She is much more than an opposition politician. Megawati is an idol. And possibly Indonesia's fourth president.
Stefan Eklof
On 8 October 1998 the leader of the Indonesian Democratic Party (PDI) and daughter of Indonesia's first president Sukarno, Megawati Sukarnoputri, opened the party's fifth congress in Sanur in southern Bali. The opening session was held on a large field in the outskirts of the Balinese capital Denpasar. Hundreds of thousands of Megawati's supporters dressed in the party's colours red and black flocked to the field to hear her speech.
Many had travelled for days to Bali from all over the archipelago to take part in the celebrations around the congress and to show their support for Megawati. Most of the audience, however, were Balinese youths from around the island.
As Megawati ascended the speaker's podium, the masses could hardly contain their excitement, ecstatically shouting 'Mega! Mega!'. For almost an hour, Megawati laid out her vision for Indonesia in the post-Suharto era, frequently interrupted by loud applause and choruses of approval.
Afterwards congress delegates moved to the Grand Bali Beach Hotel in Sanur to hold the rest of the sessions, all of which were closed to the public. The congress went smoothly. There were few visible lines of division between the delegates, and no disturbances occurred during any of the three congress days.
Megawati was unanimously re-elected party leader. Moreover the congress decided to nominate her as the party's candidate for the coming presidential election in November 1999.
Justice
Commonplace as it may seem, the decision by a political party to nominate its leader as a presidential candidate is unique in Indonesia's political history. No party ever dared to challenge Sukarno for the presidency before he was forced by the military to hand over power in 1966. Under the New Order, the political system was carefully designed to preserve Suharto's single candidacy for the presidency.
The government employed a range of manipulative and repressive measures to achieve this and to silence dissenting voices. In June 1996, after Megawati had hinted she might stand as a candidate in the March 1998 presidential election, the government engineered a PDI congress which ousted her as party leader and reinstated the party's former leader, Suryadi.
However, Megawati refused to acknowledge the legality of that congress, not even after Suryadi's PDI faction, backed by the military and by hired thugs, attacked and ousted her supporters from the party's central headquarters in Jakarta on 27 July 1996. At least five people were killed in the attack, which triggered the worst riot in Jakarta in more than a decade, with thousands of people burning and looting shops and government buildings in the area around the party headquarters.
Megawati continued to assert that she was the legitimate leader of the PDI, and she refused to compromise with the government and the Suryadi faction. However, the government barred her from participating in the May 1997 election. The PDI consequently performed disastrously, collecting only 3.1% of the votes, down from 14.9% in 1992. The result was widely interpreted as a sign of public disgust with the government's treatment of Megawati.
The government consistently denied her any formal role in politics. Even after Suharto resigned in May 1998 and the political climate opened up, the Habibie government continued only to acknowledge the PDI faction led by Suryadi. In August 1998 the faction held a government sponsored congress in Palu, Central Sulawesi. Here Suryadi was replaced with Budi Harjono, who had been the government's preferred candidate for the PDI chair in 1993, when Megawati first was elected.
Megawati's ousting in 1996 and the government's subsequent rough treatment of her, helped to heighten the public sense of injustice and lack of democracy under the New Order. Meanwhile, Megawati managed to stay in the political limelight through her uncompromising stance toward the government. While the affair exposed the government's heavy-handedness and manipulative methods, it also served to boost Megawati's public reputation for justice and incorruptibility.
'Megamania'
It was no coincidence that Megawati chose Bali as the venue for her congress in October. Bali is one of her strongest provinces of support. Many Balinese still hold Sukarno in high esteem - his mother was Balinese. As the congress approached, Megawati's popularity was clearly visible all around the island. The Balinese put Megawati and Sukarno posters outside their houses and stickers on their cars. Along the roads there were red flags with the PDI symbol of a buffalo head, and the text 'Pro- Megawati'.
Motorbikes had similar flags hanging from behind. People wore red T-shirts, capes, headbands and accessories with party attributes, such as badges, necklaces and key rings. Large home-painted billboards of Sukarno and Megawati decorated the roadsides in many villages.
Young Megawati supporters built bamboo sheds on poles in their neighbourhoods and hamlets, all painted red and decorated with posters of Megawati and political slogans. In the evenings, the youngsters assembled in the sheds to talk politics and to listen to protest songs and recordings of Megawati's opening speech of the congress. Every day, from the early afternoon until late at night, the main roads around Denpasar were crammed with thousands of people, mostly young men and teenagers, who rode around town in large and lively caravans of motorbikes, cars and trucks. Sitting on top of their vehicles or hanging out the windows, the celebrators tirelessly waved their red flags and shouted 'Mega! Mega!' or 'Hidup Mega!' (Long Live Mega) in chorus.
This exuberant eruption of political activity among the Balinese took place after several decades of repression of political activity. The Suharto regime aimed at depoliticising Indonesia's masses. It destroyed or emasculated existing political parties. The only approved political activity was to express support for the government's electoral vehicle, Golkar. Activists for other parties were often harassed.
Suharto's resignation in May brought about a more open political climate. It led to a virtual explosion of long-suppressed political activity around the country. Megawati's congress provided a welcome opportunity for the Balinese to celebrate their new-won political freedom.
Idol
Political commentators have often criticised Megawati for being a weak politician, lacking fundamental understanding of politics and economics and having little in terms of a concrete political program. Relevant as this critique may seem, it is primarily a view held by the political elites in Indonesia.
For Megawati's young followers, she is much more than an opposition politician, she is an idol. One Balinese high school student said: 'Megawati has been my idol ever since junior high school. [...] Because of her self-confidence, Megawati dares to be oppositional [and] to fight continuously to defend the truth.' Another student said: 'Mega is a super woman. She dares to face any obstacle whatsoever. I hope I can become like her.'
While there is no doubt that Megawati's popularity largely derives from her father's name, that does not go all the way to explain it. Megawati is able to benefit from her father's popularity because she has built a reputation for certain moral qualities of her own. Megawati's struggle against the New Order government boosted her reputation for justice, righteousness, integrity and political courage. These are also qualities that Sukarno's name represents to those Indonesians who still hold the former president's name dear. Many people also tend to see Megawati's struggle for justice against the New Order as an analogy to Sukarno's struggle for justice and independence against the Dutch in the 1930s.
Since Suharto's resignation in May, discussion about the wide- spread corruption and injustice under the New Order has created much public resentment. In contrast, Megawati symbolises justice and is untainted by corruption. She enjoys broad support among poor Indonesians who feel strongly that they were disadvantaged under the New Order, and who have yet to see things change for the better.
President?
Young Balinese showed extra-ordinary enthusiasm for Megawati, but she has large followings all around the country and from all generations. Many of her supporters belong to the poor urban masses who are among the hardest hit by the current economic crisis. If the May 1999 election even roughly reflects the popular political will, the PDI under Megawati may very well become Indonesia's largest political party, collecting perhaps 25-30% of the votes. Apart from Golkar, the PDI stands out as the only major non-Islamic political alternative.
Islamic credentials are no doubt an advantage in a country where close to 90% of the population are Muslim. But many non-Muslims and moderate Muslims are suspicious of political Islamic aspirations, and this works to Megawati's benefit. If after next year's election the PDI can strike a deal with one or more of the moderate Muslim parties, then Megawati stands a good chance of becoming Indonesia's fourth president in November 1999.
Stefan Eklof is a PhD student writing about the PDI at Lund University, Sweden. He is the author of 'Indonesian politics in crisis' (NIAS, expected out early 1999).
Inside Indonesia 57: Jan-Mar 1999
Australia's response
Beyond humanitarian assistance, should our aid program stress 'governance' or 'human rights'? Actually, both.
Philip Eldridge
There are many different ways of perceiving Indonesia's 'crisis', with many corresponding Australian responses. But the extent of human suffering, social and economic disruption experienced by the Indonesian people is undeniable. And there is widespread agreement that the humanitarian crisis and political reform must be confronted interdependently.
Such a convergence between the need for humanitarian aid and political reform offers real opportunities for change in Indonesia. But given the great uncertainty of the whole situation, and the need for action and balance across many fronts, it is important that no-one pushes their diagnoses and prescriptions to extremes, insisting on false choices between government and non-government, macro and micro level action, short-term emergency relief and longer term development, incremental programs and deeper structural change.
While everyone must specialise, we can now see how, for example, seemingly obscure issues of financial management can impact at the base of society. On the other hand, while holistic solutions are essential, these can too easily paralyse specific action on any front.
Nevertheless, there are important differences in the way various groups perceive the connection between politics and economics. A useful guide to these differences is to compare 'governance' and human rights approaches.
Governance agendas focus on issues of legal due process, accountability and transparency, open and honest elections, efficient public administration and economic management, systems and structures supportive of the conduct of commerce according to clear market rules.
By comparison, human rights principles are more normative and universal, emphasising the dignity and the physical, social and cultural well-being of the human person.
The 1993 UN Vienna Declaration asserted the indivisibility of political and legal rights from economic, social and cultural rights, often artificially divided by both earlier Cold War and ongoing 'East versus West' and 'North versus South' rhetoric.
Here my aim is to clarify means and ends, rather than setting up yet another false dichotomy of the kind I warned against earlier. It would also be wrong to see the Australian government as exclusively pursuing governance, and NGOs as entirely committed to human rights. The Australian government combines the two in sometimes confusing ways. NGOs, while basically supportive of human rights values, often find legalistic and prescriptive aspects of human rights agendas in conflict with their core participatory and voluntarist concepts of partnership.
There are many obvious points of compatibility between governance and human rights concepts. Sound structures of law, government and commerce are essential to achieving human rights. But notions of justice and mutual obligation, closely linked to rights, appear to be lacking from governance models, whose language has in part been captured to serve goals of neo-liberal economics and to justify International Monetary Fund (IMF) packages of doubtful value to Indonesia.
Conversely, a thoroughgoing human rights approach would accord basic health, nutrition, education and employment opportunities a central place, alongside civil and political rights. Requirements on signatory states to the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) to 'respect, protect and fulfil' such rights place clear obligations on both Australia and Indonesia.
Shallow
Indonesia's experience shows the shallowness of earlier development efforts, in face of deep-rooted poverty structures. Despite acknowledged, though often exaggerated improvements in basic indicators for the majority under Suharto, concentration of wealth at the top end of Indonesian society produced a too narrow base to survive full exposure to international market regimes.
The crisis faced by Indonesia's poor - again the large majority - has deepened on all major fronts. The UN Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) estimates that about 100 million Indonesians are in danger of falling below the poverty line in 1999, and more than twenty million are unemployed as a result of falling demand and production.
Growing malnutrition among children carries real dangers of their suffering long-term brain damage. The FAO has further projected an increase of 47% in rice import requirements for 1999 compared with its forecast in April, though recent news may suggest a partial recovery.
The effectiveness of Australia's contribution will in large measure depend on both the efforts of the international community and sustained 'political will' by Indonesia. The spirit in which it is given will also affect future relations. While the wisdom of Australian efforts to soften IMF conditionalities has been questioned by many Indonesians seeking political change, assertions of solidarity in hard times ('in for the long haul... not a fair weather friend' etc) by Australian leaders seem to have been mostly well received, as they have been backed up by solid financial and other support.
However, the rather didactic tone accompanying recent suggestions of a new Australian leadership role in overcoming the regional crisis requires modifying towards a language of dialogue if effective cooperation is to be maintained.
AusAid
Australian government responses have largely followed the 'governance' approach, though tempered by a considerable humanitarian spirit. Many new programs relate to statistical data gathering, financial and economic management in both public and private sectors, while new fields of technical assistance and professional exchange are opened up.
Given the overall tight budgetary climate, increases in financial allocations to Indonesia have been significant. Australia's annual pledge to the World Bank sponsored Consortium Group for Indonesia (CGI) rose from AU$74 million in July 1997 to AU$120 million in July 1998. Additionally, Indonesia may win up to half of a new AU$6m Asia Crisis Fund open to competitive bidding within the official aid agency AusAid. Flexibility has also been extended to local counterpart costs, which have risen by up to 100%.
AusAid has joined with the World Bank in supporting a scholarship scheme for secondary school students, aimed at keeping them at school during hard times. But the mass of poor children never proceed beyond primary level, while basic nutrition programs are essential to maintaining school attendance. Many local groups and small NGOs are either unaware of or are unable to access such schemes. Monitoring of World Bank programs has now become a major concern, not least to the Bank itself, particularly with regard to lower level distribution channels.
Drought relief and food aid have been stepped up, both directly and through NGOs, together with ongoing programs in the field of water supply and agriculture. Technical assistance is being supplied to programs coordinated by Indonesia's National Planning Institute (Bappenas) and the World Bank to design and monitor labour intensive works programs in four eastern Indonesian provinces, including drought relief programs.
At the same time, Australian exports of wheat and cotton will benefit from higher export insurance cover up to $900 million. Finally, in responding across a wider front, it appears that AusAid will maintain its long-term commitment to Eastern Indonesia, one of Indonesia's poorest regions, where experience, infrastructure and relationships have been steadily built up.
Beyond government
There has been an encouraging range of responses from semi- government and non-government groups, partly supported from AusAid funds. In the area of legal and human rights, AusAid has supported the Asian Forum of National Human Rights Institutions through the (Australian) Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission (HREOC), which provides the Secretariat. The Forum is an important vehicle for cooperation between HREOC and Indonesia's National Human Rights Commission.
The newly established Centre for Democratic Institutions will emphasise exchanges between practitioners in fields such as public administration, electoral practice and constitutional law.
The Australian Legal Resources Group, acting as funding arm for the International Commission of Jurists, cooperates with Indonesian NGOs and members of the judiciary in evaluations, exchanges and training. Administrative law and judicial ethics have been selected as key areas. Transparency International Australia is working with Indonesian NGOs towards a 'national integrity' workshop ahead of elections due in May 1999.
Space does not allow coverage of efforts across many fields, while some groups, on the advice of Indonesian partners, prefer to avoid publicity. Media is an emerging field of cooperation. Despite long standing links on the labour front, effective cooperation between Indonesian NGOs and the international union movement has yet to be established. Here, a large influx of US aid funds may distort goals of labour and democratic organisation more generally.
Smaller scale, but significant programs featured in the recent Australian Council For Overseas Aid (ACFOA) workshop included self-help groups working directly with the urban poor, assisted by Australian and New Zealand expatriates in Indonesia and individuals based in Australia. Some young Australians have been inspired by the generosity of Indonesians amidst their own poverty to conduct a round Australia cycle fund-raising tour.
My conclusion is both practical and theoretical. In action terms, Indonesia's crisis is multi-faceted, with opportunities for cooperation across the full spectrum of Australian and Indonesian life and society. Such efforts can and do make a difference provided they are contextualised and undertaken in a spirit of partnership.
Aims underlying my more political advocacy of a human rights approach - yet to be fully developed in Australia's regional relations - include: (1) balancing more technocratic aspects of the 'governance' agenda with an ethos of rights, justice and mutual obligation; (2) reinforcing integration and 'indivisibility' between politico-legal and socio-cultural- economic spheres of action; and (3) strengthening holistic perspectives of the Australia-Indonesia partnership in overcoming poverty.
Dr Eldridge is Honorary Research Associate, Department of Government, University of Tasmania. He is currently researching Australian human rights policies in Southeast Asia.
Inside Indonesia 57: Jan-Mar 1999
No turning back
Indonesia's fragile post-Suharto transition is threatened by social conflict as much as by squabbles among the elite. But this international meeting of non-government organisations declares that the uncertainty is all the more reason to push on towards democracy.
Infid (and friends)
Indonesia's political situation is uncertain. The hand-over of power from Suharto to Habibie merely created an even more serious political crisis. The armed forces Abri, one of the pillars of the New Order, is experiencing delegitimation over revelations that they were involved in serious human rights violations such as kidnapping political activists and killing demonstrators. Yet Abri is still on the political stage, and the possibility that 'reformasi' may be reversed and turned back to authoritarianism remains very great. Recently, for example, there have been signs of increasing violence and the suspicion that murders are being committed for political ends.
The economic crisis, meanwhile, has grown more serious. Although in October the rupiah strengthened somewhat, this has coincided with signs of the impending collapse of global capitalism. In other words, the Indonesian economy faces not merely a national crisis but a global economic recession. The goal of strengthening the economy of the majority of ordinary people therefore requires a clear strategy not only at the national but at the global level.
Horizontal friction within society over religion and ethnicity (known in Indonesia as primordialism) is spreading. The political euphoria that has given birth to more than 100 political parties is an indirect expression of weak solidarity and of limited perspectives within civil society as it faces the challenge of an expanded political space. Conflicts within the body politic are now no longer confined to those between factions of the power elite, as happened in the run-up to the fall of Suharto, but are now tending to expand into conflicts between various groups within society, with serious implications.
This fragile political transition needs to be watched carefully so that these conflicts do not end up obliterating the opportunity to create democracy in Indonesia. Non-government organisations (NGOs) are being called on to play a more concrete and organised role, to sustain the transition towards democracy at every level - regional, national and international.
We who are attending this meeting have agreed to build a coalition of international NGOs on the basis of our common commitment to democracy and human rights.
The purpose of this coalition is to develop a democratic political process based on respect for human rights. Its strategy will be to mobilise the broadest possible non-partisan support for democracy in various constituencies within civil society by organising and by providing political education.
The coalition will seek to:
Maintain and expand the available political space;
Contribute to the transformation of non-democratic institutions and practices, such as a) Abri dual function, b) the centralisation of power and the looting of the regions by the centre, c) the five political laws of the New Order era, and d) corruption;
Build the broadest possible alliances to support these goals by recognising the specific needs of (for example) indigenous groups, local cultures, religious groups, etc;
Involve itself in creative dialogue with political parties and other social groups in order to promote healthy democratic debate;
Organise and mobilise international support for democratising initiatives;
Conduct public political education in order to develop democratic outlooks;
Urge the international community to support the empowerment of civil society and of social movements by giving its direct support (funding, information, networking, etc) to NGOs and other social groups.
Jakarta, 24 October 1998.
Infid is a coalition of about a hundred NGOs. Half are Indonesian, the other half are based in the major donor countries interested in Indonesia, including Europe, Japan, North America and Australia. The meeting in Jakarta 23-24 October 1998 was hosted by Infid. It aimed to consider the role of NGOs in the transition towards democracy in Indonesia. Invited participants from South Africa, South Korea, and Chile shared their experience of transition. This statement was produced at the meeting.
Inside Indonesia 57: Jan-Mar 1999
Pak Wertheim
Obituary
Professor Herb Feith
Pak Wertheim, the founder of modern Indonesian studies in Holland, was nearly 91 when he died. Like others who die at an advanced age, much of his story had faded from public memory by that time.
W F Wertheim was Holland's counterpart to America's George McT Kahin. The first edition of his 'Indonesian society in transition' came out in 1950, two years before Kahin's 'Nationalism and revolution in Indonesia', and each was a foundational work on which many others built.
But Wertheim belonged to an earlier generation of Indonesia specialists. While Kahin's involvements began only at the end of World War 2, Wertheim arrived in Batavia in 1931 and soon afterwards began to teach at its Law School. In 1940 he was appointed to the small Visman Commission, a prestigious government body formed to examine the colony's constitutional future.
Whereas Kahin spent most of World War 2 in the American army, where he learned Dutch, Wertheim spent most of it in Japanese prison camps in Java.
Each was an active partisan of the Indonesian republic during its revolutionary struggle for independence. And each of them continued to be academics in an engaged style. In 1951 Wertheim declined an invitation to teach in Indonesia. His decision was a protest against the Sukiman government's inviting the Nazi-tainted Hjalmar Schacht to Indonesia as an economic adviser. Echoes of Dr Tjipto Mangoenkoesomo who ridiculed a decoration from the colonial government for his contributions to the eradication of contagious disease.
In the Suharto years Wertheim gave active support to Dutch and other European organisations publicising the plight of political prisoners in Indonesia. He also wrote frequently about the coup attempt of 1 October 1965, and specifically on Suharto's mysterious interactions on its eve with Colonel Latief, a key member of the group of plotters.
Pak Wertheim will be remembered for the encouragement he gave to people who went on to become scholars and teachers in their own right. One of those is the late Yale historian Harry Benda, who met Wertheim when they were both in Japanese prison camps in Java. A second is the Bogor rural sociologist Sayogyo, who as Kampto Utomo was Wertheim's assistant and PhD supervisee when the latter taught at Bogor in 1956-67. In recent decades Sayogyo has become famous for his research on innovative methods of measuring poverty.
When the transnational history of post-World War 2 Indonesian studies is written Wertheim will emerge as a foundational figure. And if there is ever a history of the radical stream within that tradition he will emerge as one of its most inspirational members.
Professor Herb Feith is himself one of the founders of Indonesian studies in Australia. He currently teaches in Yogyakarta.
Inside Indonesia 57: Jan-Mar 1999
Globalisation challenge
Globalisation offers only disaster to Indonesia's poor. Student demonstrators should extend their protest to the powers governing their economy.
Wim F Wertheim
During the 1990s the word 'globalisation' has become a fashionable word. Literally it only means a worldwide spread, which could pertain to many different things including the spread of ideas. When the term 'globalisation' is used by politicians or the media it is mostly about the spread of market influence in economic and political life over the whole world.
However, when we speak of the Third World (which was the most important area of work for Gerrit Huizer and myself for the past 25 years) then globalisation has absolutely nothing to do with that kind of world.
The so-called 'Asian flu' which broke out in the financial world proves that whereas global players play at a sort of hazardous game, it has very serious consequences for the still poor peoples of East and Southeast Asia.
What has been happening in Indonesia during the last year, affecting its economy and social cohesiveness, may serve as a warning for the present near-religious belief in the benefits of the market being promoted on a global scale.
IMF restructuring
In reality there has not been much change under President Habibie. There are no massive protests against the real causes of the economic crisis. Yet if one follows the process which led irrefutably to the fall of Suharto, one should realise that it was a direct consequence of a damaging requirement by the IMF to restructure the economy.
One of these demands was the scrapping, or at least gradual elimination, of the long-standing government subsidies for energy, which existed to keep costs down for the population. The government was thus responsible for the massive increase of 50%- 70% in prices by withdrawing the subsidies.
Globalisation of the economy, introduced by western business, had absolutely no concern for the interests of the Asian population. The only purpose for Indonesian as well as foreign investors, bankers and creditors, was to make sure they could realise the return of their loans of millions that they had so carelessly advanced.
In this rage of western globalisation the IMF and the World Bank play a crucial role. A 'free market' has nothing to do with reaching a certain 'free economic trade' for the seriously impoverished population of Indonesia and other countries affected by the 'Asian flu', but has only the purpose of making investment in Asia advantageous for western bankers and investors.
The important journal Derde Wereld has devoted a special issue to the question: 'Are the World Bank and the IMF ready for the 21st century?'. One citation from it is as follows: 'As lender of last resort for countries with liquidity deficits, the IMF insures the investors against financial losses, and demands from the poor that they pay the price.'
The same issue of Derde Wereld says frankly: 'The IMF has been making a true religion of its neo-liberal economic policies. Consequently it is considered sacrilegious to ask questions about the basic principles of this new religion.' Anyway, neither the IMF nor the World Bank, established in the USA at the end of World War II, were bodies which represented the whole world; they were only products of the Cold War which had just started.
As far as Indonesia is concerned, the Wall Street Journal has all of a sudden discovered what people who studied the country already knew 20 years ago, namely that the usual praises of Indonesia as being one of the young Asian tigers were based on pure wishful thinking, and that the World Bank itself was not innocent of the creation of this image.
We can now easily see that all the misery which the population of Southeast Asia experience at the moment is for a great part the result of the whole process of globalisation that has been enforced by the western world - and that the IMF as well as the World Bank also have to share in the creation of this world disaster.
I would like to pose the crucial question: Is it possible for the Indonesian populace to expect something positive from a new multi-billion dollar loan from the IMF? For let us realise, it would only be a loan. And this will have to be paid back in the future, with interest. There is no way that the IMF or the World Bank will just cancel the debt of a Third World government from the 'goodness of their heart'. Jan Breman has said the same thing: 'The World Bank's aim is to protect its own outstanding capital and to have it returned with profit if possible. It does not differ in the least from an ordinary bank.'
It is clear that the present Habibie regime, supported by the military echelons, is again ready to adjust to the IMF decisions. This brings the important question: Will the spirit of this year's Indonesian opposition develop within the foreseeable future into an all-embracing resistance that might be able to withstand the foreign pressure and the demands of the IMF?
Students
We may certainly view the students' actions, which were so instrumental in Suharto's resignation, as a form of struggle for emancipation. What is still lacking is an ideological motive for a resistance that goes further than 'reformasi' of the state apparatus and which strives for a change on the political level.
It must be understood that in the first place it is not a question of substituting people at the top of the government, but of knowing what powers govern the economy. This must involve breaking a taboo that during the years 1965-66 became the basis of the 'Orde Baru' and that for 32 years has been considered inviolable.
In a very important doctoral thesis, the Dutch sociologist Saskia Wieringa demonstrated in detail that from the beginning of October 1965 the Indonesian military elite manipulated public opinion by systematically accusing the PKI of being responsible for the murder of the generals in which Suharto himself was closely involved. In this media campaign, Gerwani - the left-wing movement for the emancipation of women and closely linked with the communists - was portrayed as a group of godless prostitutes who attended the murders and had participated in all sorts of animal lusts. This was the signal for the terrible murder of communists when more than half a million innocent people were butchered.
This reign of terror has resulted in the fact that still very few people in Indonesia dare to state publicly that communist or socialist ideas might be a basis for a final solution of economic problems.
Under these circumstances it can not be expected that all of a sudden a new Indonesian government will come to power that can withstand the demands of the IMF on principle. At the most one could hope for a stronger nationalist-oriented government, which could emulate the Malaysian prime minister Mahathir Mohamad, who is trying to withstand the IMF's demands. But it is still too early for the development of a truly 'globalised' struggle for emancipation by the peoples of the Third World from the powers of Washington.
This article is extracted from the last paper Professor Wertheim wrote. He died, aged nearly 91, on 2 November 1998. Chris Williams was the translator.
Inside Indonesia 57: Jan-Mar 1999
Help that helps
Millions are on welfare. But can it make a difference to their future?
Vanessa Johanson
Hand outs. Everyone is doing it. Government departments ranging from the Department of Mines and Energy to the Department of Tourism, non-government organisations, the World Bank, fast-food joints and newspapers, middle and upper-class philanthropists from inside and outside Indonesia, foreign governments, foreign companies and village heads - all have their own reasons for wanting to give out food to Indonesia's 100 million or more very poor.
As unemployment and inflation continue to soar, the need for affordable food is indeed enormous. As of the middle of October '98, the cheapest rice available in neighbourhood markets in Java is between Rp 2,600 þ 3,000 a kilo. Compare this to the wage of a Jakarta building construction worker þ in most cases unchanged since the crisis began - who earns around Rp 6,000 a day. Meanwhile, the Bandung factory-worker who makes the bricks and tiles for the same building earns only about Rp 2,500 a day.
I went to the field on 18 October with Bandung Peduli, a small, nine-month-old food security non-government organisation (NGO) working in villages in Bandung and West Java. We traveled to the green back blocks of Padalarang, previously a busy industrial area. We carried several hundred packages of food, each containing 10 kilos of rice and 0.25 kilo of salted fish.
Two Bandung Peduli voluntary teams had preceded us there in the past weeks to survey the level of need in the area and identify the individuals most in need of help. Initially they had spoken to Bapak Machmud, a local social worker, who had introduced them to various families.
The Bandung Peduli volunteers þ students from local universities þ had asked the families about their weekly income expenditure, number of children, work, land, type of housing, sanitation and health-care used, and about other kinds of assistance available to them. In practice, those qualifying for help from Bandung Peduli are families with both parents unemployed and no fertile land.
In the kampung we visited, Cibadap, most families originate from other areas, and moved to Cibadap to work in small brick, tile and marble factories. The construction industry has collapsed in the economic crisis.
Ibu Elli and her husband work in a factory. 'The factories are still going', she said 'but we only work about two weeks in a month. Lots of people have been laid off.' Meanwhile, the green paddies and cassava gardens in the area are mostly owned by people 'from the city' who once employed locals to cultivate them. Now the 'city people' employ jobless relatives.
'Anyhow, the land is no good,' said another Cibadap woman. 'You can't grow much at all.' Part of the government's intensive labour program is to grow food on every centimetre of available land, employing the unemployed millions and utilising some of the long- controversial Reforestation Fund. This program has many critics. 'By the time the money gets to us half of it is gone and so has several weeks of our time. It's not worth it,' intimated a Palembang NGO worker.
What about the future?
Ridlo Eisy, the director of Bandung Peduli, says, 'We are proud of our careful multiple survey technique. Most government programs just turn up in the villages with a truck of food and unload it on the doorstep of the village head or at the village cooperative. Sometimes it then gets sold outside, or distributed to the wrong people. However, we know exactly who we are giving food to.'
One of the men in the village, his broken thongs repaired with a small stapler, approached Ridlo with important questions. 'We have already been given this and that: seeds and a small wage for labour from the government intensive labour fund in order to grow timber and vegetables, basic food stuffs from you. But what about the future? We all know that children here need to go to school. The factories only take high school graduates. And sooner or later there have to be work opportunities. Can't you help us finish building the school? We use it already, but the walls leak.'
Ridlo's answer reflects both his organisation's minimal funds, but also its philosophy of encouraging kampung people to help themselves. 'Well, why don't you set up "Cibadap Peduli"? If there's only 10% of people in the village working right now, they can help buy the construction material. The unemployed men can then finish the building.'
In several kampungs, Bandung Peduli has helped set up Warung Peduli, a self-sustaining rice shop. They get an initial batch of rice from Bandung Peduli, which they then sell cheaply and use the profits to buy more rice to sell cheaply, and also to fund other small local projects.
Other initiatives include giving help to local people to work on their own community development. One focus of such work is finding alternative employment for and educating the escalating numbers of young girls becoming prostitutes in almost every village.
As the packets of food were unloaded in a muddy vacant lot, I asked 12-year-old Nur where her school was. 'Oh, a few kilometres up the road,' she replied. 'I just came down here to watch the food distribution.' She was with a group of her friends, enjoying the entertainment. 'Does your dad work around here?' I asked.
'No. He doesn't work. He used to work in the factory. Now he doesn't.'
'Your mum?'
'She doesn't work either.'
'Does she have a garden?'
'Oh yes, she works in the garden.'
The other children listened carefully, inching closer, so I asked a collective question: 'Are you all going to school then?'
'Ye-e-es.'
'Do your dads work in the factory?'
'No-o-o .... Where are you from, miss?'
'This village is unusual in this respect,' confirmed Kania Roesli, a founding member of Bandung Peduli. 'People sell their furniture and even their cutlery so that they can keep sending their kids to school.'
Bandung Peduli estimates that over 4 million people in West Java are threatened with starvation, and that nearly 15 million live below the poverty line. They know their work is piece-meal and unsustainable. 'It's going to take the whole macro economy to turn around before we can really see a big change here,' says Kania. 'In the mean time we want to at least ease people's worries about basic food stuffs temporarily so that they can think about other opportunities.'
Food gardens
Other individuals and organisations are more active in chasing these other opportunities. In Central Java, for example, a group of local NGOs are focusing their efforts on teaching people with small plots how to produce fertilizer with compost. With the right procedure, a villager with a small amount of exhausted land can have flourishing food garden growing in a matter of months. With much of the densely populated land in Java severely degraded by chemical use and other problems, such programs are vital.
The total estimated aid for food security and the social safety net from various sources now stands at around Rp 17 trillion. In Jakarta, some of the 'hand-outs' from bi- and multi-lateral donors are filtered through the Community Recovery Program (CRP), which then grants the funds to small, short-term projects which otherwise 'fall through the cracks.' CRP insists that its grantees combine short-term food relief with medium-term goals, such as income generation and employment creation programs, which in practice translate into programs for micro-enterprise training, simple technology introduction to add value to products, developing new agricultural products and rice substitute crops and so on.
A glance at the most recent statistics on economic growth from the Central Bureau of Statistics should send a strong message to policy makers about priority areas to focus on. Small industry shows an 11% contraction þ a huge drop, but significantly better than medium to large industry which shows a 14% contraction for the same period from January to September 1998.
Meanwhile, the farming sector is the only sector which shows any growth at all so far this year, with 0.23% growth. The small enterprise and farming sectors absorbed the vast majority (an estimated 60%) of all Indonesian workers before the crisis, and have the potential to do so again.
On the macro level, in order to provide real and sustainable food security, and eventual economic recovery, the government must implement policies which encourage (or simply 'get off the backs of') small enterprise and farmers.
On the way home from Padalarang I ate toasted banana with cheese and chocolate under the canvas of 'Sense of Crisis Cafe', one of the new, trendy and cheap roadside warungs. The thousands of new city mini-cafes are the colourful face of krismon (krisis moneter), often set up by students, laid-off bank and other office workers, and even by singers and soap stars. They have become fashionable weekend hang-outs for those who can't afford restaurants and night- clubs anymore. They represent the kind of creative entrepreneurship which is capable of flourishing in Indonesia when given the opportunity.
Vanessa Johanson is an Australian writer in Jakarta. Contact Bandung Peduli at Jl Supratman No. 57, Bandung, West Java, Indonesia, tel/fax 62-22-705 527, email mridlo@melsa.net.id. Contact CRP at Program PKM, Jl Tebet Barat Dalam No. 38, Tebet Barat, Jakarta, Indonesia, tel 62-21-828 0050.
Inside Indonesia 57: Jan-Mar 1999
Shelter from the rain
Funding cuts and apathy make life difficult for 2000 street kids in Semarang.
Jane Eaton
It is a sweltering hot Friday morning and I'm on a mission, but first I must go and visit some friends at the local bus stop.
'Hey guys, what's up?'
Hmmmm cool response.
'What's wrong?' Silence.
Definitely a cool response.
'Are you mad at me?'
Kneeling down I look for some explanation of the cold shoulder. And then I see the teardrops, pause before they fall. My heart shatters.
Others notice the tears. A small crowd of onlookers quickly assembles. After the apologies and hugging I finally convince him to take a break and come for a ride with me.
There are now over 2000 street kids in Semarang. Yogie, the young boy with the tough exterior is typical of the kids who visited the shelter. Initially when the drop-in centre first started there were around 10 to 15 boys residing at the shelter. The lack of social services in this, Brisbane's sister city (but bigger!), has meant that numbers grew quickly.
The shelter was established in early 1997 as a joint project between the United Nations Development Program, the Indonesian Department of Welfare, and local charities. Shelters were set up in all major cities with enough funding for two years of operation.
Needless to say, funds here were quickly 'dispersed'. In early November, only seven months after it started, the Semarang shelter closed its doors.
Four of us pile into a becak (pedicab) and head off to find the elusive Ibu Indrah, the proprietor of a now empty shop space at the back of the market. One young boy, who sleeps in the market, suggested we rent the shop space as a safe place for a couple of the kids to live. The boy at the market was actually sleeping in a small cavity between the roof of the market building and the top of the shop - a space 50cm high.
After the usual false starts we finally locate Ibu Indrah in her new premises. Eventually I'm allowed to enter. The boys are too 'dirty' to be allowed in and are asked to wait outside. 'Well it's worth a shot', I think to myself. 'She'll probably say no, but I can't come this far and back out now, especially not in front of the boys.'
Edi and I put forward our offer to rent the place so that the children will have somewhere safe and out of the rain to live. After some hesitation she decides that we may use the shop for free, as the building will be demolished in the coming months.
With the precious keys in hand we pile back into the becak and head back. This time the ride is much more cheerful as we boast to the becak driver of our success. We agree to meet later in the day to start cleaning the place up.
Back to the streets
Whether the original shelter will open again and what form it will take is still unclear. A meeting was held recently with rumours flying thick and fast that the shelter would re-open. It has since been made clear to the kids that this isn't going to happen. The high publicity event was perhaps just a political manoeuvre. One claim is that an ambitious local Welfare Department head was trying to impress, another is that the local partners were trying to cover up the shelter's closure from visiting dignitaries.
For a project bedded in altruistic motives, politics and corruption has sullied the street kids' chance at shelter. The situation first began to disintegrate in July of 1997, when the shelter's guardian quit in disgust at the corrupt management practices of the local Welfare Department.
Without any programme officers to monitor the shelter, local thugs moved in, and the children moved back onto the streets.
Another shelter in Semarang, where many of the children used to live before they were forced to move to this government sponsored shelter, had also been forced to close its doors after being attacked in a midnight raid by local thugs. There was nowhere to go, except back to the streets.
Why is there so much apathy and resentment against street children? It is unclear. The national authorities as well as regional and local authorities have little patience for the plight of street children.
But the problem isn't going to disappear through lack of attention, or as sometimes happens, physical intimidation. Around 15,000 people are losing their jobs every day in Indonesia. As the economy contracts so too does the ability of the family to afford their children's welfare.
In August the Education Minister revealed that only 54% of school aged children had actually enrolled, leaving 46% of Indonesian children out there in the 'real world' with the grown ups. It is a lot easier to intimidate and exploit a child than an adult. They make excellent workers in this period of international competitiveness and free trade.
It is now lunchtime and the heat is oppressive. The five of us meet outside the shop which the kids will soon call home. We're armed with brooms and detergent and are attracting the stares of passers by. The shop is located above the market's rubbish dump. On a day as hot as this one the smell is nauseating. However, like the first rule of real estate says - location, location, location.
We jiggle the key in the lock and push open the door to find a dark cave tangled with spider webs, rats, cockroaches and other bugs, not to mention a number of rotting cat carcasses. At least 5cm of dust covers the floor. How long has this place been empty?
We rip down the curtains and throw out the old magazines and newspapers carpeting the floor. The garbage scavengers come and pick out redeemable pieces of clothing and furniture. For four hours that day we clean, sweep, scrub, wash and sweat. Needless to say with enthralled onlookers adding their two cents worth where they felt necessary. How to clean the cat's imprint off the tiles - suggestions anyone?
Earlier this year research by the Jakarta based Atma Jaya University revealed that within the first three months of living on the streets in Indonesia children are sexually abused at least once.
The short and long term effects of this environment on the children is frightening. The International Labour Organisation has warned that the prostitution/ sex industry accounts for up to 14% of Gross National Product in Southeast Asian countries. This was estimated before the crisis took hold. Indonesia's sex industry depends on a constant supply of vulnerable children. A third of prostitutes are under age. Where do they come from? From previously stable families who no longer have choices.
The future
It is important to look beyond the immediate fiscal implications of the economic crisis. Much more is at stake than balance sheets and foreign reserves. The negative effects of the economic crisis are rupturing the very fabric of society.
What are the long-term consequences of having half a generation grow up in poverty on the streets, being used and using others to survive? What life skills are they acquiring and which of these will they be passing on to their children in 10 to 15 years time? Is this the 'lost generation', without hope and without a future? Will this generation be able to regain a sense of social structure not based on the survival of the fittest mentality of the streets?
What will be the face of Indonesian society in ten years time, when this generation emerges into the spotlight? Endless questions with no immediate answer. The problem is only made worse by the closing of social services, like the Semarang shelter.
We buy some straw mats for the floor, and sit down to congratulate ourselves on a job well done. We order drinks, and dream of how we will use the place for a part time informal school or drop-in centre. How this will be a safe house for the little kids, where no big bullies are allowed to beat us up or bring their girlfriends.
As we dream and plan, the rain finally begins to fall. At last the rainy season has come and the temperature has dropped. Lucky we found this place just in time, no more nights under a wet leaky roof.
Postscript: The rain kept falling that night until the city was covered with water. Edi, being the true gentleman that he is, escorted me through the flooded markets out to the flooded streets in the pouring rain. After paying an exorbitant price for a taxi ride, I finally crashed into bed; and stayed there for the next three days crippled with dysentery. The old market building was burnt in a suspected arson attack in late September.
Jane Eaton was a volunteer in Semarang who now lives near Brisbane, Australia.
Inside Indonesia 57: Jan-Mar 1999
Silent resistance - review
Laine Berman, Speaking through the silence: Narratives, social conventions and power in Java, New York, Oxford University Press, 1998, Hbk ISBN 019-510-8884, AU$140.
Reviewed by DAMIEN KINGSBURY
There has been much acknowledgement of the 'levels' of language in Javanese society. Many observers - usually half informed - have noted the 'polite' and 'refined' aspects of the language. However, with Speaking through the silence, Laine Berman not only offers one of the most detailed accounts of Javanese culture, she identifies the quite pronounced power relations inherent in the Javanese language.
Berman's understanding of Javanese language and culture is based on her years of living and working in Yogyakarta, with ordinary families as well as within the confines of the palace. The focus of her study identifies the hierarchical power relations between different social levels in Javanese society, as well as between men and women.
Several characters in Berman's book are well brought to life, but she saves the most attention for a young woman who works in a local garment factory. Conditions are slave-like, but she has difficulty in even talking about them, or having them listened to. The 'silence' here is that which speaks most, though the gaps in communication are noticeable throughout. 'Politeness' is maintained through a use of non-language. One cannot offend or challenge if utterances are devoid of meaning.
When the protagonist does finally break loose of her restrictive 'cultural' bonds she is sacked. The lesson is that while what is defined as Javanese culture and its so-called refinement remains intact, there is little hope for the social or political emancipation of ordinary Javanese (and hence Indonesian) people.
From a scholarly perspective, Berman's work is thorough and detailed and it rewards close reading. Indonesianist academics and more general anthropologists and linguists should all find this book essential reading. It is a strong work and will undoubtedly find its well deserved place within the canon of texts on Indonesia. Only those with a vested interest in the Javanese status quo, or who have a misplaced sense of appreciation for what passes for Javanese 'politeness' and 'refinement', will come away from this book disappointed.
Dr Damien Kingsbury Damien.Kingsbury@arts.monash.edu.au is Executive Officer at the Monash Asia Institute, Melbourne, Australia.
Inside Indonesia 58: Apr-Jun 1999
Java is the key
Review: Damien Kingsbury, The politics of Indonesia, Melbourne, Oxford University Press, 1998, 286pp, Pbk ISBN 0-19-550626-X, AU$29.95.
Reviewed by JONATHAN PING
This is an accessible text. It is one of the few books to achieve simplicity while still providing the reader with insights that can only come from years of analysis. The text explains the basic elements of Indonesian politics and political history without resorting to excessive detail. The result is a text which enables the reader to understand the motivations and precedents of Indonesian politics.
Kingsbury begins with traditional and colonial influences and carries the reader, with ever more detail, through to the present political and economic crisis. His thesis follows a common line that Indonesian politics, based in Javanese history, essentially remains unchanged by modern international or Western society. They follow their own internally determined rather than externally influenced path. The motives of Suharto, student protesters and Abri, among the many groups discussed, are understood through examples of their actions and an understanding of this thesis.
The book is structured into short chapters, which are enhanced by brief sub-sections on elements within each topic. This allows for a cover to cover reading, or admission to a specific topic such as ‘Tommy’ and the national car project, or corruption and Abri.
For the advanced reader Kingsbury has included two sections of interest: ‘Looking ahead: 1998 and beyond’ and ‘Epilogue: The fall of Suharto’. Here he dips into futurology. Political ‘openness’, for example, is ‘likely to be a short term phenomenon’ (p246). On Habibie’s presidency: his ‘elevation appears only to have been accepted by Abri as a precondition for installing its own candidate at a more opportune time’ (p244). General Wiranto is included in the list of potential future dictators (presidents)! Kingsbury’s outlook is bleak. Rather than seeing an embryonic democracy he argues that ‘any future Indonesian government will be more, rather than less, influenced by Abri’ (p249).
This is a valuable starting point for more study and provides all the references required. Kingsbury’s writing style is readable and at times entertaining. For example his account of the ecstasy and heroin-taking, BMW or Mercedes-driving children of the elite is amusing in comparison with his discussion of their mass murdering and corrupt parents.
Jonathan Ping <jping@arts.adelaide.edu.au> is a lecturer and postgraduate student in politics at the University of Adelaide, Australia.
Inside Indonesia 58: Apr-Jun 1999
In this issue
Never again
Frankly, as we began preparing this edition ahead of Indonesia’s first democratic elections in 44 years, I expected there to be more joy and optimism than there is in the pieces that make it up. Suharto is gone, the military is under enormous pressure to justify its existence on the political stage, press freedom is wide open, political parties and labour unions are free to organise.
There is a deal of euphoria of course, also in the articles you are about to read. Women are on the move with surging energy. The environmental movement is as vigorous as ever. And East Timor could be free within a year.
And yet there is more anxiety than euphoria. Fear that a history of fraudulent New Order elections may have permanently ruined the chances of holding a fair one. Dismay that the military will still refuse to allow the police to civilianise once more. Dread also of the demons within society itself. Even in a remote place like Sumba that has been peaceful for decades there is now conflict between neighbours. Exasperation that even the most radical pro-democracy activists, the students, are not radical enough to really demand total transformation (this last one was pointed out by the remarkable Mangunwijaya, who died aged nearly 70 as we went to press).
But of course it was naive to think that all would be rosy once Suharto was gone. You build a system on state-orchestrated violence for three decades and then it collapses. When the dust cloud clears what do you see? Certainly not a fully functional democratic system. You will see ruins, and feel a sense of anxiety.
So why burden readers in societies whose economies are humming along and whose democratic institutions actually seem to work with such gloomy reporting? For lots of reasons to do with human solidarity and just plain neighborliness, first of all.
But also because we can draw immensely valuable lessons here about the end result of authoritarianism. For years the West had little trouble thinking of Suharto’s regime as just something that suited Indonesians, who after all hold Asian values dear. Anyway, it was delivering the goods of economic growth. Now the long-term consequences of that view are becoming clear. Authoritarianism, militarism, elitism, kills. It kills individual victims, it also kills civic institutions. The lesson surely is: whatever the future holds, never again a military dictator, never again the short-cut to prosperity that Suharto offered.
Gerry van Klinken
Inside Indonesia 58: Apr-Jun 1999
More than six decades after being inspired as an undergraduate in Sydney, Ron Witton retraces his Indonesian language teacher's journey back to Suriname