Women left out in the cold: When a Balinese woman was mutilated by her husband,it created a media storm within Indonesia and shed light on domestic abuse there. And yet it barely dented its international reputation

Bali is known as much for its warm people as its beautiful beaches. But this reputation hides issues of domestic violence, writes Johannes Nugroho

Balinese women take part in a Melasti ceremony in Kuta, a resort in the south of the island

CREDIT: Sonny Tumbelaka/Afp/Getty

EACH YEAR, MILLIONS of people flock to the tropical beach paradise that is Bali. While arguably more scenic and exotic destinations exist elsewhere within the Indonesian archipelago, Bali bests the others in one inimitable asset: the reputation of its people as being hospitable. This reputation is partly fed by an assumption that the mainly Hindu Balinese are relatively liberal compared with those in the mostly Muslim parts of Indonesia. Balinese women traditionally went about their business barebreasted until the 1950s when President Sukarno put a stop to the practice in the name of nationalism.

But these seemingly modern attitudes have their limits. For Bali’s women, a strong patriarchal society means many are without a voice. This reality was seen in horrific fashion at the end of last year when a local woman, Ni Putu Kariani, had her legs mutilated by her jealous husband. The husband had been abusive for years and yet whenever she told her parents, they simply asked her to “have patience”.

In this instance, the man was recently sentenced to eight years in prison although, according to the court transcript, his wife appears to have lost custody of her child to her mother-in-law. For other women, justice if it can be called that – has not been served. In 2017 alone, 118 cases of domestic violence were reported in Bali, according to local news site Bali Ekbis. It is believed most victims never step forward and domestic abuse remains a problem.

While the Kariani news story raced around the Indonesian media and was published on the BBC’s Indonesia site in Indonesian, it never made it into major international media. With the exception of the terrorist attacks back in 2002, Bali’s reputation as a paradise remains. And so, too, does the patriarchy.

Although the earliest Balinese women’s rights movement dates back to the 1930s, with the founding of organisations such as Putri Bali Sadar, there have been few changes to the rules and taboos governing the island’s population, known as hukum adat, which remain vigorously patriarchal.

Inheritance customs are another example of the difficulties women face. Traditionally barred from inheriting from their husbands or parents until a 2010 ruling said they had the same rights to inherit as men, women continue to be left out. Kadek Wirawan, a Balinese history expert from Denpasar, the island’s capital, points out that most Balinese still practise male primogeniture in matters of inheritance.

“By customary law, women can only inherit if her status as pradhana (feminine) is changed to purusha (masculine). Families with no male heir usually adopt this practice. Women whose status is purusha, however, can’t be proposed to – they have to propose to their prospective husbands!”

Komang Triyani, a working mother from Tabanan in central Bali, admits that her culture strongly favours the male, but argues that it is not without reason.

“It is also men who have to continue the family line, carry out religious rituals for the ancestors and so on,” she said. “This is why most Balinese consider having a son to be extremely important. As a Balinese, I can accept this.”

Triyani’s ready acceptance of the status quo appears to be common among Balinese women. When conducting interviews for this article, the overwhelming majority of respondents were reluctant to share their views on gender equality – it appeared to be a taboo topic. Most who were willing to speak defended the paternalistic customs and tended to see it as something that was somehow immutable.

But some are critical. Luh Manis, an entrepreneur and trained Jero (a Balinese priestess), says that even though she loves the Balinese culture, she takes issue with the lack of equality.

Those who dare criticise our own customs must be prepared to face ostracism by their neighbours

“There’s definitely a taboo on women speaking about our customary laws, which are seen to be the domain of men,” she said. “Customary-laws councils, even at the lowest village level, are dominated by men, which is why the rules tend to disregard women’s needs.”

Women at work in Bali, 2016

CREDIT: Anton Raharjo/NurPhoto/Getty

The inability of women to speak about inequality looks set to continue. Bali has its regional election on 27 June and none of the candidates are female.

Wayan Jarrah Sastrawan, a PhD student of Asian history at the University of Sydney, argues that hukum adat should move with the times.

“Many Balinese people don’t have a strong sense for the history of their adat law, but basically see [it] as fixed or at least very difficult to change, despite the fact that adat law has always been dynamic and responsive to change,” he said.

Sastrawan, who has studied Sanskrit and ancient Balinese, believes that gender inequality in Bali has ancient roots.

“The scriptural base of Balinese religion is a set of Hindu documents (some in Sanskrit, most translated into Kawi and Balinese) that are very misogynistic.”

The combination of treating hukum adat as being set in stone and pervasive misogyny has resulted in self-censorship among Balinese women.

“Those who dare criticise our own customs must be prepared to face ostracism by their neighbours and even family members,” Manis said. “This is true especially in small villages where social conformity is high. At the very least, you’ll be the talk of the village.”

Since most Balinese are raised to attach great importance to religious rites of passage, an existence cut off from society is unthinkable. While there are civil society organisations advocating women’s emancipation in Bali, most toe the line when it comes to “respecting” customary law. The few exceptions that remain critical tend to receive minimal support from both society and government.

Feminist magazine Bali Sruti blazed a trail for seven years. Under an NGO with the same name, it consistently took to task various forms of discrimination towards women and was often critical of the patriarchal elements in Balinese society. But it had to cease publication last year due to lack of funding.

With added pressure on the Balinese as a minority culture within Muslim-majority Indonesia, the drive to preserve their hereditary customs often takes precedence over gender equality, making it difficult to tolerate critical thoughts from outsiders, let alone self-criticism.

The future of advocacy for women’s rights on the island seems to depend on the initiative of its women to express themselves more freely.

“I think it’s important for women in Bali to speak out. Not enough of us do – even our most accomplished women shy away from being frank, out of deference for our customs,” Manis said.

With these strong traditions and another set of men due to be the leaders of Bali from the end of June, how – and when – will women gain a voice?