Patron-Client Ties and Access to Land

Colonial records concerning Polombangkeng present divergent depictions of patron-client relationships, not only because of the contradictory nature of village realities but also because colonial officials documented these relationships from varied institutional perspectives. Officials responsible for maintaining order emphasized disorder and exploitation, whereas administrative personnel and reflective observers highlighted stability and reciprocity. Consequently, a comprehensive understanding of these accounts necessitates consideration of authorship, administrative objectives, and the intellectual framework – whether the text was intended as a surveillance report or a social critique.

Tideman, controller of Takalar (1906–10) emphasized the negative side of patron-client ties in Polombangkeng. He describes the nobles (karaeng)Footnote ¹⁹ in Polombangkeng as exploiting their followers (minawang). They protected their followers, who performed service or devotion to their lord. As patrons, nobles often use their followers’ services for their own benefit. It was common knowledge that some nobles who were close relatives of the regent of Polombangkeng utilized their followers to make the whole region unsafe by becoming protectors and/or leaders of robbers.Footnote ²⁰ Such emphasis mirrors the policing optic of a controller: his information was drawn largely from police reports and incident records, and his mandate was to detect and document threats to order. Consequently, his account magnified the coercive and criminal aspects of patronage while downplaying its stabilizing functions.

In contrast, Kooreman,Footnote ²¹ a civil official of the Dutch government in the 1870s known for his descriptive and often critical essays on colonial policy, presented a more reciprocal perspective on patron-client relationships. He detailed how a minawang adhered to his karaeng in daily duties – such as working the fields, contributing to ceremonies, or accompanying him on travels – while the lord, in turn, offered protection to his clients, defended them against mistreatment, recovered stolen property, and provided land, livestock, or tools when necessary. Notably, Kooreman critiqued colonial reforms that disregarded local customs. In his account, he contended that councils of regents and village heads, which were established and regulated by the colonial government, could not be effectively implemented because they were fundamentally incompatible with Bugis–Makassar adat.Footnote ²² Such assertions emphasize that his portrayal was not merely an administrative report but a reflective account attuned to the integration of patron-clientship within the local society and willing to challenge colonial orthodoxy.

According to Th. Chabot,Footnote ²³ patron-client interactions in South Sulawesi in the 1940s exhibited a similar pattern to Kooreman’s description of the patronage phenomena observed during the Dutch colonial era. The follower system encompassed the total of relationships between a higher person (karaeng, lord) and those lower, whom he calls ana’ana’na or taunna (his men). In his observations in the 1940s, Chabot found that many high-ranking people had followers who would work their fields, perform domestic services such as providing drinking water and firewood, run errands, or help their lord stage ceremonies. Some of those still unmarried would voluntarily stay in the houses of their patron as domestic servants without salary; there, they received only lodging, food, and clothing. The patron often organized the wedding of such a servant and may have been the one to look for the servant’s spouse. In such cases, the newly married couple would often live near the patron’s house, a pattern of immediate postmarital residence that facilitated their provision of assistance when necessary. However, they also had their fields to work. When there was a celebration at the patron’s house, not only would these neighbouring followers be present to provide labour, but even those who resided farther away would readily come to be present. Conversely, if they needed such assistance as rice or other commodities, they would receive such assistance from their patron.

Heddy Ahimsa PutraFootnote ²⁴ explores the complexities of patron-client relationships in Makassar, making substantial use of Kooreman’s findings. Initially, this follower system was linked to mastery of symbols of power, namely, heirlooms known as kalompoang or gaukang. These heirlooms provide a basis for legitimacy and authority. When a person has kalompoang or gaukang, they gain more followers and become more solid and steady. The gaukang provided a stable identity and source of mystical vitality.Footnote ²⁵ When this emblem of power changes hands, so does the number of followers. According to Schulte Nordhlot,Footnote ²⁶ the use of symbols of sacred power and rituals was an early phase of the evolutionary process of a form of government in which the monopoly of power of the sacred ruler was contested by various elites at various levels. It was a struggle for control over comparatively scarce resources such as labour, food, access to trade, wealth, and protection. Temporary and relative security was a scarce commodity that a powerful individual could provide. These elites contested each other’s subjects and sources of income, leading to the frequent need to re-establish social bonds between patrons and clients.

Kooreman asserts that the relationship between a lord and a follower was voluntary and could be terminated at any time is . The lord could dismiss the follower if the latter was not obedient or did not fulfil obligations. Similarly, followers could seek a different lord if they felt the previous one did not provide adequate protection. If a follower thought he had sufficient power to stand independently without the protection of a higher authority, he could choose to end the relationship or take on the role of protector for his followers. KooremanFootnote ²⁷ describes a clan’s transition from Karaeng Bontoparang to Karaeng Polombangkeng. However, he did not provide any explanation for why the clan changed patrons or how the new relationship was connected to the earlier one.

In the specific case of the patron-client relationship in Polombangkeng, this bond is not solely based on economic dependence; it also involves emotional loyalty, such as the provision of support during personal crises, allowing the patron-client relationship to be passed down to the next generation. Clients often feel proud to be part of their patron’s family and tend to instil that loyalty in their children. When a client decides to switch to another patron for specific benefits or opportunities, it does not necessarily mean a loss of loyalty to the previous patron. Typically, this transition occurs with the blessing of the former patron, primarily when the new patron is related. The tradition of rivalry among aristocrats in Polombangkeng during the Indonesian independence revolution illustrates the phenomenon of inherited patron-client ties, showcasing how loyalty and obligations are passed down through generations. Clients often carry on the loyalty passed down from their parents, aligning themselves with the political choices of their patrons.Footnote ²⁸

Land played a pivotal role in establishing and perpetuating of patron-client relationships in Polombangkeng. The nobility exercised control over vast expanses of land, necessitating substantial labour resources. This imbalance – characterized by an abundance of land but a relative scarcity of labour – afforded peasants a degree of bargaining power in their interactions with their patrons. While nobles allocated plots, livestock, or tools to ensure loyalty, clients negotiated protection and support in return. These endowments elucidate the contradictory colonial portrayals of patronage: to some officials, it appeared exploitative, whereas to others, it represented a system of reciprocal obligation.

Numerous nobles allocated land, livestock, and agricultural equipment to ensure the allegiance of their followers to the state. This practice was deeply rooted in the early processes of village formation through gaukang, sacred objects around which the original Makassarese communities were established.Footnote ²⁹ The gaukang served as the palladium of the community, revered as a guardian spirit, and was central to the settlement. As populations expanded, these settlements became known as gaukang villages, with the gallarang, the custodian of the gaukang,Footnote ³⁰ serving as the leader. In this context, land was not merely an economic resource but also held spiritual significance. Fields, gardens, and hunting grounds dedicated to the gaukang (referred to as “gaukang lands”) were entrusted to the gallarang, who possessed the authority to allocate and utilize them as they saw fit. Over time, nobles extended this authority by managing extensive tracts of land that necessitated labour, thereby reinforcing patron-client relationships between elites and peasants.

The emergence of tumanurung Footnote ³¹ as king united the gallarang into one political entity (kingdom). The community or people submitted an oath of allegiance to the tumanurung as king and, at the same time, transferred their communal land to royal land. One legitimation of a king was having a kalompoang, or spiritually powerful regalia. Each ruler inherited the communal lands given to tumanurung, known as kalompoang lands. In Polombangkeng society, a rule designates the landowner as kalompoang, hence the term “kalompoang land” – those who hold or control the kalompoang benefit from cultivating the kalompoang land.Footnote ³² Then, the kalompoang lands, leading to the creation of new regions. The establishment of these new areas resulted in new rulers. A nobleman was dispatched to reign over these new areas and presented kalompoang with lands in his realm. As the holder of the kalompoang, the ruler was responsible for supervising land use and granting authorization for use rights for land management. The king, who holds the kalompoang, must oversee the land’s use and authorize land management rights. The ruler had the power to bestow or transfer land cultivation rights. The right to work on the land is forfeited in the event that the cultivator passes away without any heirs, fails to meet their obligations, engages in criminal activities, or abandons the land. The kalompoang rulers once again asserted control over lands in such circumstances.Footnote ³³

In later times, the gallarang, or village chief, had the authority to create and manage official lands. They acquired these official lands through two different means: lands of people who gave up their lands because they violated customs, and lands captured in wars and kingdom mergers. These official lands were then called butta kakaraengan.Footnote ³⁴ The gaukang lands also increased with the offering of newly cleared lands. Peasants had a mandatory work assignment on gaukang and kalompoang land called kasuwiyang. Gallarang Moncongkomba and Gallarang Bontokadatto had a variety of gaukang lands in the form of rice fields and hunting forests.Footnote ³⁵ Officials usually allocated these official lands to individuals for cultivation under a profit-sharing system. Over time, however, such official lands became the property of individual officials. This is due to the long tenure of the official in the position or the inheritance by his son, resulting in the accumulation of income from the office land over decades, leading them to perceive the land as their personal property.

Apart from official land, there was also individually administered land. Customary rules allowed individuals to develop land by first conveying it to the village head and receiving approval from the gallarang. Land controlled by individuals for generations was called butta sosorang. Residents had the right to use and cultivate butta sosorang land for agricultural purposes, following the traditional customs and regulations set by the village head and the gallarang. However, if the land is left unused for years, the status of the land is abandoned and the opportunity to cultivate it is open to anyone. This also applies to rice fields; if they are left for about three to seven years, they become uncultivated land, and other people can use them to cultivate them again.Footnote ³⁶ Patron-client relationships were based on access to and control of land. Aristocrats had considerable power and control over extensive land holdings, including personal and official lands. They then provided job guarantees and protection to the peasants who worked their land. Clients demonstrated unwavering loyalty and devotion to their patrons through various acts of service and dedication. As clients, they were called suro, which means people who faithfully serve their master’s needs. On the contrary, the lord provided protection and honour to all clientele members.

During Dutch colonialism, the patron-client relationship regarding access to land changed. This change was a result of the colonial state asserting its authority by claiming royal lands as conquest rights, aligning with the shift in the patron-client relationship. For instance, the Polombangkeng authorities initially had control over gaukang lands, such as the Epeka grasslands in the area. However, when the colonial system was in place, the controller of Takalar served as the governor’s representative and controlled this gaukang land for hunting.Footnote ³⁷ The ratification of the agrarian law (Agrarische Wet) in 1870 gave the colonial government even more access to land. This control was meant to solve island of Java’s agriculture problems. It was declared to apply outside Java, on agricultural territory belonging to people, therefore transcending the island in 1875.Footnote ³⁸ This regulation emphasized the domain principle, which states that all land over which someone cannot prove the existence of eigendom rights is the domain of the state. This law also empowered the Dutch government to assert control over land by implementing a tax system, which significantly impacted land control practices.Footnote ³⁹

In the traditional government structure in Polombangkeng, there were three main political hierarchies: the karaeng (king) as the highest leader, followed by the gallarang, and the village heads, known as ponggawa. The gallarang held autonomous authority in managing its designated territory, playing a crucial role in local governance within the traditional structure. After Governor General van der Capellen’s 1824 regulation on government in South Sulawesi, the colonial administration faced critical questions: which levels of the hierarchy should be retained and which should be abolished, and how should power be distributed within the traditional hierarchy amidst the stronghold of local-traditional authority? The government had two options to address the hierarchical issue: either maintain the autonomy of the gallarang’s fiefdom by abolishing the karaeng’s power, or abolish the gallarang and strengthen the karaeng’s authority by appointing him as regent. The government’s second choice was to abolish the gallarang by integrating him into the karaeng’s authority. Subsequently, the government proceeded with the second option, leading to the elimination of the gallarang’s role and the reinforcement of the karaeng as the regent. As a result, there were only two recognized positions in the colonial officials’ system of government: the regent and the village head, who each presided over a separate council (the regent council and the village council).Footnote ⁴⁰

The colonial administration’s policies diminished the gallarang’s authority, causing the loss of control and access to gaukang land, which the gallarang had previously managed. Based on this regulation, control and access to land broke the patron-client relationship between peasants and gallarang. This system disadvantaged the gallarang, as they were stripped of access to and control over their ancestral lands. Additionally, the peasants faced economic hardships due to the imposition of a ten per cent tax on their rice harvest, putting further strain on their livelihoods. Both peasants and gallarang vehemently opposed this tax system due to its detrimental impact on their livelihoods and traditional land rights. Due to this situation, new patronage patterns that were characterized by joint efforts between peasants and gallarang to oppose the unfair tax system emerged, demonstrating a change in traditional power dynamics. The policy to eliminate the role of gallarangs in government illustrates that the colonial government misunderstood the social structure.

PelrasFootnote ⁴¹ notes that patron-client relationships are widespread in Bugis and Makassarese societies, although their specific manifestations differ based on historical and social contexts. This adaptability makes it challenging to establish a definitive classification of patronage in the region. However, this flexibility also allows for exploring how patronage was locally redefined in specific conflicts. In this regard, the Polombangkeng case is particularly enlightening, demonstrating how peasant communities utilized particular forms of patronage to oppose the colonial tax policies. The colonial state’s dominant strategies not only disrupted existing networks but also led to new adaptations of patron-client relationships. These evolving forms of patronage are evident in peasants’ collective resistance to taxation. A more nuanced understanding of these dynamics can be attained by examining how Polombangkeng peasants recalibrated their relationships with patrons – seeking protection from local elites, forming new village-based alliances, and mobilizing kinship networks – as pragmatic strategies of resistance against colonial interference.

The Ten Per Cent Rice Tax

The ten per cent rice tax was originally derived from the customary rules of the kingdoms in South Sulawesi, which granted the war victors the authority to collect ten per cent of the rice yields in the areas they had conquered. Taxation was levied on the rice harvests derived from lands specifically recognized as royal property. Therefore, the rice cultivated on privately owned land was exempt from the ten per cent tax. After conquering Makassar in 1669, the VOC (Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie – Dutch East India Company), treated the Makassar kingdoms as conquered territory and adopted the customary ten per cent tax on rice. The company followed the local practice of demanding ten per cent of all products as proof of recognition as their superior.Footnote ⁴² Then, the rice tax objective expanded. On 16 October 1781, Governor Barend Reyeke made a contract with the king of Gowa, giving the company the right to collect ten per cent of rice from the entire territory of the Gowa kingdom. The VOC imposed this levy due to the Gowa authorities’ inability to pay for war expenses resulting from the Batara Gowa I Sangkilang rebellion from 1777 to 1778. This contract also indicated that the ten per cent tax object was rice from royal lands, including land managed individually. Since 1796, with the end of the rice tax contract, the ten per cent rice levy has also been stopped.Footnote ⁴³

On 17 July 1824, Governor General Baron van der Capellen promulgated a new regulation concerning government administration and justice in the Makassar region, referred to as the government of the Makassar Gubernemen and its Subordinate Regions.Footnote ⁴⁴ This new system reintroduced a ten per cent rice tax on both royal and individual peasants’ lands, formally implementing it throughout South Sulawesi. However, in practice, this measure was not immediately enforced across the region. Polombangkeng, in particular, presented significant challenges because of its intricate landholding arrangements and the resistance of local authorities. A report by the governor of Celebes in 1853 confirmed that no rice tax had yet been levied in Polombangkeng, unlike in other districts in the region. It was only after 1857 that the ten per cent rice tax was effectively extended to all districts of South Sulawesi, including Polombangkeng.Footnote ⁴⁵

The ten per cent rice tax became a significant source of revenue for the government; however, it faced several implementation issues. These included arbitrary calculations of the tax amount, regional variations in the quality and price of rice, and protests from peasants. In the early decades of the twentieth century, tax collection remained a problematic legacy of previous colonial regimes. In 1906, the director of finance of the colonial government proposed eliminating the ten per cent rice tax and replacing it with a head tax due to the unpredictable nature of rice prices, which made the ten per cent tax on harvests unreliable. This proposal was based on the Staatsblad van Nederlandsch-Indië voor 1890 No.172 (State Gazette), which eliminated several commodity taxes, such as coffee and salt, because they were deemed ineffective. Then, in 1908, the governor of Celebes, A. J. Baron Quarles de Quarles, proposed changing the ten per cent rice levy to include land, business, and income taxes. However, this policy was not implemented because the projected tax would amount to only f.350.000, a sum lower than the combined proceeds from the population tax and ten per cent rice levy.Footnote ⁴⁶ Nevertheless, the governor of Celebes maintained the tax.Footnote ⁴⁷ For the Takalar and Gowa areas, the Dutch encouraged rice production by building irrigation canals since 1907.Footnote ⁴⁸

The policy of tax withdrawal plans to include land, business, and income taxes was not implemented because the profit from the ten per cent rice levy was significantly higher. According to the reports of Celebes governors A. J. Baron Quarles de Quarles, L. J. J. Caron and J. L. M. Swaab, the Dutch East Indies government derived substantial profits from the ten per cent rice levy. Based on the rice-field area in Takalar of 10,574 hectaresFootnote ⁴⁹ and the average rice production in the Gowa sub-region of 25 pikul per hectare,Footnote ⁵⁰ rice production in the Takalar is estimated at 264,350 pikul. Consequently, ten per cent of this output amounts to 26,435 pikul. With the price of rice in that period at f.3.50 p$\frac{1}{2}$p, the profit obtained by the governor of Celebes was f.12,336,333.1. This substantial figure explains why the governors of Celebes did not implement the proposed changes to the tax system.

In 1910, there were crop failures in various places, triggering a rice shortage, made worse a few years later by the outbreak of the First World War, so the Dutch East Indies government lifted the ban on rice imports.Footnote ⁵¹ The rice shortage resulted in increased prices for rice, making it harder for peasants to generate income and pay their taxes. In 1918, the Volksraad (People’s Council) resisted the tax system due to significant economic disparities between regions, leading to widespread discontent. Certain regions refrained from enforcing the ten per cent tax levy, citing the already burdensome economic conditions faced by local farmers. Despite the variations in rice type, quality, and price across regions, the uniformity of government officials in determining payments led to disparities in the tax system’s fairness. The omission of drying, processing, and wage costs from the ten per cent rice levy further increased the financial burden on farmers, exacerbating their economic challenges. Finally, there was a government monopoly in the rice trade, and only traders with permits could buy rice from peasants.Footnote ⁵² The ten per cent rice tax remained in effect until the conclusion of the Dutch colonial rule in the region.

Tax Non-Compliance

To expedite the collection of the ten per cent rice tax, the Dutch colonial government appointed officials with the authority to determine the amount each peasant was required to pay. Formally, this was intended to simplify the process, as peasants could fulfil their obligations either in cash or in kind. As a standard measure, 100 bundles of rice weighing 12–13 catties (1 catty = 6¼ ounces) were valued at f. 33.Footnote ⁵³ Based on this valuation, the ten per cent rice tax amounted to f. 3.3, or the equivalent of ten bundles per hundred. Peasants could settle this obligation either in kind or by paying a cash equivalent. However, this arrangement quickly generated problems. The discretionary authority entrusted to tax officials concentrated considerable power in their hands, creating scope for arbitrariness and corruption, while peasants had little bargaining power to contest unfair assessments. Moreover, the benchmark price imposed by the government failed to reflect the diversity of rice quality across the region. In the Southern District, including Polombangkeng, the benchmark price was disproportionately high for the inferior rice grown under limited irrigation conditions, leaving peasants heavily burdened. Conversely, in the Northern District, such as Maros, where irrigation allowed for superior rice cultivation, the same benchmark undervalued their higher-quality produce.Footnote ⁵⁴ Instead of ensuring fairness, the system deepened regional inequalities and reinforced peasants’ dependence on colonial officials, monopolizing the authority to assess and collect taxes.

Tax officers collaborated with regents, village heads, and traditional leaders to facilitate tax collection. This collaboration aimed to streamline the tax collection process, ensure that farmers understood they were not obligated to pay tribute to nobles, and simplify financial interactions within the community.Footnote ⁵⁵ This coordination exemplified the colonial government’s strategy to employ traditional authorities as intermediaries to mitigate peasant resistance, akin to the successful implementation of the coffee tax policy under the Cultuurstelsel (Cultivation System) in Java.Footnote ⁵⁶ The prohibition against giving tribute to karaengs was based on the principle that peasants, having fulfilled their tax obligations, were exempt from additional financial burdens, thereby promoting a fair and equitable taxation system within the community. In principle, the colonial government prohibited further tribute once peasants had paid the ten per cent rice tax, asserting that native officials were already compensated through state salaries. However, this principle had not yet been fully realized. Tribute to nobles had long been entrenched as a cultural obligation across generations, and peasants continued to offer it voluntarily despite formal prohibition. Moreover, most arable land in Polombangkeng was under the control of nobles, so peasants cultivating gaukang, kalompoang, or private noble lands were still required to surrender a share of their harvest under the tesang (profit-sharing) system while also meeting the state’s tax. Thus, although regulations were officially aimed at preventing a double burden, in reality, peasants experienced precisely that – a dual obligation to both the state and the nobility.

The government argued that native authorities were already compensated through taxes collected in their jurisdiction. However, a subsequent issue arose when not all nobles were included in the hierarchical framework of the colonial authority. Gallarang’s omission from the colonial government resulted in their lack of jurisdiction to levy taxes on the lands under their control. In the traditional system, the gallarang operates as an autonomous region. It holds a position subordinate to the king yet superior to the village head, with clearly defined roles and responsibilities. Similarly, the gallarang owned large tracts of gaukang land. However, under colonial tax regulations, the gallarang were denied any share of the land revenues or governmental salaries, substantially impacting their financial stability and authority within the colonial administration. The colonial system of government specifically eroded the authority of the gallarang.Footnote ⁵⁷

Enforcing a ten per cent tax implies double obligations for peasants. Peasants cultivating gaukang and kalompoang lands and nobles’ private lands using a tesang system hand over one third of their rice yields to the nobles as land owned. Peasants also have the obligation to pay a tenth tax to the government. In contrast to peasants, regents and village heads who acted as native officials in the colonial administration had double incomes. They received tribute from peasants, a form of payment or gift, and a monthly salary from the government ranging from f. 20 to f. 70.Footnote ⁵⁸ The government then argued that the customary system caused the exploitation of peasants so that, wherever possible, customs considered exploitative were eliminated. The colonial government seemed to impose a colonial legal paradigm in interpreting customary law that applied in society. This also shows the colonial and customary law contestation, reflected in the struggle for tax resources.

The gallarang were a group of nobles who suffered losses in the colonial tax system. Before Dutch colonialism, they had special rights: the right to collect taxes, the right to rent out land to residents, and the right to receive benefits from official land (gaukang land).Footnote ⁵⁹ After the Dutch government came to power, these rights were lost because they were not included in the colonial government structure. In the colonial government structure, the regent (karaeng) was the highest native official in the colonial government structure, while the village head was at the bottom of the government. The regent’s position was as a broker or middleman for the power of the Dutch colonial government.Footnote ⁶⁰ Meanwhile, the gallarang were not included in the colonial government hierarchy, so they lost control and access to gaukang lands.

The position of the gallarang became even weaker when Governor General van der Capellen issued a regulation prohibiting all compulsory personal work (verplichte diensten) and compulsory work for the nobility or palace (heeren-of hofdiensten), as well as a prohibition on paying tribute to government employees within the Makassar Governorate area.Footnote ⁶¹ This regulation could potentially disrupt the long-standing symbiotic relationship between peasants and karaeng by altering the dynamics of their interactions. According to Gibson,Footnote ⁶² since 1860 the Dutch government has begun to issue policies that weaken the nobility. This policy reflects the Dutch colonial government’s view that the economic decline of the population resulted from exploitation by the nobles. Consequently, the Dutch government aimed to abolish the privileges of the nobles to address this issue.Footnote ⁶³ Dutch officials in the Southern District were specifically empowered to implement measures to eradicate tax levies in Polombangkeng in alignment with the local customs of the population.Footnote ⁶⁴ This colonial perspective did not look at the customs that have taken root and have become part of society’s social and cultural system. Meanwhile, although the ban on giving tribute was never lifted, it was not actually implemented, because peasants still paid tribute to local authorities. This contradiction between formal colonial regulations and local practices resonates with what ManseFootnote ⁶⁵ has shown: taxes in colonial Indonesia became “rooted in local patterns of customary law, indirect rule, and constant negotiation between colonial officials, local indigenous rulers, and subjected taxpayers.” Such bottom-up practices of negotiated governance highlight that fiscal administration was never merely imposed from above but continually reshaped through consultation and everyday practices.

Peasants were culturally obligated to the nobility, necessitating the surrender of a portion of their harvest. This practice persisted even under colonial taxation due to its deep-rooted presence in social norms and reciprocal expectations of protection and subsistence guarantees. As ScottFootnote ⁶⁶ posits, peasant relations with elites were structured around a “moral economy” where loyalty was exchanged for subsistence security rather than free choice. For instance, in times of crop failure, the karaeng could provide assistance, thereby reinforcing this dependence. Similarly, PelrasFootnote ⁶⁷ notes that Bugis-Makassar patronage was highly adaptable, enabling peasants to recalibrate their ties under external pressures such as colonial tax. KooremanFootnote ⁶⁸ also reveals that peasants frequently concealed part of their rice harvest to evade state taxes yet continued to deliver shares to nobles, demonstrating that tribute to local patrons remained a priority despite the associated risks. Thus, the continued transfer of harvests to the nobility reflected a combination of cultural obligation, pragmatic reciprocity, and structural inequality inherent in patron-client relationships.

Peasants basically felt more bound by paying tribute to nobles as their cultural obligation for generations rather than paying ten per cent of their rice to the Dutch government. Peasants felt more comfortable sharing their harvest with the karaeng. The patron-client relationship in agriculture was based on honesty. Peasants managed gaukang, kalompoang, or noble private rice fields on the basis of trust. In the process of handing over part of the harvest, the peasants calculated the harvest himself and determined how much should be handed over to the karaeng. In the event of crop failure, the karaeng still provided subsistence guarantees to peasants. This patronage system created a moral economy of peasants who were obedient to the karaeng, who guarantees their subsistence. Peasants found it more beneficial to hand over part of their harvest to the karaeng rather than pay the ten per cent tax to the colonial government. It has been proven that there were many cases of hiding rice products to avoid taxes while distributing rice products to nobles, which was still ongoing.

The ten per cent rice tax was extraordinarily high for peasants in Polombangkeng. Meanwhile, other economic sectors, such as coffee plantation owners, traders (including some very rich), sailors, artisans, and fishermen, were exempt from the ten per cent tax. For comparison, in 1877, the onderafdeling (sub-department) of Takalar, where most of the population were peasants, generated tax revenues of f.57,000 from rice products, sugar cane, salt ponds, and relatively small trading activities. Meanwhile, in the same year, the onderafdeling of Bantaeng exported more than 40,000 pikuls of coffee and developed trading activities. There were also coffee plantation entrepreneurs and wealthy traders, especially the Wajo people, who only contributed taxes of around f.10,000, including tax per head.Footnote ⁶⁹ Peasants in Polombangkeng experienced a profound sense of tax injustice, which had enduring repercussions until the twentieth century. This injustice fuelled various rebellions and uprisings against the colonial government.

The ten per cent tax policy on rice resulted in the emergence of peasant resistance in Polombangkeng. The government authorities then investigated this case of tax refusal and tried to convince the population that the taxes collected were not high but too low.Footnote ⁷⁰ The Dutch government believed that peasants who did not own rice fields were acting as provocateurs and causing disobedience to the ten per cent rice tax due to their alleged involvement in anti-government activities.Footnote ⁷¹ The distribution of land ownership was unequal, and many peasants did not own land, so they had to pay profit sharing to landowners and, at the same time, had to pay taxes to the government. This unequal distribution of land ownership created economic hardship for many peasants, leading to their resistance against the government’s tax policies. The Dutch government’s attempt to blame provocateurs for the tax refusal further fuelled tensions between the authorities and the farming population.

To avoid taxes, peasants hid their crops. These peasants’ actions reflect the everyday politics of peasant resistance.Footnote ⁷² Initially, the Dutch government tolerated minor violations by delegating resolution to the court at the regent or village head level, allowing for local handling of such cases. This omission aimed to limit the reach of colonial legal power by upholding customary authority as long as it aligned with government interests, ensuring a balance between traditional practices and official regulations. However, beneath this accommodating legal stance laid a tendency to exploit local authorities due to the government’s challenges in regulating peasant behaviour. To overcome the concealment of rice harvest results, the government issued regulations prohibiting peasants from transferring rice harvest results before tax calculation.Footnote ⁷³ This regulation was expected to be a solution to simplify tax calculations while preventing peasants from hiding their rice. However, this regulation was the same as letting rice rot in the fields, because the harvest lasts for two or three months. This highlights how the regulation reflected the pragmatism of colonial law, as it overlooked specific technical challenges faced by peasants, showcasing a practical approach to governance. Many peasants then choose to break this rule to avoid rotting their rice.

The peasants’ tax resistance led to their demand for legal protection against tax violations. Gallarang Moncongkomba and Gallarang Bontokadatto protected peasants who hid rice before the tax officer’s assessment. The two gallarang sought to preserve the loyalty of the peasantry by shielding them from legal complications. They had strong influence in society but were not accommodated in the colonial government structure and became part of the resistance against tax policies. In Scott’s view, when dealing with outside world, patrons can do something for their clients to maintain client loyalty.Footnote ⁷⁴ The authority given to regents and village heads to judge minor offences in their area of authority was a legal loophole for nobles (patrons) to protect peasants (clients) and maintain loyalty. This situation illustrates how patronage adjusts in response to the colonial state’s dominance through its tax policies. The manner in which peasants and gallarang adapted their relationships in response to taxation exemplifies a dynamic akin to what ManseFootnote ⁷⁵ characterizes as a “looping effect”: colonial policies were not solely imposed from above but were transformed through reciprocal interactions with local practices and resistance to them.

The Anti-Tax Movement: Theft, Robbery, and Messianic

The routine resistance exhibited by Polombangkeng peasants against the imposition of a ten per cent rice tax – manifested through actions such as concealing rice prior to assessment, evading tax officials, or falsifying harvest data – was often tolerated and safeguarded by the local gallarang. This protection fostered a sense of impunity, emboldening the peasants to progress beyond minor infractions. Over time, these quotidian acts of noncompliance escalated into more overt offenses, including theft and organized robbery. By the late nineteenth century, groups of robbers had emerged in Polombangkeng,Footnote ⁷⁶ frequently operating under the patronage of high-ranking nobles, particularly the gallarang who were marginalized by the colonial administration and had experienced a decline in their economic and political authority.Footnote ⁷⁷ Gallarang Bontokadatto and Gallarang Moncongkomba openly supported and shielded these robber groups, partly as a demonstration of their autonomy in relation to the Dutch colonial state. In certain instances, the robbers were close relatives of the nobles. Here, agricultural patron-client relationships intersected with ties in banditry: peasants who became members of robber bands maintained their loyalty to patrons who sponsored or led such activities. This development indicates that the rise in criminality was not merely a matter of law-breaking but a consequence of colonial policies that undermined traditional authority and threatened the economic foundations of local elites.Footnote ⁷⁸

The regent of Polombangkeng could not act against the raiders, who were either followers or relatives of the Gallarang Moncongkomba and Gallarang Bontokadatto. He upheld the tradition that a member of the nobility could not punish another noble of equal rank. The regent of Polombangkeng, having the same noble status as Gallarang Moncongkomba and Gallarang Bontokadatto, chose to conspire with robbers who shared his noble lineage to maintain familial harmony and avoid potential conflicts within the nobility.Footnote ⁷⁹ In early 1903, a physical confrontation occurred between police and robbers in the regency of Bangkala, resulting in four robbers being killed and one being captured. Following this incident, the government police called upon the regent of Polombangkeng to provide information about the robbers’ identities. The regent claimed that he did not recognize any of the robbers. However, the investigation conducted by the government inspector revealed that the robbers were from Bontokadatto, located about two hundred meters from the regent of Polombangkeng’s residence. Despite this finding, the regent could not be arrested due to a lack of witnesses.Footnote ⁸⁰

The police encountered significant challenges in apprehending robbers of noble descent due to their ability to find refuge among relatives and the reluctance of residents to cooperate. They could easily find a hiding place among their relatives. Apart from that, the residents refused to publicly appear as witnesses because they were followers of the nobleman. The robbers quickly fled and sought refuge in the areas of respected nobles due to the protection and support they received from the noble families in those regions.Footnote ⁸¹ The Moncongkomba and Bontokadatto areas were hiding places for fugitive criminals. If someone accused of theft or robbery were a follower of the karaeng or gallarang, these figures would protect or hide them to prevent their trial in Topejawa or Makassar, ensuring their immunity from prosecution. The involvement of karaeng or gallarang in cases of theft and robbery had become a public secret in Polombangkeng society. This situation resulted in colonial officials’ view that out of three cases of theft and robbery, on average, two involved or originated from Polombangkeng.Footnote ⁸²

The controller of Takalar knew the crime phenomenon in Polombangkeng and therefore found a way to detect and prevent violations of the law. The controller then gave his trusted agents permission to investigate any legal matters that the regents or village leaders had not reported. However, according to Kooreman,Footnote ⁸³ until the end of the nineteenth century, not a single robbery perpetrator from Moncongkomba and Bontokadatto was arrested and tried in the Topejawa or Makassar courts. As a further consequence, theft and robbery have become part of institutionalized economic activities in traditional hierarchies. Members of noble families who did not hold positions in the colonial government but who held traditional authority took advantage of their personal status to demonstrate their power by organizing robbery and theft. The noble leader of this robber had followers, most of whom were peasants who were also given wages or profit sharing. Sometimes poor people outside of the robbers also shared the profits.Footnote ⁸⁴ The native officials preferred to cooperate with the robbers rather than antagonize them, and they were sometimes close relatives. Native officials needed support from the robber leaders so that, at the same time, he must also protect the robber members from the lawsuits.

The power relationship between native officials and raiders led to a symbiotic reciprocity between karaeng, native officials, and members of the raiders. The bandit members guaranteed the safety and honour of the karaeng family or local officials. In return, local officials protected the robbers from the law and greeted them with celebratory services when they entered their territory. This criminal cycle of theft and robbery persisted for generations, deeply ingrained in society, shaping a new perspective that viewed theft and robbery as not just a livelihood but also an adventurous pursuit. According to Kooreman,Footnote ⁸⁵ individuals who engaged in theft or robbery during their youth were prevalent within the farming community and among village heads. Their past actions did not tarnish their standing within the village; their history was seen as a display of bravery, earning them admiration and respect from the community.

At the beginning of the twentieth century, the welfare of the people of the Dutch East Indies became a concern of the colonial government. A significant problem of the government was the decline in the well-being of the population due to the high tax burden.Footnote ⁸⁶ In 1908, a remarkable robber named I Tolok Daeng Magassing emerged.Footnote ⁸⁷ He hailed from an ordinary peasant family in Parapa, a village located on the border of Takalar and Gowa. Despite his modest origins, Tolok was often associated with the descendants of tu barani Footnote ⁸⁸ and exhibited a rebellious spirit. Notably, he did not belong to the noble class; however, he possessed charisma, attracted many followers, and was an expert in martial art. He ultimately became the leader of the paggora patampuloa (forty robbers) group. This phenomenon of an influential figure arising from the peasant class can be classified as social banditry.Footnote ⁸⁹ I Tolok Daeng Magassing’s robberies targeted wealthy individuals, officials, and important sources of Dutch government revenue, including the homes of tax collectors and the county treasury. I Tolok Daeng Magassing’s followers consisted of a mix of people from the peasant community, making it extremely difficult for the Dutch government to locate and arrest them. After the robberies, they quietly retreated to the rice fields, blending seamlessly into the farming community while continuing their agricultural activities.Footnote ⁹⁰ In addition, peasants played a crucial role as spies, providing information about police movements and helping to identify potential targets for robberies. However, the I Tolok movement transformed into a political movement when it allied with local officials seeking to gain power.Footnote ⁹¹

In November 1915, the Dutch government succeeded in suppressing I Tolok Daeng Magassing’s robbery movement. The government purged indigenous officials suspected of assisting the I Tolok Daeng Magassing robbery movement, leading to their dismissal and legal action against them. The Dutch East Indies government arrested and exiled several nobles and native officials who supported I Tolok. This included the regent of Polombangkeng, Tikolla Daeng Maleo; his brother, Cincing Daeng Tompo; and his nephew, Daeng Manyengka.Footnote ⁹² Other officials who faced sacking and detention were Karaeng Batupute, Karaeng Barombong, the regent of Binamu, Lompo Daeng Raja, the regent of Tanralili, Regent Camba, and the regents of Tanralili.Footnote ⁹³ Majadi Daeng Sisila replaced his brother, Tikolla Daeng Maleo, as the regent of Polombangkeng but was subsequently arrested on charges of resisting taxation.Footnote ⁹⁴

Following the Dutch government’s effective suppression of the I Tolok Daeng Magassing robbery movement and the arrest and exile of several high-ranking lords, the incidence of robberies significantly decreased. In 1915, there were 140 robberies, which fell to seven in 1916.Footnote ⁹⁵ The government implemented a strict surveillance system that restricted the nobles from having contact with the lower classes and created a new noble class that the government could control, such as making a new sub-district with a new head. Gradually, the Dutch colonial government was successfully implemented, utilizing a network of local administrators to extend its influence even to the most remote towns and villages in small areas.Footnote ⁹⁶

The arrest of high-ranking nobles led to a significant disruption in patron-client relationships between the karaengs and their followers, resulting in a shift in power dynamics within the community. Peasants, deprived of their patron, sought solutions to free themselves from taxes. The phenomenon that emerged later was prophecies about a saviour who would come to free the people from suffering and overthrow Dutch rule. These prophecies were accompanied by the sale of immunity charms to avoid paying taxes. The colonial political reports mention the widespread sale of amulets and the trend of seeking magical power that can provide supernatural powers and immunity. Many sought guidance from a shaman who promised supernatural powers, enabling them to evade taxes and avoid mandatory work, showcasing the significant influence of these spiritual leaders in shaping beliefs and actions within the community. In Polombangkeng, Baso Uta Esa, also known as Baso Daeng Magassing, appeared, claiming to embody Karaeng Data and foretelling the granting of power and supernatural abilities to thwart the Dutch. He also sold magical amulets.Footnote ⁹⁷

According to Kartodirdjo,Footnote ⁹⁸ this kind of messianic phenomenon is known as Ratu Adil (queen of justice), a figure who is imagined coming to bring freedom and abundant prosperity. The economic condition worsened in the 1930s as the price of rice plummeted due to the world economic crisis, significantly impairing peasants’ capacity to pay taxes and leading to heightened financial distress among agricultural communities.Footnote ⁹⁹ Interestingly, the narrative of this phenomenon revolved around the promise of magical amulets to exempt peasants from taxes, reflecting a more profound aspiration within the community. Those who claimed to be incarnations of Karaeng Data, Batara Gowa, or admired figures were from the past. Generally, they were peasants who seemingly endured their struggle and claimed to be the incarnation of Karaeng Data. This phenomenon could be attributed to several interrelated factors, including economic pressures, high taxes, the lack of desired leadership qualities among peasants, and the weakening of the high nobility due to colonial policies. These elements collectively led to the gradual breakdown of customer-customer relationships and the emergence of alternative leadership personalities. The peasants lost their patronage and created an imaginative leader from the past.