Simmering discord has been rising lately between foreigners and Indonesian citizens on the island of Bali, a very strange development the like of which I've not previously seen in my 12 years here.
The problem seems to be a combination of the influx of foreign tourists and immigrants to the island since the lifting of COVID travel restrictions and a decreasing local tolerance for the same. For some reason, many of these post-COVID visitors and guests (and lest we forget, foreign residents are still merely guests here) have come with the idea that they are free to behave in whatever way they choose, not subject to Indonesian law, unmindful of the need for cultural sensitivity.
As always, it is a minority that is causing these problems, but it's a loud, minority, ignoring traffic laws, arguing with police when caught, abusive to those who dare to criticize their behavior, disrespectful of local religious sites and temples, and so on. They are the arrogant, privileged representatives of the contentious poison of the West. And the locals are fed up with them.
To be honest, I don't blame them. It seems that when these folks are not disputing with local authorities, they are bickering with each other, even in the formerly peaceful little community of Sanur. I had previously mentioned here, for example, the outrage among some in the foreign community about the little electric bikes that had been running on the beachfront paths, daily registering their frantic, and wholly unrealistic complaints against foreigners and locals alike who were having too much fun on these little two wheelers.
Well, they finally got their way, along with the ownership of the western oceanfront hotels, and the bikes have been removed by order of the Balinese government, putting an abrupt end to a lucrative little business for the locals, who I am sure are rather more in need of money than are the wealthy tourists.
But Karens must always have a complaint, and so with the victory over the recreational bikes, they moved on to outrage at a new nationwide stress on the need to wear a helmet, shirt, and shoes when driving a motor bike, and to be able to present an actual driver's license and registration document. These commonsense laws seems clearly an infringement on their rights (the right to the ignore the law, I guess). If I don't want to wear a helmet, that's my business! My safety is my own concern, my health is my own concern! Why are you interfering with my freedom?
And the most common excuse? Many of the locals don't wear helmets. I see them all the time without a helmet. Why should I wear a helmet if they don't wear a helmet?
Do you remember when you complained to your mother that you ought to be able to do a particular thing because all your friends were doing it? Of course you do. And do you remember what she said? That's right, she said, If Bobby goes and jumps off a cliff, does that mean you have to follow him?
An Indonesian fellow on the Facebook Sanur community page expressed the same idea in a slightly more contemporary manner. If you pass by a warung and see a bunch of locals eating big plates of steaming shit, does that mean you should rush in and order a plate for yourself? (Unfortunately, this was written in Indonesian and so likely lost on most readers).
Point well taken, by this reader anyway.
Honestly, I have not in twelve years driven my motorbike without a helmet on. Why in the world would I? Do you know that some years ago an Indonesian woman was driving her bike on the small street through the center of Sanur when she got into a minor accident, and yet died instantly when her bike tipped over and her helmet-less head cracked against the concrete curbing?
No, the helmet is not impinging on your freedom, it is protecting your life.
So as the temperature rises, as foreigners snap naked photos of themselves at a holy site, as they rampage through Kuta coming from loud afterhours parties, as they contend with police for doing their job and wail at the unfairness, the local government begins to consider laws restricting the of stay for tourists in Bali, prohibiting the rental of motorbikes to tourists, beefing up deportations, and so on.
When COVID began, an idea was often expressed to the effect that people would begin to reevaluate the way they were living, that the pandemic would give people time to reflect and bring them closer together, and as COVID ended, it was thought that people might rejoin society in a thankful, more communal manner.
Such sanguine imaginings have proven quite misplaced, have they not?
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