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The Politics of Change in Indonesia: Challenges for Australia
Stephen Sherlock
Foreign Affairs, Defence and Trade Group
Major Issues
Introduction
Stability and Economic Progress under Suharto
A Changing Society, New Challenges
The 'New Order' Becomes Old
The Politics of Transition and Challenges for
Australia
Conclusion
Endnotes
Riots in the Indonesian capital, Jakarta, on the weekend of 27-28 July
1996 have raised questions about the stability of the Suharto government.
They have focused attention on the major changes that have occurred in
Indonesian society in the last thirty years, and the strains these developments
have placed on the Indonesian political structure as the country moves
towards a transition from the Suharto era.
The founding principle of President Suharto's 'New Order' was that political
stability was necessary for economic progress. Under the 'New Order' Indonesia
has averaged 6 per cent economic growth and has made major advances in
social indicators such as health and education. But the cost has been
political repression, including the jailing of 1.35 million people after
1965 and heavy restrictions on civil rights and political freedom. Only
three political parties are officially sanctioned, and they operate within
severe limitations.
Economic growth has given rise to a new middle class and working class.
The wealthier end of the middle class has a strong stake in the status
quo, but dissatisfaction amongst the less prosperous middle class about
the economic dominance of a select few has found expression in rising
student and Islamic movements. The growth in the industrial labour force
has led to pressure for the formation of independent trade unions. These
new movements can only operate if there is respect for civil rights; their
growing strength is an important force pressing for democratisation. The
accumulation of great wealth by the Suharto family also appears to be
a major source of popular resentment.
President Suharto is now 75 years old and must soon declare his intentions
regarding the 1998 presidential selection process. The question of when
and how Suharto will allow a transition from his rule has revealed some
of the differences amongst the powerful actors in Indonesian politics.
There is reported to be contention between Suharto and his closest supporters
such as Technology Minister, B.J. Habibie, and elements in the military
who are pushing for a more rapid succession, and even for political liberalisation.
Suharto and Habibie have moved to widen their support by attempting to
co-opt Islamic sentiment to their side.
From the late 1980s, contention at the elite level of politics provided
the background to a new policy of Keterbukaan or 'openness'. This
allowed the formation of a range of popular organisations and a new atmosphere
of freer expression. As President Suharto has moved to secure his control
in the lead-up to the 1998 presidential selection, however, there has
been a reimposition of control, symbolised by the crackdown on Megawati
Sukarnoputri of the Indonesian Democratic Party.
These issues raise questions for Australia's Indonesia policy, which
has been founded on the rock of the stability of President Suharto's regime.
Since the July riots there has been a debate about whether the Australian
Government is too reliant on Suharto, and thus cut off from non-government
actors in Indonesian politics. Supporters of current policy argue that
Australia has little option but to maintain good relations with the incumbent
government of such an important and close neighbour.
When the differences between the sides in the debate are translated
into feasible policy positions, they frequently amount to little more
than variations in the tone and agenda of diplomatic dialogue. Australia
has limited capacity to influence the course of events in Indonesian politics,
and its interests in Indonesia are too great to be jeopardised by a major
dispute with the Indonesian government. Nevertheless, in the right circumstances,
the Indonesian Government has shown that it can be influenced by international
pressure.
All sides of the debate agree that Indonesia should be closely monitored
in the coming months and years. Developments such as a rise in Islamic
fundamentalism or in racial tensions would have major implications for
Australia-Indonesia relations. These issues are particularly sensitive
because their exploitation by political groups mean they have the potential
to become entangled in the politics of succession.
The attention of the Australian and international community was captured
by the spectacle of violent clashes between the police, military and demonstrators
in the centre of the Indonesian capital, Jakarta, during the weekend of
27 and 28 July 1996. The riots were ignited when the military moved into
the headquarters of the Indonesian Democratic Party (PDI) to remove supporters
of PDI leader, Megawati Sukarnoputri, who were occupying the building
in defiance of an attempt by the government-supported faction of the Party
to take over the organisation from Megawati.
The Indonesian government, under the leadership of President Suharto,
has long prided itself on bringing political stability to the country
after the upheavals of the Sukarno period before 1965. This political
stability has been accompanied by impressive levels of economic growth
and improvement in social indicators such as health standards and education.
Such progress, however, has not been without its own limitations and problems.
Wealth remains unevenly distributed, there is increasing resentment about
the dominance and wealth of the Suharto family, and dissatisfaction is
expressing itself in demands for democratisation, the right to form independent
trade unions and in the rise of Islamic organisations. At the same time,
after thirty years of control by President Suharto, even people at an
elite level are raising questions about ways to manage a transition from
the rule of their aging President.
The riots thus do not appear to be a passing aberration but an indicator
of major changes occurring in Indonesian society and politics, and of
emerging questions about the transition from President Suharto's rule
and the future shape of the country's political institutions. This paper
examines the origin and nature of these changes, the strains they are
placing on existing political structures, and the possible course of events
during a succession from President Suharto. The paper then examines the
debate about the appropriate way for policy-makers in Australia to respond
to these challenges.
President Suharto took power during a violent upheaval in Indonesia
in 1965 and 1966 after an abortive coup attempt by a group of army officers
which became the pretext for a violent onslaught by the Army and its supporters
against the Communist Party of Indonesia, resulting in the death of as
many as 500 000 people.(1)
With these events in mind, and after the chaos of the final years of
the rule of Indonesia's first President, Sukarno, in the early 1960s,
the first priority of then General Suharto's new regime was political
stability in order to establish the conditions for economic progress.
The bedrock of the regime thus became Suharto's control over the Indonesian
Armed Forces (ABRI) which prevented activity by any group seen to be a
threat to the 'New Order'. These were, first of all, Communists or any
peasant, worker or student group which could be branded as Communist,
but also liberal democrats and 'fundamentalist' Islamic organisations.
ABRI also suppressed any secessionist tendencies amongst outlying parts
of the Indonesian archipelago, such as Aceh, East Timor or Irian Jaya.
The annexation of East Timor was itself seen as a preventing the establishment
of an unstable 'Communist' regime after the departure of the Portuguese.
Under its dwifungski ('dual function') role, ABRI was also accorded
a role in promoting social development. Serving and retired ABRI officers
took on many official roles from cabinet office, to provincial governorships,
to village level administrators. In these circumstances the opinion of
the ABRI hierarchy has always been a major influence on government decision-making,
although this power is confined by the President's power to appoint and
transfer senior officers.
It can be argued that the stability of Suharto's regime was achieved
at the cost of civil and human rights, as any dissent was crushed and
many people suffered from the enforcement of political control. An estimated
1.35 million people, supporters of the Communists and a range of other
democratic and Islamic organisations, remained imprisoned after 1965,
and though most have since been released, they were effectively stripped
of citizenship and civil rights.(2) The stability has been on occasions
upset by outbreaks of resistance and dissent, including the 1974 student
riots, Muslim riots in Jakarta in 1984 and riots by workers during a labour
dispute in Sumatra in April 1994, as well as the continuing conflicts
in East Timor and Irian Jaya.
In order to provide some outlet for popular political activity, while
keeping it within strict limits, the 'New Order' established a system
of elections for the legislature. The limits to this apparently democratic
constitution were that only officially-sanctioned candidates from three
parties could contest. These were Golkar, the party of the government
and ABRI, the United Development Party (PPP), a government-enforced amalgam
of pre-1965 Muslim groups, and the Indonesian Democratic Party (PDI),
created out of the remaining legal political organisations. All government
employees and members of ABRI were obliged to support Golkar and, with
other government support during elections, Golkar has consistently won
60-70 per cent of the vote, with the remainder roughly evenly divided
between the two other parties. The government's control in the legislature
was also further enhanced by a direct allocation of seats to ABRI representatives.
Whatever the costs of the political control under the New Order, however,
there were clear benefits for economic growth. With the end of the Sukarno
regime's foreign policy adventurism, Indonesia received major financial
assistance and advice from foreign aid donors. By the beginning of the
1970s the economy had stabilised and a program of economic planning directed
public investment into infrastructure, agriculture and manufacturing.
Growth was given a major boost by the exploitation of the country's large
oil reserves, which became the most important source of foreign exchange.
Despite periodic problems, particularly associated with fluctuating oil
prices, Indonesia has maintained consistently good rates of economic growth
(an average of 6 per cent) and in recent years has established a significant
industrial base and to move beyond dependence on oil exports. This development
has enabled GNP per capita to increase from less than $US100 in 1970 to
$US740 in 1993, and the number of people living in absolute poverty to
decline from 70 per cent of the population in the 1970s to 15 per cent
today.(3) Social indicators have also improved: for example, infant mortality
declined from 118 per 1000 live births in 1970 to 56 per 1000 in 1993
and enrolment in secondary education more than doubled from 16 per cent
of the population in 1970 to 38 per cent in 1992.(4)
Economic development of this magnitude has naturally brought with it
rapid change in the nature of Indonesian society and new challenges for
a government intent on maintaining close political control. Following
the July riots a retired ABRI general, Soemitro, who was deputy commander
of the armed forces during the 1974 riots(5), was prompted to observe
that:
In 1974 it was very easy to overcome because I was only dealing with the
students, but now there are so many interest groups. Indonesian society
is now more complex so this is more serious and dangerous.(6)
Growing Middle Class and Working Class
The rise of a new middle class is often cited as one of the developments
likely to create pressure for greater democracy in Indonesia. In the case
of larger business concerns, however, there is little evidence for this
because ownership is dominated by ethnic Chinese whose racial background
forces them to keep a low political profile, or by ethnic Indonesians
who owe their wealth to family connections to those in power. Neither
group has an interest in challenging the status quo.(7) On the other hand,
many children of less wealthy families with few connections who have been
drawn into tertiary education in recent years have joined the flourishing
student movement which has become a significant political actor since
the end of the 1980s. This environment has also fostered the growth of
many non-government organisations committed to social and political change,
including some who have influenced the development of independent labour
and peasant organisations. The small, activist Democratic People's Party
(PRD), blamed by the government for instigating the recent riots and now
operating largely underground, comes largely from such a milieu. The urban
lower middle class has equally become a major recruiting ground for Islamic
groups which have experienced a resurgence in recent years as Islamic
ideas have gained more popular currency, although the less strict nature
of Islam in Indonesia militates against the influence of 'fundamentalist'
interpretations of Islam.
Industrialisation has led to the emergence of a large urban labour force
in Indonesia, with numbers tripling in the last two decades to exceed
25 million today.(8) While increased employment has created new opportunities
for many Indonesians, there is also what one observer has termed 'a growing
feeling that labour has been left behind in the development process ...
compared with the growing incomes of the middle class'.(9) Many workers
feel a sense of relative deprivation, but they are also developing a new-found
sense of their potential power as an organised social force. This has
been reflected in an increase in strikes and other labour unrest in recent
years, the most serious manifestation of which arose when a campaign for
higher wages in the north Sumatran city of Medan in April 1994 developed
into a series of riots and the killing of a ethnic Chinese businessman.
Labour matters have traditionally been dealt with by the government-sponsored
union federation, but many employees have become dissatisfied with the
performance of this union, a feeling reflected in the increasing support
for independent workers' unions. The government is finding it increasingly
difficult to suppress independent union activity, and incidents such as
the 1994 imprisonment of Muchtar Pakpahan, leader of the Indonesian Workers'
Welfare Union, and the 1993 murder of the young woman independent union
activist, Marsinah, allegedly by the security forces, have drawn unfavourable
international attention to Indonesia's treatment of its workers. The United
States government sent a high level delegation to Indonesia in 1993 to
investigate labour standards, and has continued to apply pressure on the
Suharto government over the issue. Independent unions can operate successfully
only if there is an atmosphere of respect for civil and political rights,
and their growing strength is an important new force for democratisation.
Corruption and Popular Resentment
There is a number of key common issues giving rise to popular dissatisfaction.
The first is resentment about corruption in public life and the domination
of economic opportunities and accumulation of great wealth by a select
few. Alleged corruption in the Suharto family is a longstanding source
of grievance for many Indonesians, and was one of the factors behind the
1974 riots. The matter has been kept in the public mind by the controversial
granting of monopoly rights in the huge trade in cloves (a key ingredient
in Indonesian cigarettes) to a member of the Suharto family, the imposition
of a beer tax controlled by another family member, and most recently,
the issuing of a car manufacturing licence, under highly concessional
tax arrangements, to the President's son.(10) For many people, such issues
draw attention to maldistribution of wealth and power: for the middle
class the issue is nepotism in jobs and arbitrary regulation of economic
activity, for workers it is low wages and suppression of trade union rights,
and for some Muslims it is what they see as the un-Islamic conduct of
economic and political affairs.
President Suharto's 'New Order' was founded on the idea that political
stability was essential for economic progress. Now that these basic conditions
have been fulfilled, and new social forces have emerged with new demands
on their agenda, many Indonesians are openly arguing that the 'New Order'
should reform. At the centre of the new realities is the fact that President
Suharto is now 75 years old, has been in power for thirty years, and must
soon declare his intentions regarding the 1998 presidential elections.
Jockeying for position and influence over the presidential succession
has revealed divisions amongst the elites of Indonesian politics. The
closeness between Suharto and the generation of ABRI officers who worked
alongside him during the turmoil of the 1960s has broken down as a new
generation has moved into top positions. Many in this generation are strongly
(although not openly) critical of Suharto's domination of politics and,
in particular, the amassing of wealth by his family, and some see the
need to hasten the transition from the Suharto era or even support democratisation.
What many top officers saw as the humiliation of ABRI after the Dili massacre
of 1991 widened the distance between Suharto and the military.(11) Division
between the two was publicly revealed when ABRI and Suharto supported
rival candidates during the selection process for the vice-presidency
in 1988 and 1993.(12)
As Suharto began to distance himself from ABRI, he and some of his key
confidants, such as the powerful Technology Minister, B.J. Habibie, began
to appeal to Islamic sentiment and to build closer relations with Islamic
organisations. Habibie sponsored the formation of the Indonesian Association
of Muslim Intellectuals (ICMI) to draw upon support from Islamic-oriented
sections of the new middle class, and to ensure that rising Islamic sentiment
is channelled into a 'moderate' and pro-Golkar stream. This has in turn
given Islamic ideas and some organisations a greater influence in government
and public affairs.(13) These moves have antagonised some within ABRI
who regard Islamic politics as a greater threat to stability than the
Communists, particularly fundamentalist versions which undermine the traditions
of religious tolerance which have characterised Indonesian society.(14)
In the atmosphere of open, if muted, debate at a high level, the 1980s
and early 1990s saw the start of a period of keterbukaan or 'openness',
sanctioned by Suharto himself. Within the legislature there was discussion
of the need for democratic reform, and a number of influential people
formed groups calling for the easing of political controls. In East Timor,
restrictions on travel to, from, and within the territory were lifted.
The formation of a National Commission on Human Rights in 1993, a body
whose independence has surprised many observers, appeared to signal a
clear commitment to change. This period has also seen the rise of the
student movement, independent trade unions, and a flowering of non-government
political and social organisations, many committed to the promotion of
human rights and civil liberties. It was this loosening of the reins which
provided the opportunity for the election of Megawati Sukarnoputri to
the leadership of the PDI in 1993. Her election occurred in a blaze of
publicity and was contrary to Suharto's wishes, but there were rumours
that she was backed by sections of the army, a possibility which underscored
the rift with the President, as well as divisions within ABRI.
The policy of 'openness' has, however, generally been viewed within
ruling circles as a limited concession. In fact, the violent crackdown
on the Megawati forces within the PDI is only the most recent of a series
of actions which suggest that Suharto is moving to reassert his control
and to halt any momentum towards democratisation. The most obvious signs
were the closure of the newsmagazine Tempo and other publications
in June 1994 and the suppression of independent unions. This impression
has also been reinforced by the campaign against so-called 'formless organisations'
which government spokespeople claim are emulating the methods of the banned
Communist Party. This is a very serious accusation in Indonesia and its
application to those charged with responsibility for the July riots, and
the round of arrest of pro-democracy activists that followed, runs counter
to ideas that the country is in the process of political liberalisation.
Many commentators have suggested that Suharto's actions are part of
his wish to be succeeded as President by a member of his family, or at
least to secure its wealth and position under a new government. The recent
promotion of his son-in-law, Prabowo, to be the youngest ever Major-General
may well illustrate this point. Since there is no obvious successor, Suharto
needs time to find a suitable candidate, to build support for him and
to establish a procedure for transfer of power. Another view says that
Suharto is declining to give serious consideration to a succession because
he sees this as undermining his authority. Under either of these interpretations,
Suharto cannot allow an acceleration of momentum towards liberalisation,
and in fact needs to demonstrate to both elite contenders for power as
well as rising popular forces that he is in full control. The danger in
the Megawati phenomenon for Suharto is that it represents a coming together
of both elite and popular sources of opposition. Thus although the crushing
of Megawati's PDI required a crude show of force which damaged Suharto's
international image, he may have considered it necessary to halt the growth
of new and threatening political configurations.
The crisis for any authoritarian regime based heavily on the personality
of a single individual comes when power must be transferred to a successor.
In the pre-modern world, or in an economically-backward rural society
today, with a small ruling elite, the contention for power can be confined
to a limited number of players. Palace coups or military coups can be
short if bloody events. The problem for Indonesia today is that the country
is ruled by an elitist regime, but in the last thirty years it has grown
into a society where popular forces are clamouring for a new political
role. The manner in which ruling elements in Indonesia attempt to deal
with the transition to a post-Suharto era will be a key determinant of
the stability of Indonesian politics in coming years. If they try to minimise
the extent of popular participation and fail to come to terms with the
new forces in Indonesian society, the country could experience considerable
turbulence. Relating to the changing nature of government and politics
in Indonesia will be a major challenge for Australia.
President Suharto and Australia's Indonesia Policy
Australian government policy towards Indonesia has been founded on the
rock of the stability of Suharto's regime. After the Sukarno period, when
Indonesia was seen as a destabilising influence with whom Australia might
even go to war, Suharto's Indonesia has been considered a bulwark of Western
interests in the region. It is, however, often forgotten today that for
some years after 1965 there were still many doubts about the stability
of the 'New Order'. The statement by the then Prime Minister, Mr Paul
Keating, after the signing of the Australia-Indonesia Agreement on Security
in December 1995, that the establishment of the Suharto government 'was
the event of most positive strategic significance in the postwar years',(15)
was probably accurate but was symptomatic of the tendency to slide over
the very real dangers of political upheaval in Indonesia in the last thirty
years and the impact it might have had on Australia.
Following the July riots a number of commentators raised the question
of whether Australia has placed too much reliance on the stability and
longevity of the current regime in Jakarta. Geoffrey Barker argues that
Australia has 'placed all its diplomatic and strategic eggs in the Suharto
basket and assumed hopefully that the succession would be smooth'.(16)
Similarly, Brian Toohey declared that 'the time has come for Australian
policy makers to abandon their belief that sucking up to President Suharto
is the same thing as encouraging a healthy long-term relationship with
Indonesia'.(17) According to this view, Australian policy-makers have
failed to appreciate the extent of opposition to the Suharto regime and
the likelihood of a turbulent transition. The government should, therefore,
'step back a little from Suharto'(18) and show more sympathy for and willingness
to talk with dissident voices in Indonesia. Supporters of this line are
generally critical of the Australia-Indonesia Security Agreement as providing
legitimacy to the 'New Order'.(19) They contend that a rapid change of
government in Indonesia would leave Australia isolated and tarred with
a reputation of having been a prop to the old discredited regime.
An opposing point of view, however, says that while difficult times
in Indonesian politics will bring both domestic and diplomatic challenges,
the Australian government will be adequately equipped to respond because
it is aware of, and in communication with, a range of critics and opponents
of the Indonesian government. Arguing this position, Greg Sheridan contends
that much criticism of current policy 'fails to recognise the limits of
Australian influence or the depth of Australian interests in the Indonesia
relationship'.(20) The thrust of this argument is that there are in fact
few options for Australian policy because Australia has little capacity
to influence the course of events in Indonesia, and that to overstretch
that capacity would jeopardise Australia's interests in a very important
relationship. Whatever the future of the Suharto government might be,
the reality is that it is firmly in power today and has the power to adversely
affect Australia's economic and strategic well-being should it interpret
the Australian government to be meddling or hostile.(21)
When the differences between such viewpoints are translated into feasible
policy positions, they frequently amount to little more than variations
in the tone and agenda of diplomatic dialogue. No Australian government
which valued Australian interests or its own domestic support could take
actions such as restricting aid, trade, investment, defence co-operation
or personal interchanges, or openly support separatist and anti-government
movements. The US can more freely take such actions because the relative
might of the two countries is quite different from that between Australia
and Indonesia. Equally, while it is feasible, for example, for Australia
to take a strong position on human rights in Burma because few Australian
interests are involved, there is much more at stake in Indonesia. The
present Australian Government's difficulties over the abolition of the
Development Import Finance Facility (DIFF)(22) scheme attest to impact
of making even small changes which involve commercial interests on either
side. Even informal contacts between Australian and Indonesian labour
organisations became a source of irritation to the Indonesian authorities,
and thus a problem for the Australian Government.
Thus much of the debate over Australia's response to developments in
Indonesia will revolve around the strength of Australia's stand on human
rights and when, where and how often they are raised during dialogue with
the Indonesian government. This is not to say, however, that the debate
is not important. Nuances in the language of diplomacy are a crucial part
of the conduct of international affairs, sending signals between capitals
about the state of a relationship and information about what a government
considers to be its basic interests. In certain circumstances these signals
can have a significant impact on the recipient governments' action. There
is little doubt, for example, that international pressure was a factor
influencing President Suharto's response to the Dili massacre of 1991,
a response which led to embarrassment for the military and probably to
the formation of the National Commission on Human Rights.(23)
Controversy over issues in Australia-Indonesia relations also has implications
for Australian domestic politics. After demonstrators burnt an Indonesian
flag during a protest in Canberra about East Timor, there were suggestions
that the burning of foreign flags during demonstrations should be banned.
Some critics saw this as the Australian Government 'appeasing' President
Suharto by importing the very authoritarianism which makes his regime
open to criticism. Commentators such as John Hirst, on the other hand,
have even suggested that 'we should impose some limits on Asian refugees
in their campaigning against the governments they have fled'.(24) In fact,
Australia's democratic pluralism is arguably the best safeguard against
the Australian Government losing contact with non-government actors in
Indonesian politics. There is a flourishing range of unofficial links
between Australian community organisations involved in human rights, labour,
development and other issues and their Indonesian counterparts. While
these links can themselves cause sensitivity, as the interchange between
Australian and Indonesian labour groups showed, the Australian Government
can help foster the development of civil society in Indonesia (and enhance
mutual knowledge and understanding) by supporting, or at least not hindering,
the activities of Australian non-government organisations.
Close Monitoring Required
All sides of this debate seem to agree that Indonesia should be closely
monitored in the coming months and years, and that Australian policy-makers
need to keep Indonesia policy under specially close review. Certainly,
if the political situation in Indonesia were to deteriorate Australian
policy would have to adjust rapidly. A rise in Islamic fundamentalism,
for example, would present challenges to current Australian policy, especially
if it were accompanied by an increase in the existing tendency for President
Suharto to rally such forces as a counterbalance to the military. Such
a development would have particularly serious implications for East Timor
where some Islamic groups are already interpreting recent clashes between
the Catholic Timorese and Muslim settlers in the territory as an attack
on Islam, with the more extreme calling for the conversion of the Timorese.
Even moderate concessions by the government to such pressures would have
the potential to stir up renewed conflict in East Timor.
Communal/racial issues are an ever-present subterranean factor in Indonesian
politics, particularly resentment against the wealth of the Chinese business
community, a cause of violent clashes in the past. This was illustrated
during the Medan workers' riots of 1994 when, denied the possibility of
negotiating with their employer through their own union, the workers turned
on their boss on the basis of his race. Popular anger about Suharto's
favouritism towards certain select groups is particularly focused on his
close connections with Chinese business interests - an explosive combination
of race and class division. The possibility of fundamentalist and communally-inspired
groups exploiting frustration over issues such as jobs, wages and land
and directing them along racial or religious lines is a real danger.
All these emerging forces have the potential to become tied up with
the issue of the succession. With each passing year, the feeling is growing
amongst the elites that there should be discussion of a procedure for
a transition of power, and as long as Suharto refrains from openly addressing
the issue, frustration will grow. Although Suharto has recently attempted
to reassert his control over ABRI by reshuffling top appointments, the
army remains the one force capable of influencing the President against
his own will, and there are some groups within ABRI who may become impatient
with the direction of Suharto's government. The possibility of a coup
is remote, but an alternative course for ABRI dissidents is to foster
opposition groups covertly or to allow them space to develop, as may have
been the case with Megawati. In the scenario of an increasing tilt towards
Islamic organisations by Suharto, it would not be inconceivable that elements
in ABRI might provoke some extreme fundamentalists to take action, thus
providing the pretext for an ABRI crackdown on a broad spectrum of the
Islamic movement.
Indonesian society has undergone massive changes in the last thirty
years. After an era of upheaval and violence, there has been great progress
towards achieving political stability and economic development. These
changes have themselves, however, created new issues and problems, particularly
a growing awareness that the fruits of progress have been very unevenly
spread. Social change has created new classes and groups which, along
with even some elite elements, are beginning to question the long-term
viability of existing political arrangements. The question is thrown into
sharp relief because the post-1965 regime has depended so much on the
role of one man, an individual who is now coming under pressure to allow
his own succession but who appears reluctant to provide the means by which
a transition might take place.
There are many possible scenarios about Indonesian politics over which
to speculate. The fact is, however, that President Suharto is in full
control of the government and will be for the foreseeable future, despite
recent speculation about his health and the impact of the recent death
of his wife. The Australian Government has no option but to maintain close
relations with Suharto's government, even while it keeps a close watch
on social and political change in the country, and on emerging individuals
and collectivities which might emerge as significant new players. Amidst
the imponderables, the most predictable development for Australia-Indonesia
relations is that the linkages between the two countries will continue
to grow. Whether measured in terms of trade and investment, diplomatic,
cultural and defence relations at a bilateral and regional level, or in
the numbers of tourist and student arrivals, the interests of the two
countries are meshing more closely together. In these circumstances, major
changes in Indonesian politics are likely to have direct implications
for Australia's economic, diplomatic and strategic interests. A careful
Australian response to developments inside Indonesia is therefore imperative.
- For an account of the violence of 1965-66 see Harold Crouch, The
Army and Politics in Indonesia, Ithaca, 1978, pp.221-244.
- According to Indonesian Government figures, 1,352,896 people are classified
as 'Ex-Tapol', or former political prisoners, who are required to carry
identity cards identifying them as such. U.S. State Department Country
Report on Human Rights for 1995, pp.617-618.
- World Development Report 1995, p.162, The Economist,
3 August 1996, pp.19-20.
- World Development Report 1995, pp.214 & 216.
- Soemitro is thought to have been involved in encouraging the demonstrations
which led to the 1974 riots in order to place pressure on the government
to change certain economic policies. This is a good example of how internal
rivalries within ABRI and between ABRI factions and Suharto have sometimes
unleashed forces threatening to get beyond their control. See Harold
Crouch, op. cit., pp.313-317.
- Retired General Soemitro, quoted by the Sydney Morning Herald,
2 August 1996, p.8.
- Richard Robison, Indonesia: The Rise of Capital, Canberra,
1986.
- Estimated from figures in Chris Manning, 'Examining both Sides of
the Ledger: Economic Growth and Labour Welfare under Suharto', C. Manning
& J Hardjono (eds.), Indonesia Assessment 1993. Labour: Sharing
the Benefits of Growth?, Canberra, 1993, pp.63-65. From the beginning
of the 1990s, the percentage of GDP contributed by manufacturing exceeded
that of agriculture.
- Chris Manning, 'Introduction' in Indonesia Assessment 1993,
pp.2-3.
- Robison, op. cit., pp.323-67.
- ABRI claimed that 19 people were killed in the Dili massacre, but
a National Commission of Inquiry into the incident established by the
Government concluded that more than 50 people had been killed. The Commission
also criticised the ill-discipline of many of the soldiers involved,
findings which led to the effective ending of the military career of
a number of senior officers.
- Harold Crouch, 'An Ageing President, An Ageing Regime', in H. Crouch
& H. Hill, Indonesia Assessment 1992: Political Perspectives
on the 1990s, ANU, Canberra, 1992, pp.45-54.
- Douglas Ramage, 'Indonesia at 50: Islam, Nationalism (and Democracy?)',
Southeast Asian Affairs 1996, p.154.
- Douglas Ramage, Politics in Indonesia: Democracy, Islam and the
Ideology of Tolerance, London, 1995.
- Statement by the Hon. P.J. Keating, 14 December 1995.
- Geoffrey Barker, Financial Review, 6 August 1996, p.10.
- Brian Toohey, Financial Review, 30 July 1996, p.17.
- Brian Toohey, op. cit. See also Gerard Noonan, Canberra Times,
8 August, 1996, p.11.
- For a discussion of issues surrounding the Security Agreement see
Gary Brown, Frank Frost and Stephen Sherlock, The Australia-Indonesia
Security Agreement: Issues and Implications, Parliamentary Research
Service, Research Paper No. 25, 1995-96.
- Greg Sheridan, The Australian, 3 August 1996, p.22.
- Milton Osborne, The Australian, 31 July 1996, p.11.
- See Ravi Tomar, A DIFFerence of Opinion: Cancellation of the Development
Import Finance Facility, Parliamentary Research Service, Current
Issues Brief No.20, 1995-96.
- For a discussion of the Dili massacre, its background and aftermath
see Stephen Sherlock, A Pebble in Indonesia's Shoe: Recent Developments
in East Timor, Parliamentary Research Service, Research Paper No.8,
1995-96.
- John Hirst, 'In Defence of Appeasement: Indonesia and Australian Foreign
Policy', Quadrant, April 1996, p.16.
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