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Munir – Human rights defender, brother, husband, father and friend
Jakarta Globe - September 6, 2014
But not much has been reported about his early life – how the skinny boy from Malang, East Java became a legendary activist whose life was synonymous with Indonesia's rights movement.
Munir was born on Dec. 8, 1965. Because of his Middle Eastern heritage, his hair was brown, and cast in sunlight it would cast a yellowish glow, like the color of a ripen corn seed.
His trademark hair, which he shared with one of six siblings, inspired his father Said Salim Thalib to name him Munir – Arabic for "bright" or "shining." "We used to call him 'Uning' because of his yellowish hair," his older sister Annisa said.
Little Uning was very active and didn't like to stay indoors. He was also brave. Despite his small stature, he was standing up to boys much older than he when they picked on his quiet younger brother Jamal, particularly when Uning knew that Jamal didn't do anything wrong.
"He was never afraid to fight if he was right. He always stood up for Jamal. He got that from our mother [Jamilah Umar Thalib]. She always taught us to stand up for the truth," Annisa said.
Farida, Munir's elementary school teacher, remembered Munir as an active boy who had many friends. Despite his size, Munir liked to play soccer or fly kites in empty fields. Almost everyday he returned home with dirt and mud on his school uniform. Aside from his brown hair, Farida also remembered one unique thing about Munir.
"He was never afraid to fight, defending his friends. But he was also honest. He was willing to admit his own mistakes," Farida said.
Farida, who at 60 years old still teaches at Munir's elementary school, said she never expected Munir to be a prominent human rights defender. She also never expected that even many years later Munir still viewed her as his teacher and treated her with much respect. "He even invited me to his wedding," she said.
To this day, Farida said she always tells her students stories about Munir, teaching them that they, too, can accomplish great things and to always stay humble and remember their roots. Munir stayed consistent in defending those who couldn't defend themselves.
An early start
Fifty-seven year-old Tri Hartini, his high school teacher, noted that it was at this stage Munir became critical, always questioning things. "He liked to talk, and he was very critical. At times he chose to sit in the back, pondering, resting his chin on his palm," she said.
Perhaps it was here that he began to realize what he wanted to do in life. In 1985, Munir entered law school at Brawijaya University in Malang, moving away from his family's traditional professions as traders and shopowners.
"He was the only one [in the family] who chose this path," Annisa said. "He said he wanted to help others."
In college Munir had access to an abundance of human rights literature, learning how other countries were dealing with their dark past, how military dictatorship can be toppled. He pondered whether the same could be done in Indonesia.
He chose workers' rights as a topic for his thesis, giving him a view into the lives of thousands of Indonesian laborers who were paid unfairly and had virtually no rights. He noticed how big the welfare gap between laborers and their bosses were and how workers were treated inhumanely.
He felt he needed to do something. In 1989, his senior year, he interned at the Surabaya chapter of the Legal Aid Foundation (LBH), the only hope for justice for millions of poor laborers in East Java.
Even as an intern, he was vocal, actively advocating for victims of union busting, unfair pay, inhumane and hazardous working conditions and unfair dismissals. He was not afraid to criticize those in power and well-connected businessmen.
Activism
By 1990, the year he graduated, "he was already famous at LBH," said Lutfi J. Kurniawan, Munir's junior at Brawijaya law school who eventually formed Malang Corruption Watch. A year later, Munir was entrusted to become the coordinator for LBH Surabaya's Malang outpost.
Lutfi said that despite his reputation, Munir was a very accessible man. He was never reluctant in sharing his knowledge. Lutfi said that even after he graduated Munir helped junior classmates organize one of the biggest student rallies in his university's history.
"[Munir] taught us how to unite the different student bodies, how to organize the masses and how to confront security officials," he said.
Poengky Indarti, the executive director of the Indonesian Human Rights Monitor (Imparsial), remembered the first time she met Munir as a recent graduate applying for LBH Surabaya.
"I initially wanted a post at [LBH's] environment division, but after meeting Munir and saw his work with labor issues and got to know his thinking I moved to the labor division," she said.
Poengky described Munir as a lovable person who liked to tell jokes despite the seriousness of his work and the countless threats he received. In her eyes, Munir was also a great mentor and a passionate lawyer who had genuine empathy for the people he represented.
"Once there was a woman [Munir] represented. She was arrested for killing her husband because she was fed up with her husband constantly beating her. Munir took care of her child for her while she was incarcerated," Poengky said.
"Munir really cared about the people he helped. He was always there for them even if they needed him in the middle of the night. He loved nothing more than spending time with them. He often said he learned more from these people than the many books he read."
Munir's widow Suciwati said her late husband was the type of person who would even risk his life for the people he was fighting for.
One day in 1998, when he had moved to the LBH main office in Central Jakarta, Munir jumped over the building's fence to help a defenseless old laborer who was about to be trampled by a panicking crowd and beaten by security officials after a rally descended into chaos. Munir fractured his hand in the process while the younger and bigger rally participants did nothing to save the old man.
"I felt safe around him. Anyone who was being advocated by him felt the same. Despite his small posture, he was never hesitant about helping and protecting [others]," said Suciwati, who also goes by Suci.
Family man
Suci met her future husband in 1991. At the time she was a worker in Malang involved in a lot of union movements, strikes and rallies. Munir helped her union's advocacy. Noticing Suci's determination, consistency and intelligence, Munir fell in love.
Munir asked for her hand in marriage several times, but she always said no. "There were a lot of things to consider," she said.
Munir had a lot of enemies, and his life was threatened many times. She was afraid of raising children with a man who showed no fear of the powerful people he was fighting against.
But at one point she decided it was the risk she was willing to take to be with the man she loved and shared the same passion and ideology. They were married in 1996 and had two children, Soultan Alif Allende, now 15 years old and Diva Suukyi Larashati, 12.
After being married, it didn't take long before her worries came true. In 2001, as Munir and his family spent their holiday at Munir's parents' house in Batu, Malang someone called at 2 a.m. in the morning. Munir picked up the phone. At the other end of the line was a man saying that Munir must cease criticism of the military. Otherwise he shall receive a bomb package.
When Suci asked who it was, she recalled Munir as casually replying: "Just someone who wants to send a bomb package."
At the time Munir was unraveling the kidnapping of student activists in 1998 by the Army's special forces Kopassus. He was also demonstrating against the deaths of student protesters in a series of rallies surrounding President Suharto's resignation.
Following the phone call, a motorcycle was heard stopping and speeding in front of Munir's parents' house that morning. Munir peeped through the window and spotted a package placed at the front porch. Munir's only reaction was to ask his sleeping mother to move to another bedroom and call the police. He even managed to pass one or two jokes in the process.
But it wasn't a joke. At 7 a.m. the police bomb squad came and destroyed the package. It was filled with explosives.
Munir's sister Annisa said the family was well aware of the risks his brother was facing. Yet, Munir was very open about the many threats he had received.
As a family they were worried, but they also knew how important his struggle was to the country. Munir openly shared stories of his work with his mother, brothers and sisters – Munir's father died when he was about 10 – whenever they got together.
"We got to know Hendropriyono, Prabowo, Wiranto. About Poso, Maluku, Aceh," she said. Annisa was referring to Army generals A.M. Hendropriyono, Prabowo Subianto and Wiranto who Munir accused of gross human rights violations and the places of widespread sectarian conflict and intensive military operations.
The time leading before Munir's death in 2004 remains special for Munir's family. He was preparing for his studies in the Netherlands and had relinquished his duties to successors. He was left with a lot of free time, which he spent with his family, taking them to Malang for the holidays or watching movies alone with his wife.
"He liked action movies. The latest was 'The Day After Tomorrow'," Suci said, adding that the movie's plot about a father going to great lengths to rescue his son resonated with Munir. "He watched it many times."
In the weeks before he boarded the Sept. 6, 2004 flight to the Netherlands – during which he was murdered – Munir spent most of his time at home, playing with his children Alif and Divva.
"Those last moments were precious to us," Suci recounted. "One afternoon, one week before he left, he hugged us and said, 'I have found my heaven'."
[Additional reporting by Nivell Rayda in Jakarta.]
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