Yogyakarta — The Master’s Program in Literary Studies at the Faculty of Cultural Sciences, Universitas Gadjah Mada (UGM), held the 2026 Literary Camp with Nature at Pondok A. Salam, Kalimasada, from August 14 to 15. Conceived as a community-oriented and collaborative initiative, the camp brought together writers and literary enthusiasts in an informal setting while inviting them to reflect on what literature means—and what it can do—in everyday life.
The camp was intentionally modest and non-commercial. For Prof. Dr. Aprinus Salam, M.Hum., Head of UGM’s Master’s Program in Literary Studies and one of the event’s facilitators, this simplicity was part of the point. At its heart, he argues, literature should help people remain independent and hold on to their sense of humanity.
“What matters in literature, including an event like this Literary Camp, is the effort to preserve independence and uphold our character. And perhaps the chances of failing are greater.”
For Aprinus, independence is never easy to maintain. Throughout its history, literature has often occupied a distinctive position in relation to political and economic power, as well as to social and cultural structures built on hierarchy and inequality.
Literature, he suggests, has a critical responsibility: to examine the world we inhabit and distinguish what has been compromised from what remains worth defending.
“Ethically and aesthetically, literature is a continuing effort to discern what in life has been corrupted and what ought to be defended.”
This perspective helps explain the spirit behind the Literary Camp. It was not conceived as a commercial event, nor as a gathering defined by elaborate facilities. Instead, it sought to create a space where people could meet, exchange ideas, and reconnect through literature.
Aprinus acknowledges that maintaining independence is a difficult undertaking and that failure is always a real possibility. Independent initiatives, he observes, are becoming increasingly difficult to sustain, particularly in a society where many people live under significant constraints and have had few opportunities to cultivate self-reliance.
For him, however, literature’s concern with independence goes hand in hand with something deeper: preserving the human capacity for empathy, integrity, and conscience.
“Historically, literature has also been a space for reaffirming our essential humanity. It is a space where we struggle to preserve what is genuine in being human. Literature is one way of keeping our conscience alive.”
Participants in the 2026 Literary Camp were selected through a literary curation process. Applicants were asked to submit either at least one short story or five poems. Around 40 percent of the submissions—roughly 40 participants—were ultimately selected.
Their works will be compiled into an anthology of short stories and poetry. Initially, the anthology will be produced as a photocopied edition according to the number of copies needed. If the collection proves worthy of further development, the organizers plan to pursue an ISBN for a subsequent edition.
In this sense, the Literary Camp was more than a gathering. It brought together several dimensions of literary life—writing, reading, curation, discussion, and exchange—within an intentionally modest setting.
The program began on Friday afternoon with the arrival of participants and the formation of groups, followed by communal prayer and a briefing. The afternoon unfolded informally, with introductions, conversations, walks, light exercise, and time spent exploring the gardens around Kalimasada. As evening fell, participants gathered to watch the sunset before beginning the main evening program.
After dinner came Literary Oration, featuring Muhammad Lutfi Dwi Kurniawan and Rini Febriani Hauri, followed by a reading of Curatorial Notes. The evening continued with a relaxed conversation with writer Mahfud Ikhwan, titled Unggunan Cerita, before moving into poetry and short-story readings.
The night eventually gave way to rest, and the program resumed on Saturday morning with dawn prayers, a morning walk, coffee and tea, breakfast, a group photograph, and preparations for departure.
For Aprinus, the significance of the camp lies partly in its brevity. The event lasted only about 18 hours, but even such a short encounter can offer a temporary space in which participants attempt to live out the values they associate with literature.
Yet he is careful not to romanticize the experience. The real test, he suggests, begins after everyone leaves.
“The Literary Camp is one example. During those hours, it may seem that we are trying to preserve our independence and hold on to our humanity. But unfortunately, it lasts only 18 hours.”
Once the camp is over, participants return to their separate lives. The temporary community dissolves, and each person must once again negotiate the pressures of everyday existence.
“After the Literary Camp, we have to struggle on our own again—caught up in noisy political routines, anxious economic pressures, and a social and cultural routine that can become tedious.”
Seen in this light, the camp is not an escape from reality so much as a brief interruption of it. It offers participants a chance to step away from the noise, even momentarily, and to read, write, talk, listen, and reflect.
The limited facilities at Pondok A. Salam are part of that experience. The camp does not promise comfort or convenience. Participants share simple spaces, adjust to limited resources, exchange stories, and learn to take responsibility for their own needs.
That simplicity also reinforces the event’s broader ethos: literature does not necessarily require elaborate infrastructure to create meaningful encounters.
With a relatively full schedule, participants were expected to respect time and remain attentive to one another. But discipline was not meant to undermine the camp’s convivial spirit. On the contrary, the organizers hoped that the event would be a joyful occasion—a place where literature could be experienced rather than merely talked about.
Ultimately, as Aprinus Salam suggests, literature is about more than texts, literary technique, or aesthetics. It is also about the ongoing struggle to preserve something more fundamental: our independence, our humanity, and our conscience.
Author: Khotibul Umam
