Chaos at Crocodile Hole (The Guardian, 23 Mei 1998)

=== [PDF page 1] === Chaos at Crocodile Hole Woollacott, Martin The Guardian (1959-2009); May 23, 1998; ProQuest pg. 24 Foolish to think Suharto’s fall is a triumph: everyone has been damaged except the very rich Chaos at Crocodile Hole Martin Woollacott ROCODILE Hole is the evil-sounding name of the place near Jakarta where six Indonesian generals were murdered in the failed coup attempt that led to the replacement of Sukarno by Suharto.; After the troubles, it became a shrine. Visitors remove their shoes before passing in front of reliefs showing the war against the Dutch, Sukarno studying a book while plotters lurk in the background, the generals being tortured by communist women, and the arrival, in the nick of time, of General Suharto and his armoured cars. The reliefs do not show the later massacres of several hundred thousand followers of the communists, many of them killed by young Muslim activists. But they are a powerful statement of the basic principle of his regime, which is that Indonesian society, because of its ethnic, religious, and class divisions, will, if left to itself, collapse into anarchy and even civil war. Although the youthful mass of Indonesians has no memory of the Sixties, the idea that an unfettered Indonesia would be a dangerous place will certainly have been refreshed by the riots and violence of recent months. Today, in fhe nervous cities where middle class householders form security patrols for fear of looters, the sense of vulnerability may be as marked as the sense of opportunity. Indonesian politics has, since at least the later years of Sukarno, revolved around the question of whether or not the country suffers from an inherent tendency to instability which justifies authoritarian rule, or at least serious limitations on political freedom. The other argument, of course, was that this tendency to instability was an invention or gross exaggeration put out by those who had captured the state and wanted to hold on to it. With Suharto gone, the question moves once again out of the realm of theory inta that of practice. The difficulties of speaking frankly in an unfree society, and perhaps some Javanese preference for indirection, have meant that these matters have for years been discussed in a strange jargon made up of acronyms and generalities, with shifts of nuance doing the work of what would have been open debate in other countries. Concepts like “SARA”, for example, which is shorthand for ‘Suku, Ras, Agama, Antar Golangan”, the ban on provoking ethnic, racial, religious, or class troubles, abound. The journalist Goenawan Mohammad years ago wrote an essay called A Thousand Slogans and one Poem, in which he deplored the way in which the regime's propaganda had made everything into a dull code. But, still, it is a code that has some meaning. Pancasila, the founding Indonesian ideology, combines belief in God, humanitarianism, national unity, consensus democracy, and social justice. It is a shambolic intellectual structure within which factions inside the regime, its defenders and critics have for years manoeuvred. This, with the counterpoint of violence on the streets and the regime’s own violence against its opponents, has been Indonesian politics under Suharto, Whether those politics have prepared the country for a transition to a pluralist and democratic system or whether they have damaged that possibility is a question the next few months will answer. But it would be foolish to imagine that the mere departure of Suharto is any kind of triumph. Nor can Indonesia's problems be summed up by saying that the country needs a strong opposition leader — although that may be true — or an economic new start, although that is patently true. The problems are rather that Suharto has left a legacy of division on two levels. His kind of development widened the gaps between the classes, and, in its collapse, has damaged all but the very rich. His kind of politics also widened gaps, between different groups and institutions, notably the military and one wing of politically active Muslims, The divisions could dangerously interact. s Suharto's comrades of the 1945 generation passed into etirement, the armed forces lost the lion's share of important civil posts and of the state sector economy. The generals remained privileged and important, but had clearly lost ground. Suharto had already buttressed his, position on the economic front by an alliance with Chinese-Indonesian entrepreneurs, who made fortunes for themselves and for the Suharto family. Later he reinforced his position politically by encouraging an Islamic movement that co-operated closely with the regime. Members of that movement, embodied in the Indonesian Muslim Intellectuals’ Association (ICMJ), founded in 1990, sought to use Suharto even as he used them, Their hope was, by penetrating the government, bureaucracy and educational system, to create an Islamic society. Other Muslims, including the prominent moderate Muslim leader Abdurrahman Wahid, criticised this programme as thinly disguising the rea] objective of an Islamic state. Some ICMI stalwarts also took up the idea of proportionalism in government, meaning that Muslims should get the 90 per cent of government and civil service posts to which their proportion of the population ‘‘entitled”’ them, and of affirmative action in the economy, meaning that Muslims should get a helping hand from Sino-Indonesian businessmen, on the Malaysian model]. Men with Islamist ideas were even promoted within the military, although they remain a minority. Unsurprisingly, the ICME Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. people were in favour of Suharto carrying on in power in 1993, when a number of retired service officers, many secular politicians, and leaders of the much larger and more moderate Muslim association, the Nahdlatul Ulama, were not. The most serious tension created by Suharto’s manoeuvres in the Nineties is that between the military and the new Muslim activists, so it is interesting that the men of the moment in Indonesia are the new president BJ Habibie, a not entirely serious figure who is nevertheless a leader, or Amien Rais, also a member of ICMI but one who turned very recently against Suharto, and General Wiranto, the commander of the armed forces. Amien Rais has fulminated against ‘‘Christianisation” and attacked Suharto's economic policies because good Muslims were not getting their share of economic action. The enthusiasm of some Muslim activists for “democracy” may well be linked to the idea that they would be the overwhelming victors in a free election and the natural and permanent masters thereafter. Suharto’s political legacy is thus as problematic as his economic one. A reassertion of the political powers of the military, the pursuit of an Islamic state, or some kind of trade-off, between Islamists and the army are not happy prospects, Fortunately, there is a substantial moderate Muslim movement, and there are significant secular and democratic political groups which have survived within the artificial party set-up that Suharto imposed, as well as a whole new sector of democratically inclined non-governmental organisations. There may also be officers, who, while unwilling to give up the idea of a special and legitimate political role for the forces, understand that they cannot occupy as large a place in the scheme of things as in the past. Together, they should have a chance of trying to prove that Indonesia can have free politics without falling into the chaos that the Crocodile Hole symbolises.