Why is it so important to conserve a heritage building? Before proceeding to answer the question, we might want to consider a specific case. The protracted polemic of the case in 2009, which has virtually disappeared from the mass media, has forced us to reconsider this case: that of the ex-Immigration Office of Central Jakarta, which today is known mostly as Buddha Bar.

In terms of the stories it has so far contained, this ex-immigration office is indeed full of historical meanings. It was built in 1913 under the direction of PAJ Moojen as the architect. The edifice was the first to use reinforced concrete in Indonesia. It initially housed the Kunstkring (Art Circle) until 1936 before it functioned as the head office of Majelis Islam A’la Indonesia (1942 – 1945), and then used as the Immigration Office for Central Jakarta (1950 – 1997).

The peculiar fate that befalls the former Immigration Office building began in 1997, when the heritage building was sold to Tommy Soeharto, the son of the then-president Soeharto. It was then left neglected and thus stripped by robbers. The window frames and stairs were removed, taken to the black market. The solution taken was no less bizarre. In 2003, on the order of the then-Governor Sutiyoso, the government bought back the building at around Rp23 – 28 billions, using the funds from the coffers of the regional government. The fate did not change much, however, as after the heritage building—which should not be sold in the first place—had been bought back by the government at such an exorbitant price, using public money, it remained unclear what the government would do to the building.

There seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel when, urged by the residents of Menteng through Walibatu organization (citizens’ coalition for heritage buildings), in 2003 the regional government held an open competition to determine the future use of the building. Fauzi Bowo, who at the time was the vice-governor of the Regional Government of the Special Capital Territory of Jakarta, helped facilitate the process and make the competition possible. The competition produced three winners: Dasin Hillery, Suci Mayang Sari, and Agus Surya Sadana.

The curious case of the heritage building still remained, however. When the competition was taking place, the government proceeded in restoring the edifice. It was not clear what the standards they used when restoring the place, and understandably so, because initial researches about the physical features of the building—before and after the looting—had not been done. As the restoration was done without clear parameters, a lot of the structural and decorative elements of the building were randomly replaced, while the looted parts remained missing.

Bring this issue to Pradaningrum Mijarto, and she will tell you how she considers this case as the one that has been troubling her most. She is neither an architect nor an expert in conservation. Before she studied about the management of heritage buildings in the Netherlands, Pradaningrum was actually a graduate of the International Relations studies. She is a journalist at the Warta Kota newspaper, with a great interest in history—especially when it is about the misuse of heritage buildings. But it is precisely Jakarta—the city where she works—that is most often forgets its own history.

When the curious case of the ex-immigration building was gradually revealed to the public, Pradaningrum was not in Indonesia. She was studying in the Netherlands. When she returned to Jakarta in 2007, she began to track down all information about the case.

Understandably, in 2003 many people were upset about the restoration process that had shifted the role of the public competition to the margins. The governments managed to deal with these protests. What remained was the hope that there would be another public competition regarding the future design of the building, which should naturally be in line with the use proposed by the winner of the first competition; i.e. as a public building. The people’s wound was still raw when it was revealed in 2008 that the building was going to house an exclusive club owned by an international franchise chain, the Buddha Bar. Clearly, this was not the people’s idea about a public building. The issues debated in the mass media and in a range of discussion forums became out of control. There were protests coming from some Buddhists who found the name of the bar insulting. There were also political gossips related to the case. These debates, according to Pradaningrum, missed the real issue: that a heritage building, although it could be managed by a private company, should be used for the interest of the general public. Many of the mass media, however, have been more interested in publishing about the sensational protests and therefore forget about the real issue. During this chaos, Pradaningrum has often had to fight alone in reporting about the case.

On February 10, 2010, at noon, Pradaningrum revealed the case to Karbon journal, dissecting the case down to its important conclusion about the kind of public space that should be provided at the building—a humbler space that should be used for the interest of the general public instead of providing a space for only an elite group of people to enjoy music at the bar, as is the case today.


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When did you become interested in the case?
In 1999, with the inception of Warta Kota, the newspaper where I work. It began with an issue about the looting that took place at an “old house” in Menteng, which turned out to be the former Immigration Office of Central Jakarta. The edifice was listed as a heritage object, which meant that it belonged to the government (or under the Museums Office at the time), although it could be managed by a private company. Actually, everyone can manage a heritage building, but its use should remain public. The same is true for this building. There was no clear information as to the date when it first housed the Immigration Office of Central Jakarta, but it was clear that it was abandoned in 1997. I managed to collect an extensive documentation regarding the physical conditions of the building when it was being sold to Tommy Soeharto and about the looting.

Do other mass media also report about this case extensively?
No, and that’s why I feel so tired working on my own. This is also true for similar outrageous cases such as the Candranaya building, the Old Town, or Hermes. Just try to find reports about them. If I were to disappear, perhaps no one would still report about heritage buildings.

If a heritage object must not be sold, does it mean that, actually, the government did not have to buy the building back?
Yes. Some say that the government should just seize it back. It was said, however, that Tommy Soeharto refused to hand it back, and I heard that they actually had asked more than what the government eventually paid them.

What about the public competition about the building’s use?
In 2003, there was the talk that the building should be returned to the government. This was followed by a public competition for its future use. The competition took place in 2003, too. After we had the three winners, it was clear that there was a clear scheme for the building, as the three winning proposals all said more or less the same thing, which was to make the building a public space again. Then the physical restoration proceeded, and at the time I had to study abroad, although I still followed the case from afar.

The competition was held while waiting for the confirmation about the available funds of 28 billion rupiahs to buy back the building, and also about the funds for the restoration. It was expected that when the contest was done, the process would have been concluded and the result of the competition could immediately be implemented. In 2003, it was promised that the future use of the building would be based on the ideas of the three winners of the competition, although there would inevitably be adaptations here and there.

There were a lot of problems during the restoration itself; from the first contractor’s being dismissed because he did not understand how to restore an old building, and then a new architect, Arya Abieta, was appointed. You must know that I have found out many of the looted objects from the former immigration office had been salvaged as someone bought them from the looters. There were complaints from many parties when the restoration process was taking place. First of all, the original elements from the building, such as the looted frames and stained glass, owned by this “buyer-savior”, were not returned although we had found out about this owner. Second, there was an additional building at the back, functioning as a kitchen.[1] Albeit with all these complaints, the architect’s restoration plan still proceeded. At this point, the complaints were about architectural styles, involving architects who were purportedly experts in conservations. I think, the actions taken, which ignored the original architectural elements, were clearly violations of the fundamental standards of heritage restoration.

A research conducted by Tarumanagara University regarding the restoration concluded that many elements had been replaced with copies that were not of good quality. The door and window handles, for example, were replaced by modern-style handles. The BPPI (The Agency of Indonesian Heritage Preservation) at the Office of Restoration, Tarumanagara University, has presented such facts. The issue of door handles might seem minor, but those in the know would understand that this constitutes an ill-treatment of a heritage building. When a class-A heritage building is treated in such a way, I think either the classification or the one committing the ill-treatment is wrong. It is in any case legitimate to change the building’s classification. To this day, however, I still use the existing classification as the standard to judge its conditions.


Why did the physical restoration take place at the same time with the competition about the future use of the building?
As a rule, the competition for the future use of the building should take place first. The physical restoration should only take place after the future use of the building has been determined.

What was the use of the competition, then, if the physical restoration proceeded without heeding the results of the competition?
Well, what else? The competition was considered as an adequate step to include the public and the public aspirations in the process.

When did you first hear about the plan for Buddha Bar?
In 2007, when there was the plan to open Buddha Bar at the building, I just returned from the Netherlands. After it was opened, I tested the legitimacy and general understanding about the ‘public space’ as had been promised for the building, by trying to take pictures of the building and observing the area around it. The security officers immediately escorted me out. My reasons for taking the pictures—i.e. that I was a journalist—were ignored. Peculiarly enough, when I confronted the big bosses of Buddha Bar with this issue, they insisted that taking pictures of the building was not banned at all.

I then presented the fact that none of the winners of the previous competition proposed the idea of using the place as an entertainment venue like Buddha Bar. The response I got was again related to financial problems. Financial problems, however, should not be an excuse to make the understanding of the “public” become so restricted. It did not add up, anyway. Buddha Bar rented the place for five years at four billion rupiahs. We could calculate how small the monthly rental price for the building would be [this would mean that the yearly rental price was Rp800 million, or less than Rp67 million per month—editor’s note]. The answer showed that there was something wrong with the management of the building.

The authority still tried to deny the fact, stating that what we have there today is already a public space. I asked them again, “What do you see as ‘public’, then? Can we consider a small group of people as ‘public’?” Naturally, they could not answer. Neither could they answer the important question regarding the results of the previous public competition; where did these end up.

The strategy taken by the authority to respond to such issues is to recognize the existence of the gallery in the building. It was only a very small gallery, though; situated at the front and created only to appease the public and comply with the requirements.

Then there were further protests. The first one was about the green area that should have been maintained under the railway, but instead was transformed into a parking lot for Buddha Bar.[2] The second one caught greater public attention and was about the complaint from Buddhists regarding the use of the name ‘Buddha.’ At the time, I did not discuss this further because this was outside my field of expertise. What I want to discuss is the fact that to enter Buddha Bar, one needs quite a lot of money, as this is not a cheap place. To make it worse, there is a dress code. People who dress like I do, for example, are clearly not allowed to enter the place. Ha-ha!


What is the impact of Buddha Bar for the building?
The point is, with the existence of Buddha Bar, what we have now at the former Immigration Office cannot be considered as constituting a practice of restoration; instead, this amounts to an adaptive re-use and an expansion of the building. This is contrary to the initial agreement regarding the restoration, which had strictly intended to restore the building to its original state.

I need to emphasize again that there are two issues I’m concerned about here. The first one is the existence of the additional building. Why did we choose to use the building to house an activity that required an additional structure? Second, the public funds that had been used to hold the competition (which amounted to around 300 millions) became futile because the results of the competition were not used at all. Then, still regarding the public funds, the actions to buy back the building (at around 28 billion rupiahs) and to restore the building had used tax-payers’ money.


How do you explain the four billion rental price that Buddha Bar must pay?
The agreement stated that the four billion rupiah covered only the rental price, while the maintenance and upkeep would be the responsibility of Buddha Bar management. They have to take care of the whole building although they do not use it all. This is the responsibility of the tenant. The four billion rupiah should actually be a net revenue for the government.

Let’s just see, though, when the regional agency controls the place. Is the real condition in line with how it has been ideally envisioned? That big Buddha sculpture in the middle of the room, for example. Can you imagine the damage that has been done to the building to meet the franchise requirements?


Is this true that Reni Sutiyoso, daughter of the then-governor Sutiyoso, was the one who first came up with the idea of opening Buddha Bar there? If it had been clear from the start that the conversion would create such polemics, why would they insist on using this building?
Actually they, Reni Sutiyoso and Puan Maharani [daughter of the ex-President Megawati Soekarnoputri—editor’s note] are only representatives. I think perhaps they chose to use the building because of the prestigious location and the cheap rental. Politically, this also reveals the ineffectiveness of Fauzi Bowo, who initially had fully supported the competition process to determine the building’s future use. At the time, when he was still a vice governor and not as powerless as he is today, he was the only one we could talk to about such issues. He understood why we must conserve our heritage buildings. When he was still a vice governor, I believed that if he was elected as a governor, Jakarta would be all right. I was therefore surprised when the case of this former Immigration Office building was revealed.

The religious protests about Buddha Bar actually showed how politically-charged the issue has become. This was also evident in the case when the criticism about the ex-immigration building was responded with another criticism against Hartati Murdaya, a Menteng resident who had installed an awning at her front yard.[3] I doubt Reni Sutiyoso’s and Puan Maharani’s ability to employ such a strategy. I also received several calls, asking me to criticize such an insignificant case of the installment of an awning, which is nothing compared to the transformation of the ex-Immigration Office into Buddha Bar. I even received calls from well-known architects.

I think the case is actually a game among shrewd business people who are fighting for power. I also come to the conclusion that it is not only Reni Sutiyoso and Puan Maharani who are involved here. Had they been the ones in power, I think when they received harsh criticism regarding the use of the name ‘Buddha’ in the bar’s name; they would immediately change the name.

I thus concluded that our public space, our heritage building that had been bought and renovated using tax-payers’ money, amounts to a mere game. Perhaps those involved do not worry about returning their capitals. Perhaps this has to do with money laundering. Who knows?

The installment of an awning by Murdaya, which had been so exaggerated, confirmed my belief about how politically-charged this all is. The issue was extended to the debates about the damage suffered by Menteng Garden Town so far.

I choose to dissect this case and came to the conclusion that this is about the betrayal of public trust. I personally hope that the building will be used for the public, in line with the results of the open competition. It is true that the ideas were still raw and needed further modifications, but what we have today is so far removed from the results of the competition. It is not an adaptation, but instead is a betrayal.


What is the ideal use for the venue according to you?
Something that is not far removed from the results of the open competition. Perhaps we can eat the traditional meals of the past there, for example. Perhaps it would be a place where people can find books about the architectural history of Indonesia, the history of Batavia; so they can go there rather than to the National Library or even to the Netherlands to read such books. We can screen movies about old Batavia, about the conditions of the Kunstkring, for example. We could hold discussions there about anything, about Menteng and heritage objects. We can do many things there.

So you envision a place that would cater to public needs?
Certainly. We can hold public meetings there, for example, as Menteng is still a conservation area—although we might begin to wonder whether this is still necessary, as everything had been ruined anyway.

That is what I imagine it would be. We can hold book-launching events, perhaps books about Menteng, or we can have discussions about the culture of the Betawi people.


In this ideal condition that you imagine, who would manage the programs at the venue?
The best facilitator should be the government, who can then appoint another manager. This was the reason why I disagreed with the idea to hold exhibitions managed by the Jakarta Arts Council. It would be better for the gallery at the ex-Immigration Office to present archival and historical works. There can be exhibitions of pictures of the Old Town over the last ten years, the history of trains, or pictures from the time of the East Indies, for example. That would be more fitting and meaningful for the place.

The Cultural and Tourism Agency of the Regional Government of Jakarta can form a certain board of managers. But this would be difficult to achieve if the government has no idea about what a public space actually is. A public space is a place where people can gather and do anything.


Would this be educational in nature?
Yes, there should be an educational aspect to it. The original building was for the Arts Circle, the kunstkring. If we want to return it to the original function, we should not diverge too far from it, shouldn’t we? We can host simple events there, but ones that make people re-think about their relationship with the city and its history, through novels, short stories, or paintings, for example. If we present works of contemporary art there, that would not be fitting. We can make a contemporary art gallery somewhere else for that need.

I’ve been following the case since 1999 on to the first phase of restoration. I question why we should have the competition in the first place. There was the impression that the competition was held only to help the government gain some public legitimacy. But what we have now is Buddha Bar… and hasn’t it all involved tax-payers’ money, from the action to buy back the building, the competition itself, and the first phase of the restoration? Why do we use public funds for commercial purposes?


What is the linkage between this heritage building with the Old Town?
This ex-Immigration Office building should have served as a pilot project for heritage management, how to re-use old buildings, restore it, and use it for the public, as promised. The building could have served as a reference, a case about good management practices. We should have been able to learn from the management process at that building and adapt it for greater purposes.

With the current condition and the five-year contract of Buddha Bar, what can we do while we wait for the contract to end?
Will Buddha Bar be allowed to extend the contract? I don’t know. But we can generate public pressure. This is do-able, and is the more important aspect of the case. If we keep on looking back on what has happened, we’ll have headaches. In the future, however, before there is the idea to extend the contract, there should be a public pressure to return the building’s function to serve public needs.

We should trust the experts to do this, not the ones who claim to be experts but have violated restoration standards. There are young architects with greater sophistication and idealism. At Tarumanagara University, for example, we have a restoration division managed by Mrs. Naniek [Dr. Ir. Naniek Widayati Proyomarsono—editor’s note], a graduate of architecture, archeology, and heritage conservation studies. I always refer to her as my resource person.


How do we create public pressure?
We should present our case to the government, starting today. We should have a clear proposal and scheme for the future use of the building, and we should establish this along with the concerned public. I believe many people would want to be involved in this process. We should start talking about the future, and the future we’re talking about is 2013. Again, this is because everything should be returned to the public, the public should regain control, because the process has used public funds.


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Let us first forget your personal preferences regarding the question of “which one is the better use; the previous one, or the current one?” Please also forget about the burden of social and economic classification, as might be revealed by your choice of place for your rendezvous. This interview reveals how there has been a fundamental violation in the process to re-use the former Immigration Office of Central Jakarta. We as citizens play a role in letting this case happen. It was this same reason—i.e. ignorance and managerial ineptitude—that has made other similar cases occur, for example what happened at the ex-Banteng cinema, followed by the ex-Surya and Garuda cinemas, just recently in the city of Pangkalpinang.[4] Observing these cases, it would transpire that the strategy that we employ has been ineffective as we try to demand our rights, and exercise our obligations regarding our cultural heritage.

There will be further questions, as Pradaningrum has importantly mentioned: What can we, citizens, do in the future? How do we treat heritage buildings that document the development in a certain era? What kind of benefits that such historical records bring to us, the citizens? Furthermore, if we demand a venue to be a public space, do we actually understand what ‘public’ actually means, and its consequences and impacts on the urban spaces? What is it that we actually demand? If we cannot answer these questions, then perhaps it is not only the fault of our unconcerned government who does not know, and much less cares about, what ‘citizen’ or ‘public’ actually means. Perhaps they are actually working to serve the public who has no idea about their rights and obligations; or worse: the public who has wrongly interpreted what ‘public’ actually means.




PRADANINGRUM MIJARTO was born in Yogyakarta before she was brought to Jakarta. She became a journalist in Warta Kota daily because of her interests in the urban issues, especially in the urban history and planning. A graduate of the International Relation study at the Parahyangan Catholic University, Bandung, she then continued her study about Arts and Heritage: Policy, Management and Education at Maastricht University, The Netherlands. The astronomy-enthusiast now manages the column of the old town tourism at the Warta Kota daily and the “kota toea” tourism website, Wisata Kota Toea.

FARID RAKUN and ARDI YUNANTO are editors of the Karbon journal.