ABC AUSTRALIA, 5/08/2005
Can Indonesia hold? Unity and diversity revisited
Transcript of the 2005 Herb Feith Lecture
Dr Joan Hardjono, 5/08/2005
In the third Herb Feith Lecture, Dr Joan Hardjono examines the historical context
through which the diverse nation of Indonesia was born, and the recent legislative and
policy developments which the national government hopes will help keep the country
united.
The Herb Feith Lecture honours the memory of the late Herb Feith (1930-2001),
considered one of Australia's finest scholars of Indonesia.
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Let me begin by saying how honoured I am to have been invited to give the Herb Feith
Memorial Lecture.
There were many facets to Herb's academic interests but for many people, including
myself, it was his personal attachment to Indonesia that will always be remembered.
But what exactly is this place called Indonesia?
All around the world there are clusters of islands that have come together as nation
states: for example, the Philippines and certain island groups in the Pacific. But the
Indonesian archipelago, consisting as it does of some 17,000 islands, is in a class of
its own in terms of extent, diversity and above all population, for with more than 230
million people, Indonesia is the fourth most populous country in the world.
Tonight I want to ask whether an archipelago of the size and diversity of Indonesia can
really hope to form a state in which the interests of all its different peoples are m! et.
The country has, however, survived for sixty years now, so the question should really
be how Indonesia has dealt with the constraints of its geographical composition and
the range of differences contained within it.
I would like first to look at certain aspects of that diversity, for herein lie many of the
challenges that present-day Indonesia faces. The Indonesian archipelago happens to
be situated on an extremely unstable section of the earth's crust, as the recent
earthquakes and tsunami in Aceh and Nias have demonstrated. Volcanic eruptions
have also been frequent - we immediately think of Mt Agung in Bali in 1963 and Mt
Galunggung in West Java in 1982.
The same geological factors have led to the formation of rugged mountain barriers and
extensive swamps that hinder communications in many islands, yet at the same time
they have endowed the islands with a variety of resources. In very broad terms Java
and Bali have fertile volcanic soils, while mineral resources! in the form of oil, natural
gas and coal are to be found elsewhere in the archipelago. Climatic conditions, too,
vary greatly. Some regions experience heavy rains and floods every year, while others
suffer regularly from droughts that often lead to famines.
Perhaps the dominating element in Indonesia's diversity is the great imbalance in
population distribution within the archipelago, for just on 60 per cent of its people live
in Java. Human settlement has always been concentrated in this island, where
geographical conditions favoured the development of irrigated rice-growing many
centuries ago. In other islands, where soils were less fertile, shifting cultivation was
practiced and population remained correspondingly sparse. Given the physical
variations between and within the islands and the distances between them,
ethno-cultural differences are inevitable.
So how was it that these very different islands ever came together as the Republic o! f
Indonesia?
Indonesia exists as a country today partly because the early Dutch traders
succeeded in preventing other European powers from gaining a permanent foothold in
the archipelago, and partly because at a later stage, as their interests shifted from
trade to plantation agriculture, the Dutch developed a centralised governmental
system that focused on Java. Circumstances were obviously very different from the
situation that prevailed in the West Indies a few centuries ago. The international
politics of the time and the comparative proximity to Europe of the Caribbean islands
encouraged the big powers of the day to maintain their own individual interests, which
effectively precluded any possibility of union among the islands.
In view of the repressive nature of colonial rule in Indonesia, it is hardly surprising that
thoughts of independence arose in the early 20th century. Centralised Dutch control
had in itself provided a framework for nationalistic aspirations, which were expressed
in the 1928 Vow of Youth and its call for one country, one people and one language.
Despite the fact that their country consisted of a large number of islands, Indonesians
themselves were quite sure that geography would not be a handicap to their
development as a nation when they proclaimed their independence in 1945. Nor did
they feel that diversity would impede the functioning of the unitary state that they had
chosen in preference to a federal system as the most appropriate structure for their
country.
But while they had great confidence in the national motto "Unity in Diversity", they did
not appreciate the full implications of the physical and ethno-cultural differences within
the archipelago. As a consequence, although the existence of diversity is clearly
recognised in the nation's motto, it has never been adequately acknowledged in the
way that the state has been managed.
In the years following independence much attention was given to nation-building,
which was seen as a prerequisite for all else, while economic development was put to
one side. With the introduction of guided democracy in the late 1950s, governance
become much more centralised. Any regional attempts to challenge policies made in
Jakarta were quickly put down as constituting a threat to national unity. Emphasis
was placed on the use of Bahasa Indonesia as the national language and, despite
cultural dissimilarities, efforts were made to create a specifically "Indonesian" identity
that would make people conscious of being Indonesians first and foremost rather than
Balinese or Javanese or whatever. The country's leaders invoked recollections of
colonial times and the 1945-49 revolution to revive a sense of nationalism that had
begun to wane in the face of economic problems. The campaign to recover West Irian
and the anti-Malaysia campaign (konfrontasi) were likewise strategies intended to
unify the nation. In the case of West Irian, the strategy proved very effective.
After the political upheavals of 1965 and 1966 and the emergence of the New Order
regime under Soeharto's leadership, the centralised form of government, far from being
abandoned or reshaped, was intensified. This implied strong political control, which
was made possible by the carefully planned participation of the Armed Forces in most
aspects of the nation's daily life, an involvement that was linked to the supposed need
to eradicate all traces of the Indonesian Communist Party. in endeavouring to
reinvigorate the spirit of nationalism, the New Order regime made frequent use of fears
of communism and stories of communist treachery in 1965.
In the early years of the New Order serious attention was given to economic matters.
Indeed, one of the justifications put forward by the new regime for the authoritarian
nature of its policies was its objective of improving the welfare of the Indonesian
people thro! ugh national development. In recognition of the geographical nature of the
country, improvements in communications were given high priority. With expansion in
bus and train networks and inter-island ferry and air services, population mobility
increased greatly as people moved to Java from other parts of the country and from
Java to other islands in search of a better livelihood.
One special aspect of population mobility was the attention given to the
government-funded resettlement in other islands of people from Java and Bali as a
means to reduce population pressure in these two islands. While the primary aim was
demographic , this policy of transmigration was also regarded as a means of
promoting national unity. The secondary objective was never attained, however,
because ethnic and cultural differences proved too great to allow assimilation. Put
briefly, neither transmigrants or local communities saw themselves as Indonesians
As it is, local feeling against newco! mers or pendatang, whether they be
spontaneous settlers or government-sponsored transmigrants who resettled two or
three generations ago, is a major social issue in many parts of Indonesia today. The
hostility that has arisen between certain ethnically different groups of people was
highlighted during 1997 by a series of incidents in West and Central Kalimantan,
where recent newcomers from Madura came into violent physical conflict with local
Dayaks.
The question of newcomers is not limited to regions outside Java. People from other
islands have always moved into Java without restriction as is right and fitting in the
same country. But in some of the overcrowded cities of Java, friction has occurred
where the economic interests of newcomers have trespassed on the sources of
livelihood of local people. In the city of Bandung, for example, street sellers from
Padang are competing somewhat aggressively with local Sundanese vendors for a
limited market, while the entry of taxi and minibus drivers from Medan has put the
same island has put pressure on the employment of local people in the transportation
sector. It is in this way that economic hardships can undermine feelings on national
identity.
As the New Order became increasingly entrenched, the Department of Home Affairs
was made more powerful and there was tight control over the political affiliations of the
Public Service and related organizations. When in the late 1970s university students
began to challenge government authority and the limitations imposed on freedom of
speech and of the press, restrictions were placed on academic freedom through a
policy known as the normalization of university campuses (normalisasi kampus).
Courses in the political ideology of the New Order, stressing the so-called
Development Trilogy of economic growth, equity in development and national stability,
were introduced in the 1980s. The aim being to promote a common political
philosophy which the government ! assumed would ensure unity.
Nevertheless, diversity within the country, however, continued to be largely ignored.
Uniform policies were made in Jakarta for all regions and in all matters, while at the
same time the wishes and specific needs of the various regions were not taken into
consideration. Nevertheless, full recognition must be given to the fact that basic
services, albeit uniform in content, were provided for most of the country. These
services ranged from educational opportunities through the Inpres school program, the
Family Planning campaign, primary health care posts (posyandu) as a supplement to
puskesmas, vaccination programs (including polio immunization) and agricultural
extension workers (PPL), who provided direct guidance to farmers.
Meanwhile, the growing importance of natural resources other than fertile soils was
putting a different slant on the realities of diversity within the country. The production
of oil and natural gas was increased to meet ! not just domestic needs but also export
opportunities, while expansion in logging enabled timber to be exported and the local
pulp and plywood industries to expand rapidly. But as the exploitation of oil, gas and
timber intensified, resentment against the authoritarianism of the central government
also grew, especially in resource-rich regions, for the revenue generated from these
resources accrued to the national government rather than to production areas. This
resentment was further fuelled by the realisation that local resources were being
steadily depleted.
By the late 1980s the New Order regime had lost sight of its original goals of national
development and improved economic welfare for the people, and was concerned
primarily with staying in power and with the financial advancement of an extremely
small section of the Indonesian community. This, together with the excessive
centralisation and the lack of freedom for democratic expression, led to increasing
dissatisfac! tion not only in regions outside Java but also in the provinces of Java.
Finally, Soeharto resigned in 1998 and, after 32 years in power, the New Order
collapsed. Demands for reforms in all fields and for democratization were
accompanied by intensified calls for regional autonomy and decentralization.
The new national-level parliament (the DPR), formed through democratic general
elections in June 1999, passed decentralization legislation that took effect on 1
January 2001. With the devolution of authority to the lower levels of government,
certain questions inevitably arose. In extending the authority of the regions, would
decentralisation weaken and perhaps even destroy national unity? Many people saw
decentralization as signalling the official recognition of regionalism, which had
re-emerged not only in the political sphere but also in the active promotion of local
cultures, languages, traditions and customs. Others feared that certain regions could
become virtually sepa! rate states and that the expression of socio-cultural and ethnic
differences, if encouraged, would impact adversely on the concept of a specifically
Indonesian character and culture. Unlike previous regimes, post-1998 governments
have had nothing of a nationalistic nature to refer back to or recall to as a unifying
strategy.
People also asked whether decentralisation would be able to overcome the problem of
economic inequity stemming from the maldistribution of natural resources and
population within the country. Some felt that the resource-poor parts of the country
would not fare as well as they had under the New Order, despite adjustments in
financial allowances from the central government.
One of the first responses to demands for recognition of regional diversity was the
subdivision of a number of provinces and districts. In most cases an ethnic or cultural
group believed that its own aspirations had been ignored by a more dominant group
that controlled the same province. For example, Banten, once a part of the province of
West Java became a separate province in the year 2000. Its people had long felt that
the government of West Java disregarded their interests and their somewhat different
cultural and historical background. Sometimes, however, the location of certain
natural resources has appeared to be the determining factor, as in the creation of the
District of West Sumbawa, where the gold mining by a foreign company has been
taking place for some years. Administrative subdivision of the original district means
that fewer people have to share the financial benefits of the resource.
Regional autonomy has certainly strengthened awareness of regional identity and
given rise to debate over preferential treatment for local people, that is, for putra
daerah (literally, sons of the region). Ethnicity has become significant in local politics
and elections, and also in appointments to positions such as university rectorships
and th! e chairmanship of governmental units. Several districts have stipulated that the
district head (bupati) must be a person not only born in that district but also of the
same ethnicity as local indigenous people. While this represents an understandable
reaction to the New Order practice of appointing "outsiders" as governors and district
heads for fear that a local person might promote regional interests over those of the
central government, it also suggests that people of different ethnic origins lack a
sense of belonging to the nation.
The first decentralization laws (Laws 22/1999 and 25/1999) concerned the devolution
of governmental and financial authority to administrative districts (kabupaten) and
administrative cities (kota). The provincial level was bypassed as districts and cities
gained new responsibilities. The central government retained authority only for
national-level affairs like foreign policy, defence and security and monetary policy, as
well as a few oth! er matters like national planning.
This first regional autonomy legislation contained many inconsistencies and lacked
clarity and precise definitions of the responsibilities of the central and lower-level
governments. In particular, the role of the provincial government was not clear. Another
major problem was that, in the absence of guidelines from the central government,
lower-level governments interpreted the legislation as they pleased, frequently
enacting new regional laws (perda) that were in conflict with national laws in an
attempt to increase their own revenue.
Revised decentralization laws of 2004
In response to general dissatisfaction with the 1999 legislation, the original
decentralisation laws were replaced in October 2004. The revised laws clarify the
relationship between the central and district-level governments, and define the role of
provincial-level governments. The provinces are pleased that they now have a clear
role to play in what looks somewhat like the New Order hierarchy of power, but
districts and cities are less enthusiastic as they now have to "consult" the central
government about proposed legislation, they have lost many of the rights gained under
the 1999 legislation. Some people believe that the central government has been at
best half-hearted in its decentralization policy, and they regard the divisions as a
deliberate shift back to overall central government authority.
Perhaps the strongest criticism is the fact that decentralisation has not led to
improved standards of living in the regions. In the devolution of authority, the assumpt!
ion was that district governments would have a better understanding of their own local
needs than the central government had in the past. Thus they would be able to take
the specific problems for their region into account in their policies and decisions. Thus
it would also be much easier for the public to demand transparency in local
decision-making and accountability in the use of funds. But the outcome so far has
been disappointing since the pattern of vested interests prevailing at the national level
has been transferred to the district level. Added to this is the fact that in a number of
districts and cities members of district legislatures, that is, the People's
Representative Councils or DPRDs, have been found guilty of the misuse of funds.
The regions are now responsible for basic services like education and health, but
service delivery, far from improving, has declined. In many districts very little, if any,
attention has been given to problems like malnutrition (busung lapar! ) while primary
health care posts (posyandu) and other health programs (including polio vaccinations)
have been neglected. This would suggest that most regional governments are
concerned with matters other than the welfare of their poorest people.
So where does the country stand today?
Seven years have passed since the resignation of Soeharto. Devolution of authority
has encouraged greater community involvement in policy formation through public
meetings, and NGOs have continued to play an important role in expressing
community views. Assured of freedom of expression and information, members of the
public have become much more vocal. The media are openly critical of policies and
decisions at all levels and they monitor closely the policies adopted by local
government officials and by DPRDs.
The process of democratization and decentralization moved another step forward in
June and July of the current year (2005) when direct elections (pilkada) were
conducted for a large number (226) of district heads, city mayors and provincial
governors. Yet although this sounds promising, many Indonesian observers feel
pessimistic about some of the trends that are emerging and ask whether these direct
elections have really promoted democracy at the local level. I! n most regions there
has been a certain lack of interest on the part of the electorate, with no more than 50
per cent of those eligible to vote bothering to do so in some places. The main reason
appears to be their perception that the results will make no difference to the actual
governance of their region or to their own personal welfare. This attitude has been
strengthened by the fact that on the whole, pilkada candidates have said very little
about their proposed policies beyond very generalised statements about "improving
welfare". Adding to this, in many place, members of the community were not familiar
with the names or faces of the candidates other than the incumbents. This gave the
incumbents a clear advantage added to which they were in a position to make use of
government facilities such as vehicles during their election campaigns.
More disturbing than the low voter turn-out is the violence that has occurred in many
regions prior to or on voting day or else when the election results were announced.
The first direct presidential elections held in 2004 had gone off very successfully
without major demonstrations or disruptions of any kind. During the lower-level
elections, however, there have been physical clashes between groups supporting
different. In some places it has meant the destruction of government offices, in
particular those of local electoral committees (KPUD) and local legislatures (DPRDs).
Reasons for demonstrations have ranged from inadequate administrative preparations
and the non-registration of large numbers of eligible voters to suspected vote-buying
by candidates and in particular misuse by the local electoral committee of money
provided by the central government for the conduct of the elections.
Another aspect has been the amount of money spent by candidates to secure
support, which implies that the successful candidate will have many favours to repay,
in most instances to the local business community. Equally significant is the role
played by the national-level political parties or in some cases alliances of parties,
which have their eyes on the 2009 general elections. In some places prominent
national figures, including former president Megawati, have "assisted" local
candidates from the same party in their election campaigns by appearing with them
and thus turning the election into a popularity contest. This implies that the winners
will have financial as well as political favours to return.
Conclusion
So I ask again, can an archipelago of the size and diversity of Indonesia really form a
state in which the interests of all its different peoples are met?
Yes, I believe it can. But Indonesia is too large and diverse for a highly centralized
system of government. Devolution of authority to the regions can certainly provide the
basis for dealing with diversity but not if regional governments are controlled by vested
interests or by the ambitions of national level politicians and political parties. Looking
towards the future, we can imagine a number of scenarios. There could, for example,
be a complete break-up of the country. But as I said this is most unlikely at this stage
in the existence of the nation. Regional autonomy lies with the districts not with the
provinces which would make the formation of small governmental units - call them
states if you will - somewhat difficult.
There could be a return to a highly centralised government despite revisions to t! he
regional autonomy legislation favouring the central government, devolution makes this
virtually impossible. Furthermore, there tends to be a feeling of disappointment with
the central government's recent performance. If the central government becomes
determined to regain the political ascendancy, it will certainly encounter regional
problems. Possibly certain provinces on the geographical periphery might withdraw
form the country - Papua and Aceh being the obvious examples. Others, as I see it,
are not likely to attempt to do so because they would have too much to lose. The
things they would lose would be for example, historical continuity, the prestige of
belonging to a large country, Indonesia's role in ASEAN, and many other perhaps
such symbolic things but meaningful things.
There could be a weakening of central government authority in certain regions due to
the development of economic ties between those regions and nearby countries,
especially in the export of raw materials. I'm thinking in particular of northern Sumatra
and Malaysia. The regions concerned would increasingly disregard central government
regulations and policies despite the fact that this might work to the disadvantage of
other parts of the country. One example if the export of rattan which has been
permitted once again. As a consequence, last week 10,000 workers in Cirebon from
rattan factories demonstrated against the government.
Finally, the most likely scenario is a compromise. I feel convinced that with the likely
exception of Papua and the possible exception of Aceh, the regions of Indonesia will
start together. Despite all the pushing and pulling between the central and regional
governments, national ties are still strong, as the great response from within Indonesia
to the recent natural disasters in Aceh and Nias revealed. Indonesians certainly do
not want to see their country break up into smaller political units. They still want to be
Indonesians. But ! a compromise has to be reached between the needs and demands
and diversity of the regions on the one hand, and the requirements of national unity,
on the other. So this compromise will involve constant pushing an pulling between the
central government and the regions.
I would like to conclude by drawing attention to a different kind of diversity within the
Indonesian community, namely, the very obvious socio-economic disparities which
are not defined by ethnic, cultural or other criteria and which exist in all regions of the
country. At the top of the social structure are wealthy elites, below them an
increasingly demanding middle class and at the bottom an impoverished majority.
This is not the place to discuss whether the poverty gap is growing. Suffice to say
that this is one aspect of diversity that could be handled satisfactorily, if genuine
attention were given to it by the central and regional governments alike.
Thankyou.
The Herb Feith lecture is presented by the Centre of Southeast Asian Studies and
Faculty of Arts, Monash University, in association with ABC Radio Australia and the
Melbourne Institute of Asian Languages & Societies, The University of Melbourne.
© ABC 2005 |
