Neighbors and erstwhile allies will not easily forget the sight of Indonesia's vast
army turned against itself. The fact that the military declared martial law in East
Timor after the civilian cabinet had rejected the idea (Habibie reportedly
changed his mind after a visit by Wiranto to his home) does not inspire faith in
the cohesiveness of the current administration. Nor does the inability of
Wiranto's troops to control the situation. There have been reports of mass
desertions within the ranks and of units beholden to individual Kopassus
commanders rather than Jakarta. "Some rogue elements have been noted,"
Foreign Minister Ali Alatas said somewhat dismissively on Thursday. "We have
had, in the past, difficulties with rogue elements."
His understatement could describe the entire
occupation of East Timor. The reluctance of
intelligence services to let go of their one-time fief
may seem unsurprising given the effort spent
pacifying the former colony (and exploiting it, as
the military has long controlled the area's vital
commodities). But none of the hypotheses put
forth to explain the scale of the violence is likely to
burnish the military's reputation. The idea that the
army would lay waste to East Timor out of spite
seems psychopathic; feelings of loyalty to the
militias Jakarta reportedly sponsors seem only
crass. Most palatable, sadly, may be the theories
inspired by realpolitik: that the armed forces mean
to make an example of East Timor that will frighten
territories like Aceh and Irian Jaya from seeking
independence, and to reassert the domineering
role in politics they enjoyed during Suharto's
uncompromising rule.
The latter at least seems to have succeeded. Ever
since reportedly forcing Habibie into imposing
martial law, Wiranto has emerged as the power
broker many imagined he would become after
helping ease Suharto out last spring. Some
Western diplomats have spoken of a bloodless
coup, and the nations bringing the heaviest
pressure to bear on Jakarta have all approached
the general directly. Asked why Clinton had not
telephoned Habibie, National Security Adviser
Sandy Berger noted archly, "We have focused on
where we believe the decisions are being made,
which is the Indonesian military." Only Wiranto can
force an end to the violence that has directed so
much of the world's ire at the Indonesian
government. Only he can keep in line a military
furious with the civilian administration for forcing
them to withdraw ignominiously from East Timor.
That task looms especially large now, scarcely two
months before a new People's Consultative
Assembly will elect a new president (and ratify the
decision to let East Timor go free). The coup
rumors that ricocheted around Jakarta last week
proved to be nothing but entertainment. (At one
point word went around that Habibie had fled to
Germany, where he had once lived.) But they
speak volumes about the menagerie of forces who
have an interest in seeing the President toppled.
"The violence may or may not have been
engineered, but it is definitely a result of Habibie's
policy-making," says Matori Abdul Djalil, chairman
of the Muslim-oriented National Awakening Party
(PKB), which will hold 51 seats in the new
700-seat parliament. The frontrunner for the
presidency, Megawati Sukarnoputri, has also
accused the President of calling the referendum
too hastily, and has underscored her affinity for the
pro-integration cause by visiting the West Timor
refugee camps.
In fact, opposition to Habibie has spread far
beyond his political rivals. "Habibie is totally,
completely finished," says a senior White House
source. "I don't think anybody but his family is
going to be for Habibie." The excitable former
engineer never earned more than the tolerance of
Indonesia's military. Now even the populace he
once hoped to impress with his democratic
credentials has been angered by the supposed
ingratitude of the East Timorese. Populist cabinet
minister Adi Sasono has called for negotiations
with the U.N. to decide the fate of all "national
assets" in the territory, which has received $2.5
billion in aid from Jakarta since 1976 (much of
which is reputed to have gone into the pockets of
the region's military overlords and their cronies).
"After all that we've done for them, it's
unbelievable," complains Ahmadi, a Jakarta
accountant who was only five years old when
Indonesia invaded East Timor.
Similar sentiments have spread throughout the chattering classes of Jakarta,
where the focus has shifted from concern over the bloodshed on the ground to
annoyance over the peremptory calls for action coming in from the world's
capitals. Students infuriated by Canberra's increasingly stern tone stormed over
the fence of the Australian embassy in Jakarta and burned its flag. "This is the
embryo of a new nationalist movement in the face of widespread separatist
sentiment around Indonesia," says Nelson Correia of the pro-independence
Socialist Party of East Timor.
That strategy, however, probably won't play much beyond Jakarta. Separatists
in Aceh celebrated the day the results of the East Timor referendum were
announced and demanded a vote of their own. In the Irian Jaya capital of
Jayapura, 75 protesters challenged army troops in an attempt to raise the
separatist flag; at least one demonstrator was shot and killed. Even further
afield, beyond Indonesia's necklace of islands, the national honor that partisans
in Jakarta think they are promoting has been deeply compromised. Clinton
blasted the situation in Indonesia as "a travesty." Thousands took to the streets
in Portugal in protest, and commonwealth countries like Britain, Canada and
Australia--the only nation to recognize the 1976 annexation of East Timor--have
treated Jakarta to a barrage of unadorned and vituperative criticism both behind
closed doors and in the world media. Even the Pope has weighed in with
condemnation.
Still, despite the criticism--or perhaps because of it--most voices insist that
East Timor will be granted its independence as scheduled. "If we do not agree
to accept the results [of the vote], we will become an isolated nation in the
world," says the PKB's Djalil. In less than a week, Indonesia has already come
dangerously close to that point. Few think East Timor's redemption will arrive
with similar speed. "Many people in Timor have told us, 'We'll die now. But at
least we'll leave the land for the next generation to be free,'" says Dulcie Munn,
president of an East Timorese community group in Australia's Northern
Territory. That's a tough bargain, but one all too familiar to these long suffering
people.
Reported by Martha de la Cal/Lisbon, Lisa Clausen/Darwin, William
Dowell/New York, Barry Hillenbrand/Washington, Joanna Jolly/Dili,
Zamira Loebis/Kupang and Lisa Rose Weaver and Jason
Tedjasukmana/Jakarta |
