Cergam: Inventing an Indonesian Identity for Comics (A Tribute to John A. Lent)

 Cergam*: Inventing an Indonesian Identity for Comics

(A Tribute to John A. Lent)

Iwan Gunawan

Association of Asian Comics Critics Asia (ACCA)

*Cergam means "illustrated story" in English

Among the many stories of Asian comics that John A. Lent helped bring to international attention, Indonesia’s offers a particularly fascinating case. While many national comic traditions developed through distinctive visual styles or narrative themes, Indonesian creators in the early 1960s attempted something more radical: they sought to create a new national identity for the medium itself.

 The story began in the years following Indonesian independence in 1945. Like many newly independent nations, Indonesia faced the challenge of defining its cultural identity after centuries of colonial rule. Debates over the nature of a future Indonesian culture intensified during the famous Cultural Polemic of the 1930s and continued into the post-independence era. By the late 1950s, President Soekarno repeatedly emphasized the need for a distinct Kepribadian Nasional (National Character), encouraging artists and intellectuals to move beyond cultural dependence on the West.

At the same time, comics were flourishing as a popular medium. Following the success of Indonesian comic publishers in Bandung during the early 1950s, artists and publishers in Medan, North Sumatra, began producing their own comics. Yet comics occupied an uneasy position within Indonesian cultural discourse. Because the medium had entered Indonesia largely through American newspaper strips and comic books, it was frequently associated with Western popular culture, capitalism, and cultural imperialism. Critics often regarded comics as trivial entertainment, unsuitable for a nation engaged in cultural nation-building.

The response from Medan’s comic artists was remarkably innovative.

In December 1961, under the leadership of the prominent artist Zam Nuldyn, a group of creators launched a magazine titled Tjergam. More importantly, they publicly proposed that the term Tjergam—an abbreviation of Tjerita-Gambar (“Picture Stories”)—should replace the foreign-derived word “comic” as the national designation for Indonesian comics. They argued that “comic” was a Western term that no longer reflected the personality of the Indonesian nation. The new term was intended not merely as a magazine title but as a contribution to Indonesia’s cultural vocabulary.

This act of renaming was deeply significant. Much like Japan’s use of the term manga, the adoption of Tjergam represented an attempt to localize not only the content of comics but also the language through which the medium was understood. The creators sought to establish comics as a legitimate expression of Indonesian culture rather than a borrowed Western form.

The movement extended beyond terminology. Throughout the period from approximately 1954 to 1966, Medan artists produced hundreds of comics that explored local folklore, regional legends, historical heroes, and national struggles. Stories such as Malin Kundang, Puteri Hijau, Kisah Gunung Toba, and numerous Malay and Batak legends appeared alongside adventure, romance, detective, and fantasy narratives. Even when borrowing narrative structures from popular international genres, creators localized settings, characters, costumes, and cultural references to align with Indonesian experiences and aspirations.

The significance of the Cergam movement lies not simply in its artistic production but in its cultural ambition. It demonstrated that comics could participate in the construction of national identity during a formative period of Indonesian history. Rather than rejecting a global medium, Medan artists transformed it into a vehicle for expressing local values, histories, and cultural imagination.

For scholars of comics history, the story of Cergam reveals how sequential art can become part of broader debates about language, identity, and nationhood. It also embodies a theme that ran throughout John Lent’s pioneering scholarship: local creators do not merely imitate global forms. They adapt, redefine, and ultimately make them their own. The Medan artists’ invention of Tjergam remains one of the most compelling examples of that creative process in Southeast Asian comics history.

Editor’s notes by CT Lim:

The question remains why comics were popular in cities like Bandung (Java) and Medan (Sumatra) in the 1950s and 1960s and not in the capital city, Jakarta. What were the factors that enabled comics to prosper in Bandung and Medan? The latter was the center of pulp publishing in Indonesia in the 1950s and 1960s. In the case of Jakarta, the capital could be too embroiled in political battles for it to be a cultural center for the arts and literature, and comics. Medan declined as a publishing hub after the 1966 coup and riots, and there was a nation-wide shortage of paper. In the 1970s, with the consolidation of Suharto’s New Order, Western investments and mass media returned to Indonesia.

There is also a need to examine John Lent’s writings about comics in Indonesia, especially cergam, and how his articles differ from earlier writings about comic strips, cartoons and comics in Indonesia, e.g. those written by Benedict Anderson.

For more on cergam in Medan, see Lintasan Cergam Medan: Catatan Seorang Kolektor (2016) by Henry Iswmono. This book is not translated into English.

Graphic novel review: Failed Notes sa Philippine Politics Vol 1

Reviewed by Karl Ian Cheng Chua, Association of Asian Comics Critics Asia (ACCA)

Anonymous. Failed Notes sa Philippine Politics Vol 1. Publisher unknown, 2026.

 Komiks as political commentary is nothing new in the Philippine scene. Historically, Alfred W. McCoy and Alfredo Roces have curated an interesting volume of 377 editorial cartoons in Philippine Cartoons: Political Caricatures of the American Era, 1900 – 1941 (1985). Outside of editorial cartoons, several artists have experimented and been successful in utilizing the same themes in komiks, such as Nonoy Marcelo’s Ikabod Bubuwit (1970s – 2002) which satirically depicted the socio-political woes for the Philippines and Filipinos by depicting the characters as rats. Pol Medina Jr. and his Pugay Baboy began in 1988 and features obese characters from a neighborhood in Manila who engage in political satire. Despite the shift towards digital media, the genre remains popular with younger artists like Kevin Eric Raymundo whose Tarantadong Kalbo is circulated in his social media for free and compiled as a printed volume. (most of these komiks are in Tagalog and only one of Raymundo’s Tarantadong Kalbo compilation is in English)  

In the last Philippine Book Festival, I chanced upon an interesting work Failed Notes sa Philippine Politics Vol.1 (hereafter referred to as FNPP). This is a compilation of 5 zines dealing with satirical portrayals of political scandals from 2024 to 2026 and written in Taglish, a mixture of Tagalog and English. The format is simple: line art, no colors and basic panels. What is important about the komik is it highlights key political scandals so that readers are able to recall recent events. FNPP no. 1 focused on the issue of Alice Guo, former Bamban, Tarlac mayor, whose Filipino identity is questioned. The zine structured the satire to make readers feel as though they are watching the TV reportage of the scandal, with absurd conversations re-lived.

FNPP no. 2 chose to focus on the impeachment hearings of Vice President Sara Duterte, featuring her misuse of confidential funds. The komik reminds us of the hilarious claim that a “Mary Grace Piattos” was a recipient of confidential funds for the Office of the Vice President, considering that the name was obviously made up by combining the name of a popular restaurant and a potato chip brand.  While the main focus of FNPP no. 3 was on the West Philippine Sea issue, the komik shows that it is not biased against just the present administration but also criticized Senator Bam Aquino for practicing Realpolitik by initially declaring himself independent - instead of being part of the opposition - so that he would be given a senate portfolio.  FNPP no. 4 hilariously mocked Harry Roque, the former Presidential Spokesperson of President Duterte. While seeking asylum in the Netherlands, Roque came into conflict with a supporter over his consumption of humba (a braised pork dish) before anyone else had eaten.  FNPP no. 5 ends the compilation by dealing with the updates on the ongoing investigations regarding the flood control scandals. 

What is important with FNPP is that it engages with contemporary political scandals in the Philippines.  The satire made readers remember and feel the event, and the quips felt like we were exactly saying these in response with our exasperation to the absurdity of the events. Furthermore, the volume acts as a physical historical record that chronicled the events as well as the perceived responses by the populace, and hence will function like McCoy and Roces’ work to keep a visual and comical record of our past.

Karl Ian Cheng Chua is Assistant Professor at the Asian Centre, University of the Philippines Diliman, and a member of Association of Asian Comics Critics Asia (ACCA)

Graphic novel recommendation: What Will Be, Will Be by Lê Phan

A recommendation by Quynh Than, Association of Asian Comics Critics Asia (ACCA)

Phan, Lê. What will be, will be. Ho Chi Minh City,  Vietnam: Du But Books, 2025.

Quynh Than is the co-founder and editor of Du But Books in Ho Chi Minh City and the publisher of this book.

 What will be, will be is a graphic memoir by Vietnamese comic artist Lê Phan. At 176 pages, divided into eight chapters, the book follows his journey from a child first discovering what it means to be an artist, to an adult navigating the uncertainties, disappointments, and hard-won lessons of a creative life. Each chapter is inspired by a well-known song and marks a different emotional stage in his path toward becoming a professional comic artist.

 For readers unfamiliar with Lê Phan, he is one of the most distinctive voices in contemporary Vietnamese comics. In a local comics scene often shaped by manga-influenced aesthetics, he has long pursued a different visual and narrative path. That difference may have placed him somewhat outside the mainstream at times, but it has also allowed him to build a loyal readership entirely on his own terms. What makes his body of work especially compelling is his refusal to stay still. From mystery and dystopian storytelling to travel writing, childhood memory, and comic strips about life, love, and the strange comedy of being human, each of his books feels like a reinvention. It is almost as if every new project tries to undo the image created by the previous one. In What will be, will be, that process leads him to his most personal form yet: a storyteller willing to turn fully toward himself.

 In terms of plot, What will be, will be does not rely on dramatic twists. Instead, it draws readers in through the truthful rhythm of a life shaped by art. The first half carries the lightness of childhood: mischief, wonder, and the first sparks of obsession with drawing. The second half moves into more difficult territory, as dreams collide with reality and artistic passion is tested by confusion, failure, loneliness, and emotional exhaustion. What emerges is not simply the story of one cartoonist’s career, but the story of someone learning, repeatedly, how to lose himself and find his way back.

What makes the book especially interesting is that it works on several levels at once. It is an autobiography, certainly, but also a meditation on what it means to choose a creative life when it is a choice that rarely stable or well understood. At the same time, it serves as an informal cultural record of a generation of Vietnamese artists who grew up with manga, copied comics by hand, made homemade books, and searched for creative communities through magazines, forums, and small circles of fellow enthusiasts. In that sense, the book is both deeply personal and historical.

 Another strength lies in the contrast between style and subject. Lê Phan uses a simple, light, sometimes almost childlike drawing style to tell a story filled with self-doubt, reflection, hurt, and healing. The effect is powerful. The softness of the artwork makes the emotional honesty of the book hit even harder, without ever becoming melodramatic. Comics here are not just a delivery system for memoir, but the most natural language for memory itself: elastic, playful, fragmented, and emotionally precise.

 This is a book that deserves to be read because it is sincere without asking for pity, and thoughtful without ever becoming heavy-handed. For readers interested in comics, it widens the horizon of what Vietnamese comics can hold. For artists and aspiring creators, it offers not instruction so much as companionship and reassurance that doubt, detours, and even brokenness can become part of one’s language. What will be, will be is a gentle reminder that becoming oneself is rarely a straight road. Sometimes we must lose our way before we can recognize the shape of our own heart. Sometimes we must - as Phan wrote in the book - "gather our scattered pieces, one by one, and trust that they still belong to us". Lê Phan tells that journey with tenderness, humility, and grace, and proves that even the most uncertain path can, in time, lead us back to who we are.

Images from the book can be seen in the review at https://vietcetera.com/vn/gui-nhung-trai-tim-can-dam-dang-theo-duoi-dam-me

Comic book review: Singapore Lords of Veracity by Ye Zhen

cover to #13 on Webtoons

 reviewed by CT Lim, Association of Asian Comics Critics Asia (ACCA)

Zhen, Ye. Singapore Lords of Veracity (Book 14 of the Singapore Hip-Hop Horror comics series). Self-published.

Ye Zhen’s Singapore Hip-Hop Horror is the second longest running comics series in Singapore. The longest is Wee Tian Beng’s The Celestial Zone which started in 1999. The “Mr Kiasu” book series by Johnny Lau and friends was started in the early 1990s, but it had a long hiatus in between books. So Ye Zhen’s comics holds the record for being the second longest running comics series in Singapore. His is different from the others because Singapore Hip-Hop Horror is self-published and self-distributed by Ye Zhen himself. This makes him unique in Singapore comics. He is truly indie.

In essence, the series is about the protagonists Skateboard P and Snoop Eastwood (it is hard to call them heroes) fighting aliens and beings from alternate realities. It is not clear why they are fighting so hard, but my reading is that the continuous battles are fights to preserve the indie way of life in Singapore. You can have a name like Skateboard P or Snoop Eastwood and look nothing like any 'normal' Singaporeans, but you still deserve your place in the sun on this island city. The mainstream need not prevail, and we can be who we want to be.

Books 1 to 3 were published in 2007 and launched at the Singapore comic con. I remember seeing a nerdy guy wearing a cap and glasses hawking his books hesitantly with his mother. I was wondering where this guy came from – he was releasing three books all at once! Later he revealed that book 1 was drawn in 2004 when he was studying comics at the Savannah College of Art and Design.

Over the years, I have gotten to know Ye Zhen and reviewed his books.[i] In 2018, I interviewed Ye Zhen for Ben Katchor’s Comics and Picture-Book Symposium over Skype.[ii] In 2019, I curated a small exhibition of Ye Zhen’s original comic art. I liken his work to be like outsider art. His efforts of doing it alone and doing it his own way reminds me of Jack Katz’s The First Kingdom.

In this new book, Ye Zhen continues the non-stop battles between Skateboard P and Melissa Preta, and between Snoop Eastwood and Lady Impervious. The action scenes are good and Ye Zhen is experimenting with different sound effects to make them look more dynamic. Like the previous books, the dialogue is peppered with what I call Ye Zhen-isms, which express his views about Singapore and the world:

• Peace just stagnates progress.
  
• Son, I couldn’t do a more poignant declaration of war than that.
• My young lass, in order to get stronger one must risk one’s own life. P chose this voluntarily. I CAN’T stop their fight.
• This will, in short, save your lover’s bacon. If you catch my drift. Hehe.
• I don’t know how I did it. But I’m not one to question heaven’s will.
• P’s girlfriend: There’s more to life than endless fighting P. Just don’t get yourself killed…
• P: Your caresses are all I live for …
• Needless to say, my triggered emotional states further boosted my power. Whether I liked to fight or not was another question entirely.

VROOOOM!

Ye Zhen can do comics fulltime because he does not have to work, although he does some basketball coaching occasionally. He spends most of his time playing basketball. Maybe his life is like the manga, Slam Dunk - if only we can be so lucky. I await eagerly his next book.

Some of Ye Zhen’s comics are free to read on Webtoons at https://www.webtoons.com/p/community/en/u/n9o1n. A short documentary about Ye Zhen by his wife, Atman Lim was made in 2019 and is online at https://atmanlim.com/documentary

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[i]https://singaporecomix.blogspot.com/2017/09/ye-zhens-singapore-pok-kai-zai.html

https://singaporecomix.blogspot.com/2024/07/review-singapore-hip-hop-horror-book-13.html

https://singaporecomix.blogspot.com/2024/07/singapore-hip-hop-horror-book-13.html

https://sgcartoonhub.com/interview-ye-zhen/

[ii] https://nycomicssymposium.wordpress.com/2018/04/04/lim-cheng-tju-ye-zhen-april-10-2018-at-7pm/