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| Indonesian migrant workers hone their activist sensibilities at a protest in Hong kong - istolethetv.com |
Like many rural teenagers, Bariyah,
the daughter of peasant parents, did not have many options when she finished
secondary school in Kebumen District, Central Java. Her vocational training in
accounting was out of place in an area in need of agricultural skills. When her
teacher offered to help her (and the rest of her year group) find work in
Malaysia, it felt like a godsend. It turned out that this teacher was a broker,
who was able to place her in an electronics factory in Kuala Lumpur. Bariyah
was made to sign a contract, but did so without adequate knowledge of its
terms. Unknowingly, she had placed herself US$800 in debt to the recruitment
agency. Sixteen months later, the electronics business went under. She was sent
home without compensation and still in debt. She was also owed six months’
wages. The agency that guaranteed her contract refused to take any
responsibility for her situation. Disappointed but refusing to cave in, Bariyah
contacted Migrant Care, a non-government organization (NGO) for migrant
workers, to ask for help. Two years later, she is a legal officer in the
Migrant Care office in Jakarta and studying law at Bung Karno University.
This is an increasingly familiar
story. A one-time victim who subsequently becomes an activist in the sphere of
migrant worker protection. There are many similar examples: the head of ATKI
(Association of Indonesian Migrant Workers) in Jakarta was a domestic worker in
Hong Kong for 11 years; PBM (Care for Migrant Workers) is led by a woman who
was trafficked to Taiwan; a month in Saudi prison was enough to turn Eko
Yulianto, a native of Purwokerto who worked as a driver, into a committed
defender of migrant workers’ rights with the organisation BMIAS (Indonesian
Migrant Workers in Saudi Arabia). The list could go on. Faced with predicaments
that could easily have caused them to fall to pieces, these migrants have
instead been motivated to fight for
justice – not just for themselves but also for other migrant workers. ‘I was
just angry that people like me were treated badly simply because we were not
educated and came from the countryside,’ explains Bariyah. ‘I am now studying
law as a kind of personal revenge and to help people in similar situations.’
Becoming an activist
Many rural Indonesians struggle to
find jobs in the increasingly uncompetitive agricultural economy. Such
circumstances make the promise of a relatively high paying overseas job look
attractive. Workers who had never ventured beyond the physical and social
boundaries of their extended families thus find themselves in the hustle and
bustle of an Asian or Middle Eastern metropolis, albeit often locked within the
confines of their employer’s house.
Those who are lucky enough to land
a job in a relatively forgiving environment, such as Hong Kong, are exposed to
a vibrant civil society well-versed in the language of international law and
human rights. Very quickly they find their way into the various organisations
and movements set up by churches and other civil society groups to support a
migrant worker population of over 300,000. On their days off they join street
marches and protests to defend the rights of migrant workers. Their voices are
amplified by the support of local and international NGOs that are present in
the city. A number of migrant workers’ unions were in fact founded in
Hong Kong and only later established branch offices in the workers’ home
countries. Upon their return, many such workers are keen to continue the
struggle.
There can also be more personal
reasons for getting involved in activism upon return from working abroad.
Migrant workers pick up the lifestyles of ordinary Hong Kong, Taiwanese or
Singaporean citizens they live with. This is typically on show on Sundays in
public squares, when they congregate to spend their days off together. More
importantly, they appropriate the skills, values and worldviews of their host
societies. These are not always in harmony with the more traditional values of
their home towns and villages. Indeed, many of them struggle with acceptance
and self-expression on return. As it turns out, back home their empowered self does not
always get the recognition it once received overseas. Only a few opportunities, such as being an activist, give them the scope
to build on and develop their new identities.
Filling a gap in the system
Armed with experience and
knowledge, former migrant workers provide a critical service in the
bureaucratic jungle that surrounds any attempt to improve protection for
migrant workers. A returned migrant worker seeking redress for her misfortune
faces the daunting prospect of having to negotiate with both the agency that
placed her in overseas employment and a variety of government bodies. Under Law
No. 39/2009 on the protection and placement of migrant workers, the first step
in a dispute is for workers to negotiate directly with their recruitment
agencies. Paperwork, unfamiliar legal jargon and unfriendly officials all add
to the sense of intimidation that the worker experiences when walking into a
recruitment agency office, which will typically be located in a secure private
complex. Moreover, since most agencies are located in and around Jakarta,
negotiation requires returnees to undertake a long and expensive journey from
their homes, which are often in rural areas of Java or the outer islands. In
short, inherent power imbalances permeate almost every aspect of the
negotiation process. The presence of an experienced ‘case-handler’ is thus a
tremendous help. The case-handler assists with gathering documents and evidence
as well as representing the worker in making claims against recruitment
agencies, insurance companies or government bodies.
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| Bariyah with the Migrant Care crew in 2012 - Indah Josephine |
And there is a lot of work to do.
In 2012, the BNP2TKI (National Agency for Placement and Protection of
Indonesian Migrant Workers) received 9764 complaints from migrant workers and
their families, mostly to do with non-payment of wages. However, this is just
the tip of the iceberg. Migrant Care has identified 398,270 cases in which
Indonesian migrant workers suffered violations of their rights during 2013
alone. Despite this high number, however, migrant workers have no access to
state-funded legal aid, which is only available to criminal defendants.
Limited legal aid services are
available to migrant workers through the private sector, and through university
law schools, some of which offer legal advice as a public outreach service. The
majority of cases, however, are handled by non-legal civil society
organisations, usually staffed by former migrant workers. Over time, these
case-handlers have built up a network of personal relations with relevant
government officials and staffers at insurance companies and recruitment
agencies. This way, they work more efficiently in obtaining some kind of
compensation for their clients. Lily Kusnadi, a former migrant worker in Taiwan
and the chairwoman of PBM, has forged personal relations with officials in the
Department of Labour and Transmigration and the BNP2TKI. Thanks to these
carefully cultivated relations, she is able to secure payments for her clients,
sometimes even from the personal pockets of the officials. Ties with the
political elite can also provide other corollary benefits. On one occasion, the
wife of the Minister of Labour and Transmigration came to open PBM’s new
shelter for abused migrant workers. The shelter had been supported by donations
from, amongst others, the minister’s wife and the owner of a recruitment agency
in Surabaya, East Java. Meeting Lily today, it can be hard to remember that she
is someone whose marginal position in the Indonesian political economy once
drove her to Taiwan.
A case of empowerment?
Despite their effectiveness, the
important role played by these
case-handlers reveals a glaring gap in Indonesia’s justice system. Law No.
16/2011 may change this. It emphasizes the right to access justice and promises
state funding for legal aid services. However, until the relevant bureaucratic
hurdles are crossed and the new law can be fully implemented, case-handlers
such as Bariyah will continue to provide vital services.
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| Lily Kusnadi celebrates the opening of PBM shelter for abused migrant workers - Benny Juliawan |
One wonders also what the future
will hold for these case-handlers. Their empowerment has intriguing parallels
with developments seen in the world of industrial trade unions and the human
rights movement, where members’ fights for justice has propelled them up the
political ladder into prominent positions within political parties or patronage
networks, a phenomenon so common in Indonesian democracy. One thing is clear:
migrant workers such as Bariyah may once have been down but they are surely not
out and seem destined to play an important role in Indonesia’s vibrant civil
society for the foreseeable future.
Benny Hari Juliawan (orwellsj@gmail.com) is a researcher in Sahabat Insan, a NGO working on migrant worker issues
based in Jakarta
