Choreographed Knowledges

What do you want to be when you grow up? Starting from childhood, we are taught to answer this question with a particular profession: A doctor, an astronaut, a teacher, a soldier, a police(wo)man, a painter, etc. This shows that humans are workers. If you are a doctor, wherever you will go, people will ask you about their health. Our work has an affect on our roles in our social lives. In fact, what do we accomplish by working? Does your job match your ideals? How do you choose the path of education you will travel? Does education limit or expand your choice of occupation? What is the attitude of the state towards education and employment to guarantees the continuity and welfare of the lives of its people?

This page contains a growing timeline developed with and for Julia Sarisetiati's research and work on, around, and with migrant workers from Indonesia–individually, collectively, collaboratively, cooperatively, and a mixture of it all. This timeline is developed with Ary 'Jimged' Sendy, Grace Samboh, Julia Sarisetiati, Rachel K. Surijata, Ruhaeni Intan, with contributions from JJ Rizal. Written in bahasa Indonesia, English translation is by Akmalia Rizqita “Chita”.

This timeline traces how education became a tool: To sort bodies, train workers, pacify unrest, domesticate desire. It’s about the shifting techniques of governance (be it colonial or of equals) that taught people what they were allowed to become. But it’s also about refusal—about the skills that leak out of textbooks, the rituals that resist syllabi, the know-how passed between hands. What appears as “policy” in one entry might reappear as exile in another.

The timeline carries weight—physically, textually, structurally. To read it, you might have to crouch, turn, walk sideways. That movement echoes the entries themselves: where bodies are bent by state agendas, where migrant workers rehearse for futures not entirely their own. This choreography of adaptation—of being made compatible—is one of the timeline’s deepest concerns. It invites you to notice not just what you learned, but how, and why, how much, and at what cost.

This timeline is unfinished—and never meant to be. It follows chronological time, yes. But you’re free to follow your own sequence. Start wherever you like. In order or out of it. Three entries might be enough to feel the pulse—how migration, schooling, and labor constellate through laws, loopholes, and loss. Some pieces will feel familiar. Others might press at memories you forgot were yours. Shall we?

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1546, 1602–1800

From Ternate to Batavia: Between the cross, the sword, and the pen

In 1546, Francis Xavier arrived in Ternate, leading a Jesuit mission to establish seminaries as instruments for spreading the Catholic faith. The schools in Ternate and Solor were even considered more advanced than those in Goa, which at the time was the centre of Portuguese power in Asia. A century before the arrival of the Dutch, Portuguese merchants had already settled in eastern regions of nusantara, bringing missionaries who saw education as a crucial part of both their spiritual and political missions.

In 1596, the first Dutch fleet landed in Banten. Officially established in 1602, the Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie (VOC) took over the trade routes, inheriting—and modifying—the Portuguese approach. As the world’s first multinational corporation, with the authority to wage war, mint currency, and forge treaties, the VOC monopolised trade across Asia and supported Christian missionaries such as the Nederlands Zendelingen Genootschap (NZG). Christian schools were first established in Ambon and Banda, later expanding to Batavia, funded by the VOC instead of the Dutch government—true to their motto: Gold, Gospel, Glory.

Meanwhile, Islamic education had long been present throughout the nusantara archipelago, focusing on reading, writing, and arithmetic in Malay—the everyday language of trade. These layers of education laid the foundation for knowledge systems that would later evolve and intertwine within the history of education and labour in Indonesia.

1680

From the palace to villages: Traces of education without schools

In the Maluku palace, daughters of the kolano were nurtured through home teaching: reading, writing, wood carving, embroidery, spinning yarn, and weaving. All of it took place within the domestic realm—which also served as a space for inheriting cosmology, social status, and ancestral symbols. It was there that values and skills were passed down—without schoolbooks.

Meanwhile, in South Sulawesi, local communities preserved their histories through elders and traditional storytellers. Stories of their origins, rituals, and agricultural patterns were transmitted through tales and chants, from one generation to the next. Even the smallest villages carried historical traces and traditions, carefully safeguarded by elders—evidence that identity and knowledge did not rely on the state school system.

As noted by Barbara Watson and Leonard Andaya, systems of skill-based and ethical education existed long before formal schooling. Teaching took shape through palace tales and village rituals alike—embedded in the everyday lives of the community.

1769, 1798, & 1799

Educating in the name of ruling: Population, production, and the politics of education

In 1798, Thomas Robert Malthus warned that uncontrolled population growth would surpass the Earth’s capacity to provide food. His theory influenced population and education policies in many nations. In authoritarian regimes, it was used to justify strict birth control, while democratic nations used it to promote sex education, reproductive health services, and introduce planned parenthood. In both approaches, education was positioned as an instrument to stabilise the population and prevent poverty.

Globally, the Industrial Revolution and Green Revolution reinforced dependence on skilled labour. The invention of the steam engine (1769) and the use of fossil energy from the late 18th century spurred colonialism and the reorganisation of labour in the Dutch East Indies to serve the interests of plantations and mining. Malthus’ idea gained traction amidst the production boom and urban migration triggered by the Industrial Revolution, which drastically reshaped social structures. In the 20th century, the Green Revolution transformed agriculture in Indonesia: mechanisation, surplus rural labour, and migration to cities or abroad became widespread. Education, in this context, was not aimed at liberating the people but rather at moulding them to meet the demands of production and social stability .

Following the dissolution of the VOC (1799) and the establishment of direct colonial rule, the education that was managed by churches such as the NZG, was taken over by the colonial government. Instead of fostering intellectual development, schools were designed to produce low-skilled labourers. Education became part of a framework of social control and population management, a legacy that persists to this day.

Nevertheless, various forms of community-based education continued to grow outside of the nation’s control. Surau (small Islamic prayer houses and learning centres), pesantren (traditional Islamic boarding schools), and people’s reading houses preserved knowledge that are rooted in spiritual values, local languages, and communal solidarities. In Minangkabau, surau even evolved into centres of education reform from as early as the 19th century, long before the establishment of political schools. These routes show that education was not always top-down—it could also emerge from the ground up, as a response to social pressures and colonialism.