Of family , futures and fear in a Balinese ward : Some preliminary thoughts toward a new project

The link between family, fear and women’s bodies has a complicated history in Indonesia, tied to both international aid and economic development—as well as, in more recent years, to consumerism and transnational capital. Yet, if the ‘small happy and prosperous family norm’ is now the aspiration of many young Balinese, this was not always the case. Today advertisements for family planning technology encourage women to overcome fears of discomfort and physical side-effects in order to realize ‘the family of their dreams’. But the fears of earlier days were not so easily allayed—incited by stories of infertility, infection and death resulting from use of the IUD. What do older Balinese remember of the early days of the KB program? How does this compare with the aspirations of younger Balinese as they pursue the pleasures of life in a ‘small family’ and experience its anxieties? This article presents preliminary reflections on a new project exploring how Balinese differing in gender, generation and social class talk about and act on their plans for the future. Given its importance for both state bureaucratic and commercial representations of domestic life, the ideal of the patriarchal nuclear family figures centrally in these reflections.


TV Advert for the Andalan IUD, Broadcast in 2008
Dulu saya juga takut.

Introduction
T his article offers some preliminary reflections on a project that I have recently begun, exploring how Balinese differing in gender, generation and social class talk about and act on their plans for the future-and how articulations of gender, generation and social class may be transformed in the process.The study has taken as its point of departure a collection of recorded -yet more or less informal -conversations in which Balinese reflected on what makes for a good life, how this might be realized and what obstacles may lie in the way.
Given its importance for both state bureaucratic and commercial representations of domestic life, the ideal of the patriarchal nuclear family (see, e.g., Shiraishi 1997) has figured centrally in the formulation of the project.Today the use of medical contraception, and family planning (I.keluarga berencana), is widely associated with 'modernity' (I.kemodérnan) and a progressive outlook that aims to transcend the perceived backwardness of village life (e.g., as kampungan, or tertinggal). 2The television advertisement depicted above exemplifies the commercial articulation of this ideal, bringing together a vision of patriarchal domesticity with hopes for an affluent and secure future (I."Aman 10 tahun"), as afforded by the techno-medical management of women's bodies.
Issues of expense aside, stories of pain and discomfort, and of adverse side-effects from contraception circulate widely among women in Bali, as elsewhere.Accordingly, visits to the clinic, or to the doctor, are often accompanied by apprehension.It is perhaps with this in mind that fear is inoculated (Barthes 1972) in the opening frames of the advertisement.Dressed smartly, if casually, a light-skinned and attractive young woman addresses the viewers directly.Speaking from within an elegant home, she confides that she was once like us: 'Before, I too was afraid' (I.Dulu saya juga takut).But she then goes on to explain that, having consulted the midwife from Andalan,3 it turned out the IUD was small enough to  be held between her fingers.Once cut to size -like the flower she is shown clipping for a vase -'I could hardly feel a thing' (I.saya nyaris tidak merasakan apapun).
The link between family, fear and women's bodies has a complicated history in Indonesia, tied to both international aid and economic development (see Appendix) and, in more recent years, to consumerism and transnational capital.Yet, if the 'small happy and prosperous family norm' is now the aspiration of many young Balinese (I.norma keluarga kecil, bahagia dan sejahtera; see Newland 2001), this was not always the case.The Andalan advertisement encourages women to overcome fears of discomfort, and perhaps physical side-effects, in order to realize 'the family of their dreams' (I.keluarga impian).But the fears of earlier days were not so easily allayed, incited by stories of infertility, infection and death resulting from use of the IUD.As an assemblage of instruments, institutions and procedures, 'the family' at that time was anything but an experience of 'happiness and prosperity'.One of the project's central aims is to explore the transformation of this object of fear into one of desire.What do older Balinese remember of the early days of the KB program?How does this compare with the aspirations of younger Balinese as they pursue the pleasures of life in a 'small family' and experience its anxieties?What new forms of intimacy, embodiment and achievement are characteristic of this ideal?Through what sorts of practices are the requisite virtues cultivated?And what are some of the more important antagonisms that arise as a consequence?
Many of the issues involved are seen to be relatively sensitive, and so not especially easy to discuss casually with a foreign researcher. 4For this reason I have enlisted the assistance of Madé Health Market Innovations describes as 'the largest private family planning program in the world' (http://healthmarketinnovations .org/program/andalan-dkt-indonesia; accessed 2016.06.17).
4 The question is not so much one of modesty or privacy, but rather of tailoring remarks (e.g., 'dumbing down' or simplifying) for my benefit.As one of my primary interests is the style of speaking, and of arguing, such tailoring is clearly an issue.By recording a conversation between Balinese in my absence, I certainly do not mean to suggest that I am getting to the truth of whatever is being discussed-a fortiori as all parties are aware they are being recorded, and for whom.Rather my aim is to get a better sense of how certain Balinese speak to one another, often as in the presence of specific Dani -a young woman with whom I've worked on previous projects -to conduct a series of informal conversations, which she has both recorded and transcribed. 5We have subsequently worked together on refining the transcriptions and discussing their contents, both on our own and with others.As the research progresses I expect to be more directly involved in many of the conversations-in the first instance by following up on these initial recordings.I should add that the project itself has grown out of similar conversations that I have found myself involved in over the past several years while pursuing research on other topics. 6

Two Sets of Conversations
To date we have worked on two sets of conversations recorded in 2013 and 2015 respectively: (i) the first with a group of older women, between the ages of 45 and 75, reflecting on their experience of the family planning program (I. keluarga berencana) as it was introduced in the ward of Batan Nangka (see below) in the 1970s and 80s; (ii) the second with a group of teenagers and young adults discussing their plans for the future, with a special emphasis on their hopes for employment, romance and domestic life, and how they plan to realize these desires.7If the idea of the family is central to the aspirations of many among today's youth, it would appear that its introduction to the older generation was accompanied by the uncertainty and fear that attended many government programs promulgated after the communist purges of 1965-66.
The following discussion draws mainly on a series of conversations with a group of five older women from a single other Balinese.
5 All names of persons and places are pseudonymous, apart from well-known locations in and around the provincial capital of Denpasar (e.g., Abian Kapas).
6 The first of these conversations that I can recall was with Dani herself, when she discussed with great feeling her desire to purchase a home in which she might live 'independently' with her husband and children, away from the natal home where she was about to be married as a jural male, and so heir to her father's line (see Fox forthcoming a).

Richard Fox
Hlm. 213-248 extended family, focusing in particular on their use of language and, for lack of a better phrase, their style of argumentation.8I shall return at the end to make a series of provisional comparisons with the younger cohort, and review a few of what I take to be the more important questions suggested by the comparison.

A Few Lines of Enquiry
The project carries forward a broader interest in what I have been calling styles of practical reasoning.By this I mean, in the first instance, those forms of deliberation through which means and ends are evaluated and decisions to act are taken.But it also includes, more generally, the ways in which people set about embodying, cultivating and contesting shared ideals of agency, community and the common good.The interest in practical reasoning is driven by the idea that a rigorously critical approach to practice would preclude the sort of reification characteristic of prevailing 'practice theory' (e.g., Bourdieu, Giddens and Schatzki, but quite possibly Foucault and Butler, too; see Fox, forthcoming b).One of the project's theoretical aims is to begin rethinking social life in a more dynamic idiom.The question is whether one might formulate a pragmatic approach to argument that avoids reifying practice as an 'object of study'.9 It was with this, and a related set of questions, in mind that I began looking into Balinese desires for the future-now increasingly with an emphasis on argument as a form of thought in motion.Here Balinese representations of human flourishing and collective life might be seen as directed to bringing about -or, alternatively, forestalling -a specified set of events and circumstances.Under this description, articulations of such things as family and belonging, personal transformation and accomplishment, safety and sustenance, would emerge as prospective trajectories heading off into a time yet to come.One advantage to such a mobile metaphor Of family, futures and fear in a Balinese ward ... Hlm.  is that it might be less susceptible to objectification than our more habitual uses of 'society' and 'culture', which inter alia predispose us to hypostatize social transformation as a sequence of stable states.10 On this more radically pragmatic approach, the utterances one encounters in the course of ethnographic conversation may be recognized as contributing to an argument on its way-as a 'project', or a throwing forward, that reworks and transforms precedent, under a given set of circumstances, with an eye to bringing about a particular kind of future.
Taking 'the future' as argument -or as partially constitutive of an argument -raises some difficult questions, not least when it comes to transcribing ethnographic dialogue.The technical challenges alone are 'hellishly difficult', as Fabian put it (1990: 88).And in just a moment I'll have a few words to say about the difficulties I've encountered in trying to come to grips with the recorded conversations in colloquial Balinese.But first, more generally speaking, it is worth pausing briefly to reflect on the way ethnographic transcriptions tend to presuppose the reducibility of utterances to 'what was said'-which, even when not exhaustively equated with an ostensibly 'propositional content', leaves out much -often of great importance -that will have taken place on the occasion.Under what conditions, for instance, is one able to discern and represent those aspects of conversation that Austin (1975) described in terms of illocutionary and perlocutionary force?And, 10 This is an important connection, and perhaps I am moving ahead too quickly.What I wish to say, in short, is that our received critical apparatus is geared to stasis, as exemplified by standard scholarly uses of terms such as society, culture and the subject.These terms -and the lines of questioning they embody -engender a crucial displacement, whereby evanescent events are transformed into things, while the tenuous assemblages they articulate are unduly stabilized as knowable states (e.g., social structures, cultural formations, systems of belief, the discourse on 'x').Social 'change' is accordingly construed as a sequence of such states.And yet, to the extent that 'change' is characterized by movement, it remains inexplicable.For such an episodic account cannot accommodate the processual nature of historical transformation without reducing it to a sequence of bounded moments.Here the problem derives, at least in part, from presupposing what is ultimately a visualist account of knowledge (Fabian 1983;cp. Ong 1958), founded on the hypostatizing tropes of spatiality and distance.My theoretical interest in 'the future' is impelled by a desire to think otherwise.And the analysis of utterances -and of speaking -albeit engendering a potentially misleading textualization, is directed to this end.
recalling the optative character of remarks on the future, to what extent should we take statements of desire as directed to realizing, exemplifying or even dissimulating that very desire?Much of the work carried out by anthropologists and others of an ethnographic bent would be impossible without first transcribing recorded conversations.And yet, if my experience with this new project were anything to go by, there is a very real possibility that the results of transcription are often systematically misleading.For instance, in reviewing the transcripts with Dani, a written sequence of loosely linked clauses often appeared to suggest a degree of incoherence, or uncertainty, that would not have been apparent to participants in the conversation.Similarly, while the appearance of repetition in written form may seem to express reticence, or confusion, even the most cursory review of the corresponding recording has often borne out evidence of a quite different affectsuch as emphasis, urgency or even distress at the thought of the events recounted.These issues would, I think, be pertinent for anyone engaged in research that involves the speech of others.But they seem all the more pressing given my interest -and that of several of my colleagues -in the idea of argument.11

Briefly on Banjar Batan Nangka
The study itself is based in Batan Nangka, a southern Balinese ward in which I have conducted some two years' prior fieldwork.I have elsewhere (Fox 2016) described the community and its environs as follows: Batan Nangka is one of seven wards that make up the 'traditional village' (B.désa pakraman) of Pateluan, itself also a pseudonym.The ward comprises 108 family households (B.kuren; I. keluarga) living in 71 houseyards (B.pakarangan), with a total reported population of around 480 at the time of the 2011 census.In matters of marriage and inheritance Batan Nangka is very generally similar to other southerly Balinese wards as described in the anthropological literature (see, e.g., Geertz andGeertz 1975, Hobart 1979;cp. Korn 1932).Although strictly speaking the banjar is not a territorial designation, the vast majority of Batan Nangka's houseyards occupy a continuous stretch of land measuring approximately 11 hectares.On the south and west, this central concentration of Of family, futures and fear in a Balinese ward ... Hlm.houseyards is bordered by rice fields and dry agricultural land (B.tegal).The easternmost houseyards abut on a ravine through which a river runs from north to south; and the northernmost houseyards (with but a few exceptions) are situated along the southern side of a major road running from the semi-urban village of Adan Palsu in the west (population approximately 5500) to the main thoroughfare of Jalan Raya Kaneraka.The latter runs north to the comparatively rural Administrative Village of Mogbog Gdé, and south toward the provincial capital of Denpasar.The economy of Batan Nangka is mixed, with most households generating a living from a combination of small-scale agriculture, informal labor and salaried work.Although there is a limited number of 'newcomers' (I.penduduk pendatang) residing in the community, the vast majority of those living in Batan Nangka are from extended families that have made their homes there for several generations.Many in the banjar community own and work rice land that is not directly contiguous with the area of Batan Nangka.Others own no rice land at all, having sold it (e.g., to pay debts incurred through gambling or the sponsorship of ceremonial rites) or given it up when moving to a new houseyard (B, ngarangin) without rice land attached to it.

Notes on Language
As one might expect, styles of speaking in Batan Nangka vary along lines of gender, generation and social class, as well as according to circumstance.12These are distinctions I hope to develop further in the course of the research.The interplay between Balinese and Indonesian is, in very general terms, similar to tendencies encountered elsewhere on the island (see Zurbuchen 1984), and beyond (Errington 1998).But the use of Balinese in particular also exhibits certain features that, if not unique, are locally recognized as characteristic of the way people speak in the wider village of Pateluan and the surrounding area.As a preface to examining in some detail an excerpt from one of Dani's conversations, the following sections on language provide some introductory notes on: (a) how otherwise Balinese conversation incorporates Indonesian terms and phrases; (b) local variations on 'standard' Balinese; (c) the importance of pretext and the relativity of reference,  particularly regarding people, places and occasions; and (d) the use of direct speech in recounting past events.These introductory notes are meant to facilitate a close reading of the longer transcript to follow.

Language: Balinese Articulates Indonesian Terms
In casual conversation among the older residents of Batan Nangka, Balinese tends to dominate as the language of articulation, linking together otherwise isolated words and phrases in the national language of Indonesian. 13The following example is taken from the beginning of Dani's first conversation for the project, which she conducted with her mother ('Mémék'), who was in her late 40s at the time.Originally from a beachside tourist town in the south, Mémék moved to Batan Nangka in her early 20s, when she married Dani's father.After high school she earned a certificate in religious education (I.pendidikan agama), which qualifies her to teach at elementary school; but she now runs a warung at the front of the houseyard, and goes to market to sell vegetables several mornings each week.Reported direct speech is in blue; Balinese is in ordinary roman script; Indonesian terms are underlined. 1415
Since… Heny… uh… What year was that?Eighty… two. 152 13 The interplay of Balinese and Indonesian seems rather more complicated among the younger generations.It is also worth mentioning that older men tend to speak Balinese in a manner that is more overtly inflected by Indonesian speech patterns than do women of the same age.
14 Balinese words are transcribed in standard roman script; Indonesian is underlined.Although it is impossible to match up the words in the transcript and gloss on a one-to-one basis, I've tried to specify where each of these registers occurs.Three dots … indicates a pause, or an incomplete sentence.Three dots between brackets […] indicates an elision.Although Mémék is younger than the others from the older cohort, and has undergone more extensive education, the relationship between Indonesian and Balinese in her conversation with Dani reflects more general trends across the initial five conversations, including: The questions and main clauses are mostly phrased in Though not especially evident here, there is also a degree • of register-shifting that occurs according to topic.So, for instance, factual discussion of government programs is more strongly inflected by Indonesian (seemingly both in syntax and diction), while one's experience of these programs is more commonly articulated in Balinese-as is borne out in the extended example below (see section entitled 'Fear and loathing').Albeit evident in conversation with both the  younger and older cohorts, when and how these shifts occur may differ significantly (e.g., according to age etc.).
As one might expect, older people used less Indonesian in otherwise informal Balinese conversation.This tended to come in the form of isolated technical terms (e.g., suntik, pemerintah, klinik) and commonly used phrases (e.g., suntik satu bulan).As with the colloquial Balinese spoken today more generally, Indonesian base words are often employed within an otherwise Balinese morphology (e.g., maperasi [ma-operasi], masuntik, ma-KB; but also akhir-né and soal-né; compare younger generations' use of terms such as ngefésbuk ['to use Facebook'], ngebél ['to ring', or 'call']).In passing it is worth noting a certain affinity with the juxtaposition of linguistic registers in palm-leaf 'how-to' manuals for ceremonial rites, in which Balinese base words are given what appears to be a prestige-lifting Old Javanese inflection, and Old Javanese words may conversely be 'domesticated' by the addition of Balinese affixes.It is also quite common in the extemporized dialogue of Balinese drama, where Indonesian terms are given Balinese affixes and pronunciation, and vice versa.

Language: Very Briefly on Pronunciation
Spoken Balinese varies to some degree from banjar to banjar, though certain differences from 'standard' Balinese are also recognized locally as characteristic of Pateluan and its neighboring villages.Some of the more prominent examples include the following: -ng is often used in place of a final -n; so • kewénténang for standard kewéntenan.
Often the -é ending is pronounced " ĕ ", or even more strongly, • as with the standard pronunciation of a final -a; the vowel may also be drawn out for particular effect (e.g., after a name it may be disparaging-"Kadék-aaa…" "that Kadék…").
Also note that, throughout the transcripts, I have marked /e/ as -é for the vowel that would be marked with a taléng in Balinese script; the unmarked /e/ in my text corresponds to the vowel Of family, futures and fear in a Balinese ward ... Hlm.213-248 marked with a pĕpĕt.

Language: 'Pretext' and the Relativity of Reference
One aspect of otherwise casual conversation that would have been most recognizably affected by my direct involvement was pretextand particularly shared points of reference including people, places and occasions.With regard to people, kinship terms (e.g., 'Wa, 'Dong, Mbok) are used in reference both to oneself and others, often including a direct interlocutor, in ways that are exceedingly difficult to follow for those who are not longstanding members of the community. 16Similarly, directional terms (e.g., dangin, umah madauh) are often used elliptically to denote specific places; and, as others have noted (e.g., Vickers 1991), time is commonly marked with reference to significant events (e.g., births, deaths, otonan, major Ceremonies, ''manis'; as in, 'gas ontonan bli[n]é, 'when your older brother had his otonan ceremony').Insofar as the idea of 'community' may be given a positive critical meaning, it is at least in part constituted by the commonality at once presupposed and reiterated -i.e., expressed and performatively called into beingthrough the ongoing use of these shared points of reference.

Language: Direct Speech
As we saw briefly in the opening exchange between Dani and her mother, direct speech is often employed in the course of recounting past events.This seemed more pronounced among the older cohort, who, perhaps not coincidentally, were also less experienced with 'literate' forms of communication.17Indeed, (1987) study of orality and literacy in Malay is directly pertinent (see below).
Of family, futures and fear in a Balinese ward ... Hlm.As often the case with the others, Wa Tari's use of direct speech was only very briefly marked by the phrase kétoang 'ja, which I glossed very loosely as 'that's what they said' (cp.similar uses of B. abet-né, below). 19Here utterances are quoted as if they will be recognized as reported speech; and usually it seems no special effort is made to attribute the speech to a particular person-as we'll see repeatedly in the more extended excerpt below.

From a Convesation with Wa Céng
The following excerpt is taken from a conversation between Dani and one of her paternal aunts, Wa Céng, who was approximately 58 years old at the time of the recording.Wa Céng never attended school, and claimed not to be able to read or write.
Dani had begun by asking how her aunt had first learned of the KB program, and when she began to use contraception.As with many others of her generation, Wa Céng's story would suggest that her first encounter with KB came uninvited.Some 18 months after the birth of her second child,20 she had experienced an abnormally strong blood flow (I.pendarahan) that continued beyond her menstrual period.So she went to Sanglah Hospital in Denpasar for treatment.There the doctor gave her what was probably a 'D&C', after which he inserted an IUD. 21Wa Céng recalled that she had begun having pains in her lower abdomen (B.sisik) less than a month after the procedure, and so hitched a ride (B.numpang) to see a doctor in Abian Kapas.22She explained that she could have been treated by a midwife (I.bidan) at the local Puskesmas, but chose to take the longer trip in order to see the doctor.The following excerpt recalls her experience in Abian Kapas.
Having discussed details of the story with other members of the family, and checking them against the birthdates of her children, I believe these events probably took place sometime in 1978-79.It should also be noted that some of what Wa Céng said can only be worked out with reference to later parts of the conversation-for instance, that it was a book (lines 34-5) that the two nurses were looking through, when, earlier (line 28-9), she had said they were 'searching' ( The story Wa Céng told emphasizes her vulnerability before an opaque bureaucracy-a distant power that was nonetheless capable of sustaining an invasive grip on her body.To review briefly, she had experienced an abnormally strong blood-flow lasting beyond her usual menstrual period roughly 18 months after the birth of her second child.She went to Sanglah hospital in Denpasar for treatment, where she underwent what was likely a D&C.Following the procedure, she was also fitted with an IUD.However, within a month, she began to have abdominal pain.So she went to the hospital in Abian Kapas for a check-up.There Wa Céng was mistaken for someone else using the same name ('Kadék Tani').On account of mistaken identity, the two nurses on duty erroneously assumed she had been fitted with an IUD some two 23 Sisik.Lower belly, just below the belly button.24 Dani's attribution of several of these statements is based on Wa Céng's subsequent remarks, and discussion with both Wa Céng and other members of the family.
26 This term (makérét) is often used in reference both to 'D&E' (dilation and evacuation) and D&C (dilation and curettage) procedures.Its is more generally used of 'grinding', or the sound that it makes.years beforehand.And they berated her for going so long without a check-up.The more she protested, the angrier they became, until a male doctor came along and asked what was happening.On inspecting the book of records, he recognized the mistake.It turned out the other woman listed in the book, also called Kadék Tani, was from a different part of the island.The nurses were chided for their carelessness, and the doctor offered to remove the IUD himself, apologizing for how she had been treated.This synoptic account is perhaps somewhat easier to follow than the transcript itself.And this is at least in part due to the way in which the story was recounted.In Wa Céng's conversation with Dani, events were not related in strictly chronological order (see, e.g., lines 6, 16); there is repetition, both in specific turns of phrase, and the events themselves; sentences often stop and start abruptly, changing subject or topic; and the narrative is frequently carried forward by direct speech, often with scant indication of who is speaking (e.g., lines 10, 11, 41).The latter tendency seems especially pronounced in moments of heightened 'drama', as is the rapid repetition of words and short phrases (e.g., 'kebit, kebit, kebit, kebit…'; 'kéto abetné, kéto abetné…'; 'kéné, kéné, kéné…'; 'jelék, jelék, jelék…').Although each of the recorded conversations differs from the others in many respects, these characteristics are common throughoutparticularly, it seems, with Dani's older interlocutors.
So, what might we learn from an analysis of Wa Céng's style of speaking, and of recounting past events?Is there, for instance, a link between what she said and how she said it?Or would this already be to presuppose a dubious distinction?Given Wa Céng's limited schooling, and claims of illiteracy, might we extrapolate from Sweeney's (1987) argument for a non-literate style of composition and experience?Very briefly, Sweeney had extrapolated from the scholarship on the Greek 'literate revolution' (Havelock 1963(Havelock , 1982;;Lord 1976Lord [1960]]) to suggest that, while the introduction of literacy has had an important and demonstrable effect on the way Malays think, speak and write, there is a 'residual orality' evident in many aspects of Malay life.This is premised on the idea that the practices associated with 'literacy' bring with them new styles of thought and speech, characterized, e.g., by analyticity and a separation of the knowing subject from the objects and circumstances in which acts of knowing take place (cp.Ong 1958).He argued that this  distantiation and analyticity sit in sharp contrast to the sensibilities of non-literate communication, as exemplified by oral composition in shadow theatre and related performative styles.He described the latter as characterized by 'distinctive motifemic patterning on the level of plot, character typing, themes, parataxis, repetition, copiousness, parallelisms, formulas, and formulaic expressions ' (1987: 84).It may be worth considering the extent to which these and related elements may be discerned in the way older Balinese recount past events; and, conversely, how this might differ from the ways younger people -who have undergone years of formal education, and involvement with varyingly 'literate' mediaengage both with the past and their efforts toward the future.27

Etiquette, judgment, community
Looking more closely at the transcript, Wa Céng's story was predominantly recounted in colloquial 'low' Balinese, the familiar style of speaking characteristic of day-to-day life among one's close associates, particularly in and around the ward.28But it also incorporated elements of Indonesian and a more formal register of Balinese.This conversational mélange is quite common, and is recognized as such (e.g., as bahasa gado-gado, or bahasa campuran).
As is often the case, Wa Céng's narrative included Indonesian words for which there was no easy Balinese equivalent (alamat, KB, méja), as well as numbers (satu, dua), and various other terms (terus, mémang, langsung, begitu) and expressions (ma'af; masak!).However, in addition to these 'purely' Indonesian terms and phrases, she also used narrative 'linking' words that brought together a standard Indonesian base with a Balinese affix (e.g., soal-né; akhir-né)-which, again, is not uncommon.
As the primary language of articulation, colloquial Balinese linked together descriptions of events and reports on direct speech, Of family, futures and fear in a Balinese ward ...  as addressed to Dani-and presumably, to some extent, for my ear.However, beyond this, the direct speech itself marks differences of status and refinement, as indicated by subtle shifts in register.While the nurses speak coarsely, 'giving out words' (B.baang munyi) that are 'ugly, ugly, ugly!' (B. jelék, jelék, jelék!), the doctor recognizes her predicament and addresses her sympathetically, even going so far as to apologize (e.g., "Ma'af ya, 'buk… 'buk, tiang ngidih sinampura, nggih,").As for Wa Céng's account of her own speech, the use of polite pronouns (B.tiang; I. Pak) and simple markers of respect (B.nggih) might be seen as directed to situating her in a suitably deferential -and so respectable -position vis-à-vis the doctorand so, potentially, 'polite society' at large.This is not to suggest that Wa Céng was arguing in a considered fashion for a particular vision of collective life.But, rather, what I wish to suggest is that her linguistic nod to social grace -and to the judgment it seemed to entail -may have presupposed a specific ideal of communityone exemplified by the status markers and sor/singgih distinctions loosely sprinkled through the remarks she attributed to the doctor and herself.Assuming for the moment this were the case, we might then ask a series of new questions.For instance, what sort of ideal was this?And where else might we find it exemplified (e.g., in traditional dance drama, or shadow theatre)?What kinds of agency would it afford people like herself?How, specifically, was it violated by her mistreatment at Abian Kapas?And, however subtle, to what contemporary transformation -e.g., of her own situation, or that of her family and close associates -might her implicit judgment regarding this past experience have been directed?

Fear and the Family
As an institutionalized ideal, family was a source of fear in the early days of KB-something to which one was subjected through procedures about which little information was directly available.The initial conversations with the older cohort would suggest that women in Batan Nangka were afraid to 'use KB' (B.ma-KB)some even hiding in the pig sties to avoid detection by the roving midwife.Indeed the terms used in reference to those who were 'caught' by the tukang KB were the same words one uses of a pig 'seized ' for slaughter (e.g., ngejuk, juk-juk).But women were often equally afraid to stop using the IUD once they had begun, several citing stories of ensuing infertility, hemorrhaging and death (see, e.g., Wa Tari's remarks, above).Although I gather the term 'patient' (I.pasién) was not used in this connection, it would have been an accurate description of the form of agency embodied by women at the time.And, for good reason, few dared to complain.
Note for instance how Wa Céng carefully avoided criticizing the KB program directly-and this despite her difficulties with the IUD, and her all but Kafkaesque experience in Abian Kapas.This reluctance is evident to varying degrees in each of the recorded conversations with the older cohort.Dani's grandmother ('Dadong') offers an illustrative example.Reflecting on her experience with the IUD, and the early days of KB in Batan Nangka, Dadong recalled a series ailments that included a white discharge (B./I.putihan), a fleshy build-up around the IUD (B.tumbuh daging), and significant weight loss (merag-merag).Yet, in spite of her own account -which had linked these events to one another, and to the insertion of the IUD -she demurred at Dani's subsequent effort to elicit criticism of the KB program itself-or even reports of criticism from others.The following excerpt came as they discussed the door-to-door visits from the tukang KB.Family planning was widely understood to be a government initiative,29 and this was a woman who had only recently survived the purges of 1965-66.Again, Dadong recalled the three ailments -the discharge, the fleshy growth and the weight loss -as being related to one another; and this relationship was made explicit in the course of recounting her early experience of KB.Yet she resisted the idea of a causal connection to the IUD, and expressed dismay (B.'Pang 'da ja-e!) at the thought of 'complaints' or 'symptoms' (I.keluhan) arising directly from 'the KB' (B.'KB-e').
When I queried Dani's use of the term keluhan, she initially explained that she'd meant "symptoms (I.gejala) or irritations (I.kesal)… when you go to the doctor you're asked what's bothering you (I.keluhannya), for instance a bad stomach ache, with persistent diarrhea… that's an example of keluhan."But on further reflection she agreed there may have been some ambiguity here.On reviewing the recording, both she and a middle-aged neighbor, Putu, saw in Dadong's response a reticence to complain about government programs.When I asked Putu whether he thought this fear (B.jejeh) would have been based on a specific experience, he said he could not say for certain.But he then recounted how one of his neighbors had moved away from Batan Nangka because he was too scared (B.nyeh) to come home.Putu went on to describe a conversation he'd had with his neighbor -now living in another part of the island -around the time of the 2009 presidential elections.He had asked his neighbor why some 40 years later he was still afraid to return to Batan Nangka.The exchange, he said, went something like this: It seemed Putu's point was that, whether due to a specific event or otherwise, the experience of 1965-66 left the older generation profoundly shaken, and afraid to criticize openly anything that  might be related to the government.The recorded conversations would appear to support this strongly.So, given its localized origins in fear, how did the family become an object of desire for younger Balinese living in Batan Nangka?
From Fear to Desire… and Anxiety Between the early 1970s and 80s, the women of Batan Nangka were subjected to 'the family' as an array of instruments, institutions and procedures.Standing (or lying down) before the doctors, nurses, midwives and tukang KB, they were afforded little of the knowledge and capacity for transformation -of themselves and the world around them -that we tend to associate with the term 'agency'.Yet this is not to suggest they were powerless to resist, or to evade, the concerted effort to transform them into docile mothers and housewives, and so members of a governable population.To say nothing of the simple fact of their survival, and moments of levity, the sharp wit and criticism characteristic of many of the older Balinese women with whom I've had the privilege of working are eloquent testimony to the but partial success -and so partial failure -of 'the small, happy and prosperous family' as a normative principle.30So too are the countless Nyomans, Komangs, Komings and Ketuts, who stand as evidence of Balinese thinking and acting beyond the mantra of dua anak cukup, laki perempuan sama saja. 31Put simply, the drive for hegemony was not entirely successful.Can the same be said for more recent generations?However provisionally, the recorded conversations with the younger cohort seem to suggest a high degree of ambivalence.We have seen examples of fear in Dani's conversations with older members of her extended family.They were afraid to use KB; they were afraid to stop using KB; and they were afraid to complain.Under the circumstances, this probably made very good sense.Fear may also figure in how younger Balinese now think about family and their plans for the future.But it is likely a rather different sort of fear-perhaps more Of family, futures and fear in a Balinese ward ...  in line with that treated in the opening frames of the advertisement for the Andalan IUD.Dani's conversations with younger Balinese touch on concerns for health and physical discomfort, as well as the possibility of gaining weight, and so becoming unattractive to a prospective partner.But the heavy shadow of state violence is conspicuously absent.
Perhaps in its place we find, instead, a series of comparatively novel anxieties organized around the ideals of individuality and consumption.Without wishing to draw any firm conclusions at this point, it seems younger Balinese are acutely attuned to the precarity of their future, as determined by their choice of partner, their performance in school and their ability to earn and save money.In contrast to the early days of KB, the 'small, happy and prosperous family' is now predominant as both the means toward, and embodiment of, the good life.Its pursuit is characterized by a language shot-through with loanwords from English, including such things as planning, studi, bisnis, komitmén, target, gol, suksés, mental yang baik and ekonomi yang kuat. 32The individualizing character of these goods and virtues is seized upon with enthusiasm-offering pride in accomplishment and perceived opportunities for greater self-determination.But, so described, this 'small family' ideal also sets many younger Balinese at odds with the domestic circumstances in which they find themselves-living, as most in Batan Nangka are, in larger houseyards with their extended families.Set against this more proximate situation, fantasies of romance, elegance and individual accomplishment are played out, among other places, through social media (e.g., Facebook, Vine, Instagram), where posed photographs and expressions of sentimentality prevail. 33My initial impression is that the styles of self-presentation in play -and the aspirations they embody -differ from anything their parents and grandparents would have sought, experienced or even been able to recognize.Working out where some of the key differences lie, and how they relate to one another, is where the project is heading.

Appendix: Indonesia's Family Planning 'Success Story'
In very general terms, the ideals and institutions driving Indonesian 'state familyism' were motivated by a desire to curb population growth by controlling birth rates.The underlying premise was a causal link between population control and economic development.This link was initially forged at the level of international aid policy in the early 1950s, though it would not become a part of Indonesian plans for national development until some time later.
From the late 1950s through the early 70s the general sensibility was Malthusian, and for a time self-avowedly so.34Among policymakers, aid workers and politicians there was a working consensus that a reduction in 'positive checks' on population growth -such as war, famine and disease -was resulting in societies unable to provide for themselves.And, in the absence of 'preventative checks' -such as birth control and the postponement of marriage -it was thought the situation would only worsen.Family planning was touted as the obvious way forward.The aim was to reduce birth rates -and therefore population growth -through medical contraception, birth spacing, and education aimed at increasing the age of first marriage.Again, as with the diagnosis, the solution was fundamentally Malthusian.
Despite eventually becoming a family planning 'success story', Indonesia was seen to be ambivalent with regard to the grounding philosophy of population control.Though the history is undoubtedly more complicated than it is often made to appear (see Hull & Hull 2005), the country's early resistance to family planning is frequently attributed to Soekarno's 'natalist' insistence on a positive relationship between population growth and economic development.
Although there were isolated, clinic-based programs supported by various NGOs and international aid agencies as early as the late 1950s, a concerted Indonesian family planning program did not get underway until 1964.Indeed it was not until three years later, in 1967, that Soeharto signed the UN Declaration on Population.And it would be an additional two years after that, in 1969, that the formal link between population and economy would be recognized Of family, futures and fear in a Balinese ward ...  at the level of national development policy with the first Five-Year Development Plan (Repelita I, 1969).Repelita I made the argument for birth control with explicit reference to population growth and its presumed effect on economic development.However, the program itself was listed under the heading of healthcare for mothers and newborn children-and so birth control was, at least on paper, kept at something of a remove from planned development.35  During the period of the first Repelita (1969)(1970)(1971)(1972)(1973)(1974) family planning was carried out through a limited clinic-based program based in the more densely settled areas of Java and Bali.It was with the second Five-Year Development Plan (1974) that family planning became formally linked to population control and economic development.This brought together, at the level of policy, the two key elements of what the later Foucault theorized in terms of biopower: the sciento-bureaucratic management of population and the medical regulation of bodies (see Newland 2001).These were in turn linked to the promulgation of what I would describe as new forms of both social and practical reasoning anchored in the ideal of the 'small, happy and prosperous family'.This included: The isolation of the nuclear family as the primary social and • administrative unit; Prescibed limitations on the size of the family-two parents, • two children; The model of childhood as gender-neutral and graduated (I.• bayi, balita, anak-anak, remaja), with state-mandated benchmarks each step of the way; New division of labor as exemplified, e.g., in schoolbooks and • on television-father works and provides 'guidance' (national familyism is a scale of forms); mother is a homemaker and primary socializer of children; children go to school; New organization of space-shared marital bedroom; • children's individual bedrooms; public male space versus private female/children's space; 35 The initial reticence to link birth control to national development has been attributed to 'cultural' factors, and more specifically to the objections of Islamic clerics (Sarwono 2003: 29;Hugo et al. 1987).Again, the reality is presumably somewhat more complex.
entire accounts of prior events may be reported in direct speech, not unlike that sometimes used by the clown servants in dramatic performance (i.e., B. ngojah, in contrast to ngartiang/ ngartos).Here, for example, Dani's paternal aunt by marriage recounts her reasons for not daring (B.sing bani) to remove the IUD.Following a brief exchange with another member of the family, in which she explained why she was recording the conversation, Dani returned to repeat her question.Direct speech is in blue. almost

Fear and Loathing in Abian Kapas
B. alih-alih) for her name.Much of the account is related in direct speech; Wa Céng's own words as she recalls them appear in BLUE; the doctor's words are in GREEN; the nurses' words are in RED. 23242526