April-June 2003
Islam and the bomb
In the wake of the bombingPeacebuilding in the wake of terror - Emma Baulch
My pesantren, Darur Ridwan Life in an East Javanese Islamic boarding school - Mayra Walsh
Tall tales Conspiracy theories in post-bomb Indonesia - Greg Fealy
Preaching fundamentalism The public teachings of Abu Bakar Ba'asyir - Tim Behrend
Post-bomb politics
A hybrid order No joy for extremists in post-bomb Indonesia - Ed Aspinall
Taken by surprise The Bali bombings reveal the failings of Australian-Indonesian intelligence co-operations - David Wright Neville
Balinese recoveries
Sustainable recovery Balinese people favour green initiatives in recovery effort - Christine Foster
Renegotiate the debt! Civil society intervenes in multilateral aid meeting - Ngurah Karyadi
Back to the roots After the bomb, community tourism needs a boost - Sherry Kasman Entus
Ritual, politics and tourism Ritual purification ceremonies have dominated Balinese recovery efforts - Graeme MacRae
Puppeteers on wheels An innovative shadow puppet show combats post-traumatic stress disorder in Bali - Rucina Ballinger
Opinion
A moderate majority A deep local tradition of tolerance defends against militancy - The Hon. Justice Marcus Einfeld
Politics and Human Rights
Notes from a 'five star' prison cell Life in an Acehnese jail - Lesley McCulloch
How to make peace Civilians demand a part in Aceh's peace process - Kautsar
Making peace newsworthy Indonesian journalists attend a peace journalism training workshop in Manado - Jake Lynch
Stand your ground A radio series gives voice to East Timorese stories of resistance to Indonesian occupation - Matt Abud
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Inside Indonesia 74: Apr-Jun 2003
Jan-Mar 2003
Terrorism
A Militarised SocietyIndonesia today is a dangerous place primarily for Indonesians, not foreigners
The Bali Bombing Understanding the tragedy beyond al-Qaeda and Bush's 'war on terror' - Thomas Reuter
The insecurity forces
Security Disorders Sending Troops is not Going to Solve Regional Conflicts - Douglas Kammen
What's Wrong With Freeport's Security Policy? A report by a human rights organisation in West Papua - Institute for Human Rights Study and Advocacy (Elsham)
Brawling, Bombing, and 'Backing' The Security Forces as a Source of Insecurity - John Roosa
Doing Daily Battle Street children face police and security guards - Rikah and Dede
Civilian Militias
The Model Militia A new security force in Bali is cloaked in tradition - Degung Santikarma
Self-reliant militias Homegrown security forces wield great power in Lombok - John M. MacDougall
Putting the (Para)Military Back Into Politics The 'taskforces' of the political parties - Phil King
Military business
Plundering the Sea Regulating trawling companies is difficult when the navy is in business with them - Brian Fegan
On the Waterfront The Military Fleeces and Polices Port Workers - Razif
The militarys legacy
Evading the Truth Will a Truth and Reconciliation Commission ever be formed? - Agung Putri
Not Fade Away A General of the Sukarno years criticises today's military - Muhammad Fauzi
The Endless Wait Families of the Disappeared are Still Searching for Answers - R. Waluya Jati
Review
James Bond Jakarta Style
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Inside Indonesia 73: Jan-Mar 2003
Oct-Dec 2002
Media
Give freedom of the press a chance Indonesia's free press needs time to mature - Lukas Luwarso
'You wan see jiggy-jig?' Getting hot under the collar over Indonesian pornography - Justine Fitzgerald
Consuming passions Millions of Indonesians must watch soap operas - Amrih Widodo
Radioactive Radio has undergone a revolution since Suharto resigned - Edwin Jurriens
Exchanging news, bridging isolation The 68H network brings people closer together - Santoso
Getting connected The struggle to get Indonesia online - Onno Purbo
Eliana Eliana: independent cinema? A new wave of Indonesian films - Joanne Sharpe
A town like Malang A new local press must struggle to survive when the novelty of autonomy wanes - Kirrilee Hughes
Power to the people Indonesians are seeking a public voice through radio - Rebecca Henschke
Politics and human rights
Law, globalisation and military terror Civil cases are combating corporate impunity - Richard Tanter
Who is calling for Islamic Law? The struggle to implement Islamic Law in South Sulawesi - Dias Pradadimara and Burhaman Junedding
Peace for Poso Highlighting the state's role may help stop the Poso conflict - Syamsul Alam Agus
Culture
A love of language Unable to pay for formal lessons, many poor Indonesians have mastered English through radio, TV and film. Like Rizza of Surabaya. - Duncan Graham
Reformasi killed the poetry superstars Two poets tour Australia - Marshall Clark and Giora Eliraz
Two visionaries of Indonesian theatre Two directors resided in an intercultural realm - Ian Brown
Regulars
Behind the Postcolonial: Architecture, Urban Space, and Political Cultures in IndonesiaReview: Abidin Kusno examines trends in architectural design and urban planning in Jakarta - Julie Shackford-Bradley
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Inside Indonesia 72: Oct-Dec 2002
July-Sept 2002
East Timor
Outside Indonesia - East TimorThis edition goes out with our best wishes to the East Timorese people - Gerry van Klinken
Born in the wrong era Amidst globalisation, can East Timor still be a people's alternative? - Mansour Fakih
Timor's women After the brutal occupation, gender violence remains a reality - Dawn Delaney
A sustainable future How will East Timor manage its economy? - Helder da Costa
What about the workers? Now is the time to create a fairer system - Selma Hayati
Australian treachery, again This time it's over oil and gas royalti - Rob Wesley Smith
Meet Titi Irawati An Indonesian human rights worker in East Timor - Kerry Brogan
The Indonesian who joined Falintil Why did Nasir join the guerrillas? - M Nasir, interviewed by Nug Katjasungkana
One less place to hide US courts bring down judgments against two Indonesian generals - John M Miller
Claiming justice amid the ruins A remarkable grass-roots reconciliation meeting in Ainaro - Hilmar Farid
The Oecussi-Ambeno enclave What does the future hold for this neglected territory? - Arsenio Bano and Edward Rees
The forgotten of West Timor Poverty, refugees, militias, and too many soldiers - Elcid Li
By the book, please East Timorese students in Yogyakarta suffer intimidation - Faustino Gomes,/p>
Politics and human rights
Is Indonesia a terrorist base? The gulf between rhetoric and evidence is wide - Greg Fealy
Combat zone Aceh is the military?s stepping stone back to power - David Bourchier
Witness denied Australian media responses to the Indonesian killings of 1965-66 - Richard Tanter
Culture
Theatre blossoms A sampling of performances in Java - Julie Janson
Resources
East Timor on the Net The latest on this new nation at your fingertips - John M Miller
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Inside Indonesia 71: July - Sept 2002
April-June 2002
Politics and Human Rights
The legacy of Herb Feith The theme of this edition is 'peace and international collaboration', the two leading ideas of Herb's later years - Gerry van Klinken
Indonesia - US military ties September 11th and after - Kurt Biddle
The life and death of Theys Eluay The murdered Papuan leader was an ambiguous figure - At Ipenburg
BP and the Tangguh test A multi-billion dollar gas project in a remote Papuan bay needs scrutiny - Down to Earth
Culture
Revolution of hope Independent films are young, free and radical - Katinka van Heeren
Do-it-yourself freedomHow to escape the mainstream, big money, newspaper thought police - Alexandra Crosby
Peace and cooperation
Celebrate for peace Reclaiming public ritual can help resolve conflict - Taufik Rahzen
We are all one How custom overcame religious rivalry in Southeast Maluku - P M Laksono
Between war and peace An insider speaks about peace negotiations on Aceh - Otto Syamsuddin Ishak
Aceh negotiation ups and downs
Waiting for peace in Poso Why has this Muslim-Christian conflict continued for three years? - Lorraine V Aragon
Is reconciliation sleeping with the devil? The dilemmas of negotiating an end to conflict - Vanessa Johanson
Australians volunteer The history of Australian Volunteers International begins in Indonesia - Peter Britton
Antidote to parochialism - Herb Feith
The first volunteer Herb Feith, who began it all 50 years ago, inspires a new volunteer - Rachael Diprose
Herb Feith
Bush, Osama and the planet - Bill Liddle and Herb Feith
Ideas man Herb Feith's search for better mental road maps to a complex Indonesia - Jamie Mackie
A syncretistic Jew Learning from Indonesian religious experience - Herb Feith
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Peace on the net
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Inside Indonesia 70: Apr-Jun 2002
Jan-Mar 2002
The Poor
The poor firstWe dedicate this edition to the poor, and to those enquiring minds who want to learn about them - Gerry van Klinken
Dirty debtRich countries share responsibility for Indonesia's impossible debt burden - Ann Pettifor
Crisis and poverty Four years later, how has the economic crisis affected the poor? - Anne Booth
The story of Mimin Surviving thirty years in Central Jakarta - Lea Jellinek and Ed Kiefer
Jakarta's poorest Lea Jellinek
Whose city? The street traders who feed and transport Jakarta are also its most unwelcome citizens - Vanessa Johanson
Whatever it takes Workers, often women, take risks to earn an honest living - Michele Ford
Singapore girl? Indonesian maids in Singapore want to be heard - Noorashikin Abdul Rahman
Land for the people Farmers in East Java are still working land they took three years ago - Sukardi
The Twin Towers Effect The democracy movement must now challenge international capital - Revrisond Baswir
Take the money or die A flood of 'democratisation' dollars has corrupted the NGO movement - Anu Lounela
Culture
Penis enhancements Popular with sailors and miners, but not necessarily with their women - Terence H Hull
Scunge City. And yet.... What the guide books don't tell you about Surabaya - Duncan Graham
Politics and Human Rights
Osama bin Cool What do Indonesian students think about Osama bin Laden? - Katie Brayne
The aftermath of civil war Fighting has stopped in North Maluku, but mistrust lingers - Christopher R Duncan
With Aceh's guerrillas A rare visit with the Free Aceh Movement shows them confident and well organised - Damien Kingsbury
One world still After the tragedy of 11 September, the world needs dialogue - Ulil Abshar-Abdalla
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Inside Indonesia 69: Jan-Mar 2002
Oct-Dec 2001
Politics and Human Rights
Ethnic fascism in Borneo Old elites in Central Kalimantan discover new and dangerous strategies - Gerry van Klinken
Laskar Jihad A spiritual home for the lost, this militant sect is used by dangerous elites for their own ends - IRIP News Service
Mother of the nation For now, reformasi is dead. But Mega didn't kill it - Edward Aspinall
Radical or reformist? How Islamic will the new movements make Indonesia? - Bernhard Platzdasch
The return of 'Shock therapy' Overseas friends stand by persecuted Acehnese human rights workers - Signe Poulsen
Rewriting history
Whitlam knew Indonesian military intelligence kept Australia fully informed (and complicit) in its 1975 East Timor invasion plans - Paul Monk
Out of the black hole After the New Order, the lid on Indonesia's past is beginning to lift - Hilmar Farid
The first Asian boat people Strange things began to happen when Indonesian refugees came to Australia during World War II - Jan Lingard
Romo Mangun Tribute to a multi-talented, national figure - Catherine Mills
For kicks The history of football is a history of Indonesia itself - Freek Colombijn
A soldier's historian New Order generals needed new history books. Nugroho Notosusanto was their man. - Kate McGregor
The Suharto Museum What gifts did Aussie prime ministers bestow on President Suharto? - Pam Allen
Merdeka! Indonesian poems selected by Harry Aveling
Rebel rises from the dead Sulawesians believe that Qahhar, their rebel hero, has risen again - Andi Faisal Bakti
Untold stories On the other side of 1965 lay a vibrant Indonesia worth remembering - Ann Laura Stoler
Regulars
Water, land, and SuhartoReview: Both books illustrate how the Suharto family exploited Indonesia - Ron Witton
Historical Atlas of IndonesiaReview: Robert Cribb's Historical Atlas is breathtaking in its scope and presentation - Ron Witton
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Inside Indonesia 68: Oct-Dec 2001
Review: Both books illustrate the way the Suharto family exploited Indonesia
Ron Witton
In 1625 Sultan Agung of the East Javanese kingdom of Mataram conquered Surabaya by besieging the city and poisoning its water supply by throwing rotting animal carcasses in the Brantas River that flows into the city. The first book under review is a tale of what happened 350 years later, when the people of Surabaya again faced a poisoned water supply. This time, it was caused by New Order 'development' industries on the river banks, dumping their toxic effluent into the Brantas. The way the book describes local authorities and NGOs fighting valiantly throughout the New Order period to oppose the rich and powerfully connected is quite gripping.
After the Suharto era, environmental politics flourished as they never could before. The title refers to a traditional community attitude that always saw the river as an easy way of getting rid of rubbish. Disaster results when chemical firms and other highly polluting industries adopt the same attitude. A wonderful collection of cartoons from Surabaya's surprisingly outspoken newspapers illustrates the struggle over the city's water supply.
The second book documents two case studies where the land of ordinary people was alienated by the New Order's elite. In one, it became golf links for the rich. In the other, a cattle ranch for Suharto. The story highlights the bravery of those ordinary people who dared to speak out. Doomed to failure under the New Order, they can now at last hope for justice. This book, perhaps, marks the beginning of that process.
Both books illustrate the way the Suharto family exploited Indonesia. In one, we read of Suharto's ranch. In the other, Tommy Suharto's water pipeline company defaulted its contractual obligations with impunity, and thus managed to extract vast sums of money from the Surabaya provincial government.
Anton Lucas with Arief Djati, The dog is dead, so throw it in the river: Environmental politics and water pollution in Indonesia, Clayton: Monash Asia Institute, 2000, 152pp, ISBN 0732611814.
Dianto Bachriadi and Anton Lucas, Merampas tanah rakyat: Kasus Tapos dan Cimacan [Plundering the people's land: The Tapos and Cimacan cases], Jakarta: Gramedia, 2001, 360pp, ISBN 9799023440.
Dr Ron Witton (rwitton@uow.edu.au) has taught social science in Australia, Indonesia, Fiji and Malaysia.
Inside Indonesia 68: Oct - Dec 2001
July - Sept 2001
Politics and Human Rights
West Papua: towards a new PapuaThis edition wants to be a forum for ideas on Papuan independence - Gerry van Klinken
From the ashes of empire Papua needs a clear political vision and be ready for the long haul - John Rumbiak
Where nationalisms collide History is central to the politics of West Papua - Richard Chauvel
Towards a New Papua When they hear the sacred texts of the church, Papuans see a better future - Benny Giay
Self-determination or territorial integrity? There is growing international concern over West Papua - Nic Maclellan
The backlash Jakarta's secret strategy to deal with Papuan nationalism - Richard Chauvel
Freeport's troubled future Without Suharto, who will protect Freeport from itself? - Denise Leith
Action in Europe What are Europeans doing about Papua? - Siegfried Zöllner and Feije Duim
Bravo the cat Life among Papuan and Timorese political prisoners in Jakarta - Jacob Rumbiak, with Louise Byrne
Box - Mama Yosefa wins a GoldmanA Papuan activist wins a prestigious prize for her work on the environment - Agung Rulianto
Papua - The Indonesian debate What does the public in Jakarta think? - Peter King
Box - Special Autonomy Main points of the 76-clause draft special autonomy law for Papua
To end impunity How Indonesia responds to human rights abuse in Papua is the measure of reform elsewhere - Lucia Withers
The bronze Asmat warrior Contemporary art in Papua is about new and contested identities - Robyn Roper
Remembering Sam Kapissa He was a wood carver, musician, and mover and shaker for the arts on Biak - Danilyn Rutherford
Inside the Special Autonomy Bill Chronology of a remarkable process - Agus Sumule
But is it democratic? Indonesian democrats have mixed feelings about Papua's independence drive - Stanley
Mama Papua Beatrix Koibur explains why Christianity is important to Papuan women - Annie Feith
The ethnic factor Christianity, curly hair, and human dignity - Nico Schulte Nordholt
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Inside Indonesia 67: Jul-Sep 2001
April-June 2001
Politics and Human Rights
The politics of gender This edition highlights Indonesia's women and men - and its gays, lesbians, bissu and other genders - Gerry van Klinken
The new conservatives Golkar and PDIP parliamentarians join forces to pull down Gus Dur - Gerry van Klinken
Box - The new conservatives Gus Dur's troubles - timeline
Groundhog Day Defence planners wake up and find Asia is (still) a threat - Simon Philpott
Peace journalism in Poso When reporting ethnic conflict, journalists can make a difference - Jake Lynch and Annabel McGoldrick
Aceh will not lie down A new generation of victims speaks out. Will Indonesia now negotiate? - Lesley McCulloch
Don't let them drown Australia must be a good global citizen towards refugees who transit Indonesia - Anita Roberts
Culture
Wisanggeni, Ned Kelly, and Tommy A new novel explores the ambiguous role of the outlaw in today's Indonesia - Marshall Clark
Women and Men
Out in front This energetic cabinet minister wants more power for women, fast - Vanessa Johanson talks with Khofifah Indar Parawansa
Women and the nation Throughout its history, outsiders wanted the women's movement to be nationalist first of all. Now women are finding their own voice - Susan Blackburn
Box - Women and the nationRifka Annisa - Wineng Endah
Jakarta women's barefoot bank Poor kampung women double their income through their own micro-credit scheme - Lea Jellinek
Gay men in the reformasi era Homophobic violence could be a by-product of the new openness - Dédé Oetomo
Quo vadis, lesbians? Lesbians want to be themselves - Bunga Jeumpa and Ulil
Sex in the city Between girl power and the mother image, young urban women struggle for identity - Yatun Sastramidjaja
Sulawesi's fifth gender What if there were not just two genders, but five? In Indonesia, there are - Sharyn Graham
Left-over from death Timorese women raped by Indonesian militias need justice. So do all the other women who survived New Order abuse - Galuh Wandita
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Marrying up in Bali Review: Tarian bumi is the story of four generations of Balinese women - Pamela Allen
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Inside Indonesia 66: April-June 2001
Gus Dur's troubles
10-13 November, 1998 - The first superparliament (MPR) session after Suharto resigns fails to address fundamental reform issues.
20 October, 1999 - Abdurrahman Wahid, backed by only a small party of his own, is appointed the compromise president by an unstable coalition of mostly New Order parties.
30 January, 2000 - Gus Dur visits Geneva and paves the way for an internationally mediated 'humanitarian pause' in Aceh, signed 12 May.
13 February, 2000 - Gus Dur sacks Gen Wiranto, his coordinating minister for politics and security and responsible for the East Timor mayhem. This removes the army from top government.
28 February, 2000 - At Gus Dur's insistence, Lt-Gen Agus Wirahadikusumah is appointed Kostrad elite force commander. Agus was seen as a liberal - too liberal for his military superiors, who managed to have him removed again on 31 July.
21 March, 2000 - Gus Dur hits headlines till the end of April with his proposal to allow communist ideas again, banned since 1966. No parliamentarian agrees with him.
24 April, 2000 - Gus Dur sacks Laksamana Sukardi, a competent minister, from an economic portfolio, apparently because of pressure from 'black conglomerate' Texmaco that Laksamana was pursuing.
29 May-4 June, 2000 - Papuan Congress, partly paid for by Gus Dur's government.
7 August, 2000 - Gus Dur's accountability speech to super-parliament (MPR) is severely criticised by all party fractions but one.
28 August, 2000 - The main defendant in the US$57 million Bank Bali corruption scandal (allegedly involving a 1999 Golkar election slush fund) is acquitted, leading to cries of continued judicial corruption. All other defendants are acquitted later.
14 September, 2000 - A military-style car bomb explodes at the Jakarta Stock Exchange, killing 15, the day before Suharto's trial resumes. More bombs explode at other times, including dozens all over Indonesia on Christmas Eve.
26 September, 2000 - Tommy Suharto is sentenced to 18 months jail for corruption, but he goes into hiding before police eyes.
28 September, 2000 - A court declares Suharto medically unfit to stand trial for corruption. No other Suharto family members face charges.
Early October, 2000 - State Audit Agency (BPK) says 96% of Rp 144.5 trillion (US$14 billion) of public recapitalisation funds to 42 sick post-crisis banks was improperly used.
1 February, 2001 - Parliament (DPR) passes a censure motion against Gus Dur over two alleged cases of corruption ('Buloggate' and 'Bruneigate') totalling US$6 million.
Inside Indonesia 66: April-June 2001
Jan - Mar 2001
Environment
The environment Now that the New Order is gone, how is the environment faring?- Gerry van Klinken
Mine thy neighbour The Australian government needs to control Australian miners - Jeff Atkinson
Suharto's fires Suharto cronies control an ASEAN-wide oil palm industry - George J Aditjondro
Saving Bunaken Locals are saving one of the world's most beautiful marine parks - Mark V Erdmann
Indorayon's last gasp? Popular protest closes a huge paper and pulp mill in Sumatra - Frances Carr
Get your act together, Aussie! Without Suharto, an Australian gold mining company is having trouble - Jeff Atkinson
Kalimantan's peatland disaster Greed and stupidity destroy the last peatland wilderness - Jack Rieley
Reformasi and Riau's forests Government struggles with 'people power', poverty and pulp - Lesley Potter and Simon Badcock
In the forests of the night Living with tigers in South Aceh - John McCarthy
Politics and Human Rights
Looking back to move forward A Truth Commission could bring healing for a tragic past - Mary S Zurbuchen
Inside the Laskar Jihad An interview with the leader of a new, radical and militant sect - Greg Fealy
Tribute to a proud Acehnese Jafar Siddiq Hamzah died defending dialogue and human rights - Sidney Jones
Constitutional Tinkering The search for consensus is taking time - Blair A King
Society and Economy
Future Indonesia 2010 What will Indonesia look like in 2010? - Dedy A Prasetyo
Travel
Pak Rabun and the wilderness Across Kalimantan by boat and on foot - Ciaran Harman
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Nathaniel's NutmegReview: How one man's courage changed the course of history - Ron Witton
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Inside Indonesia 65: Jan-Mar 2001
Oct - Dec 2000
Culture
Artists and activistsThe late novelist YB Mangunwijaya coined the phrase 'post-Indonesian generation'. - Gerry van Klinken
Naked truth Young artists rebel against the political crisis - M Dwi Marianto
Letter from Makassar Artists rebuild community identity - Halim HD
Confused? Directions in post-New Order theatre - Lauren Bain
Punks for peace Underground music - the voice of young people - Jo Pickles
Of pigs, puppets and protest Radical Yogyakarta artists get among the people - Heidi Arbuckle
Skin signatures Tattoos are the fad of today's teenagers - Megan Baker
Meet Semsar An interview with an artist and activist - Yvonne Owens with Semsar Siahaan
The Theft of Sita A joint Australian-Indonesian performance bursts boundaries - Robin Laurie
Politics and Human Rights
View from the top Exclusive interview with the president - Greg Barton with Abdurrahman Wahid
Making Indonesia work for the people Chusnul Mar'iyah thrives on controversy - Peter King
Busy girl Chusnul Mar'iyah and the NGO scene - Peter King
Women and the war in Aceh Women want to silence all the guns - Suraiya Kamaruzzaman
A different freedom Islamic rebellion in Aceh and Mindanao is not so irrational - Jacqueline Aquino Siapno
Blood on the map A conference on recent violence in Indonesia - Jemma Purdey
Society and Economy
Land for the landless Why 'democrats' in Jakarta aren't interested in land reform - Dianto Bachriadi
'Run my child' Mukti-Mukti sings protest songs about land - Anton Lucas
Travel
One Crater Sulphur miners risk their lives on an active volcano - Ciaran Harman
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Inside Indonesia 64: Oct-Dec 2000
Sulphur miners risk their lives on an active volcano. How do they do it?
Ciaran Harman
Agus Alam turned from watching me struggle up towards him, and looked down the mountainside beside the steep path to the squares of rice fields far below. Beyond him, the stubby grey-treed slope, folding and unfolding like a fan, was cut with a path like a fault-line. The first miners were beginning the first descent of the day down it from the smoky crater high above. Slung across their backs were woven baskets filled to the brim with brilliant yellow ore. Sulphur.
In Kawah Ijen (One Crater), far eastern East Java, sulphur ore is mined by hand from an active volcanic crater. On a break from my studies in Yogyakarta in April, I took the night bus heading out that way with vague intentions of photojournalism and trying to understand what a life of hard physical labour would be like. I came back knowing only that I would probably never be able to understand the lives the people I saw, and that to write about them here as though I did would be a flat-out lie.
Java's buckled spine of volcanoes, from Krakatau off the west coast to Gunung Merapi and Kawah Ijen in the far east, form part of the 'ring of fire' that surrounds the Pacific Ocean. Earlier, as my motorcycle taxi buzzed towards the volcano and up its slopes, I had seen the nearby peaks by the vast triangles of stars they blotted out in the pre-dawn sky. Now the sun was feeling its way across the slopes, slowly unfolding them to me, yet leaving so much hidden.
I had caught up with Agus as I began up the path that led from the end of the road and the weigh station where the transport truck was parked. It was 3km up to the crater rim. Short and simple hair, a dirty tee shirt, shorts and thongs; he was in his twenties, about my age or younger, and walked slowly, unwillingly. It was his first day as a sulphur miner.
Agus Alam quietly answered my questions as we ascended. He said he had come to work as a miner for the same reasons his father had many years before. They were poor and owned no land. Agus told me how every day his father left their home well before dawn to walk almost 20km from their village to the crater. Sometimes he stayed away for a couple of weeks and lived on the mountain in a shack shared with other miners. Agus would only ever see his father in daylight on the days he was too sick or tired to work.
Ailments
His father, I imagined, suffered from many of the ailments I was told are common to those who work in the sulphur clouds. Bad eyes, sore lungs, teeth corroded from the acid fumes. Agus must have known that he too would develop the calluses on his shoulders where up to 100kg of sulphur was balanced for three descents from the crater every day. He said he hoped not to work there long. You could earn a fair bit of money, especially if you were strong. The miners were paid for the weight they carried: about Rp200 (less than 5 cents) a kilo. He would save enough, perhaps, to buy a motorbike and cart around the throngs of tourists that come to see the crater and snap pictures of themselves and a miner in the dry season. But Agus carried his fear as a burden up the mountain, just as later he would carry those yellow rocks down, the load measured with every step.
We came to a station on the path where the sulphur is weighed and the miners' shacks stand that Agus had told me about. In one shack, before my eyes became used to the gloom, it seemed as though stars surrounded me. I remembered for a moment the stars that had been blotted out from the night sky by the mountains. These pinpoints of light, however, turned out to be a thousand holes in the walls and roof. I wondered what the miners did when it rained. They would never be able to avoid a drip from the ceiling or a draught from the walls. The black soot coating everything and the pile of wood in the corner bore testament to the way they staved off the cold and clogged their lungs with smoke at the same time.
Up the path the vegetation began to thin out. There was less lush green. The trees were getting greyer and the undergrowth withered to a scrubby, stunted tangle. And then, as I turned a corner in the path, just by where an old miner had stopped to adjust his load of brilliant yellow rocks, I was there. It was as though the peak of the mountain had been struck and shattered. The grey, gaping wound was filled with a grey, steaming lake. The crater rim, jagged like torn paper, encircled it. I could smell the sulphur; I could see it too. Yellow steam roared out of vents in the rock below me. It twisted upward and was carried east by the morning breeze. To the west, up an invisible path through the exploded landscape, the miners ascended, visible only by the way their burdens flared against the dead landscape. It was like Jacob's Ladder in reverse. But these were men, not angels or devils.
Gas would drift over me and I would be reduced to a hacking, coughing mess between the grey rocks.
My descent into this pit was graceless. The miners, balancing the baskets of ore on their shoulders, knew where to place their sandaled feet. They heaved their way up the occasionally vertical route to the rim. I clambered over boulders and slid across sections of gravelly stones, thankful I had my steel-capped work-boots on. The path seemed to go on forever. The rim thrust up above me like a wall. I crossed a stream of hot water where a miner washed the yellow from his hands and then I was at the mine face.
The sulphur vents were far above me. Spilling down from them was a wall of congealed sulphur ore, that brilliant, noxious yellow. Pipes had been built to capture some of the gas and carry it down the slope and let it sweep back up, aiding the process of congealment. The miners would climb up by the pipes and break off the ore, their eyes and lungs stinging from the fumes. By the time I got there though, most of the miners had gone. Just a few old men were left, making artificial sulphur stalactites for tourists by getting the sulphur to congeal on twigs and leaves. I would have to go soon, they said. The wind was about to change and blow the gas westward, over the path to the rim. I watched the rushing steam and the dead lake for a while and then climbed back up the crater wall. Occasionally the gas would drift over me and I would be reduced to a hacking, coughing mess between the grey rocks.
I can never place my feet in their sandals and walk that ruptured path to the rim. I can't tell you what it is like to wonder if one more rock will feed your family or break your back. All I can do is tell you of the shadows of desperate men I saw up there. Some old, trapped in a job that will destroy their health and perhaps ultimately kill them, but that provides for their families, as long as they keep carrying ore. Some young, with their eyes constantly turned down the slopes, working at the mine only so that, one day, they will not have to any more.
Ciaran Harman (ciaran69@hotmail.com) is a student at the University of Western Australia in Perth. He was participating in the Acicis Study Indonesia Program in Yogyakarta.
Inside Indonesia 64: Oct - Dec 2000
Reformasi has not made life much easier for trade unionists
Terry Symonds
A strong labour movement is a powerful force for change. Suharto knew this better than most, having come to power on the slaughter of thousands of union activists and communists. Today, under a new and more liberal government, imprisoned labour activists are mostly free and independent unions are on the rise. But they continue to face repression at the factory level and their battle for union rights is by no means won.
The economic and political crisis of the last two years has had a dramatic and contradictory effect upon workers' organisations in Indonesia. Students led the 1998 wave of protest, but it quickly extended to the urban poor. Workers felt encouraged to join the democracy protests and raised demands of their own. Sensing the potential strength of a worker-based opposition, the dying Suharto regime cracked down hard in response.
Immediately before Suharto's re-election in March 1998, some 30 police officers visited the office of the Indonesian Prosperity Trade Union (SBSI) and forced its closure until after the election. In the week before the election, several lower SBSI officials were arrested for crimes ranging from distributing leaflets to organising plant level unions. Its leader Muchtar Pakpahan was already in jail.
Only two months later Suharto resigned, and Muchtar Pakpahan was released. But other labour leaders remained in prison, including Dita Sari, who was not released until July 1999.
During the turmoil of the Habibie administration, labour organisations continued to play a small but vocal role in the fight for democracy. Just weeks before Wahid was elected president in October 1999, several key unions joined street protests against the proposed new state security laws. Among them were the SBSI and the radical National Front for Indonesian Workers Struggle (FNPBI).
Since then, the workers' struggle has provided conflicting signals. Union activists I spoke with earlier this year believed most workers shared some level of optimism about the reformed political process and might be willing to give the government and economy a kind of 'honeymoon'. On the other hand, more recent reports show industrial disputes flaring again, some spilling into the streets.
One thing is certain: trade union activity will grow from a low base. Up to half the workers in footwear and non-garment textile industries were retrenched, while an estimated three quarters of construction workers lost their jobs. Most unemployed workers did not return to their villages but remained in the cities, seeking casual labouring work or driving transports. Recent research indicates that these workers were unable to return to agriculture because they have lost the skills and contacts they need to find work in the village. Many do not want to return anyway. Instead, they remain in large new communities of workers, such as those scattered on the outskirts of Greater Jakarta, sharing the work and earnings of their neighbours.
This huge reserve army of unemployed exerts significant pressure upon workers' confidence to take industrial action, and helps explain the drop in strike rates the last two years. It also confirms that the transformation of Indonesia's workers into a permanent urban class over the last twenty years has not been reversed by the economic crisis.
Vedi Hadiz says in an important 1995 study of the Indonesian working class that urbanisation has closed off any avenue of 'retreat' to the village. Workers will now 'stay and fight it out in the cities'. Urbanisation allows traditions of union organisation to grow and be passed on from one generation to the next.
Bolder
'Workers are becoming more bold because of reformasi,' said one company director in June last year. There are growing signs that he may be right. Labour activists insist that the new freedoms haven't made things any easier at the factory level, where they face constant intimidation and harassment, but they aren't wasting the opportunity to build.
The Suharto regime effectively smashed Dita Sari's Centre for Indonesian Workers Struggle (PPBI) after she was thrown in jail. But her comrades resurfaced with a new labour organisation, the National Front for Indonesian Workers Struggle (FNPBI). Even before she was released, they elected Dita to head it up.
The FNPBI, barely a year old, held a national council meeting in West Java in February of this year. It brought together delegates from 11 affiliated labour organisations, four more than last year. The FNPBI remains small, but some of its sections are sizeable organisations with an impressive record of organisation. It is distinguished by a socialist outlook and a commitment to political protest not shared by other independent unions.
The commitment of these new labour organisations is matched by growing bitterness among workers. In February 2000, sacked shoe factory workers from Reebok producer PT Kong Tai Indonesia blocked the toll road outside the Manpower Ministry office for several hours with an angry protest over severance pay. When this didn't work, over a thousand workers staged an occupation of parliament which lasted more than a week. These workers seem to have had little prior history of independent unionism. Their spontaneity is a reminder that workers' frustrations do not always express themselves through established organisations.
Demonstrations have been taking place outside parliament almost every week this year. In April, 5000 teachers, whose profession has no reputation for militancy, swamped parliament house during a strike for a 300% wage rise. They had rejected the government's offer of 100%.
Shoe factory workers at PT Isanti in Semarang won 23 of their 25 demands, including a holiday on May 1 to join the international commemoration of workers struggles. Their union believes this will help to revive a May Day tradition that was forced underground for its association with communism.
Wahid
The relationship between labour and the new government is shaky and not likely to improve. When I asked one group of striking workers what they thought of the election results, they told me that 'only the clothes have changed'.
Muchtar Pakpahan's SBSI is Indonesia's largest and most well established independent union. It is generally close to Wahid, but even that relationship is showing signs of strain. In a test case for the new government, the SBSI is fighting for the release of two members convicted under subversion laws for leading a strike last year at a tyre factory in Tangerang. Muchtar also criticised the recent small rise in the regional minimum wage, saying it was 'just enough to eat and smoke a little, and breathe the air.'
Almost all independent unions, including the SBSI and FNPBI, declared their opposition to the appointment of Bomer Pasaribu, a New Order figure, as Labour Minister. Muchtar Pakpahan calls on international unions to apply pressure for his removal (see box).
Wahid did delay the recent IMF-inspired fuel price rise, but 2,000 protesters gathered at parliament to remind him of what lies ahead. When the price rises inevitably come, bigger protests are expected.
Indonesia's new labour movement is small but growing and the mood of workers is hardening. Trade unions are unlikely to occupy centre stage in the political process unless the economy turns around and the bargaining position of their members improves, but they will be an increasingly important player in the looming confrontations over economic reform. Wahid will ignore them at his peril.
Terry Symonds (tsymonds@powerup.com.au) is the convenor of Australia-Indonesia Union Support. He lives in Brisbane, Australia. The group has wide union links and brought Muchtar Pakpahan to Australia for a visit.
Inside Indonesia 63: Jul - Sep 2000
Jul - Sep 2000
Politics and human rights
Democracy - how far, so far?So how far has Indonesia come on the road to democracy? - Gerry van Klinken
The slow birth of democracyA new generation is challenging the status quo - Munir
Opening that dark pageObstacles in revealing the stories of 1965-66 - Stanley
Box - Sulami explains why....An extract from Sulami's speech at YPKP's first anniversary -Sulami
A century of decentralisationYet again 'power to the regions' is the call - Trevor Buising
Box - What's new? What isn't?Trevor Buising
Wahid, IMF and the peopleUnbowed, an activist continues his questions - Nick Everett with Budiman Sujatmiko
Where is Wiji Thukul?An outspoken poet is silenced - Richard Curtis
Business as usualThe military is slow to get out of business - Lesley McCulloch
The forgotten war in North MalukuThere's more than religion behind the troubles - Smith Alhadar
No longer so 'special'New and different ties for Australia-Indonesia - Scott Burchill
Society and economy
Medan gets a new mayor A tale of two cities: part 1 - Loren Ryter
Inside JeparaA tale of two cities: part 2 - Jim Schiller
'Only the clothes have changed...'Unions still find the going tough - Terry Symonds
Muchtar Pakpahan interview Terry Symonds interviews Muchtar Pakpahan
Fireside chat about AIDSReaching at-risk groups requires new approaches - Ingrid Hering
The kampung bookshelfBringing books to the poor - Bambang Rustanto and Lea Jellinek
Environment
Leave Indonesia's fisheries to Indonesians!Foreign fleets filch fish from local plates - Mark V Erdmann
Culture
Indonesia is definitely OKComic artists explore new freedoms - Laine Berman
Regulars
Your say
Newsbriefs
Scenes from an occupationReview: A lone Australian filmmaker records East Timor's history-making year of 1999 - Baranowska
Bookshop
Inside Indonesia 63: Jul - Sep 2000
Decentralise. Easy to say. Difficult to do.
Trevor Buising
Few states have had as long an experience of decentralisation as has Indonesia. The Dutch, primarily to increase administrative effectiveness, enacted the first law for decentralisation in 1903. It was the first of several designs. Yet Indonesia today is more centralised than it was a century ago. Many states, in particular developing ones, have attempted to decentralise for a bewildering variety of administrative, political and economic reasons. It is a technically complex policy, especially for developing countries. Yet decentralisation is a political as well as an administrative necessity for Indonesia. However daunting the task, Indonesia is so diverse that it has to decentralise, and sooner rather than later.
A recent World Bank study noted that the 'problems associated with decentralisation in developing countries reflect flaws in design and implementation more than any inherent outcome of decentralisation'. Policymakers may not sufficiently understand the specific problems they want to overcome through decentralisation, or they may adopt an ineffective strategy to solve them. Implementation is inherently even more difficult. Policymakers may give the field implementers unclear guidelines. Implementers may lack the required skills and commitment. The policy may lack sufficiently powerful political mentors and organised support to carry it through. Changing circumstances may make the policy redundant, or it may be insufficiently resourced.
Much of this has been the case in Indonesia. Flaws in the original design forced the colonial Dutch to revise the 1903 law in 1921. None of the three 1940's decentralisation laws was satisfactory - they did not apply to all of Indonesia, and they were framed during the anti-colonial struggle for independence, when expediency rather than longer-term considerations was the priority. The Dutch were still working towards implementing the amended design when the Japanese invaded in 1942.
The independent Republic of Indonesia enacted a replacement for these Dutch attempts in 1957. Law 1/ 1957 came out of lengthy negotiations, only to be rendered inoperative in many of its provisions by Presidential Decree No 6 of 1959. The PRRI-Permesta regional rebellions gave President Sukarno the opportunity to replace constitutional democracy under the 1950 provisional constitution with presidential rule under the 1945 constitution.
New Order
The New Order tried to decentralise as well. Law 5 of 1974 was potentially an effective general design, negated by a lack of detailed design and implementation. Like the Dutch, the New Order leadership accepted the need for decentralisation if only as a means of enhancing administrative effectiveness, particularly with respect to development and thus its claims to legitimacy through performance. However, Law 5/ 1974 left many details to be finalised in subordinate legislation. This applied in particular to the problem of sectoral decentralisation - that is, the allocation of specific functions in the various fields of government activity to particular levels of government.
If the break-up of functions between the various levels of government had been included in Law 5 then many (but not all) of the subsequent problems would have been avoided. Sectoral decentralisation is technically complex. Moreover, many bureaucrats in the affected departments perceived decentralisation as detrimental to their institutional interests. This made determining the details a protracted process.
Indeed, if the details had been included in the draft, Law 5 might never have been enacted at all. Thus there may have been good reasons for deferring sectoral decentralisation to supplementary regulations. Still, the longer it took to enact the regulations the more difficult it became to maintain the political will to decentralise in accordance with the original objectives. French decentralisation was on a lesser scale than is being attempted in Indonesia, yet it still took decades, and that by a state with a much greater capacity than that of the often ill-coordinated personal fiefdoms of the Indonesian state.
Law 5/ 1974 had an additional problem. One of its aims was to shift the focus of regional autonomy from the provinces to the regencies (kabupaten) and municipalities. This level was closest to the people and thus the most appropriate for administering services. Before 1974, legislation dealt only with transfers of functions from the central government to the provinces. It regarded sectoral decentralisation to the regencies and municipalities as an internal provincial matter. Furthermore, between 1950 and 1974 the number of provinces had grown from 9 to 26, 17 sectors needed to be decentralised, and the legislation was confusing. On top of that, the oil boom allowed New Order sectoral departments to subvert the objectives of decentralisation by coopting the regions with development money.
In the early 1990's the New Order, especially under dynamic Interior Minister Rudini, sought to revive the impetus for decentralisation. Regulation 45/ 1992 was designed to push through decentralisation to the regencies and municipalities. All functions except those specified as central or provincial functions could go to the regencies and municipalities. Regulation 8/ 1995 implemented these changes and launched the 'Autonomous Regions Pilot Project'. Activities in 19 sectors were to be transferred to the regencies and municipalities (so-called level 2 regions). Inaugurated with great fanfare, this initiative failed because it was under-resourced. The central government gave selected level 2 regions greater responsibilities but no greater funding to go with them.
'Justice'
Last year, the Habibie government brought down Law 22/ 1999 to replace Law 5/ 1974. The new law, it said, would enhance 'democracy, community participation, equitable distribution and justice as well as to take into account the regions' potential and diversity'. Actually it was hardly needed. Law 5/ 1974 could just as well have been implemented to do all this. What was really needed was the supplementary legislation.
The changes are not as great as often imagined. Although consideration was given to abolishing them, the provinces have been retained. (There are compelling reasons for retaining them - they bridge the centre and local communities). However, Law 22 is more specific about the role of the regencies and municipalities than was Law 5. They are no longer part of the hierarchy of 'administrative territories' which made them subordinate to the provinces and hence the centre. As with Regulation 45/ 1992, Law 22 states that the regencies and municipalities can assume responsibility for all aspects of government except those reserved for the central and provincial governments. These regions must in any case assume responsibility for a minimum of eleven fields or sectors, a provision similar to that of Regulation 8 of 1995.
Law 22 also clearly stipulates that the decentralisation of functions to the regions must include the transfer of the relevant resources - facilities and infrastructure, personnel and funding. Obviously the framers of Law 22 have learned something from the failure of the 'Autonomous Regions Pilot Project'.
Yet like Law 5/ 1974, Law 22/ 1999 requires considerable supplementary legislation. With one notable exception little of this legislation has yet been passed. Law 5 and Law 22 both required a replacement for Law 32/ 1956, the inoperable law determining fiscal relations between the centre and the regions. This was finally accomplished with the enactment of Law 25 of 1999. This law should increase revenue adequacy and certainty for the regions, improve regional equity, contribute to macroeconomic stability and enhance transparency, accountability and participation in the budgetary process. However, Law 25 itself also requires considerable supplementary legislation.
Regional development planning also still needs reform. In principle, bottom-up planning has been an important feature of Indonesian development planning processes (known as P5D) since 1982. But in practice the emphasis has been on implementing central government policies, programs and projects, and hence on increasing the effectiveness of regional sectoral agencies to implement rather than design policy. Nobody would argue that effective service delivery is not an important responsibility of the state, but this is not what decentralisation is all about.
At the heart of any decentralisation policy must be the realisation that effective policy requires a comprehensive understanding of local circumstances - so comprehensive that central planners simply cannot do it themselves. Diversity requires diverse policy inputs. If decentralisation is to be effective in Indonesia, regional development planning has to be reoriented towards the needs and potentials of the region itself.
Trevor Buising (tbuising@hotmail.com) is a consultant from Brisbane, Australia. He is a former colonial administrator in Papua New Guinea who recently completed a PhD on Indonesian decentralisation at Griffith University.
Inside Indonesia 63: Jul - Sep 2000
Post-Suharto, central power is weak and 'the local' becomes more important. A look at two very different cities.
Loren Ryter
Medan gets a new mayor
'The Minister of Interior Affairs shouldn't force the people of Medan to play hardball?. If they wanna make this country into [a nation of] cowboys, we're ready.' Medan assembly member Martius Latuperisa issued this threat late in March in the midst of a heated controversy over the planned swearing-in of Medan's new mayor, Abdillah Ak, MBA. Abdillah is a local businessman who on March 20 had been elected by a vote of 35-10 in the local assembly. If necessary, Martius warned, the assembly would inaugurate Mr Abdillah themselves, without Interior Affairs Ministry authorisation. 'We know best who's most fit to be the mayor of Medan. Moreover, the people of Medan are not subordinates of the central government,' asserted Martius, who is the Medan chief of the Armed Forces Sons' and Daughters' Communication Forum (FKPPI). Martius once represented Golkar in the assembly. He is now the faction head of the Golkar splinter party Justice and Unity Party (PKP).
After decades of regional subordination to Jakarta, it is tempting to laud the rise of the local. But this still looks like a New Order kind of conflict. The inter-bureaucratic, inter-personal, and inter-organisational competition for influence reaches from the local to the national. It is not strictly a matter of local autonomy.Yes, the advent of new political parties has heightened competition. A freer media and rising stakes make conflict more visible. But local power continues to be contested much as it has been ever since independence: through mass mobilisation, bribery, and 'lobbying Jakarta.'
Medan was once the colonial seat of the Deli plantation region in Sumatra. Today it is Indonesia's third largest city with a population of over two million. Medan's ethnically diverse composition reflects the legacy of a colonial economy which relied on Chinese, South Asian, and later Javanese contract coolies to work the tobacco and rubber estates, as well as on ethnic Chinese traders to provide basic commercial services. By 1981, ethnic Javanese comprised 29% of the population, and ethnic Chinese made up 13%, four times more than in Indonesia overall.
Military mobilisation during the 1945-49 revolution and during the late 1950s PRRI rebellion against Jakarta brought many Bataks and Mandailing to Medan, where they had previously been a minority. Once demobilised, these youths maintained contacts with military commanders even as they assumed territorial control in the informal economy. By the 1960s, these 'preman' (free men) as they were known, made a living as middle-men in markets, ticket scalpers at the movie theatres, and in private security in ethnic Chinese residential districts.
In response to leftist labour radicalism in plantations and industry, military authorities encouraged the formation of anti-communist labour unions such as Soksi and youth groups such as Pemuda Pancasila (Pancasila Youth, PP). By the time of the October 1965 'coup', these groups were well placed to lead the purges against suspected members of the PKI, and were indeed positively encouraged to do so. Chief among the victims were predominantly ethnic Javanese railway and plantation workers, and urban ethnic Chinese accused of involvement with Communist China.
The leaders of the groups which carried out these purges, as well as civilian and military officials who had violently demonstrated their anti-communist vigour, increasingly gained control of the early New Order economy and polity. Medan had long promised quick fortunes. During the colonial era it was the export hub for 'the land of the dollar' in its hinterland. Plentitudes of disposable cash made Medan particularly suited for gambling and prostitution. Tjong A Fie, the Dutch-appointed Captain-Chinese and the leading non-European power broker in late colonial society, operated government-licensed gambling, opium leases, and nearly thirty brothels. But with their political influence completely smashed by the late 1960s, ethnic Chinese fell to the mercy of power-holders for the continued operation of these ventures as well as legal commerce. The premanwere more than willing to provide the 'protection' they required, under threat of closure, seizure, or worse.
Bad boy democracy
Under these conditions, a kind of bad boy democracy flourished in Medan. Jakarta was never able to perfectly structure Medan's polity from the top down. Central and local authorities were forced to negotiate with the quasi-mafia forces at the grassroots whose growth they themselves had fostered. In fact, this year's controversy over the new mayor echoed a similar contest at the dawn of the New Order. Then, Pemuda Pancasila had openly and successfully championed Sjoerkani for mayor against a candidate backed by the regional military command. Installed in 1966, Sjoerkani served until 1974.
During Sjoerkani's tenure, Pemuda Pancasila's influence grew further. Its members squeezed legal and illegal commerce in the town so tightly that the ethnic Chinese community still calls them 'five claws' (go-jiao) rather than 'five principles' (Pancasila). Not merely a gang of thugs, Pemuda Pancasila also became a springboard into the bureaucracy and even the military. Pemuda Pancasila leaders still boast that even former Abri chief Feisal Tanjung was once a member and a market preman.
However, Pemuda Pancasila's chokehold became irksome to business owners and to military officers who themselves wanted a cut of the action. In the early 1980s a splinter group of PP began to fight for control of territory, and especially for gambling revenues. Ikatan Pemuda Karya (Work Service Youth Association, IPK) was funded in part by Chinese entrepreneurs, and was backed by some military officers including, so it is rumoured, then-Abri commander Benny Murdani. The idea was to create a balance of power.
IPK's leader was a shrewd Christian Toba Batak fluent in Hokkien named Olo Panggabean. Unlike PP, IPK began to directly manage gambling operations rather than merely squeeze them for protection money. Olo got his start while still a PP member at the 1973 Medan Fair, where he was in charge of security. Shortly thereafter he opened kim, a variety of bingo played for cash prizes, which he still runs openly at the Medan Fair ground.
Though they mortally fought each other on the streets, IPK strove to support Golkar even more fervently than did PP. Golkar election campaigns provided the ideal venue to stage a show of force. Each group mobilised thousands of its members clad in their respectively coloured camouflage uniforms. By the late 1980s and into the 1990s, other national Golkar-supporting youth groups became minor players in Medan's territorial scene, notably FKPPI, the army brats' youth group, which for most of its late New Order existence was led nationally by Suharto scion Bambang Trihatmojo.
Clashes between the groups' rank and file were often actually lucrative for their municipal leaders, who themselves sat comfortably in their assembly seats. (Each group had at least one representative in the local assembly, always with Golkar.) For several years during the early 1990s, a protracted three-way battle known as the 'the poison arrow affair' ensued between PP, IPK, and FKPPI in the Polonia district of Medan, an area adjacent to the airport slated for luxury housing development. Developers colluded with the youth group chiefs to provoke a protracted conflict which would scare off residents and drive down land prices.
For the Medan bosses, reformasi ushered in new opportunities as well as some new obstacles. They did not see multi-party elections as a formidable threat. IPK continued to support Golkar. FKPPI split between Golkar and its splinter party PKP. Senior leaders of PP hedged their bets, fanning out into Golkar, PKP, PAN, and also PDI-P. One local PP boss running on a Golkar ticket lost the election in his district of Padang Bulan but still gained a seat after negotiation within Golkar. Most bosses who held seats retained them, though sometimes under new party banners.
But what did the rise of the new parties imply for territorial control? To IPK in particular, members of the security wing of Megawati's PDI-P were dangerous pretenders, all the more so since many rank and file PP members had joined their forces. Golkar assembly member and Medan IPK chief Moses Tambunan told an IPK rally shortly after the elections to prepare for a fight: 'Clearly PDI-P is out to undermine us. They gotta eat too. If they beg for rice, give them some. But if they want the rice bowl, forget about it!'
Other institutional changes brought about by reformasi were more important. The separation of the police from the rest of the armed forces gave PP new leverage against IPK. PP began to demand that the police crack down on illegal gambling. As if obediently, in December the police mobile brigade avenged IPK's stabbing of one of its members by shooting up Olo's headquarters, known locally as 'the White House.' IPK in turn relied on the regional military command, whose logistics operations it has openly helped finance, to admonish the police.
'Cooperate'
Medan's established forces found a common candidate for mayor in Abdillah Ak. As a local entrepreneur he could be expected to generate numerous projects to be contracted out. During the mass mobilisations surrounding the mayoral candidacy, both FKPPI and the Youth Front of the political party PAN were among Abdillah's militant supporters. One of PP's senior leaders sits on the North Sumatran board of PAN.
Abdillah was fully willing to cooperate with all groups holding effective power in Medan. PDI-P's original candidate, Professor Firman Tambun, took a less pragmatic stance and suffered for it. After clashes between PP and IPK in November and December 1999, Tambun stated that the police must enforce the law and arrest criminals, not just summon the youth group leaders for reconciliation. He was subsequently shut out of the candidate list entirely.
PDI-P held more seats in the local assembly than any other party - 16 out of 45 - yet they failed to secure their mayoral candidate. The circumstances that led to this failure were only brought to light through non-procedural means. After the assembly voted to elect Abdillah mayor, a group of PDI-P cadres calling itself the Struggle Bull Youth Movement abducted 12 of the PDI-P's 16 assembly members and took them to the party's provincial headquarters. There they were pelted and threatened with knives. Four of them then signed a prepared confession that each of them had accepted 25 million rupiah from Abdillah's 'Success Team' in exchange for their votes.
On April 18, the governor of North Sumatra finally swore in the new mayor in a local assembly building guarded by army troops, members of the security wing of the PDI-P siding with their party's assembly members, and members of FKPPI. The inauguration caught Medan by surprise. It came the day after the Attorney General's Medan office indicted Mr Abdillah on charges of corruption and vote buying. Nevertheless, the inauguration was technically legal. The Minister of Interior Affairs authorised it in a decree issued mere hours after the Attorney General's office announced the indictment.
Loren Ryter (loren@u.washington.edu) is completing a doctoral dissertation on youth and preman in Jakarta and Medan at the University of Washington in Seattle.
Inside Indonesia 63: Jul - Sep 2000
Until Gus Dur can bring military business activities under control, they won't go 'back to barracks'
Lesley McCulloch
In 1998 a study by the Indonesian Institute of Sciences (LIPI) exposed, not for the first time, the fact that the military had their fingers in the country's economic pie. What was different this time was the coverage it received in the media, exposing the size and variety of the pies in which the generals had their 'sticky fingers'. Amid the protests that led to Suharto's fall, military business activities were yet another 'open secret' to join the fray. Business down the barrel of a gun, a practice as old as Indonesia itself, has been lucrative indeed. Military business assets were estimated to be greater than US$8 billion in 1998. These activities are pervasive, corrupt and exist in the formal, informal, and even criminal economic sectors.
There can be no mistaking Gus Dur's desire to return the military to barracks and democratise both politics and the economy. But it is proving to be a delicate balancing act. The president has warned that the country still needs the armed forces as an institution, and should therefore not engage in 'anti TNI sentiment'. Defence Minister Juwono Sudarsono remarked recently that Indonesia couldn't yet afford democracy. For most it is a daily battle for survival, he observed, and only 10% of Indonesians can afford the luxury of participating in democracy.
Like most ordinary Indonesians, the military rank and file does not reap rich rewards from their institution's business activities. The military initially became involved in commercial activities because the government could not afford to provide for their welfare and running costs. So what has changed since Gus Dur became president?
The government is still unable to provide for the needs of the military. Regular salaries do not adequately provide for the basic needs of personnel. Recent salary increases to public servants and the military averaging 30 percent are a start, but have made little difference with prices spiraling. While it is generally agreed that higher salaries do not necessarily guarantee less corruption and 'extra-military' activities, it would at least be a starting point.
Late last year Juwono Sudarsono demanded a 62.9 percent increase in the 2000-2001 defence budget, arguing that if this was not forthcoming the professionalism of the military as a defence force would continue to be compromised by corruption and commercial activities. Theodore Friend of the Foreign Policy Research Institute in Washington says such commercial activities only produce 'clumsy entrepreneurs and flabby soldiers'. However, the 2000 defence budget did not include any raise. At Rp 10.1 trillion (about US$ 1.4 billion) it involved no change - it was merely a percentage of the 1999 budget to reflect its nine-month duration.
Nevertheless the military's hierarchy of needs is no secret. Armed forces chief Admiral Widodo Adisucipto has announced a 'wish list' of naval vessels and aircraft upgrades. He specifically mentioned the planned purchase of two Parcham-class corvettes and upgrades of seven F-16A/B jet fighters, at a combined cost of over Rp60 billion. He also wants large fast patrol craft. Navy chief Admiral Sucipto recently revealed plans to increase personnel numbers by 20,000 over five years to facilitate the expanding role of the navy. The result? More sticky fingers will be dipping into the economic pie.
The government has recently announced it intends to turn to China for weapons in its attempt to side step what it regards as politically motivated procurement barriers raised by the US and other Western defence manufacturers. Preference for these equipment upgrades was borne out by a confidential Indonesian military source who recently conceded to me that the priority is to channel additional government defence allocation to 'modernisation and maintenance of equipment', rather than to use it as a lever to extract the military from business by raising salaries even more.
In addition to weapons a considerable portion of the budget is to be allocated to recruitment and training. Here we have an institution that openly declares its inability to adequately compensate existing personnel, but still intends to increase its numbers. Until the effects of the crisis were felt in 1998, military budgets increased throughout the 1990s. But the number of active personnel also rose, from 270,000 active regulars in 1990 to 298,000 by the late 1990s (excluding paramilitary forces of around 177,000). These personnel increases made it impossible for budget increases to deliver enhanced welfare benefits.
Off-budget
Indonesian defence spending is much higher than that declared in the official budget. Revrisond Baswir, a prominent Indonesian economist, has suggested that the declared defence budget accounts for only 25 percent of true defence spending. The rest comes from military cooperatives, foundations and stock purchases, and from corrupt practices at the institutional, group and individual level. Profits from these 'ventures' are divided three ways. Some is siphoned off to well-placed individuals, some is reinvested in the companies, and some becomes extra-budgetary income for the military. The true amounts can only be guessed at.
The government has stated it must continue to accept these commercial activities as an inevitable necessity until it can afford to increase the defence budget. This means it is also implicitly saying it has no alternative but - to use an increasingly popular Indonesian euphemism - to expect a certain 'leakage' of any profits from these unsupervised businesses to individuals and groups within the military.
Gus Dur has recognised the wisdom of not trying to put the cart before the horse. Only when the problem of the official defence budget has been addressed can the government claim the moral authority to insist that the military relinquish its hold on the economy. Indeed in a country where the military remains the most efficiently functioning institution, this may be a wise move. Meanwhile a network of military influence continues, together with an institutional mindset that accepts off-budget financing as normal - a potentially unsettling combination.
Gus Dur wants to turn Indonesia into a fully functioning democracy, but removing the military from business is not top of the list on his hierarchy of priorities. In the months since taking office he has certainly declared his intention to stamp out endemic corruption, improve corporate governance (a pledge to the IMF), and oversee the retreat of the military from civil society.
But his real priorities have become quite apparent. They have been, firstly, to adopt an individual rather than an institutional focus by filling key positions with reformists both in the military and in government.
His second priority seems to have been to meet the requirements of the January 2000 IMF Letter of Intent (LoI) in order to secure the economic bailout on offer. Failure to deliver all reforms stipulated in the LoI has already led to a delay in the next US$ 400 million of the three-year US$5 billion support package. Following this action by the IMF, Gus Dur's somewhat confusing policy orations quickly sharpened to focus on these reforms, 90 percent of which the government says have now been met. Article 31 of the LoI addresses off-budget funds. The government intends to increase transparency and has instructed the State Audit Board (BPKP) that future audits of government agencies' financial operations should 'take full account of all extra-budgetary sources of support'. This 'best practice' begins in 2000 and 'will include the military'. Unfortunately this is the limited extent of the government's attempts to extract the military from business - military businesses will now be accountable to an independent audit.
Gus Dur is no doubt treading carefully. Powerful interests are at stake, perhaps none more so than the very existence of his government. As Indonesia continues to languish in the aftermath of the economic crisis there will be no significant increase in the defence budget for the foreseeable future. The military will become more rather than less reliant on a diminishing number of extra-budgetary sources - which themselves have suffered in the economic crisis. In the past, the 'clumsy entrepreneurs' had access to such perks and privileges that many businesses were kept afloat which were not commercially viable. Those military businesses and business connections that have survived can no longer rely on the levels of patronage they previously received.
If the government pushes this, the only truly functioning government institution, offside, in other words, if it pushes reform quicker than the military can accept it, the results may bring even more chaos. Perhaps Gus Dur is wise to concentrate on consolidating his power rather on reform. But so long as this is the case, it is 'business as usual' for the military.
Ms Lesley McCulloch (lesley@bicc.de) is writing a study of Indonesian military spending for the Bonn International Center for Conversion (BICC) in Germany. BICC (www.bicc.de) is dedicated to promoting processes that shift resources away from the defence sector towards alternative civilian uses.
Inside Indonesia 63: Jul - Sep 2000
How do you reach illiterate young people at risk from HIV/AIDS? These volunteers take them camping.
Ingrid Hering
Vickram Amiri knows the ways of the streets. At 19, this Manadonese youth is the youngest outreach worker in an HIV/AIDS prevention project for marginalised youth run by a local non-government organisation.
His earlier years mirrored the lifestyle of the project's target group in the North Sulawesi capital - drinking, drug use, numerous partners who were also sex workers, hanging around with friends, and sleeping on the streets. He first came into contact with the non-government organisation Yayasan Mitra Masyarakat (YMM) two years ago when he participated in one of the monthly three-day camping sessions aimed at distributing information about sexually transmitted diseases (STD) and HIV/AIDS. The sessions convey the message through role plays, small group discussions, case studies, information sessions, and question and answer time with a HIV/AIDS specialist. Camping as a tool to reach marginalised youth is unique in Indonesia. Before camping, Vickram had never heard about HIV/AIDS.
He was subsequently trained as a peer educator. Although not instantly, his lifestyle slowly changed and he believed many of his friends were at high risk of infection by STDs, which is one of the channels of HIV /AIDS infection. The girls often had four to five partners in one night, encouraged by their boyfriends who acted as pimps and who were themselves often drunk or used drugs.
Early last year Vickram became an outreach worker. Despite finding it initially daunting he has come to view his youth as an advantage. 'They (the target group) receive me as a friend, which makes it easier to give them information and for them to receive it,' he explained.
Some of his friends are reducing their intake or using drugs in a safer manner. Others who are sexually active but have never used condoms have become aware of the dangers. 'Camping is very effective to give information because it appeals to youth,' Vickram said.
His work is sometimes made difficult by his age, or because discussing sex is still taboo. He has to overcome myths such as that lemon juice on the genitals will kill infection, that only foreigners get HIV/AIDS, or that only transvestites (bancis) use condoms. The project has led to behaviour change, but this can be difficult to sustain if the youth have no regular activities. 'Their environment does not support them to change. It can influence them to return to their former behaviours,' Vickram said.
Indonesia's official figure of 1080 HIV/AIDS cases is greatly underestimated, mainly due to a poor surveillance system. According to Dr James Sinaya, one of about 20 HIV/AIDS specialists in the country, HIV/AIDS here is a time bomb in the face of globalisation and a growing illicit drug trade.
Manado in particular is at high risk. Youth unemployment is high, a large maritime and unskilled labour force work overseas, and the town shares a reputation with West Java for its beautiful women.
The government supports the distribution of information, but Dr Sinaya wants to see more funds for testing kits, which had been dropped as a policy priority, and more recreational activities for young people.
Much of the question and answer sessions are spent dispelling popular myths such as the use of beads, needles and horsehair around or in the penis to increase sexual pleasure. Dr Sinaya believes the greatest obstacles for disseminating information are the diversity of ethnic languages, illiteracy and religious objections to discussing of sex.
YMM's prevention project is funded by USAID and has been running since 1997. It has reached more than 3600 youths to date. According to project manager Umar Mato, written material is not enough to be effective for this target group, due to their limited attention span, minimal education and transient lifestyle. The use of peer educators to reach them, outreach workers to give follow-up information, and activities such as World AIDS Day expos and small group discussions help reinforce information given during camping.
Pak Umar believes the biggest hurdles to be overcome are the resistance to condom use and the increasing prevalence of injecting drug use, particularly heroin. 'The Department of Religion here is not brave enough yet to talk about condom use or promote it,' he said. 'They still hope HIV/AIDS is not a big problem because in North Sulawesi there are only three (official) cases.'
Government prevention strategies are in place, as they were in Thailand 10 years ago, but Pak Umar believes it has not translated into action, partly because 100% condom use is not being pushed. Attention also needs to be focused on injecting drug use. 'Otherwise we will be late, like Thailand and Malaysia,' he added.
Ingrid Hering (ingrid_1010@hotmail.com) is an Australian Volunteers International volunteer, working with Yayasan Mitra Masyarakat in Manado, North Sulawesi.
Inside Indonesia 63: Jul - Sep 2000
Page 65 of 67
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