John R. G. Djopari, Pemberontakan Organisasi Papua Merdeka (Revolt of the OPM), Jakarta: Gramedia, 1993. 180pp. RRP: Rp 7,000 (approx. AU$4.00 in Indonesian bookstores).
Maj.-Gen. Samsudin, Pergolakan di Perbatasan - operasi pembebasan sandera tanpa pertumpahan darah (Border Troubles - bloodless operations to free hostages), Jakarta: Gramedia, 1995, 463 pp. RRP: Rp 15,000 (AU$8.50).
Reviewed by Gerry van Klinken
After four and half months, the hostage crisis in Irian Jaya was resolved with military action. Two hostages died, as did more than two dozen combatants on both sides through accidents or battle. It is important to grasp the longevity of the political problems in the territory, which cry out for fundamental change. These two timely books, in their own way, do something to make us think there are Indonesians who realise this.
Samsudin's book is written in the genre of memoirs of heroic deeds. It recounts in detail his own role (with the rank of colonel in the Indonesian army) in resolving a series of hostage crises between 1978 and 1982. Besides illustrating that hostage-taking is almost a traditional OPM strategy, the story is remarkable because it takes pride in the fact that all the crises were resolved without shedding blood (except for the death of a helicopter crew in a crash).
The five different events ranged from the taking of the Abepura Military Region Commander to the taking of a large group of junior government officials and local workers. Some took as long as 8 months to resolve, by means of trusted civilian mediators. There are many fascinating photos.
OPM
Djopari's book is thinner, yet more substantial. It is only the second full study on the OPM to appear in Indonesia. The first was done by Nazaruddin Sjamsuddin, who also supervised this one. Djopari comes from Irian Jaya and teaches at the Interior Ministry's Institute of Government Studies. He travelled widely for this study and is remarkably open about his observations.
Both revolt and collaboration have always been matters for a small elite in West Papua. The Dutch who ruled the territory till 1962 recognised this, and so did the Indonesians. However, Indonesia's misfortune was that its economy was in such a shambles in 1962 that it could offer the Papuan elite nothing.
The Dutch had poured money into the territory in the late 'fifties and early 'sixties, making the Papuan elite feel, Djopari says, 'as if they were not being colonised'. In stark contrast, Indonesians stripped the place bare, even taking to Java the aircraft steps from the Biak International Airport. Attempts to socialise the notion of Indonesian-ness failed dismally, Djopari notes, because the standard line that Dutch colonialism impoverishes the people just did not ring true.
Crude
In the absence of a soft pillow for the elite, the government resorted to crude intimidation by Ali Moertopo's Special Operations (Opsus). In the process it created a unity in dissent that may never have existed before.
As so often, the coloniser provided a vocabulary for the colonised. The name Organisasi Papua Merdeka (OPM, Free Papua Organisation) was first coined by the Indonesian military. In reality, Djopari says, the OPM is 'not a single organisation for the liberation of Irian Jaya, but an umbrella for a whole range of resistance organisations both in Irian Jaya and overseas'.
Some will question the methods of this study - it is functionalist and thus uses too much communications theory and not enough economics. But it contains much valuable data, and deserves to be more widely quoted in Indonesia today.
Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996
Locals get a nasty surprise when they see what modern mining does to their land. JEFF ATKINSON attended a conference about it.
In December last year, environmental activists from all over Indonesia gathered in Banjarmasin, South Kalimantan, to discuss how to combat the negative social and environmental impacts of mining.
Indonesia is one of the most mineral rich areas on the face of the planet, and mining companies from around the world are showing an increasing interest. But increased activity is also increasing problems for communities in mining areas. No more so than around the Freeport gold and copper mine in Irian Jaya, where the conflict has led to loss of life.
While Freeport represents an extreme case, conflict between mining companies and landowners is on the increase in all the mining areas of Indonesia, including Kalimantan.
The first
The Banjarmasin gathering was the first ever NGO advocacy and networking workshop on mining. Organised by the environmental umbrella group WALHI (Wahana Lingkungan Hidup Indonesia), it brought together more than 50 representatives from non-government organisations (NGOs) all over Indonesia. There were also several groups of affected landowners, including two people from Freeport.
The workshop heard a common story from the communities, of rivers polluted by mine wastes, run-off and chemicals, of fish, crabs and aquatic life dying, domestic animals and people becoming sick, land being taken for mining without proper compensation, and of traditional mining (panning) being made impossible by silt in the rivers and streams.
Australia
Three groups of landowners from different parts of Kalimantan gave presentations at the workshop. In every case the mining company causing the problems was Australian. One was PT Indo Muro Kencana, a gold mining company 90 percent owned by the Perth-based Aurora Gold Ltd. Another was PT Kelian Equitorial Mining, owned by CRA; and the third was PT Adaro of whom the majority partner and operator is the Brisbane based New Hope Ltd.
The largest coal mine in Indonesia, Kaltim Prima in East Kalimantan, and the second largest gold mine in the country, Kelian, are both operated by Australia's CRA. Recent amalgamation with RTZ, now a shareholder in the Freeport mine, gave CRA an interest in that mine as well.
Of the ten coal mines in Kalimantan, six are operated by Australian companies, including three by BHP. Australian companies are mining for gold in Kalimantan, Sulawesi, South Sumatra and Sumbawa, for diamonds in South Sulawesi and for tin on Banka Island. And they are exploring for new deposits all over the country.
Network
The Banjarmasin workshop resolved to establish an NGO Mining Advocacy Network in Indonesia. This will enable NGOs to assist affected landowners more effectively, and will work to minimise or prevent the negative impacts of mining operations.
While not part of the Indonesian network, environment and development organisations in other countries including Australia were seen to play an important supporting role. For Australian NGOs, one obvious function is to be a source of information about Australian companies operating in Indonesia. Several groups, including Community Aid Abroad, have already taken up this role.
Two clear issues emerged from the workshop. First, given that so many of the people affected by mining, particularly in Kalimantan and Irian Jaya, are minority indigenous communities with traditional land rights, there is a need to re-assert those rights and the traditional laws upon which they are based.
Second, participants expressed a need to re-assert the importance of the small scale mining many communities in mining areas traditionally engage in. This is a more equitable form of resource exploitation, in which benefits go directly to the local community rather than to a company or the government.
Awe inspiring
On the final day of the workshop, participants travelled by bus into the interior of Kalimantan to visit an Australian operated open-cut coal mine, at Paringin near Tanjung. The huge open-cut pit was an awe inspiring sight, as were the artificial hills created by the dumping of overburden and waste rock. Currently bare, these were to be eventually planted with commercial timber.
In the pit itself, giant mechanical shovels tore away at the coal and dumped huge loads onto the backs of trucks to be carted away to the coast and loaded onto ships bound for Japan and other parts of Asia.
Frightening
After touring the mine site and talking to the managers, the bus load of workshop participants headed back for Banjarmasin. One young man, a farmer from another part of Kalimantan where a company is looking for coal, was asked what he thought of the mine. 'Frightening', he replied. Neither he nor anyone else from his area had ever seen a coal mine before. Its size, and the extent of the damage caused were a frightening surprise to him.
The company exploring his area had told people they were simply going to 'take the coal out of the ground, and then give the land back'. For this they would be handsomely compensated. They had no idea their land was going to be dug up and altered forever like that.
During the visit, he had been busy photographing everything. Now he was going to bring some nasty revelations about open-cut mining to the people back home.
Jeff Atkinson is National Research Co-ordinator with Community Aid Abroad, based in Melbourne.
Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996
JULIA SURYAKUSUMA reflects on the passing of Mrs Suharto
The recent death of Mrs Tien Suharto (28 April) can be likened to the demise of the consort of a reigning monarch, bringing disruption and uncertainty. From clairvoyants to seasoned political analysts alike, many see this as the beginning of the end of the rule of Suharto - now in his sixth term - which has lasted for almost 30 years, the longest of any modern national leader. The sheer length of his rule has led people to refer to it as a 'dynasty'.
Rumours of Suharto's resignation - or downfall - have been circulating and speculated on for a long time. But now the prospect becomes more imminent. Personally, for Suharto, the death of Mrs Tien is like 'losing half his soul'. However, in terms of the power, legitimacy, cohesion, stability, balance and continuity of the President's rule and the New Order regime, the implications are even greater.
Royalty
Suharto derives his power and legitimacy from both 'people power' as well as royalty. He constantly prides himself on his lower class rural origins, as being an anak desa (village boy). To this day he regularly has televised audiences with village people. However, his marriage to R. A. Siti Hartinah, his 'closest companion and loyal helpmate', who stems from the Mangkunegaran court in Surakarta, Central Java, provides him with another kind of legitimacy and mystical power needed to consolidate his rule, which can only be derived from nobility.
In political matters, it was commonly understood that Mrs Tien was also Suharto's most loyal aide, as well as his closest and most influential advisor. Mrs Tien has been known to express preferences as well as dislikes toward certain cabinet ministers, often connected with their personal lives. Throughout Suharto's rule, in almost all of his public appearances, she was at his side. It is difficult to imagine him without her.
Family principle
Social cohesion in the New Order is attained using a mix of coercion and consensus, by military, political, economic, ideological and cultural means. One is through the much-touted 'family principle': the state as family, with Suharto as the head of the state-cum-family. In the New Order paternalism, Suharto is often referred to as bapak (father) Harto and his wife,ibu (mother) Tien.
If Suharto is the Sun, the source of all power, Tien was the Moon, who reflected that power, and who also provided balance and stability. In many instances, the family principle has been criticised as justifying the practice of nepotism and cliquism, giving special favours to their children, friends and relatives, who dominate the Indonesian business world with their conglomerates and monopolies.
Harmony and balance are mainstays of Javanese life. Mrs Tien also provided these in the New Order. She was known for her involvement - as founder, patron, or head - of many social organisations and charitable foundations. This served the purpose of giving a balance - albeit merely pseudo - to the heavily economistic development strategy of the New Order regime, as well as to the business activities of her children. True that Indonesian development has raised living standards, but it has also widened the gap between rich and poor.
Sexual politics
Ibu Tien also epitomises and personifies sexual politics in Indonesia. Her unquestioning loyalty and unstinting support of Suharto - as husband as well as head of state - and her desire to be part of him rather than being herself, serves as the ideal model of Indonesian womanhood. The resulting ideology - in academic circles known by the term 'State Ibuism' - is a mish- mash of Javanese aristocratic-feudalistic, Dutch petit-bourgeois, as well as military-hierarchical values.
State Ibuism is institutionalised in Dharma Wanita, the compulsory civil servants wives' association, which disseminates the ideology through the Family Welfare Movement, an integral part of the government apparatus at the village level. Apart from the inappropriateness of many aspects of Dharma Wanita ideology to most poor women's lives, it also serves the purpose of control.
This is the reality of bedroom politics in Indonesia, which pervades the entire bureaucratic structure. The performance of a wife in Dharma Wanita can heavily affect her husband's career. Thus on the one hand, a wife is secondary to her husband, yet on the other, has the power to control and influence his career in the bureaucracy.
Icon
The death of Mrs Tien Suharto means the disappearance of one of the icons of the New Order. An icon that was never given much consideration, yet it was much like a part of the landscape one takes so much for granted - noticed only when it is gone. There is a remarkable oversight by conventional political analysis - whether journalistic or academic - which tends to look mainly at the male actors in formal politics. In fact, the informal role of women, especially as wives - traditionally as well as in modern-day politics - is crucial.
Now, after his lifelong companion and advisor - wife for 49 years and First Lady for 28 years - has gone, is Suharto still in a position to run for another term? A trader in Jakarta remarked, 'losing the First Lady is like losing your mother, who holds the household together', while a bus driver made the observation, 'Pak Harto couldn't have led the country alone and kept the nation stable for such a long time'.
In the ensuing instability after Tien's death, the fear of instability alone is enough to cause state and society alike to act in unpredictably destructive ways.
Julia Suryakusuma is a free-lance columnist, and currently visiting research scholar at the Centre for South East Asian Studies at Kyoto University.
Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996
Philip J. Eldridge, Non-Government Organisations and Democratic Participation in Indonesia, Oxford University Press, 1995. xxii, 260pp, photos. RRP AU$54.95.
Reviewed by Ron Witton
When government is as authoritarian and all pervasive as in Indonesia, non-governmental organisations (NGOs) play an important role. They communicate to the government the views of ordinary people by mobilising them to act in their own interests. For anyone who has had contact with action for village development, human rights or the environment in Indonesia, the central role played by NGOs is clear. Less clear, however, has been the origins of many of these groups, how they interrelate, and the dimensions of conflict that periodically arise between them. Philip Eldridge has done a masterful job in providing this crucial information.
Networking
He outlines the origins and continuing concerns of central NGOs such as those in legal aid (e.g. YLBHI), the environment (e.g. WALHI), women (e.g. Yasanti), rural development (e.g. LPSM) and consumers (e.g. YLKI). In addition, he traces the rise of networking and coalition building (such as INGI) and examines the tensions within them.
Through selected case studies, such as that of the struggles over the Kedung Ombo dam, he shows how ordinary people work to counter the massive power of the Indonesian state, and the role played in this by NGOs. He also examines ideological conflicts between intellectuals such as George Aditjondro and Arief Budiman over whether NGO-Government co-operation represents a potential for democratisation of the state, or merely the co-option of people's organisations by that state.
Big NGOs
Of particular interest is his analysis of the strong pesantren (Islamic schools) movement, which addresses local development issues. A contradiction exists between the authoritarian structures of such institutions and the democratic, people-centred goals they pursue. Similarly, he examines the concerns of many within the NGO movement that the BINGOs ('Big NGOs') have managed to commandeer both the leadership of the movement within Indonesia as well as the channels of communication to, and funding from, international aid organisations.
His conclusions provide much food for thought. To what extent can NGOs grow and still remain close to their 'grassroots' partners? To what extent is the democratic struggle in the political arena central to the development process? To what extent does it represent a diversion of NGO energies and a subversion of their original aims? These questions are of continuing concern to Indonesians involved in NGOs.
Non-Indonesians are well advised to acquaint themselves with the dimensions of this debate before venturing into the field to make contact with this very active area of Indonesian social involvement. Reading this book would be a good start.
Dr Ron Witton lectures at the University of Western Sydney.
Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996
Asmara Nababan is the executive secretary of INFID in Jakarta. Since he is also a member of the National Human Rights Commission, we asked him to assess both. For Asmara, the link is human rights.
What is the role of INFID?
INFID is a forum for a wide range of NGOs in Indonesia, with a wide range of backgrounds, interests and functions, from all parts of Indonesia, from Aceh to Irian Jaya. It also groups NGOs with different religious backgrounds - some have Islamic, Catholic and Protestant backgrounds. It is a meeting place where NGOs can discuss the problems they face in Indonesia.
What have INFID and its predecessor INGI been able to achieve?
I don't have a simple answer to that. But at the very least it has been able to bring all NGOs onto one platform. In itself this is strategically important in Indonesia, where the differences between NGOs have been great, and where there has been little history of working together.
Arief Budiman spoke earlier in the conference about the need for NGOs to develop a common ideology. Do you agree?
I think by working together to face obstacles, by joining in the same process, we can come to a common understanding. In three fields- democratisation, equity, and sustainability - all the participants in INFID already have a common understanding. All the NGOs in INFID support these core positions.
How has the composition of INFID changed over the years?
In the early years, only the biggest NGOs participated, but recently many smaller and local NGOs have begun to participate directly. There are also regional networks of NGOs which participate, including networks from Aceh, Yogyakarta, and North Sumatra. Each of these represent between fifty and one hundred NGOs. So if we say that around forty NGOs participate in INFID, in fact that is an underestimate, there are far more than that. We have seen an expansion of the social base of this network.
How do you see the interaction been Australian and Indonesian NGOs?
Frankly speaking, most such cooperation is in the development field. This is not wrong of course, but we hope in the future that Australian NGOs will be more active in human rights, in advocacy and democratisation issues. This is because, quite apart from our criticisms and disappointment with the development process in Indonesia, people no longer die from hunger in Indonesia. It's not like Somalia or similar countries. The main problems we face now are not economic, but matters like basic human rights, the right to participate, the right of people to be recognised as human beings.
Why did INFID choose the land issue as the theme of this year's conference?
Land disputes are increasing from year to year. Especially in Java, economic growth has dramatically increased pressure on land. They need land for, you name it, roads, industrial plants and so on. And yet, the legal infrastructure is too weak to protect the people who are simply ousted from their land.
In the past, people used to just accept this. They used to have an attitude of 'well, what can we do?' But over the last five years, people no longer want to just accept it anymore. There is a new awareness among the people that they have the right to fight for their own rights, for their land.
You are a member of the National Human Rights Commission. People say it has more independence than was initially expected. How can the Commission influence the Indonesian government on human rights?
First of all, relations between the Commission and NGOs have improved greatly. In the Commission's first year, many of its members were cynical about NGOs. They had stereotyped perceptions of NGOs, similar to those of the government. They were reluctant to cooperate with NGOs. Over the last year, a new understanding has emerged in most members about the function of NGOs. Most recognise the need to cooperate with the NGO community.
Now on the role of the Commission regarding the government. From the start I did not expect too much from the government. Rather, I see the main role of the Commission right now is to promote understanding of human rights in the public. Our statements appear every day in the newspapers. They are bringing about a kind of legitimation of the issue of human rights.
Our work shows the public that human rights belong to us, that they are not an alien concept. Five years ago, if a group raised the human rights issue they were accused of spreading 'Western' ideas and subversion. Now it is legitimate to discuss human rights. This is a major step forward, a real change. Now you hardly even find any generals or ministers who will say that human rights are an alien or Western concept.
Of course, because of our limited mandate, we must cooperate with the government. We can't confront the government. The Commission is too weak, in terms of our legal basis, our capacity and so on. So we take a cooperative approach. But this does not mean that we don't criticise them.
Inside Indonesia 47: Jul-Sep 1996
Many foreigners have learned Indonesian on the green campus of Satya Wacana University in Salatiga, Central Java. Since 1993 it has been in the news for a different reason. BUDI KURNIAWAN reports that serious conflicts between the campus community and the university board have reduced the prestigious campus to a shadow of its former self.
Quite unknown to the tourists, Balinese youth are creating a dynamic musical identity that refuses to be colonised. EMMA BAULCH joins the death thrashers for an evening of metal.
Burgeoning industrial areas in Java have eaten up Indonesian self-sufficiency in rice production. To compensate, an area of peat swamp in Kalimantan a third the size of the Netherlands is being converted to rice land. IRIP NEWS SERVICE investigates.
Idyllic rural Java is rapidly becoming urban. As a result, peasants are now less in conflict with landlords than with the state. This radically changes the way we think about the best way to organise for change, according to JUNI THAMRIN andVEDI HADIZ.
In August 1975 a brief but bitter civil war in East Timor pitted Fretilin against the UDT. It was the prelude to Indonesian annexation. Since then, rivalry has hampered East Timorese cooperation, and been exploited by Indonesian government spokespersons. In this generous statement the UDT speaks openly about the past, and embraces Nobel Peace Prize winner Jose Ramos- Horta.
The Supreme Political council of the Timorese Democratic Union (UDT) welcomes the announcement by the Nobel Peace Committee that the 1966 winners of the Nobel Peace Prize are two East Timorese, Bishop Carlos Ximenes Belo and Mr Jose Ramos-Horta. We extend to our two compatriots our most heartfelt congratulations. Within minutes of the announcement of the award, UDT leaders and militants sent numerous messages to the two winners. Now, the UDT leadership wishes to issue a more detailed account of UDT views about the role of Mr Ramos-Horta in more than two decades of dedicated and tireless efforts towards our common cause.
The Indonesian government and media have engaged in a grotesque slander campaign against Mr Jose Ramos-Horta, as they did against Bishop Carlos Ximenes Belo in the fall of 1995, on the eve of the Nobel Peace Committee's announcement of the 1995 winners. Most international observers were predicting in 1995 that Bishop Belo was going to be the winner that year. There were even orchestrated street demonstrations in Indonesia and petitions denouncing Bishop Belo. Now it is Mr Ramos-Horta who is being denounced and called all sorts of names.
Adversary
Mr Ramos-Horta is a political adversary of the UDT, but in more than 21 years he always displayed flexibility, tolerance and readiness to cooperate with his adversaries. It was through Mr Ramos-Horta's tireless efforts that in January 1975 the UDT and Fretilin signed a coalition.
When violence erupted in East Timor in August 1975, Mr Ramos- Horta was out of the country. But he sent personal messages to the UDT leaders as he did to his Fretilin colleagues urging us to stop the fighting. Mr Ramos-Horta also offered to mediate between the two parties.
When he was able to return to East Timor in mid-September 1975, when the conflict ended with Fretilin gaining military supremacy over the UDT, he visited all prisoners, cooperated with the International Red Cross, and raised his voice when prisoners were mistreated by their captors. He secured the release of many UDT prisoners and managed to organise the evacuation of some stranded children to Australia to reunite with their families.
Within hours of his arrival in Dili, he secured the release of Portuguese army soldiers who had been detained by Fretilin. They were handed over to the ICRC who repatriated them to Portugal in September 1975.
Tolerance
There is not one single East Timorese who can claim that Mr Ramos-Horta was engaged in violence, directly or indirectly. Quite the contrary, he was among the very vocal few who tried to control the excesses and always displayed enormous tolerance and humanity. He visited the prisoners and had tears in his eyes when he heard of their mistreatment, and did not hesitate to express his revulsion at meetings of the Fretilin Central Committee. This caused him numerous serious problems with the extremists, and more than once he was threatened with arrest and expulsion from Fretilin.
When Fretilin gained the upper hand in September-November 1975 he visited UDT imprisoned leaders and discussed with them ideas about how they could reorganise themselves. Some UDT leaders who crossed over to West Timor at the end of August 1975 were immediately held hostage in Indonesia and were coerced to support Jakarta policies.
Social democrat
In an extraordinary display of political wisdom, Mr Ramos-Horta met with those UDT leaders who stayed behind in East Timor and were detained by Fretilin, and proposed that they reorganise the party in East Timor. Our colleagues agreed with his wise proposal but the Fretilin hardliners blocked it.
Mr Ramos-Horta was a social democrat from the very beginning and never changed his stand ever since. He was never part of the Marxist faction of Fretilin and was always viewed with suspicion by the extremists.
In 1978 he argued for reconciliation between UDT and Fretilin. He was attacked by the then Fretilin leader abroad, Mr Abilio Araujo, a Marxist-Leninist ideologue, and was labelled a 'traitor'. Mr Abilio Araujo is now a wealthy businessman in Lisbon, but only a few years ago he was a dogmatic communist who branded any one like Ramos-Horta a 'traitor' and a 'capitalist roader'. Mr Ramos-Horta was even physically threatened with death by the extremists.Alliance
When he visited Australia in June-July 1984, he discussed with us again the idea of an alliance between Fretilin and UDT, and in 1986 the two parties signed the Nationalist Convergence.
For more than 21 years he has argued for dialogue with Indonesia. For this he was also accused as a sell-out by the same extremists who are today in Jakarta's payroll.
Even though we in UDT at times had our differences with him, he never hesitated to help us. On several occasions, he helped UDT or individual members of UDT out of his own pocket. In critical periods of our struggle requiring immediate diplomatic activities, he supported some of the travels, accommodation and in many occasions organised for us to stay with his friends. His sense of humour always helped us in our hours of despair. His determination and passion, professionalism in carrying out his duties, but also his love for life, has always inspired us. We often joke that he is a non-card carrying UDT member rather than a leader of Fretilin.
In the face of the slanderous attacks on Mr Ramos-Horta, the UDT feels it is its obligation to put the record straight, because not doing so would be morally unfair. The UDT is proud that two East Timorese won the 1996 Nobel Peace Prize Award, and look forward to continue a 21 year old association with our political adversary Mr Ramos-Horta in our common goal of pursuing freedom for our country, through a just and peaceful solution.
Signed: Joao Carrascalao, President of UDT; Domingos de Oliveira, General Secretary; Sydney, 24 October 1996. The Timorese Democratic Union (UDT) Supreme Political Council can be contacted at PO Box 3233, Liverpool NSW 2170, Australia.
Inside Indonesia 49: Jan-Mar 1997
As chairperson of the independent labour union SBSI, MUCHTAR PAKPAHAN was held responsible for the large labour demonstrations in Medan in April 1994. He was sentenced to four years jail. The following extracts from his diary were written at that time. In September 1995 the Supreme Court upheld his appeal and he was released. But in October 1996 Supreme Court Chief Judge Soerjono stunned legal opinion by cancelling the release order. Pakpahan now has to serve the full sentence. Worse, he faces subversion charges in relation to the 27 July 1996 Jakarta events.
Indonesians in search of justice can go no higher than the Supreme Court. But whistle blowers have exposed deep-seated corruption within. Worse, the main whistle blower is now threatened with the sack.
Audrey R. & George McT. Kahin, Subversion as foreign policy: The secret Eisenhower and Dulles debacle in Indonesia, New York: The New Press/ Petaling Jaya: Forum, 1995.
PETER CAREY finds many parallels between the conduct of the present-day Indonesian regime in East Timor and that of the Netherlands' colonial administration in the Indies before World War II. Not least, both governments took for granted their right to rule.
As riots erupt across the country, Suharto is forcing rich companies to contribute to a private anti-poverty foundation. But, for DAVID BOURCHIER and IAN CHALMERS, the move smacks of personal greed.
Page 40 of 68
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