rather, decolonisation is an ongoing process of dismantling colonial legacies and colonial ways of thinking that have influenced almost all aspects of society.¹² There has been recent attention to the work of decolonising museums in the Netherlands (see Isabella’s Chapter 13 in this volume). According to Mirjam Shatanawi, what this means for the Netherlands—as a former colonising power—is repatriating colonial collections, rewriting colonial vocabularies, sharing authority with the source communities and acknowledging the cultural diversity of Dutch society in museums.¹³

But there is also critical museum and heritage work to do in Indonesia. I argue that decolonising museums in Indonesia—a formerly colonised nation—means presenting narratives from local perspectives, as well as challenging colonial forms of knowledge-making that remain embedded in Indonesian museums.

The information in this chapter forms part of my PhD dissertation and is based on archival research, interviews and observations of Fort Rotterdam and La Galigo Museum’s permanent exhibitions. The main written sources are La Galigo Museum’s guidebooks published in different years, unpublished reports and newspaper articles. The interviews for this research were conducted with the current and former curators of the museum, as well as with employees of the Office for Cultural Preservation in Region XIX (South and Southeast Sulawesi provinces).

Decolonising Fort Rotterdam?

After being seized and redesigned by the Dutch in the seventeenth century, Fort Rotterdam became a trading post that the VOC sought to defend as well as a government and military headquarters for the company. It became the centre of the company’s control over Sulawesi and the eastern part of modern-day Indonesia. The interior of the fort complex included the houses of the VOC governor and high-ranking officials, military barracks, a church, offices, ammunition storage buildings, a prison, a military hospital and warehouses.¹⁴ After more than two centuries, by 1908, the Dutch no longer used Fort Rotterdam as a fortification¹⁵ or as the centre for governmental affairs as the government offices were moved outside the fort complex.¹⁶

There were several reasons for the loosening of Dutch control over the fort. The VOC declared bankruptcy in 1799. In 1816, after the French and British interregnum (1806–16), the Indonesian archipelago became a colony of the Kingdom of the Netherlands and was known as the Dutch East Indies. Over time, the territory under Dutch control expanded.

By 1905, all of South Sulawesi had been annexed by the Dutch after a military expedition.¹⁷ It is possible, therefore, that, by 1908, the role of colonial forts (particularly in South Sulawesi) was not as important as before because there were no more territories to conquer or protect.

By the 1930s, as reported by the Bataviaasch Nieuwsblad (‘Batavia Newspaper’) and the Nieuwe Apeldoornsche Courant, Fort Rotterdam was decaying and its outer walls had turned black. In 1937 the colonial government handed Fort Rotterdam over to the (presumably Makassar-based) Fort Rotterdam Foundation (Fort Rotterdam Stichting) and it was restored between 1937 and 1939.¹⁸ The fort was officially declared a heritage site on 23 May 1940 (No. 1010 Monumenten Ordonnantie [Monuments Ordinance] Stbld. 1931 No. 238)¹⁹ and deemed a historical landmark for Makassar.²⁰

Various government offices were housed within the fort after its restoration and these organisations worked to prevent further deterioration of the structures. In a 1938 report in Het Vaderland (‘The Fatherland’), it was stated that the Matthes Stichting (Matthes Foundation) had completely restored a building in the fort’s northeast bastion for its own use.²¹ According to Dr F.D.K. Bosch (1887–1968), the head of the colonial-era Archaeological Service (1916–36), the Matthes Foundation had a library and collections of ethnographic objects and manuscripts.²²

The foundation was named after Benjamin Frederik Matthes (1818–1908), a Dutch linguist and missionary who arrived in Makassar in 1848 and worked in South Sulawesi for 23 years.²³ Matthes studied Makassar and Bugis literature, translated the Bible into Makassar and Bugis languages, published a Makassar–Bugis–Dutch dictionary and grammar books, wrote down local poetry and legends and collected manuscripts.²⁴ Matthes collaborated with Retna Kencana Colliq Pujie Arung Pancana Toa Matinroe ri Tucae (1812–76), the exiled Queen of Tanete Kingdom, to write and compile the manuscript Sureq I La Galigo.²⁵ The name of the manuscript was later adopted—in post-independent Indonesia—as the name of the provincial museum of South Sulawesi, previously called the Celebes Museum.

Celebes was the colonial-era name for the entire island of what is today known as Sulawesi. The colonial Celebes Museum, established in 1938, was an ethnographic museum housed within the Fort Rotterdam complex in the former house of VOC Governor-General Speelman.²⁶

During the late colonial era, Fort Rotterdam became an important heritage site for the Dutch. By restoring and declaring the fort a historical site, as well as reusing it for government offices and the museum, the fort’s role was transformed from a headquarters for VOC trade and military purposes into a site of significance (particularly for the Dutch in colonial Indonesia). It was preserved by the Dutch to demonstrate colonial power over Sulawesi (and the eastern part of the Indonesian archipelago).

I argue that it was only in the 1930s that the Dutch started to realise the importance of preserving their 300-year history in and domination of the colony. Various art historians, archaeologists and historians, such as Pauline Lunsingh Scheurleer, Marieke Bloembergen, Martijn Eickhoff and Sri Margana, have argued that European interest in, research into and preservation of (Javanese) antiquities and cultural heritage began in the early nineteenth century.²⁷ As described by Margana, the need to more deeply understand the history and cultures of the colony’s peoples was driven by the Dutch ambition to build an empire after the British interregnum.²⁸ It was only in the late colonial era, however, that attention to preserving colonial heritage increased. There are several examples of this.

In Surabaya, a locally born man of German descent, G.H. von Faber (1899–1955), established the Provincial en Stedelijk Historisch Museum (Provincial and Municipal Historical Museum) in 1933. The museum’s exhibitions related the role of the Europeans in developing the modern city of Surabaya and displayed a Chinese altar and local ethnographic objects, particularly from East Java and Madura.²⁹

In Koetaradja (present-day Banda Aceh), the Dutch Korps Marechaussee (‘Military Police’) established the Atjehsch Legermuseum (Aceh Army Museum) in 1937, which illustrated the ‘successful’ Dutch colonisation of Aceh.³⁰ Aceh was one of the last territories to be violently conquered by the Dutch, in the Aceh War (1873–1913). The museum’s collections included mementos of that war: photographs, maps, memoirs, weapons, medals, uniforms, flags and parts of war vehicles. The Atjehsch Legermuseum was also financially supported by major Dutch companies.³¹

Meanwhile in Batavia (present-day Jakarta), the Oud Batavia Museum was established in 1939 by the Museum of the Royal Batavian Society of Arts and Science—also funded by major Dutch companies—to celebrate the legacy and 350th birthday of Jan Pieterszoon Coen (1587–1629). Coen was admired as the founder of Batavia and later became the VOC Governor-General, between 1618–23 and 1627–29. The facade of the Oud Batavia Museum was purposedly designed to resemble a typical Dutch house. The museum also housed the tombs of VOC governors-general, including Coen.³² These three examples demonstrate that the move to preserve the fort in Makassar was part of a broader shift towards saving Dutch colonial heritage in the Indonesian archipelago.

During the Japanese occupation and the Indonesian revolution, Fort Rotterdam was used for more practical purposes. During the Japanese occupation (1942–45), it was home to the office of the Japanese Navy Administration in Eastern Indonesia and a centre for agricultural and language studies.³³ During the Indonesian revolution (1945–49), the fort became a military base for the Royal Netherlands East Indies Army (Koninklijk Nederlandsch-Indisch Leger, or KNIL). At that time, the fort served as the home of 1,200 Ambonese KNIL soldiers. By 1950, the fort was used as a residence for members of the Indonesian Army and their families. Consequently, the condition of the fort once again deteriorated. In 1953 the Archaeological Office claimed the fort should be used only for cultural purposes, however, it was only in 1970 that members of the Indonesian Army and their families living inside the fort were relocated by the Government of South Sulawesi to new homes outside the fort.³⁴

By 1970, Indonesians were being ruled by an authoritarian regime, known as the New Order (1966–98), under president Suharto (1921–2008), who remained in power for 32 years. During the New Order, the regime paid new attention to culture and heritage. Its policy towards archaeology and museums was to safeguard cultural heritage and build a national identity based on the ideological slogan of ‘unity in diversity’. One means of achieving this was to establish museums in every Indonesian province, each of which would present similar storylines about the region’s contribution to the resistance to colonialism. The regime also worked closely with the UN Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) in developing and restoring cultural heritage.³⁵

After the army vacated, between 1970 and 1976, Fort Rotterdam was restored by the Indonesian Government and the buildings inside—like in the colonial era—were used as government offices for the cultural sector, including for the regional archives, the Cultural Preservation Office of South Sulawesi Region and La Galigo Museum.³⁶

Furthermore, in the 1970s, the original name, Fort Ujung Pandang, was reinstated.³⁷ In fact, in 1971 the city of Makassar was also renamed, as Ujung Pandang—chosen because it originated from the name of a kampong (‘village’) near the fort (as well as being the original name of the fort). ‘Ujung Pandang’ was considered more neutral than Makassar because it was not related to one specific ethnicity.³⁸ The Makassarese are just one ethnic group among the population of South Sulawesi Province, which includes the Buginese, Torajans and Mandarese.³⁹

Figure 12.1 Fort Rotterdam, Makassar

Source: Ajeng Ayu Arainikasih.

The name Ujung Pandang was changed back to Makassar in 1999 after the demise of the New Order government and the shift towards decentralisation.⁴⁰ As for the fort, Rotterdam is today widely used as both the official and the popular names for the fort.

The status of Fort Rotterdam as a heritage site continued in post-independent and post–New Order Indonesia, recognised for its municipal heritage related to the city of Makassar as well as Indonesian national heritage. Indeed, as argued by Indonesian archaeologist Yadi Mulyadi, one reason Fort Rotterdam became important for Indonesians is because it was a Nusantara fort before being transformed into a colonial fort.⁴¹ I will now consider more carefully the museum within the fort and how the histories of the fort and the region have been presented to audiences over time. In so doing, I will consider the critical question of the extent to which the fort has been decolonised.

The Celebes Museum

The Celebes Museum, established in 1938 inside the Fort Rotterdam complex, was a colonial-era ethnographic museum. In the early twentieth century, museums (particularly ethnographic museums) mushroomed throughout the Indonesian archipelago. Their establishment was related to the Dutch imperial mission of the previous century. At that time, as argued by Indonesian historian Sri Margana, the Dutch realised that to build an empire within their colonies, it was important to understand the languages, customs, laws and cultures of the local population. They therefore introduced policies encouraging the study of local cultures, which increased the interest of both Europeans and local elites in studying and preserving cultural heritage.⁴²

Consequently, by the early twentieth century, about 25 museums had been established in colonial Indonesia, by both European and local Indonesian actors through learned societies, the colonial government, missionaries and private initiatives. The museums were mostly ethnographic, although there were also institutions dedicated to archaeology, antiquity, city history and natural history.⁴³

The main purposes of these ethnographic museums (in the colony) were to collect, preserve and study cultural objects of an area and its peoples—as completely as possible—before the objects were consumed by modernisation or sold abroad.⁴⁴ Indeed, at that time, ethnographic objects (and antiquities) were extensively transported overseas.⁴⁵

The colonial-era ethnographic museum, both in Europe and in the colony, was a tool to promote and legitimise colonialism.⁴⁶ Museums were also a tool of empire. They attempted to represent a visual encyclopedia of knowledge through exploration, collecting and classification of the natural and cultural worlds. Museums displayed European possession of the lands and cultures of ‘Others’ in the colonies, and also tried to show the great achievements and progress made in the colonies to justify European domination.⁴⁷ The arrangement of collections clearly showed that the cultures of Others were considered primitive, rare or exotic—and inferior to that of the superior Europeans.⁴⁸ Colonial-era ethnographic museums were, indeed, works of political representation that produced specific knowledge.⁴⁹

The Celebes Museum is one such example. Its collection included ceramics, coins and ethnographic objects from South Sulawesi: kitchen utensils, traditional clothes, children’s games, musical instruments, weapons, wooden boats, agricultural tools and jewellery.⁵⁰ Through this museum, the Dutch colonisers not only occupied the land but also attempted to show that they had mastered the local culture. At that time, the Dutch presented themselves as preserving the culture of Others from extinction. This belief was based on the racist social Darwinist idea that so-called primitive cultures would die out.

The fate of the Celebes Museum during the Japanese occupation (1942–45) and World War II is unclear. However, as described above, the book Forts in Indonesia claims Fort Rotterdam was used as offices for the Japanese Navy Administration as well as a centre for agricultural and language studies.⁵¹ It is possible that the centre for agricultural and language studies was actually a continuation of the work of the colonial era’s Matthes Foundation and Celebes Museum. Based on my research on museums during the Japanese occupation, it is known that museums in Java remained opened during the occupation and continued to be used as a tool of empire—this time, by the Japanese—as well as serving Japanese war propaganda.⁵² According to Australian historian Adrian Vickers, during the Japanese occupation, the Bali Museum in Denpasar also remained opened and continued its activities.⁵³

News reports about the Celebes Museum reappeared in 1948. At that time, De Heerenveensche Koerier (‘Heerenveen Courier’) and Nieuwsblad van Friesland (‘Newspaper of Friesland’) reported that the Mayor of Makassar Abdul Hamid Daeng Magassing (in office 1946–49) visited the Princessehof Museum in Leeuwarden, the Netherlands. During the visit, Magassing saw the fragment of a wood carving from a destroyed Makassar Chinese temple. Magassing and the Dutch museum’s curator made a promise to exchange collections between their two museums.⁵⁴ These newspaper reports show that the Celebes Museum still existed in 1948 and was actively seeking collaborations with at least one museum in the Netherlands. It is unknown whether any exchanges of objects took place. The museum’s fate in the 1950s also remains unknown due to a dearth of sources.

La Galigo Museum

What is known is that in 1966 Abdul Rahim Daeng Mone, an Indonesian linguist and the head of cultural inspection for South and Southeast Sulawesi, initiated the re-establishment of the museum in the fort. La Galigo Museum was officially inaugurated on 26 February 1974 and, in 1979, it became the provincial museum of South Sulawesi.⁵⁵ Its early collections were similar to those of the Celebes Museum and included ethnographic objects that were part of a bequest from the Matthes Foundation and the Eastern Indonesia Cultural Foundation (Yayasan Pusat Kebudayaan Indonesia Timur).⁵⁶

As mentioned above, the name La Galigo refers to South Sulawesi’s legendary ancestral figure and the ancient manuscript Surek I La Galigo, written in the thirteenth to fifteenth centuries. It is a name widely known in South Sulawesi. I La Galigo was believed to be the ancestor of the kings of all South Sulawesi’s kingdoms.⁵⁷ The name is an inclusive one and an effort to represent all South Sulawesi’s ethnicities and local kingdoms in a postcolonial context.

However, it seems that the decision to change the name of the museum (and the fort in the 1970s) was the only attempt at decolonisation. Because there have only been very slight changes to the museum’s permanent exhibition and narratives, I argue that La Galigo Museum is a continuation of the colonial museum concept, particularly the colonial-era ethnographic museum.

Indeed, as argued by Katharine McGregor, the formal end of colonial rule in Indonesia did not include an end to colonial ways of thinking, as seen through the displays of museums. For instance, McGregor (2004) argued that the National Museum of Indonesia continuously used colonial concepts and values previously embedded in its permanent exhibition but creatively adapted these to suit the needs of postcolonial Indonesia, particularly as a tool for nation-building and to stimulate national pride.⁵⁸ As discussed in the Introduction, the Indonesian postcolonial local governments (and museums) failed to fully overthrow ‘coloniality’ and continued to replicate patterns used by the colonisers—this time, for the sake of national sovereignty.

This was very clear during president Suharto’s New Order, when the colonial-era ethnographic museums within the capital of a province were nationalised into provincial museums (including the Celebes Museum). New provincial museums were also established and all were managed under the Directorate of Museums in the Ministry of Culture.⁵⁹

Under Mohammad Amir Sutaarga (1928–2013) as the Director of Museums (1966–84), these provincial museums were standardised. Sutaarga trained under Dutch museum curator Dr A.N.J.Th. à Th. van Der Hoop (1893–1969) and was strongly influenced by the colonial-era Archaeological Service’s F.D.K. Bosch. Following Bosch, Sutaarga believed Indonesia was in the middle of modernisation and acculturation processes that included the penetration of Western culture. Therefore, the existence of museums was necessary to safeguard Indonesian traditional cultures, which were about to become extinct; museums were important to minimise—as both Bosch and Sutaarga phrased it—‘cultural impoverishment’.⁶⁰

This view is clearly seen in a paper presented by the Department of Museums, History and Culture of the Regional Office of the Ministry of Education and Culture of South Sulawesi Province (Bidang Permuseuman Sejarah dan Kebudayaan Kantor Wilayah Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan Provinsi Sulawesi Selatan) to a seminar on architecture and museum exhibitions held in Bogor in 1975. The paper stated that Makassar was seen as an exit gate for cultural heritage leaving South Sulawesi, as well as an entry point for foreign culture. Therefore, local culture was believed to be in danger of extinction, potentially causing cultural impoverishment. Thus, La Galigo Museum was established to inform the public about the nature and historical events of South Sulawesi, as well as to safeguard the cultures of the Makassarese, Buginese, Torajan and Mandarese peoples as the ethnic groups of the province.⁶¹

These moves were also strongly influenced by the suggestions of John Irwin, a UNESCO delegate who came to Indonesia in the late 1950s to give recommendations on how to develop Indonesian museums. Sutaarga used the concept of what he called the ethnographic museum as the core model for the provincial museums.⁶² The idea was reflected within the Pedoman Pembakuan Museum Umum Tingkat Propinsi (Guidebook to Standardise Provincial Museums) published by the Directorate of Museums in 1979–80.

The book stated that provincial museums should collect and display natural history specimens, paleontological and prehistoric objects, archaeological artefacts, historical objects, manuscripts, numismatic and heraldic collections, ceramics, art and craft objects and ethnographic objects.⁶³ The collections should represent the province’s natural history, science, technological and historical development and cultural heritage, as well as representing Indonesia in general.⁶⁴ Their purpose was to promote national integration.⁶⁵

Therefore, since the 1980s, all provincial museums have followed a similar ‘template’ for their permanent exhibitions. They commonly begin with a description of the natural resources of the province, continue to the prehistoric era, the Hindu/Buddhist kingdoms, the Islamic kingdoms and the colonial era—here, documenting local resistance to colonial power. The exhibitions usually conclude with ethnographic displays of the material culture of each province’s ethnic groups.⁶⁶

The New Order era’s La Galigo Museum followed exactly this kind of storyline. Its permanent exhibition is housed within two buildings inside the Fort Rotterdam complex, Buildings D and M. Building D is the three-storey former governor-general’s quarters and former home of Cornelis J. Speelman. This building was also the location of the 1938 Celebes Museum. The three-storey Building M was once used as a spice warehouse (first floor), VOC army barracks (second floor) and snipers’ post (third floor).⁶⁷

From an examination of the museum’s guidebooks over time, it can be concluded that the permanent exhibitions in La Galigo Museum experienced only minor changes from the 1970s and 1980s to 2010. After the New Order ended in 1998, the government passed a series of decentralisation policies. In 2002 provincial governments began to take over management of the provincial museums that had been managed by the central government. As argued by US anthropologist Christina Kreps, the authoritarian, top-down, centralised approach of the New Order towards provincial museums disempowered museum employees. Managers were unprepared to handle the museums without guidance from the central government. Furthermore, the New Order’s policies meant that community members were unfamiliar with the management of the museums.⁶⁸ As a result of their transfer to provincial control in 2002, museums suffered decay and under-management.

In 2010 president Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono planned a revitalisation program for Indonesia’s museums to cover their physical rejuvenation, management, programs, networking, policy development and branding.⁶⁹ La Galigo Museum was a target of the revitalisation project, although its storyline has not substantially changed.

Before and after the 2010 revitalisation, the museum’s permanent exhibition within Building D showed the history of the conflicts between South Sulawesi kingdoms and the VOC. Although the current display regarding the conflict between Gowa–Bone and the VOC is simplified compared with the previous one, the museum seems to have tried to present a different historical perspective.

The extended object label for a painting depicting Bone nobleman Arung Palakka states: ‘During his reign, Arung Palakka succeeded in liberating the Kingdom of Bone from the dominance of the Sultanate of Gowa and made the Buginese one of the largest maritime forces in the Indonesian archipelago at that time.’⁷⁰ This statement is different to the narrative typically used in Indonesian history books. Arung Palakka is usually considered a traitor, who worked with the VOC; and Sultan Hasanuddin of Gowa is usually presented as a hero (although some people of Bugis Bone consider Arung Palakka the real hero).⁷¹ This version represents the museum’s attempt to offer different perspectives on history.

The trend of telling other versions of history flourished in the immediate post–New Order period. As argued by Dutch historian Henk Schulte Nordholt, during the New Order, regional histories and perspectives were marginalised in nationalist accounts. If regional histories were presented, they had to fit into the larger narrative of Indonesian history.⁷² Schulte Nordholt’s theory is strengthened by the omission from museum narratives of the fact that Ambonese KNIL soldiers lived within Fort Rotterdam during the Revolusi period. The story of the Ambonese soldiers did not fit into the national history narrative, so it was given no space within the museum’s exhibit.

Schulte Nordholt further argued that, during the New Order, there was very little attention given to ordinary people as historical actors. National heroes were predominantly men, born on Java and belonged to the elite.⁷³ However, interestingly, the story of Bendara Pangeran Harya Dipanegara, widely known as Pangeran Diponegoro (1785–1855), a Javanese prince and Indonesian national hero who spent his time as a Dutch political prisoner inside Fort Rotterdam (1834–55), was not mentioned at all within La Galigo Museum’s permanent exhibition.

The story of Prince Diponegoro does appear, however, in Building N of the fort complex. Building N is managed by the Office for Cultural Preservation of Region XIX and not by La Galigo Museum.⁷⁴ Indeed, many buildings inside the fort complex are managed by different governmental institutions.

The absence of Prince Diponegoro from La Galigo’s permanent exhibition suggests continuity with both a colonial point of view and a New Order view. As a former New Order provincial museum, La Galigo only presents the culture and history of South Sulawesi and its people. Because local museums are supposed to present the history of local colonial resistance, the stories of Sultan Hasanuddin of Gowa and Arung Palakka of Bone were the ones profiled. Although Diponegoro was a Javanese royal and national hero, his story does not fit into the museum’s narrative.

After the 2010 revitalisation, illustrations of scenes from Sureq I La Galigo were put on display. The story of Retna Kencana Colliq Pujie Arung Pancana Toa Matinroe ri Tucae, the Queen of Tanete Kingdom, is mentioned in passing in a nearby moveable panel label. As noted, the queen collaborated with Matthes to compile the manuscript for Sureq I La Galigo and her story represents a viable option in attempts to decolonise the history of South Sulawesi.

Before and after the 2010 revitalisation, Building M displayed ethnographic objects. The permanent exhibition on the first and second floors currently illustrates the history and culture of South Sulawesi’s ethnic groups thematically. The museum presents the civilisations of South Sulawesi in chronological order, from the prehistoric to the Hindu/Buddhist era, Islamic kingdoms and the colonial era. In some places the museum employs a thematic approach, concentrating on the agrarian and maritime cultures of the local peoples. Traditional farming tools, miniature traditional houses, wedding ceremonies and funeral customs are illustrated under this theme, as well as miniatures of boats and fishing equipment. The museum is focused on the Makassarese, Buginese and Torajans.

Presenting only the material culture of the local ethnic groups and ignoring other Indonesians who lived within the province are a colonial legacy. This idea can be traced back to the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when physical anthropology reached its peak. Physical anthropology is concerned with the study of evolution and human diversity. At that time, physical anthropologists preferred to conduct research on hinterland rather than coastal areas as they were not interested in mixed-race peoples.⁷⁵ After independence, provincial museums continued to focus on preserving the cultures of the peoples believed to be indigenous to each province.

Figure 12.2 La Galigo Museum’s permanent exhibition in Building M, 2019

Source: Ajeng Ayu Arainikasih.

In the concluding sections of Building M’s permanent exhibition, the museum illustrates the development of colonial cities in South Sulawesi such as Makassar, Watampone, Pare-Pare and Palopo. Information about the cities’ development is displayed in wall-mounted labels inside glass vitrines, together with some objects. Although the museum has tried to present Makassar as a multicultural city, there is a sentence about Chinese Indonesians that, once again, illustrates a colonial legacy. The label explains that Makassar was a multicultural city where Malays, Javanese, Ambonese, Chinese, Arabs and Europeans resided. However, when explaining Makassar’s Chinatown, La Galigo Museum’s curator has written (in Bahasa Indonesia) that ‘the gate in Makassar’s China Town symbolises the friendship between the pribumi [native Indonesians] and the Chinese as non-pribumi’.⁷⁶

In colonial Indonesia, the Dutch divided the population into a social hierarchy of three classes: the Europeans and the Indo-Eurasians (mixed descent), the Foreign Orientals (the Chinese and the Arabs) and the Inlanders or Pribumi (native Indonesians).⁷⁷ The Chinese themselves were divided into two groups: the Totok and the Peranakan. The Totok were the newly arrived Chinese, while the Peranakan were Chinese who were born in the Indonesian archipelago to families who had lived there for generations. Under the leadership of president Sukarno (1945–65), the Citizenship Law of 1958 forced Chinese Indonesians to choose between Chinese and Indonesian citizenship. As argued by Thung Ju Lan, an Indonesian Sinologist, the Peranakan were rendered foreigners. The situation worsened after the 1965 incident.⁷⁸ Moreover, in 1967, the New Order prohibited Chinese rituals and cultural customs. Consequently, Indonesian Chinese continued to be considered as ‘outsiders’, ‘foreigners’ or ‘non-Pribumi’ until president Abdurrahman Wahid reformed the law in 2006.⁷⁹

Although the museum’s statement emphasises friendship, it highlights the social segregation of the ‘locals’ and the Indonesian Chinese that is definitely a legacy of the colonial era as well as both Sukarno’s and Suharto’s reigns. My interview with La Galigo Museum’s curator in 2019 revealed that the text was unintentionally written in this way.⁸⁰

Conclusion

This chapter shows that coloniality still exists in the cultural heritage and museum sector in postcolonial Indonesia. Although Fort Rotterdam changed in different political periods and is considered important because it was once a Nusantara fort, the work of decolonising the site requires more than merely changing its name to Fort Ujung Pandang in the 1970s. While this act nationalised the Celebes Museum and tried to re-establish it as a provincial museum called La Galigo, it did not entail decolonisation. Colonial points of view and knowledge-making were adapted by the New Order elites for the sake of nation-building. This legacy is still strongly embedded in the museum to the present day.

References

Primary sources

Bidang Permuseuman, Sejarah dan Kepurbakalaan [Museums, History and Antiquities Section]. 1975. Sebuah Laporan: Proyek Rehabilitasi dan Perluasan Museum La Galigo Sulawesi Selatan di Ujung Pandang [A Report: Rehabilitation and Expansion Project for La Galigo Museum South Sulawesi in Ujung Pandang]. Bogor: Kantor Wilayah Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan Propinsi Sulawesi Selatan [Regional Office of the Department of Education and Culture, South Sulawesi Province].

Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan [Department of Education and Culture]. 1979–80. Pedoman Pembakuan Museum Umum Tingkat Propinsi [Guidelines for Standardisation of Provincial Museums]. Jakarta: Proyek Pengembangan Permuseuman Jakarta [Jakarta Museum Development Project].

Kadir, Harun, and M. Yamin Data. 1985–86. Petunjuk Museum Negeri La Galigo Ujung Pandang [The Guidebook of the Provincial Museum La Galigo Ujung Pandang]. Makassar: Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan Direktorat Jenderal Kebudayaan Proyek Pengembangan Permuseuman Sulawesi Selatan [Department of Education and Culture, Directorate General of Culture, South Sulawesi Museum Development Project].

Ministry of Education and Culture. 2012. Forts in Indonesia. Jakarta: Ministry of Education and Culture of the Republic of Indonesia.

Mulyadi, Yadi. 2021. ‘Bermula dari Benteng Ujung Pandang: Telisik Nilai Penting Dibalik Fort Rotterdam [Starting from Fort Ujung Pandang: Explore the Important Values of Fort Rotterdam].’ In Fort Rotterdam. Benteng di Simpang Masa [Fort Rotterdam: Fort at the Junction of Time], edited by Iwan Sumantri, 103–34. Makassar: Balai Pelestarian Cagar Budaya Sulawesi Selatan [South Sulawesi Cultural Heritage Conservation Centre].

Museum La Galigo. 2011. Museum La Galigo. Makassar: PT Gramajapa Bersaudara Mandiri.

Ramli, Muhammad. 2021. ‘Peran dan Penamaan Benteng Ujungpandang dari Masa ke Masa [The Role and Naming of Fort Ujung Pandang from Time to Time].’ In Fort Rotterdam. Benteng di Simpang Masa [Fort Rotterdam: Fort at the Junction of Time], edited by Iwan Sumantri, 79–102. Makassar: Balai Pelestarian Cagar Budaya Sulawesi Selatan [South Sulawesi Cultural Heritage Conservation Centre].

Sagimun, M.D. 1992–93. Benteng Ujung Pandang [Fort Ujung Pandang]. Jakarta: Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan [Department of Education and Culture].

Sutaarga, Moh. Amir. 1962. Persoalan Musium di Indonesia [The Problems of Indonesian Museums]. Jakarta: Djawatan Kebudajaan Departemen PD dan K [Directorate of Museums, Directorate General of Culture, Department of Education and Culture].

Sutaarga, Moh. Amir. 1974. ‘Perspektif Pembinaan Museum di Indonesia [Perspectives on Museum Development in Indonesia].’ Museografia V, nos 3–4: 105–10.

UNESCO Office in Jakarta. 2011. Panduan Praktis untuk Revitalisasi Museum di Indonesia [The Practical Guide for Museum Revitalisation in Indonesia]. Jakarta: UNESCO Office in Jakarta and Ministry of Culture and Tourism of the Republic of Indonesia. unesdoc.unesco.org/ark:/48223/pf0000192097.

Unit Pelaksana Teknis Daerah [Regional Technical Implementation Unit] (UPTD) Museum La Galigo. 2008. Buku Petunjuk UPTD Museum La Galigo [La Galigo Museum Regional Technical Implementation Unit Manual]. Makassar: Pemerintah Provinsi Sulawesi Selatan Dinas Kebudayaan dan Pariwisata UPTD Museum La Galigo [South Sulawesi Provincial Government Culture and Tourism Service UPTD La Galigo Museum].

von Faber, G.H. 1939. Korte Handleiding Provinciaal en Stedelijk Museum [Short Guide to the Provincial and Municipal Museum]. Surabaya: Provinciaal en Stedelijk Historisch Museum [Provincial and Municipal History Museum].

Secondary sources

Aldrich, Robert. 2010. ‘Colonial Museums in a Postcolonial Europe.’ In Museums in Postcolonial Europe, edited by Dominic Thomas, 12–31. London: Routledge. doi.org/10.4324/9781315875453.

Alsair, Ach. Hidayat. 2019. ‘Perjuangan Gigih BF Matthes dan Colliq Pujie Bukukan I La Galigo [B.F. Matthes and Colliq Pujie’s Persistent Struggle to Write I La Galigo].’ IDN Times Sulsel [IDN Times South Sulawesi], 5 September. sulsel.idntimes.com/life/education/ahmad-hidayat-alsair/perjuangan-gigih-bf-matthes-dan-colliq-pujie-bukukan-i-la-galigo.

Arainikasih, Ajeng Ayu. 2021. ‘Heritage Politics and Museums during Japanese Occupation Period, 1942–1945.’ International Review of Humanities Studies 6, no. 1: 138–56.

Bloembergen, Marieke, and Martijn Eickhoff. 2020. The Politics of Heritage in Indonesia: A Cultural History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi.org/10.1017/9781108614757.

Broos, Tristan. 2010–11. ‘Het Atjehsch Legermuseum 1937–1942, waar de herinnering aan den Atjehkrijg aanschouwelijk werd bewaard [The Aceh Army Museum 1937–42, Where the Memory of the Aceh War Was Clearly Preserved].’ Armamentaria 45: 6–29.

Budiarti, Hari. 2007. ‘Taking and Returning Objects in a Colonial Context: Tracing the Collections Acquired during the Bone–Gowa Military Expeditions.’ In Colonial Collections Revisited, edited by Pieter ter Keurs, 123–44. Leiden: Leiden University Press.

Jones, Tod. 2013. Culture, Power, and Authoritarianism in the Indonesian State: Cultural Policy Across the Twentieth Century to the Reform Era. Boston: Brill. doi.org/10.1163/9789004255104.

Jonker, Johann Christoph Gerhard. 1909. ‘Levensbericht van B.F. Matthes [Biography of B.F. Matthes].’ In Jaarboek van de Maatschappij der Nederlandse Letterkunde, 1909 [Yearbook of the Society of Dutch Literature, 1909], 254–72. Leiden: Society of Dutch Literature. www.dbnl.org/tekst/_jaa003190901_01/_jaa003190901_01_0018.php.

Kreps, Christina Faye. 2020. Museums and Anthropology in the Age of Engagement. New York: Routledge. doi.org/10.4324/9780203702208.

Lan, Thung Ju. 2012. ‘Contesting the Post-Colonial Legal Construction of Chinese Indonesians as “Foreign Subjects”.’ Asian Ethnicity 13, no. 4: 373–87. doi.org/10.1080/14631369.2012.710075.

Legêne, Susan. 2014. ‘Museums, Empire Utopias and Connected Worlds.’ In Museums and the Idea of Historical Progress, edited by Rooksana Omar, Bongani Ndhlovu, Laura Gibson, and Shahid Vawda, 15–30. Cape Town: Iziko Museums and ICOM South Africa.

Lidchi, Henrietta. 2013. ‘The Poetics and the Politics of Exhibiting Other Cultures.’ In Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices, edited by Stuart Hall, Jessica Evans, and Sean Nixon, 168–84. 2nd edn. London: Sage Publications.

Luttikhuis, Bart. 2013. ‘Beyond Race: Constructions of “Europeanness” in Late-Colonial Legal Practice in the Dutch East Indies.’ European Review of History: Revue Européenne d’Histoire 20, no. 4: 539–58. doi.org/10.1080/13507486.2013.764845.

Mackenzie, John M. 2009. Museums and Empire: Natural History, Human Cultures and Colonial Identities. Manchester: Manchester University Press.

Margana, Sri. 2018. ‘Sana Budaya: Dari Orientalisme hingga Nasionalisme [Sana Budaya: From Orientalism to Nationalism].’ In Sonobudoyo: Sejarah dan Identitas Keistimewaan [Sonobudoyo: History and Special Identity], edited by Herry Mardianto, 1–14. Yogyakarta: Museum Sonobudoyo.

McGregor, Katharine E. 2004. ‘Museums and the Transformation from Colonial to Post-Colonial Institutions in Indonesia: A Case Study of the Indonesian National Museum, Formerly the Batavia Museum.’ In Performing Objects: Museums, Material Culture and Performance in Southeast Asia, edited by Fiona Kerlogue, 15–29. London: The Horniman Museum and Gardens.

Mignolo, Walter D., and Catherine E. Walsh. 2018. On Decoloniality: Concepts, Analytics, Praxis. Durham: Duke University Press. doi.org/10.1215/9780822371779.

Nordholt, Henk Schulte. 2004. De-Colonizing Indonesian Historiography. Working Paper No. 6. Lund: Lund University.

Nurhadi. 2022. ‘Inilah Alasan Nama Ujung Pandang Berganti Jadi Makassar [This is the Reason Ujung Pandang’s Name Changed to Makassar].’ Tempo.co, [Jakarta], 7 July. nasional.tempo.co/read/1609468/inilah-alasan-nama-ujung-pandang-berganti-jadi-makassar.

Purnamasari, Anggi. 2021. ‘Benteng Rotterdam Sebagai Public Space [Fort Rotterdam as a Public Space].’ In Fort Rotterdam. Benteng di Simpang Masa [Fort Rotterdam: Fort at the Junction of Time], edited by Iwan Sumantri, 283–312. Makassar: Balai Pelestarian Cagar Budaya Sulawesi Selatan [South Sulawesi Cultural Heritage Conservation Centre].

Quijano, Aníbal. 2007. ‘Coloniality and Modernity/Rationality.’ Cultural Studies 21, nos 2–3: 168–78. doi.org/10.1080/09502380601164353.

Raditya, Iswara N. 2019. ‘Arung Palakka diantara Gelar Pahlawan dan Pengkhianat [Arung Palakka between the Titles of Hero and Traitor].’ Tirto.id, [Jakarta], 5 April. tirto.id/arung-palakka-di-antara-gelar-pahlawan-dan-pengkhianat-cmej.

Scheurleer, Pauline Lunsingh. 2007. ‘Collecting Javanese Antiquities: The Appropriation of a Newly Discovered Hindu–Buddhist Civilization.’ In Colonial Collections Revisited, edited by Pieter ter Keurs, 73–114. Leiden: Leiden University Press.

Shatanawi, Mirjam. 2022. ‘Making and Unmaking Indonesian Islam: Legacies of Colonialism in Museums.’ PhD diss., University of Amsterdam.

Sujana, Adang, and Nafsiah Aswawi. 2021. ‘Arsitektur Fort Rotterdam [The Architecture of Fort Rotterdam].’ In Fort Rotterdam. Benteng di Simpang Masa [Fort Rotterdam: Fort at the Junction of Time], edited by Iwan Sumantri, 189–224. Makassar: Balai Pelestarian Cagar Budaya Sulawesi Selatan [South Sulawesi Cultural Heritage Conservation Centre].

Sysling, Fenneke. 2016. Racial Science and Human Diversity in Colonial Indonesia. Singapore: NUS Press.

van Dijk, C. 2002. ‘Gathering and Describing: Western Interest in Eastern Nature and Culture.’ In Treasure Hunting? Collectors and Collections of Indonesian Artefacts, edited by Reimar Schefold and Hans F. Vermeulen, 23–46. Leiden: CNWS Publications and the National Museum of Ethnology.

Vickers, Adrian. 2010. ‘Dugas Jepangé/The Japanese Period: Bali under the Japanese.’ In The Encyclopedia of Indonesia in the Pacific War, edited by Peter Post, William H. Frederick, Iris Heidebrink, and Shigeru Sato, 86–92. Boston: Brill.

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1. 1 Muhammad Ramli, ‘Peran dan Penamaan Benteng Ujungpandang dari Masa ke Masa [The Role and Naming of Fort Ujung Pandang from Time to Time]’, in Fort Rotterdam. Benteng di Simpang Masa [Fort Rotterdam: Fort at the Junction of Time], ed. Iwan Sumantri (Makassar: Balai Pelestarian Cagar Budaya Sulawesi Selatan [South Sulawesi Cultural Heritage Conservation Centre], 2021), 79–102, at 84–90.

2. 2 Hari Budiarti, ‘Taking and Returning Objects in a Colonial Context: Tracing the Collections Acquired during the Bone–Gowa Military Expeditions’, in Colonial Collections Revisited, ed. Pieter ter Keurs (Leiden: Leiden University Press, 2007), 123–44, at 123–26.

3. 3 Ramli, ‘The Role and Naming of Fort Ujung Pandang’, 84–90.

4. 4 Budiarti, ‘Taking and Returning Objects in a Colonial Context’, 123–26.

5. 5 ibid.

6. 6 Yadi Mulyadi, ‘Bermula dari Benteng Ujung Pandang: Telisik Nilai Penting Dibalik Fort Rotterdam [Starting from Fort Ujung Pandang: Explore the Important Values of Fort Rotterdam]’, in Fort Rotterdam. Benteng di Simpang Masa [Fort Rotterdam: Fort at the Junction of Time], ed. Iwan Sumantri (Makassar: Balai Pelestarian Cagar Budaya Sulawesi Selatan [South Sulawesi Cultural Heritage Conservation Centre], 2021), 103–34, at 103–4.

7. 7 Ministry of Education and Culture, Forts in Indonesia (Jakarta: Ministry of Education and Culture of the Republic of Indonesia, 2012), 20–21.

8. 8 M.D. Sagimun, Benteng Ujung Pandang [Fort Ujung Pandang] (Jakarta: Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan [Department of Education and Culture], 1992–93), 1–4.

9. 9 Ministry of Education and Culture, Forts in Indonesia, 195.

10. 10 Anggi Purnamasari, ‘Benteng Rotterdam Sebagai Public Space [Fort Rotterdam as a Public Space]’, in Fort Rotterdam. Benteng di Simpang Masa [Fort Rotterdam: Fort at the Junction of Time], ed. Iwan Sumantri (Makassar: Balai Pelestarian Cagar Budaya Sulawesi Selatan [South Sulawesi Cultural Heritage Conservation Centre], 2021), 283–312, at 302–11.

11. 11 Ministry of Education and Culture, Forts in Indonesia, 187–95.

12. 12 Aníbal Quijano, ‘Coloniality and Modernity/Rationality’, Cultural Studies 21, nos 2–3 (2007): 168–78, doi.org/10.1080/09502380601164353; Walter D. Mignolo and Catherine E. Walsh, On Decoloniality: Concepts, Analytics, Praxis (Durham: Duke University Press, 2018), doi.org/10.1215/9780822371779, 17.

13. 13 Mirjam Shatanawi, ‘Making and Unmaking Indonesian Islam: Legacies of Colonialism in Museums’ (PhD diss., University of Amsterdam, Netherlands 2022), 14.

14. 14 Adang Sujana and Nafsiah Aswawi, ‘Arsitektur Fort Rotterdam [The Architecture of Fort Rotterdam]’, in Fort Rotterdam. Benteng di Simpang Masa [Fort Rotterdam: Fort at the Junction of Time], ed. Iwan Sumantri (Makassar: Balai Pelestarian Cagar Budaya Sulawesi Selatan [South Sulawesi Cultural Heritage Conservation Centre], 2021), 189–224, at 199–213.

15. 15 Ministry of Education and Culture, Forts in Indonesia, 192.

16. 16 Mulyadi, ‘Starting from Fort Ujung Pandang’, 104.

17. 17 Budiarti, ‘Taking and Returning Objects in a Colonial Context’, 126–32.

18. 18 ‘Restauratie Fort Rotterdam [Restoration of Fort Rotterdam]’, Bataviaasch Nieuwsblad [Batavia Newspaper], 27 May 1938; ‘Het Historische Fort Rotterdam [The Historic Fort Rotterdam]’, Nieuwe Apeldoornsche Courant, 29 November 1938.

19. 19 Mulyadi, ‘Starting from Fort Ujung Pandang’, 104.

20. 20 ‘Restoration of Fort Rotterdam’, Batavia Newspaper; ‘The Historic Fort Rotterdam’, Nieuwe Apeldoornsche Courant.

21. 21 ‘Het fort Rotterdam en de Matthes stichting [Fort Rotterdam and the Matthes Foundation]’, Het Vaderland [The Fatherland], 4 August 1936.

22. 22 ‘Het museumwezen in Indie [Museums in the Indies]’, De Indische Courant, 11 November 1935.

23. 23 ‘Benjamin Frederik Matthes’, Tirto.id, [Jakarta], tirto.id/m/benjamin-frederik-matthes-pM.

24. 24 Johann Christoph Gerhard Jonker, ‘Levensbericht van B.F. Matthes [Biography of B.F. Matthes]’, in Jaarboek van de Maatschappij der Nederlandse Letterkunde, 1909 [Yearbook of the Society of Dutch Literature, 1909] (Leiden: Society of Dutch Literature, 1909), 254–72, www.dbnl.org/tekst/_jaa003190901_01/_jaa003190901_01_0018.php.

25. 25 Ach. Hidayat Alsair, ‘Perjuangan Gigih BF Matthes dan Colliq Pujie Bukukan I La Galigo [B.F. Matthes and Colliq Pujie’s Persistent Struggle to Write I La Galigo]’, IDN Times Sulsel [IDN Times South Sulawesi], 5 September 2019, sulsel.idntimes.com/life/education/ahmad-hidayat-alsair/perjuangan-gigih-bf-matthes-dan-colliq-pujie-bukukan-i-la-galigo.

26. 26 Harun Kadir and M. Yamin Data, Petunjuk Museum Negeri La Galigo Ujung Pandang [The Guidebook of Provincial Museum La Galigo Ujung Pandang] (Makassar: Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan Direktorat Jenderal Kebudayaan Proyek Pengembangan Permuseuman Sulawesi Selatan [Department of Education and Culture, Directorate General of Culture, South Sulawesi Museum Development Project], 1985–86), 28–29; Wall text in the lobby of the permanent exhibition, Museum La Galigo, Makassar, Indonesia.

27. 27 Pauline Lunsingh Scheurleer, ‘Collecting Javanese Antiquities: The Appropriation of a Newly Discovered Hindu–Buddhist Civilization’, in Colonial Collections Revisited, ed. Pieter ter Keurs (Leiden: Leiden University Press, 2007), 73–114, at 85–97; Sri Margana, ‘Sana Budaya: Dari Orientalisme hingga Nasionalisme [Sana Budaya: From Orientalism to Nationalism]’, in Sonobudoyo: Sejarah dan Identitas Keistimewaan [Sonobudoyo: History and Special Identity], ed. Herry Mardianto (Yogyakarta: Museum Sonobudoyo, 2018), 1–14; Marieke Bloembergen and Martijn Eickhoff, The Politics of Heritage in Indonesia: A Cultural History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020), doi.org/10.1017/9781108614757, 22–60.

28. 28 Margana, ‘Sana Budaya’.

29. 29 G.H. von Faber, Korte Handleiding Provinciaal en Stedelijk Museum [Short Guide to the Provincial and Municipal Museum] (Surabaya: Provinciaal en Stedelijk Historisch Museum [Provincial and Municipal History Museum], 1939), 7–9.

30. 30 Tristan Broos, ‘Het Atjehsch Legermuseum 1937–1942, waar de herinnering aan den Atjehkrijg aanschouwelijk werd bewaard [The Aceh Army Museum 1937–42, Where the Memory of the Aceh War Was Clearly Preserved]’, Armamentaria 45 (2010–11): 6–29.

31. 31 ‘Atjehsch Legermuseum [The Aceh Army Museum]’, De Tijd [The Time], 30 March 1938.

32. 32 ‘Het Graf van Coen. Het plan-Blankenberg Goedgekeurd [Coen’s Grave. The Blankenberg Plan Approved]’, Sumatra Post, 17 November 1937; ‘Het Coen-Monument en Museum [The Coen Monument and Museum]’, De Indische Courant, 18 November 1939; ‘Museum Oud Batavia [Old Batavia Museum]’, Algemeen Handelsblad, 13 December 1939.

33. 33 Ministry of Education and Culture, Forts in Indonesia, 192.

34. 34 Ramli, ‘The Role and Naming of Fort Ujung Pandang’, 94–95.

35. 35 Tod Jones, Culture, Power, and Authoritarianism in the Indonesian State: Cultural Policy across the Twentieth Century to the Reform Era (Boston: Brill, 2013), doi.org/10.1163/9789004255104, 162–69.

36. 36 Ramli, ‘The Role and Naming of Fort Ujung Pandang’, 94–95.

37. 37 Sagimun, Fort Ujung Pandang, 4.

38. 38 Nurhadi, ‘Inilah Alasan Nama Ujung Pandang Berganti Jadi Makassar [This is the Reason Ujung Pandang’s Name Changed to Makassar]’, Tempo.co, [Jakarta], 7 July 2022, nasional.tempo.co/read/1609468/inilah-alasan-nama-ujung-pandang-berganti-jadi-makassar.

39. 39 Budiarti, ‘Taking and Returning Objects in a Colonial Context’, 123–26.

40. 40 Nurhadi, ‘This is the Reason Ujung Pandang’s Name Changed to Makassar’.

41. 41 Mulyadi, ‘Starting from Fort Ujung Pandang’, 103–6.

42. 42 Margana, ‘Sana Budaya’, 1–14.

43. 43 Ajeng Ayu Arainikasih, ‘Heritage Politics and Museums during Japanese Occupation Period, 1942–1945’, International Review of Humanities Studies 6, no. 1 (2021): 138–56, at 140–42.

44. 44 Bloembergen and Eickhoff, The Politics of Heritage in Indonesia, 171.

45. 45 C. van Dijk, ‘Gathering and Describing: Western Interest in Eastern Nature and Culture’, in Treasure Hunting? Collectors and Collections of Indonesian Artefacts, eds Reimar Schefold and Hans F. Vermeulen (Leiden: CNWS Publications and the National Museum of Ethnology, 2002), 23–46, at 36; Scheurleer, ‘Collecting Javanese Antiquities’, 85–97.

46. 46 Robert Aldrich, ‘Colonial Museums in a Postcolonial Europe’, in Museums in Postcolonial Europe, ed. Dominic Thomas (London: Routledge, 2010), 12–31, doi.org/10.4324/9781315875453, at 12–18.

47. 47 John M. Mackenzie, Museums and Empire: Natural History, Human Cultures and Colonial Identities (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009), 1–17; Susan Legêne, ‘Museums, Empire Utopias and Connected Worlds’, in Museums and the Idea of Historical Progress, eds Rooksana Omar, Bongani Ndhlovu, Laura Gibson, and Shahid Vawda (Cape Town: Iziko Museums and ICOM South Africa, 2014), 15–30.

48. 48 Aldrich, ‘Colonial Museums in a Postcolonial Europe’, 14.

49. 49 Henrietta Lidchi, ‘The Poetics and the Politics of Exhibiting Other Cultures’, in Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices, ed. Stuart Hall, Jessica Evans, and Sean Nixon, 2nd edn (London: Sage Publications, 2013), 168–84.

50. 50 Kadir and Data, The Guidebook of the Provincial Museum La Galigo Ujung Pandang, 28–29.

51. 51 Ministry of Education and Culture, Forts in Indonesia, 192.

52. 52 Arainikasih, ‘Heritage Politics and Museums during Japanese Occupation Period’.

53. 53 Adrian Vickers, ‘Dugas Jepangé/The Japanese Period: Bali under the Japanese’, in The Encyclopedia of Indonesia in the Pacific War, eds Peter Post, William H. Frederick, Iris Heidebrink, and Shigeru Sato (Boston: Brill, 2010), 86–92, at 92.

54. 54 ‘Uitwisseling Museumstukken Leeuwarden–Makassar [Exchange of Museum Pieces Leeuwarden–Makassar]’, De Heerenveensche Courier [Heerenveen Courier], 28 August 1948; ‘Makassar’s burgemeester te Leeuwarden, 27 Aug [Makassar’s Mayor in Leeuwarden, 27 August]’, Nieuwsblad van Friesland [Newspaper of Friesland], 30 August 1948.

55. 55 Unit Pelaksana Teknis Daerah [Regional Technical Implementation Unit] (UPTD) Museum La Galigo, Buku Petunjuk UPTD Museum La Galigo [La Galigo Museum Regional Technical Implementation Unit Manual] (Makassar: Pemerintah Provinsi Sulawesi Selatan Dinas Kebudayaan dan Pariwisata UPTD Museum La Galigo [South Sulawesi Provincial Government Culture and Tourism Service UPTD La Galigo Museum], 2008), 17.

56. 56 Kadir and Data, The Guidebook of the Provincial Museum La Galigo Ujung Pandang, 28–29.

57. 57 Museum La Galigo (Makassar: PT Gramajapa Bersaudara Mandiri, 2011), 4.

58. 58 Katharine E. McGregor, ‘Museums and the Transformation from Colonial to Post-Colonial Institutions in Indonesia: A Case Study of the Indonesian National Museum, Formerly the Batavia Museum’, in Performing Objects: Museums, Material Culture and Performance in Southeast Asia, ed. Fiona Kerlogue (London: The Horniman Museum and Gardens, 2004), 15–29.

59. 59 Jones, Culture, Power, and Authoritarianism in the Indonesian State, 166.

60. 60 Moh. Amir Sutaarga, Persoalan Musium di Indonesia [The Problems of Indonesian Museums] (Jakarta: Djawatan Kebudajaan Departemen PD dan K [Directorate of Museums, Directorate General of Culture, Department of Education and Culture], 1962), 11–45.

61. 61 Bidang Permuseuman, Sejarah dan Kepurbakalaan [Museums, History and Antiquities Section], Sebuah Laporan: Proyek Rehabilitasi dan Perluasan Museum La Galigo Sulawesi Selatan di Ujung Pandang [A Report: Rehabilitation and Expansion Project for La Galigo Museum South Sulawesi in Ujung Pandang] (Bogor: Kantor Wilayah Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan Propinsi Sulawesi Selatan [Regional Office of the Department of Education and Culture, South Sulawesi Province], 1975), 1–4.

62. 62 Sutaarga, The Problems of Indonesian Museums, 81.

63. 63 Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan [Department of Education and Culture], Pedoman Pembakuan Museum Umum Tingkat Propinsi [Guidelines for Standardisation of Provincial Museums] (Jakarta: Proyek Pengembangan Permuseuman Jakarta [Jakarta Museum Development Project], 1979–80), 8.

64. 64 Department of Education and Culture, Guidelines for Standardisation of Provincial Museums, 25.

65. 65 Moh. Amir Sutaarga, ‘Perspektif Pembinaan Museum di Indonesia [Perspectives on Museum Development in Indonesia]’, Museografia V, nos 3–4 (1974): 105–10, at 110.

66. 66 Department of Education and Culture, Guidelines for Standardisation of Provincial Museums, 25.

67. 67 Sujana and Aswawi, ‘The Architecture of Fort Rotterdam’, 209.

68. 68 Christina F. Kreps, Museums and Anthropology in the Age of Engagement (New York: Routledge, 2020), doi.org/10.4324/9780203702208, 153–84.

69. 69 UNESCO Office in Jakarta, Panduan Praktis untuk Revitalisasi Museum di Indonesia [The Practical Guide for Indonesian Museum Revitalisation] (Jakarta: UNESCO Office in Jakarta and Ministry of Culture and Tourism of the Republic of Indonesia, 2011), unesdoc.unesco.org/ark:/48223/pf0000192097, 2.

70. 70 Object label, ‘Simbol Kekuasaan dan Kekuatan [Symbol of Power and Strength]’, Permanent Exhibition, Museum La Galigo, Makassar, Indonesia.

71. 71 Iswara N. Raditya, ‘Arung Palakka diantara Gelar Pahlawan dan Pengkhianat [Arung Palakka between the Titles of Hero and Traitor]’, Tirto.id, [Jakarta], 5 April 2019, tirto.id/arung-palakka-di-antara-gelar-pahlawan-dan-pengkhianat-cmej.

72. 72 Henk Schulte Nordholt, De-Colonizing Indonesian Historiography, Working Paper No. 6 (Lund: Lund University, 2004), 7–8.

73. 73 ibid., 7–8.

74. 74 Purnamasari, ‘Fort Rotterdam as a Public Space’, 299.

75. 75 Fenneke Sysling, Racial Science and Human Diversity in Colonial Indonesia (Singapore: NUS Press, 2016), 10.

76. 76 Wall text, ‘Pertumbuhan dan Perkembangan Kota [City Growth and Development]’, Permanent Exhibition, Museum La Galigo, Makassar, Indonesia.

77. 77 Bart Luttikhuis, ‘Beyond Race: Constructions of “Europeanness” in Late-Colonial Legal Practice in the Dutch East Indies’, European Review of History: Revue Européenne d’histoire 20, no. 4 (2013): 539–58, doi.org/10.1080/13507486.2013.764845.

78. 78 The aborted coup known as the Thirtieth of September Movement and subsequent anticommunist mass violence.

79. 79 Thung Ju Lan, ‘Contesting the Post-Colonial Legal Construction of Chinese Indonesians as “Foreign Subjects”’, Asian Ethnicity 13, no. 4 (2012): 373–87, doi.org/10.1080/14631369.2012.710075, at 375–77.

80. 80 Lenora (curator of La Galigo Museum), Interviewed by Ajeng Ayu Arainikasih, Makassar, 7 October 2019.