ASIA TIMES, November 14, 2003
Horror behind Aceh's closed door
By Lesley McCulloch
It is too easy for the world to forget Aceh, an embattled, silent and closed province in
the northwest of Indonesia. The reason is simple: international journalists are
prevented from entering legally and the local media are either embedded in the military
or attacked - even kidnapped - when attempting to work independently.
There is an acute sense of lingering Suhartoism in Indonesian President Megawati
Sukarnoputri's response to Aceh - dissent has been met with state-sponsored
violence. Almost six months of martial law has resulted in the province being all but
closed to the outside world. On average, 12 people are killed each day, the same
number are arrested and many more simply disappear. These are the official figures;
data from locals suggest the human cost of this latest military operation is in fact
much higher.
The misery of the Acehnese is compounded by the fact that poverty is running at
around 40 percent, food and health security are something of the past - certainly not
the present - and many children do not attend school. The education infrastructure no
longer exists in any meaningful form (600 schools have been destroyed); many
teachers - accused by the military of spreading pro-independence "propaganda" - have
been killed or abducted, and pupils are often too afraid to venture far from home.
Coordinating Minister for Political and Security Affairs Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono
has in recent days announced an extension to martial law, which had been due to end
in mid-November. To many, this has come as no surprise. Sofyan Daud, spokesman
for the separatist movement, said by satellite phone from Aceh: "You know, we are
never surprised by the actions of the Indonesian government or military - and we are
always ready for them. Of course it would be much better to return to the dialogue and
stop the bloodshed, but the Indonesians are reluctant to follow this path."
The question remains whether the extended military operation can indeed fulfill its
aims of eliminating the movement. Said Daud: "Yudhoyono has himself said that the
operation is proving to be less effective and more costly - in terms of both finances
and lives lost - than they had planned. We [GAM, or the Free Aceh Movement] are
still a force to be reckoned with. So what to do now? It is a real problem for the
Indonesians - our people just wait and see. They can never eliminate us. Some day -
soon I hope - they will realize this and resume another peace process."
With the fall of Suharto in 1998, the Indonesian media were hailed as the freest in
Asia by over-enthusiastic or self-deluding supporters of the new regime. It is true that
they had more freedom then than during Suharto's time, but they were by no means
free.
In the weeks following the imposition of martial law in Aceh on May 19 this year, both
local and international media were still able to cover the military operation. As
journalists traveled the embattled province, worldwide headlines such as "Aceh's
death toll tops 100" (British Broadcasting Corp, May 29) after only 11 days of war,
and stories of military-backed militia destroying infrastructure and killing civilians
became unpalatable to both the Indonesian military and government. The inevitable
response - closing Aceh to the media - was met with little opposition by the domestic
populace that has lived in a country where traditionally voices of dissent have been
silenced - one way or another. In the absence of any "new" news, the international
community quickly lost interest.
In Indonesia a culture of militarism and secrecy has outlived the 30-year dictatorship
of Suharto. Megawati's administration has discovered that withholding information is
an extremely powerful weapon. Freedom of expression, association and access to
information are all fundamental rights and constitute a large component of the
cornerstone of democracy: none are yet available in Indonesia.
The process of closing Aceh to the media was very simple. By late May the military,
and by extension the government, was already showing signs of nervousness
because of the negative coverage. Military commander General Endriartono Sutarto
stated: "[Media] reports covering the comments of both sides, or neutrality, cannot be
permitted because GAM's chaotic statements will then be released and lead to
confusion among Acehnese about who is in the right." The only Acehnese newspaper
covering the war, Serambi, followed military orders and all but stopped reporting the
conflict.
Following that theme, local military operations chief General Endang Suwarya warned
journalists not to quote, interview or write about the rebels: "I want all news published
to contain the spirit of nationalism."
Presidential decree 43/2003 (June 16 ) on restricting the media stipulates that foreign
journalists must get permission to report on Aceh from the minister of foreign affairs,
and that local journalists must apply to the military emergency authority.
In the post-Suharto flush of enthusiasm that Indonesia was firmly on the path to
reform, many hailed the country as the world's "newest democracy". These days,
since the reformasi dust has settled, we don't hear so much praise for the process of
democratization. There has been a realization that reformasi has, by design rather
than default, all but stalled, and that democracy is something that only the most
optimistic can see on the horizon. For most there is only quiet acknowledgement that
nothing much has changed as Megawati struggles to convince the domestic and
international audience that she is not simply a figurehead president while the old
Suharto guards and the military continue to reign supreme.
Under Megawati the Acehnese continue to inhabit an "extreme zone" where death,
arrest, torture and destruction are the norm. If Indonesia wants to prove its
democratizing credentials, the restrictions on access to information in Aceh must be
opened to a public and independent review that should ask: "In closing Aceh to the
media, exactly what information are Megawati and the military trying to withhold?"
Perhaps we do not fire the bullets or draw the bayonets to kill, maim and terrorize; nor
do we light the torches to burn the schools and houses. But our willful ignorance
makes us complicit - as it did in East Timor - to the unfolding tragedies. The door is
closed, we cannot see - we know, but (again) choose to ignore.
* Lesley McCulloch is a research fellow in the School of Social and International
Studies, Deakin University, Melbourne.
Copyright 2003 Asia Times Online Ltd. All rights reserved.
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