Articles - Inside Indonesia: The peoples and cultures of Indonesia

Moral crisis and the political party

Indonesian politics is in a severe state of moral crisis, says academic Arbi Sanit. A renewed role for political parties is the answer. INSIDE INDONESIA spoke with him by telephone. You have long been known in Indonesia for your concern about democratisation. You often speak about the need to revitalise the political parties. Why should parties be so important? Isn't it possible to be democratic without parties? We have to make the distinction between the state and society. Political parties are formed by society. They have to represent the interests and values of society within national political life. Without parties it is difficult to defend the interests of society. However, if the bureaucracy or the military take over the parties, naturally they will side much more with the state. They will find it difficult to be objective about society. Our experience bears this out. The military always say they have an intimate relationship with the people, 'like a fish in water'. But it is very rare for the military to defend the interests of Indonesian society. For example in the recent land conflicts in East Java, the military tended to side with the government, or even with big business, and not with the little people. When I did research in East Java last year I found that people thought of the government and the military as the other side, no longer a side that defends their interests. That is why there is this hope in political parties. But many people think parties will cause instability. Of course that has happened in the past. But now we can look at Golkar as a political party and see that it has become a stabilising factor. Possibly Golkar's methods do not wholly take the form of peoples' power. Rather, Golkar resembles popular force that has been coopted by the government through the military and the bureaucracy. So would you include Golkar as a genuine political party? And the PPP and PDI? Yes they are. I'm not speaking as a politician here, but as an observer. A political party is a social organisation whose task is to represent the interests of society within political life. Do you feel these existing parties are capable of doing that? At the moment, no. But one day when the military have handed over power to Golkar... However, that requires a lot of preparation. The parties need to do a complete internal overhaul. They have an enormous problem with leadership. They have very little of it, because all the sources of leadership have been bureaucratised. All the sources of informal leadership within Indonesian society in recent years have been domesticated. They have been forced by the government to become a part of the power structure. That is why PPP and PDI have so much difficulty demonstrating leadership. But the potential is still there and getting bigger. The middle classes are growing and becoming a new source of leadership in Indonesia today. The question remains how PPP and PDI are going to make a more directed programme. And the government must also show an openness so it does not monopolise these sources of leadership. Arbi Sanit teaches politics at Jakarta's distinguished University of Indonesia. He recently agreed to become an advisor to KIPP, the Independent Election Monitoring Committee chaired by Goenawan Mohamad. KIPP is inspired by election watchdogs in other countries - such as Pollwatch of Thailand and Namfrell of the Philippines. It is finding widespread popular support, particularly among students. However, after initially prevaricating, the government has condemned it. A number of pro-government organisations to oppose KIPP have appeared, and some KIPP supporters have experienced violence. When, last March, you made yourself available to the advisory board of KIPP, you said: 'This is the right moment.' What is so special about this moment? There is a moral crisis in Indonesian politics today. It is now reaching its peak. The crisis can be seen in various types of corruption. The report from Hong Kong ranking Indonesia as the third most corrupt in Asia only looked at a portion of the evidence, namely that government officials demand money from people in business. In reality there are other forms - such as officials taking money from the state. Secretary of State Mr Murdiono says this is only about Rp 2 billion (AU$ 1 million). A much more common form of corruption again is political corruption, intimidation. It is done quietly. People are too afraid to speak about it. But it is very common. The newspapers suffer from it. Political activists suffer from it. Those who have been detained speak about how strong this intimidation is - as far as holding a pistol to the head. I have heard this from them directly. Collusion between officials and business is also very common. For example the scandal at the High Court right now (in which High Court judge Adi Andojo Soetjipto accuses his fellow judges of corruption). And it is not limited to the High Court. The entire bureaucracy is guilty of it. Another example is the Timor motor car (in which Tommy Suharto obtained special tax breaks for a Korean car he wants to build). That is collusion too. All this is amoral behaviour in politics. It is not rational. All of it conflicts with political morality. So it is not the 1997 elections that makes this moment special, but the moral crisis of which you speak? Yes, it is this crisis, not the elections. The important thing is that we come to these elections in a state of high moral crisis. So when they came along and asked me to join KIPP, I didn't hesitate to join them. Some people speak sceptically about the morality in politics KIPP promotes. Armed Forces Commander Gen. Feisal Tanjung said radical groups veil themselves in 'moralistic-utopian' clothes. Academic Affan Gafar said the 'moralist' groups are led by people who once enjoyed the privileges of the New Order (a reference to Goenawan Mohamad, former editor of the banned magazine Tempo). What really is the role of morality in politics? Ideally, morality ought to be in balance with interests. I think our behaviour is determined by two sources - firstly by values, secondly by interests. Interests have to do with things like position and material riches. Values are connected with morality, with ideals, legitimation, and these more noble things. For the last 30 years of Indonesia's New Order we have neglected moral factors. Indonesian politics are so pragmatic. They have become secular. Values and ideology have been neglected in political life. Our political life has been dominated by pragmatism, by the economy, while other things have been put in second place. Society feels badly done by in this imbalance between interests and moral values. I think society is aware of this disparity and is starting to move, starting to rise up. People want to restore political values. Political behaviour must take more account of the values that live in society. KIPP is a movement based on morality, but one that has political implications, even though it does not intend to gain power. It wants to colour power with morality. That is why KIPP is more a moralistic movement. You once said 2003 will be the year when a big effort should be made to return power to the parties. Why did you name this year? I said that because it is so closely related to the succession. The presidential succession is highly dependent on the health of the president. Till 2003 is the maximum that the president can still function well and remain healthy. If he is not healthy, a succession will take place. In the scenario we foresee from here, there is a tendency to think the succession will not go smoothly. Till now there is no sign that a successor is being groomed as happened in Singapore for example. So it looks as if there will be a conflict between the leaders at the moment of succession. In that conflict there are two possibilities. One is that it will be violent. This could happen if the competing forces are not equal. The stronger acts harshly against the weaker side, and this will result in a system that, if possible, is even more authoritarian than the one we have now. However, this possibility is not very great. Because the international situation, economic competitiveness, national security, political stability, relations with ASEAN - all these things will be disturbed if there is political violence as a result of such competition. Instead, I tend to think the conflict will take place among forces that are more evenly balanced. In this situation of balance, there is an opportunity for the people to participate. Each of the competing forces will seek popular support. They will avoid bloodshed and fighting. If one side does begin to use violence, the other will also use violence and, since they are equal in strength, the result would be general destruction. No, they would rather cooperate. This cooperation, if it takes place in 2003, will make the parties a very important arena - whether it be Golkar, PDI or PPP. Of course on one condition. They must undergo a more rapid transition, to catch the ongoing political trends. They must be able to attract the rising forces in society and allow them to play a bigger role. Arbi Sanit has taught at UI since 1969. He is 57 and comes from West Sumatra. His comments on political developments are often sought by the Indonesian media. Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996

Beaches and broken bones

An exploding tourist industry on Lombok's beaches breaks the lives of villagers. IRIP NEWS SERVICE reports. In the pre-dawn of March 5th 1996 some 24 truckloads of police and troops descended on the small farming village of Rowok near the south coast of Lombok. When they had finished their work all the houses and other buildings in the village had been destroyed. Most of its inhabitants were trucked away to their 'traditional' villages nearby. Over the next week or so all their possessions were confiscated or stolen by the government and its agents. Rowok's more than 300 people are now refugees in their own country. Some are sheltering in the provincial capital Mataram. All are dependent on charity for their existence. They told the author all they have left is the clothes they were wearing when the troops arrived. Court order At midnight on March 4th their time had expired. Their eviction was based on a court order obtained by the regency (kabupaten). This was the end of one phase of a struggle to resist eviction that had been running since 1994. During the forcible eviction, more than 36 villagers were seriously injured by the police and soldiers. Several had multiple fractures of major bones. Many had visible scalp wounds and other injuries. In March and April there were protests by university students in Lombok and Bali, and the national government began an 'unofficial' investigation into the events leading up to the morning of March 5th. Speculator The farming people of Rowok were evicted because they refused to vacate their land and accept the low payments offered by the speculator/ developer PT Sinar Rowok Indah. In contrast, government employees in the village were paid close to market prices for their land. Since 1994, assisted by a small group of local lawyers, the Rowok farmers have used the limited legal means available to defend their right to the land or, if forced to leave, adequate payment. Complicating the issue is the land titling system of Indonesia. The people of Rowok do not have formal title to their land, even though the National Land Agency (BPN) surveyed it in 1990 so titles could be issued. This makes it unclear whether they can sell (if they have title) or only receive compensation (if the land still formally belongs to the state). If they own the land then the developer has to negotiate a price directly with them. Such negotiations have as yet not been started, let alone completed. Machinations The two main shareholders in PT Sinar Rowok Indah are Franky Lesmana (one of President Suharto's relatives, with 60%) and Andri Setiawan (son of Governor Warsito of West Nusa Tenggara, with 10%). There are four others. Space forbids a detailed explanation of the machinations used by PT Rowok to acquire the land at the lowest possible cost, and to ensure the inhabitants were evicted with the least possible fuss. According to local legal experts, these machinations were facilitated by government officials. Suffice it to note that, given the company's connections, many forms of technical, administrative and legal assistance were forthcoming from all levels of the civil and military structure in Lombok. Sasak Lombok is slated for rapid tourism development. Rowok may be among the first of many similar clashes between Sasak farming communities and tourist development speculators. Few Sasak speak Indonesian or have completed primary school, while the speculators are backed by the full force of the judiciary, police and military. Many of the speculators are connected to the presidential family or to other senior government officials. Hence the process leading to eviction usually occurs outside the law, and protests and investigations are stifled. What may surprise some readers is that so many people - whose duty as government employees is to improve local welfare - would cooperate over such an extended period (1990-96) to help an 'outside' company defraud local people. It demonstrates how the current regime furthers its own economic interests - which might be seen as long-term planning to further defraud the already poor. Land for free In Indonesia, if you have the right connections and sufficient money (they often go together) you can acquire land for free - well, at least at bargain basement prices - in a nation where land prices are higher in absolute terms than in Australia. How is this possible? All you need is an 'izin lokasi' or 'izin prinsip' (a location permit or 'in principle' approval). This gives you the sole right to purchase land within a designated area. The current inhabitants have little if any chance to challenge what is planned, or receive fair compensation or assistance in relocation. The process is made more invidious as the izin may be issued secretly by the local office of BPN. Furthermore, third parties are often used to covertly purchase land cheaply before local people become aware of what is occurring. This is exactly what happened at Rowok. When in addition the local government designates an area for 'development' - shopping malls, factories, high rise apartments, roads or tourism - these izin become an unstoppable force. All the more so as opposing 'development' in Indonesia is regarded as subversive, and too often attracts heavy prison sentences. Lombok's Kuta Among these izin lokasi in Lombok, the largest are found in Tourist Development Areas (TDA) just east of Rowok. The area centres on the coastal village of Kuta (not to be confused with the Kuta in Bali!). With its beautiful bays and white coral beaches, this area has slowly developed basic accommodation and tourist facilities over the last 20 years. One developer, Lombok Tourist Development Company (LTDC), has been given an izin lokasi covering 1,250 ha. This takes in some five bays and the hills behind them. Originally they only had about 650 ha, but this was increased in May 1995. Currently, LTDC is trying to get rid of the local people, who make a living from farming, fishing and low-cost tourism. Unsurprisingly, they are unwilling to move. The prices being offered for their land are far too low, and they want access to the economic opportunities they hope tourism will bring. LTDC's aim seems to be to on-sell the land to hotel developers at much higher prices than they paid. Along the way they may get some shares (say 10-15%) in the joint venture to build the resort. Pressure To minimise its costs, LTDC is pressuring the provincial government to pay for the major investments in water supply, roads and electricity that construction of some 18 hotels, facilities and associated golf courses will require. If they can do this they will get a much higher price for the land without having to invest any additional funds of their own. Naturally this means much higher profits. Local officials are trying to resist this pressure. The government would have to borrow money with no clear means of repaying it. But they are faced with an almost insurmountable problem: LTDC is 60% owned by PT Bimantara, which is owned by Bambang Suharto. Clearly this family connection makes things very easy for LTDC... and very difficult for local people. The next Bali? Rowok is not the first. Many similar expropriations occur throughout Indonesia in the name of 'development' - especially urban and tourist development. In 1994 there were protests as the inhabitants and visitors on Gili Trawangan island - off northwest Lombok - were violently evicted by government forces. Here too, a well-connected 'outsider' used their position to dispossess locals who had opened low-cost tourist facilities. The developer aimed to replace low-cost tourism on Gili Trawangan (with a capacity in the hundreds) with high-cost four and five star tourist hotels capable of accommodating thousands. Recently, negotiations between the local people and the government resulted in the locals being paid fairly substantial compensation. The government has designated nine TDA on Lombok. Six of these are on the coast, and each covers tens of square kilometres. In Bali TDA are clearly defined according to administrative area. But the TDA on Lombok only exist as circles on a map, centred on a town. Each takes in a number of rural communities (see map). Within each area 'tourism is king'. Developers are assisted in acquiring land. The government will make an extra effort to provide the needed roads, water, communication and electricity supply. Experience in Bali and Lombok shows the government does little to ensure local people will benefit directly, e.g. by helping them start new businesses or equipping them for jobs in tourism. Nor does it protect the environment. Bays and reefs In comparison with Bali, most of Lombok's inland landscapes are fairly mundane. But its southern and southwestern coastlines are extra-ordinarily beautiful. These are the areas designated for tourist development. The southern coast is made up of deep bays, flanked by coral reefs. The bays open onto coastal valleys, backed by a landscape of rolling green hills. The southwestern coast too has white beaches and coral reefs - but the range is more limited and less spectacular. These beautiful landscapes are not unoccupied. On the southern coasts the area was opened for dryland farming over the last 30 years. These families' houses and livelihoods are now threatened by tourist development. On the southwestern coast it is mainly poor fishing families that will be forced back from the coastline for tourism. Inland from the south coast, hundreds of families are being evicted from 800 ha of farming land for a new international airport. Planned to become operational in 2004, the airport is being built explicitly to facilitate access to new tourist resorts. More to come An indication of the scale of the potential problem on Lombok is that lawyers and local people were able to identify from memory another 15 locations where land disputes related to tourist development are in the making. They cover approximately 3,900 ha, and some 4,500 families (about 25,000 people) live and make a living in them. These figures cover parts of south, southwest and southeast Lombok, but do not include communities within TDA in the east, north and northeast. For many of these people, repetitions of the violence seen in Rowok, as well as wholly inadequate compensation to replace the land and possessions they lose, are a distinct possibility. Unlike Bali, where there was an 'organic' and gradual expansion of tourism in the 1970s and 1980s, the growth of tourism in Lombok is likely to be explosive and mostly controlled by large Jakarta-based corporations acting in concert with global hotel chains. Thus, what is happening in Rowok is probably the beginning of a long and painful process for the farmers and fisherfolk who occupy land the bureaucracy and its elite clients have decided to turn into tourist enclaves. Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996

Inside 'Inside'

PAT WALSH edited Inside Indonesia from 1985 until he stepped back earlier this year. Why did he produce it in his living room? And why did some think the magazine was backed by the Australian Labor Party? Pat, Inside Indonesia has been going for nearly 13 years, and you have been involved with it much of that time. Your beard was longer then we know. Can we ask you to stroke that beard now and reminisce? What was it like those first years? What did you have in mind? How did you do it? Pat Walsh: We started planning an information service on Indonesia in 1982. The idea was simple and obvious. Australia was home to world-class experts on Indonesia and Canberra was pushing the relationship. But in people-to-people terms Indonesia was a non-issue here. An activist black-hole! An information vacuum! No union links, nothing to speak of on the environmental, student, human rights etc front. There were isolated exceptions - a couple of churches, Amnesty International, some development NGOs and the efforts of people like Ian Bell, Chris Carolan and others. But nothing at the community level to match the work being done, for example, on East Timor and the Philippines. Incredible really given our proximity and proud support for Indonesian independence in the 1940s. The main reason for this gap, of course, was the decimation of the left and associated links after 1965. There were also language barriers and general perceptions that 'nothing was happening' in Indonesia and that it was an incredibly inaccessible, esoteric place. Maybe, too, concerned Indonesians didn't think we had much to offer and were not looking to Australians. So our dream was to contribute to a reconstruction of the relationship and to provide a corrective to the pragmatic Canberra line which promoted a sans warts view of Indonesia (although Inside Indonesia probably over- emphasised the warts early on). We also wanted to show that Indonesia is more than Suharto and the military and is in fact a modern, interesting, dynamic, accessible society with people working for all kinds of change. As some of us were also deeply involved with East Timor, another part of our thinking was to educate East Timor activists about Indonesia because it seemed to us the futures of the two societies are intimately linked. We have not been particularly successful here. Many concerned about East Timor have little interest in or knowledge of Indonesia. In fact what they know of East Timor turns them off Indonesia. The reverse is also true! With only a few notable exceptions, many who are professionally concerned with Indonesia take no interest in East Timor either. To get things rolling we held consultations over several months with people like Herb Feith, Bill Armstrong, Harry Martin, Chris Dureau, Harry Bocquet (from the Waterside Workers), Neva Finch, Gin Siauw, Unggi Sumardjo, Ian Bell, Jim and Barbara Schiller, Di McDonald and others from development agencies, unions and academia. We wanted to build a base of support and to hone our ideas. We decided to establish the Indonesia Resources and Indonesia Program (IRIP), then polled our groups for a title for the magazine, our new baby. Inside Indonesia was chosen. I also liked Indofile, as a neat play on words. A tongue in cheek one I recall was In-digest! These were exciting moments. Our first effort, in fact, was to produce a series of 2-page punchy Information Releases but these were then subsumed by the magazine. Who worked with you on the magazine initially? What was their background? Three of us took responsibility: John Waddingham, Max Lane and myself. Each of us had experience in publishing and were determined not just to produce another amateur, short-run newsletter. John was publishing Timor Information Service, Max had cut his ties with the Australian Government after being removed from the embassy in Jakarta for translating Pramoedya's works, and I was working as a consultant on East Timor to the Australian Council for Overseas Aid (ACFOA). Because we had virtually no money, we tried to do our own layout using Monash University student facilities. It didn't work! So we took the plunge and hired a professional, Rus Littleson, to design our masthead and internal layout, and had the copy professionally typeset. The first issue came out in November 1983 and we had a celebratory launch at the Arjuna Restaurant in Prahran on 10 November. Max Lane was its editor (we even paid Max but this soon had to stop due to funding problems); John and I did the rest. Benny Murdani was on the front cover. It was a bold break with normal practice and a small miracle that we got it off the ground. Some magazine founders mortgage their homes. We depended on subscriptions, sweat, small grants from a couple of agencies, and the generosity of writers who were prepared then, and still are, to contribute copy gratis. We owe these writers a tremendous debt as we do many who freely helped with administration, mailouts etc. Wonderful people like Neva Finch, Ann Ng, Helen Vaughan, and my wife Annie Keogh. By 1985, the editing shifted to Melbourne and me, because Max was working in Canberra and John took up a parliamentary research job in Perth. The grants came mainly from Community Aid Abroad, Freedom from Hunger and Asia Partnership for Human Development in Hong Kong. You were always modest about your involvement. Was it just modesty and the collegial style that others appreciate so much in you, or was there another reason? This interview is something of a coming out, isn't it! I think I'm low-key by disposition and I don't have the Indonesian credentials of a Max Lane. My contribution was more as a manager and as someone respected for a commitment to human rights. Not that I am untutored in the ways of Indonesia. I'm proud I was a pioneer of Bahasa Indonesia teaching in Victoria, starting in 1967. And I have been closely involved with others in initiating some good Indonesia- related projects through the development agencies since then. The other reason for leading from behind was that since 1985 I have been director of ACFOA's human rights office. It was not always appropriate for me to be publicly identified with Inside Indonesia while representing ACFOA in the sensitive area of human rights. Not that ACFOA opposed my involvement. In fact, the IRIP project was in part a response to a 1982 ACFOA decision to explore ways of developing better NGO relations with Indonesia and the then ACFOA chairman, Richard Alston, now Minister for Communications, took part in our early consultations. As a shoestring operation there must have been some funny moments. What was your most memorable experience? The wackiest thing I can recall was being told once that, because the magazine looked so up-market, some Indonesians thought we were funded by the Australian Labor Party. The ALP would die at the thought of being associated with Inside Indonesia. Can you imagine Gareth Evans telling Ali Alatas that he should be reading Inside (as our Indonesian friends like to call the magazine)! The reality was that we were poorer than many of the Indonesian NGOs we were reporting on. Deliveries in Indonesia are sometimes intercepted for funny reasons. Once the post office in Surabaya banned an issue as 'immoral' because it included a strongly worded poem about male harassment of women. On another occasion a monastery in Java cancelled their subscription in case it compounded their problems with the authorities. They had been the subject of official enquiries after it became known that someone had donated them a set of the Great Books of the Western World that included Das Kapital! I also recall getting ticked off by a rather snooty librarian somewhere in the UK for mistakenly using a line drawing of a scene in Nigeria to illustrate an Indonesian street scene. She cancelled her sub in protest at our lack of professionalism! As your human rights work demands more and more time, you are gradually withdrawing from the magazine. If you had a crystal ball and clicked on Inside Indonesia for the year 2000, what would you want it to look like? You are right, my human rights agenda is increasingly demanding. But I am stepping back from Inside so that new people can have a go, rather than dropping out. Talking about the future, I would say a principal concern for us is to make sure, while being careful not to weaken our human rights perspective, that we report Indonesia objectively rather than ideologically. A vital part of that is to go on building strong links there. Another issue we still have to resolve is the tension between good research and good journalism, without sacrificing either. The rise of the computer is another issue. Electronic communication is a window of opportunity for our work. But it also presents significant challenges to a print journal which cannot match the rapidity, cost, volume or interactive capacity of the computer. Annie and I would also like to see the Inside office moved from our front living room by 2000! Looking after the really terrific people who are the life of Inside - the writers, admin people, the Board, people who help with mailouts, and so on - is also vital. Without them we are dead! Last, but not least, I have an ambition to show a picture of President Suharto reading Inside Indonesia on our much appreciated back cover. This would be the ultimate PR coup. It would also mean he's changed his ways and we can do something else! Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996

The OPM in Indonesia

John R. G. Djopari, Pemberontakan Organisasi Papua Merdeka (Revolt of the OPM), Jakarta: Gramedia, 1993. 180pp. RRP: Rp 7,000 (approx. AU$4.00 in Indonesian bookstores). Maj.-Gen. Samsudin, Pergolakan di Perbatasan - operasi pembebasan sandera tanpa pertumpahan darah (Border Troubles - bloodless operations to free hostages), Jakarta: Gramedia, 1995, 463 pp. RRP: Rp 15,000 (AU$8.50). Reviewed by Gerry van Klinken After four and half months, the hostage crisis in Irian Jaya was resolved with military action. Two hostages died, as did more than two dozen combatants on both sides through accidents or battle. It is important to grasp the longevity of the political problems in the territory, which cry out for fundamental change. These two timely books, in their own way, do something to make us think there are Indonesians who realise this. Samsudin's book is written in the genre of memoirs of heroic deeds. It recounts in detail his own role (with the rank of colonel in the Indonesian army) in resolving a series of hostage crises between 1978 and 1982. Besides illustrating that hostage-taking is almost a traditional OPM strategy, the story is remarkable because it takes pride in the fact that all the crises were resolved without shedding blood (except for the death of a helicopter crew in a crash). The five different events ranged from the taking of the Abepura Military Region Commander to the taking of a large group of junior government officials and local workers. Some took as long as 8 months to resolve, by means of trusted civilian mediators. There are many fascinating photos. OPM Djopari's book is thinner, yet more substantial. It is only the second full study on the OPM to appear in Indonesia. The first was done by Nazaruddin Sjamsuddin, who also supervised this one. Djopari comes from Irian Jaya and teaches at the Interior Ministry's Institute of Government Studies. He travelled widely for this study and is remarkably open about his observations. Both revolt and collaboration have always been matters for a small elite in West Papua. The Dutch who ruled the territory till 1962 recognised this, and so did the Indonesians. However, Indonesia's misfortune was that its economy was in such a shambles in 1962 that it could offer the Papuan elite nothing. The Dutch had poured money into the territory in the late 'fifties and early 'sixties, making the Papuan elite feel, Djopari says, 'as if they were not being colonised'. In stark contrast, Indonesians stripped the place bare, even taking to Java the aircraft steps from the Biak International Airport. Attempts to socialise the notion of Indonesian-ness failed dismally, Djopari notes, because the standard line that Dutch colonialism impoverishes the people just did not ring true. Crude In the absence of a soft pillow for the elite, the government resorted to crude intimidation by Ali Moertopo's Special Operations (Opsus). In the process it created a unity in dissent that may never have existed before. As so often, the coloniser provided a vocabulary for the colonised. The name Organisasi Papua Merdeka (OPM, Free Papua Organisation) was first coined by the Indonesian military. In reality, Djopari says, the OPM is 'not a single organisation for the liberation of Irian Jaya, but an umbrella for a whole range of resistance organisations both in Irian Jaya and overseas'. Some will question the methods of this study - it is functionalist and thus uses too much communications theory and not enough economics. But it contains much valuable data, and deserves to be more widely quoted in Indonesia today. Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996

Defending the victims of mining

Locals get a nasty surprise when they see what modern mining does to their land. JEFF ATKINSON attended a conference about it. In December last year, environmental activists from all over Indonesia gathered in Banjarmasin, South Kalimantan, to discuss how to combat the negative social and environmental impacts of mining. Indonesia is one of the most mineral rich areas on the face of the planet, and mining companies from around the world are showing an increasing interest. But increased activity is also increasing problems for communities in mining areas. No more so than around the Freeport gold and copper mine in Irian Jaya, where the conflict has led to loss of life. While Freeport represents an extreme case, conflict between mining companies and landowners is on the increase in all the mining areas of Indonesia, including Kalimantan. The first The Banjarmasin gathering was the first ever NGO advocacy and networking workshop on mining. Organised by the environmental umbrella group WALHI (Wahana Lingkungan Hidup Indonesia), it brought together more than 50 representatives from non-government organisations (NGOs) all over Indonesia. There were also several groups of affected landowners, including two people from Freeport. The workshop heard a common story from the communities, of rivers polluted by mine wastes, run-off and chemicals, of fish, crabs and aquatic life dying, domestic animals and people becoming sick, land being taken for mining without proper compensation, and of traditional mining (panning) being made impossible by silt in the rivers and streams. Australia Three groups of landowners from different parts of Kalimantan gave presentations at the workshop. In every case the mining company causing the problems was Australian. One was PT Indo Muro Kencana, a gold mining company 90 percent owned by the Perth-based Aurora Gold Ltd. Another was PT Kelian Equitorial Mining, owned by CRA; and the third was PT Adaro of whom the majority partner and operator is the Brisbane based New Hope Ltd. The largest coal mine in Indonesia, Kaltim Prima in East Kalimantan, and the second largest gold mine in the country, Kelian, are both operated by Australia's CRA. Recent amalgamation with RTZ, now a shareholder in the Freeport mine, gave CRA an interest in that mine as well. Of the ten coal mines in Kalimantan, six are operated by Australian companies, including three by BHP. Australian companies are mining for gold in Kalimantan, Sulawesi, South Sumatra and Sumbawa, for diamonds in South Sulawesi and for tin on Banka Island. And they are exploring for new deposits all over the country. Network The Banjarmasin workshop resolved to establish an NGO Mining Advocacy Network in Indonesia. This will enable NGOs to assist affected landowners more effectively, and will work to minimise or prevent the negative impacts of mining operations. While not part of the Indonesian network, environment and development organisations in other countries including Australia were seen to play an important supporting role. For Australian NGOs, one obvious function is to be a source of information about Australian companies operating in Indonesia. Several groups, including Community Aid Abroad, have already taken up this role. Two clear issues emerged from the workshop. First, given that so many of the people affected by mining, particularly in Kalimantan and Irian Jaya, are minority indigenous communities with traditional land rights, there is a need to re-assert those rights and the traditional laws upon which they are based. Second, participants expressed a need to re-assert the importance of the small scale mining many communities in mining areas traditionally engage in. This is a more equitable form of resource exploitation, in which benefits go directly to the local community rather than to a company or the government. Awe inspiring On the final day of the workshop, participants travelled by bus into the interior of Kalimantan to visit an Australian operated open-cut coal mine, at Paringin near Tanjung. The huge open-cut pit was an awe inspiring sight, as were the artificial hills created by the dumping of overburden and waste rock. Currently bare, these were to be eventually planted with commercial timber. In the pit itself, giant mechanical shovels tore away at the coal and dumped huge loads onto the backs of trucks to be carted away to the coast and loaded onto ships bound for Japan and other parts of Asia. Frightening After touring the mine site and talking to the managers, the bus load of workshop participants headed back for Banjarmasin. One young man, a farmer from another part of Kalimantan where a company is looking for coal, was asked what he thought of the mine. 'Frightening', he replied. Neither he nor anyone else from his area had ever seen a coal mine before. Its size, and the extent of the damage caused were a frightening surprise to him. The company exploring his area had told people they were simply going to 'take the coal out of the ground, and then give the land back'. For this they would be handsomely compensated. They had no idea their land was going to be dug up and altered forever like that. During the visit, he had been busy photographing everything. Now he was going to bring some nasty revelations about open-cut mining to the people back home. Jeff Atkinson is National Research Co-ordinator with Community Aid Abroad, based in Melbourne. Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996

Death of a consort, end of a dynasty?

JULIA SURYAKUSUMA reflects on the passing of Mrs Suharto The recent death of Mrs Tien Suharto (28 April) can be likened to the demise of the consort of a reigning monarch, bringing disruption and uncertainty. From clairvoyants to seasoned political analysts alike, many see this as the beginning of the end of the rule of Suharto - now in his sixth term - which has lasted for almost 30 years, the longest of any modern national leader. The sheer length of his rule has led people to refer to it as a 'dynasty'. Rumours of Suharto's resignation - or downfall - have been circulating and speculated on for a long time. But now the prospect becomes more imminent. Personally, for Suharto, the death of Mrs Tien is like 'losing half his soul'. However, in terms of the power, legitimacy, cohesion, stability, balance and continuity of the President's rule and the New Order regime, the implications are even greater. Royalty Suharto derives his power and legitimacy from both 'people power' as well as royalty. He constantly prides himself on his lower class rural origins, as being an anak desa (village boy). To this day he regularly has televised audiences with village people. However, his marriage to R. A. Siti Hartinah, his 'closest companion and loyal helpmate', who stems from the Mangkunegaran court in Surakarta, Central Java, provides him with another kind of legitimacy and mystical power needed to consolidate his rule, which can only be derived from nobility. In political matters, it was commonly understood that Mrs Tien was also Suharto's most loyal aide, as well as his closest and most influential advisor. Mrs Tien has been known to express preferences as well as dislikes toward certain cabinet ministers, often connected with their personal lives. Throughout Suharto's rule, in almost all of his public appearances, she was at his side. It is difficult to imagine him without her. Family principle Social cohesion in the New Order is attained using a mix of coercion and consensus, by military, political, economic, ideological and cultural means. One is through the much-touted 'family principle': the state as family, with Suharto as the head of the state-cum-family. In the New Order paternalism, Suharto is often referred to as bapak (father) Harto and his wife,ibu (mother) Tien. If Suharto is the Sun, the source of all power, Tien was the Moon, who reflected that power, and who also provided balance and stability. In many instances, the family principle has been criticised as justifying the practice of nepotism and cliquism, giving special favours to their children, friends and relatives, who dominate the Indonesian business world with their conglomerates and monopolies. Harmony and balance are mainstays of Javanese life. Mrs Tien also provided these in the New Order. She was known for her involvement - as founder, patron, or head - of many social organisations and charitable foundations. This served the purpose of giving a balance - albeit merely pseudo - to the heavily economistic development strategy of the New Order regime, as well as to the business activities of her children. True that Indonesian development has raised living standards, but it has also widened the gap between rich and poor. Sexual politics Ibu Tien also epitomises and personifies sexual politics in Indonesia. Her unquestioning loyalty and unstinting support of Suharto - as husband as well as head of state - and her desire to be part of him rather than being herself, serves as the ideal model of Indonesian womanhood. The resulting ideology - in academic circles known by the term 'State Ibuism' - is a mish- mash of Javanese aristocratic-feudalistic, Dutch petit-bourgeois, as well as military-hierarchical values. State Ibuism is institutionalised in Dharma Wanita, the compulsory civil servants wives' association, which disseminates the ideology through the Family Welfare Movement, an integral part of the government apparatus at the village level. Apart from the inappropriateness of many aspects of Dharma Wanita ideology to most poor women's lives, it also serves the purpose of control. This is the reality of bedroom politics in Indonesia, which pervades the entire bureaucratic structure. The performance of a wife in Dharma Wanita can heavily affect her husband's career. Thus on the one hand, a wife is secondary to her husband, yet on the other, has the power to control and influence his career in the bureaucracy. Icon The death of Mrs Tien Suharto means the disappearance of one of the icons of the New Order. An icon that was never given much consideration, yet it was much like a part of the landscape one takes so much for granted - noticed only when it is gone. There is a remarkable oversight by conventional political analysis - whether journalistic or academic - which tends to look mainly at the male actors in formal politics. In fact, the informal role of women, especially as wives - traditionally as well as in modern-day politics - is crucial. Now, after his lifelong companion and advisor - wife for 49 years and First Lady for 28 years - has gone, is Suharto still in a position to run for another term? A trader in Jakarta remarked, 'losing the First Lady is like losing your mother, who holds the household together', while a bus driver made the observation, 'Pak Harto couldn't have led the country alone and kept the nation stable for such a long time'. In the ensuing instability after Tien's death, the fear of instability alone is enough to cause state and society alike to act in unpredictably destructive ways. Julia Suryakusuma is a free-lance columnist, and currently visiting research scholar at the Centre for South East Asian Studies at Kyoto University. Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996

Grassroots democracy

Philip J. Eldridge, Non-Government Organisations and Democratic Participation in Indonesia, Oxford University Press, 1995. xxii, 260pp, photos. RRP AU$54.95. Reviewed by Ron Witton When government is as authoritarian and all pervasive as in Indonesia, non-governmental organisations (NGOs) play an important role. They communicate to the government the views of ordinary people by mobilising them to act in their own interests. For anyone who has had contact with action for village development, human rights or the environment in Indonesia, the central role played by NGOs is clear. Less clear, however, has been the origins of many of these groups, how they interrelate, and the dimensions of conflict that periodically arise between them. Philip Eldridge has done a masterful job in providing this crucial information. Networking He outlines the origins and continuing concerns of central NGOs such as those in legal aid (e.g. YLBHI), the environment (e.g. WALHI), women (e.g. Yasanti), rural development (e.g. LPSM) and consumers (e.g. YLKI). In addition, he traces the rise of networking and coalition building (such as INGI) and examines the tensions within them. Through selected case studies, such as that of the struggles over the Kedung Ombo dam, he shows how ordinary people work to counter the massive power of the Indonesian state, and the role played in this by NGOs. He also examines ideological conflicts between intellectuals such as George Aditjondro and Arief Budiman over whether NGO-Government co-operation represents a potential for democratisation of the state, or merely the co-option of people's organisations by that state. Big NGOs Of particular interest is his analysis of the strong pesantren (Islamic schools) movement, which addresses local development issues. A contradiction exists between the authoritarian structures of such institutions and the democratic, people-centred goals they pursue. Similarly, he examines the concerns of many within the NGO movement that the BINGOs ('Big NGOs') have managed to commandeer both the leadership of the movement within Indonesia as well as the channels of communication to, and funding from, international aid organisations. His conclusions provide much food for thought. To what extent can NGOs grow and still remain close to their 'grassroots' partners? To what extent is the democratic struggle in the political arena central to the development process? To what extent does it represent a diversion of NGO energies and a subversion of their original aims? These questions are of continuing concern to Indonesians involved in NGOs. Non-Indonesians are well advised to acquaint themselves with the dimensions of this debate before venturing into the field to make contact with this very active area of Indonesian social involvement. Reading this book would be a good start. Dr Ron Witton lectures at the University of Western Sydney. Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996

Asmara Nababan: 'Human rights belong to us'.

Asmara Nababan is the executive secretary of INFID in Jakarta. Since he is also a member of the National Human Rights Commission, we asked him to assess both. For Asmara, the link is human rights. What is the role of INFID? INFID is a forum for a wide range of NGOs in Indonesia, with a wide range of backgrounds, interests and functions, from all parts of Indonesia, from Aceh to Irian Jaya. It also groups NGOs with different religious backgrounds - some have Islamic, Catholic and Protestant backgrounds. It is a meeting place where NGOs can discuss the problems they face in Indonesia. What have INFID and its predecessor INGI been able to achieve? I don't have a simple answer to that. But at the very least it has been able to bring all NGOs onto one platform. In itself this is strategically important in Indonesia, where the differences between NGOs have been great, and where there has been little history of working together. Arief Budiman spoke earlier in the conference about the need for NGOs to develop a common ideology. Do you agree? I think by working together to face obstacles, by joining in the same process, we can come to a common understanding. In three fields- democratisation, equity, and sustainability - all the participants in INFID already have a common understanding. All the NGOs in INFID support these core positions. How has the composition of INFID changed over the years? In the early years, only the biggest NGOs participated, but recently many smaller and local NGOs have begun to participate directly. There are also regional networks of NGOs which participate, including networks from Aceh, Yogyakarta, and North Sumatra. Each of these represent between fifty and one hundred NGOs. So if we say that around forty NGOs participate in INFID, in fact that is an underestimate, there are far more than that. We have seen an expansion of the social base of this network. How do you see the interaction been Australian and Indonesian NGOs? Frankly speaking, most such cooperation is in the development field. This is not wrong of course, but we hope in the future that Australian NGOs will be more active in human rights, in advocacy and democratisation issues. This is because, quite apart from our criticisms and disappointment with the development process in Indonesia, people no longer die from hunger in Indonesia. It's not like Somalia or similar countries. The main problems we face now are not economic, but matters like basic human rights, the right to participate, the right of people to be recognised as human beings. Why did INFID choose the land issue as the theme of this year's conference? Land disputes are increasing from year to year. Especially in Java, economic growth has dramatically increased pressure on land. They need land for, you name it, roads, industrial plants and so on. And yet, the legal infrastructure is too weak to protect the people who are simply ousted from their land. In the past, people used to just accept this. They used to have an attitude of 'well, what can we do?' But over the last five years, people no longer want to just accept it anymore. There is a new awareness among the people that they have the right to fight for their own rights, for their land. You are a member of the National Human Rights Commission. People say it has more independence than was initially expected. How can the Commission influence the Indonesian government on human rights? First of all, relations between the Commission and NGOs have improved greatly. In the Commission's first year, many of its members were cynical about NGOs. They had stereotyped perceptions of NGOs, similar to those of the government. They were reluctant to cooperate with NGOs. Over the last year, a new understanding has emerged in most members about the function of NGOs. Most recognise the need to cooperate with the NGO community. Now on the role of the Commission regarding the government. From the start I did not expect too much from the government. Rather, I see the main role of the Commission right now is to promote understanding of human rights in the public. Our statements appear every day in the newspapers. They are bringing about a kind of legitimation of the issue of human rights. Our work shows the public that human rights belong to us, that they are not an alien concept. Five years ago, if a group raised the human rights issue they were accused of spreading 'Western' ideas and subversion. Now it is legitimate to discuss human rights. This is a major step forward, a real change. Now you hardly even find any generals or ministers who will say that human rights are an alien or Western concept. Of course, because of our limited mandate, we must cooperate with the government. We can't confront the government. The Commission is too weak, in terms of our legal basis, our capacity and so on. So we take a cooperative approach. But this does not mean that we don't criticise them. Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996

Soul painting

A book that testifies to the burgeoning of the arts in Indonesia over the last thirty years.

Satya Wacana University: an expensive lesson

Many foreigners have learned Indonesian on the green campus of Satya Wacana University in Salatiga, Central Java. Since 1993 it has been in the news for a different reason. BUDI KURNIAWAN reports that serious conflicts between the campus community and the university board have reduced the prestigious campus to a shadow of its former self.

Moral crisis and the political party

Beaches and broken bones

Inside 'Inside'

The OPM in Indonesia

Defending the victims of mining

Death of a consort, end of a dynasty?

Grassroots democracy

Asmara Nababan: 'Human rights belong to us'.

Soul painting

Satya Wacana University: an expensive lesson

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