Articles - Inside Indonesia: The peoples and cultures of Indonesia

How to make peace

Civilians demand a part in Aceh's peace process Kautsar On 9 December 2002, representatives of the Indonesian government and the Free Aceh Movement (Gerakan Aceh Merdeka or GAM) signed an agreement for a 'Cessation of Hostilities' (CoH) at a meeting in Geneva, Switzerland. The agreement was reached after a long series of negotiations between the two sides which began in early 2000 during the presidency of Abdurrahman Wahid. This has been a long and exhausting process which has produced both great hope and shattering disappointment in the past. In mid-2000 the two sides agreed to a 'humanitarian pause,' leading to a dramatic decrease in violence. Within weeks, however, the agreement began to break down and before long violence had reached an unparalleled intensity. Between January and November last year alone, according to the Aceh Commission for Disappearances and Victims of Violence (KontraS), over 1,300 people were killed. In conflicts like that in Aceh, it is frequently only the views of the armed parties which are heard. This article presents one viewpoint from Acehnese civil society. In addition to agreeing to a ceasefire, in very general terms, the recent peace negotiations on Aceh made three hopeful steps toward finding lasting peace in the territory. Firstly, the two sides recognised that it is crucial to build trust in order to stop conflict. Secondly, they recognised the need for freedom of political expression in civil society. Thirdly, they established a Joint Security Committee, consisting of Indonesian military (TNI), GAM, and foreign (Thai and Filipino) military representatives which will take responsibility for monitoring and decision-making in the technical matters related to the ceasefire. During the 'humanitarian pause' in 2000, there was no international involvement in the monitoring process. Moreover, the Henry Dunant Centre (HDC), the Swiss-based non-government organisation which has facilitated the talks has been upgraded to a 'mediator' role, and now has the authority to sanction violations of the agreement. There were other positive signs, compared to previous negotiations. For the first time, prior to their commencement, the talks were widely publicised on the internet and in the mass media, both in Indonesia and overseas. In particular, the talks attracted more international interest than ever. A number of Western diplomats were present at the signing of the Agreement, and on 3 December 2002, even before the talks commenced, potential international donors gathered in Japan to start planning financial support for Aceh's reconstruction. Delegates to the conference recognised that if the peace process is to work, Aceh's civilian population must be at the centre of plans for Aceh's future. Also for the first time, both GAM and the TNI consulted with civilian organisations prior negotiating with each other, and used issues raised at these consultations as reference material for the talks. The agreement also provides means for victims of violence which takes place during the CoH to complain to the JSC (which is headed by a Thai military officer), which is then empowered to investigate. This means that the public has direct access to the structures responsible for maintaining peace, without being hampered by complex bureaucracies. Previously, complainants had to appeal to either GAM or the TNI, which were then responsible for reporting complaints to the JSC, although they rarely did so. In spite of these positive steps, some sections of Acehnese civil society remain critical of the Agreement. A meeting facilitated by the Acehnese Civil Society Task Force in Banda Aceh on 16 December 2002, aimed to provide a forum for civilians to express their views on how peace should be implemented. Participants in the meeting wanted the international community to understand that the agreement only represents a first stage, not a final stage, in the resolution of conflict in Aceh. Civilian institutions are also eager for the UN to send a team to investigate human rights violations in Aceh. Most importantly, however, they are anxious to ensure their integral involvement in the implementation of any long-term peace plan. Resolving human rights violations Over the past 25 years, the majority of the 10,000 victims of the conflict have been civilians. Countless other civilians have been victims of human rights violations, all of which are yet to be properly investigated. Investigation of human rights violations, and a just resolution for victims (for instance, trials of human rights perpetrators) will engender public trust and optimism about the present peace process, and will help avoid future impunity. Release of political prisoners The detention of political prisoners and prisoners of war in Aceh is also an ongoing problem. Many people are still detained for their political beliefs, and many prisoners of war are still held at military posts. The Indonesian government and GAM therefore need to free all such persons, both to ensure civil and political liberties and to engender trust between the two parties. Public participation in efforts to maintain a ceasefire Like previous peace plans, the current agreement is laid out in very general terms. This means that the Joint Security Committee needs to specify more clearly how the ceasefire is going to be maintained, and how the peace process will move forward. This will require the two parties entering into further discussions in order to flesh out and agree upon the technical aspects of the peace plan. Civil institutions need to be able to participate in such discussions in order to ensure the plan's success. The Indonesian government's attempts to interpret the Peace Agreement in accordance with its own political interests could also prove to be a significant obstacle. For example, a day after the signing of the agreement, Coordinating Minister for Security and Political Affairs, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, announced that GAM had accepted 'special autonomy' (a formula set down in a law passed for the province by the national parliament in 2001), and that the war would soon end. By this he meant that GAM had effectively given up on its long-held aim of Acehnese independence, something the movement's leaders vehemently deny. The Indonesian government also publicised its own version of the Agreement (which vastly different from the actual agreement). Such misinformation only serves to exacerbate tension. What is even worse, also a day after the signing of the agreement, the Indonesian military increased the number of its posts in civilian residential areas. This has caused great unease among civilians. In East and North Aceh, people have fled their homes for fear of military reprisals. Clearly, the military's actions are quite at odds with the spirit of the peace agreement, which requires both parties to start building an atmosphere of trust, conducive to longer term resolution of the conflict. Kautsar (redsky767@yahoo.com) is a spokesperson for a group of representatives of Acehnese civil society organisations who attended the negotiations in Switzerland in December 2002. They intend to monitor the implementation of the peace deal on the ground.

Notes from a 'five star' prison cell

Life in an Acehnese jail Lesley McCulloch On 10 September 2002, Lesley McCulloch wasarrested in Aceh with her friend Joy Lee Sadler and their Indonesian translator,Fitrah, and charged with visa violations, which she denied. She was heldin jail for over two months before her trial, which concluded when shewas sentenced to five months jail on 30 December, then released on 9 February.McCulloch's case is significant because it is unusual for foreigners accusedof visa violations to be detained for such a long period, rather than simplydeported. It is widely believed that the Indonesian military meant to makean example of McCulloch, an academic who has been critical of the TNI'srole in Aceh. In the foallowing account, which she wrote following the departureof her cell mates, she details prison life. Arrested in a remote corner of South Aceh on 10September, Joy and I were suspected of violating our tourist visas. Thebus on which we were travelling was stopped at an Indonesian checkpoint.The aggressive and poorly-trained officers requested that we open our bags.Distrustful of their intentions, we insisted on placing a call to the USor UK embassy to inform them of what had become a very volatile situation. In the same manner in which they would deal withthe local people - and having no idea how else to address the situation- the local commander became physically aggressive as he tried to separateme from my bag. Joy's response was immediate, she came to my defence; atwhich point a small fight ensued. The injury to Joy's mouth, inflictedby the commander, had not healed by the time she was released in mid-January. For four days we were detained in South Aceh policeHQ. There were no further beatings in the police station, but the interrogationand intimidation was itself tortuous. Joy and I refused to sign the fabricatedstatements that were the result of this interrogation process. Our Acehnesecompanion, Fitrah did sign her statement. She was afraid and we understoodher fear. Joy and I were somewhat protected by our foreignness. Me were then transported, in a convoy of 10 trucks,to Medan, North Sumatra. On arrival in Medan, we were photographedand our fingerprints taken. Indonesian intelligence officers were alsowaiting to question us. We were tired, and Fitrah and Joy were both sick.But all requests to end the interrogation were refused. It was 2am when I suddenly became acutely awarethat my clarity of mind was perhaps not all it should be. I became afraidI might say something which would prove problematic later. So, I lay onthe floor and closed my eyes as if asleep. The other two took the cue andadopted similar uncooperative positions. We did not respond to the ragethat followed. The interrogation was over. Banda Aceh Arriving in Banda Aceh the following day by plane,we were taken to provincial police HQ in Polda. Our accommodation for thenext three months was a windowless office. Further interrogation producedinsufficient evidence to convict us of the espionage-related charges calledfor by the military and police in Jakarta, but those months were a timeof extreme stress. Uncertainty and intimidation filled each day. Our arrival at the jail was quite spectacular.An entourage of friends and activists, four lawyers and embassy staff camewith us. Joy had insisted on bringing four kittens and the mother cat thathad been sharing our room at Polda. All were accepted graciously by thestaff at the jail. And so we became just two more among 117 prisoners,only seven of whom were women. Daily routine The women's section of the prison is a tiny outsidearea with only two cells. Each one measures approximately three by fivemetres. Three of us shared that space; half of the cell was taken up bythe bed - a raised concrete platform with raffia mats. In the corner, thereis a squat toilet with a small concrete tank of water for flushing. Thewater comes from a communal tap outside. There is no shower or bathroom,and even as I write, seven weeks after our arrival, I have yet to cometo terms with brushing my teeth over a squat toilet. A window and the open door allow daylight in.And one dim light bulb hangs from an almost deadly electrical cable. Turningthe bulb in the socket gives light, but almost invariably also gives abad electric shock. I have had several blistered fingers and throbbingarms from the evil socket. But much of the time there is no electricity,and at night we sit by candlelight. The temperature in the cell is often unbearable,so too are the mosquitoes. There are also flying ants, cockroaches andmice sharing this tiny space. Sometimes it becomes rather crowded! There is a small coffee stall, staffed by oneof the prisoners. Acehnese coffee is delicious; strong, black, and forme, unsweetened. It fortifies me for the day ahead. When the others werestill here, we would sit outside for our first discussion of the day, drinkingcoffee and occasionally eating a small block of tofu for breakfast. Talksrevolved around how well we had slept, and whether good health or sicknesswas predicted for the coming day. If there was any water early we would drink ourcoffee more quickly and there would be a flurry of water-based activities.We took it in turns to collect a bucket of water and shower. The otherssat outside, allowing just a little privacy in the day. Solidarity When Joy was still here, much of the day was busywith discussing and dealing with issues surrounding her ill-health andhunger strike. We were afraid, as Joy's health visibly deteriorated inthe unsanitary and hot conditions. By day 37 of her hunger strike she wasin desperate need of intravenous nourishment. But the local hospitals wereunwilling to help because she was HIV-positive. On day 38 of her hungerstrike (3 January), Joy told me: 'I feel so weak, I want to go to sleepand never wake up.' This frightened both of us and Joy decided to try tostart her own intravenous drip. She is a nurse. In my diary that day Iwrote: 'I feel so desperate about Joy. It really was quite pathetic tosee her failed attempts to start an IV in her collapsed veins. This causeddistress to all of us. Only Dewi cried, whilst the rest of us stood insilence.' The heat would make Joy's condition much worse.Dewi would sit and fan Joy for several hours. They would sit in silence.Joy spoke no Indonesian and Dewi no English. And Irawati massaged Joy'saches and pains in the same silent way, making soothing noises as she didso. It was really quite moving to see this silent show of solidarity andsympathy. Slow Unlike the men, the women are placed here to awaittrial, but once sentenced, sent to Lho'gna prison, about 17km from here.Only Joy and I were not moved to Lho'gna after sentencing. Our lawyershad requested that we be allowed to remain here in Banda Aceh. All wereafraid for my safety if transferred to Lho'gna. There are many militaryposted in that area, and by all accounts the anger that had fuelled theirearlier call that espionage charges be brought against me continues tosimmer. It is much better I remain at a distance. The trial process is very slow and all the womenhad been in this prison for several months. With usually only one shorttrial a week, the length of this process is itself the cause of much stress.Even the most minor cases stretch out over two months. Of the seven women,three of us - Reihan, Joy and I - were political cases; Mar's was conflictrelated; and the other three were gambling and fraud. Reihan had decriedPresident Megawati at a demonstration she helped to organise. When shewas finally sentenced to six months in jail, she only had two more weeksto serve. On days when one of us had a trial there was alwaysan air of solidarity and optimism. We would gather to hug and wish goodluck to whoever was going to court. Their return was eagerly awaited. Ifnews was good, it would lift all our spirits. Sickness and depression The sickness and depression suffered by many isa product of prison life. A doctor comes occasionally, but not each week,to dispense some basic medicines and write prescriptions for anything strong.Most, however, have no money to buy the medicines provided. The water usedby the men to bathe, comes from a very old (and smelly) well. Many haveopen and infected sores because of the parasites in the water. Lethargyand fever is common. One young prisoner is in urgent need of an operation.He was shot in the foot four months ago and this foot is now badly infectedand he can hardly walk, the pain visible on his face. But the all-powerfulprosecutors won't give permission for him to be hospitalised until aftersentencing, perhaps one more month. The reason? He is too poor to pay therequested 'fee'. Bribery in the judicial system and the impact this hason the length of prison term, ill-health and stress is a favourite topicof conversation. Alone I am here alone now. Three of the other femaleprisoners, including Joy, have been released. The remainder have been sentto another prison. My days are very similar but much quieter, lonelierand, so it seems, longer. When Dewi, an Indonesian cellmate, and Joy werehere, I would be careful not to waken them. Sleep for all of us was alwaysat a premium. Now I have the luxury of this space all to myself. Some ofthe male prisoners tell me I have the jail's five-star accommodation. Theyare crowded four to seven people in one cell. I have found solace in writing my diary. But thestories of human misery and tragedy I have heard in prison, made worseby the corrupt and inhumane judicial system, are at times too much to comprehend.In an attempt to relieve some of the stress, I focus on my diary. Now, alone by day and night, I write much more.Of course, I have visitors and male prisoners still come to the fence tochat. But sometimes, the days and nights are long. I write more, not onlybecause I am alone but because I feel a sense of urgency in my writing.I don't want to forget anything about my time here. I cannot quite believe I have successfully hiddenmy phone since being arrested. I made only one attempt to recharge it here.The loud bang wakened Joy and Dewi. And the surge of electricity that ranthrough my body almost killed me. So my phone is smuggled in and out bysome very brave friends. At night I can keep in touch with my family andfriends. Previously I fed information about our case to those campaigningfor us on the outside. Now I make arrangements for my free life, next week. I have never been in another Indonesian prison,but I imagine the experience in many would be much worse. The poor livingconditions, bad diet, lack of exercise and now being alone have all takentheir toll. But throughout I have tried to focus on the positive. A favouredword here is simpan. It means store for later, and I have becomevery expert at that. I am mentally ticking off the days to my release,but each day is the same as those in the past seven weeks. I think aboutthe ninth too often. Time seems to have stopped and each minute, each hourstretches forever. So, I continue to chat, to write and drink the deliciousAcehnese coffee. My release is imminent, but I don't believe it. And asI walk through the front gates of the prison, I can imagine that a smallpart of my heart and mind will remain here with my friends. Lesley McCulloch (lesleym@postoffice.utas.edu.au) is a Research Associate at the Department of Anthropology,Monash University. Inside Indonesia 74: Apr - Jul 2003

A moderate majority

A deep local tradition of tolerance defends against militancy The Hon Justice Marcus Einfeld AO QC PhD It is clear that we have entered a new and dangerous phase of horror in human relations. This phase has necessarily drawn Indonesia, Australia and the whole of our region into the nucleus of the struggle. Indonesia was aware that she needed to get tougher on terrorists - all of us knew that we should take more determined action to deal with the terrorist curse. But this is not the time to lay blame in the crude sense of the word. It is time to work in unison to protect our world from the malevolence of terrorists and their brutal exploits. Our strategy must be twofold. We must pull out all stops to root out the criminals committed to and involved in the wholesale murder of civilians, put them on trial, and punish the guilty. And we must also look to the issues which allow fanatics to arouse and inflame the passions of those who would commit dastardly crimes. Hopefully the Indonesian authorities will find the political and public support to clamp down heavily on extremists linked to terrorism. President Megawati's task is arduous and unenviable, but she really has only one choice. The greatest defence against militancy in Indonesia is the deep local tradition of moderation and tolerance. The vilification of Muslims since these attacks is a disgrace. What pedigree of humanity are we, to typecast a substantial portion of the world's population because a few of its number have committed atrocities? All religions have something to answer for in terms of violence and atrocities. Islamic nations have not decided to attack all Christians or commit general acts of pestilence akin to that which occurred in Bali. Has the lesson of Hitler's genocide of Jews not yet been learnt? But as Bali grieves, and we all grieve for what it now stands for, not even the venerated intelligence agencies the world over can supply convincing proof that al Qaeda was involved in it, or even who and what that organisation is. In the face of such an elusive foe, logic is the first casualty. Better co-ordination between the Indonesian police and military is essential in reducing contradiction. If the army takes the lead role and undermines all the work that has been done in the last three years to build up the police as a civilian agency responsible for internal security, the stronger will develop the idea that the army was somehow involved in the bombings in the first place and the more the scepticism of an al Qaeda role. We must also review the tenacity of our relationship with the US. Must the American dream manifest itself in the form of civilian bloodshed? The deaths we have witnessed in Indonesia were ugly, divisive and pointless. Are we about to be again forced to watch nightclubs, shopping centres or schools being bombed in Baghdad? Will the disarming of Saddam Hussein be achieved over the bodies of taxi drivers, shopkeepers and shoppers, mothers taking their children to school? Will it be achieved at all? It is time for us all to look for a durable, feasible and sustainable international solution to Muslim extremism. Any solution will necessarily be found outside of war. Despite the extraordinary statement of US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld that compared to Iraq, the Israel/Palestinian dispute is a 'sideshow', a settlement of that conflict is not the only solution but it is a necessary pre-requisite to a solution to Muslim extremism and militancy. The consequence of failure is more bloodshed and suffering. The dividend of success is too obvious to need stating. We must commit ourselves to move forward towards a future free from terror, where tolerance for disparate cultures spans the globe and the safety of people free from hate becomes the religion of us all. The Hon Justice Marcus Einfeld AO QC can be reached at einfeldm@ozemail.com.au Inside Indonesia 74: Apr - Jul 2003

Puppeteers on wheels

An innovative shadow puppet show combats post-traumatic stress disorder in Bali Rucina Ballinger Following the fatal bomb blast in Kuta in October 2002, relief, in the form of medical support and money, flooded onto the island. But after the first few weeks of emergency care, Bali residents active in relief efforts began to think about what else could be done to help the victims - not only economically and physically, but emotionally and spiritually, too. In the aftermath of the blast, people began to show signs of post-traumatic stress disorder (Ptsd). Those living in and around Kuta were of particular concern, and the prevalence of Ptsd among them spawned an idea to use shadow puppet performances (wayang) in order to disseminate information about Ptsd to local people. As the idea developed, I Made Sidia -- a puppeteer (dalang) whose work is well known for its cutting political commentaries, became involved. Sidia gathered together a team of very creative people, and his production improvised on traditional wayang in a number of ways. Firstly, the musical accompaniment to Sidia's production included flutes, percussive instruments and a keyboard. Secondly, instead of using the traditional oil lamp (blancong) that illuminates the screen and the puppets, he computerised the show by calling upon his colleague, Dewa Made Darmawan, to create Power Point images. Thirdly, the screen was extended to three metres in width. Traditionally, dalangs sit cross-legged behind the screens no wider than their arm span. This means that they can march puppets across the screen without moving from their seated position. Sidia's wide-screen forced the dalangs to slide across the floor as they marched their puppets from one side of his wide screen to the other. To ease their mobility, Sidia had them sit on skateboards. Nyoman Sira, Sidia's brother, made a number of new puppets out of plastic, thus adding yet another novel element to the show. Sira's puppets move beautifully and include some three-dimensional puppets which transform with the flick of a wrist into another being. One is an old woman who turns into a witch, and a favourite among audiences is a man on a giant bicycle, wheels spinning, being chased by a monkey. For this production, Sidia chose a story called 'The Ten Names of Peace' (Dasa Nama Kerta). The story reminds viewers that demons live within each and every one of us, and we must confront and conquer them. We meet people who have lost loved ones in the bomb blast of 12 October 2002. A mother who has lost her only child (and thereby her only bread-winner), a pre-schooler whose mother was killed, a macho security guard who has lost his lust for his wife and his life, a man who is constantly sick with headaches and stomach upsets. Two clowns of the wayang, Merdah and Twalen, listen to these people's tales of woe and comfort them. At the end of the wayang, Twalen and Merdah advise that the ten elements of peace -- earth, water, fire, wind, plants, animals, fish birds, humans and God - must be cherished, nurtured and controlled. If not, things may get out of hand, causing floods, forest fires, or even bomb blasts. The first live show in Kuta on 12 December 2002, was very warmly received. There have also been performances in Ubud, Bona and Kepaon, Denpasar, which is home to a number of taxi drivers who were killed by the bomb. A psychiatrist introduces the show and disseminates information about Ptsd to audience members, who are also invited to stay on after the show, meet the dalang, see how the computer and the skateboards work and, if they want to, speak with the doctors. Additional free psychiatric and psychological counselling with Dr Nyoman Sura Oka at the International Medical Corps (IMC) is available for Indonesians. Tel. (62 361) 229092. Rucina Ballinger (rucina@indo.net.id) has been active in cultural and artistic exchange projects in Bali over the past two decades. Inside Indonesia 74: Apr - Jul 2003

Ritual, politics and tourism

Ritual purification ceremonies have dominated Balinese recovery efforts Graeme MacRae Most Balinese of my acquaintance, a few urban intellectuals aside, have until recently believed deeply in a view of their island as a haven of unique peace and tranquility in a world apparently racked by disorder, conflict and violence. Much of this, in their view, is caused by (non-Hindu) religion and/or lack of religion altogether. Their own uniquely privileged position they see as blessings bestowed on them by the gods of Bali, which are in turn a result of their own unique devotion to the correct forms of ritual. This belief in ritual causation is perhaps related to their distrust of human political endeavour, and this distrust has emerged in locals' recovery efforts in a post-bomb Bali. These efforts have focussed on restoring spiritual balance through ritual purification ceremonies, which reinforce an inherently apolitical Balinese self-image. Collective amnesia Bali has a long history of political conflict and violence. Understandably, older generations of Balinese, whose early lives were lived in frequent fear and real danger, prefer not to remember too much of this history. But the present generation - those born since about 1960 - know little of it, and subscribe to a sanitised, secondhand version of their own culture and history, in which 'politics' (politik) is a dirty word. What they know as 'Balinese culture' is built on images of the island as a place apart from the troubles of the world, a place of natural beauty, artistic creativity, spectacular dance and ritual performance. These images have roots in political expediencies of the Dutch colonial state in the aftermath of their bloody invasion of Bali a century ago, and have flourished and developed in close symbiotic relationship with the world tourism industry since. Contemporary Balinese culture has been built on a kind of collective amnesia about certain aspects of its own history. Balinese responses to the many recent instances of political violence in Indonesia are revealing of this amnesia. Balinese I spoke to immediately after the turbulent events leading to the downfall of Suharto in 1998 and the electoral riots of 1999, were deeply shocked by such violence so close to home and insisted that it was an aberration nothing to do with them: it was the fruits of politik from elsewhere - Jakarta, or Java generally, or if it happened in Bali, the work of outside provocateurs from places more inclined to the 'political'. Their own (and by implication 'Balinese') priorities by contrast, were on two things only: their livelihoods, which were dependent to varying degrees on tourism, and their religious practice, on which both tourism and their livelihoods ultimately depended anyway. They believed that they were being unfairly punished for the inevitable consequences of the political activities of other people. Familiar pattern So far, local reactions to the Kuta bombing seems to have followed a very similar pattern. That is, Balinese people's responses to the bombing reveal that this apolitical self-image endures. In media reports and personal communications with friends and acquaintances in the aftermath of the bomb, the following pattern emerges. Firstly, locals' horror at the sheer human tragedy was followed quickly by a chorus of outrage that such an atrocity could have been perpetrated in Bali, and an insistence that it must be the work of outsiders. People also insisted that the bombing must have been motivated by jealousy and a desire to damage the reputation and economy of Bali, and that it was the result of political machinations of non-Balinese origin. As acceptance of the awful reality set in, reflections on deeper causes of the tragedy emerged. Many began to see it as a result of deficiencies in their own performance of ritual, and a kind of punishment for allowing the kind of immoral and 'un-Balinese' development that the nightclub strip of Kuta represented. Certainly, there have been many practical responses, including efforts to assist in both the immediate relief effort and ongoing assistance to the many and under-reported local victims. But the main priorities for Balinese seem to have remained the need for massive investment in ritual purification at a range of sites. This is indeed normal Balinese practice in response to death and/or misfortune of any kind, but it was intensified in proportion to the magnitude of the disaster. There has also been a deep concern for the economic consequences and the future of tourism, ranging from the direst of predictions to assurances of imminent recovery and the need for immediate reconstruction. Some Balinese people have suggested the bomb may present an unwelcome but perhaps valuable opportunity to rethink the kind of future the people of Bali want. It remains to be seen whether these questions will remain on the agenda for public debate or be submerged beneath the familiar tides of tourist industry rhetoric and associated religious fervour. Graeme MacRae (G.S.Macrae@massey.ac.nz) teaches Anthropology at Massey University in New Zealand. Inside Indonesia 74: Apr - Jul 2003

Back to the roots

After the bomb, community tourism needs a boost Sherry Kasman-Entus 'Our biggest worry is that the post-bomb 'recovery' program will succeed. Those who speak of 'recovery' talk only numbers - a return to the pre-bomb number of tourists. Bali is getting a lot of free advertising from this bombing. If the tourism industry recovers successfully, even more visitors could come than before, and this has the potential to wreck Bali.' -Nyoman Suma Artha, Eka Sari In the aftermath of the Bali bombing, local government and industry leaders formulated a four-stage tourism recovery plan in the interests of rescuing and expanding the island's tourism industry. Official sources project that through these recovery efforts, the number of foreign arrivals will return to pre-bomb levels by the end of this year, and pre-bomb growth rates resume by mid-2004. Questions of how long the tourism economy will take to recover mask a more troubling set of questions about the sustainability of pre-bomb tourism industry growth which, long before the bomb, had already begun threatening the well being of most of the people who call this island home. In 2001, tourism provided direct employment to 38 per cent of Bali's workforce and contributed 51 per cent of Bali's income. However, most of Bali's population is spread through rural villages far from the tourism centres, and the majority is employed in other sectors, including over 40 per cent in agriculture. A huge amount of the tourism revenue leaks into the pockets of outside investors. Farmland conversion, forest clearing, coastal development and pressures on water resources associated with the toUrism infrastructure have had devastating environmental impacts. Bali's traditional (adat) communities, based on subsistence agriculture and the ritual maintenance of harmony between people, gods and nature, are the backbone of the culture that is Bali's key tourist attraction. Yet past tourism master plans have been largely determined by outsiders, relegating adat communities to the status of objects of the tourist gaze, and preventing them from taking charge of their own development. Many Balinese people viewed the tragedy as an opportunity to rethink the island's development priorities. When the wheels of the industry came to a grinding halt, Balinese authorities acknowledged that beyond short term tourism recovery, they would need to make long term plans to diversify the economy. Local activists declared the crisis a blessing in disguise, calling for more radical shifts. Many local activists have stressed the need to build a better quality of life for local people, based on equity, ecology, spirituality and empowered communities. The question is, how can this be realised on the ground? Some community-based tourism initiatives, of which there are a dozen or more in Bali today, are helping to achieve this. They were not born of the bomb, but they may point the way to recovery from the unhealthy realities and misleading images of Bali that the bomb exploded. Three of these initiatives are overviewed below. Each is unique, but all share common ground. They conceive of the tourist destination as a space where host and guest interact. Moreover, tourism is only one part of a strategy for sustainable change aiming to enhance the well being of the community in its environment. Beraban Selemadeg: Ten years ago, this coastal rice-farming village was zoned for tourism development in government spatial plans. This was followed by mass protests against the Bali Nirwana Resort (BNR) in nearby Tanah Lot, because of its location beside a sacred Hindu temple and its wholesale expropriation of land from local farmers. This sequence of events prompted a dozen Beraban villagers to start a community tourism group. By bringing tourism into the village and managing it on their own terms, they hoped to enhance local employment opportunities, while protecting their land and traditions from the commercialisation and dislocations occurring elsewhere in Bali. Entirely self-funded, they have developed a 28-room homestay network and a cultural immersion program to introduce visitors to their architecture, cooking, rituals, music and farming practices. Future plans include community training in hospitality and conservation, a return to organic rice agriculture, and the establishment of an irrigation society (subak) museum as a focal point of village tourism. Eka Sari: Living on the edge of West Bali National Park, the villagers of Eka Sari depend on this forest, one of Bali's last rainforests, for their livelihoods. Due to the economic crisis and rising demands for hardwoods for the export furniture market, Eka Sari became a key exit point for illegal logging. By 2000, tree depletion, water loss and soil erosion posed serious problems for local farmers. Alarmed at this trend, Nyoman Suma Artha, an Eka Sari native, organised a village training with a local non-government organisation Indonesian Development of Education and Permaculture (Idep). As a result, a group of farmers started a poly-culture farm; the local wood-processing plant was shut down; women opened outlets selling organic farm support products; schools and homes initiated competitions for the best kitchen and medicinal gardens, and village youth organised tree-planting trips into the forest. This has since become a regular program involving 15 regional high schools. Nyoman has launched a forest conservation club aiming to create a ring of protection around the forest by engaging all 26 border communities in a conservation and community development 'contest'. This year, five more communities are participating, starting with training designed to give them information and tools to innovate new livelihood strategies, including tourism enterprises featuring farm stays, forest trekking and tree planting activities. Perancak: Bali has long been the hub of a vast sea turtle trade network, and Perancak, a fishing village on the southwest coast, was once renowned for its turtle-hunters. Escalating trade in turtle products, coupled with rapid beach development and destructive fishing, had driven the turtles almost extinct by 1996. Then the Worldwide Fund for Nature (WWF) opened a Bali branch for a save-the-turtle campaign, and reached out to adat leaders for help. In 1997, the first nesting turtle in 37 years returned to Perancak. These two events inspired Wayan Tirta, an adatKurma Asih (Turtle Lovers), a group of 20 fishermen who joined forces with WWF to restore Perancak as a turtle habitat. leader of Perancak, to form WWF phased out the prgram in 2002, and Kurma Asih is carrying on alone, determined to overcome steep challenges of insufficient funding and beach abrasion, along with the continuing black market in turtles in south Bali. They hope to raise community participation and external support to further develop local eco-tourism as a way to supplement local incomes, and support research and rehabilitation of the beach ecosystem. Balinese community-based tourism is clearly an idea whose time has come. Let us hope that it will not be lost in the momentum of a return to 'business as usual'. Sherry Kasman-Entus (sherry@indosat. net.id) lives in Bali, where she designs and facilitates study tours in collaboration with local communities. She is currently completing a MA in Development Studies through Murdoch University. Inside Indonesia 74: Apr - Jul 2003

Renegotiate the debt!

Civil society intervenes in multilateral aid meeting Ngurah Karyadi In January 2003, the Consultative Group on Indonesia (CGI) met in Bali and concluded with US$2.7 billion pledge in disbursements for 2003. CGI is a consortium of government representatives and donor agencies, convened by the World Bank, which meets annually to pledge aid disbursements to Indonesia. When it met on 21 and 22 January 2003, the Indonesian government lobbied CGI for additional aid to assist with recovery from the Bali bombing. Ngurah Karyadi attended the meeting as a civil society observer for the Indonesians People's Forum, and presented the following intervention. The 12 October bombing in Kuta resulted in a tragic loss of lives and triggered an unprecedented crisis in Bali. The sudden mass exodus of tourists altered its economy overnight. While the effects have been most visible on the economy, the potential for social tensions has also increased. Culture of fear After the Kuta bombing, many businesses were threatened with bankruptcy and many people were laid off. In Bali, the economic crisis has manifested an escalating xenophobia. Increasingly, people from outside the island are seen as a threat to Balinese people's economic and social stability. At the socio-political level, a number of groups are capitalising on a general atmosphere of fear by taking steps towards remilitarising society, reminiscent of the New Order period. For example, in Bali, local thugs (preman) now command their own price to maintain security. At the national level, some politicians have demanded that the government reinstate the Anti-Subversion Law. Parallel to this, the Australian government has promoted Kopassus as their partner in the War on Terror. Many of the recovery efforts have done little to address these issues and their regressive social effects. A better political and economic order Governments need to examine the political and economic contexts in which terrorist organisations evolve. Certainly, economic insecurity breeds terrorism. In Bali, recovery efforts need to take this into account. Ultimately, priority must be given to economic and social development, as well as justice and law enforcement. Many world leaders espouse that free trade, open markets and public-private partnerships are key to overcoming the political, economic and even social instability. But these efforts mean little if the community is not involved. In Indonesia, free trade needs to include the democratisation of political and economic power, placing the military under civilian control, and the ongoing devolution of power from the centre. The Indonesian government has asked CGI participants to help with the recovery effort by funding new development programs in Bali. But the government really needs to utilise this opportunity to renegotiate the current foreign debt. Unfortunately, Indonesian leaders have focused too much on adherence to IMF structural adjustment policies, at the expense of common Indonesians. Raising prices of basic commodities during the crisis created by the Kuta bombing reveals a lack of insight. A number of crucial actions remain to be taken at the macro-economic level, in the interests of overseeing a complete recovery in the bomb's aftermath. Firstly, the government must provide for basic human needs, including food, health, education and a clean environment through a social security system. Priority should be given to those who have been directly affected by the Kuta bombing. It should also create employment through spending on much needed infrastructure in Bali as well as Indonesia. Secondly, bureaucratic processes by which people register their businesses should be streamlined. This would enable such businesses better access to capital investment and over the long term, legitimate businesses will generate more tax revenue for the local government. This in turn would allow the government to assist farmers in rural areas, who are indirectly affected by the economic crisis. Thirdly, a moratorium on Indonesia's debt needs to be instituted immediately. Donor institutions need to be made accountable for loans made in bad faith, where official corruption was ignored or factored into the terms of the agreement. This is vital, as it would help to restore the Indonesian people's faith in global financial institutions. It would also temporarily relieve fiscal pressure and ensure the availability of funds needed to get through the crisis. The tragedy has become a learning process as well as a time for reflection for us all. It is essential to the future of Indonesia that together we build the faith necessary to create a better social and economic order, free of fear, in an atmosphere of democracy, justice and responsibility. Ngurah Karyadi (gembrong@ eudoramail.com) has been active in Balinese student and non-government organisations since the late 1980s. Inside Indonesia 74: Apr - Jul 2003

Sustainable recovery

Balinese people favour green initiatives in recovery effort Christine Foster Many people, whether members of the multi-ethnic and multinational community living on Bali, officials and businessmen from Jakarta, or groups and aid agencies from abroad, are committed to helping Bali recover from the recent tragedy. The reasons are numerous: economic disaster looms on the horizon; its pristine image is now tarnished by the phrase 'soft target'; its people suffer endemic corruption, and mismanaged development. Post-bomb Bali has been inundated by benefit concerts, fund-raising dinners, media campaigns and action plans to restore, revitalise, and repair Bali. Among it all, a deeper dilemma is emerging, one which demands honesty about the serious environmental and social problems in Bali from all those involved in the massive recovery movement in Bali. No paradise The Kuta bombing showed the world that in stark contrast to its heavenly image in the tourist brochures, Bali is not immune to terrorist attacks. Indeed, even before the bomb, one need only encounter a drug dealer or pimp in Kuta's chaotic streets, gaze upon the garbage piles lining roads, or wade through a flood in the rainy season to see that all was not well on the island. The many environmental, social and economic issues plaguing Bali stem from years of Jakarta-led developmentalism and official corruption. The well-intentioned billions (yes billions) of dollars pledged to restore Bali must overcome rampant greed, and rampant bureaucracy in order to be properly spent, and consensus on how to do it is slow in coming. It must be kept in mind that Bali-cum-paradise was not developed exclusively by, or even for, the Balinese. For decades, the Indonesian government's grand development scheme for the island focused primarily on mega-projects for tourism, relying on Jakarta or foreign investors to build the hotels and tourist attractions, and aid agencies like the World Bank to provide loans for the roads, waterworks and other infrastructure necessary to support a mass-tourism industry. The explosive pace of development in the southern part of Bali where most tourism is based set the tone for the next decade of unrestrained development. Well-financed investors from outside were free to do as they liked, and the Balinese followed suit with shops, galleries and bungalows, often selling ancestral land to finance these small-scale projects. Regional master plans drawn up by the government to ensure environmental sustainability, or even the quality of life for Bali residents, was easily altered to accommodate wealthy, well-connected investors. The great roads built to serve the tourists have attracted smaller but no less aggressive investors who have erected strip malls, villas, and other tourist based businesses. Development planning was inadequate, and long before the bomb, the island's too few roads weren't wide enough for the tourist-laden buses, its water distribution system couldn't deliver adequate water to residents (though golf courses were eternally green and swimming pools filled) and land in the developed parts of Bali had reache8 prices far beyond the reach of the average Balinese. Those who were lucky enough to have a helping hand onto the tourism bandwagon now face a bleak immediate future. Since that fateful night in Kuta, hotel occupancy in many establishments has plummeted to single digits. Though the holidays saw a brief surge of arrivals of mostly domestic tourists to the island, they have, for the most part, returned home. Many believe that a US-led assault on Iraq in early 2003 will keep the majority tourists away for at least a few more months, and will most certainly affect bookings for the high season of June-August. Then there is Indonesia's national election in 2004, which holds no promises to be peaceful. Few tourists walk the towns of Kuta, Sanur and Ubud and many workers, especially those in the substantial informal sector of the tourism industry, have been sent home to wait for better days. Recovery, big business-style Bn the meantime, the Indonesian Government, foreign aid agencies, non-government organisations (NGOs), companies and private individuals have embarked on various campaigns and initiatives to help Bali recover. The biggest and most recent is 'Bali for the World', a well-funded campaign initiated by Kadin, the Indonesian Business Association. Initially, the Bali for the World Committee came to the island with lots of money and little understanding of the real issues facing post-bomb Bali. Over the holidays, the Committee sponsored a series of highly publicised public concerts, and invited high-level bureaucrats from Jakarta to watch dancers clad in Hollywood renditions of Balinese traditional dress sing songs of hope and peace. With the President and her husband, Mr. Taufik Kiemas the centre of media attention, the events left many Balinese to wonder why the government and well-connected business people from Jakarta would spend seventy billion rupiah (A$ 13 million) for a series of mega-concerts when the money could be used more effectively to fix some of Bali's more serious problems, like mounting garbage, scarce urban water supply or even an antiquated education system. Made Nurbawa, of the Indonesian environmental organisation Walhi, felt that Balinese were ready to move on and were annoyed by the ongoing post-tragedy campaigns, speeches and events. Of the recent concert series he said, 'I think we need to look at Bali and the world, not Bali for the World. What the Balinese want is to be quiet (ngeneng). Life needs to slow down. The Balinese have already dealt with the bombing in their own way with the Parisudha Karypurbhaya ceremony'. Balinese organised the ceremony in November 2002 in order to restore the island's cosmic balance. Homegrown initiatives Thankfully, the scope of Bali's recovery has expanded beyond Kuta, victims of the bombing, and even the Balinese economy to address issues of social and environmental sustainability. Jakarta and Balinese NGOs are committed to working together in order to benefit the island and its residents. Activists in the recovery effort in Bali are taking steps to ensure that the Balinese are included in decisions about how and where the money is spent. Among them is activist Viebeke Lengkong, a Kuta resident and a member of the locally based Samigita, a citizen group deeply involved in the Bali Recovery. According to her, the most critical issue facing Bali is 'the potential for social conflict and disintegration stemming from a lack of human security'. Her definition of security includes access to healthcare and education for the Balinese as well as the health of the environment in which they live, especially those in rural areas far from the tourist centers of Bali. 'Communication and cooperation is the most important thing in Bali's recovery,' she comments, describing the key to overcoming the suspicion and corruption that characterised initial recovery efforts. Recently, well over 1,000 volunteers converged on the village of Catur in the Kintamani area to plant a total of 50,000 trees alongside local villagers in a forest vital for the island's watershed. The aim of this project was to raise awareness about illegal logging, a practice that has been running rampant in Bali and elsewhere in Indonesia. Among the volunteers were village residents, government officials, activists, members of the military as well as expatriates. This same program, sponsored in parp by the Bali for the World Organizing Committee, will be repeated in coming months in other regencies in Bali. Other planned campaigns, not all funded by Jakarta, include instituting permanent garbage collection and recycling schemes, revamping Bali's public healthcare system, and campaigning for sustainable urban planning. These homegrown development initiatives reveal that the Balinese are acutely aware of the negative impacts tourism development has had on their island, and are taking steps to repair the mistakes of the past. For the time being, no one can find the magic mantra to bring back all of those dollar-laden tourists back to the island. In all honesty, though, Bali has been blessed with an opportunity to become more than an icon of paradise in the collective imagination. By implementing sustainable solutions to long term environmental and social problems, the Balinese are taking steps to help their embattled island and in the process, improving their own standard of living. Christine Foster (luhbulan@denpasar.wasantara.net.id) is currently studying Sustainable Development at Murdoch University in Perth. Inside Indonesia 74: Apr - Jul 2004

Taken by surprise

The Bali bombings reveal the failings of Australian-Indonesian intelligence co-operations David Wright Neville The terrorist bombings of the Sari Club and Paddy's Bar last October confirmed what many Indonesia watchers had been loathe to admit; that a small number of Indonesian Muslims have embraced a violent fanaticism once viewed as a peculiarly Middle Eastern phenomenon. That this might be the case proved difficult to accept mainly because it challenged accepted wisdom that Indonesian Islam was and remained culturally discrete - a mostly benign tradition unsullied by the demagoguery of extremist Islamist agendas in other parts of the world. As writers such as Bob Hefner have pointed out, Indonesian Islam has always been marked by a vibrant pluralism. Moreover, those who would compartmentalise it into a neatly defined 'apolitical' category were guilty of a romantic Orientalism that denied historical and contemporary realities. Indonesian Islam has never been impervious to cultural and political influences in other parts of the world, and nor will it be in the future. Short-sighted For anybody even remotely aware of the cultural dynamics in a globalised world, it should have come as no surprise that some Indonesian Muslims would find parallels between their own predicament and the worldviews and political messages emanating from distant corners of the Islamic world. It was similarly predictable that those who peddle such messages would target Indonesian Muslims. Yet these possibilities appeared to have been lost on both the Australian and Indonesian intelligence communities. Right up until early 2002, Indonesia watchers in the Australian intelligence community dismissed reports of growing contacts between al Qaeda and militants in Indonesia as irrelevant. One especially sceptical senior intelligence official ridiculed such reports with a dismissive wave of the hand coupled by a derogatory reference to 'mad muzzies'. This short sightedness is partly attributable to the resilience of stereotypes of Indonesians, and other foreigners for that matter, within the Australian foreign policy and security bureaucracy. But it also reflects a general ignorance, at senior policy levels in particular, of global cultural and political dynamics and their impact on individual communities. In the case of the Australian intelligence community, these shortcomings are rooted in the rarefied atmosphere within which analysts work. In brief, it is an environment that discourages open exchange with outside experts, especially in academe or the private sector. There is a refusal to accept that such exchanges can be useful even without the disclosure of classified material. More than a decade ago the CIA recognised the intellectual atrophy that can incubate within an overly restricted analytical environment. After all, the CIA habitually over-estimated the former Soviet Union's military prowess and then failed to predict its collapse. Since then, CIA analysts have actively solicited counter-views to those that prevail within the intelligence establishment. Conferences are regularly convened with outside experts, including critical and even leftwing voices, to try and minimise the dangers posed by analyses generated within closed environments. If, in the American case, good analyses fail to generate good policies, at least there is the White House to blame. Not so in Australia. After failing to predict the fall of Suharto, the pogrom in East Timor, the election of Abdurahman Wahid, his fall, and the rise of Islamist terrorism one would think that the CIA's Australian counterparts would be seeking to solicit a similar range of views, if for no other reason than to expose the Indonesia 'experts' to a dose of reality. Sadly, this does not seem to be the case. Dummy Supplementing engagement with 'outside experts' are bilateral intelligence exchanges, or 'Intellex', whereby Australian officials from Australian agencies meet with their foreign counterparts to discuss issues of mutual interest. Mostly these exchanges with Asian counterparts amount to little more than a diplomatic t�te-�-tote, with generalities exchanged but very little discussion of specifics. On rare occasions such meetings generate valuable snippets of information and analytical insights. Yet there is little chance of this happening with Indonesian services because since the East Timor crisis Indonesian agencies, the State Intelligence Co-ordinating Agency (Bakin), the Armed Forces Strategic Intelligence Agency (Bais) and the State Intelligence Agency (BIN), have refused to meet formally with their Australian counterparts. On-going indignation within Indonesian intelligence circles at Australia's alleged support for pro-independence groups in East Timor has meant that Australia's meagre intelligence assets in Indonesia have had to take on the burden. This makes the task of mapping the organisational spread and operational strength of groups like Jemaah Islamiyah extremely difficult. It may surprise many to learn that Australia has a comparatively small foreign intelligence capability, effectively 'out-sourcing' much of the information it needs to exchanges with friendly services within the UK-USA alliance that links Australian intelligence to the United States, United Kingdom, Canada and New Zealand. At the very least, Australia's small intelligence capabilities belie the delusions of regional grandeur evinced by that antipodean Napoleon John Howard and his nonsensical threats of unilateral pre-emptive military action against suspected terrorist targets in the region. But herein lies another major problem from the Australian perspective. There is a perception in Indonesia, and Southeast Asia more generally, that Australia is an unreliable intelligence partner. In particular, the soothing affirmations of camaraderie and regional brotherhood whispered by Canberra's Southeast Asian diplomats are belied by Australia's image as an outpost of US foreign policy, Washington's Far Eastern branch office within which John Howard serves proudly as chief clerk. Moreover, in the current climate, with Washington determined to play the lead and supporting roles in the War on Terror (and Australia reduced to a walk-on bit part) Jakarta knows it can deal directly with Washington on counter-terrorism issues. In other words, why talk to the dummy when you can go straight to the ventriloquist? Australian officials have worked hard to overcome this problem which, to be fair, is more the making of political leaders in Canberra and Jakarta rather than intelligence officials per se. And since the Bali attacks it appears as though some sensibility has been reinjected into the relationship in the form of a new spirit of cooperation between the Indonesian police and the Australian Federal Police. However, it remains to be seen whether the relationship can be rebuilt on the back of the Bali investigation. But even if it can, there are other problems that need to be dealt with. Risks There is little doubt about the determination of some Indonesian intelligence officials to work closely with their Australian counterparts. But their efforts are often hobbled by several deeply embedded structural problems; in particular, the politicisation of Indonesian intelligence and inter-service rivalries. There is little evidence to suggest that military intelligence in particular has reformed its ways. It is difficult to separate Bakin from TNI's overall command structure, and just as regional TNI commands are riddled by corruption and a sense that they alone know what's best for their own region and the nation as a whole, so too do Indonesian intelligence agencies connected to TNI, notably Bais and Bakin. This is not to suggest that BIN is much better. The erratic performance of BIN's mercurial head, Hendropriyono, his mishandling of allegations of an al Qaeda-linked training facility in Poso, as well as allegations he was complicit in the murder of Papuan separatist leader Theys Eluay, not to mention his own shady business dealings, have already been well documented. Of particular concern is evidence that certain elements within the Indonesian intelligence community remain hostile to any negotiated peace in Aceh, West Papua or other trouble spots. The allegation that TNI had a hand in the murder last August of two US citizens and an Indonesian national near the Freeport mine is just one example of the organisation's troubled image. If true, this allegation, and others relating to ceasefire violations in Aceh, raises serious questions about the value of working with Indonesian intelligence. Why? Because recent research into the evolution of terrorist groups around the world suggests a close correlation between brutalisation at the hands of the state and the tendency by some individuals and groups to resort to terrorism as a mode of political agitation. By cooperating more closely on intelligence matters with an unreformed TNI, Canberra thereby risks abetting a worsening of the terrorist problem in Indonesia. This risk is especially acute in the area of counter-terrorism, and it would arise in cases where uncorroborated information about a certain individual or group was passed to Indonesian military intelligence for verification. In such a scenario, it would not be unusual for the information to implicate individuals not involved with terrorism per se, but either knowingly or unknowingly associated with insurgency groups or even organisations involved in basic human and civil rights movements. There is a real risk that such information passed from Australian agencies in the name of counter-terrorist cooperation could enhance TNI's ability to brutalise dissident groups. Apart from the obvious ethical issues involved, co-operation between Australian and Indonesian intelligence agencies in such a scenario risks contributing to the types of abuse of power that feed the community anger and frustrations upon which terrorists feed. Of course criticisms of this type have been made before. The usual reply, from spokespeople for the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAT), and Defence (because Australian intelligence officials will neither confirm nor deny), is that intelligence co-operation, like that of defence co-operation, is designed to protect Australian lives. And, they remind us, don't forget those Australian government programs that teach Indonesian security officials how to respect human rights. This is bunkum. If the Indonesian intelligence community's behaviour up until the East Timor crisis is evidence of the benefits of close cooperation with their Australian counterparts, then it is the type of cooperation that Australians and ordinary Indonesians could well do without. Dr David Wright Neville (David.WrightNeville@arts.monash.edu.au)is a Senior Research Fellow at Monash University's Global Terrorism Research Project. Inside Indonesia 74: Apr - Jul 2003

A hybrid order

No joy for extremists in post-bomb Indonesia Ed Aspinall Immediately after the bombings in Bali on 12 October, there was much speculation in the foreign, especially Australian, press, that this was a watershed event for Indonesian politics. Nothing in the country would now be the same, or so the commentators argued. Political alignments would shift, the military would reassert itself, Islamic radicalism surge and the country face international isolation. Certainly, it is possible to imagine circumstances in which some of the dramatic predictions might have been realised. In particular, the way that the government responded to the bombings was crucial for Indonesia's relations with the outside world. If foreign powers like Australia and, especially, the US had judged it was not seriously investigating the attack, or, worse still, turning a blind eye to its perpetrators, then Indonesia could have become a pariah state, with disastrous consequences. Instead, the outcome on this score has been close to the reverse. There was unprecedented, large-scale and effective cooperation between Indonesian and foreign police. Within weeks, those responsible began to be arrested and foreign officials heaped praise on the government and police. Indonesia had won its spurs as a reliable ally in the War on Terror. In the context of the surprisingly effective police response, most of the more dramatic predictions have not come true. The myth of military omnipotence In particular, the Bali bombing did not become a pretext for a political resurrection for the Indonesian military (TNI), even if some generals tried to use it for this purpose. For example, immediately after the bombing, the hardline Army Chief of Staff, Ryamizard Ryacudu, ordered the army hierarchy to 're-open the intelligence network' and stated that there should be no further talk of abolishing the military's territorial structure. It is true that the post-September 11 world and Megawati's Indonesia represent an increasingly benign climate for the TNI. Immediately after the downfall of President Suharto in May 1998, the TNI was excoriated domestically and internationally for its record of human rights abuses. Officers felt that their institution was under siege. Nowadays, President Megawati herself is sympathetic to the views of many of the more hardline generals (Ryamizard is reportedly a personal favourite). After September 11 and, especially Bali, senior US, Australian and other Western officials made many public comments about the need to restore military cooperation with Indonesia, adding further to TNI officers' views that human rights are moving off the international agenda. It is no surprise that there are reports that some officers privately believe that it is only a matter of time before military dominance over politics will be restored. There have certainly been many signs of increased military confidence, such as the string of acquittals in the East Timor human rights trials. On the ground, especially in places like Papua and Aceh, military brutality remains common. However, Indonesia still has a very long way to go before the military's dominance is restored. New anti-terrorism regulations, for example, do little to enhance the military's power. Even on core issues of security policy, there are signs that the hawks do not have it all their own way. For example, the December 2002 peace agreement in Aceh (see the article in this issue) may be vulnerable to sabotage by military hardliners, but it came about despite their frequently-stated objections to dialogue with 'separatists'. Despite the existence of hardline elements within it, the TNI remains greatly constrained by continuing public suspicion and hostility. While there has been much disillusionment with the outcome of reformasi, there is not (yet) any general clamour in the urban middle classes, let alone other parts of the population, for the return of authoritarian rule. One poll, conducted by the newspaper Kompas last October, revealed that only 42 per cent of respondents believed that the TNI had a 'good image', down from 58 per cent a year earlier. Most officers recognise this poor public image, and it accounts for their circumspection when dealing with political issues. Hence, Armed Forces Commander General Endriartono Sutarto repeatedly stressed that TNI would not take advantage of the new anti-terrorism rules and the post-bombing climate to stage a political comeback. The bombings and associated security atmosphere may thus have marginally strengthened the hands of the military, but not to the dramatic degree first feared. Challenges for Muslims A second important consequence of the Bali bombings has been to increase the isolation of hardline Islamist groups which advocate violence, although here too we shouldn't exaggerate the impact. It is well known that the majority of Indonesia's Muslim community supports religious tolerance and pluralism. Even so, since 1998 small hardline and violent groups have flourished. Underlying causes are complex, but immediate political factors have been influential. For example, it is widely believed that elements from TNI supported some militant groups, including the Jihad Militia (Laskar Jihad) which sent several thousand fighters to participate in communal conflict in Maluku. In addition, leaders of mainstream Islamic organisations (former President Abdurrahman Wahid was a notable exception) were often reluctant to confront the militants and their ideas. Vice-President Hamzah Haz, head of the Muslim United Development Party (PPP) even visited Ja'far Umar Thalib, the head of Laskar Jihad, and Abu Bakar Ba'asyir, alleged Jemaah Islamiyah leader, when they were being detained for, or accused of instigating, violent acts. Some mainstream Muslim leaders also tacitly endorsed violence when they believed Muslims were under attack (for example, Amien Rais, speaker of the People's Consultative Assembly, in 2000 publicly backed groups which wanted to go to Maluku to engage in jihad). Early after the bombing, as Greg Fealy explains in this issue, there were widely aired views in the Islamic community that such a heinous act could not possibly have been perpetrated by Muslims and must instead have been the work of foreign intelligence agencies. The police investigation initially reinforced suspicions about victimisation of Muslim groups, but the evidence it turned up eventually, it seems, convinced much of the public that an Islamist network was indeed responsible. This has significantly changed the climate in which militant Islamist groups operate. Leaders like Hamzah Haz have been forced to disavow their former flirtation with hardline groups. There have also been signs (actually first visible some weeks before the bombings) that the security forces are taking a tougher line against violent groups, evidenced by arrests of leaders of Laskar Jihad and the 'anti-vice' vigilante group, the Islamic Defenders' Front (FPI). After the Bali bombings, General Endriartono Sutarto several times stated that all informal militia in the country should be disbanded, a step taken by Laskar Jihad and FPI (although at least in the former case apparently having more to do with internal problems than government pressure). In the wake of the bombings, many liberal Muslim intellectuals adopted a primarily defensive posture, reiterating that Islam has nothing to do with terrorism. At times, it appeared there was almost a syndrome of denial that Islamic doctrine could be used to justify violence. Some Muslim leaders, however, took the offensive and moved to more vigorously promote religiously liberal and pluralistic ideas (see box). Consolidation of a new political order A third conclusion one may draw after the Bali bombings is that, despite the authorities' successes in tracking down the perpetrators, Megawati's government has been unable to reap many political benefits. Much public praise has been directed toward the police (with many letter-writers telling newspapers that this was the first time they had ever felt proud of the Indonesian police forces). But in the highest ranks of government there were many signs of the familiar bickering among cabinet members and policy drift. Megawati herself initially reacted astutely, visiting the site of the bombing the day after it took place. But within days, she had reverted to her normal remote style, and there was little sign of either symbolic or effective policy leadership on her part. Megawati's performance thus reinforced growing dissatisfaction with her personal leadership style, not only in the broad public but also in within the ranks of her own party, the Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (PDI-P). Sections of the party were critical of her decision to endorse the re-election of Jakarta mayor Sutiyoso (who is widely believed by Megawati's supporters to be responsible for a 1996 military attack on their party's headquarters). In recent months some senior party members have voiced increasingly explicit criticisms of the government and its performance. Even so, Megawati still ranks consistently highest in popularity polls for future presidential candidates. Despite early predictions in some quarters, the Bali bombing and its aftermath have not appreciably improved the prospects of a 'green' Islamic ticket (probably with Amien Rais as its chief candidate) in 2004 elections. Overall, then, what can we conclude about Indonesian politics after the Bali bombings? Above all, the violence and the response to it seem to have reinforced previously visible trends. Some of the tumult of the immediate post-Suharto period is dying down (though it can easily erupt again, especially in response to Indonesia's economic and social crisis, as a series of large demonstrations against price rises in January illustrate). The more extreme and violent Islamist groups are on the defensive. The worst communal violence in places like Maluku and Poso in Central Sulawesi seems to be declining. There are even signs, if not of permanent solutions, at least of reduced tensions in Aceh and Papua. The military is more confident. The government is still ineffective, but it looks stable. A new hybrid political order is settling into place. Indonesia does not have a perfect democracy with full-scale civilian supremacy, human rights, effective law enforcement, social justice and the like. But nor is it a system where the military and central government bureaucrats determine the fate of the country like they once did. Ed Aspinall (edward.aspinall@ asia.usyd.edu.au) is an IRIP board member and lecturer in Asian Studies at the University of Sydney. Inside Indonesia 74: Apr - Jul 2003

How to make peace

Notes from a 'five star' prison cell

A moderate majority

Puppeteers on wheels

Ritual, politics and tourism

Back to the roots

Renegotiate the debt!

Sustainable recovery

Taken by surprise

A hybrid order

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