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Sitting in his office, West Jakarta Mayor Djoko Ramadhan seemed overwhelmed by the charts and graphics flashing before his eyes on a projector screen during a recent briefing on historic preservation. Maybe he is a glutton for punishment, but Djoko chairs such sessions every two weeks with his staff, urban planners, conservation activists and other stakeholders. The method behind the marathon meetings is to vet and approve the latest master plan aimed at revitalizing Kota Tua. During these meetings, dozens of khaki-clad civil servants pack into a conference room and answer questions barked out by Djoko, a laser pointer in his hand, who takes a special interest because most of the Kota district is under the administration of West Jakarta. Problems related to the latest master plan from the Jakarta Governor’s Office — the ninth  since 1991 — emerge one by one. Staffers from the city transportation office raise the issue of a lack of parking spaces and the need to ease traffic congestion in Kota Tua. A subdistrict chief mentions the difficulties in securing the area from thugs, homeless people and buskers. Local building owners complain about land disputes, pollution and crime. Just when it seems everyone has had enough for the day, a staffer from the public works office stands  and reveals that her section, which is undergoing an organizational restructuring, has earmarked Rp 66 billion ($5.5 million) in the annual budget to clean up the foul-smelling Kali Besar, the main canal in the old quarter. “What?! Who said anything about cleaning up the river? Why did no one tell me about it?” Djoko asks, frowning. “Postpone it, please, don’t waste any money. It’s not time yet to clean the river.” So when will it be the time? Not just to clean the stagnant, foul-smelling river, but to finally do something to preserve and revitalize old Batavia, a potential world-class attraction and living historic monument? Having been mayor for only nine months, Djoko still has the idealistic drive to resurrect Old Town and its environs, whose grand 18th century colonial-style buildings, newer art deco structures, a 16th century Chinese temple, old mosques and Moorish houses are a testament to Jakarta’s rich history. But such visions have come and gone with other city officials once they see the magnitude of the task. Still Standing Once the center of Java’s economic and political universe, successive Indonesian administrations gave up on Old Town more than a half century ago, moving Jakarta’s development south. In recent decades, Kota has lagged behind as the southern corridor sprouted tall buildings, posh subdivisions and lavish shopping malls. While the former “Queen of the East” is now plagued by air and water pollution, traffic congestion, and drainage problems, there is some virtue to neglect. True, most of the historic buildings are abandoned and decaying, some inhabited by squatters who live in fear of street thugs, but they are standing. In other cities in Asia, the wrecking ball has long cleared away most historic architecture. The struggle is how to turn what is left of old Batavia to modern Jakarta’s advantage. Jakarta Governor Fauzi Bowo is trying to be the first city leader since the late Ali Sadikin in the 1970s to make use of Jakarta’s past. He carried the latest revitalization master plan over from the last administration, when he was deputy governor, and activists say he’s committed to pulling it off despite continuing skepticism. In reference to past efforts, Fauzi is plain: “It seems like we got stuck,” he told the Jakarta Globe in an exclusive interview. “I think all Jakartans should be proud to have this heritage. We cannot leave it the way it is. “All of us should have the obligation and responsibility to make this urban heritage our asset, an interesting object to be visited. Not only for tourism at large, but those interested in the history of Jakarta.” Fauzi clearly has a convert in Djoko, who is a kindred spirit of sorts. “I think this time will be different because both Djoko and Fauzi are engineers,” whispered one of Djoko’s subordinates during the recent briefing. The two officials should understand the task —  they have degrees in civil engineering and urban planning, respectively, and are now in a position to make a real policy to save Kota Tua. Soedarmadji “Aji” Damais, a museum and culture expert, was the brains behind the successful effort to save Taman Fatahillah in the 1970s, and every city administration during the past 30 years or more has sought his advice consulted him on revitalizing the rest of the historic district. He has seen a lot of talk and he does not expect miracles. “Every governor is interested [in the revitalization]. They always come to me and it becomes repetitive,” he said. “There are at least 10 master plans, but no implementation.” It all boils down to a planning problem, Aji says, because Indonesia lacks sufficient skills to get the job done right. “We did a great job in the 1970s when we developed the Old Town and built museums there,” he said of the rehabilitation of the old square at the heart of Kota Tua. “But it was not enough to go on, as human resources were lacking. Nobody had a clue about how to start building hotels, how to manage traffic and so on.” While the current plan envisions Kota as a world-class tourist attraction and local entertainment center, Kota survived as an economic hub in the 1980s and 1990s mainly because of cheap electronic goods. Marco Kusumawijaya, an urban planner and chairman of the Jakarta Arts Council, said in those days people were willing to fight the traffic all the way to Kota to find good food and gadgets. That lure is no longer sufficient to keep the area going. “Now, there are many competitors in other parts of the city,” he said. “And with the congestion and lack of infrastructure, not that many people come here anymore. Businesses also moved to other areas.” Translating Plans into Action Another problem, said Ade Tinamei, an urban designer from the Center for Urban Design Studies in Bandung, is that no one has been able to translate the numerous studies and master plans into an actionable program. “There have been no strategic steps, focus, coordination … Basically, a lack of good urban management,” she said. In 2007, for example, a team appointed by former Governor Sutiyoso and led by Bank Indonesia Deputy Governor Miranda Goeltom started a renovation project in Taman Fatahillah, the heart of the district and the only area that has undergone any serious restoration. The square was closed to traffic; jackhammers tore up the old pavement, raised the height of the square and installed aesthetically-pleasing cobblestones, drainage systems and ground lighting at a cost of $5 million. But motorcycles that illegally drive through the square have since smashed up some of the lights, and the new pavement, which is somewhat elevated, blocks the doors of some historic buildings adjacent to the square, making it impossible for their owners and residents to get inside. (The building owners are considering filing a lawsuit against the city administration.) Garbage bins, signs and street art in the form of stone balls surrounding the square, installed with support from local activists, were stolen one by one, with only a few of these touches remaining. Building owners, in particular, are upset about the failed makeover. “The renovation team never consulted us. They installed the cobblestone until it touched up against our buildings,” said Jacky, chairman of the Old City Building Owners Association. “We have protested to both the consultant of the project and the city administration, but they ended up blaming each other.” When heavy rains come, water seeps into the buildings due to the elevated position of the street and the fact that there are no gutters, which has forced building owners to install pumps to get the water out, Jacky said. “The team also planted coconut trees, and they covered the buildings so that the windows cannot be opened,” said Ella Ubaidi, a local building owner and co-founder of Jakarta Old Town Kotaku, a seven-member committee that is pushing the government to revive the area.  “One company even moved because of the passing traffic and the mistakes in the renovation,” she said, as she walked through the square recently. And those are only half the problems. Local building owners such as Ubaidi, who bought a dilapidated, 19th century, 400-square meter shop house with trees growing in the middle of it, are refusing to renovate their properties until the city administration publicly commits to a comprehensive revitalization program. “To make this area lively again, I think people should be lured to live here,” she said. “I would live here, but not with this crazy traffic and pollution.” Lacking Incentives Bureaucratic red tape is also a major obstacle to the conservation and revitalization of Kota Tua, say owners who have dealt with the system.  First, the owner must go to the city planning office and inform them about the particulars of their historic building. The office then determines whether the building is Category A (cannot be touched), Category B (the facade cannot be changed) or Category C (the structure can be rebuilt). “The office decides what to do. And then there is also the transfer of development rights. The system is not flexible,” Ubaidi said. “The laws and the gubernatorial decree on the area are also not detailed; they only state that this is a preservation area.” Kota Tua’s preservation status has also sent land and development prices in the area through the roof. Renovating an historic home can cost Rp 8 million ($696) per square meter — four times higher than building a new house — and even more for larger buildings. There are also no tax breaks for the owners of heritage buildings, a key incentive of many successful international historic renovations. “There are opportunities to reuse the buildings for new activities. The problems are, the government does not have enough money, owners are not given incentives, and regulations are insufficient and contradictory,” Kusumawijaya said. “The Kota area needs investment, but who will invest if the area is too chaotic?” Numerous urban planners have proposed changes to the area, he said, but the city has never made it a priority. In addition, there are 22 historic buildings owned by the central government around Taman Fatahillah that sit empty in a potentially prime business location because of government restrictions on using them for commercial purposes and limits on how long they can be leased out to private investors. “For the last 30 years, people have been tinkering, but it will not go far — stop the piecemeal projects,” Kusumawijaya said. “There has to be a special team with the authority and capacity to make plans and create a special law and regulations. And this team should be overseen by a board. We have to accept the reality that this is a special area.” The problem is that the city has never seen Old Town as anything different from other parts of Jakarta. For example, the tax rate for building renovation or construction in the Kota Tua area is Rp 4 million per square meter — the same as in the Sudirman Central Business District.  However, Ro King, chairwoman of the Indonesian Heritage Society, said that simply blaming the city administration — which has a limited budget and numerous other priorities like clean water, traffic management and education — was a cop-out. One solution, she said, would be to have the central government give tax breaks to corporations and individuals who make donations to conservation projects, and to make it easier for nongovernmental organizations to accept them. “There is no structure in place to charge people or ask for donations,” she said. “There aren’t many precedents of giving to historic preservation. With people still nervous about giving money to a foundation, there should be professional managers to oversee donations.” While the right plans and strategies are still being debated in the halls of the West Jakarta Mayor’s office, many conservationists have warned that the clock is ticking as buildings decay further and people and businesses flee the area. At stake is the heart of a unique old city. Get it right, and tourists and locals will flock to admire the old buildings, dine in renovated surroundings and stay in nearby hotels and apartments that would spring up to support the interest in a neighborhood like no other.  But do nothing — or, worse, get it wrong — and Kota Tua could simply decay to dust. That process is already under way. Photo: 'I would live here, but not with this crazy traffic and pollution.' Campaigner Ella Ubaldi bought a rundown 19th century shophouse, but won't renovate it until the city commits to a coherent revitilization plan. (Afriadi Hikmal, JG)