Last weekend, I found myself at the National Museum, idly wandering through ancient artifacts and soaking in the quiet charm of history. It was there that I bumped into a prominent writer I had met a few times before at literary events. He was all smiles and quick wit, the kind of person who could make any topic captivating. Somehow, our conversation veered into an unexpected direction: pederasty. I hadn't given much thought to it before, but his words planted a seed of curiosity.
"It still exists, you know," he said, gesturing dramatically with his hands. "In Indonesia. Though we don't call it that."
I tilted my head, unsure whether to laugh or ask questions. He leaned in conspiratorially and explained that the gemblak practice, a relic of traditional Javanese culture, bore striking similarities to the structured relationships of ancient Greece. His tone was confident, the kind of confidence that made me want to fact-check him later.
"First, let's start with Greece," he began, diving headlong into history. He spoke of pederasty as a social institution in ancient Athens and other city-states. It wasn't just about companionship; it was also mentorship. A bond formed between an older man, the erastes, and a younger boy, the eromenos. The elder partner provided guidance, education, and sometimes military training, while the younger learnt societal expectations and civic virtues. "But," he added with a mischievous grin, "there was often an erotic element. That's what made it so controversial, even back then."
He then moved on to Sparta, where the relationships between men and boys weren't as openly discussed but had their own nuances. Spartan boys entered the agoge, a rigorous state-run education and military training system, at a young age. They lived communally, trained together, and were mentored by older warriors. These bonds, the writer argued, were key to fostering the famed Spartan loyalty and unity. "Imagine being trained to fight alongside someone you deeply trust, maybe even love. You'd die for them without question." He referenced the Sacred Band of Thebes, an elite fighting unit of paired male lovers, as an extreme example of how emotional connections were believed to enhance military cohesion.
I hesitated. "But isn't the nature of those relationships in Sparta still debated? Scholars can't seem to agree on whether there was an erotic component."
He rolled his eyes, playfully dismissing my interruption. "Oh, scholarly debates," he teased. "They never let us have fun with history."
He steered the conversation back to Indonesia, comparing the gemblak to pederasty. "The gemblak weren't just pretty boys hanging around the warok," he said, referencing the spiritual leaders of the Reog Ponorogo tradition. "They were integral to the performance, often playing female roles in the dances. Their bond with the warok was about companionship and mentorship, just like in Greece."
He elaborated on the cultural context of the gemblak, describing the Reog Ponorogo as a traditional Javanese dance performance steeped in mysticism and martial values. The warok, a figure of spiritual and physical power, often chose a gemblak as an apprentice or companion. This relationship was seen as a way to transfer knowledge and maintain the spiritual connection necessary for the warok's practices. However, modern interpretations of the gemblak have been fraught with controversy, particularly regarding the rumored sexual component. "It's not that the locals condemn it," he argued. "But there's a legal framework now that doesn't tolerate anything that could exploit minors."
